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[ { "from": "system", "value": "Helping with the plot, keep the story going.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 7" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Why now? I had hoped that when he came home for Pentecost, I should be already bearing my lord's child, and he would look no more on me, since it was so clear I was resolved to honor my marriage.\n\nYet against her will, she remembered Arthur's words: Should you bear me a child, I would not question... do you know what I am saying to you? Gwenhwyfar had known what he meant all too well. Lancelet's son could be heir to the kingdom. Was this new temptation offered her, now, because she had already fallen into grievous sin by meddling with Morgaine's sorcery, and making wild and unchaste threats, hoping to force Morgaine into helping her...?\n\nI do not care, if so be it I can bear my king a son... if a God would damn me for that, what have Ito do with him? She was frightened at her own blasphemy, yet it had been blasphemy, too, to think of going to the lighted Beltane fires....\n\n\"Look, Gawaine is down, even he could not stand against Lancelet's riding,\" Elaine said eagerly. \"And Cai, too! How could Lancelet strike down a lame man?\"\n\n\"Don't be more of a fool than you must, Elaine,\" said Morgaine. \"Do you think Cai would thank Lancelet for sparing him? If Cai went into these games, surely he is able to risk whatever hurt he could take! No one bade him compete.\"\n\nIt had been foreordained from the moment Lancelet took the field who would win the prize. There was some good-natured grumbling among the Companions when they saw it. \"There is no use in any of us entering the lists at all, while Lancelet is here,\" Gawaine said, laughing, his arm around his cousin. \"Couldn't you have stayed away another day or so, Lance?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lancelet was laughing too, a high color in his face. He took the golden cup and tossed it in the air. \"Your mother, too, besought me to stay in her court for Beltane. I came not hereto defraud you of the prize-I have no need of prizes. Gwenhwyfar, my lady,\" he cried, \"take this, and give me instead the ribbon you wear about your neck. The cup may go to the altar or to the Queen's high table!\"\n\nEmbarrassed, Gwenhwyfar's hand flew to her throat and the ribbon on which she had tied Morgaine's charm. \"This I may not give you, my friend-\" But she fumbled at the sleeve which she had embroidered with small pearls. \"Take this fora kindness to my champion. As for the prize-well, I will give prizes to all of you-\" She gestured to Gawaine and Gareth, who had come in after Lancelet in the riding.\n\n\"Graciously done,\" Arthur said, rising in his place, while Lancelet took the embroidered silk and kissed it, then fastened it around his helm. \"But my most valiant fighter must still be honored. You will sit with us at the high table, Lancelet, and tell us all that has befallen you since you left my court.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar excused herself with her ladies, the better to prepare for the feast. Elaine and Meleas were chattering about Lancelet's valor, his riding, his generosity in giving up all claim to the prize. Gwenhwyfar could think only of the look he had given her when he begged her for the ribbon about her throat. She looked up and met Morgaine's dark, enigmatic smile. I cannot even pray for peace of mind. I have forfeited the right to pray." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "For the first hour of the feast she was moving about, making sure that all of the guests were properly seated and served. By the time she took her seat at the high table they were drunk, most of them, and it was very dark outside. The servants brought lamps and torches, fastening them into the wall, and Arthur said jovially, \"See, my lady, we are lighting our own Beltane fire within walls.\"\n\nMorgaine had come to sit close to Lancelet. Gwenhwyfar's face throbbed with heat and with the wine she had drunk; she turned away so that she might not see them. Lancelet said, with a great yawn, \"Why, it is Beltane indeed-I had forgotten.\"\n\n\"And Gwenhwyfar had it that we must have a feast so that none of our folk would be tempted to slip away into the old rites,\" Arthur said. \"There are more ways to skin a wolf than chasing him out of his fur-if I forbade the fires, then would I be a tyrant-\"\n\n\"And,\" Morgaine said, in her low voice, \"faithless to Avalon, my brother.\"\n\n\"But if my lady makes it more pleasant for my people hereto sit at our feast instead of going out into the fields to dance by the fires, then is our purpose achieved more simply!\"\n\nMorgaine shrugged. To Gwenhwyfar it seemed that she was secretly amused. She had drunk but little-perhaps she was the only wholly sober person at the King's table. \"You have been travelling in Lothian, Lancelet-do they keep the Beltane rites there?\"\n\n\"So says the Queen,\" Lancelet said, \"but for all I know, she may have been jesting with me-I saw nothing to suggest that Queen Morgause is not the most Christian of ladies.\" But it seemed to Gwenhwyfar that he glanced uneasily at Gawaine as he spoke. \"Mark what I say, Gawaine, I said nothing against the lady of Lothian, I have no quarrel with you or yours....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But only a soft snore answered him, and Morgaine's laughter was brittle. \"Look, yonder lies Gawaine asleep with his head on the table! I too would ask news of Lothian, Lancelet... I do not think anyone reared there could so quickly forget the Beltane fires. The sun tides run in the blood of anyone reared on Avalon, like me, like Queen Morgause-is it not so, Lancelet? Arthur, do you remember the kingmaking on Dragon Island? How many years ago-nine, ten-\"\n\nArthur looked displeased, though he spoke gently enough. \" That is many years past and gone, as you say, sister, and the world changes with every season. I think the time for such things is past, save, perhaps, for those who live with fields and crops and must call on the Goddess for their blessing\n\n-Taliesin would say so, and I will not gainsay it. But I think those old rites have little to do with such as we who dwell in castles and cities and have heard the word of Christ.\"He raised his wine cup, emptied it, and spoke with drunken emphasis.\" God will give us all we desire-all that is right for us to have-without need to call upon the old Gods, is it not so, Lance?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar felt Lancelet's eyes on her fora moment before he said, \"Which of us has all things he may desire, my king? No king, and no God, can grant that.\"\n\n\"But I want my-my subjects to have all they need,\" repeated Arthur thickly. \"And so does my queen, giving us our own Bel-Beltane fires here-\"\n\n\"Arthur,\" said Morgaine gently, \"you are drunk.\"\n\n\"Well, and why not?\" he asked her belligerently. \"At my own feast and my own-own fire, and what else did I fight the Saxons for, all those years? Sit here at my own Round Table and enjoy the-the peace-good ale and wine, and good music-where is Kevin the Harper? Am Ito have no music at my feast?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lancelet said, laughing, \"I have no doubt he has gone to worship the Goddess at her fires, and to play his harp there, on Dragon Island.\"\n\n\"Why, this is treason,\" said Arthur thickly. \"And another reason to forbid the Beltane fires, so I may have music-\"\n\nMorgaine laughed and said lightheartedly, \"You cannot command the conscience of another, my brother. Kevin is a Druid and has the right to offer his music to his own Gods if he will.\" She leaned her chin on her hands, and Gwenhwyfar thought she looked like a cat licking cream from her whiskers. \"But I think he has already kept Beltane in his own way-no doubt he has gone to his bed, for all the company here is too drunken to tell the difference between his harping and mine and Gawaine's howling pipes! Even as he sleeps he plays the music of Lothian,\" she added, as a particularly raucous snore from the sleeping Gawaine cut the silence, and she gestured to one of the chamberlains, who went and persuaded Gawaine to his feet. He bowed groggily to Arthur and staggered from the hall.\n\nLancelet raised the cup in his hand and drained it. \"I too have had enough of music and feasting, I think-I have ridden since before daylight, since I would come to your games this day, and soon, I think, I will beg leave to be away to my bed, Arthur.\" Gwenhwyfar gauged his drunkenness by that offhanded Arthur; in public he was always very careful to speak formally to Arthur as'my lord,\" or'my king,\" and only when they were alone did he say'cousin\" or'Arthur.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But indeed, so late in the feast, there were few sober enough to notice-they might as well have been alone together. Arthur did not even answer Lancelet; he had slipped down a little in his high seat, and his eyes were half closed. Well, Gwenhwyfar thought, he had said it himself-it was his own feast and his own fireside, and if a man could not be drunken in his own house, why had he fought so many years to make their feasts safe and secure?\n\nAnd if Arthur should be too drunk tonight to welcome her to his bed, after all... she could feel the ribbon about her neck, where the charm hung, and its weight heavy and hot between her breasts. 'Tis Beltane; could he not keep sober for that? Had he been bidden to one of those old pagan feasts, he would have remembered, she thought, and her cheeks burned with the immodesty of the thought. I must be drunk too! She looked angrily at Morgaine, cool and sober, toying with the ribbons of her harp. Why should Morgaine smile like that?\n\nLancelet leaned toward her and said, \"I think our lord and king has had enough of feasting and wine, my queen. Will you dismiss the servants and Companions, madam, and I'll find Arthur's chamberlain to help him to his bed.\"\n\nLancelet rose. Gwenhwyfar could tell he was drunk, too, but he carried it well, moving with only a little more carefulness than usual. As she began to pass among the guests to bid them goodnight, she felt her own head swim and her steps unsteady. Seeing Morgaine's enigmatic smile, she could still hear the words of the damnable sorceress: Do not seek to blame me, Gwenhwyfar, if the charm acts other than you think it should...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Lancelet came back through the guests streaming out of the hall." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I can't find my lord's body servant-someone in the kitchens said they were all away to Dragon Island for the fires... is Gawaine still here, or Balan? They are the only ones big and strong enough to carry our lord and king to his bed....\"\n\n\"Gawaine was too drunk to carry himself,\" Gwenhwyfar said, \"and I saw not Balan at all. And for sure you cannot carry him, for he is taller and heavier than you-\"\n\n\"Still, I'll have at it,\" said Lancelet, laughing, and bent beside Arthur.\n\n\"Come, cousin-Gwydion! There's none to carry you to bed-I'll give you my arm. Here, come up, there's my brave fellow,\" he said, as if he spoke to a child, and Arthur opened his eyes and staggered to his feet. Lancelet's steps were none too steady, either, thought Gwenhwyfar as she followed the men, nor for that matter were her own... a fine sight they must look, if any servants were sober enough to notice, High King and High Queen and the King's captain of horse all staggering to bed on Beltane-eve too drunk for their feet to carry them....\n\nBut Arthur sobered a little when Lancelet hauled him over the threshold of their room; he went to a ewer of water in the corner, splashed some on his face, and drank more.\n\n\"Thank you, cousin,\" he said, his voice still slow and drunken. \"My lady and I have much for which to thank you, that is certain, and I know you love us both well-\"\n\n\"God is my witness to that,\" said Lancelet, but he looked at Gwenhwyfar with something like despair. \"Shall I go and find one of your servants, cousin?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No, stay a moment,\" Arthur said. \"There is something I would say to you, and if I find not the courage for it now in drink, I shall never say it sober. Gwen, can you manage without your women? I have no mind that this should be carried beyond this chamber by idle tongues. Lancelet, come here and sit by me,\" and sitting on the edge of the bed, he stretched out his hand to his friend. \"You too, sweeting-now listen tome, both. Gwenhwyfar has no child-and do you think I have not seen how you two look at each other? I spoke of this once to Gwen, but she is so modest and pious, she would not hear me. Yet now at Beltane, when all life on this earth seems to cry outwith breeding and fertility... how can I say this? There is an old saying among the Saxons, a friend is one to whom you will lend your favorite wife and your favorite sword....\"\n\nGwenhwyfar's face was burning; she could not look at either of the men. Arthur went on, slowly, \"A son of yours, Lance, would be heir to my kingdom, and better that than it should go to Lot's sons.... Oh, yes, Bishop Patricius would call it grievous sin, no doubt, as if his God were some elderly chaperone who went about at night looking to see who slept in whose bed... I think it greater sin to make no provision fora son to inherit my kingdom. Then should we fall into such chaos as threatened before Uther came to the throne-my friend, my cousin-what do you say?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar saw Lancelet moisten his lips with his tongue, and she felt the dryness of her own mouth. At last he said, \"I know not what to say, my king-my friend-my cousin. God knows-there is no other woman on this earth-\" and his voice broke; he looked at Gwenhwyfar and it seemed she could not endure the naked longing in his eyes. Fora moment she thought she would swoon away, and putout a hand to steady herself on the bed frame." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I am still drunk, she thought, I am dreaming this, I cannot have heard him say what I thought I heard.... and she felt an agonizing burst of shame. It seemed she could not live and let them speak of her like this.\n\nLancelot's eyes had not moved from hers.\n\n\"It is for my-for my lady to say.\"\n\nArthur held out his arms to her. He had drawn off his boots and the rich robe he had worn at the feast; in his undertunic he looked very like the boy she had wedded years ago. He said, \"Come here, Gwen,\" and drew her down on his knee. \"You know I love you well-you and Lance, I think, are the two I love best in the world, save for-\" He swallowed and stopped, and Gwenhwyfar thought suddenly, I have thought only of my own love, I have had no thought for Arthur. He took me unseen, unwanted, and he has shown me love and honored meas his queen. But I never thought that as I love Lancelet, there may well be one whom Arthur loves and cannot have... not without sin and betrayal. I wonder if that is why Morgaine mocks me, she knows Arthur's secret loves... or his sins...\n\nBut Arthur went on deliberately, \"I think I would never have had the courage to say this, were it not Beltane.... For many hundreds of years, our forefathers have done these things without shame, in the very faces of our Gods and by their will. And-listen to this, my dearest-if I am herewith you, my Gwenhwyfar, then should a child come of this, then you may swear without any untruth that this child was conceived in your marriage bed, and none of us need ever know for certain-dear love, will you not consent to this?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Gwenhwyfar could not breathe." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Slowly, slowly, she reached out her hand and laid it in Lancelet's. She felt Arthur's touch on her hair as Lancelet leaned forward and kissed heron the mouth.\n\nI have been married many years and I am as frightened now as any virgin, she thought, and then she remembered Morgaine's words when she laid the charm about her neck. Beware what you ask for, Gwenhwyfar, for the Goddess may grant it to you....\n\nAt the time, she had thought Morgaine meant only that if she prayed fora child, then she might well die in childbirth. Now she knew it was more subtle than that, for it had come about that she should have Lancelet, and without guilt, with her husband's own will and permission... and in a flash of awareness, she thought, It was this I wanted, after all; after all these years it is certain that I am barren, I will bear no child, but I will have had this at least....\n\nWith shaking hands she undid her gown. It seemed that the whole world had dwindled down to this, this perfect awareness of herself, of her own body aching with desire, a hunger she had never believed she could feel. Lancelet's skin was so soft-she had thought all men were like Arthur, sunburnt and hairy, but his body was smooth as a child's. Ah, but she loved them both, loved Arthur all the more that he could be generous enough to give her this... they were both holding her now, and she closed her eyes and put up her face to be kissed, not knowing for certain which man's lips closed over hers. But it was Lancelet's hand that stroked her cheek, moved down to her naked throat where the ribbon clung.\n\n\"Why, what's this, Gwen?\" he asked, his mouth against hers. \"Nothing,\" she said, \"nothing. Some rubbish Morgaine gave me.\" She pulled it free and flung it into a corner, sinking back into her husband's arms and her lover's." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Book Three\n\nThe King Stag\n\nAt this season in Lothian, it seemed the sun hardly went to rest; queen Morgause wakened as the light began to steal through the hangings, yet it was so early the gulls were hardly astir. But there was already light enough to make out the hairy, well-muscled body of the young man who slept at her side... a privilege he had enjoyed most of the winter. He had been one of Lot's esquires, and had cast longing eyes on the queen even before Lot's death. And in the deathly darkness of this winter past, it was too much to ask that she should sleep alone in the king's cold chamber.\n\nIt was not that Lot had been so good a king, she thought, slotting her eyes against the growing light. But his reign had been long-he had reigned since before Uther Pendragon took the throne, and his people were used to him; there were people well into their middle years who had known no other king. He had been on the throne, she thought, when young Lochlann was born... for that matter, so had she. But that thought was less comfortable, and she flinched away from it.\n\nGawaine would have succeeded his father, but Gawaine had hardly visited his native land since Arthur's crowning, and the people did not know him. Herein Lothian, the Tribes were quite content, since there was peace in the land, to be ruled by their queen, with her son Agravaine at hand should they need a leader in war. From timeout of mind, a queen had ruled over the people, as a Goddess had ruled over the Gods, and they were content to have it so.\n\nBut Gawaine had not left Arthur's side... not even when Lancelet had come north before Beltane-he said, to see that the lighthouses had been put in order on the coast so that ships would not be driven onto the rocks. But Morgause supposed, rather, that he came so that Arthur's eyes could see what went on in Lothian, whether there was anyone thereat odds with the rule of the High King." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She had heard, then, of Igraine's death-before that, word had not come north to Lothian. She and Igraine had not been friends when she was younger; she had always envied her older sister her beauty, and had never forgiven her that Viviane had chosen her for Other Pendragon; she would have made a better High Queen than that ninny, so pliant and pious and loving. And when all was said and done, when the lamp was out, one man was not so different from any other, and all of them were ridiculously easy to manage, foolishly dependent on that thing a woman could offer to them. She had ruled well behind Lot's throne; she would have done better yet with Uther, for she would not have become so stupidly entangled with the priests.\n\nYet when she heard of Igraine's death she had mourned her sincerely and wished she had made the time to ride to Tintagel before she died. She had so few woman friends now....\n\nHer waiting-women had mostly been chosen by Lot for their beauty or their availability to the king, and he cared most for such women as did not think very much or talk very intelligently; she was, he said once, quite enough in that line. He took her counsel in all things and respected her wit, but when she had borne him four royal sons, he went back to what he naturally preferred for his bed-pretty women with little of sense. Morgause had never begrudged him his pleasures and was just as well pleased to be spared further childbearing. And if she craved babes to play with, there washer fosterling Gwydion, and Lot's women had always been breeding-Gwydion had playmates enough of royal blood!\n\nLochlann stirred at her side, muttered, and sleepily drew her into his arms, and she gave overthinking for the moment. She had missed him-while Lancelet was at court she had sent Lochlann to sleep among the young men. Though for all the difference it had made to Lancelet, she might have kept Lochlann in her bed, or slept with the house dog! Well, he was here again; Lot had never begrudged her amusement, anymore than she had begrudged him his women." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But when the excitement had subsided, and Lochlann had trundled down the stairs to the privy outside, Morgause thought suddenly that she missed Lot. Not that he had ever been particularly good at this kind of sport... he had been old when she married him. But when that was done, he could talk with her intelligently, and she found that she missed the years when they would wake together, and lie in bed and talk of all that was to be done or what befell in the kingdom, or all of Britain.\n\nBy the time Lochlann came back, the sun was already strengthening and the air was alive with the crying of gulls. She could hear small sounds down the stairs, and somewhere there was a smell of bannock baking. She pulled him to her fora quick kiss and said, \"You must be off, my dear. I want you out of here before Gwydion comes-he is a big boy now, he is beginning to notice things.\"\n\nLochlann chuckled. \"That one, he has been noticing everything since he was out of his nurse's arms. While Lancelet was here he noticed every move he made-even at Beltane. But I do not think you have to worry-he's not old enough to think of that.\"\n\n\"I'm not so certain,\" Morgause said, and patted his cheek. Gwydion's way was to do nothing until he was sure he would not be laughed at as too young. Self-possessed as he was, he could never bear to be told he was too young for anything-even when he was four years old he had flown into a rage at being told he could not go birds-nesting on the cliffs, and had nearly fallen to his death trying to keep up with the older boys. She remembered that occasion, and other similar ones, when she had told him never to do so or so again, and he had set his small dark face and told her, \"Aye, but I shall, and you cannot stop me.\" Her only reply to that had had to be, \"You shall not, or I will myself beat you.\" Not that it mattered whether she beat him or not-it only made him more defiant, unless she was prepared to beat him insensible; and once, losing her temper, she had frightened herself with how hard she had struck the harmless child. None of her own sons, even the strong-willed Gareth, had ever been so defiant. Gwydion took his own way and did what he would, and so as he got older she had taken to subtler methods: \"You shall not, or I shall have your nurse takeoff your breeks and beat you with a heather switch before all the house folk as if you were a babe of four or five.\" That had been effective, fora time-very conscious of his dignity was young Gwydion. But now he did as he would and there was no stopping him; it would have taken a harsh man to thrash him as hard as was needful, and he had away of making anyone who offended him sorry for it, soon or late." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She supposed that he would be more vulnerable when he began to care what the maidens thought of him. Fairy-born he was and dark, like Morgaine, but handsome enough, even as Lancelet was handsome. And it might be that his outward indifference to the maidens would be the same as Lancelet's. She thought about that fora moment, knowing the sting of humiliation. Lancelet... there was the handsomest man she had seen in many along year, and she had made it clear to him that even the queen was not beyond his reach... but Lancelet had professed not to understand, had meticulously called her'Aunt\" early and late-one would have thought from Lancelet's manner that she was elderly indeed, Viviane's twin, not young enough to be Viviane's daughter!\n\nShe had begun taking her breakfast in bed while she talked with her women about what must be done that day. While she lingered, propped upon the cushions-they had brought her some of the fresh hot bannock, and there was, at this time of year, plenty of butter from the dairy-Gwydion came into the room.\n\n\"Good morning, foster-mother,\" he said. \"I have been out and brought you some berries. And there is cream in the pantry. If you want it, I will rundown and fetch it for you.\"\n\nShe looked at the berries, dew-fresh in a wooden bowl. \"That was thoughtful of you, foster-son,\" she said, and sat up in bed to take him close in a great hug. When he was only a little younger he had crawled in beside her into the blankets at such occasions, while she fed him hot bannock and honey, and in winter snuggled him into her furs, like any pampered youngest; she missed the feel of the small warm body burrowing against her, but she supposed he was really too old now." }, { "from": "human", "value": "He straightened himself, smoothing his hair into place-he hated to be mussed." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Like Morgaine, who had always been a tidy little thing.\n\n\"You are out early, my love,\" she said, \"and you did all this just for your old foster-mother? No, I do not want any cream. You do not want me fat as the old sow, do you?\"\n\nHe tilted his head to one side like a small precise bird and looked, considering, at Morgause. \"It wouldn't matter,\" he said. \"You would still be beautiful even if you were fat. There are women at this court-Mara, for instance-she is no bigger than you, but all the other women, and the men, call her Fat Mara. But somehow you do not look as big as you are, because when anyone looks at you, all they see is that you are beautiful. So have the cream if you want it, foster-mother.\"\n\nSo precise an answer fora child! But after all he was beginning to grow into a man. Though he would be like Agravaine, never very tall-one of the Old People, a throwback. And of course, next to the giant Gareth he would always look like a child, even when he was twenty! He had washed his face and brushed his hair very carefully; yes, and it had been trimmed freshly too.\n\n\"How nice you look, my love,\" she said, as his small fingers swooped precisely to appropriate a berry from the dish. \"Did you cut your hair yourself?\"\n\n\"No,\" he said, \"I made the steward do it; I said I was tired of looking like the house dog. Lot was always clean-trimmed and clean-shaven, and so was Lancelet all the time he stayed here. I like to look like a gentleman.\"\n\n\"And so you always do, my dear,\" she said, looking at the small dark hand holding the berry. It was bramble-scratched and the knuckles grimed and grubby like any active boy's hand, but she noted, too, that he had scrubbed it long and hard and that the nails were not dirty and broken but carefully pared short. \"But why have you put on your holiday tunic this morning?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Did I put on my holiday tunic?\" he asked, his small dark face innocent. \"Yes, I suppose I did. Well-\" He paused, and she knew that whatever his reason, and of course he would have a good one, she would never know it. At last he said calmly, \"I soaked my other one in the dew picking your berries, madam.\" Then, suddenly, he said, \"I thought I should hate sir Lancelet, Mother. Gareth talked of him early and late as if he were a God,\" and Morgause remembered that, though he would not weep before her, Gwydion had been heartbroken when Gareth had gone south to King Arthur's court. Morgause had missed him too-Gareth had been the only person alive who had real influence with Gwydion and could make him do as he would with only alight word. Since Gareth had gone there was no one alive to whose counsel Gwydion would listen.\n\n\"I thought he would be a fool full of his own importance,\" Gwydion said, \"but he is nothing of the sort. He told me more about lighthouses than even Lot knew, I think. And he said when I was older I should come to Arthur's court and be made a knight, if I was good and honorable.\" His deep-set dark eyes considered that. \"All the women said I look like him-and they asked, and I was angry that I did not know how to answer them. Foster-mother\"-he leaned forward, his dark, soft hair falling loose over his forehead, lending the composed small face an unusual vulnerability-\"tell me true-is Lancelet my father? I thought that might be why Gareth was so fond of him....\"\n\nAnd you are not the first to ask that question, my love, she thought, stroking the boy's soft hair. The unusual childishness in his face as he asked made her voice gentler than usual." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"No, my little one." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Of all the men in the kingdom, Lancelet could not be your father-I made it my business to ask. All that year you were begotten, Lancelet was in Less Britain, fighting at the side of his father, King Ban. I thought so too, but you look like him because Lancelet is your mother's nephew, as he is mine.\"\n\nGwydion surveyed her skeptically, and Morgause could almost read his thoughts; that she had told him exactly what she would have told him if she had known Lancelet was his father. He said at last, \"Perhaps one day I shall go to Avalon, rather than to Arthur's court. Does my mother dwell now in Avalon, foster-mother?\"\n\n\"I know not.\" Morgause frowned... once again, this oddly adult foster-son of hers had led heron to speak to him as if he were a grown man; he did that so often. It came to her that now Lot was gone, Gwydion was the only person in this household with whom she spoke from time to time as one adult to another! Oh, yes, Lochlann was man enough in bed at night, but he never had much more to say than one of the shepherds or even the housemaids!\n\n\"Go out now, Gwydion my love, I am going to be dressed-\"\n\n\"Why should I go?\" he asked. \"I have known well enough what you look like, ever since I was five years old.\"\n\n\"But you are older now,\" she said, with that old sense of helplessness. \"It is not fitting you should be here while I dress,\"\n\n\"Do you care that much what is fitting, foster-mother?\" he said ingenuously, his eyes resting on the depression in the cushion where Lochlann had lain, and Morgause felt the sudden upward rush of frustration and wrath-he could entangle her in these arguments as if he were a grown man and a Druid! She said sharply, \"I need not account to you for my doings, Gwydion!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Did I say you must?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His eyes were all injured innocence. \"But if I am older, then I will need to know more about women than I did when I was a baby, will I not? I want to stay and talk.\"\n\n\"Oh, stay, stay if you want to,\" she said, \"but turn your back, I'll not have you staring at me, sir Impudence!\" Obediently he turned away, but as she rose and signalled her woman to bring her gown, he said, \"No, put on your blue gown, foster-mother, the new one from the looms, and your saffron cloak.\"\n\n\"And now you will be giving me advice on what I should wear? What's this, what's this?\"\n\n\"I like to see you dressed like a fine lady and a queen,\" he said, persuasively. \"And tell them to dress your hair high with your gold coil, will you not, foster-mother? To please me?\"\n\n\"Why, you would have me fine as a Midsummer feast, so that I should sit and card wool in all my best gear-my women would laugh, child!\"\n\n\"Let them laugh,\" Gwydion coaxed. \"Will you not dress in your finest to please me? And who knows what may happen before the day is done? You might be glad of it.\"\n\nMorgause, laughing, gave way. \"Oh, as you wish-if you will have it that I dress myself fora festival, let it be so... we will have our own festival here, then! And now I suppose the kitchen must bake honey cakes for this imaginary festival-\"\n\nA child, after all, she thought, he thinks in this way to tease for sweets. But then, he brought me berries, why not? \"Well, Gwydion, shall I have them bake a honey cake for supper?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "He turned around." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her gown was still unlaced, and she saw his eyes linger fora moment on her white breasts. Not such a child, then. But he said, \"I am always happy to have a honey cake, but perhaps there will be some fish to bake, too, for dinner.\"\n\n\"If we are to have fish,\" she said, \"you will have to change your tunic again and go fishing for it yourself. The men are busy with the sowing.\"\n\nHe answered quickly, \"I will ask Lochlann to go-it will be like a holiday for him. He deserves one, doesn't he, foster-mother, you are pleased with him, aren't you?\"\n\nIdiotic! Morgause thought. I will not blush before a boy his age! \"If you would like to send Lochlann fishing, love, do so. He can be spared today, I suppose.\"\n\nAnd she thought, she would like well to know what was really in Gwydion's mind, with his holiday tunic and his insistence that she should wear her finest gown and provide a good dinner. She called her housekeeper and said, \"Master Gwydion would like a honey cake. See to it.\"\n\n\"He shall have his cake,\" said the housekeeper, with an indulgent look at the boy. \"Look at his sweet face, like one of those angels, he is.\"\n\nAngel. That is the last thing I would call him, thought Morgause; but she directed her woman to do her hair up with the gold coil. She would probably never learn what was on Gwydion's mind.\n\nThe day wore slowly along in its accustomed way. Morgause had wondered at times whether Gwydion had the Sight, but he had never shown any of the signs, and when once she asked him point-blank he had acted as if he did not know what she was talking about. And if he had, she thought, at least once she would have caught him bragging of it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ah, well. For some obscure child's reason, Gwydion had wanted a festival and had coaxed her into it. No doubt, with Gareth gone, he was lonely all the time-he had little in common with Lot's other sons. Nor did he have Gareth's passion for arms and knightly things, nor so far as she could tell, Morgaine's gift for music, though his voice was clear, and sometimes he would bring out a little set of pipes like those the shepherd lads played and make strange, mournful-sounding music. But it was not a passion as it had been with Morgaine, who would have sat happy all day at her harp if she could.\n\nStill, he had a quick and retentive mind. For three years, Lot had sent fora learned priest from Iona to dwell in their house and teach the boy to read; he had said the priest was to teach Gareth too while he was about it, but Gareth had no mind to his book. He struggled obediently with letters and Latin, but no more than Gawaine-nor Morgause herself, for that matter-could he keep his mind fixed on written symbols or the mysterious tongue of those old Romans. Agravaine was quick enough-he kept all the tallies and accounts of the estate, he had a gift for numbering things; but Gwydion soaked up every bit of learning, it seemed, as quickly as it was put before him. Within a year he could read as well as the priest himself and speak in Latin as if he were one of those old Caesars reborn, so that for the first time Morgause wondered might there not be something, after all, in what the Druids said-that we were reborn again and again, learning more and more in each life.\n\nHe is such a son as should make his father proud, Morgause thought. And Arthur has no son at all by his queen. One day-yes, one day, I shall have a secret to tell Arthur, and then I can hold the King's conscience in my hand. The thought amused her vastly. She was surprised Morgaine had never used that hold she had on Arthur-she could have forced him to negotiate a marriage for her with the richest of his subject kings, could have had jewels, or power... but Morgaine cared nothing for such things, only for her harp and for the nonsense the Druids talked. At least she, Morgause, would make better use of this unexpected power thrust into her hand." }, { "from": "human", "value": "She satin her hall, dressed in her unaccustomed finery, carding the wool from the spring shearing, and making decisions: Gwydion must have anew cloak-he grew so fast, his old one was about his knees already and no good to him in the winter cold, and no doubt he would grow faster yet this year." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Should she, perhaps, give him Agravaine's cloak, cut down a little, and make anew one for Agravaine? Gwydion, in his saffron holiday tunic, came and sniffed appreciatively as the scent of the honey cake, rich with spices, began to drift through the room, but he did not hang about to tease that it should be cut and that he should have a slice early, as he would have done only a few months ago. At midday he said, \"Mother, I will have apiece of bread and cheese in my hand and I will be off to walk the boundaries-Agravaine said I should go and see if all the fences are in good order.\"\n\n\"Not in your holiday shoes,\" said Morgause.\n\n\"Certainly not. I will go barefoot,\" Gwydion said, unfastening his sandals and leaving them beside her near the hearth; he tucked up his tunic through his belt so that it was well above his knees, took up a stout stick, and was off, while Morgause frowned after him-this was not a task Gwydion ever took upon himself, no matter what Agravaine wanted! What was with the lad this day?\n\nLochlann came back after midday with a fine large fish, so heavy Morgause could not lift if, she surveyed it with pleasure-it would feed everyone who ate at the high table and there would be cold baked fish for three days. Cleaned, scented with herbs, it lay ready for the baking oven when Gwydion came in, his feet and hands scrubbed clean, his hair combed, and slipped his feet into his sandals again. He looked at the fish and smiled.\n\n\"Yes, indeed, it will be like a festival,\" he said with satisfaction." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Have you done walking all the fences, foster-brother?\" Agravaine asked, coming in from one of the barns where he had been doctoring a sick pony.\n\n\"I have, and they are mostly in good order,\" said Gwydion, \"but at the very top of the north fells where we had the ewes last fall, there is a great hole in the fences where all the stones have fallen down. You must send men to fix it before you put any sheep to pasture there, and as for goats, they'd be away before you could speak to them!\"\n\n\"You went all the way up there alone?\" Morgause frowned at him in dismay. \"You are not a goat-you could have fallen and broken a leg in the ravine and no one would have known for days! I have told you and told you, if you go upon the fells, take one of the shepherd lads with you!\"\n\n\"I had my reasons forgoing alone,\" retorted Gwydion, with that stubborn set of his mouth, \"and I saw what I wanted to see.\"\n\n\"What could you possibly see that would be worth risking some injury and lying there all alone for days?\" demanded Agravaine crossly.\n\n\"I have never fallen yet,\" Gwydion said, \"and if I did, it is I who would suffer for it. What is it to you, if I take my own risks?\"\n\n\"I am your elder brother and ruler in this house,\" said Agravaine, \"and you will show me some respect or I will knock it into you!\"\n\n\"Perhaps if you knocked your head open, you could shove some sense inside it,\" Gwydion said pertly, \"for sure, it will never grow thereon its own-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You wretched little-\"\n\n\"Aye, say it,\" Gwydion shouted, \"mock me with my birth, you-I do not know my father's name, but I know who fathered you, and between the two I would rather be in my situation!\"\n\nAgravaine took a heavy step toward him, but Morgause quickly rose and thrust Gwydion behind her. \"Don't tease the boy, Agravaine.\"\n\n\"If he always runs to hide behind your skirts, Mother, is it any wonder I cannot teach him to obey?\" demanded Agravaine.\n\n\"It would take a better man than you to teach me that,\" Gwydion said, and Morgause drew back at the bitterness in his voice.\n\n\"Hush, hush, child-don't speak so to your brother,\" she admonished, and Gwydion said, \"I am sorry, Agravaine-I should not have been rude to you.\"\n\nHe smiled up, his eyes big and lovely under dark lashes, the picture of a contrite child. Agravaine grumbled, \"I am only thinking of your welfare, you young rascal-do you think I want you to break every bone in your body? And why would you take it into your head to climb the fells alone?\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Gwydion, \"otherwise you would not have known of the hole in the fences, and you might have pastured sheep there or even goats, and lost all of them. And I never tear my clothes-do I, Mother?\"\n\nMorgause chuckled, for it was true-Gwydion was easy on his clothes. There were some boys like that. Gareth had only to put on a tunic and it was crumpled, stained, and dirty before he had worn it an hour, while Gwydion had climbed the high fells in his saffron holiday tunic and it looked as if he had that moment taken it from the washing-woman. Gwydion looked at Agravaine in his working smock and said, \"But you are not fit to sit at table with Mother in her fine clothes. Go and put on your fine tunic, brother. Would you sit down to dinner in your old smock like a farmer?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I won't be ruled by a young knave like you,\" Agravaine growled, but he did go off toward his chamber, and Gwydion smiled with secret satisfaction." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He said, \"Agravaine should have a wife, Mother. He is bad-tempered as a bull in spring, and besides, you should not have to weave his clothes and mend them.\"\n\nMorgause was amused. \"No doubt you are right. But I want no other queen beneath this roof. No house is big enough for the rule of two women.\"\n\n\"Then you should find him a wife who is not too well-born and very stupid,\" said Gwydion, \"so that she will be glad you can tell her what to do, because she will be afraid of making a mistake among gentlefolk. The daughter of Niall would be about right-she is very pretty, and Niall's folk are rich but not too rich, because so many of their cattle and sheep died in the bad winter six years ago. She would have a good dowry, because Niall is afraid she will not marry. The girl had the measles when she was six years old, and her eyesight is not good, and she is not too broad in the wit, either. She can spin and weave well enough, but she has neither the eyesight nor the cleverness for much more, so she will not mind much if Agravaine keeps her always breeding.\"\n\n\"Well, well, well, what a statesman you are already,\" said Morgause caustically. \"Agravaine should appoint you one of his councillors, you are so wise.\" But she thought, aye, he is right, I will speak to Niall tomorrow.\n\n\"He could do worse,\" said Gwydion seriously, \"but I shall not be here for that, Mother. I meant to tell you, when I went upon the fells, I saw-no, but here is Donil the hunter, he can tell you.\" And indeed, the big hunter was already coming into the hall, bending low before Morgause." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"My lady,\" he said, \"there are riders on the road, nearing the great house-a sedan chair draped like the Avalon barge, and with them a hunchbacked man with a harp, and servants in the garb of Avalon." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They will be herein half an hour.\"\n\nAvalon! Then Morgause saw Gwydion's secret smile and knew that he had been ready for this. But he has never spoken of having the Sight! What child would not brag of it, if he did? And suddenly, the thought that he could conceal it, enjoy it yet more that his knowledge was secret, seemed uncanny to her, so that fora moment she shrank away, almost afraid of her foster-son. And she knew he saw it, and was not displeased.\n\nAll he said was, \"Now isn't it lucky that we have a honey cake, and baked fish, and that we have all dressed in our best clothing, so we may do honor to Avalon, Mother?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Morgause said, staring at her foster-son. \"Very lucky indeed, Gwydion.\"\n\nAS SHE stood in the front yard to welcome the riders, she found herself remembering a day when Viviane and Taliesin had come to the faraway castle of Tintagel. Taliesin, she supposed, was long past such journeys, even if he was still alive. She would have heard if he had died. And Viviane rode no longer in boots and breeches like a man, travelling at speed, a law unto herself.\n\nGwydion stood quietly at her side. In his saffron tunic, his dark hair neatly combed from his face, he looked very like Lancelet.\n\n\"Who are these visitors, Mother?\"\n\n\"I suppose it is the Lady of the Lake,\" Morgause said, \"and the Merlin of Britain, the Messenger of the Gods.\"\n\n\"You told me my own mother was a priestess of Avalon,\" said Gwydion. \"Does their coming have anything to do with me?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well, well, do not tell me there is anything you do not know!\" said Morgause sharply, then relented. \"I do not know why they have come, my dear; I have not the Sight. But it may well be. I want you to hand the wine about, and to listen and to learn, but not to speak unless you are spoken to.\"\n\nThat, she thought, would have been hard for her own sons-Gawaine, Gaheris, and Gareth were noisy and inquisitive, and it had been difficult to school them to courtly manners. They were, she thought, great friendly dogs, while Gwydion was like a cat, silent, sleek, fastidious, and watchful. Morgaine as a child had been like that... Viviane did not well when she cast Morgaine aside, even if she was angry with her forbearing a child... and why should it matter to her? She herself bore children, including that damnable Lancelet, who has set Arthur's kingdom so much at havoc that even here we have heard how the Queen favors him.\n\nAnd then she wondered, why did she assume that Viviane had not wanted Morgaine to bear this child? Morgaine had quarrelled with Avalon, but perhaps that had been Morgaine's doing and not the Lady's.\n\nShe was deep in thought; and Gwydion touched her arm and murmured in an undertone, \"Your guests, Mother.\"\n\nMorgause sank in a deep curtsey before Viviane, who seemed to have shrunk. Always before this, she had been ageless, but now she looked withered, her face lined, her eyes sunk into her face. But she had the same lovely smile, and her voice was low and sweet as ever.\n\n\"Ah, it is good to see you, little sister,\" she said, drawing Morgause into an embrace. \"How long has it been? I like not to think of the years! How young you look, Morgause! Such pretty teeth, and your hair as bright as ever. You met Kevin Harper at Arthur's wedding, before he was the Merlin of Britain.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It seemed that Kevin too had grown older, stooped and gnarled, like an ancient oak tree; well, that was fitting, she thought, for one of those who consorted with oaks, and felt her mouth move in a little ripple of secret mirth. \"You are welcome, Master Harper-Lord Merlin, I should say. How is it with the noble Taliesin? Is he yet in the land of the living?\"\n\n\"He lives,\" said Viviane as another woman stepped from the sedan chair. \"But he is old and fragile now, he will not make such a journey as this again.\" And then she said, \"This is a daughter of Taliesin, a child of the oak groves-Niniane. So she is your half-sister, Morgause.\"\n\nMorgause was a little dismayed as the younger woman stepped forward and embraced her, saying in a sweet voice, \"I am glad to know my sister.\" Niniane seemed so young! She had fair reddish-gold hair and blue eyes beneath silky long lashes. Viviane said, \"Niniane travels with me, now I am old. She is the only one except myself dwelling upon Avalon who is of the old royal blood.\" Niniane was dressed as a priestess; her fair hair was braided low across her forehead, but the blue crescent mark of a priestess, freshly painted with blue dye, could be clearly seen. She spoke with the trained voice of a priestess, filled with power; but she herself seemed young and powerless as she stood next to Viviane.\n\nMorgause sought to recapture her sense that she was hostess and these were her guests; she felt like a kitchen girl before the two priestesses and the Druid. Then she reminded herself angrily that both these women were her own half-sisters, and as for the Merlin, he was only an old hunchback! \"Be welcome to Lothian and to my hall. This is my son Agravaine, who reigns here while Gawaine is away at Arthur's court. And this is my foster-son, Gwydion.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The boy bowed gracefully to the distinguished guests, but made only a polite murmur of acknowledgment.\n\n\"He is a handsome lad and well grown,\" said Kevin. \"This, then, is Morgaine's son?\"\n\nMorgause lifted her eyebrows. \"Would it avail anything to deny it to one who has the Sight, sir?\"\n\n\"Morgaine herself told me, when she heard that I rode north to Lothian,\" Kevin said, and a shadow crossed his face.\n\n\"Then Morgaine dwells again in Avalon?\" asked Morgause, and Kevin shook his head. Morgause saw that Viviane too looked distressed.\n\n\"Morgaine is at Arthur's court,\" said Kevin. Viviane said, pressing her lips together, \"She has work to do in the world outside. But she will return to Avalon at the appointed time. There is a place awaiting her which she must take.\"\n\nGwydion asked softly, \"Is it of my mother that you speak, Lady?\"\n\nViviane looked straight at Gwydion and suddenly she seemed tall and imposing-the old priestess-trick, thought Morgause, but Gwydion had never seen it before. And the Lady said, her voice suddenly filling the courtyard, \"Why do you ask me, child, when you already know the answer perfectly well? Would you mock at the Sight, Gwydion? Take care. I know you better than you think, and there are still a few things in this world that you do not know!\"\n\nGwydion backed away, his mouth open, suddenly only a precocious child again. Morgause raised her eyebrows; so there was still someone and something which could frighten him! For once he did not try to excuse or explain himself in his usual glib manner." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She took the initiative again, saying, \"Come in. All things are prepared to welcome you, my sisters, Lord Merlin.\" And as she looked at the red cloth she had set upon the high table, the goblets and fine ware standing there, she thought, Even here at the end of the world, our court is no pigsty! She conducted Viviane to her own high seat and set Kevin Harper next to her. As Niniane was stepping upon the dais she stumbled, and Gwydion was swiftly there, with a ready hand and a polite word.\n\nWell, well, at last our Gwydion is beginning to take notice of a pretty woman. Or is it just good manners or a wish to ingratiate himself because Viviane chided him? She was perfectly well aware that she would never know the answer.\n\nThe fish was baked to perfection, the red fish flaking lightly away from the bones, and there was enough of the honey cake for most of the house people to have some; and she had sent for extra barley beer so that each of the people in the lower hall might have something extra to their meal as well. There was plenty of fresh-baked bread and an abundance of milk and butter, as well as cheese made with ewe's milk. Viviane ate as sparingly as ever, but she was ready in praise of the food.\n\n\"You set a queenly table indeed. I would not be better guested in Camelot. I had not looked for such welcome, coming without warning as I did,\" she said.\n\n\"Have you been to Camelot? Have you seen my sons?\" Morgause asked, but Viviane shook her head and her forehead ridged in a scowl.\n\n\"No, not yet. Though I shall go thither at what Arthur now calls Pentecost, like to the church fathers themselves,\" she said, and for some reason Morgause felt a slight icing of her back; but with her guests she had no leisure to think of it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kevin said, \"I saw your sons at court, lady. Gawaine had a small wound at Mount Badon, but it healed clean and is hidden by his beard... he has begun wearing a small beard like to the Saxons, not because he wishes to be like them, but he cannot shave daily without slicing the top from the scar. He may start anew fashion at court! I saw not Gaheris-he is away to the south, fortifying the coast. Gareth is to be made a Companion at Arthur's high feast at Pentecost. He is one of the biggest, and one of the trustiest men at court, though sir Cai still bullies him and calls him'Handsome' for his pretty face.\"\n\n\"He should have been made one of Arthur's Companions already!\" said Gwydion jealously, and Kevin looked more kindly on the boy. \"So, you are jealous for your kinsman's honor, my lad? Indeed he well deserves to be a Companion, and he is treated as one now his rank is known. But Arthur wished to show him honor at his first high feast in Camelot, so he will be made Companion with all the ceremony the King can manage. Rest you content, Gwydion, Arthur well knows his worth, even as he knows Gawaine's. And he is one of Arthur's youngest Companions.\"\n\nThen, even more shyly, Gwydion asked, \"Know you my mother, Master Harper? The lady M-Morgaine?\"\n\n\"Aye, lad, I know her well,\" said Kevin gently, and Morgause thought that the ugly little man had at least a speaking voice that was rich and beautiful. \"She is one of the fairest ladies at Arthur's court, and one of the most gracious, and she plays the harp as well as a bard.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Come, come,\" said Morgause, her lips crinkling up in a smile, and amused at the obvious devotion in the harper's voice." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It is well to tell a tale to amuse a child, but truth must be served too. Morgaine, fair? She is plain as a raven! Igraine was beautiful when she was young, all men knew that, but Morgaine resembles her not at all.\"\n\nKevin's voice was respectful but also amused. \"There is an old saying in the wisdom of the Druids... beauty is not all in a fair face, but lies within. Morgaine is indeed very beautiful, Queen Morgause, though her beauty resembles yours no more than a willow tree resembles a daffodil. And she is the only person at court to whose hands I will ever trust My Lady.\" He gestured to his harp which had been unwrapped and set at his side, and picking up her cue, Morgause asked Kevin if he would favor them with a song.\n\nHe took up the harp and sang, and fora time the hall was perfectly still except for the harp notes and the bard's voice, and as he sang, the people in the lower hall crept as close as they could to listen to the music. But when he had done, and Morgause had dismissed the house-folk-although she allowed Lochlann to stay, sitting quietly near the fire-she said, \"I too love music well, Master Harper, and you have given us a pleasure I shall long remember. But you did not travel all this long journey from Avalon to the Northlands so that I might have feasting with a harper. I beg of you, tell me why you come here so unexpectedly.\"\n\n\"Not so unexpected,\" said Viviane, with a little smile, \"for I found you all dressed in your best and ready to greet us with wine and baked fish and honey cakes. You had warning of my coming, and since you had nevermore than a glimmering of the Sight, I can only imagine it was another not far from here who warned you.\" She cast an ironic glance at Gwydion, and Morgause nodded." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But he told me not why, only bade me prepare all things fora festival, and I thought it was a child's whim, no more.\"\n\nGwydion was hanging over Kevin's seat as he began to wrap his harp, and he asked, putting his handout hesitantly, \"May I touch the strings?\"\n\n\"You may,\" said Kevin mildly, and Gwydion plucked a string or two, saying, \"I have never seen so fine a harp.\"\n\n\"Nor will you ever. I think there is no finer one here, nor even in Wales, where there is a whole college of bards,\" said Kevin. \"My Lady was a king's gift tome, and she never leaves my side. And like many women,\" he added, with a courtly bow to Viviane, \"she grows but more beautiful with the years.\"\n\n\"Would that my voice had grown sweeter as I grew old,\" said Viviane good-humoredly, \"but the Dark Mother has not willed it so. Only her immortal children sing more sweetly as the years grow longer. May My Lady never sing less beautifully than now.\"\n\n\"Are you fond of music, master Gwydion? Have you learned anything of the harp?\"\n\n\"I have not a harp to play,\" said Gwydion. \"Coll, who is the only harper at court, has now such stiff fingers that he seldom touches the strings. We have had no music for two years now. I play a little upon the small pipe, though, and Aran-he that was Lot's piper at war-taught me to play a little upon the pipe of elk-horn... it hangs yonder. He went with King Lotto Mount Badon, and like Lot, he came not back.\"\n\n\"Bring me the pipe,\" said Kevin, and when Gwydion brought it from where it hung on the wall, he rubbed it clean with a cloth, blew the dust from inside it, then put it to his lips and set his twisted fingers to the neat row of holes bored in the horn. He played a little dancing tune, then set it aside, saying, \"I have small skill for this-my fingers are not quick enough. Well, Gwydion, if you love music, they will teach you at Avalon-let me hear you play a little upon this horn.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwydion's mouth was dry-Morgause saw him wet his lips with his tongue-but he took the wood-and-horn thing in his hands and blew carefully into it. Then he began to play a slow melody, and Kevin, after a moment, nodded.\n\n\"That will do,\" he said. \"You are Morgaine's son, after all-it would be strange if you had no gift at all. We maybe able to teach you much. You may have the makings of a bard, but more likely of a priest and Druid.\"\n\nGwydion blinked and almost let the pipe fall from his hand; he caught it in the skirt of his tunic.\n\n\"Of a bard-what do you mean? Tell me clear!\"\n\nViviane looked straight at him, \"It is the appointed time, Gwydion. You are Druid-born, and of two royal lines. You are to be given the ancient teachings and the secret wisdom in Avalon, that one day you may bear the dragon.\"\n\nHe swallowed-Morgause could see him absorbing this. She could well imagine that the thought of secret wisdom would attract Gwydion more than anything else they might have offered. He stammered, \"You said-two royal lines-\"\n\nViviane shook her head faintly when Niniane would have answered, so Niniane said only, \"All things will be made clear to you when the proper time comes, Gwydion. If you are to be a Druid, the first thing you must learn is when to be silent and ask no questions.\"\n\nHe looked up at her mutely, and Morgause thought, It was worth all the trouble of this day to see Gwydion for once impressed even to speechlessness! Well, she was not surprised; Niniane was beautiful-she looked very much as Igraine had looked as a young girl, or she herself, only with fair hair rather than red." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Viviane said quietly, \"This much I can tell you at once-the mother of your mother's mother was the Lady of the Lake, and from along line of priestesses. Igraine and Morgause also bear the blood of the noble Taliesin, and so do you. Many of the royal lines of these islands, among the Druids, have been preserved in you, and if you are worthy, a great destiny awaits you. But you must be worthy-royal blood alone makes not a king, but courage, and wisdom, and farsightedness. I tell you, Gwydion, that he who wears the dragon maybe more of a king than he who sits on a throne, for the throne maybe won by force of arms, or by craft, or as Lot won it, by being born in the right bed and begot by the right king. But the Great Dragon can be won only by one's own efforts, not in this life alone, but those which have gone before. I tell you a mystery.\"\n\nGwydion said, \"I-I do not understand!\"\n\n\"Of course you do not!\" Viviane's voice was sharp. \" Even as I said\n\n-it is a mystery, and wise Druids have sometimes studied for many lifetimes to understand less than that. I did not mean that you should understand, but that you should listen and hear, and learn to obey.\"\n\nGwydion swallowed and lowered his head. Morgause saw Niniane smile at him, and he drew along breath, as if reprieved, and sat down at her feet, listening quietly, for once without trying to make any pert answer or explanation. Morgause thought, Perhaps the training of the Druids is what he needs!\n\n\"So you have come to tell me I have fostered Morgaine's son long enough, and the time is come when he shall betaken to Avalon and schooled in the learning of the Druids. But you would not have travelled yourself by this long road to tell me that-you could have sent any lesser Druid to take the boy into his custody. I have known for years that it would not befit Morgaine's son to end his days among shepherds and fisherfolk. And where else than Avalon would his destiny be laid? I beg you, tell me the rest-oh, yes, there is more, I see in your faces that there is more.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kevin opened his mouth to speak, but Viviane said sharply, \"Why should I tell you all my thoughts, Morgause, when you seek to turn all things to your advantage and that of your own sons? Even now, Gawaine is nearest the High King's throne not only because of blood, but also in Arthur's love. And I foresaw when Arthur was wedded to Gwenhwyfar that she would bear no child. I thought it only likely that she might die inbreeding, so I wished not to meddle with what happiness Arthur might have-then could we have found him, afterward, a more suitable wife. But I let it goon too long, and now he will not put her away, even though she is barren-and you see in that no more than an opportunity for your own son's advancement.\"\n\n\"You should not assume she is barren, Viviane.\" Kevin's face was set in bitter lines. \"She was pregnant before Mount Badon, and she carried this child a full five months-she might well have brought it to birth. I think she miscarried because of the heat, and the close confinement in the castle, and her own fear of the Saxons... and it was pity for her, I think, which caused Arthur to betray Avalon and put aside the dragon banner.\"\n\nNiniane said, \"So it was not only her childlessness, Queen Morgause, by which Gwenhwyfar did Arthur such great harm. She is a creature of the priests, and already she has influenced him too well. If someday it should happen that she bear a child that might live to grow up... that would be the worst of all.\"\n\nMorgause felt as if she would stifle. \"Gawaine-\"\n\nViviane said harshly, \"Gawaine is Christian as Arthur. He longs only to please Arthur in all things!\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Extend the narrative as the author's co-writer.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 8" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kevin opened his mouth to speak, but Viviane said sharply, \"Why should I tell you all my thoughts, Morgause, when you seek to turn all things to your advantage and that of your own sons? Even now, Gawaine is nearest the High King's throne not only because of blood, but also in Arthur's love. And I foresaw when Arthur was wedded to Gwenhwyfar that she would bear no child. I thought it only likely that she might die inbreeding, so I wished not to meddle with what happiness Arthur might have-then could we have found him, afterward, a more suitable wife. But I let it goon too long, and now he will not put her away, even though she is barren-and you see in that no more than an opportunity for your own son's advancement.\"\n\n\"You should not assume she is barren, Viviane.\" Kevin's face was set in bitter lines. \"She was pregnant before Mount Badon, and she carried this child a full five months-she might well have brought it to birth. I think she miscarried because of the heat, and the close confinement in the castle, and her own fear of the Saxons... and it was pity for her, I think, which caused Arthur to betray Avalon and put aside the dragon banner.\"\n\nNiniane said, \"So it was not only her childlessness, Queen Morgause, by which Gwenhwyfar did Arthur such great harm. She is a creature of the priests, and already she has influenced him too well. If someday it should happen that she bear a child that might live to grow up... that would be the worst of all.\"\n\nMorgause felt as if she would stifle. \"Gawaine-\"\n\nViviane said harshly, \"Gawaine is Christian as Arthur. He longs only to please Arthur in all things!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kevin said, \"I know not whether Arthur has any great commitment to the Christian God or whether it is all Gwenhwyfar's doing, to please her and pity her-\"\n\nMorgause said scornfully, \"Is that man fit to rule who would forswear his oath fora woman's sake? Is Arthur forsworn, then?\"\n\nKevin said, \"I heard him say that since Christ and Mary the Virgin gave him the victory at Mount Badon, he will not put them aside now. And I heard him say more, when he spoke with Taliesin-that Mary the Virgin was even as the Great Goddess, and it was she had given him the victory to save this land... and that the banner of the Pendragon was that of his father Uther, and not his own....\"\n\n\"Still,\" said Niniane, \"he had no right to cast it all aside. We in Avalon set Arthur on his throne, and he owes it to us-\"\n\nMorgause said impatiently, \"What matters it what banner flies over a king's troops? The soldiers need something to inspire their imagination-\"\n\n\"As usual, you ignore the point,\" said Viviane. \"It is what lives in their dreams and imagination that we must control from Avalon, or this struggle with Christ will be lost and their souls lie in slavery to a false faith! The symbol of the dragon should be always before them, that mankind seek to accomplish, not to think of sin and do penance!\"\n\nKevin said slowly, \"I know not-perhaps it would be as well that there should be these lesser mysteries for the fools, and then could the wise be shown the inner teaching. Perhaps it has been made all too easy for mankind to come to Avalon, and so they value it not.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Viviane said, \"Would you have it that I should sit by and see Avalon go further into the mists, even as the fairy country?\"\n\n\"I am saying, Lady,\" said Kevin, deferentially, but firmly, \"that it may even now be too late to prevent it-Avalon will always be therefor all men to find if they can seek the way thither, throughout all the ages past the ages. If they cannot find the way to Avalon, it is a sign, perhaps, that they are not ready.\"\n\n\"Still,\" said Viviane, in that hard voice, \"I shall keep Avalon within the world, or die in attempting it!\"\n\nThere was a silence in the hall, and Morgause realized that she was icy cold. She said, \"Buildup the fire, Gwydion-\" and passed the wine. \"Drink, will you not, sister? And you, Master Harper?\"\n\nNiniane poured the wine, but Gwydion sat still, as if dreaming or entranced. Morgause said, \"Gwydion, do as I bade you-\" but Kevin putout a hand and bade her be still. He said, in a whisper, \"The boy's in trance. Gwydion, speak-\"\n\n\"It is all blood-\" he whispered, \"blood, poured out like the blood of sacrifice on the ancient altars, blood spilt on the throne-\"\n\nNiniane stumbled and tripped, and the rest of the wine, blood red, went cascading over Gwydion where he sat, and across Viviane's lap. She rose, startled, and Gwydion blinked and shook himself like a puppy. He said, confused, \"What-I am sorry-let me help you,\" and took the wineskin from Niniane's hand. \"Ugh, it looks like spilt blood, let me fetch a cloth from the kitchens,\" and streaked away like any active lad." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well, there's your blood,\" said Morgause with disgust. \"Is my Gwydion, too, to be lost in dreams and sickly visions?\"\n\nMopping the sticky wine from her gown, Viviane said, \"Disparage not another's gift because you have not the Sight, Morgause!\"\n\nGwydion came back with the cloth, but as he bent to mop it away, he faltered, and Morgause took the cloth from his hand and beckoned one of the serving-women to come and dry the table and the hearth. He looked ill, but where normally he would have tried to make more of it for her attention, she saw that he turned quickly away as if ashamed. She ached to take him in her arms and rock him, this child who had been her last baby when the others were grown and gone, but she knew he would not thank her for it and held her peace, staring down at her linked hands. Niniane putout a hand to him, too, but it was Viviane who beckoned him, her eyes stern and unflinching.\n\n\"Speak the truth tome: how long have you had the Sight?\"\n\nHe lowered his eyes and said, \"I know not-I did not know what to call it.\" He fidgeted, refusing to look at her.\n\nShe said quietly, \"And you concealed it for pride and love of power, did you not? Now it has mastered you, and you must master it in turn. We came none too soon here-I hope we have not come too late. Are you unsteady on your feet? Sit here, then, and be still.\"\n\nTo Morgause's astonishment, Gwydion sank down quietly at the feet of the two priestesses. After a moment Niniane put her hand on his head and he leaned against her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Viviane turned again to Morgause and said, \"As I told you before, Gwenhwyfar will bear Arthur no son, but he will not put her aside. All the more because she is a Christian, and their religion forbids a man to put his wife away-\"\n\nMorgause shrugged and said, \"What of that? She has miscarried once, or it maybe, more than once. And she is not so young a woman, not now. Life is uncertain for women.\"\n\n\"Aye, Morgause,\" said Viviane, \"once before you sought to trade on that uncertainty of life, so that your son might stand near to the throne-did you not? I warn you, my sister-meddle not in what the Gods have decreed!\"\n\nMorgause smiled. \"I thought, Viviane, that you lectured me long-or was it Taliesin?-that nothing comes about save by the will of the Gods. If Arthur had died ere he came to Uther's throne, why then, I doubt not the Gods would have found another to serve their turn.\"\n\n\"I came not hereto argue theology, you miserable girl,\" said Viviane angrily. \"Do you think, if I had my will, that I would have entrusted you with life or death for the royal line of Avalon?\"\n\nMorgause said with silky wrath, \"But the Goddess willed it not that you should do your own will, so it seems tome, Viviane. I am weary of this talk of old prophecy... if there be any Gods at all, of which I am not even certain, I cannot believe they would stoop to meddle in the affairs of men. Nor will I wait upon the Gods to do what I see clearly must be done-who's to say that the Goddess cannot work through my hand as well as another.\" She saw that Niniane was shocked-aye, she was another such ninny as Igraine, believing all this talk of Gods. \"As for the royal line of Avalon, you see I have fostered it well.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"He seems strong and well, a healthy boy,\" said Viviane, \"but can you swear you have not flawed him within, Morgause?\"\n\nGwydion raised his head and said sharply, \"My foster-mother has been good tome. The lady Morgaine cared not much for the fostering of her son-not once has she come hitherto ask whether I lived or died!\"\n\nKevin said severely, \"You were bade speak only when spoken to, Gwydion. And you know nothing of Morgaine's reasons or purposes.\"\n\nMorgause looked sharply at the crippled little bard. Has Morgaine confided in this wretched abortion, when I had to force her secret from her by spells and the Sight? She felt a surge of wrath, but Viviane said, \"Enough. You fostered him well while it suited you, Morgause, but I mark you have not forgotten he stands one step nearer the throne than did Arthur at his age, and two steps nearer than your own son Gawaine! As for Gwenhwyfar, I have seen that she is to play some part in the fate of Avalon-she cannot be wholly without the Sight or the vision, for once she broke through the mists and stood upon the shores of Avalon. Perhaps if she were given a son, and it was made clear that it was by Avalon's arts and will-\" She glanced at Niniane. \"She is capable of conception-with a strong sorceress at her side to keep her from casting forth the child.\"\n\n\"It is too late for that,\" Kevin said. \"It was all her doing that Arthur betrayed Avalon and set aside the dragon banner. The truth is, I suppose, that her wits are not in the right place.\"\n\n\"The truth is,\" said Niniane, \"that you bear her a grudge, Kevin. Why?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The harper cast his eyes down and stared at his scarred and twisted hands. He said at last, \"True. I cannot even in my thoughts deal fair with Gwenhwyfar-I am no more than human. But even if I loved her well, I would say she is no queen fora king who must rule from Avalon. I would not grieve, should she suffer some accident or mischance. For if she gave Arthur a son, she would think it only the goodness of Christ, though the Lady of the Lake herself stood by her bed. I cannot help but pray she has no such good fortune.\"\n\nMorgause smiled her cat smile. \"Gwenhwyfar may seek to be more Christian than Christ's self,\" she said, \"but I know something of their Scriptures, for Lot had a priest here from Iona to teach the lads. The Holy Writ runs thus, that he is damned who shall put his wife away save for adultery. And even herein Lothian we have heard-the Queen is hardly so chaste as all that. Arthur is away often at the wars, and all men know how she looks with favor upon your son, Viviane.\"\n\n\"You do not know Gwenhwyfar,\" Kevin said. \"She is pious more than reason, and Lancelet is so much Arthur's friend that I think Arthur would not move against them unless he took the two of them together in his bed before all of the court.\"\n\n\"Even that might be arranged,\" said Morgause. \"Gwenhwyfar is too beautiful to think that other women would love her much. Surely someone around her could make an open scandal, to force Arthur's hand-\"\n\nViviane made a grimace of distaste. \"What woman would betray a fellow womanlike that?\"\n\nMorgause said, \"I would, if I were convinced it was for the good of the kingdom.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I would not so,\" said Niniane, \"and Lancelet is honorable, and Arthur's closest friend. I doubt he would betray Arthur for Gwenhwyfar. If we wish Gwenhwyfar set aside, we must look elsewhere.\"\n\n\"And there is this,\" said Viviane, and she sounded tired. \"Gwenhwyfar has done nothing wrong that we know-we cannot set her down from Arthur's side while she keeps the bargain she has made, to be a dutiful wife to Arthur. If a scandal is made, there must be truth in it. Avalon is sworn to uphold the truth.\"\n\n\"But if there were a true scandal?\" Kevin said.\n\n\"Then she must take her chances,\" Viviane said, \"but I will not be party to any false accusations.\"\n\n\"Yet she has at least one other enemy,\" said Kevin thoughtfully. \"Leodegranz of the Summer Country has just died, and his young wife and her last child with her, Gwenhwyfar is queen there now; but Leodegranz had a kinsman-he claims to be a son, but I believe it not-and I think he would like it well if he could claim to be king in the old manner of the Tribes, by bedding with the queen.\"\n\nGwydion said, \"It is well they have no such custom at Lot's most Christian court, is it not?\" But he spoke softly, so that they could affect not to hear him. And Morgause thought: He is angry because he is being ignored, that is all. Am Ito be angry because a puppy bites me with his little teeth?\n\n\"By the old custom,\" said Niniane, her pretty brow ridging into little lines, \"Gwenhwyfar is not wedded to any unless she has borne him a son, and if another man can take her from Arthur-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Aye, there's the question,\" said Viviane, laughing." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Arthur can keep his wife by force of arms. And he would do it, too, I doubt not.\" Then she sobered. \"The one thing we can be certain of is that Gwenhwyfar shall remain barren. Should she conceive again, there are spells to make certain she carries not the child to birth, or past the first few weeks. As for Arthur's heir...\" She paused, and looked at Gwydion, still sitting like a sleepy child, his head resting on Niniane's lap. \"There sits a son of the royal line of Avalon-and son to the Great Dragon.\"\n\nMorgause caught her breath. Never once, in all these years, had it occurred to her that it was anything other than the gravest mischance that Morgaine had gotten herself with child by her half-brother. Now she saw the complexity of Viviane's plan and was awe-stricken by the audacity of it-to set a child of Avalon and of Arthur on the throne after his father.\n\nWhat of the King Stag when the young stag is grown...? Fora moment Morgause did not know whether the thought had been her own or had come into her head as an echo from one of the two Avalon priestesses before her; always she had had these disturbing, incomplete moments of the Sight, though she could never control when they would come or go, and, truth to tell, had not cared to do so.\n\nGwydion's eyes were wide; he leaned forward, his mouth open. \"Lady-\" he said breathlessly, \"is it true-that I, I am the son of the-of the High King?\"\n\n\"Aye,\" said Viviane, her mouth tight, \"though the priests will never acknowledge it. To them it would be sin of all sins, that a son should get a son on his mother's daughter. They have set themselves up holier than the Goddess herself, who is mother to us all. But it is so.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kevin turned; slowly, painfully, with his crippled body, he knelt down before Gwydion.\n\n\"My prince and my lord,\" he said, \"child of the royal line of Avalon, and son to the son of the Great Dragon, we have come to take you to Avalon, where you maybe prepared for your destiny. On the morrow you must be ready to depart.\"\n\n\"On the morrow you must be ready to depart....\"\n\nIt was like to the terror of a dream that they should speak thus openly of what I had kept secret all these years, even during that time when none thought I could live after his birth.... I could have gone to my death with none knowing I had borne a child to my own brother. But Morgause had got the secret from me, and Viviane knew... it was an old saying, three could keep a secret if but two of them lay in their graves.... Viviane had planned this, she had used meas she had used Igraine!\n\nBut the dream was beginning to breakup now and shift and ripple as if it were all underwater. I fought to keep it, to hear, but it seemed that Arthur was there and he drew a sword and advanced on Gwydion, and the child caught Excalibur from its scabbard....\n\nMorgaine sat bolt upright in her room at Camelot, catching at the blanket. No, she told herself, no, it was a dream, only a dream. I do not even know who sits next to Viviane in Avalon, no doubt it is Raven, not this fair-haired woman so like to my mother that I have seen again and again in my dreams. And who knows if such a woman walks the face of this earth or Avalon, or whether she is a confused dream of my mother? I do not remember anyone even a little like her in the House of Maidens...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I should be there. It is I should beat Viviane's side, and I cast it away of my freewill....\n\n\"Look,\" Elaine called from the window. \"Already there are riders coming in, and it is three full days till Arthur's great feast!\"\n\nThe other women in the chamber crowded around Elaine, looking down at the field before Camelot; already there were tents and pavilions pitched there. Elaine said, \"I see my father's banner. There he rides, with my brother, Lamorak, at his side-he is old enough to be one of Arthur's Companions now. I wonder if Arthur will choose him as one.\"\n\n\"He was not old enough to fight at Mount Badon, was he?\" Morgaine asked.\n\n\"He was not old enough, but he fought nevertheless, as did every man old enough to hold a sword, and every young boy too,\" said Elaine proudly.\n\n\"Then I doubt not that Arthur will make him one of his Companions, if only to please Pellinore,\" said Morgaine. The great battle of Mount Badon had been fought a year ago on the day of Pentecost, and Arthur had vowed always to keep this day as a time of high feasting and to greet all his old Companions; on Pentecost, too, he would welcome all petitioners and give out justice. And all the subject kings from the outlying kingdoms would come before the High King to renew their allegiance.\n\n\"You must go to the Queen and help her dress,\" Morgaine said to Elaine, \"and I must be off as well. I have much to do if there is to be a great feast in only three days!\"\n\n\"Sir Cai will see to all that,\" Elaine remonstrated.\n\n\"Aye, he will see to the feeding and housing of the multitudes,\" said Morgaine cheerfully, \"but it is I must provide flowers for the hall, and see to the polishing of the silver cups, and it is likely I must make the almond cakes and sweets too-Gwenhwyfar will have other things on her mind.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And indeed, Morgaine was glad to have so much to do for the three days of feasting; it took her mind away from the dread and terror of her dream. In these days, whenever Avalon came into her mind in a dream, she shut it outwith desperation... she had not known that Kevin rode north to Lothian. No, she told herself, and I do not know it now, it was only a dream. But once during that day, when she encountered the elderly Taliesin in the courtyard, she bowed to him, and when he putout a hand to bless her, she said shyly, \"Father-\"\n\n\"Yes, dear child?\"\n\nTen years ago, Morgaine thought, I would have been angry that Taliesin speaks tome always as if I were still a child of seven who might crawl into his lap and tug at his beard. Now, obscurely, it comforted her. \"Is Kevin the Merlin bound here for Pentecost?\"\n\n\"Why, I know not, child,\" said Taliesin, with a kindly smile. \"He has ridden north to Lothian. But I know that he loves you well and that he will return to you when he can. I think nothing would keep him from this court while you were here, little Morgaine.\"\n\nDoes everyone at this court know that we have been lovers? Surely I have been more discreet than that. Morgaine said waspishly, \"Is it common gossip at this court that Kevin the Harper comes and goes at my bidding-when it is not even true?\"\n\nTaliesin smiled again and said, \"Dear child, never be ashamed to love. And it has meant everything to Kevin, that one so kindly and gracious and beautiful as you-\"\n\n\"Do you mock me, Grandsire?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Why should I so, little one?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "You are the daughter of my dear daughter, and I love you well, and you know I think you the most beautiful and gifted of women. And Kevin, I have no doubt, thinks you so even more, and you are the only one at this court save myself, and the only woman ever, who can speak to him of music in his own language. If you know not that for Kevin the sunrises and sets where you come and go, then you are the only one at this court who knows it not. You deserve it well that he should turn to you as the starshine of his days and nights. It is not even forbidden to the Merlin of Britain that he should marry, if he chooses. Royal he is not, but he is noble in heart, and will one day be High Druid if his courage fails him not. And on the day when he seeks your hand, I do not think either Arthur or myself would say him no.\"\n\nMorgaine lowered her face and stared at the ground. Ah, she thought, how fitting it would be if I could care so for Kevin as he for me. I value him, I love him well, I take pleasure even in sharing his bed, but marriage? No, she thought, no, no, not for all his devotion. \"I have no mind to be married, Grandsire.\"\n\n\"Well, you must do your own will, child,\" Taliesin said gently. \"You are lady and priestess. But you are not so young, either, and since you have forsaken Avalon-no, I do not reproach you, but I thought it might well be that you wished to marry and have a home of your own. I would not see you spend all your days as Gwenhwyfar's waiting-woman. As for Kevin the Harper, no doubt he will be here if he can, but he cannot ride as swiftly as other men. It is good that you do not despise him for his body's infirmity, dear child.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When Taliesin had gone, Morgaine went on toward the brew house, thinking deeply. She wished she could indeed love Kevin as Taliesin thought she did.\n\nWhy am I cursed with this feeling for Lancelet? All the time she prepared scented rosewater for washing guests' hands and flavoring confections, she thought about that. Well, when Kevin was here, at least she had no reason to desire Lancelet-not that it would do her any good, she thought wryly, to desire him. Desire must go two ways or it is worthless. She resolved that when Kevin came back again to court, she would give him such a welcome as he could wish.\n\nNo doubt, I could do worse than wed with him... Avalon is lost tome... I will think of it. And indeed my dream saw true so far, that he was in Lothian... and I thought the Sight had forsaken me....\n\nKEVIN RETURNED to Camelot on the eve of Pentecost; all that day folk had been streaming into Camelot and the surrounding country, as if it were twice over harvest fair and spring-trading fair. It was the greatest festival ever to beheld in this countryside. Morgaine welcomed Kevin with a kiss and embrace which made the harper's eyes glow, and led him to a guest chamber, where she took his cloak and travelling shoes and sent them with one of the boys to be cleaned, and brought him ribbons to make his harp fine.\n\n\"Why, My Lady will be brave as the Queen,\" said Kevin, laughing at her. \"Do you not bear grudge to your only rival, Morgaine, love?\"\n\nHe had never called her so before, and she came and stood close to him, her arm around his waist. He said softly, \"I have missed you,\" and laid his face fora moment against her breast." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And I you, my dear,\" she said, \"and when all have gone to rest this night, I shall prove it to you... why, do you think, have I arranged that you shall have a guest chamber to yourself, when even Arthur's dearest Companions have had to be housed four to a room and sometimes two to abed?\"\n\nHe said, \"I thought it was so that none other need share quarters with me.\"\n\n\"And so it shall be for the dignity of Avalon,\" said Morgaine, \"though even Taliesin shares his chamber with the bishop-\"\n\n\"I do not admire his taste,\" said Kevin. \"I would sooner be housed in the stable with the other donkeys!\"\n\n\"I would have it that the Merlin of Britain should be lodged in a chamber to himself, even if it is no bigger than a stall for one of those donkeys,\" said Morgaine. \"But it is large enough for you and for My Lady, and\"-she smiled and looked pointedly at the bed-\"and for me, I daresay.\"\n\n\"You will always be welcome, and if My Lady is jealous I will turn her face to the wall.\" He kissed her, holding her tight fora moment with all the strength in his wiry arms. Then, letting her go, he said, \"I thought you would like to hear-I rode with your son to Avalon. He is a well-grown lad, and a clever one, and has some of your gift for music.\"\n\n\"I dreamed of him the other night,\" she said. \"In my dream, I think he played on a pipe-like Gawaine's.\"\n\n\"Then you dreamed truly,\" said Kevin. \"I like him well, and he has the Sight. He will be schooled in Avalon fora Druid.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And then?\"\n\n\"Then? Ah, my dear,\" said Kevin, \"things must go as they will. But I doubt not he will make a bard and a notable wise man-you need have no fear for him upon Avalon.\" He touched her shoulder gently. \"He has your eyes.\"\n\nShe would have liked to ask more, but turned to something else. \"The feast will not be till tomorrow,\" she said, \"but tonight the closest of Arthur's friends and Companions have been bidden to dine. Gareth is to be made a knight upon the morrow, and Arthur, who loves Gawaine like a brother, has chosen to honor him at a family party.\"\n\n\"Gareth is a good man and a good knight,\" said Kevin, \"and I will gladly do him honor. I like not Queen Morgause greatly, but her sons are fine men and good friends to Arthur.\"\n\nEven though it was a family party, there were many close kinsmen to sit at Arthur's table hereon the eve of Pentecost: Gwenhwyfar and her kinswoman Elaine, and Elaine's father, King Pellinore, and her brother, Lamorak; Taliesin and Lancelet, and three of Lancelet's half-brothers-Balan, son of the Lady of the Lake, and Bors and Lionel, both of whom were sons of Ban of Less Britain. Gareth was there, and as always, Gawaine stood behind Arthur at table. Arthur had protested, as they came into the hall. \"Sit here beside us tonight, Gawaine-you are my kinsman, and king in your own right in Orkney, and I like it not that you should stand like a serving-man behind my place!\"\n\nGawaine said roughly, \"I am proud to stand and serve my lord and king, sir,\" and Arthur bent his head." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You make me feel like those old Caesars,\" he complained." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Need I be guarded night and day even in my own hall?\"\n\n\"For the dignity of your throne, sir, you are even as those Caesars, and more,\" insisted Gawaine, and Arthur laughed helplessly.\n\n\"I can deny nothing to those of you who were my Companions.\"\n\n\"So,\" Kevin said in an undertone to Morgaine, where they sat side by side, \"it is not hubris then or arrogance, but he wishes only to please his Companions-\"\n\n\"I think, truly, it is so,\" Morgaine said in an undertone. \"This he loves best, I think, to sit in his own hall and look upon the peace he has wrought; whatever his faults, Arthur truly loves the rule of order and the kingdom of law.\"\n\nLater, Arthur gestured them all to silence, calling young Gareth to him. \"Tonight you will watch in the church by your arms,\" he said, \"and in the morning before mass, whichever knight you choose shall make you one of my Companions. You have served me well and honorably, young as you are. If you wish for it, I will myself make you knight, but I will understand if you wish that your brother should give you this honor.\"\n\nGareth wore a white tunic; his hair was like a golden halo curling around his face. He looked almost like a child, a tall child towering to a good six feet high, with shoulders like a young bull. His face was fuzzy with soft golden down too fine to be shaven. He said, stammering a little in his eagerness, \"Sir, I beg you-I mean no offense to you nor to my brother, but I-if he will-could I be made knight by Lancelot, my lord and my king?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arthur smiled. \"Why, if Lancelet will have it so, I have no objection.\"\n\nMorgaine remembered a little child prattling of Lancelet to a painted wooden knight she had carved for him. How many people, she wondered, saw such a childhood dream come true? Lancelet said gravely, \"I should be honored, cousin,\" and Gareth's face lighted as if a torch had been set to it. Then Lancelet turned to Gawaine and said, with punctilious courtesy, \"But it is for you to give me leave, cousin-you stand in a father's place to this lad, and I would not usurp your right-\"\n\nGawaine looked awkwardly from one to the other of them, and Morgaine saw Gareth bite his lip-only now, perhaps, did he understand that this might be seen as an offense to his brother, and that the King had done him the honor of offering to make him a knight-an honor he had refused. What a child he was, despite his great strength and height and precocious skill at arms!\n\nGawaine said gruffly, \"Who would be made knight by me when Lancelet would consent to do it?\"\n\nLancelet flung an exuberant arm around each of them. \"You dome too much honor, both of you. Well, go, lad,\" he said, releasing Gareth, \"go to your arms, I will come and watch with you after midnight.\"\n\nGawaine watched as the boy loped away, with his long awkward stride, and then said, \"You should be one of those old Greeks, as it was told in that saga we read when we were boys. How was he called-Achilles-whose truelove was the young knight Patroclus, and neither cared anything for all the fine dames of the court of Troy-God knows every lad in this court worships you as their hero. Pity you have no mind to the Greek fashion in love!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lancelet's face turned dusky red. \"You are my cousin, Gawaine, and can say such things tome-I would not hear such things from any other, even in jest.\"\n\nGawaine laughed loudly again. \"Aye, a jest-for one who professes devotion only to our most chaste Queen-\"\n\n\"You dare!\" Lancelet began, turning on him, and gripped his arm with strength enough to break his wrist. Gawaine struggled, but Lancelet, though he was the smaller man, bent his arm backward, growling with rage like an angry wolf.\n\n\"Here! No brawling in the King's hall!\" Cai thrust himself awkwardly between them, and Morgaine said quickly, \"Why, Gawaine, what then will you say to all those priests who profess devotion to Mary the Virgin beyond all things on earth? Would you have it they all have a scandalous carnal devotion to their Christ? And indeed, we hear of the Lord Jesus that he never married, and that even among his chosen twelve there was one who leaned on his bosom at supper-\"\n\nGwenhwyfar gave a shocked cry. \"Morgaine, hush! Such a blasphemous jest!\" Lancelet let goof Gawaine's arm; Gawaine stood rubbing the bruise, and Arthur turned and frowned at them.\n\n\"You are like children, cousins, squabbling and bickering-shall I send you to be beaten by Cai in the kitchens? Come now, befriends again! I heard not the jest, but whatever it was, Lance, it cannot have been so serious as all that!\"\n\nGawaine laughed roughly and said, \"I jested, Lance-all too many women pursue you, I know, for what I said to have anything at all of truth,\" and Lancelet shrugged and smiled, like a bird with ruffled feathers." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Cai chuckled." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Every man at court envies you your handsome face, Lance.\" He rubbed the scar that pulled his mouth uptight into a sneer, and said, \"But it may not be all that much of a blessing, eh, cousin?\"\n\nIt dissolved into good-natured laughter, but later Morgaine, crossing the court, saw Lancelet still pacing, troubled, feathers still ruffled.\n\n\"What is it, kinsman, what ails you?\"\n\nHe sighed. \"I would that I might leave this court.\"\n\n\"But my lady will not let you go.\"\n\n\"Even to you, Morgaine, I will not talk of the Queen,\" he said stiffly, and it was Morgaine's turn to sigh.\n\n\"I am not the keeper of your conscience, Lancelet. If Arthur does not chide you, who am Ito speak a word of reproach?\"\n\n\"You don't understand!\" he said fiercely. \"She was given to Arthur like something bought at market, part of a purchase in horses because her father would have kinship with the High King as part of the price! Yet she is too loyal to murmur-\"\n\n\"I spoke no word against her, Lancelet,\" Morgaine reminded him. \"You hear accusations from yourself, not from my lips.\"\n\nShe thought, I could make him desire me, but the knowledge was like a mouthful of dust. Once she had played that game, and beneath the desire he had feared her, as he feared Viviane herself; feared her to the edge of hatred because of that desire. If his king commanded he would have her, but would soon come to hate.\n\nHe managed to look directly at her. \"You cursed me, and-and believe me, I am cursed.\"\n\nAnd suddenly the old anger and contempt melted. He was as he was. She clasped his hand between her own. \"Cousin, don't trouble yourself about that. It was many, many years ago, and I don't think there is any God or Goddess who would listen to the words of an angry young girl who thought herself scorned. And I was no more than that.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He drew along breath and began to pace again. At last he said, \"I could have killed Gawaine tonight. I am glad you stopped us, even with that blasphemous jesting. I-I have had to deal with that, all my life. When I was a boy at Ban's court, I was prettier than Gareth is now, and in the court of Less Britain, and like enough in other places, such a boy must guard himself more carefully than any maiden. But no man sees or believes any such thing unless it touches him, and thinks it only a slightly vulgar joke made about other people. There was a time when I thought it so too, and then a time when I thought I could never be otherwise....\"\n\nThere was along silence, while he stared grimly at the flagstones of the courtyard.\n\n\"And so I flung myself into experiment with women, any woman-God help me, even with you who were my own mother's fosterling and pledged maiden to the Goddess-but there were few women who could rouse me even a little, till I saw-her.\" Morgaine was glad he did not speak Gwenhwyfar's name. \"And since that moment there has been no other. With her, I know myself all man.\"\n\nMorgaine said, \"But she is Arthur's wife-\"\n\n\"God! God!\" Lancelet turned and struck his hand against the wall. \"Do you think that does not torment me? He is my friend; if Gwenhwyfar were wedded to any other man who dwells this earth, I would have had her away with me and to my own place-\" Morgaine saw the muscles of his throat move as he tried to swallow. \"I do not know what will become of us. And Arthur must have an heir to his kingdom. The fate of all Britain is more important than our love. I love them both-and I am tormented, Morgaine, tormented!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "His eyes were wild; fora moment it seemed to Morgaine that she saw some hint of madness." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ever after, she wondered, Was there anything, anything I could have said or done that night?\n\n\"Tomorrow,\" Lancelet said, \"I shall beg Arthur to send me out on some difficult quests-to go and make an end forever of Pellinore's dragon, to conquer the wild Northmen beyond the Roman wall-I care not what, Morgaine, anything, anything to take me away from here-\" and fora moment, hearing in his voice a sadness beyond tears, Morgaine wanted to hold him in her arms and rock him at her breast like a babe.\n\nI think I came near to killing Gawaine tonight, had you not stopped us,\"Lancelet said.\" Yet he was only jesting, he would have died with horror if he knew-\"Lancelet turned his eyes away and at last said in a whisper,\" I know not if what he said is true. I should take Gwenhwyfar and begone from here, before it becomes a scandal to all the courts of the world, that I love the wife of my king, and yet... yet it is Arthur I cannot leave... I know not but what I love her only because I come close, thus, to him.\"\n\nMorgaine putout her hand to stop him. There were things she could not bear to know. But Lancelet did not even see.\n\n\"No, no, I must tell someone or I shall die of it-Morgaine, know you how first I came to lie with the Queen? I had loved her long, since first I saw heron Avalon, but I thought I would live and die with that passion unspent-Arthur was my friend and I would not betray him,\" he said. \"And she, she-you must never think that she tempted me! But-but it was Arthur's will,\" he said. \"It came about at Beltane-\" and then he told her, while Morgaine stood frozen, thinking only, So this is how the charm worked... I would that the Goddess had stricken me with leprosy before ever I gave it to Gwenhwyfar!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But you do not know all,\" he whispered. \"As we lay together-never, never had anything so-so-\" He swallowed and fumbled to put into words what Morgaine could not bear to hear. \"I-I touched Arthur-I touched him. I love her, oh, God, I love her, mistake me not, but had she not been Arthur's wife, had it not been for-I doubt even she-\" He choked and could not finish his sentence, while Morgaine stood utterly still, appalled beyond speech. Was this then the revenge of the Goddess-that she who loved this man without hope, should become the confidante of both him and the woman he loved, that she should be the repository of all the secret fears he could speak to no one else, the incomprehensible passions within his soul?\n\n\"Lancelet, you should not say these things tome, not tome. Some man-Taliesin-a priest-\"\n\n\"What can a priest know of this?\" he demanded in despair. \"No man, I think, has ever felt such-God knows I hear enough of what men desire, they talk of nothing else, and now and then some man reveals something strange he may desire, but never, never, nothing so strange and evil as this! I am damned,\" he cried out. \"This is my punishment for desiring the wife of my king, that I should beheld in this terrible bondage-even Arthur, if he knew, would hate and despise me. He knows I love Gwenhwyfar, but this not even he could forgive, and Gwenhwyfar-who knows if she, even she, would not hate and despise me-\" His voice choked into silence.\n\nMorgaine could only say the words she had been taught in Avalon. \"The Goddess knows what is in the hearts of men, Lancelet. She will comfort you.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But this is to spurn the Goddess,\" Lancelet whispered, in frozen horror. \"And what of the man who sees that same Goddess in the face of the mother who bore him... I cannot turn to her.... Almost I am tempted to go and throw myself at the feet of the Christ. His priests say he can forgive any sin, however damnable, as he spoke words of forgiveness to those who crucified him....\"\n\nMorgaine said sharply that she had never seen any sign that his priests were so tender and forgiving with sinners.\n\n\"Aye, no doubt you are right,\" said Lancelet, staring bleakly at the flagstones. \"There is no help anywhere, till I am slain in battle or ride forth from hereto throw myself in the path of a dragon....\" He poked with his shoe at a little clump of grass that was growing up through the stones in the courtyard. \"And no doubt sin and good and evil are all lies told by priests and men, and the truth is only that we grow and die and wither even as this grass here.\" He turned on his heel. \"Well, I will go and share Gareth's vigil, as I promised him... heat least loves me in all innocence, like a younger brother or my son. I should fear to kneel before that altar, if I believed one word of what their priests say, damned as I am. And yet-how I wish there were such a God as could forgive me and let me know myself forgiven....\"\n\nHe turned to go, but Morgaine caught at the embroidered sleeve of the festival gown he had put on. \"Wait. What is this of a vigil in the church? I knew not that Arthur's Companions had grown so pious.\"\n\n\"Arthur thinks often of his kingmaking on Dragon Island,\" said Lancelet, \"and he said once that the Romans with their many Gods, and the old pagan folk, had something which was needed in life, that when men took on some great obligation, they should do it prayerfully, and be in mind of its great meaning and dedication. And so he spoke with the priests, and they have made it so in ritual, that when any new Companion, not seasoned by battle-where he is tried by the very confrontation with death-when an unblooded man joins with the Companions, there is this special testing, that he shall watch and pray all night by his arms, and in the morning confess all his sins and be shriven, and then be made knight.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Why, then, it is a kind of initiation into the Mysteries that he would give them. But he is no maker of Mysteries, he has no right to confer the Mysteries on another or give initiation, and all garbled in the name of their Christ God. In the name of the Mother, will they even takeover the Mysteries?\"\n\nLancelet answered defensively, \"He consulted with Taliesin, who gave countenance to it,\" and Morgaine was startled that one of the highest Druids would so compromise the Mysteries. Yet there had been a time, so Taliesin said, when Christian and Druid worshipped in common.\n\n\"It is what happens in the soul of the man,\" said Lancelet, \"not whether it is Christian or pagan or Druid. If Gareth faces the mystery in his heart, and it makes him a better man in his soul, does it matter whence it comes, from the Goddess or from Christ or from that Name the Druids may not speak-or from the very goodness within himself?\"\n\n\"Why, you argue like Taliesin's very self!\" said Morgaine sourly.\n\n\"Aye, I know the words.\" His mouth twisted with terrible bitterness. \"Would to God-any God-I could find something in my heart which believed them, or some such comfort as that!\"\n\nMorgaine could only say, \"I would that you might, cousin. I will pray for you.\"\n\n\"But to whom?\" Lancelet asked and went away, leaving Morgaine sorely troubled.\n\nIt was not yet midnight. In the church she could seethe lights where Gareth and now Lancelet kept vigil. She bent her head, remembering the night when she herself had kept watch, her hand automatically going to her side for the touch of a little crescent knife that had not hung therefor many years." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And I cast it away. Who am Ito speak of profaning the Mysteries?\n\nThen the air suddenly stirred and swirled like a whirlpool before her, and she felt she would sink down where she stood, for Viviane stood before her in the moonlight.\n\nShe was older and thinner. Her eyes were like great burning coals set beneath her level brows, her hair almost all white now. She looked on Morgaine, it seemed, with sorrow and tenderness.\n\n\"Mother-\" she stammered, not knowing whether she spoke to Viviane or to the Goddess. And then the image wavered and Morgaine knew that Viviane was not there; a Sending, no more.\n\n\"Why have you come? What do you want of me?\" Morgaine whispered, kneeling, feeling the stir of Viviane's robes in the night wind. About her brow was a crown of wicker-withes like to the crown of the queen of the fairy country. The apparition stretched forth her hand, and Morgaine could feel the faded crescent burning on her brow.\n\nThe nightwatchman strode through the court, the light of his lantern flaring; Morgaine knelt alone, staring at nothing. Hastily she scrambled to her feet before the man could see.\n\nShe had lost, suddenly, all desire to go to Kevin's bed. He would be waiting for her, but if she did not come, he would never think of reproaching her. She stole quietly through the hallways to the room she shared with Gwenhwyfar's unmarried maidens, and into the bed she shared with young Elaine.\n\nI thought the Sight forever gone from me. Yet Viviane came tome and stretched out her hand. Is it that Avalon has need of me? Or does it mean that I, like Lancelet, am going mad?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When Morgaine woke, all around her the castle was already waking to the noise and confusion of a holiday. Pentecost. In the courtyard there were banners flying, and people were streaming in and out of the gates, servants were setting up lists for the games, pavilions were sprouting allover Camelot and on the slopes of the hill like strange and beautiful flowers. There was no time for dreams and visions. Gwenhwyfar sent for her to dress her hair-no woman in all Camelot was so deft with her hands as Morgaine, and Morgaine had promised her that this morning she would braid the Queen's hair in the special plaits with four strands which she herself used on high festivals. While she was combing out and separating Gwenhwyfar's fine silky hair for braiding, Morgaine glanced sidewise at the bed from which her sister-in-law had risen. Arthur had already been dressed by his servants and gone out. The pages and chamberlains were spreading the covers, taking away soiled clothes to be cleaned and washed, laying out fresh gowns for Gwenhwyfar's approval.\n\nMorgaine thought: They shared that bed, all three of them, Lancelet, Gwenhwyfar, Arthur-no, such a thing was not wholly unknown; she remembered something in the fairy country that would not come clear in her mind. Lancelet was tormented, and she could have no idea how Arthur regarded all this. As her small quick hands moved on Gwenhwyfar's hair, she wondered what her sister-in-law felt. Suddenly her own mind was flooded with erotic images, memory of that day on Dragon Island when Arthur, waking, had drawn her into his arms, of the night she had lain in Lancelet's arms in the field. She lowered her eyes and went on twisting the fine hair." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You are pulling it too tight,\" Gwenhwyfar complained, and Morgaine said stiffly, \"I am sorry,\" and forced her hands to relax. Arthur had been only a boy then, and she a maiden. Lancelet-did he give to Gwenhwyfar what he had withheld from her, or was the Queen content with those childish caresses? Try as Morgaine would, she could not turn her mind from the hateful pictures that haunted it, but she went on calmly braiding, her face a mask.\n\n\"There, that will hold-hand me the silver pin,\" she said, fastening up the braids. Gwenhwyfar surveyed herself, delighted, in the copper mirror which was one of her treasures. \"It is beautiful, dear sister-thank you so much,\" she said, turning and impulsively embracing Morgaine, who stiffened in her arms.\n\n\"You owe me no thanks-it is easier to do on another's head than my own,\" Morgaine said. \"Wait, that pin is slipping-\" and she refastened it. Gwenhwyfar was glowing, beautiful-and Morgaine put her arms around her, laying her cheek fora moment against Gwenhwyfar's. It seemed enough, fora moment, to touch that beauty, as if something of it could penetrate her and give her some of that glow and loveliness. Then she remembered again what Lancelet had told her, and thought, I am no better than he. I too nurse all manner of strange and perverse desires, and who am Ito mock at any?\n\nShe envied the Queen, laughing happily as she directed Elaine to go to her chests and seek out cups for prizes for the winners of the games. Gwenhwyfar was simple and open, she was never tortured by these dark thoughts; Gwenhwyfar's griefs were simple, the griefs and troubles of any woman, fear for her husband's safety, grief over her childlessness-for all the charm's working, there had been no sign of pregnancy. If one man could not get her with child, it is likely that two could not, Morgaine thought wickedly." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwenhwyfar was smiling. \"Shall we go down? I have not greeted the guests-King Uriens is here from North Wales, with his grown son. How would you like to be Queen of Wales, Morgaine? I have heard that Uriens will ask the King fora wife among his wards-\"\n\nMorgaine laughed. \"You think I would make him a good queen because I am not likely to give him a son to challenge Avalloch's claim to the throne?\"\n\n\"It is true you would be old to bear a first child,\" Gwenhwyfar said, \"yet I still have hope that I may give my lord and king an heir.\" Gwenhwyfar did not know that Morgaine had a child, and she should never know.\n\nYet it nagged at her.\n\nArthur should know that he has a son. He blames himself that he can give Gwenhwyfar no child-for his own peace of mind he should know. And if it should come to pass that Gwenhwyfar never bears a child, then at least the King has a son. None need know that it is his own sister's. And Gwydion bears the royal line of Avalon. And now he is old enough to be sent to Avalon and be made a Druid. Truly I should have gone to look upon his face, long before this day....\n\n\"Listen,\" said Elaine, \"the trumpets are blowing in the courtyard-someone important is here, and we must make haste-they will serve mass in the church this morning.\"\n\n\"And Gareth is to be knighted,\" said Gwenhwyfar. \"It is a pity Lot did not live to see his youngest son made knight-\"\n\nMorgaine shrugged. \"He took no great joy in Arthur's company, nor Arthur in his.\" So, she thought, Lancelet's protege would be made one of the Companions; and then she remembered what Lancelet had told her about the ritual watch and vigil of knighthood-the mockery of the Mysteries. Is it my task to speak to Arthur about his duty to Avalon? He bore the image of the Virgin into battle at Mount Badon; he laid aside the dragon banner; and now he has turned one of the greater Mysteries over to the Christian priests. I will seek counsel of Taliesin...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We must go down,\" said Gwenhwyfar, and tied on her pockets at her waist, fastening her keys to her girdle. She looked fine and stately with the braided headdress, in her gown of saffron color; Elaine wore a dress dyed green, and Morgaine her red gown. They went down the stair, gathering before the church. Gawaine saluted Morgaine, saying, \"Kinswoman,\" and bowed to the Queen. Beyond him she saw a familiar face, and frowned a little, trying to remember where she had seen that knight before: tall, burly, bearded, almost as blond as a Saxon or a Northman, then she remembered, Balan's foster-brother Balin. She bowed to him coldly. He was a stupid, narrow-minded fool, yet even so he was bound by the sacred ties of foster-kin to Viviane, who washer nearest and dearest kinswoman.\n\n\"I greet you, sir Balin.\"\n\nHe scowled a little but remembered his manners. He was wearing a frayed and ragged surcoat; clearly he had been travelling long and had not yet had time to dress and refresh himself. \"Are you going to mass, lady Morgaine? Have you renounced the fiends of Avalon and left that evil place, and accepted our Lord and Saviour Christ, lady?\"\n\nMorgaine found the question an offense, but did not say so. With a careful smile, she said, \"I am going to mass to see our kinsman Gareth knighted.\" As she hoped, it changed Balin's direction.\n\n\"Gawaine's little brother. Balan and I knew him less well than the others,\" he said. \"It is hard to think of him as a man-in my mind he is always the little lad who frightened the horses at Arthur's wedding, and came near to having Galahad killed.\" Morgaine recalled that was Lancelet's real name-no doubt the pious Balin was too proud to use any other. Balin bowed to her and went on into the church; Morgaine, following with Gwenhwyfar, watched him, frowning. There was the light of fanaticism about his face, and she was just as well pleased that Viviane was not here, although both the Lady's sons were here-Lancelet and Balan-and they could certainly prevent any real trouble." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The church had been decorated with flowers, and the people too, in their brilliant holiday dress, looked like massed flowers. Gareth had been dressed in a white linen robe, and Lancelet, in crimson, knelt beside him, beautiful and grave, Morgaine thought, the fair and the dark, the white and the crimson-and then another comparison occurred to her: Gareth happy and innocent, joyous at this initiation, and Lancelet sorrowful and tormented. Yet as he knelt, listening to the priest reading the Pentecost story, he looked calm and altogether unlike the tortured man who had poured out his soul to her.\n\n\"... and when the day of Pentecost was done, they were all gathered together in one place; and suddenly out of the sky came the sound of a violent wind, which filled the whole house where they were staying. And there appeared tongues as of fire, which divided and sat on them, one to each. And they all were filled with the Holy Breath, and they began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them to utter. Now there were living in Jerusalem Jews of the strict observance, from every race under the sky; and when this sound happened, the whole multitude came together and were confused, because everyone of them heard these men speaking in his own language. And they were as men driven out of their minds, saying to one another, \"Look! Are all these preachers not Galileans? And how are we hearing them, each one of us, in our own native languages? Parthians and Medes and Elamites and men out of Mesopotamia, both Judea and Cappadocia, Asia, both Phrygia and Pamphylia, and visitors from Rome, Jews and Cretans and Arabs; but we all hear them talking in our own languages.\" And they were all astounded, asking one another, \"What does this mean?\" But others said, mockingly, \"These men have drunk too much of sweet new wine, so early in the day.\" Then Peter the Apostle raised his voice and said to them, \"Men of Judea, and all of you, listen to my words; these men are not drunk as you imagine, since it is only the third hour; but it is as the prophet Joel has written; God says, in the last days of the world, I will send out my Spirit into all flesh, and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions and your old men shall dream dreams.\"\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine, kneeling quietly in her place, thought, Why, it was the Sight that came upon them and they did not understand it. Nor had they cared to understand; to them it only proved that their God was greater than other Gods. Now the priest was talking of the last days of the world, how God would pour out his gifts of vision and prophecy, but she wondered if any of these Christians knew how commonplace all these gifts were, after all? Anyone could master these powers when he had demonstrated that he could use them suitably. But that did not include trying to astonish the common people with silly miracles! The Druids used their powers to do good privately, not to collect crowds!\n\nWhen the faithful approached the rail for their shared bread and wine in commemoration, Morgaine shook her head and stepped back, though Gwenhwyfar tried to draw her forward; she was not a Christian and she would not pretend.\n\nAfterward, outside the church, she watched the ceremony where Lancelet drew his sword and touched Gareth with it, his strong and musical voice clear and solemn. \"Arise now, Gareth, Companion of Arthur, and brother now to all of us here, and to every knight of this company. Forget not to defend your king, and to live at peace with all knights of Arthur and all peaceful people everywhere, but remember always to make war against evil and to defend those who are in need of protection.\"\n\nMorgaine recalled Arthur receiving Excalibur at the hands of the Lady. She glanced at him and wondered if he remembered too, and if this was why he had instituted this solemn pledge and ceremonial, so that the young men made knights in his company might have some such rite to remember. Perhaps this was not, after all, a mockery of the holy Mysteries, but an attempt to preserve them as best he could... but why must it take place in the church? Would a day come when he would refuse it to any who were not pledged Christian? During the service, Gareth and his cousin and sponsor Lancelet had been first to receive holy communion, even before the King. Was this not putting this order of knighthood into the church as a Christian rite, one of their sacraments? Lancelet had no right to do this; he was not himself qualified to confer the Mysteries on any other. Was this a profanation or an honest attempt to bring the Mysteries into the hearts and souls of all the court? Morgaine did not know." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After the service, there was an interval before the games. Morgaine greeted Gareth and gave him her gift, a fine dyed-leather belt on which he could carry sword and dagger. He bent down to kiss her.\n\n\"Ah, you have grown, little one-I doubt if your mother would know you!\"\n\n\"It happens to all of us, dear cousin,\" Gareth said, smiling. \"I doubt you would know your own son!\" Then he was surrounded by the other knights, jostling and crowding to welcome and congratulate him; Arthur clasped his hands and spoke to him in away that made Gareth's fair skin glow.\n\nMorgaine saw that Gwenhwyfar was watching her sharply. \"Morgaine-what was it Gareth said-your son?\"\n\nMorgaine said sharply, \"If I have never told you, sister-in-law, it is because I respected your religion. I bore a son to the Goddess, from the Beltane rites. He is being fostered at Lot's court; I have not seen him since he was weaned. Are you content, or will you spread my secret everywhere?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Gwenhwyfar, turning pale. \"What sorrow for you, to be parted from your babe! I am sorry, Morgaine; and I will not tell even Arthur-he is Christian too and he would be shocked.\"\n\nYou do not know how shocked he would be, Morgaine thought grimly. Her heart was pounding. Could Gwenhwyfar be trusted with her secret? There were too many now who knew it!\n\nThe trumpet had been blown for the beginning of the games; Arthur had agreed not to take the lists, for no one wanted to attack his king, but one side of the mock battle was to be led by Lancelet as the King's champion and the other fell by lotto Uriens of North Wales, a hearty man well past middle age, but still strong and muscular. At his side was his second son, Accolon. Morgaine noted that as Accolon drew on his gloves his wrists were revealed; around them coiled blue tattooed serpents. He was an initiate of Dragon Island!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwenhwyfar had been jesting, no doubt, about marrying her to old Uriens. But Accolon-there was a proper man; perhaps, except for Lancelet, the handsomest young man on the field. Morgaine found herself admiring his skill at arms. Agile and well built, he moved with the natural ease of a man to whom such exercises come readily and who has been handling weapons since boyhood. Sooner or later, Arthur would wish to give her in marriage; if he should offer her to Accolon, would she say no?\n\nAfter a time her attention began to wander. Most of the other women had long since lost interest and were gossiping about feats of prowess they had heard of; some were playing at dice in their sheltered seats; a few were watching with animation, having wagered ribbons or pins or small coins on their husbands or brothers or sweethearts.\n\n\"It is hardly worth wagering,\" said one discontentedly, \"for we all know that Lancelet will win the day-he always does.\"\n\n\"Are you saying he does so unfairly?\" Elaine asked with a flare of resentment, and the strange woman said, \"By no means. But he should, at these games, stay on the sidelines, since no one can stand against him.\"\n\nMorgaine laughed. \"I have seen young Gareth there, Gawaine's brother, throw him ass-over-head in the dirt,\" she said, \"and he took that in good part, too. But if you want sport, I will wager you a crimson silk ribbon that Accolon wins a prize, even over Lancelet.\"\n\n\"Done,\" said the woman, and Morgaine rose in her seat. She said, \"I have no taste for watching men batter each other for sport-there has been enough of fighting that I am weary even of the sound of it.\" She nodded to Gwenhwyfar. \"Sister, may I go back to the hall and see that all is in order for the feasting?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwenhwyfar nodded permission, and Morgaine slid down at the back of the seats and made her way toward the main courtyard. The great gates were open and guarded only by a few who had no wish to attend the mock battles. Morgaine started toward the castle and never knew what intuition it was that sent her back toward the gates, or why she stood watching a pair of approaching riders who were arriving late for the first festivities. But as they came nearer, her skin began to prickle with foreboding, and then she began to run, as they rode through the gates, and now she was weeping. \"Viviane,\" she cried out, and then stopped, afraid to throw herself into her kinswoman's arms; instead she knelt on the dusty ground and bent her head.\n\nThe soft, familiar voice, unchanged, just as she had heard it in dreams, said gently, \"Morgaine, my darling child, it is you! How I have longed to meet with you all these years. Come, come, darling, you need not ever kneel tome.\"\n\nMorgaine raised her face, but she was trembling too hard to rise. Viviane, her face shrouded in grey veils, was bending over her; she putout a hand, and Morgaine kissed it, and then Viviane pulled her close into an embrace. \"Darling, it has been so long-\" she said, and Morgaine struggled helplessly not to cry.\n\n\"I have been so troubled about you,\" Viviane said, holding tight to Morgaine's hand as they walked toward the entrance. \"From time to time I would see you, a little, in the pool-but I am old, I can use the Sight but seldom. Yet I knew you lived, you were not dead in childbirth, nor far over the seas... I longed to look on your face, little one.\" Her voice was as tender as if there had never been any quarrel between them, and Morgaine was flooded by the old affection." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"All the people of the court are at the games. Morgause's youngest son was made knight and Companion this morning,\" she said. \"I think I must have known that you were coming-\" and then she recalled the moment of the Sight, last night; indeed, she had known. \"Why have you come here, Mother?\"\n\n\"I thought you had heard how Arthur betrayed Avalon,\" Viviane said. \"Kevin has spoken to him in my name, but without avail. So I have come to stand here before his throne and demand justice. In Arthur's name the lesser kings are forbidding the old worship, sacred groves have been despoiled, even on the land where Arthur's queen rules by inheritance, and Arthur has done nothing-\"\n\n\"Gwenhwyfar is overpious,\" Morgaine murmured, and felt her lip cruel in disdain; so pious, yet taking her husband's cousin and champion to her bed, with the sanction of that too-pious King! But a priestess of Avalon did not babble the secrets of the bedchamber if they came into her keeping. It seemed that Viviane read her thoughts, for she said, \"Nay, Morgaine, but a time might come when some secret knowledge might give me a weapon to force Arthur to his sworn duty. One hold, indeed, I have over him, though for your sake, child, I would not use it before his court. Tell me-\" She glanced around. \"No, not here. Take me where we may talk together in secret, and let me refresh myself and make myself seemly to stand before Arthur at his great feast.\"\n\nMorgaine took her to the room she shared with Gwenhwyfar's ladies, who were all at the games; the servants were gone too, so she herself fetched Viviane water for washing, and wine to drink, and helped her to change her dusty, travel-worn clothing." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "In your capacity as the author's assistant, extend the narrative.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 8" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"All the people of the court are at the games. Morgause's youngest son was made knight and Companion this morning,\" she said. \"I think I must have known that you were coming-\" and then she recalled the moment of the Sight, last night; indeed, she had known. \"Why have you come here, Mother?\"\n\n\"I thought you had heard how Arthur betrayed Avalon,\" Viviane said. \"Kevin has spoken to him in my name, but without avail. So I have come to stand here before his throne and demand justice. In Arthur's name the lesser kings are forbidding the old worship, sacred groves have been despoiled, even on the land where Arthur's queen rules by inheritance, and Arthur has done nothing-\"\n\n\"Gwenhwyfar is overpious,\" Morgaine murmured, and felt her lip cruel in disdain; so pious, yet taking her husband's cousin and champion to her bed, with the sanction of that too-pious King! But a priestess of Avalon did not babble the secrets of the bedchamber if they came into her keeping. It seemed that Viviane read her thoughts, for she said, \"Nay, Morgaine, but a time might come when some secret knowledge might give me a weapon to force Arthur to his sworn duty. One hold, indeed, I have over him, though for your sake, child, I would not use it before his court. Tell me-\" She glanced around. \"No, not here. Take me where we may talk together in secret, and let me refresh myself and make myself seemly to stand before Arthur at his great feast.\"\n\nMorgaine took her to the room she shared with Gwenhwyfar's ladies, who were all at the games; the servants were gone too, so she herself fetched Viviane water for washing, and wine to drink, and helped her to change her dusty, travel-worn clothing." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I met with your son in Lothian,\" Viviane said. \"Kevin told me.\" The old pain clutched at her heart-so Viviane had gotten what she wanted of her, after all: a son of the doubled royal lines, for Avalon. \"Will you make him a Druid, then, for Avalon?\"\n\n\"It is too soon to know what stuff he has in him,\" said Viviane. \"Too long, I fear, was he left in Morgause's keeping. But whether or no, he must be reared in Avalon, and loyal to the old Gods, so that if Arthur is false to his oath, we may remind him that there is a son of the Pendragon's blood to take his place-we will have no king turned apostate and tyrant, forcing that god of slaves and sin and shame down the throats of our people! We set him on Uther's throne, we can bring him down if we must, and all the more readily if there is one of the old royal line of Avalon, a son of the Goddess, to take his place. Arthur is a good king, I would be reluctant to make such threats; but if I must, I will-the Goddess orders my actions.\" Morgaine shuddered; would her child be the instrument of his father's death? She turned her face resolutely from the Sight. \"I do not think Arthur will be this false to Avalon.\"\n\n\"The Goddess grant he may not,\" Viviane said, \"but even so, the Christians would not accept a son gotten in that rite. We must keep a place near the throne for Gwydion, so that he maybe his father's heir, and one day we will have a king born of Avalon again. The Christians, mark you, Morgaine, would think your son born out of sin; but before the Goddess he is of the purest royalty of all, mother and father born of her lineage-sacred, not evil. And he must come to think himself so, not be contaminated by priests who would tell him his begetting and birth were shameful.\" She looked Morgaine straight in the eye. \"You still think it shameful?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine lowered her head. \"Always you could read my heart, kinswoman.\"\n\n\"Igraine's is the fault,\" said Viviane, \"and mine, that I left you at Uther's court seven years. The day I knew you priestess-born, I should have had you from there. You are priestess of Avalon, darling child, why came you never back?\" She turned, the comb in her hand, her long faded hair falling along her face.\n\nMorgaine whispered, tears forcing themselves through the barrier of her tight eyes, \"I cannot. I cannot, Viviane. I tried-I could not find the way.\" And all the humiliation and shame of that washed over her, and she wept.\n\nViviane put down the comb and caught Morgaine to her breast, holding her, rocking and soothing her like a child. \"Darling, my own darling girl, do not cry, do not cry... if I had known, child, I would have come to you. Don't cry now-I shall myself take you back, we will go together when I have given Arthur my message. I will take you with me and go, before he gets it into his head to marry you off to some braying Christian ass... yes, yes, child, you shall comeback to Avalon... we will go together....\" She wiped Morgaine's wet face on her own veil. \"Come, now, help me to dress myself to stand before my kinsman the High King-\"\n\nMorgaine drew a deep breath. \"Yes, let me braid your hair, Mother.\" She tried to laugh. \"This morning I did the Queen's hair.\"\n\nViviane held her away and said, in great anger, \"Has Arthur put you, priestess of Avalon and princess in your own right, to waiting hand and foot on his queen?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No, no,\" said Morgaine quickly, \"I am honored as high as the Queen herself-I dressed Gwenhwyfar's hair this day out of friendship; she is as likely to do mine, or to lace my gown, as sisters do.\"\n\nViviane sighed with relief. \"I would not have you dishonored. You are the mother of Arthur's son. He must learn to honor you as such, and so must the daughter of Leodegranz-\"\n\n\"No!\" Morgaine cried. \"No, I beg of you-Arthur must not know, not before the whole court-listen tome, Mother,\" she pleaded, \"all these folk are Christian. Would you have me shamed before them all?\"\n\nViviane said implacably, \"They must learn not to think shame of holy things!\"\n\n\"But the Christians have power overall this land,\" Morgaine said, \"and you cannot change their thinking with a few words-\" And in her heart she wondered, had advancing age driven Viviane out of her wits? There was noway simply to proclaim that the old laws of Avalon should beset up again and two hundred years of Christianity be overthrown. The priests would drive her out of the court as a madwoman and goon as before. Viviane must know enough of practical ruling to know this! And indeed, Viviane nodded and said, \"You are right, we must work slowly. But Arthur at least must be reminded of his promise to protect Avalon, and I will speak to him in secret, one day, about the child. We cannot proclaim it aloud among the ignorant.\"\n\nThen Morgaine helped Viviane to arrange her hair and to dress herself in the stately robes of a priestess of Avalon, dressed for high ceremonial. And it was not long before they heard sounds telling them that the mock games were over. No doubt the prizes would be given indoors this time, at the feast; she wondered if Lancelet had won them all again in honor of his king. Or, she thought sourly, his queen? And could one call that honor?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They turned to leave the chamber, and as they left the room, Viviane touched her hand gently. \"You will return to Avalon with me, will you not, dear child?\"\n\n\"If Arthur will let me go...\"\n\n\"Morgaine, you area priestess of Avalon, and you need not ask leave, even of the High King, to come and go as it pleases you. A High King is a leader in battle-he does not own the lives of his subjects, or even of his subject kings, as if he were one of those Eastern tyrants who thinks the world is his and the life of every man and woman in it. I will tell him I have need of you in Avalon and we will see what he answers to that.\"\n\nMorgaine felt herself choking with unshed tears. Oh, to return to Avalon, to go home... but even as she held Viviane's hand she could not believe she was truly to go thereafter this day. Later she was to say, I knew, I knew, and recognize the despair and foreboding that struck her at the words, but at the moment she was certain it was only her own fear, the sense that she was not worthy of what she had castaway.\n\nThen they went down into Arthur's great hall for the Pentecost feasting.\n\nIt was Camelot, Morgaine thought, as she had never seen it before, and perhaps would never see it again. The great Round Table, Leodegranz's wedding gift, was now set in a hall worthy of its majesty; the halls had been hung with silks and banners, and a trick of the arrangement made it so that all eyes were drawn to where Arthur sat, at the high seat at the far end of the hall. For this day he had brought Gareth to sit beside him and his queen, and all the knights and Companions were ringed together, the Companions in fine clothing, their weapons gleaming, the ladies garbed brightly as flowers. One after another, the petty kings came, knelt before Arthur and brought him gifts; Morgaine watched Arthur's face, grave, solemn, gentle. She looked sidewise at Viviane-surely she must see that Arthur had grown into a good king, not one to be lightly judged, even by Avalon or the Druids. But who was she to weigh causes between Arthur and Avalon? She felt the old tremor of disquiet, as in the old days at Avalon when she was being taught to open her mind to the Sight that would use her as its instrument, and found herself wishing, without understanding why, Would that Viviane were a hundred leagues from here!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She looked around the Companions-Gawaine, sandy and bulldog-strong, smiling at his newly knighted brother; Gareth, shining somehow like new-minted gold. Lancelet looked dark and beautiful, and as if his thoughts were somewhere at the other end of the world. Pellinore, greying and gentle, his daughter, Elaine, waiting on him.\n\nAnd now one came to Arthur's throne who was not one of the Companions. Morgaine had not seen him before, but she saw that Gwenhwyfar recognized him and shrank away.\n\n\"I am the only living son of King Leodegranz,\" he said, \"and brother to your queen, Arthur. I demand that you recognize my claim to the Summer Country.\"\n\nArthur said mildly, \"You do not make demands in this court, Meleagrant. I will consider your request and take counsel of my queen, and it maybe that I will consent to name you her regent. But I cannot deliver you judgment now.\"\n\n\"Then it maybe I shall not wait for your judgment!\" shouted Meleagrant. He was a big man, who had come to the feast wearing not only sword and dagger, but a great bronze battle-axe; he was dressed in ill-tanned furs and skins, and looked savage and grim as any Saxon bandit. His two men-at-arms looked even more ruffianly than he did himself. \"I am the only surviving son of Leodegranz.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar leaned forward and whispered to Arthur. The King said, \"My lady tells me that her father always denied he had begotten you. Rest assured, we shall have this matter looked into, and if your claim is good we will allow it. For the moment, sir Meleagrant, I ask you to trust to my justice, and join me in feasting. We will take this up with our councillors and do you such justice as we can.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Feasting be damned!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "said Meleagrant angrily. \"I came not hereto eat comfits and look at ladies and watch grown men making sport like boys! I tell you, Arthur, I am king of that country, and if you dare dispute my claim it will be the worse for you-and for your lady!\"\n\nHe laid his hand on the hilt of his great battle-axe, but Cai and Gareth were immediately there, pinioning his arms behind him.\n\n\"No steel's to be drawn indie King's hall,\" said Cai roughly, while Gareth twisted the axe out of his hand and set it at the foot of Arthur's chair. \"Go to your seat, man, and eat your meat. We'll have order at the Round Table, and when our king has said he'll do you justice, you'll wait on his good pleasure!\"\n\nThey spun him roughly round, but Meleagrant struggled free of their hands and said, \"To hell with your feast and to hell with your justice, then! And to hell with your Round Table and all your Companions!\" He left the axe and turned his back, stamping down all the length of the hall. Cai took a step after him, and Gawaine half rose, but Arthur motioned him to sit down again.\n\n\"Let him go,\" he said. \"We will deal with him at the proper time. Lancelet, as my lady's champion, it may well fall to you to deal with that usurping churl.\"\n\n\"It will be my pleasure, my king,\" said Lancelet, starting up as if he had been half asleep, but Morgaine suspected he had not the slightest idea what he had agreed to. The heralds at the door were still proclaiming that all men should draw near for the King's justice; there was a brief, comical interlude, when a farmer came in and told how he and his neighbor had quarreled over a small windmill on the borders of their property." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And we couldn't agree, sir,\" he said, twisting his rough woolen hat between his hands, \"so him and me, we made it out that the King had made all this country safe to have a windmill in, and so I said I'd come here, sir, and see what you say and we'd listen to it.\"\n\nAmid good-natured laughter, the matter was settled; but Morgaine noticed that Arthur alone did not laugh, but listened seriously, gave judgment, and when the man had thanked him and gone away, with many bows and thanks, only then did he let his face break into a smile. \"Cai, see that they give the fellow something to eat in the kitchens before he goes home, he had along walk here.\" He sighed. \"Who is next to ask justice? God grant it be something fitter my solving-will they come next to ask my advice in horse breeding, or something of that sort?\"\n\n\"It shows what they think of their king, Arthur,\" said Taliesin. \"But you should make it known that they should go to their local lord, and see that your subjects are also responsible for justice in your name.\" He raised his head to seethe next petitioner. \"But this maybe more worthy of the King's attention after all, for it is a woman, and, I doubt not, in some trouble.\"\n\nArthur motioned her forward: a young woman, self-assured, haughty, reared to courtly ways. She had no attendant except fora small and ugly dwarf, no taller than three feet, but with broad shoulders and well muscled, carrying a short and powerful axe.\n\nShe bowed to the King and told her story. She served a lady who had been left, as had so many others after the years of war, alone in the world; her estate was northward, near to the old Roman wall which stretched mile after mile, with ruined forts and mile-castles, mostly now decrepit and falling down. But a gang of five brothers, ruffians all, had refortified five of the castles and were laying the whole countryside to waste. And now one of them, who had a fancy to call himself the Red Knight of Red Lands, was laying siege to her lady; and his brothers were worse than he was." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Red Knight, hah!\" said Gawaine. \"I know that gentleman. I fought with him when I came southward from my last visit to Lot's country, and I barely got away with my life. Arthur, it might be well to send an army to clean out those fellows-there's no law in that part of the world.\"\n\nArthur frowned and nodded, but young Gareth rose from his seat.\n\n\"My lord Arthur, that is on the fringes of my father's country. You promised me a quest-keep the promise, my king, and send me to help this lady defend her countryside against these evil fellows!\"\n\nThe young woman looked at Gareth, his shining beardless face and the white silk robe he had put on for his knighting, and she broke into laughter. \"You? Why, you're a child. I didn't know the great High King was taking overgrown children to serve at his table!\" Gareth blushed like a child. He had indeed handed Arthur's cup to the King-it was a service young well-born boys, fostered at court, all performed at high feasts. Gareth had not yet remembered it was no longer his duty, and Arthur, who liked the boy, had not reproved him.\n\nThe woman drew herself up. \"My lord and king, I came to ask for one or more of your great knights with a reputation in battle which would daunt this Red Knight-Gawaine, or Lancelet, or Balin, one of those who is known as a great fighter against the Saxons. Are you going to let your very kitchen boys mock me, sire?\"\n\nArthur said, \"My Companion Gareth is no kitchen boy, madam. He is brother to sir Gawaine, and he promises to be as good a knight as his brother, or better. I did indeed promise him the first quest that I could honorably give him, and I will send him with you. Gareth,\" he said gently, \"I charge you to ride with this lady, to guard her against the dangers of the road, and when you come to her country, to help her lady to organize her country in defense against these villains. If you need help, you may send me a messenger, but no doubt she has fighting men enough-they need only someone with knowledge and skill at strategy, and this you have learned from Cai and Gawaine. Madam, I give you a good man to help you.\" She did not quite dare to answer the King, but she scowled at Gareth fiercely. He said formally, \"Thank you, my lord Arthur. I will put the fear of God into these rascals who are troubling the countryside there.\" He bowed to Arthur and turned to the lady, but she had turned her back and stormed out of the hall." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lancelet said in a low voice, \"He is young for all that, sir. Shouldn't you send Balan, or Balin, or someone more experienced?\"\n\nArthur shook his head. \"I truly think Gareth can do it, and I prefer that no one of my Companions is favored over another-it should be enough for the lady to know that one of them is coming to help her people.\"\n\nArthur leaned back and signalled to Cai to serve his plate. \"Giving justice is hungry work. Are there no more petitioners?\"\n\n\"There is one, my lord Arthur,\" said Viviane quietly, and rose from her place among the Queen's ladies. Morgaine began to rise and attend her, but Viviane gestured her back. She looked taller than she was, because she held herself so straight. And part of it was glamour, the glamour of Avalon... her hair, all white, was braided high on her head; at her side hung the little sickle-shaped knife, the knife of a priestess, and on her brow blazed the mark of the Goddess, the shining crescent moon.\n\nArthur looked at her fora moment, in surprise, then recognized her and gestured her to come forward.\n\n\"Lady of Avalon, it is long since you honored this court with your presence. Come sit beside me, kinswoman, and tell me how I may best serve you.\"\n\n\"By showing honor to Avalon, as you are sworn to do,\" said Viviane. Her voice was very clear and low, but, the trained voice of a priestess, it could be heard to the farthest comers of the hall. \"My king, Ibid you look now on that sword you bear, and think on those who laid it in your hand, and what you swore-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "In later years when all that had befallen that day was talked of far and wide, no two of the hundreds in that hall could agree on what had happened first." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine saw Balin rise in his place and rush forward, she saw a hand snatch up the great axe Meleagrant had left leaning against the throne, then there was a scuffle and a cry, and she heard her own scream as the great axe came whirling down. But she did not seethe blow, only Viviane's white hair suddenly red with blood as she crumpled and fell without even a cry.\n\nThen the hall was full of shouts and screams; Lancelet and Gawaine had Balin, struggling in their grasp; Morgaine had her own dagger in her hand and rushed forward, but Kevin gripped at her hard, his twisted fingers clutching at her wrist.\n\n\"Morgaine. Morgaine, no, it is too late-\" he said, and his voice was roughened with sobs. \"Ceridwen! Mother Goddess-! No, no, look not on her now, Morgaine-\"\n\nHe tried to turn her away, but Morgaine stood frozen, as if turned to stone, listening to Balin howling obscenities at the top of his voice.\n\nCai said abruptly, \"Look to the lord Taliesin!\" The old man had slithered down fainting in his seat. Cai bent and steadied him, then, murmuring a word of apology to Arthur, seized the King's own cup and poured the wine down the old man's throat. Kevin let Morgaine go and stumbled awkwardly to the side of the ancient Druid, bending over him. Morgaine thought, I should go to him, but it was as if her feet were frozen to the floor, she could not take a single step. She stared at the fainting old man so that she need not look back at that horrible red-stained pool on the floor, soaking through robes and hair and long cloak. In that last instant Viviane had seized her own small sickle knife. Her hand lay on it now, stained with her own blood-there was so much blood, so much. Her skull-her skull had been cloven in half, and there was blood, blood on the throne poured out like an animal for sacrifice, here at the foot of Arthur's throne...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Arthur finally found his voice." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You wretched man,\" he said hoarsely, \"what have you done? This is murder, cold murder before the very throne of your king....\"\n\n\"Murder, you say?\" Balin said in his thick, harsh voice. \"Yes, she was the most foul murderess in this kingdom, she deserved death twice over-I have rid your kingdom of a wicked and evil sorceress, my king!\"\n\nArthur looked more angry than grieved. \"The Lady of the Lake was my friend and my benefactor! How dare you speak so of my kinswoman, she who helped to set me on my throne?\"\n\n\"I call the lord Lancelet himself to witness if she did not compass the death of my mother,\" Balin said, \"a good and pious Christian woman, Priscilla by name, and foster-mother to your own brother Balan! And she murdered my mother, I tell you she murdered her by her evil sorceries-\" His face worked; the big man was weeping like a child. \"She murdered my mother, I tell you, and I have avenged her as a knight should do!\"\n\nLancelet closed his eyes in horror, his face contorted, but he did not weep. \"My lord Arthur, this man's life belongs tome! Let me here take vengeance for my mother-\"\n\n\"And my mother's sister,\" said Gawaine.\n\n\"And mine-\" Gaheris added.\n\nMorgaine's frozen trance broke. She cried, \"No, Arthur! Let me have him! He has murdered the Lady before your throne, let a woman of Avalon avenge the blood of Avalon-look yonder how the lord Taliesin lies stricken, it is like that he has murdered our grandsire too-\"\n\n\"Sister, sister-\" Arthur held out his hand to Morgaine. \"No, no, sister-no, give me your dagger-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine stood shaking her head, her dagger still in her hand. Taliesin suddenly rose to take it from her with his own trembling old fingers. \"No, Morgaine. No more bloodshed here-the Goddess knows, it is enough-her blood has been spilled as sacrifice to Avalon in this hall-\"\n\n\"Sacrificed! Yes, sacrificed to God, as God shall strike down all these evil sorceresses and their Gods!\" cried Balin in a frenzy. \"Let me have that one too, my lord Arthur, purge this court of all their evil wizard line-\" He struggled so violently that Lancelet and Gawaine could hardly hold him and signalled to Cai, who came and helped them cast Balin down, struggling still, before the throne.\n\n\"Quiet!\" Lancelet said, jerking his head around. \"I warn you, one hand laid on the Merlin or Morgaine, and I'll have your head whatever Arthur may say-yes, my lord Arthur, and die at your hands for it afterward if you will have it so!\" His face was drawn with anguish and despair.\n\n\"My lord King,\" Balin howled, \"I beg you, let me strike down all these wizards and sorcerers in the name of the Christ who hates them all-\"\n\nLancelet struck Balin heavily across the mouth; the man gasped and was silent, blood streaming from a broken lip.\n\n\"By your leave, my lord.\" Lancelet unfastened his rich cloak and gently covered the ghastly, drained corpse of his mother.\n\nArthur seemed to breathe easier now that the corpse was out of sight. Only Morgaine went on staring wide-eyed at the lifeless huddle now covered with the crimson cloak Lancelet had worn for the holiday." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Blood. Blood on the foot of the King's throne. Blood, poured out on the hearth... Somewhere it seemed to Morgaine that she could hear Raven shrieking.\n\nArthur said quietly, \"Look to the lady Morgaine, she will faint,\" and Morgaine felt hands gently helping her into a seat and someone holding a cup to her lips. She started to push it away, and then it seemed she heard Viviane's voice saying, Drink it. A priestess must keep her strength and will. Obediently she drank, hearing Arthur's voice, stern and solemn.\n\n\"Balin, whatever your reasons-no, no more, I heard what you said-not a word-you are either a madman, or a cold-blooded murderer. Whatever you may say, you have slain my kinswoman and drawn steel before your High King at Pentecost. Still, I will not have you murdered where you stand-Lancelet, put up your sword.\"\n\nLancelet slid his sword back into its scabbard. \"I will do your will, my lord. But if you do not punish this murder, then I beg leave to depart from your court.\"\n\n\"Oh, I will punish it.\" Arthur's face was grim. \"Balin, are you sane enough to listen tome? Then this is your doom: I banish you forever from this court. Let this lady's body be made ready and put on a horse bier, and I charge you to take it to Glastonbury, and tell all your tale to the Archbishop and do such penance as he shall lay on you. You spoke but now of God and Christ, but no Christian king allows private vengeance to betaken by the sword before his throne of justice. Do you hear what I say, Balin, once my knight and Companion?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Balin bent his head. His nose had been broken by Lancelet's blow; his mouth was streaming blood, and he spoke thickly through a broken tooth. \"I hear you, my lord King. I will go.\" He sat with his head bowed.\n\nArthur gestured to the servants. \"I beg you, bring someone to remove her poor body-\"\n\nMorgaine broke away from the hands that held her and knelt beside Viviane. \"My lord, I beg you, allow me to ready her for burial-\" and struggled to hold back the tears she dared not shed. This was not Viviane, this broken dead thing, the hand like a shrunken claw still clutching the sickle dagger of Avalon. She took up the dagger, kissed it, and slid it into her own belt. This, and only this, would she keep.\n\nGreat merciful Mother, I knew we could never go together to Avalon....\n\nShe would not weep. She felt Lancelet close beside her. He muttered, \"God's mercy Balan is not here-to lose mother and foster-brother in one moment of madness-but if Balan had been here it might not have happened! Is there any God or any mercy?\"\n\nHer heart ached for Lancelet's anguish. He had feared and hated his mother, but he had worshipped her, too, as the very face of the Goddess. Apart of her wanted to pull Lancelet into her arms, comfort him, let him weep; yet there was rage too. He had defied his mother, how dared he grieve for her now?\n\nTaliesin was kneeling beside them, and he said, in his broken old voice, \"Let me help you, children. It is my right-\" and they moved aside as he bowed his head to murmur an ancient prayer of passage." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arthur rose in his place. \"There will be no more feasting this day. We have had too much tragedy fora feast. Those of you who are hungry, finish your meal and go quietly.\" He came slowly down to where the body lay. His hand rested gently on Morgaine's shoulder; she felt it there, through her numb misery. She could hear the other guests quietly leaving the hall, one after another, and through the rustle she heard, softly, the sound of a harp; only one pair of hands in Britain played such a harp. And at last she melted and tears streamed from her eyes as Kevin's harp played the dirge for the Lady, and to that sound, Viviane, priestess of Avalon, was slowly borne from the great hall of Camelot. Morgaine, walking beside the bier, looked back only once at the great hall and the Round Table, and the solitary, bowed figure of Arthur, standing alone beside the harper. And through all her grief and despair, she thought, Viviane never gave to Arthur the message of Avalon. This is the hall of a Christian king, and now there is no one who will say otherwise. How Gwenhwyfar would rejoice if she knew.\n\nHis hands were outstretched; she did not know, perhaps he was praying. She saw the serpents tattooed about his wrists and thought of the young stag and the new-made king who had come to her with the blood of the King Stag on his hands and face, and fora moment it seemed to her that she could hear the mocking voice of the fairy queen. And then there was no sound but the anguished lamenting of Kevin's harp and Lancelet weeping at her side as they bore Viviane forth to rest.\n\nMORGAINE SPEAKS..." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I followed the body of Viviane from the great hall of the Round Table, weeping for only the second time that I could remember.\n\nAnd yet later that night I quarrelled with Kevin.\n\nWorking with the Queen's women, I prepared Viviane 3 body for burial. Gwenhwyfar sent her women, and she sent linen and spices and a velvet pall, but she did not come herself. That was just as well. A priestess of Avalon should be laid to rest by attendant priestesses. I longed for my sisters from the House of Maidens; but at least no Christian hands should touch her. When I was done, Kevin came to watch by the body.\n\n\"I have sent Taliesin to rest. I have that authority now, as the Merlin of Britain; he is very old and very feeble-it is a miracle that his heart did not fail this day. I fear he will not long outlive her. Balin is quiet now,\" he added. \"I think perhaps he knows what he did-but it is sure that it was done in a fit of madness. He is ready to ride with her body to Glastonbury, and serve such penance as the Archbishop shall decree.\"\n\nI stared at him in outrage. \"And you will have it so? That she shall fall into the hands of the church? I care not what happens to that murderer,\" I said, \"but Viviane must betaken to Avalon.\" I swallowed hard so that I would not weep again. We should have ridden together to Avalon....\n\n\"Arthur has decreed,\" said Kevin quietly, \"that she shall be buried before the church at Glastonbury, where all can see.\"\n\nI shook my head, unbelieving. Were all men mad this day? \"Viviane must lie in Avalon,\" I said, \"where all the priestesses of the Mother have been buried since time began. And she was Lady of the Lake!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"She was also Arthur's friend and benefactor,\" said Kevin, \"and he will have it that her tomb shall be made a place of pilgrimage.\" He putout his hand that I should not speak. \"No, hear me, Morgaine-there is reason in what he says. Never has there been so grave a crime in Arthur's reign. He cannot hideaway her burial place out of sight and out of mind. She must be buried where all men may know of the King's justice, and the justice of the church.\"\n\n\"And you will allow this!\"\n\n\"Morgaine, my dearest,\" he said gently, \"it is not for me to allow or to refuse. Arthur is the High King, and it is his will that is done in this realm.\"\n\n\"And Taliesin holds his peace? Or is this why you have sent him to his rest, so that he might be out of the way while you do this blasphemy with the King's connivance? Will you have Viviane buried with Christian burial and Christian rites, she who was Lady of the Lake-buried by these folk who imprison their God within stonewalls? Viviane chose me after her to be Lady of the Lake, and I forbid it, I forbid it, do you hear me?\"\n\nKevin said quietly, \"Morgaine. No, listen tome, my dear. Viviane died without naming her successor-\"\n\n\"You were there that day she said she had chosen me-\"\n\n\"But you were not in Avalon when she died, and you have renounced that place,\" Kevin said, and his words fell on my head like cold rain, so that I shivered. He stared at the bier and Viviane's body which lay covered there; nothing I could do could make that face fit to be seen in death. \"Viviane died with no successor named to her place, and so it falls tome, as the Merlin of Britain, to declare what will be done. And if this is Arthur's will, only the Lady of the Lake-and, forgive me, my dear, that I say it, but there is now no Lady in Avalon-could speak out against what I say. I can see that the King has reason for what he wishes. Viviane spent all her life to bring about a peaceful rule of law in this land....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"She came to reprove Arthur that he had forsaken Avalon!\" I cried in despair. \"She died with her mission unfinished, and now you would have it that she should lie in Christian ground within the sound of church bells, so that they should triumph over her in death as in life?\"\n\n\"Morgaine, Morgaine, my poor girl!\" Kevin held out his hands tome, the misshapen hands which had so often caressed me. \"I loved her too, believe me! But she is dead. She was a great woman, she spent her life for this land-do you think it matters to her where her empty shell shall lie? She has gone to whatever awaits her beyond death, and, knowing her, I know that it can only be good that awaits her. Do you think she would grudge it, that her body should lie where it can best serve those purposes she spent her life to accomplish-that the King's justice should triumph overall the evil in this land?\"\n\nHis rich, caressing, musical voice was so eloquent that I hesitated fora moment. Viviane was gone; it was only those same Christians who made much of consecrated or unconsecrated ground, as if all the earth which is the breast of the Mother was not holy. I wanted to fall into his arms and weep therefor the only mother I had ever known, for the wreck of my own hopes that I might return to Avalon at her side, weep for all I had castaway and the breaking of my own life....\n\nBut what he said then made me start away in horror.\n\n\"Viviane was old,\" he said, \"and she had dwelt in Avalon, sheltered from the real world. I have had to live, with Arthur, in the world where battles are won and real decisions made. Morgaine, my dearest, listen tome. It is too late to demand that Arthur keep his pledge to Avalon in that same form he gave it. Time passes, the sound of church bells covers this land, and the people are content to have it so. Who are we to say that this is not the will of the Gods that lie behind the Gods? Whether we wish it or no, my dearest love, this is a Christian land, and we who honor Viviane's memory will do her no good by making it known to all men that she came hitherto make impossible demands of the King.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Impossible demands?\" I wrenched my hands away. \"How dare you?\"\n\n\"Morgaine, listen to reason-\"\n\n\"Not reason but treason! If Taliesin heard this-\"\n\n\"I speak as I have heard Taliesin himself speak,\" he said gently. \"Viviane did not live in order to undo what she has done, to create a land at peace-whether it is called Christian or Druid does not matter; the will of the Goddess will be done overall, whatever name men may call her. Who are you to say that it was not the will of the Goddess that Viviane was struck down before she could spread strife again in a land that has come to peace and successful compromise? I tell you, it shall not be torn again by strife, and if Viviane had not been struck down by Balin, I would myself have spoken against what she asked--and I think Taliesin would have said as much.\"\n\n\"How dare you speak for Taliesin?\"\n\n\"Taliesin himself named me the Merlin of Britain,\" said Kevin, \"and he must therefore have trusted me to act for him when he could not speak for himself.\"\n\n\"Next you will say you have become a Christian! Why wear you not beads and a crucifix?\"\n\nHe said, in such a gentle voice that I could have wept, \"Do you truly think it would make such a great difference, Morgaine, if I did so?\"\n\nI knelt before him, as I had done a year ago, pressed his broken hand to my breast. \"Kevin, I have loved you. For that I beg you-be faithful now to Avalon and to Viviane's memory! Come with me now, tonight. Do not this travesty, but accompany me to Avalon, where the Lady of the Lake shall lie with the other priestesses of the Goddess....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He bent over me; I could feel the anguished tenderness in his misshapen hands. \"Morgaine, I cannot. My dearest, will you not becalm and listen to the voice of reason in what I am saying?\"\n\nI stood up, flinging off his weak grip, and raising my arms, summoned the power of the Goddess. I heard my voice thrumming with the power of a priestess. \"Kevin! In her name who came to you, in the name of the manhood she has given you, I lay obedience on you! Your allegiance is not to Arthur nor to Britain, but only to the Goddess and to your vows! Come now, leave this place! Come with me to Avalon, bearing her body!\"\n\nI could see in the shadows the very glow of the Goddess around me; fora moment Kevin knelt shuddering, and I know that in another moment he would have obeyed. And then, I know not what happened-perhaps it crossed my mind, No, I am not worthy, I have no right... I have forsaken Avalon, I cast it away, by what right then do I command the Merlin of Britain? The spell broke; Kevin made a harsh, abrupt gesture, awkwardly rising to his feet.\n\n\"Woman, you do not command me! You who have renounced Avalon, by what right do you presume to give orders to the Merlin? Rather should you kneel before me!\" He thrust me away with both hands. \"Tempt me no more!\"\n\nHe turned his back and limped away, the shadows making wavering misshapen movements on the wall as he moved from the room; I watched him go, too stricken even to weep.\n\nAnd four days later Viviane was buried, with all the rites of the church, on the Holy Isle in Glastonbury. But I did not go thither." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Never, I swore, should I step foot upon that Isle of the Priests.\n\nArthur mourned her sincerely, and built for her a great tomb and a cairn, swearing that one day he and Gwenhwyfar should lie thereat her side.\n\nAs for Balin, the Archbishop Patricius laid it upon him that he should make a pilgrimage to Rome and the Holy Lands; but before he could go into exile, Balan heard the tale from Lancelet and hunted him down, and the foster-brothers fought, one with another, and Balin was killed at once with a single stroke; but Balan took cold in his wounds and did not survive him a whole day. So Viviane-so they said when a song was made of it-was avenged; but what of that, when she lay in a Christian tomb?\n\nAnd I... I did not even know whom they had chosen as Lady of the Lake in her place, for I could not return to Avalon.\n\n... I was not worthy of Lancelet, I was not worthy even of Kevin... I could not tempt him to do his true duty to Avalon....\n\n... I should have gone to Taliesin and begged him, even on my knees, to take me back to Avalon, that I might atone for all my faults and return again to the shrine of the Goddess....\n\nBut before the summer was ended, Taliesin was gone too; I think he never knew for certain that Viviane was dead, because even after she was buried, he spoke as if she would come soon and return with him to Avalon; and he spoke of my mother, too, as if she lived and was a little girl in the House of Maidens. And at summer's end he died peacefully and was buried at Camelot, and even the bishop mourned him as a wise and learned man." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And in the winter after that, we heard that Meleagrant had set himself up to rule asking in the Summer Country. But when spring came, Arthur was away on a mission to the South, and Lancelet too had ridden out to see to the King's castle at Caerleon, when Meleagrant sent a messenger under a flag of truce, begging that his sister Gwenhwyfar should come and speak with him about the rule of that country over which they both had a claim.\n\n\"I would feel safer, and I think my lord the king would like it better, if Lancelet were hereto ride with you,\" Cai said soberly. \"At Pentecost yonder fellow would have drawn steel in this hall before his king, and he would not await the King's justice. Brother of yours or no, I like it not that you ride alone with only your lady and your chamberlain.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"He is not my brother,\" Gwenhwyfar said. \"His mother was the king's mistress fora time, but he put her away because he found her with another man. She claimed, and perhaps told her son, that Leodegranz was his father. The king never acknowledged it. If he were an honorable man, and such as my lord would trust, perhaps he could be regent for meas well as any other. But I will not allow him to profit by such a lie.\"\n\n\"Will you trust yourself then in his hands, Gwenhwyfar?\" asked Morgaine quietly.\n\nGwenhwyfar looked at Cai and Morgaine, shaking her head. Why did Morgaine look so calm and unafraid? Was Morgaine never afraid of anything, never touched by any emotion behind that cool, unreadable face? Rationally she knew that Morgaine, like all mortal flesh, must sometimes suffer from pain, fear, grief, anger-yet only twice had she actually seen emotion in Morgaine, and that long ago; once when Morgaine had fallen into trance and dreamed of blood on the hearth-then she had cried out in fear-and once when Viviane was slain here before her eyes and she had sunk down fainting.\n\nGwenhwyfar said, \"I trust him not at all, except to be the greedy impostor he is. But think, Morgaine. All his claim is based upon the fact that he is my brother. Should he offer me the slightest insult, or treat meas anything less than his honored sister, his claim is proved a lie. So he dares do nothing else than welcome meas his honored sister and queen, do you see?\"\n\nMorgaine shrugged. \"I would not trust him even so far as that.\"\n\n\"No doubt, like the Merlin, you have sorcery to give you knowledge of what may come if I do.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine said indifferently, \"It needs no sorcery to know that a villain is a villain, and no supernatural wisdom that bids me not let the nearest rogue hold my wallet for me.\"\n\nWhatever Morgaine said, Gwenhwyfar always felt compelled to do precisely other; always she felt that Morgaine thought her a fool without the wit to lace her own shoes. Did Morgaine think that she, Gwenhwyfar, could not settle a matter of state when Arthur was absent? Yet she had hardly been able to face Morgaine since that ill-starred Beltane a year ago when she had begged her sister-in-law fora charm against her barrenness. Morgaine had told her that charms often work as you would not have them work... now whenever she looked on Morgaine, she thought her sister-in-law must be remembering it, too.\n\nGod punishes me; perhaps for meddling with sorcery, perhaps for that wicked night. And as always when she allowed the faintest memory of that time to come into her mind, she felt her whole body flushing with mingled delight and shame. Ah, it was easy to say they had all three been drunken, or to excuse herself that what was done that night was done with Arthur's consent, indeed, at his urging. Still it was grievous sin, adultery.\n\nAnd since that night she had hungered for Lancelet, night and day; yet they had hardly been able to face each other. She could not look him in the eyes. Did he hate her as a shameful, adulterous woman? He must despise her. Yet she longed for him with terrible despair.\n\nAfter that Pentecost, Lancelet had hardly been at court. She had never thought he had cared so much for his mother, nor yet for his brother Balan, yet he had mourned them both deeply. He had been away from court all this time." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I wish,\" said Cai, \"that Lancelet were here. Who should accompany the Queen on a mission of this sort, except that knight Arthur has named as his queen's champion and protector?\"\n\n\"If Lancelet were here,\" said Morgaine, \"many of our troubles would be over, for he would settle Meleagrant with a few words. But there is no good talking of what cannot be. Gwenhwyfar, shall I ride with you and protect you?\"\n\n\"In God's name,\" said Gwenhwyfar, \"I am not a child who cannot stir forth without a nurse! I will take my chamberlain, sir Lucan, and I will take Bracca to dress my hair and lace my gown if I am therefor more than a night, and to sleep at the foot of my bed; what do I need more than that?\"\n\n\"Still, Gwenhwyfar, you must have an escort fitting your rank. There are still some of Arthur's Companions here at court.\"\n\n\"I will take Ectorius,\" said Gwenhwyfar. \"He is Arthur's foster-father, and nobly born, and a veteran of many of Arthur's wars.\"\n\nMorgaine shook her head impatiently. \"Old Ectorius, and Lucan who lost an arm at Mount Badon-why do you not take Cai and the Merlin with you as well, so that you may have all the old and the lame? You should have an escort of good fighting men who can protect you, Gwenhwyfar, in case it is in this man's mind to hold the Queen to ransom, or worse.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar repeated patiently, \"If he does not treat meas his sister, then his claim is worthless. And what man would offer any threat to his sister?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I do not know if Meleagrant is so good a Christian as all that,\" Morgaine said, \"but if you are not afraid of him, Gwenhwyfar, you know him better than I do. No doubt you can find an escort of old bumbling veterans to ride with you-so be it. You might offer towed him to your kinswoman Elaine, to make his claim of kinship even more valid, and set him as regent in your place-\"\n\nGwenhwyfar shuddered, remembering the great coarse man dressed in ill-tanned skins and furs. \"Elaine is a gently reared lady; I would not give her to such a one,\" she said. \"I will talk with him-if he seems tome an honest fighting man and such a one as will keep the peace in this kingdom, then if he will swear loyalty to my lord Arthur, he may reign upon the island-I like not all of Arthur's Companions either, but a man maybe an honest king without being a good one to sit with ladies and talk in hall.\"\n\n\"I marvel to hear you say so,\" said Morgaine. \"To hear you sing my kinsman Lancelet's praises, I thought you believed no man could be a good knight unless he were handsome and full of this kind of courtly matters.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar would not quarrel again with Morgaine. \"Come, sister, I love Gawaine well, yet he is a rough Northman who trips over his own feet and has hardly a word to say to any woman. For all I know, Meleagrant too maybe such a jewel in the wrappings of a knucklebone, and that is why I go thither-to judge for myself.\"\n\nSo the next morning Gwenhwyfar set forth, with her escort of six knights, Ectorius, the veteran Lucan, her waiting-woman, and a nine-year-old pageboy. She had not visited her childhood home since that day she left it with Igraine, to be married to Arthur. It was not far: a few leagues down the hill, and to the shores of the lake, which at this season was drying up into boggy marshes, with cattle grazing in the summer fields and lush grasses filled with buttercup and dandelion and primrose. At the shore two boats were waiting, hung with her father's banners. This was arrogance, that Meleagrant should bear these unpermitted, but after all, it was possible that the man genuinely believed himself Leodegranz's heir. It might even be true; perhaps her father had lied about it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "She had landed at these very shores, bound for Caerleon, so many years ago..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "how young she had been, and how innocent! Lancelet had been at her side, but fate had given her to Arthur-God knows, she had tried to be a good wife to him, though God had denied her children. And then despair washed over her again as she looked at the waiting boats. She might give her husband three or five or seven sons, and a year might come of plague, or smallpox, or the throat fever, and all her sons would begone... such things had happened. Her own mother had borne four sons, yet none of them had lived to be as much as five years old, and Alienor's son had died with her. Morgaine... Morgaine had borne a son to their evil God of witches, and for all she knew, that son lived and thrived, while she, a faithful Christian wife, could not bear any child, and now she might soon be too old.\n\nMeleagrant himself was at the landing, bowing, welcoming her as his honored sister, gesturing her toward his own boat, the smaller of the two. Gwenhwyfar never knew even afterward how it had happened that she was separated from all of her escort except for the little page. \"My lady's servants may go in the other boat, I myself will be your escort here,\" said Meleagrant, taking her arm with an overfamiliarity she did not like; but after all, she must bear herself with diplomacy and not anger him. At the last moment, with a momentary sense of panic, she gestured to sir Ec-torius.\n\n\"I will have my chamberlain with me, as well,\" she insisted, and Meleagrant smiled, his great coarse face reddening.\n\n\"As my sister and queen desires,\" he said, and let Ectorius and Lucan step onto the smaller boat with her. He fussed about spreading a rug for her to sit on, and the oarsmen pulled out into the lake. It was shallow, grown heavily with weeds; in some seasons it was dry here. And suddenly, as Meleagrant seated himself beside her, Gwenhwyfar was seized with an attack of the old terror; her stomach heaved, and fora moment she thought she would vomit. She clung to the seat with both hands. Meleagrant was too near her; she moved as faraway as the dimensions of the seat would allow. She would have felt more comfortable if Ectorius had been near; his presence was serene and fatherly. She noted the great axe Meleagrant wore through his belt-it was like the one he had left near the throne, the one Balin had seized to murder Viviane.... Meleagrant said, leaning so close that his heavy breath sickened her, \"Is my sister faint? Surely the motion of the boat does not trouble you, it is so calm-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She edged away from him, struggling for self-control. She was alone here except for two old men, and she was out in the middle of the lake, with nothing around her but weed and water and the reedy horizon... why had she come? Why was she not in her own walled garden at home, in Camelot? There was no safety here, she was out under the wide-open sky, so that she felt sick and naked and exposed....\n\n\"We will be onshore soon,\" Meleagrant said, \"and if you wish to rest before we conduct our business, sister, I have had the queen's apartments prepared for you-\"\n\nThe boat scraped onshore. The old path was still there, she noted, the narrow winding way up to the castle, and the old wall, where she had sat that afternoon watching Lancelet run among the horses. She felt confused, as if it might have been only the day before and she was that shy young girl. She reached out surreptitiously and touched the wall, feeling it firm and solid, and stepped through the gate with relief.\n\nThe old hall seemed smaller than when she had lived there; she had grown used to great spaces in Caerleon and later at Camelot. Her father's old high seat was spread with skins like those Meleagrant wore, and a great black bearskin lay at the foot of the seat. The whole looked uncared-for, the skins ragged and greasy, the hall unswept, with a sour, sweaty smell; she wrinkled her nose, but it was so much a relief to be within walls that she did not care. She wondered where her escort had gone.\n\n\"Will you rest and refresh yourself, sister? Shall I show you to your apartments?\"\n\nShe smiled and said, \"I shall hardly be here long enough to call them mine, though it is true I would like to wash the dust off my hands and takeoff my cloak. Will you send someone to find my serving-woman? You should have a wife if you are to think of being regent here, Meleagrant.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There is time enough for that,\" he said, \"but I will show you to the apartments I have prepared for my queen.\" He led the way up the old stairs. They were also ill-kept and neglected; Gwenhwyfar, frowning, thoughtless well of choosing him as regent. If he had moved into the castle and restored it, had installed a wife and good servants to keep it well, with fresh hangings and good cleaning, and smart men-at-arms, well-but his soldiers looked more villainous than he did himself, and she had not yet seen any woman about the place. A faint qualm was beginning to steal over her; maybe she had not been too wise to come here alone, not to insist on her escort accompanying her every step of the way-\n\nShe turned on the stairs and said, \"I will have my chamberlain accompany me, if you please, and I want my woman sent for at once!\"\n\n\"As my lady wishes.\" He grinned. His teeth seemed very long, yellow and stained. She thought, He is like a wild beast... and edged against the wall in terror. Yet it was from some inner reserve of strength she drew to say firmly, \"Now, please. Call sir Ectorius, or I will go right down into the hall again until my serving-woman is here. It is not seemly for Arthur's queen to go alone with a strange man-\"\n\n\"Not even with her brother?\" asked Meleagrant, but Gwenhwyfar, ducking beneath his outstretched arm, saw that Ectorius had come into the hall after her and called, \"Foster-father! Accompany me, if you will! And send sir Lucan to find my servant!\"\n\nThe old man came slowly up the stairs after them, passing Meleagrant, and Gwenhwyfar putout her arm to lean on him. Meleagrant looked but ill pleased at this. They came to the head of the stairs, to the chamber where Alienor had once dwelt; Gwenhwyfar had been in a little room behind hers. Meleagrant opened the door. It smelled stale and dank inside, and Gwenhwyfar hesitated. Perhaps she should insist ongoing at once downstairs and to business; she could hardly refresh herself or rest well in a room as dirty and neglected as this-" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Not you, old man,\" said Meleagrant, turning suddenly and pushing Ectorius down the stairs hard. \"My lady does not need your service now.\" Ectorius stumbled, off balance, and at that moment Meleagrant pushed her into the room and slammed the door hard behind her. She heard the bar thrown down and stumbled to her knees; by the time she got up she was alone in the room, and no amount of hammering on the door brought any sound at all.\n\nSo Morgaine's warning had been right. Had they murdered her escort? Had they killed Ectorius and Lucan? The room where Alienor had borne her children and lived and later died was cold and dank; there were only some old rags of linen sheets across the great bed, and the straw smelled foul. Alinor's old carved chest was there, but the woodcarving was greasy and smeared with dirt, and it was empty. The hearth was clogged with ash as if there had been no fresh fire lighted therefor years. Gwenhwyfar beat on the door and shouted until her hands and her throat were sore; she was hungry and exhausted, and sickened by the smell and the dirt of this place. But she could not budge the door, and the window was too small to climb out-and there was a twelve-foot drop outside. She was imprisoned. Through the window she could see only a neglected barnyard with a single mouldy-looking cow wandering and bellowing at intervals.\n\nThe hours dragged by. Gwenhwyfar had to accept two things, that she could not get out of the room by her own efforts, and that she could not attract the attention of any person who would be likely to come and let her out. Her escort was gone-dead or imprisoned, in any case unable to come to her aid. Her waiting-woman and page were probably dead, certainly well out of reach. She was here, and alone, at the mercy of a man who would probably use her as a hostage to exact some kind of concession from Arthur." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Her own person was probably safe from him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As she had pointed out to Morgaine, all his claim rested on the fact that he was the only surviving son of her father; bastard, but still of the royal blood. However, when she thought of his rapacious grin and huge presence, she was terrified; he might easily abuse her or try to force her to acknowledge him as regent of this country.\n\nThe day dragged on; the sun moved slowly from the small crack of window, across the room, and away again, and at last it began to grow dark. Gwenhwyfar went through into the little chamber behind Alienor's that had been her own when she was a child; once her mother had dwelt in Alienor's chamber. The dark confined space, no more than a closet, felt comfortingly secure; who could hurt her inhere? No matter that it was dirty and stale, the bedstraw mildewed; she crept into the bed and wrapped herself in her cloak. Then she went back into the outer room and tried to shove Alienor's heavy carved chest against the door. She had discovered that she was very much afraid of Meleagrant, and even more afraid of his ruffianly men-at-arms.\n\nCertainly he would not let them hurt her-the only bargaining power he had washer safety. Arthur would kill him, she told herself, Arthur would kill him if he offered her the slightest insult or harm.\n\nBut, she asked herself in her misery, would Arthur really care? Although he had been kind and loving to her all these years and treated her with all honor, still he might not be sorry to be quit of a wife who could not bear him a child-a wife who was, furthermore, in love with another man and could not conceal it from him.\n\nIf I were Arthur I would make no move against Meleagrant; I would tell him that now he had me, he might keep me, for all the good it would do him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "What did Meleagrant want? If she, Gwenhwyfar, were dead, there would be no one else with the shadow of a claim on the Summer Country's throne; there were some young nephews and nieces by her sisters, but they dwelt faraway and probably did not know or care about this land. Perhaps he simply meant to murder her or leave her hereto starve. The night dragged on. Once she heard some men and horses moving about in the barnyard below; she went to the small window and peered out, but she saw only a dim torch or two, and although she yelled and shouted through her sore throat, no one raised his eyes or took the slightest notice.\n\nOnce, far into the night, when she had fallen into a brief, nightmare-ridden doze, she started up, thinking she heard Morgaine calling her name; she sat bolt upright on the dirty straw of the bed, staring into the thick darkness, but she was alone.\n\nMorgaine, Morgaine. If you can see me with your sorcery, say to my lord when he comes home that Meleagrant is false, that it was a trap... and then she wondered, would God be angry with her for calling on Morgaine's sorcery to deliver her? And she fell to praying softly until the monotony of her prayers put her to sleep again.\n\nShe slept heavily, this time, without dreams, and when she woke, her mouth dry, she realized it was full day and she was still prisoner in the empty and filthy apartment. She was hungry and thirsty, and sickened with the smell of the place, not only the stale straw and mould, but the smells from one corner she had had to use as a latrine. How long were they going to leave her here alone. The morning wore away and Gwenhwyfar no longer even had the strength or courage to pray." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Was she being punished, then, for her guilt, for not valuing enough what she had had? She had been a faithful wife to Arthur, yet she had hungered after another man. She had meddled with Morgaine's sorcery. But, she thought in despair, if I am being punished for my adultery with Lancelet, for what was I being punished while I was yet a faithful wife to Arthur?\n\nEven if Morgaine could see, with her magic, that she was imprisoned, would she trouble to help her? Morgaine had no reason to love her; indeed, Morgaine almost certainly despised her.\n\nWas there anyone who really cared? Why should anyone care what happened to her?\n\nIt was past noon when at last she heard a step on the stairs. She sprang to her feet, wrapping herself tightly in her cloak, and backed away from the door. It was Meleagrant who came in, and at sight of him she drew back even farther.\n\n\"Why have you done this tome?\" she demanded. \"Where is my woman, my page, my chamberlain? What have you done with my escort? Do you think Arthur will allow you to rule this country when you have offered insult to his queen?\"\n\n\"His queen no longer,\" Meleagrant said quietly. \"When I am done with you, he will not have you back. In the old days, lady, the consort of the queen was king of the land, and if I hold you and get sons on you, no man will gainsay my right to rule.\"\n\n\"You will get no sons from me,\" Gwenhwyfar said with a mirthless laugh. \"I am barren.\"\n\n\"Pah-you were married to a damned beardless boy,\" he said, and added something more, which Gwenhwyfar did not completely understand, only that it was unimaginably foul." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Arthur will kill you,\" she said.\n\n\"Let him try. It is harder than you would think to attack an island,\" said Meleagrant, \"and by that time, perhaps, he will not care to try, since he would have to take you back-\"\n\nShe said, \"I cannot marry you, I have a husband.\"\n\n\"No man in my kingdom will care one way or the other,\" said Meleagrant. \" There were many who chafed at the rule of the priests, and I have cast forth every damned priest of them! I rule by the old laws, and I will make myself king by that law, which says your man rules here-'\n\nShe whispered, \"No,\" and backed away, but he sprang at her and pulled her toward him.\n\n\"You're not to my taste,\" he said brutally. \"Skinny, ugly, pale wenches-I like better a woman who's some flesh to her bones! But you're old Leodegranz's daughter, unless your mother had more blood to her than I think she could have had! And so-\" He pulled her to him. She struggled, got her arm loose, and struck him hard across the face.\n\nHe shouted as her elbow struck his nose, grabbed her arm and shook her, hard; then hither with his clenched fist across the jaw. She felt something snap and tasted blood bursting in her mouth. He hither again and again with his fists; she put her arms up, terrified, toward off his blows, but he went on beating her. \"Now,\" he yelled, \"there'll be no more of that, you'll find out who's your master-\" He seized her wrist and wrenched at it.\n\n\"Oh, no-no-please, please, don't hurt me-Arthur, Arthur will kill you-\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Proceed with the plot as the storytelling partner.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 9" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She watched them as they shared cup and plate at breakfast. Lancelet was fond of Elaine, she thought-fond as he might be of a friendly little dog. He would not be unkind to her when they were married.\n\nViviane had been just as ruthless as this, she had not scrupled to send a brother to the bed of his own sister.... Morgaine worried the memory painfully, like a sore tooth. This too is for the good of the kingdom, she thought, and as she went to hunt out her herbs and medicines, to steep them in wine for the potion she would give Lancelet, she tried to form a prayer to the Goddess who joined man and women in love, or in simple lust like the rutting of beasts.\n\nGoddess, I know enough of lust... she thought, and steadied her hands, breaking the herbs and dropping them into the wine. I have felt his desire, though he would not give me what I would have had from him....\n\nShe sat watching the slow simmering of the herbs in the wine; small bubbles rose, lazily broke, and spat bittersweet essences which fumed around her. The world seemed very small and faraway, her brazier but a child's toy, each bubble that rose in the wine large enough that she could have floated away inside it... her whole body aching with a desire she knew would never be slaked. She could sense that she was moving into the state where powerful magic could be made....\n\nIt seemed she was both within and without the castle, that apart of her was out on the hills, following the Pendragon banner which Lancelet sometimes carried... twisting, a great red dragon... but there were no dragons, not this kind of dragon, and Pellinore's dragon, it was surely only a jest, a dream, as unreal as the banner which flew somewhere, far to the southward, over the walls of Camelot, a dragon invented by some artist for the banner, like the designs Elaine drew for her tapestry. And Lancelet surely knew this. Following the dragon, he was but enjoying a pleasant ride over the summer hills, following a dream and a fantasy, leaving him leisure for daydreaming of Gwenhwyfar's arms.... Morgaine looked down at the bubbling liquid in her little brazier, drop by drop added a little more wine to the mixture, that it would not boil away. He would dream of Gwenhwyfar, and that night there would be a woman in his arms, wearing Gwenhwyfar's perfume. But first Morgaine would give him this potion which would put him at the mercy of the rut in him, so that he would not stop when he found he held not an experienced woman and his paramour, but a shrinking virgin.... Fora moment Morgaine stopped to pity Elaine, because what she was cold-bloodedly arranging was certainly something like rape. Much as Elaine longed for Lancelet, she was a virgin and had no real idea of the difference between her romantic dreams of his kisses, and what really awaited her-being taken by a man too drugged to know the difference. Whatever it was for Elaine, and however bravely she endured it, it would hardly be a romantic episode." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I gave up my maidenhood to the King Stag... yet that was different. From childhood I had known what awaited me, and I had been taught and reared in the worship of that Goddess who brings man and woman together in love or in rut.... Elaine was reared a Christian and taught to think of that very life force as the original sin for which mankind was doomed to death....\n\nFora moment she thought she should seek out Elaine, try to prepare her, encourage her to think of this as the priestesses were taught to think of it: a great force of nature, clean and sinless, to be welcomed as a current of life, sweeping the participant into the torrent... but Elaine would think that even worse sin. Well, then, she must make of it what she would; perhaps her love for Lancelet would carry her through it undamaged.\n\nMorgaine turned her thoughts back to simmering the herbs and the wine, and at the same time, somehow, it seemed she was riding on the hills... neither was it a fair day fora ride; the sky was dark and clouded, a little wind blowing, the hills bleak and bare. Below the hills the long arm of the sea which was the lake looked grey and fathomless, like fresh-smithied metal; and the surface of the lake began to boil a little, or was it but the water in her brazier? Dark bubbles rose and spilled afoul stench, and then, slowly, rising from the lake, along, narrow neck crowned with a horse's head and a horse's mane, along sinuous body, writhing toward the shore... rising, crawling, slithering its whole length onto the shore.\n\nLancelet's hounds were running about, darting down to the water, barking frenziedly. She heard him call out to them in exasperation; stop dead and look down toward the water, paralyzed, only half believing what he saw with his eyes, Then Pellinore blew his hunting horn to summon the others, and Lancelot put spurs to his horse, his spear braced on the saddle, and rode at a breakneck speed down the hill, charging. One of the hounds gave a pitiful scream; then silence, and Morgaine, from her strange distant watch, saw the curiously slimed trail where half the dog's broken body lay eaten away with the dark slime." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Pellinore was charging at it, and she heard Lancelot's shout to warn him back from riding directly at the great beast... it was black and like a great worm, all but that mockery of a horse's head and mane. Lancelot rode at it, avoiding the weaving head, thrusting his long spear directly into the body. A wild howl shook the shore, a crazed banshee scream... she saw the great head weaving wildly back and forth, back and forth... Lancelot flung himself from his rearing, bucking horse, and ran on foot toward the monster. The head weaved down, and Morgaine flinched, as she saw the great mouth open. Then Lancelot's sword pierced the eye of the dragon, and there was a great gush of blood and some black foul stuff... and it was all the bubbles rising from the wine....\n\nMorgaine's heart jumped wildly. She lay back and sipped a little of the undiluted wine in the flask. Had it been an evil dream, or had she actually seen Lancelot kill the dragon in which she had never really believed? She rested therefor sometime, telling herself that she had dreamed, and then forced herself to rise, to add some sweet fennel to the mixture, for the strong sweetness would conceal the other herbs. And there should be strong salted beef for dinner, so that everyone should thirst and drink a great deal of the wine, especially Lancelot. Pellinore was a pious man-what would he think if all his castle folk went to rutting? No, she should make sure that only Lancelot drank the spiced mixture, and perhaps, in mercy, she should give some to Elaine too....\n\nShe poured the spiced wine into a flask and put it aside. Then she heard a cry, and Elaine rushed into her room." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh, Morgaine, come at once, we need your work with simples-Father and Lancelot have slain the dragon, but they are both burned....\"\n\n\"Burned? What nonsense is this? Do you believe truly that dragons fly and belch fire?\"\n\n\"No, no,\" Elaine said impatiently, \"but the creature spat some slime at them and it burns like fire-you must come and dress their wounds....\"\n\nDisbelieving, Morgaine glanced at the sky outside. The sun was hovering, a bare hand span above the western horizon; she had sat here most of the day. She went quickly, calling to the maids for bandage linen.\n\nPellinore had a great burn along one arm-yes, it looked very much like a burn; the fabric of his tunic was eaten away by it, and he roared with anguish as she poured healing salve on it. Lancelot's side was burned slightly, and on one leg the stuff had eaten through his boots, leaving the leather only a thin jellylike substance covering his leg. He said, \"I should clean my sword well. If it can do that to the leather of a boot, think what it would have done to my leg...\" and shuddered.\n\n\"So much for all those who thought my dragon only a fantasy,\" said Pellinore, raising his head and sipping the wine his daughter gave him. \"And thanks be to God that I had the wit to bathe my arm in the lake, or the slime would have eaten my arm as it dissolved my poor dog-did you seethe corpse, Lancelet?\"\n\n\"The dog? Yes,\" said Lancelet, \"and hope never to see that kind of death again.... But you can confound them all when you hang the dragon's head over your gate-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I cannot,\" said Pellinore, crossing himself. \"There was no proper bone to it at all, it was all soft like a grub or an earthworm... and it has already withered away to slime. I tried to cut the head and the very air seemed to eat away at it.... I do not think it was a proper beast at all, but something straight from hell!\"\n\n\"Still it is dead,\" Elaine said, \"and you have done what the King bade you, made an end once and for all of my father's dragon.\" She kissed her father, saying with tender apology, \"Forgive me, sir, I thought, too, that your dragon was all fancy-\"\n\n\"Would to God it had been,\" Pellinore said, crossing himself yet again. \"I would rather be a mockery from hereto Camelot than face any such thing again! I wish I thought there were no more such beasts... Gawaine has told tales of what lives in the lochs yonder.\" He signaled to the potboy for more wine. \"I think it would be well to get drunk this night, or I shall see that beast in nightmares for the next month!\"\n\nWould that be best? Morgaine wondered. No, if all about the castle were drunk, it would not fit her plans at all. She said, \"You must listen to what I say, if I am to care for your wounds, sir Pellinore. You must drink no more, and you must let Elaine take you to bed with hot bricks at your feet. You have lost some blood, and you must have hot soup and possets, but no more wine.\"\n\nHe grumbled but he listened to her, and when Elaine had taken him away, with his body servants, Morgaine was left alone with Lancelet." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So,\" she said, \"how would you best celebrate your killing of your first dragon?\"\n\nHe lifted his cup and said, \"By praying that it will be my last. I truly thought my hour had come. I would rather face a whole horde of Saxons with no more than my axe!\"\n\n\"The Goddess grant you have no more such encounters, indeed,\" Morgaine said, and filled his cup with the spiced wine. \"I have made this for you, it is medicinal and will soothe your hurts. I must go and see that Elaine has Pellinore safely tucked away for the night-\"\n\n\"But you will comeback, kinswoman?\" he said, holding her lightly by one wrist; she saw the wine beginning to burn in him. And more than the wine, she thought; an encounter with death sends a man ready for rutting....\n\n\"I will comeback, I promise; now let me go,\" she said, and bitterness flooded her.\n\nSo, am I fallen so low that I would have him drugged, not knowing? Elaine will have him that way... why is it better for her? But she wants him for husband, for better or worse. Not I. I am a priestess, and I know this thing that burns in me is not of the Goddess, but unholy... am I so weak that I would have Gwenhwyfar's castoff garments and her castoff paramour also? And while her scorn cried no, the weakness through her whole body cried yes, so that she was sick with self-contempt as she went along the hall to the chamber of King Pellinore.\n\n\"How does your father, Elaine?\" She wondered that her voice was so steady.\n\n\"He is quiet now, and I think he will sleep.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Morgaine nodded." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Now you must go to the pavilion, and sometime this night Lancelet will come to you. Forget not the scent Gwenhwyfar wears....\"\n\nElaine was very pale, her blue eyes burning. Morgaine reached out and caught her by the arm; she held out a flask with some of the drugged wine in it. She said, and her own voice was shaking, \"Drink this first, child.\" Elaine raised it to her lips and drank. \"It is sweet with herbs... is it a love potion?\"\n\nMorgaine's smile only stretched her mouth. \"You may think it so, if you will.\"\n\n\"Strange, it burns my mouth, and burns me within.... Morgaine, it is not poison? You do not-you do not hate me, Morgaine, because I will be Lancelet's wife?\"\n\nMorgaine drew the girl close and embraced and kissed her; the warm body in her arms somehow roused her, whether to desire or tenderness she could not tell. \"Hate you? No, no, cousin, I swear it to you, I would not have sir Lancelet for husband if he begged me on his knees... here, finish the wine, sweeting... scent your body here, and here... remember what he wants of you. It is you who can make him forget the Queen. Now go, child, wait for him in the pavilion there....\" And again she drew Elaine close to her and kissed her. \"The Goddess blesses you.\"\n\nSo like to Gwenhwyfar. Lancelet is already half in love with her, I think, and I but complete the work....\n\nShe drew along, shaking breath, composing herself to return to the hall and to Lancelot. He had not hesitated to pour himself more of the drugged wine, and raised fuddled eyes as she came in." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Ah, Morgaine-kinswoman-\" He drew her down beside him. \"Drink with me...\"\n\n\"No, not now. Listen tome, Lancelet, I bear a message for you....\"\n\n\"A message, Morgaine?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" she said. \"Queen Gwenhwyfar has come hitherto visit her kinswoman, and she sleeps in the pavilion beyond the lawns.\" She took his wrist and drew him along to the door. \"And she has sent you a message: she does not wish to disturb her women, so you must go to her very quietly where she is in bed. Will you do that?\"\n\nShe could seethe haze of drunkenness and passion in his dark eyes. \"I saw no messenger-Morgaine, I did not know you wished me well....\"\n\n\"You do not know how well I wish you, cousin.\"\n\nI wish that you may marry well and cease this hopeless, wretched love fora woman who can only bring you to dishonor and despair....\n\n\"Go,\" she said gently, \"your queen awaits you. If you doubt me, this token was sent you.\" She held out a kerchief; it was Elaine's, but one kerchief is like to another, and it had been all but drenched in the scent associated with Gwenhwyfar.\n\nHe pressed it to his lips. \"Gwenhwyfar,\" he whispered. \"Where, Morgaine, where?\"\n\n\"In the pavilion. Finish the wine-\"\n\n\"Will you drink tome?\"\n\n\"Later,\" she said with a smile. His steps faltered a little; he caught at her for support, and his arms went round her. His touch roused her, light as it was. Lust, she told herself fiercely, animal rut, this is nothing blessed by the Goddess.... She struggled for calm. He was drugged like an animal, he would not care, he would take her now mindlessly, as he would have taken Gwenhwyfar, Elaine.... \"Go, Lancelet, you must not keep your queen waiting.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "She saw him disappear in the shadows near the pavilion." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He would go in quietly. Elaine would belying there, the lamp falling on her golden hair so like the Queen's, but so dim he could not distinguish her features, her body and bed smelling of Gwenhwyfar's scent. She tormented herself by imagining, as she turned to pace the long empty room, how his slender naked body would slide under the covers, how he would take Elaine in his arms and cover her with kisses. If the little fool has but the wit to keep her mouth shut and say nothing till he is done....\n\nGoddess! Shut away the Sight from me, let me not see Elaine in his arms... writhing, racked, Morgaine did not know whether it washer own imagination or the Sight that tortured her with the awareness of Lancelet's naked body, of the touch of his hands... how clearly she felt them in memory.... She went back into the hall where the servants were clearing the tables and said roughly, \"Give me some wine.\"\n\nStartled, the man poured her a cup. Now they will think me a sot as well as a witch. She did not care. She drank down the wine and asked for more. Somehow it cutaway the Sight, freed her from her awareness of Elaine, frightened and ecstatic, pinned down under his rough, demanding body....\n\nRestlessly, like a prowling cat, she paced the hall, flickers of the Sight coming and going. When she judged the time was ripe, she drew along breath, steeling herself for what she knew she must do now. The body servant who slept across the king's door started awake as Morgaine bent to rouse him.\n\n\"Madam, you cannot disturb the king at this hour-\" \"It concerns his daughter's honor.\" Morgaine took a torch from the wall bracket and held it aloft; she could sense how she looked to him, tall and terrible, feeling herself merge into the commanding form of the Goddess. He drew aside in terror, and she moved smoothly past." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Pellinore lay in his high bed, tossing restlessly in pain from his bandaged wound. He, too, started awake, looking up at Morgaine's paleface, the torch held high.\n\n\"You must come quickly, my lord,\" she said, her voice smooth and taut with her own controlled passion. \"This is betrayal of hospitality... I felt it right that you must know. Elaine-\" \"Elaine? What-\"\n\n\"She is not asleep in our bed,\" Morgaine said. \"Come quickly, my lord.\" She had been wise not to let him drink; she could not have roused him had he slept heavily with wine. Pellinore, startled, incredulous, threw on a garment, shouting for his daughter's women. It seemed to Morgaine that they followed her down the stairs and out the doors as smoothly as the writhing of a dragon, a procession with herself and Pellinore at the serpent's head, and she thrust back the silken flap of the pavilion, holding the torch high and watching with cruel triumph as Pellinore's outraged face was lighted by the torch. Elaine lay with her arms wound around Lancelet's neck, smiling and blissful; Lancelet, coming awake in the torchlight, stared around in shock and awareness, and his face was agonized with betrayal. But he did not say a word.\n\nPellinore shouted, \"Now you will make amends, you lecherous wretch, you who have betrayed my daughter-\"\n\nLancelet buried his face in his hands. He said through them, strangled, \"I will-make amends-my lord Pellinore.\" Then he raised his face and looked straight into Morgaine's eyes. She met them, unflinching; but it was like a sword through her body. Before this, at least, he had loved her as a kinswoman." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Well, better that he should hate her." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She would try to hate him, too. But before Elaine's face, shamed and yet smiling, she wanted to cry instead, and beg for them to pardon her.\n\nMORGAINE SPEAKS...\n\nLancelet was married to Elaine on Transfiguration; I remember little of the ceremony save Elaine's face, joyous and smiling. By the time Pellinore had arranged the wedding, she knew already that she bore Lancelet's son in her belly, and although he looked wretched, thin and pallid with despair, he was tender with Elaine, and proud of her swelling body. I remember Gwenhwyfar too, her face drawn with long weeping, and the look of ineradicable hatred that she turned on me.\n\n\"Can you swear that this was not your doing, Morgaine?\"\n\nI looked her straight in the eye.\n\n\"Do you begrudge your kinswoman a husband of her own, as you have one?\"\n\nShe could not face meat that. And again I told myself, fiercely: Had she and Lancelet been honest with Arthur, had they fled from the court together, to live beyond Arthur's kingdom, so that Arthur could have taken him another wife to get an heir for the kingdom, then I would not have meddled.\n\nBut from that day, Gwenhwyfar hated me; and that I regretted most, for in a strange way I had loved her. Gwenhwyfar never seemed to hate her kinswoman; she sent Elaine a rich gift and a silver cup when her son was born, and when Elaine had the boy christened Galahad, for his father, she named herself his godmother and swore that he should be heir to the kingdom if she did not give Arthur a son. Sometime that year she indeed announced she was pregnant, but nothing came of it, and I think, indeed, it was only her desire fora child, and her fancy." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The marriage was no worse than most. That year Arthur had to face war on the northern coast, and Lancelet spent little time at home. Like many husbands, he spent his time at war, coming home two or three times a year to see to their lands-Pellinore had given them a castle near his own-to receive the new cloaks and shirts Elaine wove and embroidered for him-after he married Elaine, Lancelet always dressed as fine as the King himself-to kiss his son, and later his daughters, to sleep with his wife once, or maybe twice, and then he was off again.\n\nElaine always seemed happy. I do not know whether she was truly happy, being one of those women who can find their best happiness in home and babes, or whether she longed for more than this and yet abode bravely by the bargain she had made.\n\nAs for me, I dwelt at court for two more years. And then, at Pentecost of the second year, when Elaine was pregnant with her second child, Gwenhwyfar had her revenge.\n\nAs with every year, the day of Pentecost was Arthur's high festival. Gwenhwyfar had been awake since earliest daylight. On this day, all of those Companions who had fought at Arthur's side should beat court, and this year Lancelet would be here too...\n\n... last year he had not come. Word had been sent that he was in Less Britain, answering a call from his father, King Ban, who sought to settle trouble in his kingdom; but Gwenhwyfar knew in her heart why Lancelet had not come, why he had chosen to stay apart.\n\nIt was not that she could not forgive his marriage to Elaine. Morgaine and her spite had brought that about-Morgaine, who would have had Lancelet for herself and would stop at nothing to part him from the one he truly loved. Rather than see him in Gwenhwyfar's arms, Gwenhwyfar supposed, Morgaine would have seen him in hell, or in his grave." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Arthur, too, missed Lancelet sorely, that she had seen." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Although he satin his high seat at Camelot, and dealt justice to all manner of men-he was loved, loved far more than any king Gwenhwyfar had heard tell of before this-she could see that always he looked back to the days of battle and conquest; she supposed all men were like that. Arthur would bear to his grave the scars of the wounds he had taken in his great battles. When they had fought year after year to bring peace to the land, he had spoken as if he wished for nothing more than leisure to sit at home in Camelot and enjoy his castle. Now he was never so happy as when he could get some of his old Companions about him, and fall to talking of those old evil days when there were Saxons and Jutes and wild Northmen on every hand.\n\nShe looked at Arthur where he lay sleeping. Yes, and he was still the handsomest and goodliest of all his old Companions; at times she thought he was fairer of face and better to look at even than Lancelet, though it was unfair to compare them, one so dark, one so blond. And after all they were cousins, they were of one blood... how, she wondered, had Morgaine come into that kindred? Perhaps indeed she was a changeling, nothing human at all, but left by the evil fairy folk to do wickedness among mankind... a sorceress schooled in un-Christian ways. Arthur too was tainted by that background, though she had gotten him to go often to mass and to speak of himself as Christian. Morgaine liked not that, either.\n\nWell, she would fight to the last to save Arthur's soul! She loved him well, he was the best husband a woman could ever have had, even had he been no High King but a simple knight. Surely the madness that had seized her was long gone. It was right and fitting she should think kindly of her husband's cousin. Why, it was at Arthur's own will that she had first lain in Lancelet's arms. And now it was all past and over, and she had confessed it and been absolved; her priest had told her it was as if the sin had never been, and now she must strive to forget it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Yet she could not help remembering, a little, on this morning when Lancelet would becoming to court with his wife and son..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "he was a married man, married to her own cousin. Now he was not only her husband's kinsman but her own kinsman as well. She could greet him with a kiss, and it would be no sin.\n\nArthur turned over, as if her thoughts could disturb him, and smiled at her.\n\n\"It is Pentecost day, sweetheart,\" he said, \"and all of our kinfolk and friends will be here. Let me see you smile.\"\n\nShe smiled at him and he drew her down against him, kissing her and letting his fingers circle her breasts.\n\n\"You are certain what we do this day will not offend you? I would not have anyone think you were less tome,\" he said anxiously. \"You are not old, God may yet bless us with children if it is his will. But the lesser kings have demanded it of me-life is never certain, so I must name an heir. When our first son is born, sweet, then it will be as if this day had never been, and I am sure young Galahad will not begrudge the throne to his cousin, but serve and honor him as Gawaine has done for me....\"\n\nIt might yet be true, Gwenhwyfar thought, surrendering herself to her husband's gentle caresses. There were such things told of in the Bible: the mother of John the Baptizer, who had been cousin to the Virgin-God had opened her womb long after she was past the age of bearing, and she, Gwenhwyfar, was not yet thirty... why, Lancelet had said once that his mother was older than this when he was born. Perhaps this time, after all these years, she would arise from her husband's bed bearing again the seed of his son in her body. And now that she had learned not only to submit to him as a good wife must, but to take pleasure in his touch, his manhood filling her, surely she was softened and all the more ready to conceive and bear...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "No doubt it was all for the best, when fora time three years ago she had thought she bore Lancelet's child, but something had gone amiss... three months she had not had her moon-blood and she had told one or two of her ladies that she was with child; and then, after three more months, when she should have felt the first quickening, it had proved to be nothing after all... but now, surely, with this new warmth she had known since she had been all wakened, this time it would come about as she wished. And Elaine would not gloat and triumph over her again.... She might, fora little time, have been the mother of the King's heir, but Gwenhwyfar would be the mother of the King's son....\n\nShe said something like that later, when they were dressing, and Arthur looked at her, troubled. \"Is Lancelet's wife unkind or scornful to you, Gwen? I had thought you and your cousin were good friends....\"\n\n\"Oh, we are,\" said Gwenhwyfar, blinking back tears, \"but it is always so with women... those women who have sons think ever they are the betters of any woman who is barren. The wife of the swineherd, in her childbed, no doubt thinks with scorn and pity of the Queen who cannot give her lord so much as a single son.\"\n\nArthur came and kissed the back of her neck. \"Don't, sweeting, don't cry. I would rather have you than another woman who could have given me a dozen sons already.\"\n\n\"Truly?\" Gwenhwyfar said, a hint of scorn in her voice. \"Yet I was only something my father gave you with a hundred horsemen, just apart of the bargain-and you took me dutifully to get the horses-but I was a bad bargain-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He raised his eyes and stared at her with a blue incredulous gaze. \"Have you been thinking of that and holding it against me all these years, my Gwen? But surely you must know that since the first moment that I looked on your face, no one could be dearer tome than you!\" he said and wound his arms around her. She was rigid, blinking back tears, and he kissed her at the corner of her eye. \"Gwenhwyfar, Gwenhwyfar, could you think-you are my wife, beloved, my own dear wife, and nothing on earth could part us. If I wanted only a broodmare to get mesons, God knows I could have had enough of them!\"\n\n\"But you have not,\" she said, still stiff and cold in his arms. \"I would willingly take your son to foster, and bring him up as your heir. But you thought me not worthy to foster your son... and it was you who pushed me into Lancelet's arms-\"\n\n\"Oh, my Gwen,\" he said, and his face was rueful like a punished child. \"Do you hold it against me, that old madness? I was drunk, and it seemed tome that you loved Lancelet well... I thought to give you pleasure, and if it might truly be so, that it was my fault you did not bear, then you could have a child by one so close tome that I could in good conscience call whatever child came of that night, my own heir. But mostly it was that I was drunk-\"\n\n\"At times,\" she said, her face set like stone, \"it has seemed tome that you loved Lancelet more than me. Can you say in truth that it was to give me pleasure, or was it for the pleasure of him you loved best of all-?\"\n\nHe dropped his arm from her neck as if he were stung. \"Is it a sin, then, to love my kinsman and think, too, of his pleasure? It is true, I love you both-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"In Holy Writ it speaks of that city that was destroyed for such sins,\" said Gwenhwyfar.\n\nArthur was as white as his shirt. \"I love my kinsman Lancelet with all honor, Gwen; King David himself wrote of his cousin and kinsman Jonathan, Thy love tome was wonderful, passing the love of woman, and God smote him not. It is so with comrades in battle. Dare you to say that such a love is a sin, Gwenhwyfar? I will avow it before the throne of God-\" He stopped, unable to force further sound through his dry throat.\n\nGwenhwyfar heard her own voice cracking with hysteria.\n\n\"Can you swear that when you brought him to our bed... I saw it then, you touched him with more love than ever you have given the woman my father forced on you-when you led me into this sin, can you swear it was not your own sin, and all your fine talk no more than a cover for that very sin that brought down fire from Heaven on the city of Sodom?\"\n\nHe stared at her, still deathly white. \"You are certainly mad, my lady. On that night you speak of-I was drunk, I know not what you may have thought you saw. It was Beltane, and the force of the Goddess was with us all. I think all your prayers and thoughts of sin have turned your mind, my Gwen.\"\n\n\"No Christian man would say so!\"\n\n\"And that is one reason why I like not to call myself a Christian!\" he shouted back at her, losing patience at last. \"I am tired of all this talk of sin! If I had put you away from me-aye, and I was counselled to do so, and would not because I loved you too well-and taken another woman-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No! Rather would you share me with Lancelet, and have him too-\"\n\n\"Say that again,\" he said very low, \"and wife or no, love or no, I will kill you, my Gwenhwyfar!\"\n\nBut she was sobbing hysterically now and could not stop herself. \"You say you wished fora son, and so you led me into such sin as God cannot pardon-if I have sinned, and God has punished me with barrenness, was it not you who led me into that sin? And even now, it is Lancelet's son is your heir. Can you daresay it is not Lancelet you love best, when you make his son your heir and not your own son, when you will not give me your son to foster for you-\"\n\n\"Let me call your women, Gwenhwyfar,\" he said, with a deep breath. \"You are beside yourself. I swear to you, I have no son, or if I do, it is some chance-gotten child from my days in battle, and the woman knew me not, nor who I was. No woman anywhere near my own station has ever come tome and said she bore my child. Priests or no, sin or no, I cannot believe any woman would be ashamed to admit that she had borne the son of a childless High King. I have taken no unwilling woman, nor played at adultery with any man's wife. What is this mad talk of a son of mine you would foster as my heir? I tell you, I have none. I have often wondered if some sickness in boyhood, or that wound I took, might have gelded me... I have no son.\"\n\n\"No, but that is a lie!\" Gwenhwyfar said angrily. \"Morgaine bade me not speak of it, but long ago I went to her, I begged her fora charm to help my barrenness. I was in despair, I said I would give myself to another man, since it was likely you could not father a son. And at that time Morgaine swore tome that you could father a child, that she had seen a son of yours, fostered at the court of Lot of Lothian, but she made me promise not to speak of it-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Fostered at the court of Lothian...\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "said Arthur, and then he caught at his chest, as if in dreadful pain there. \"Ah, merciful God!\" he said in a whisper, \"and I never knew....\"\n\nGwenhwyfar felt sudden terror striking through her. \"No, no, Arthur, Morgaine is a liar! No doubt it was but her malice, it was she who contrived Lancelet's marriage to Elaine, because she was jealous... no doubt she was lying to plague me....\"\n\nArthur said in a distant voice, \"Morgaine is a priestess of Avalon. She does not lie. I think, Gwenhwyfar, that we must ask of this. Send for Morgaine-\"\n\n\"No, no,\" Gwenhwyfar begged. \"I am sorry I spoke-I was beside myself and raving as you said-oh, my dear lord and husband, my king and my lord, I am sorry for every word I said! I beg you to forgive me-I beg you.\"\n\nHe put his arms around her. \"There is need for you to forgive me too, my dear lady. I see now I have done you great wrong. But when you have unloosed the winds, then must you abide by their blowing, whatever they may tear down....\" He kissed her very gently on the forehead. \"Send for Morgaine.\"\n\n\"Oh, my lord, oh, Arthur, I beg you-I promised to her that I would never speak of it to you-\"\n\n\"Well, then, you have broken your promise,\" Arthur said. \"I besought you not to speak, but you would have it so, and now what has been said cannot be unsaid.\" He stepped to the door of the chamber and called to his chamberlain, \"Go to the lady Morgaine and command that she attend me and my queen as quickly as she may.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When the man had gone, Arthur called Gwenhwyfar's servant, and Gwenhwyfar stood like a stone as the woman put on her holiday robe and braided her hair. She sipped at a cup of hot water and wine, but her throat was tight. She had spoken the unforgivable.\n\nBut if it is true that this morning he has given me his child to bear... and a strange pain struck inward through her body even into her womb. Could anything take root and grow in such bitterness?\n\nAfter a time Morgaine came into the room in a dark-red gown, her hair braided with crimson silk ribbons; she had dressed well for the festival and looked alive and glowing.\n\nAnd I am but a barren tree, Gwenhwyfar thought; Elaine has Lancelot's son; even Morgaine, who has no husband and no wish for one, has played the harlot and borne a son to somebody or other, and Arthur has fathered a son on some unknown woman, but I-I have none.\n\nMorgaine came and kissed her; Gwenhwyfar stood rigid within her arms. Then Morgaine turned to Arthur and said, \"You commanded me to come, my brother?\"\n\nArthur said, \"I am sorry to disturb you so early, sister. But, Gwenhwyfar,\" he said, \"now must you repeat in my presence and Morgaine's what you have said. I will have no secret slanders repeated within my court.\"\n\nMorgaine looked at Gwenhwyfar and saw the marks of tears around her reddened eyes. \"Dear brother,\" she said, \"your queen is ill. Is she pregnant again? As to whatever she has said, well, it's a true saying, hard words break no bones.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arthur looked coldly at Gwenhwyfar, and Morgaine drew back; this was not the brother she knew well, this was the stern face of the High King as he satin his hall to dispense justice.\n\n\"Gwenhwyfar,\" he said, \"not only as your husband, but as your king, I command you: Repeat before Morgaine's face what you have said behind her back, and what she told you, that I had a son in fosterage at the court of Lothian-\"\n\nIt is true, Gwenhwyfar thought in that split second. Never before, save when Viviane was murdered before her eyes, have I seen Morgaine's face other than calm, serene, the face of a priestess.... It is true, and somehow it touches her deeply... but why?\n\n\"Morgaine,\" Arthur said. \"Tell me-is this true? Have Ia son?\"\n\nWhat is it to Morgaine? Why should she wish it to be concealed, even from Arthur? She might wish her own harlotries to be hidden, but why should she conceal it from Arthur that he has a son? And then some inkling of the truth struck her, and she gasped aloud.\n\nMorgaine thought: A priestess of Avalon does not lie. But I am cast out of Avalon, and for this, and unless it is all to be for nothing, I must lie, and lie well and quickly....\n\n\"Who was it?\" demanded Gwenhwyfar angrily. \"One of the whore priestesses of Avalon who lies with men in sin and lustfulness at their demon festivals?\"\n\n\"You know nothing of Avalon,\" said Morgaine, fighting to keep her voice steady. \"Your words are like the wind, without meaning-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arthur took her by the arm. He said, \"Morgaine-my sister-\" and she thought that in another moment she would weep... as he had wept in her arms, that morning when first he knew how Viviane had trapped them both....\n\nHer mouth was dry and her eyes burned. She said, \"I spoke-of your son-only to comfort Gwenhwyfar, Arthur. She feared you could not give her a child-\"\n\n\"Would you had spoken so to comfort me,\" said Arthur, but his smile was only a grimace stretching his mouth. \"All these years have I thought I could beget no son, even to save my kingdom-Morgaine, now you must tell me the truth.\"\n\nMorgaine drew along breath. In the dead silence inside the room she could hear a dog barking somewhere beyond the windows, and some small insect chirping somewhere. At last she said, \"In the name of the Goddess, Arthur, since you will have it said at last-I bore a son to the King Stag, ten moons after your kingmaking on Dragon Island. Morgause has him in her keeping, and she swore tome that you should never hear it from her lips. Now you have had it from mine. Let it end here.\"\n\nArthur was white as death. He caught her into his arms, and she could feel how he was trembling. Tears were streaming down his face and he made no effort to check them or wipe them away. \"Ah, Morgaine, Morgaine, my poor sister-I knew I had done you a great wrong, but I dreamed never that it was so great a wrong as this-\"\n\n\"You mean this is true?\" Gwenhwyfar cried out. \"That this unchaste harlot of a sister of yours, she is such a one as would practice her whore's arts on her own brother-!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arthur swung round to her, his arm still around Morgaine. He said in a voice she had never heard before, \"Be silent! Speak not one word against my sister-it was neither her doing nor her fault!\" He drew along, shaking breath, and Gwenhwyfar had time to hear the echo of her own ugly words. \"My poor sister,\" Arthur said again. \"And you have borne this burden alone, nor ever laid the fault rightly at my door-no, Gwenhwyfar,\" he said earnestly, turning to her again, \"it is not what you think. It was at my kingmaking, and neither of us knew the other-it was dark, and we had not seen one another since I was so small that Morgaine could carry me about in her arms. She was tome no more than the priestess of the Mother, and I was no more to her than the Horned One, and when we knew one another, it was too late and the harm was done,\" he said, and it was as if he forced his voice past tears. And he held Morgaine close to him, crying out, \"Morgaine, Morgaine, you should have told me!\"\n\n\"And again you think only of her!\" Gwenhwyfar cried. \"Not of your own greatest of all sins-she is your own sister, the child of your own mother's womb, and for such a thing as this God will punish you-\"\n\n\"He has punished me indeed,\" said Arthur, holding Morgaine close. \"But the sin was unknowing, with no desire to do evil.\"\n\n\"Maybe it is for this,\" Gwenhwyfar faltered, \"that he has punished you with barrenness, and even now, if you repent and do penance-\"\n\nMorgaine pulled herself gently free of Arthur. Gwenhwyfar watched, with a rage she could not speak, as Morgaine dried his tears with her own kerchief, almost an absentminded gesture, the gesture of a mother or older sister, with nothing in it of the harlotry she wished to see. She said, \"Gwenhwyfar, you think too much of sin. We did no sin, Arthur and I. Sin is in the wish to do harm. We came together by the will of the Goddess, for the forces of life, and if a child came to birth, then it was made in love, whatever brought us together. Arthur cannot acknowledge a son begotten on his sister's body, it is true. But he is not the first king to have a bastard son whose very existence he cannot admit. The boy is healthy and well, and safe in Avalon. The Goddess-for that matter, your God-is not a vindictive demon, looking about to punish somebody for some imagined sin. What happened between Arthur and me, it should not have happened, neither he nor I would have sought it, but done is done-the Goddess would not punish you with childlessness for the sins of another. Can you blame your own childlessness on Arthur, Gwen?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwenhwyfar cried, \"I do so! He has sinned, and God has punished him-for incest, for fathering a son on his own sister-for serving the Goddess, that fiend of foul abominations and lechery.... Arthur,\" she cried, \"tell me you will do penance, that you will goon this holy day and tell the bishop how you have sinned, and do such penance as he may lay on you, and then perhaps God will forgive you and he will cease to punish us both!\"\n\nArthur, troubled, looked from Morgaine to Gwenhwyfar. Morgaine said, \"Penance? Sin? Do you truly believe that your God is an evil-minded old man, who snoops around to see who lies in bed with another's wife?\"\n\n\"I have confessed my sins,\" Gwenhwyfar cried, \"I have done penance and been absolved, it is not for my sins that God punishes us I Say you will do so too, Arthur! When God gave you the victory at Mount Badon, you swore to put aside the old dragon banner, and rule as a Christian king, but you left this sin unconfessed. Now do penance for this too, and let God give you the victory of this day as he did at Mount Badon-and be freed of your sins, and give me a son who can rule after you at Camelot!\"\n\nArthur turned and leaned against the wall, covering his face with his hands. Morgaine would have moved toward him again, but Gwenhwyfar cried, \"Keep away from him, you-! Would you tempt him into sin further than this? Have you not done enough, you and that foul demon you call your Goddess, you and that evil old witch whom Balin rightly killed for her heathen sorceries-?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine shut her eyes, and her face looked as if she were about to weep. Then she sighed and said, \"I cannot listen to you curse at my religion, Gwenhwyfar. I cursed not yours, remember that. God is God, however called, and always good. I think it sin to believe God can be cruel or vindictive, and you would make him meaner than the worst of his priests. I beg you to consider well what you do before you put Arthur into the hands of his priests with this.\" She turned, her crimson draperies moving silently around her, and left the room.\n\nArthur turned back to Gwenhwyfar as he heard Morgaine go. At last he said, more gently than he had ever spoken to her, even when they lay in each other's arms, \"My dearest love-\"\n\n\"Can you call me so?\" she said bitterly, and turned away. He followed her, laying a hand on her shoulder and turning her round to face him. \"My dearest lady and queen-have I done you such a wrong?\"\n\n\"Even now,\" she said shaking, \"even now all you can think of is the wrong you have done to Morgaine-\"\n\n\"Should I be happy at the thought of what I have brought on my own sister? I swear to you, I knew her not until the thing was done, and then, when I recognized her, it was she who comforted me, as if I had been the little boy who used to sit in her lap.... I think if she had turned on me and accused me, as she had every right to do, I would have gone away and drowned myself in the Lake. But I never thought what might come to her... I was so young, and there were all the Saxons and all the battles-\" He spread his hands helplessly. \"I tried to do as she bade me-put it behind us, remember that what we had done was done in ignorance. Oh, I suppose it was sin, but I did not choose to sin....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He looked so wretched that fora moment Gwenhwyfar was tempted to say what he wanted to hear, that indeed he had done no wrong; to take him in her arms and comfort him. But she did not move. Never, never had Arthur come to her for comfort, never had he acknowledged that he had done her any wrong; even now, all he could do was to insist that the sin which had kept them childless was no sin; his concern was only for the wrong he had done that damned sorceress of a sister of his! She said, crying again and furious because she knew he would think she wept from sorrow and not from rage, \"You think it is only Morgaine you have wronged?\"\n\n\"I cannot see I have harmed any other,\" he said stubbornly. \"Gwenhwyfar, it was before ever I set eyes on you!\"\n\n\"But you married me with this great sin unconfessed, and even now you cling to your sin when you might be shriven and do penance, and freed of your punishment-\"\n\nHe said wearily, \"Gwenhwyfar mine, if your God is such a one as would punish a man fora sin he knew not he committed, would he then abate that punishment because I tell a priest, and mouth such prayers as he gives me, and I know not what all-eat bread and water fora space, or what have you-?\"\n\n\"If you truly repent-\"\n\n\"Oh, God, do you think I have not repented?\" Arthur burst out. \"I have repented it every time I looked on Morgaine, these twelve years past! Would it make my repentance stronger to avow it before one of these priests who wants nothing more than to have power over a king?\"\n\n\"You think only of your pride,\" Gwenhwyfar said angrily, \"and pride too is a sin. Would you but humble yourself, God would forgive you!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"If your God is such a God as that, I want not his forgiveness!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arthur's fists were clenched. \"I must rule this kingdom, my Gwen, and I cannot do that if I kneel before some priest and accept whatever he chooses to lay on me for penance! And there is Morgaine to think of-already they call her sorceress, harlot, witch! I have no right to confess to a sin which will call down scorn and public shame to my sister!\"\n\n\"Morgaine too has a soul to be saved,\" said Gwenhwyfar, \"and if the people of this land see that their king can put aside his pride and take thought for his soul, repent humbly for his sins, then it will help them to save their souls too, and it will be to his credit even in Heaven.\"\n\nHe said, sighing, \"Why, you argue as well as any councillor, Gwenhwyfar. I am not a priest, and I am not concerned with the souls of my people-\"\n\n\"How dare you say so?\" she cried. \"As a king is above all his people and their lives are in his hand, so are their souls too! You should be foremost in piety as you are in bravery on the battlefield! How would you think of a king who sent his soldiers out to fight, and sat safe out of sight and watched them from afar?\"\n\n\"Not well,\" said Arthur, and Gwenhwyfar, knowing she had him now, said, \" Then what would you think of a king who saw his people pursue ways of piety and virtue, and said he need have no thought to his own sins?\n\nArthur sighed. \"Why should you care so much, Gwenhwyfar?\"\n\n\"Because I cannot bear to think that you will suffer hellfire... and because if you free yourself of your sin, God may cease to punish us with childlessness.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She choked at last and began to cry again. He put his arms around her and stood with her head against his shoulder. He said gently, \"Believe you this truly, my queen?\"\n\nShe remembered; once before, when he had first refused to bear the banner of the Virgin into the battle, he had spoken to her like this. And then she had triumphed and brought him to Christ, and God had given him the victory. But then she had not known he had this sin unconfessed on his soul. She nodded against him and heard him sigh.\n\n\"Then I have done you wrong too, and I must somehow amend it. But I cannot see how it is right that Morgaine should suffer shame for this.\"\n\n\"Always Morgaine,\" said Gwenhwyfar, in ablaze of white rage. \"You will not have her suffer, she is perfect in your eyes-tell me then, is it right that I should suffer for the sin that she has done, or you? Do you love her so much better than me that you will let me go childless all my days so that sin maybe kept secret?\"\n\n\"Even if I have done wrong, my Gwen, Morgaine is blameless-\"\n\n\"Nay, that she is not,\" Gwenhwyfar flared, \"for she follows that ancient Goddess, and the priests say that their Goddess is that same old serpent of evil whom our Lord drove from the Garden of Eden! Even now Morgaine clings to those filthy and heathenish rituals of hers-God tells us, yes, that those heathen who have not heard the word of the Lord maybe saved, but what of Morgaine, who was brought up in a Christian household, and afterward turned to the filthy sorcerous ways of Avalon? And all these years at this court, she has heard the word of Christ, and do they not say that those who hear the word of Christ and do not repent and believe in him, they shall surely be damned? And women especially have need of repentance, since through a woman sin came first into the world-\" Gwenhwyfar was sobbing so hard that she could hardly speak." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At last Arthur said, \"What do you want me to do, my Gwenhwyfar?\"\n\n\"This is the holy day of Pentecost,\" she said, wiping her eyes and trying to control her sobs, \"when the spirit of God came down to Man. Will you go to the mass and take the sacrament with this great sin on your soul?\"\n\n\"I suppose-I suppose I cannot,\" said Arthur, his voice breaking. \"If truly you believe this, Gwenhwyfar, I will not deny it to you. I will repent as far as it is in me to repent for something I cannot think a sin, and I will do what penance the bishop lays on me.\" His smile was only a thin, harried grimace. \"I hope, for your sake, my love, that you are right about God's will.\"\n\nAnd Gwenhwyfar, even as she put her arms around him, crying with thankfulness, had a moment of shattering fear and doubt. She remembered when she had stood in the house of Meleagrant, and known that all her prayers could not save her. God had not rewarded her for her virtue, and when Lancelet came to her, had she not sworn to herself that never again would she hide or repent, because a God who had not rewarded her virtue would surely not punish her sin. God could not care either way....\n\nBut God had punished her indeed; God had taken Lancelet from her and given him to Elaine, so for all that perilling of her soul she had won nothing... she had confessed and done penance, but God punished her still. And now she knew it might not be all her fault, but that she was bearing the weight of Arthur's sin too, the sin he had done with his sister. But if they were both freed of sin, if he did penance for that great sin unconfessed, and humbled himself, then no doubt God would forgive him too...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arthur kissed the top of her head and stroked her hair. Then he moved away, and she felt cold and lost when he took his arms away from her, as if she were not safely within walls but out under the huge open sky, bewildering, huge, filled with terror. She moved toward him again, to take refuge in his arms, but he had dropped into a chair and sat there, exhausted, beaten, a thousand leagues away from her.\n\nAt last he raised his head, and said, with a sigh that seemed ripped from the very depths of his being, \"Send for Father Patricius.\"\n\nWhen Morgaine left Arthur and Gwenhwyfar in their chamber, she snatched a cloak and fled out into the weather, uncaring of the rain. She went to the high battlements and walked there, alone; the tents of Arthur's followers and Companions, of the lesser kings and the guests, crowded the level space at the brow of the hill that was Camelot, and even in the rain, all the banners and flags fluttered brightly. But the sky was dark, and thick low clouds almost touched the brow of the hill; pacing, restless, Morgaine thought that the Holy Ghost could have chosen a finer day to descend on his people-and especially on Arthur.\n\nOh, yes. Gwenhwyfar would give him no peace until he had given himself into the hands of the priests. And what of his vow to Avalon?\n\nAnd yet if it should be Gwydion's fate that one day he should sit on his father's throne, if that was what the Merlin planned... no man could escape fate. Morgaine thought mirthlessly, No woman either. Taliesin, who knew all manner of music and old tales, had once told her a story from the ancients who dwelt to the south in the Holy Land or somewhere near to there, of a man who was born under a curse that he should slay his father and wed with his mother. So the parents listened to the curse and cast him out to die, and he was reared by strangers, and one day, meeting with his father, unknowing, he quarrelled with him, killed him, and wedded with his widow; so that the very means they had taken to prevent the falling of the curse had brought it to pass-had he been reared in his father's house, he would not have done what he did in ignorance...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "She and Arthur had done what they did in ignorance, too, yet the fairy woman had cursed her son: Cast forth your babe, or kill it as it comes from the womb; what of the King Stag when the young stag is grown?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And it seemed to her that all round her the world grew grey and strange, as if she had wandered into the mists of Avalon, and there was a strange humming in her brain.\n\nThere seemed a terrible clanging and banging in the air all round her, deafening her... no, it was the church bells, ringing for the mass. She had heard, too, that the fairy folk could not abide the sound of the church bells, and it was for that reason they had taken to the far hills and hollows... it seemed to her that she could not go and sit quietly, as she usually did, listening with polite attention because the Queen's waiting-women should set an example to all the others. She thought that the walls would stifle her and the mumbling of the priests and the smoke of the incense would drive her mad; better to stay out herein the clean rain. Now she thought to draw up the hood of the woolen cloak over her head; the ribbons in her hair were all wet, likely they were spoilt. She fumbled with them and the red came off on her fingers; poorly dyed they were, for materials so costly.\n\nBut the rain was slowing a little, and people were beginning to move about in the spaces between the tents.\n\n\"There will be no mock battle games today,\" said a voice behind her, \"or I would ask you for one of those ribbons you are casting about, and carry it into battle as a flag of honor, lady Morgaine.\"\n\nMorgaine blinked, trying to collect herself. A young man, slender and dark-haired, with dark eyes; something familiar about him, but she could not quite remember....\n\n\"You do not remember me, lady?\" he said reproachfully. \"And I was told you had wagered a ribbon on my success in just such a mock battle a year or two ago-or was it three?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Now she remembered him; he was the son of King Uriens of North Wales. Accolon, that was his name; and she had wagered with one of the Queen's ladies who claimed that no man could stand in the field against Lancelot.... She had never known how her wager came off; that was the Pentecost when Viviane had been murdered.\n\n\"Indeed I remember you, sir Accolon, but that Pentecost feast, you may remember, ended in such brutal murder, and it was my foster-mother who was slain-\"\n\nHe was at once contrite. \"Then I must beg your pardon for calling such a sad occasion to your mind. And I suppose there will be enough mock battles and combats before we leave here again, now that there is no war in the land-my lord Arthur wishes to know that his legions are still skilled to defend us all.\"\n\n\"The need seems not too likely,\" she said, \"even the wild Northmen turn elsewhere these days. Do you miss the days of battle and glory?\"\n\nHe had, she thought, a nice smile. \"I fought at Mount Badon,\" he said. \"It was my first battle, and came near to being my last. I think I prefer mock battles and tourneys. I will fight if I must, but it is better to fight in play against friends who have no real desire to kill, with pretty ladies looking down and admiring us-in real battle, lady, there is none to admire gallantry, and indeed, little of gallantry, for all they talk of courage....\"\n\nThey had moved, as they spoke, nearer to the church; and now the sound of the bells nearly drowned his voice-a pleasant, musical voice, she thought. She wondered if he played upon the harp. She turned abruptly away from the sound of the bells." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Are you not going to the holy day mass, lady Morgaine?\"\n\nShe smiled and looked down at his wrists, where the serpents twined. She ran alight finger over one of them. \"Are you?\"\n\n\"I do not know. I thought I might go to seethe faces of my friends-no, I think not,\" he said, smiling at her, \"when there is a lady to talk to....\"\n\nShe said, tingeing her voice with irony, \"Do you not fear for your soul?\"\n\n\"Oh, my father is pious enough for both of us... he has no wife now, and no doubt he wishes to study out the land and see how it lies for his next conquest. He has listened well to the Apostle and knows it is better to marry than to burn, and he burns oftener than I would think dignified fora man of his years....\"\n\n\"You have lost your mother, sir Accolon?\"\n\n\"Aye, before I was weaned; and my stepmothers one, two, and three,\" Accolon said. \"My father has three sons living, and it is certain he can have no further need of heirs, but he is too pious only to take a woman to his bed, so he must marry again. And even my oldest brother is married, and has a son.\"\n\n\"You were the son of his old age?\"\n\n\"Of his middle age,\" Accolon said, \"and I am not so young as all that. If there had not been war when I was younger, I might have been destined for Avalon and the lore of the priests. But my father has grown Christian in his old age.\"\n\n\"Yet you wear the serpents.\"\n\nHe nodded. \"And know something of their wisdom, yet not enough to content me. In these days there is not much fora younger son to do. My father told me he would also seek a wife for meat this gathering,\" he said with a smile. \"I would that you were the daughter of some lesser man, lady.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine felt herself blushing like a girl. \"Oh, I am too old for you,\" she said, \"and I am only the King's half-sister by his mother's first marriage. My father was Duke Gorlois, the first man Uther Pendragon killed as a traitor....\"\n\nThere was a brief silence before Accolon said, \"In these days it is dangerous, perhaps, to wear the serpents-or will be, if the priests grow more powerful. When Arthur came to the throne, I heard he had the support of Avalon, that the Merlin gave him the sword of the Holy Regalia. But now he has made this so Christian a court... my father told me that he feared Arthur would move this land back to the Druid rule, but it seems he has not....\"\n\n\"True,\" she said, and fora moment anger stifled her. \"Yet still he wears the Druid sword....\"\n\nHe looked at her closely. \"And you bear the crescent of Avalon.\" Morgaine blushed. All the people had gone into the church now, and the doors were shut. \"It has begun to rain harder-lady Morgaine, you will be drenched, you will take cold. You must go inside. But will you come and sit beside meat the feast this day?\"\n\nShe hesitated, smiling. It was certain that Arthur and Gwenhwyfar would not seek her company at the high table this day of all days.\n\nShe who must remember what it was like to fall prey to Meleagrant's lust... should she blame me, she that comforted herself in the arms of her husband's dearest friend? Oh, no, it was not rape, nothing like to it, but still I was given to the Horned One without anyone's asking if it was what I wished... it was not desire brought me to my brother's bed, but obedience to the will of the Goddess...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Accolon was still waiting for her answer, his face turned to her, eagerly. If I willed it, he would kiss me, he would beg me for the favor of a single touch. She knew it and the thought was healing to her pride. She smiled at him, a smile that dazzled him.\n\n\"I will indeed, if we can sit far off from your father.\" And it struck her suddenly: Arthur had looked at her like that. That is what Gwenhwyfar fears. She knows what I did not know, that if I stretched my hand to Arthur, I could make him ignore anything she said; Arthur loves me best. I have no desire for Arthur, I would have him only as a dear brother, but she does not know that. She fears that I will beckon with my hand, and with the secret arts of Avalon I will seduce him to my bed again.\n\n\"I beg you, go inside and change your-your gown,\" said Accolon earnestly, and Morgaine smiled at him again and pressed his hand in her own.\n\n\"I will see you at the feast.\"\n\nALL THROUGH the holy day service, Gwenhwyfar had sat alone, striving to compose herself. The Archbishop had preached the usual Pentecost sermon, telling of the descent of the Holy Spirit, and she thought, If Arthur has at last repented all his sins and become a Christian, then I must give thanks to the Holy Spirit for coming onus both today. She let her fingers stray unseen to her belly; today they had lain together, it might be that at Candlemas she would hold in her arms the heir to the kingdom... she looked across the church to where Lancelet knelt at Elaine's side. She could see, jealously, that Elaine's waist was already swelling again. Another son, or a daughter. And now Elaine flaunts herself, beside the man I loved so long and so well with the son I should have borne... well, I must bend my head and be humble awhile, it will not hurt me to pretend that I believe her son will follow Arthur on his throne.... Ah, I am a sinful woman, I spoke to Arthur of humbling his pride, and I am full of pride." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Helping the author, keep the tale going.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 10" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Accolon was still waiting for her answer, his face turned to her, eagerly. If I willed it, he would kiss me, he would beg me for the favor of a single touch. She knew it and the thought was healing to her pride. She smiled at him, a smile that dazzled him.\n\n\"I will indeed, if we can sit far off from your father.\" And it struck her suddenly: Arthur had looked at her like that. That is what Gwenhwyfar fears. She knows what I did not know, that if I stretched my hand to Arthur, I could make him ignore anything she said; Arthur loves me best. I have no desire for Arthur, I would have him only as a dear brother, but she does not know that. She fears that I will beckon with my hand, and with the secret arts of Avalon I will seduce him to my bed again.\n\n\"I beg you, go inside and change your-your gown,\" said Accolon earnestly, and Morgaine smiled at him again and pressed his hand in her own.\n\n\"I will see you at the feast.\"\n\nALL THROUGH the holy day service, Gwenhwyfar had sat alone, striving to compose herself. The Archbishop had preached the usual Pentecost sermon, telling of the descent of the Holy Spirit, and she thought, If Arthur has at last repented all his sins and become a Christian, then I must give thanks to the Holy Spirit for coming onus both today. She let her fingers stray unseen to her belly; today they had lain together, it might be that at Candlemas she would hold in her arms the heir to the kingdom... she looked across the church to where Lancelet knelt at Elaine's side. She could see, jealously, that Elaine's waist was already swelling again. Another son, or a daughter. And now Elaine flaunts herself, beside the man I loved so long and so well with the son I should have borne... well, I must bend my head and be humble awhile, it will not hurt me to pretend that I believe her son will follow Arthur on his throne.... Ah, I am a sinful woman, I spoke to Arthur of humbling his pride, and I am full of pride." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The church was crowded, as always at this holy day mass. Arthur looked pale and subdued; he had spoken with the bishop, but there had been no time for extended talk before the mass. She knelt beside him and felt that he was a stranger, far more of a stranger than when she had first lain in his bed, terrified of the unknown things ahead of her.\n\nI should have held my peace with Morgaine....\n\nWhy do I feel guilty? It was Morgaine who sinned... I have repented my sins and confessed them and been absolved....\n\nMorgaine was not in the church; no doubt, she had not had the brazenness to come unshriven to holy services when she had been exposed for what she was-incestuous, heathen, witch, sorceress.\n\nThe service seemed to last forever, but at last the blessing was given and the people began to move out of the church. Once fora moment she found herself crushed against Elaine and Lancelet; he had his arm protectively around his wife, that she should not be jostled. Gwenhwyfar raised her eyes to them, so that she need not look at Elaine's swollen belly.\n\n\"It is long since we have seen you at court,\" she said.\n\n\"Ah, there is much to do in the North,\" Lancelet said.\n\n\"No more dragons, I trust?\" Arthur asked.\n\n\"God be thanked, no,\" Lancelet said, smiling. \"My first sight of a dragon was like to be my last.... God forgive me that I mocked at Pellinore when he spoke of the beast! And now that there are no more Saxons to slay, I suppose our Companions must go against dragons and bandits and reavers, and all manner of ill things that plague the people.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elaine smiled shyly at Gwenhwyfar. \"My husband is like to all men-they would rather go into battle, even against dragons, than stay home and enjoy that peace they fought so hard to win! Is Arthur so?\"\n\n\"I think he has battle enough, here at court where all men come to him for justice,\" said Gwenhwyfar, dismissing that. \"When will this one come?\" she added, looking at Elaine's swelling body. \"Do you think it will be another son, or a daughter?\"\n\n\"I hope it is another son, I do not want a daughter,\" Elaine said, \"but it shall be as God wills. Where is Morgaine? Did she not come to church? Is she ill?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar smiled scornfully. \"I think you know how good a Christian Morgaine is.\"\n\n\"But she is my friend,\" Elaine said, \"and no matter how bad a Christian she maybe, I love her and I will pray for her.\"\n\nWell you might, thought Gwenhwyfar bitterly. She had you married to spite me. It seemed that Elaine's sweet blue eyes were cloying, her voice false. It seemed to her that if she stood there a moment more listening to Elaine she would turn on her and strangle her. She made an excuse, and after a moment Arthur followed her.\n\nHe said, \"I had hoped we would have Lancelet with us for some weeks, but he would be off to the North again. But he said Elaine might stay, if you would like to have her. She is near enough to her confinement that he would rather she did not return alone. Perhaps Morgaine is lonely for her friend, too. Well, you women must arrange that among yourselves-\" He turned, and his face was bleak as he looked down at her. \"I must go to the Archbishop. He said he would speak with me immediately after mass.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She wanted to clutch at him, keep him back, hold him with her by both hands, but it had gone too far for that.\n\n\"Morgaine was not in church,\" he said. \"Tell me, Gwenhwyfar, did you say anything to her-\"\n\n\"I spoke not one word to her, good or bad,\" she said shrilly. \"As for where she is, I care not-I wish she were in hell!\"\n\nHe opened his mouth and fora moment she thought he would chide her, and in a perverse way she longed for his wrath. But he only sighed and lowered his head. She could not bear to see him so beaten, like a whipped dog. \"Gwen, I beg you, do not quarrel further with Morgaine. She has been hurt enough already-\" And then, as if he was ashamed of his pleading, he turned abruptly and went away from her, toward where the Archbishop was standing and greeting his flock. As Arthur came toward him he bowed, spoke a few words of excuse to the others, and the King and the Archbishop moved away together through the crowds.\n\nInside the castle there was much to do-welcoming guests to the hall, speaking to men who had been Arthur's Companions in years gone by, explaining to them that Arthur had business with one of his councillors-that was no lie, Patricius was indeed one of Arthur's advisers-and would be late. Fora time everyone was so busy greeting old friends, exchanging stories of what had befallen in their homes and villages, of what marriages had been made and daughters betrothed and sons grown to manhood, of what babies had been born and robbers slain and roads built, that the time went on and the absence of King Arthur was hardly noticed. But at last even reminiscences palled, and the people in the hall began to murmur. The food would be cold, Gwenhwyfar knew; but you could not start the King's feast unless the King was there. She gave orders for wine and beer and cider to be served, knowing that by the time the food was served now, many of the guests would be too drunk to care. She saw Morgaine far down the table, laughing and talking with a man she did not recognize, save that he had the serpents of Avalon around his wrist; would she practice her priestess-harlotries to seduce him too, as she had seduced Lancelet before him, and the Merlin? Morgaine's whorish ways were so great, she could not let any man slip beyond her grasp." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When Arthur finally came, walking slowly and heavily, she was overwhelmed with distress; she had never seen him look like that except when he was wounded and near to death. She felt suddenly that he had taken a deeper wound than she could know, in his very soul, and fora moment wondered, had Morgaine been right to spare him this knowledge? No. As his devoted wife, what she had done was to secure the health of his soul and his eventual salvation; what was a little humiliation against that?\n\nHe had taken off his holiday gown and wore a simple tunic, unadorned; nor had he put on the coronet he wore on such occasions. His golden hair looked dull and greyed. As they saw him enter, all his Companions had broken into wild applause and cheering; he stood solemnly, accepting it, smiling, then finally raised a hand.\n\n\"I am sorry to have kept you all waiting,\" he said. \"I beg you forgive me, and go to your meat.\" He sat down at his place, sighing. The servants began to go around with the smoking pots and platters, the carvers to wield their knives. Gwenhwyfar let one of the butlers lay some slices of roast duck on her plate, but she only played with her food. After a time she dared to raise her eyes and look toward Arthur. Among the abundance of festival meats, he had nothing on his plate but a bit of bread, without even butter, and in his cup was only water.\n\nShe remonstrated, \"But you are eating nothing-\"\n\nHis smile was wry. \"It is no insult to the food. I am sure it is fine as always, my love.\"\n\n\"It is not well done, to fast on a feast day-\"\n\nHe grimaced. \"Well, if you must have it,\" he said impatiently, \"the bishop would have it that my sin was so grievous that he cannot absolve it with ordinary penance, and since that was what you wished of me, well-\" He spread his hands wearily. \"And so I come to Pentecost holiday in my shirt and without my fine clothing, and I have many fastings and prayers till I have done full penance-but you have had your wish, Gwenhwyfar.\" He picked up his cup and drank water, resolutely, and she knew he did not want her to say more." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But she had not wanted it like this.... Gwenhwyfar tightened her whole body so that she would not weep again; all eyes were on them, and surely it was scandal enough that the King sat fasting at his own highest festival. Outside the rain beat and battered on the roof. There was a strange silence in the hall. At last Arthur raised his head and called for music.\n\n\"Let Morgaine sing for us-she is better than any minstrel!\"\n\nMorgaine! Morgaine! Always Morgaine! But what could she do? Morgaine, she noticed, had put off the bright gown she had worn that morning and was wearing dark sober stuff like a nun's. She looked not so much like a harlot, now, without her bright ribbons; she came and took the harp, and sat near the King's table to sing.\n\nBecause it seemed to be what Arthur wished, there was some laughing and gaiety, and when Morgaine had finished, another took the harp, and another. There was much moving from table to table, talking, singing, drinking.\n\nLancelet came toward them and Arthur gestured to him to sit beside them, as in the old days, on the bench. The servants were bringing great plates of sweets and fruit, baked apples in cream and wine, all manner of delicate and subtle pastries. They sat talking of nothing in particular, and Gwenhwyfar felt happy fora moment: it was like old times, when they had all been friends, when there was love among them all... why could it not always have stayed like that?\n\nAfter sometime, Arthur rose and said, \"I think I will go and talk to some of the older Companions... my legs are young, and some of them are getting so old and grey. Pellinore-he looks not as if he could fight a dragon. I think a good stiff fight with Elaine's little lapdog would be hard for him now!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Lancelet said, \"Since Elaine is married, it is as if he has nothing more to do in life." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Such men often die soon after they have decided such a thing. I hope it may not be so with him-I love Pellinore and hope he will belong with us.\" He smiled shyly. \"I never felt I had a father-though Ban was good tome in his way-and now, for the first time, I have a kinsman who treats meas a son. Brothers I had not either, till I was grown and Ban's sons Lionel and Bors came to the court. I grew to manhood hardly speaking their language. And Balan had other concerns.\"\n\nArthur had hardly smiled since he had come from the bishop's rooms, but he was smiling now. \"Does a cousin count for so much less than a brother, then, Galahad?\"\n\nLancelet reached out and gripped his wrist. \"God strike me if I could forget that, Gwydion-\" He raised his eyes to Arthur, and fora moment, Gwenhwyfar thought Arthur would embrace him; but then Arthur drew back and let his hand drop. Lancelet gazed at him, startled, but Arthur got quickly to his feet.\n\n\"There is Uriens, and Marcus of Cornwall-he too grows old.... They shall see that their king is not too proud to come and speak to them today. Stay hereby Gwenhwyfar, Lance, let it be like old times today.\"\n\nLancelet did as he was asked, sitting on the bench beside Gwenhwyfar. At last he asked, \"Is Arthur ill?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar shook her head. \"I think he has penance to do and is brooding about it.\"\n\n\"Well, surely Arthur can have no great sin on his soul,\" Lancelet said, \"he is one of the most spotless men I know. I am proud that he is still my friend-I do not deserve it, I know, Gwen.\" He looked at her so sadly that again Gwenhwyfar almost wept. Why could she not have loved the two of them without sin, why had God ordained that a woman must have only one husband? She was grown as bad as Morgaine, that she could think such a thing!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "She touched his hand." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Are you happy with Elaine, Lancelet?\"\n\n\"Happy? What man alive is happy? I do as best I can.\"\n\nShe looked down at her hands. Fora moment she forgot that this man had been her lover and remembered only that he had been her friend. \"I want you to be happy. Truly, I do.\"\n\nHis hand closed fora moment over hers. \"I know, my dear. I did not want to come here today. I love you, and I love Arthur-but the day is past when I can be content to be his captain of horse and-\" His voice broke. \"And the champion of the Queen.\"\n\nShe said suddenly, looking up, her hand in his, \"Does it seem sometimes to you that we are no longer young, Lancelet?\"\n\nHe nodded and sighed. \"Aye-it does so.\"\n\nMorgaine had taken the harp again and was singing. Lancelet said, \"Her voice is as sweet as ever. I am put in memory of my mother singing-she sang not so well as Morgaine, but she had the same soft, low voice-\"\n\n\"Morgaine is as young as ever,\" said Gwenhwyfar jealously.\n\n\"It is so with those of the old blood, they seem ever young until the day they are suddenly old,\" Lancelet said; then, bending down to touch her cheek in alight kiss, he said abruptly, \"Never think you are less beautiful than Morgaine, my Gwen. It is a different beauty, that is all.\"\n\n\"Why do you say this?\"\n\n\"Love, I cannot bear it if you are unhappy....\"\n\nShe said, \"I do not think I know what it means, to be happy.\"\n\nHow is Morgaine so untouched? That which wrecked my life and Arthur's, it lies lightly on her, there she sits laughing and singing, and yonder knight with the serpents about his wrists, is glamoured by her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Soon after, Lancelet said he must go back to Elaine, and left her; and when Arthur returned, there were Companions and old followers coming to him for concessions, to give him gifts and recall their service. After a time Uriens of North Wales came, portly now and greying, but he still had all his own teeth, and he led his men into the field when he must.\n\nHe said, \"I have come to ask you a favor, Arthur. I want to marry again, and I would like to be allied with your house. I have heard that Lot of Lothian is dead, and I ask your permission to marry his widow, Morgause.\"\n\nArthur had to stifle a laugh. \"Ah, for that, my friend, you must ask leave of sir Gawaine. Lothian is his now, and no doubt he would be glad to marry his mother away, but no doubt, the lady is old enough to have a mind of her own. I cannot order her to marry-it would be like ordering my mother to marry!\"\n\nGwenhwyfar was struck by sudden inspiration. This would be the perfect solution-Arthur himself had said that if it became known at court, Morgaine could be scorned or shamed. She reached out and touched Arthur's sleeve. She said in a low voice, \"Arthur, Uriens is a valuable ally. You have told me that the mines of Wales are valuable as they were to the Romans, for iron and lead... and you have a kinswoman whose marriage is in your keeping.\"\n\nHe looked at her, startled. \"Uriens is so old!\"\n\n\"Morgaine is older than you,\" she said, \"and since he has grown sons and grandsons, he will not mind too much if Morgaine does not give him children.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That is true,\" said Arthur with a frown, \"and this seems a good match.\" He raised his head to Uriens and said, \"I cannot order lady Morgause to marry again, but my sister, the Duchess of Cornwall, is not married.\"\n\nUriens bowed. \"I could not presume to ask so high, my king, but if your sister would be queen in my country-\"\n\n\"I will compel no woman to marry unwilling,\" said Arthur, \"but I will ask her.\" He beckoned one of the pages. \"Ask the lady Morgaine if she will come tome when she has finished singing.\"\n\nUriens' eyes were on Morgaine where she sat, her dark gown lending fairness to her skin. \"She is very beautiful, your sister. Any man would think himself fortunate to have such a wife.\"\n\nAs Uriens went to his seat, Arthur said thoughtfully, watching Morgaine come toward them, \"She is long unmarried-she must wish fora home of her own where she will be mistress, rather than serving another woman always. And she is too learned for many young men. But Uriens will be glad that she is gracious and will rule his home well. I wish, though, that he were not quite so old....\"\n\n\"I think she will be happier with an older man,\" Gwenhwyfar said. \"She is not a giddy young thing.\"\n\nMorgaine came and curtseyed to them. Always, in public, she was smiling and impassive, and Gwenhwyfar was for once glad of it.\n\n\"Sister,\" said Arthur, \"I have had an offer of marriage for you. And after this morning\"-he lowered his voice-\"I think it well you should not live at court fora time.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Indeed I would be glad to begone from here, brother.\"\n\n\"Why, then-\" Arthur said, \"how would you like to live in North Wales? I hear it is desolate there, but no more than Tintagel, surely-\"\n\nTo Gwenhwyfar's surprise, Morgaine blushed like a girl of fifteen. \"I will not try to pretend I am as surprised as all that, brother.\"\n\nArthur chuckled. \"Why, he did not tell me he had spoken to you, the sly fellow.\"\n\nMorgaine colored and played with the end of her braid. She did not, Gwenhwyfar thought, look anywhere near her age. \"You may tell him I should be happy to live in North Wales.\"\n\nArthur said gently, \"Does the difference in age not bother you?\"\n\nHer face was rosy. \"If it does not bother him, it does not bother me.\"\n\n\"So be it,\" said Arthur, and beckoned to Uriens, who came, beaming. \"My sister has told me that she would like it well to be Queen of North Wales, my friend. I see no reason we cannot have the wedding with all speed, perhaps on Sunday.\" He raised his cup and called out to the assembled company, \"Drink to a wedding, my friends-a wedding between the lady Morgaine of Cornwall, my dear sister, and my good friend King Uriens of North Wales!\"\n\nFor the first time that day it sounded like a proper Pentecost feasting, as the applause, cries of congratulation, acclaim, all stormed up. Morgaine stood still as a stone.\n\nBut she agreed to this, she said he had spoken to her... Gwenhwyfar thought, and then she remembered the young man who had been flirting with Morgaine. Was that not Uriens' son-Accolon, Accolon, that was it. But surely she could not have expected him to offer for her; Morgaine was older than he was! It must have been Accolon-will she make a scene? Gwenhwyfar wondered." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And then, with another surge of hatred, Now let Morgaine see what it is like to be given in marriage to a man she does not love!\n\n\"So you will be a queen, too, my sister,\" she said, taking Morgaine's hand. \"I shall be your bride-woman.\"\n\nBut for all her sweet words, Morgaine looked her straight in the eye, and Gwenhwyfar knew that she had not been deceived.\n\nSo be it. We will at least be rid of one another. And no more pretense of friendship between us.\n\nMORGAINE SPEAKS...\n\nFora marriage destined to end as mine did, it began well enough, I suppose. Gwenhwyfar gave me a fine wedding, considering how she hated me; I had six bride-women and four of them were queens. Arthur gave me some fine and costly jewelry-I had never cared a great deal for jewelry, having not been accustomed to wear it in Avalon and never having learned since, though I had a few pieces that had been Igraine's. Now he gave me many more of our mother's gems, and some that had been plunder of the Saxons. I would have protested, but Gwenhwyfar reminded me that Uriens would expect to see his wife finely dressed as befitted a queen, and I shrugged and let her deck me out like a child's doll. One piece, an amber necklace, I remembered seeing Igraine wear when I was very young but never since; once I had seen it in her jewel chest when I was but small, and she said Gorlois had given it her and one day it should be mine, but before I was old enough to wear it I was priestess in Avalon and had no need of jewels. Now it was mine, with so many other things that I protested I would never wear them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The one thing I asked of them-to delay the wedding till I could send for Morgause, who was my only living kinswoman-they would not do." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Perhaps they thought I might come to my senses and protest that when I agreed to marry into North Wales, I had Accolon in mind, not the old king. I am sure Gwenhwyfar knew, at least. I wondered what Accolon would think of me; I had all but pledged myself to him, and before that night fell I had been publicly promised to his father! I had no chance to ask.\n\nBut after all, I suppose Accolon would want a bride of fifteen, not one of four-and-thirty. A woman past thirty-so women mostly said-must content herself with a man who had been often married and wanted her for her family connections, or for her beauty or possessions, or perhaps as a mother for his children. Well, my family connections could hardly be better. As for the rest-I had jewels enough, but I could hardly imagine myself as a mother to Accolon and whatever other children the old man might have. Grandmother to his son's children perhaps. I reminded myself with a start that Viviane's mother had been a grandmother younger than I was now; she had borne Viviane at thirteen, and Viviane's own daughter had been born before Viviane was fourteen.\n\nI spoke but once alone with Uriens, in the three days which elapsed between Pentecost and our bridal. Perhaps I hoped that he, a Christian king, would refuse when he knew; or perhaps even now he wanted a young wife who could give him children. Nor did I want him to take me under false pretenses and reproach me later, and I knew what a great thing these Christians made of an untouched wife; I suppose they had it from the Romans, with their pride of family and worship of virginity.\n\n\"I am long past thirty years old, Uriens,\" I said, \"and I am no maiden.\" I knew no gracious or polite way to say such things." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He reached forward and touched the small blue crescent between my brows. It was fading now; I could see it in the mirror which had been one of Gwenhwyfar's gifts. Viviane's had faded, too, when I came to Avalon, but she had used to paint it with blue dye.\n\n' \"You were priestess of Avalon, one of the maidens of the Lady of the Lake, and you went as a maiden to the God, is it so?\"\n\nI assented.\n\nUriens said, \"Some of my people still do so, and I make no great effort to put it down. The peasants feel that it is all very well for kings and great folk, who can afford to pay priests and the like to pray them out of Hell, to follow the way of Christ, but it would be hard on them if the Old Ones, who had been worshipped in our hills since timeout of mind, should not have their due. Accolon thinks much the same, but now so much of power is going into the hands of the priests, it is needful I too must not offend them. As for me, I care not what God sits on the throne in Heaven, or what God is worshipped by my people, so that my kingdom is at peace. But once I wore the antlers. I swear I will never reproach you, lady Morgaine.\"\n\nAh, Mother Goddess, I thought, this is grotesque, this is madness, you jest with me... I might well have made a happy marriage with Accolon, after all. But Accolon was young and would wish fora young wife.... I said to Uriens, \"One more thing you must know. I bore a child to the Horned One....\"\n\n\"I have said I will not reproach you with anything that is past, lady Morgaine-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You do not understand." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It went so ill with me when that child was born that I will certainly never bear another.\" A king, I thought, a king would want a fertile bride, even more than his younger son....\n\nHe patted my hand. I think he actually meant to comfort me. \"I have sons enough,\" he said. \"I have no need of others. Children area fine thing, but I have had my share and more.\"\n\nI thought: He is foolish, he is old.... but he is kind. If he had professed a madness of desire for me, I would have been sickened by him, but kindness I can live with.\n\n\"Do you grieve for your son, Morgaine? If you wish, you may send for him and have him fostered at my court, and I swear to you that neither he nor you shall ever hear a word of reproach, and he shall be decently reared as befits the son of the Duchess of Cornwall and the Queen of North Wales.\"\n\nThis kindness brought tears to my eyes. \"You are very kind,\" I said, \"but he is well where he is, in Avalon.\"\n\n\"Well, if you decide otherwise, tell me,\" he said. \"I would be glad of another boy about the house, and he would be the right age, I suppose, fora playmate to my youngest son, Uwaine.\"\n\n\"I thought Accolon was your youngest, sir.\"\n\n\"No, no, Uwaine is only nine years old. His mother died when he was born... you wouldn't think an old fellow like me could have a boy as young as nine, would you?\"\n\nWhy, yes, I would, I thought with an ironic smile, men areas proud of their ability to father sons as if it took a great skill. As if any tomcat could not do the same! At least a woman must bear a child in her body for most of a year and suffer to bring it forth, and so she has some reason for pride; but men accomplish their trick with no thought or trouble at all!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But I said, trying to make a jest of it, \"When I was a young girl, sir, there was a saying in my country: a husband of forty may not become a father, but a husband of sixty surely will do so.\"\n\nI had done this deliberately. If he had gone stiff and offended by the ribaldry of that, I would have known how I must treat him in the future, and taken great care always to speak him modest and quiet. Instead he laughed heartily and said, \"I think you and I may agree well enough, my dear. I have had enough of being married to young girls who don't know how to laugh. I hope you will be content, marrying an old fellow like me. My sons laugh at me because I married again after Uwaine was born, but to tell the truth, lady Morgaine, a man gets used to being married, and I do not like living alone. And when my last wife died of the summer fever-well, it is true that I wished to be akin by marriage to your brother, but also, I am lonely. And it comes tome that you, who are unmarried so many years beyond the women of your age, you may not like it so ill to have a home and a husband, even if he is not young and handsome. I know you were not consulted about this marriage-but I hope you will not be too unhappy.\"\n\nAt least, I thought, he does not expect me to be madly excited about the great honor of being married to him. I could have said that it would be no change-I had not truly been happy since I left Avalon, and since I would be unhappy wherever I was, at least it would be better to be away from Gwenhwyfar's malice. I could no longer make pretense to be her loyal kinswoman and friend, and that saddened me somewhat, because there had been a time when we had truly been friends, and it was not I who had changed. I certainly had no wish to rob her of Lancelet; but how could I explain to her that, though I had once desired him, I despised him, too, and would not have had him for husband as a gift. Oh, yes, if Arthur had married its to each other before he was wed to Gwenhwyfar-but even then it was too late. It was always too late after that afternoon beneath the ring stones. If I had let him take me then, none of this would have come about... but done is done, and I had not known what other plans Viviane had had for me; and they had brought me in the end to this wedding with Uriens." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Our first bedding was about what I expected. He stroked me and fussed and pumped away atop me fora little while, snorting and breathing hard, and then was suddenly done and away from me and asleep. Having expected no better, I was not disappointed, nor particularly sorry to curl up in the curve of his arm; he liked having me there, and although after the first few weeks he lay with me but seldom, still he liked having me in his bed and would sometimes hold me in his arms for hours, talking of this and that, and what was more, listening to what I said. Unlike the Romans of the South, these men of the Tribes never scorned to listen to a woman's advice, and for that, at least, I was grateful, that he would hear what I said and never put it aside as being but a woman's counsel.\n\nNorth Wales was a beautiful country, great hills and mountains that reminded me of the country of Lothian. But where Lothian was high and barren, Uriens'country was all green and fertile, lush with trees and flowers, and the soil was rich and the crops good. Uriens had built his castle in one of the finer valleys. His son Avalloch, and Avalloch's wife and children, deferred tome in all things, and his youngest son, Uwaine, called me'Mother.\" I came to know what it might have been to have a son to bring up, to look after all the little daily concerns of a growing child, climbing trees and breaking bones, outgrowing his clothes or tearing them in the woods, being rude to his tutors or taking dog's leave to go hunting when he should have been at his book; the priest who taught Uwaine his letters despaired, but he was the pride and joy of the arms master. Troublesome as he was, I loved him well; he waited on meat dinner, and often satin hall to listen tome when I played the harp-like all the folk of that country he had an ear for music and a clear and tuneful voice; and like all of that court, Uriens'family would rather make music themselves than listen to paid minstrels. After a year or two I began to think of Uwaine as my own son, and of course he could not remember his own mother. Wild as he was, he was always gentle with me; boys that age are not easy to control, but there were endearing moments, after days of rudeness or sullenness, when he would suddenly come and sit by me in the hall and sing to my harp, or bring me wildflowers or a clumsily tanned hareskin, and once or twice, awkward and shy as a young stork, he would bend and brush my cheek with his mouth. Often I wished, then, that I had had children of my own that I could rear myself. There was little enough else to do at this quiet court, faraway from the wars and troubles to the south." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And then, when I had been married to Uriens fora year, Accolon came home.\n\nSummer on the hills; the orchard in the queen's garden covered with pink and white blossoms. Morgaine, walking beneath the trees, felt an aching homesickness all through her blood, remembering the Avalon spring and the trees covered with those white and rosy clouds. The year was swinging toward the summer solstice; Morgaine reckoned it up, realizing ruefully that at last the effects of half a lifetime in Avalon were wearing away-the tides no longer ran in her blood.\n\nNo, need I lie to myself? It is not that I have forgotten, or that the tides no longer run in my blood, it is that I no longer let myself feel them. Morgaine considered herself dispassionately-the somber costly gown, suitable fora queen... Uriens had given her all the gowns and jewels which had belonged to his late wife, and she had her jewels from Igraine as well; Uriens liked to see her decked out in jewels befitting a queen.\n\nSome kings kill their prisoners of state, or enslave them in their mines; if it pleases the King of North Wales to hang his with jewels and parade her forth at his side, and call her queen, why not?\n\nYet she felt full of the flow of the summer. Beneath heron the hillside she could hear a plowman encouraging his ox with soft cries. Tomorrow would be Midsummer.\n\nNext Sunday a priest would carry torches into the field and circle it in procession with his acolytes, chanting psalms and blessings. The richer barons and knights, who were all Christian, had persuaded the people that this was more seemly in a Christian country than the old ways, where the people lighted fires in the fields, and called the Lady in the old worship. Morgaine wished-and not for the first time-that she had been only one of the priestesses, not one of the great royal line of Avalon." }, { "from": "human", "value": "I would still be there, she thought, one of them, doing the work of the Lady..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "not here, like any shipwrecked sailor, lost in an alien land.... Abruptly she turned and walked through the blossoming garden, her eyes downcast, refusing to look any further at the apple blossoms.\n\nSpring comes again and again, and the summer follows, with its fruitfulness. But I am as alone and barren as one of those locked-up Christian virgins within convent walls. She set her will against the tears which seemed somehow always beneath the surface these days, and went inside. Behind her the setting sun spread crimson over the fields, but she would not look at it; all was grey and barren here. As grey and barren as I.\n\nOne of her women greeted her as she stepped inside the door.\n\n\"My lady, the king has returned and would see you in his chamber.\"\n\n\"Yes, I suppose so,\" said Morgaine, more to herself than to the woman. A tight band of headache settled around her forehead, and fora moment she could not breathe, could not force herself to walk inside the darkness of the castle which, all this cold winter, had closed round her like a trap. Then she told herself not to be fanciful, set her teeth, and went to Uriens' chamber, where she found him half-clad and lying on the flagstones, stretched outwith his body servant rubbing his back.\n\n\"You have tired yourself again,\" she said, not adding, you are no longer young enough to go about your own lands like this. He had ridden to a nearby town to hear about some disputed lands. She knew that he would want her to sit beside him and listen to his tales of all that he had heard in the countryside. She sat down in her own chair nearby and listened with half an ear to what he told her.\n\n\"You can go, Berec,\" he told the man. \"My lady will fetch my clothes for me.\" When the man had gone he asked, \"Morgaine, will you rub my feet? Your hands are better than his.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Certainly. But you will have to sit in the chair.\"\n\nHe stretched out his hands and she gave him a tug upward. She placed a footstool under his feet and knelt beside it, chafing his thin, callused old feet until the blood rose to the surface and they looked alive again; then she fetched a flask and began to rub one of her herbal oils into the king's gnarled toes.\n\n\"You should have your man make you some new boots,\" she said. \"The crack in the old ones will make a sore there-see where it is blistered?\"\n\n\"But the old ones fit me so well, and boots are so stiff when they are new,\" he protested.\n\nMorgaine said, \"You must do as you like, my lord.\"\n\n\"No, no, you are right, as always,\" he said. \"I will tell the man tomorrow to come and measure my feet fora pair.\"\n\nMorgaine, putting away her flask of herbal oil and fetching a pair of shapeless old soft shoes, thought: I wonder if he knows that this maybe his last pair of boots, and that is why he is reluctant? She would not think about what the king's death would mean to her. She did not want to wish him dead-he had never been anything but kind to her. She slid the soft indoor slippers on his feet and stood up, wiping her hands on a towel. \"Is that better, my lord?\"\n\n\"Wonderful, my dear, thank you. No one can look after me the way you do,\" he said. Morgaine sighed. When he had the new boots he would have more trouble with his feet; they would, as he had rightly foreseen, be stiff, and that would make his feet just as sore as they were now. Perhaps he should stop riding and stay at home in his chair, but he would not do that." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She said, \"You should have Avalloch ride out to hear these cases. He must learn to rule over his people.\" His oldest son was the same age as she. He had waited long enough to rule, and Uriens looked like living forever.\n\n\"True, true-but if I do not go, they will think their king does not care for them,\" Uriens said. \"But perhaps when the roads are bad next winter I will do so....\"\n\n\"You had better,\" she said. \"If you have chilblains again, you could lose the use of your hands.\"\n\n\"The fact is, Morgaine,\" he said, smiling his good-natured smile at her, \"I am an old man, and there is nothing that can be done about it. Do you think there is roast pork for supper?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" she said, \"and some early cherries. I made sure of that.\"\n\n\"You area notable housekeeper, my dear,\" he said, and took her arm as they went out of the room. She thought, He thinks he is being kind to say so.\n\nThe household of Uriens was assembled already for the evening meal: Avalloch; Avalloch's wife, Maline, and their young children; Uwaine, lanky and dark, with his three young foster-brothers and the priest who was their tutor; and below them at the long table the men-at-arms and their ladies, and the upper servants. As Uriens and Morgaine took their seats and Morgaine signalled to the servants to bring food, Maline's younger child began to clamor and shout.\n\n\"Granny! I want to sit on Granny's knee! Want Granny to feed me!\"\n\nMaline-a slender, fair-haired, pale young woman, heavily pregnant-frowned and said, \"No, Conn, sit down prettily and be quiet!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But the child had already toddled to Morgaine's knee, and she laughed and lifted him up. I am an unlikely grandmother, she thought; Maline is almost as old as I. But Uriens\" grandsons were fond of her, and she hugged the little boy close, taking pleasure in the feel of the small curly head digging into her waist, the grubby little fingers clutching at her. She sliced bits of pork with her knife and fed them to Conn from her own plate, then cut him apiece of bread in the shape of a pig.\n\n\"See, now you have more pork to eat...\" she said, wiping her greasy fingers, and turned her attention to her own meal. She ate but little meat, even now; she soaked her bread in the meat juices, but no more. She was quickly finished, while the rest were still eating; she leaned back in her chair and began to sing softly to Conn, who curled up contentedly in her lap. After a time she grew aware that they were all listening to her, and she let her voice drop away.\n\n\"Please goon singing, Mother,\" Uwaine said, but she shook her head.\n\n\"No, I am tired-listen, what did I hear in the courtyard?\" She rose and signalled to one of the serving-men to light her to the doorway. Torch held high, he stood behind her, and she saw the rider come into the great courtyard. The serving-man stuck his torch into one of the wall brackets and hurried to help the rider dismount. \"My lord Accolon!\"\n\nHe came, his scarlet cape swirling behind him like a river of blood. \"Lady Morgaine,\" he said, with a deep bow, \"or should I say-my lady mother?\"\n\n\"Please do not,\" Morgaine said impatiently. \"Come in, Accolon, your father and brothers will be happy to see you.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"As you are not, lady?\"\n\nShe bit her lip, suddenly wondering if she would weep. She said, \"You area king's son, as I am a king's daughter. Do I have to remind you how such marriages are made? It was not my doing, Accolon, and when we spoke together, I had no idea-\" She stopped, and he looked down at her, then stooped over her hand.\n\nHe said so softly that even the serving-man did not hear, \"Poor Morgaine. I believe you, lady. Peace between us, then-Mother?\"\n\n\"Only if you do not call me Mother,\" she said, with a shred of a smile. \"I am not so old. It is well enough for Uwaine-\" and then, as they came back into the hall, Conn started upright and began to cry out again for'Granny!\" Morgaine laughed, mirthlessly, and went back to pickup the toddler. She was aware of Accolon's eyes on her; she cast her own down at the child in her lap, listening silently as Uriens greeted his son.\n\nAccolon came formally to embrace his brother, to bow before his brother's wife; he knelt and kissed his father's hand and then turned to Morgaine. She said shortly, \"Spare me further courtesies, Accolon, my hands are all pork fat, I have been holding the baby, and he is a messy feeder.\"\n\n\"As you command, madam,\" said Accolon, going to the table and taking the plate one of the serving-women brought to him. But while he ate and drank, she was still conscious of his eyes.\n\nI am sure he is still angry with me. Asking my hand in the morning, and in the evening, seeing me promised to his father; no doubt he thinks I succumbed to ambition-why marry the king's son if you can have the king?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No,\" she said firmly, giving Conn a little shake, \"if you are to stay in my lap you must be quiet and not paw at my dress with your greasy hands....\"\n\nWhen he saw me last I was clad in scarlet and I was the king's sister, reputed a witch... now I am a grandmother with a dirty child in my lap, looking after the housekeeping and nagging my old husband not to ride in mended boots which make his feet sore. Morgaine was acutely aware of every grey hair, every line in her face. In the name of the Goddess, why should I care what Accolon thinks of me? But she did care and she knew it; she was accustomed to having young men look at her and admire her, and now she felt that she was old, ugly, undesirable. She had never thought herself a beauty, but always before this she had been one of the younger people, and now she sat among the aging matrons. She hushed the child again, for Maline had asked Accolon what news of Arthur's court.\n\n\"There is no news of great doings,\" Accolon said. \"I think those days are over for our lifetime. Arthur's court is quiet, and the King still does penance for some unknown sin-he touches no wine, even at high feast days.\"\n\n\"Has the Queen yet shown any signs of bearing him an heir?\" Maline asked.\n\n\"None,\" said Accolon, \"though one of her ladies told me before the mock games that she thought the Queen might be pregnant.\"\n\nMaline turned to Morgaine and said, \"You knew the Queen well, did you not, mother-in-law?\"\n\n\"I did,\" said Morgaine, \"and as for that rumor, well, Gwenhwyfar always thinks herself pregnant if her courses come a day late.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The King is a fool,\" said Uriens. \"He should put her away and take some woman who would give him a son. I remember all too well what chaos ruled the land when they thought Uther would die with no son. Now the succession should be firmly established.\"\n\nAccolon said, \"I have heard that the King has named one of his cousins for his heir-the son of Lancelet. I like that not-Lancelet is the son of Ban of Benwick, and we want no foreign High Kings reigning over our own.\"\n\nMorgaine said firmly, \"Lancelet is the son of the Lady of Avalon, of the old royal line.\"\n\n\"Avalon!\" said Maline disdainfully. \"This is a Christian land. What is Avalon to us now?\"\n\n\"More than you think,\" said Accolon. \"I have heard that some of the country people, who remember the Pendragon, are not happy with so Christian a court as Arthur's, and remember that Arthur, before his crowning, took oath to stand with the folk of Avalon.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Morgaine, \"and he bears the great sword of the Holy Regalia of Avalon.\"\n\n\"The Christians seem not to hold that against him,\" Accolon said, \"and now I remember some news from the court-King Edric of the Saxons has turned Christian and came to be baptized, with all his retinue, at Glaston-bury, and he knelt and took oath before Arthur in token that all the Saxon lands accepted Arthur as High King.\"\n\n\"Arthur? King over Saxons? Will wonders never cease!\" Avalloch said. \"I always heard him say he would deal with the Saxons only at the point of his sword!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yet there he was, the Saxon king, kneeling in Glastonbury church, and Arthur hearing his oath and taking him by the hand,\" said Accolon. \"Perhaps he will marry the Saxon's daughter to the son of Lancelet and have done with all this fighting. And there sat the Merlin among Arthur's councillors, and one would have said he was as good a Christian as any of them!\"\n\n\"Gwenhwyfar must be happy now,\" said Morgaine. \"Always she said God had given Arthur the victory at Mount Badon because he bore the banner of the Holy Virgin. And later I heard her say that God had spared his life that he might bring the Saxons into the fold of the church.\"\n\nUriens shrugged and said, \"I do not think I would trust a Saxon behind me with an axe, even if he wore a bishop's miter!\"\n\n\"Nor I,\" said Avalloch, \"but if the Saxon chiefs are praying and doing penance for their souls' sake, at least they are not riding to burn our villages and abbeys. And as to penance and fasting-what, think you, can Arthur have on his conscience? When I rode with his armies, I was not among his Companions and knew him not so well, but he seemed an uncommon good man, and a penance of such length means some sin greater than common. Lady Morgaine, do you know, you who are his sister?\"\n\n\"His sister, not his cpnfessor.\" Morgaine knew her voice was sharp, and fell silent.\n\nUriens said, \"Any man who waged war for fifteen years among the Saxons must have more on his conscience than he cares to tell; but few are so tender of conscience as to think of it when the battle is past. All of us have known murder and ravage and blood and the slaughter of the innocent. But the battles are over for our lifetime, God grant, and having made our peace with men, we have leisure to make peace with God.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "So Arthur does penance still, and that old Archbishop Patricius still holds the mortgage on his soul! How, I wonder, does Gwenhwyfar enjoy that?\n\n\"Tell us more of the court,\" Maline begged. \"What of the Queen? What did she wear when she sat at court?\"\n\nAccolon laughed. \"I know nothing of ladies'garments. Something of white, with pearls-the Marhaus, the great Irish knight, brought them to her from the Irish king. And her cousin Elaine, I heard, has borne Lancelet a daughter-or was that last year? She had a son already, I think, that was chosen Arthur's heir. And there is some scandal in King Pellinore's court-it seems that his son, Lamorak, went on a mission to Lothian, and now speaks of marrying Lot's widow, old Queen Morgause-\"\n\nAvalloch chuckled. \"The boy must be mad. Morgause is fifty, at least, maybe more!\"\n\n\"Five-and-forty,\" Morgaine said. \"She is ten years older than I.\" And she wondered why she thus turned the knife in her own wound... do I want Accolon to realize how old I am, grandmother to Uriens' brood...?\n\n\"He is mad indeed,\" Accolon said, \"singing ballads, and carrying about the lady's garter and such nonsense-\"\n\n\"I should think that same garter would make a horse's halter by now,\" said Uriens, and Accolon shook his head.\n\n\"No-I have seen Lot's lady and she is a beautiful woman still. She is not a girl, but she seems all the more beautiful for that. What I wonder is, what can the woman want with a raw boy like that? Lamorak is not more than twenty.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Or what can a boy like that want with the old lady?\" Avalloch insisted.\n\n\"Perhaps,\" said Uriens, with a ribald laugh, \"the lady is well learned at sport among the cushions. Though one would hardly think she could have learned it, married all those years to old Lot! But no doubt she had other teachers....\"\n\nMaline flushed and said, \"Please! Is this talk seemly in a Christian household?\"\n\nUriens said, \"If it were not, daughter-in-law, I doubt your girdle would be grown so wide.\"\n\n\"I am a married woman,\" said Maline, crimson.\n\nMorgaine said sharply, \"If to be a Christian household means not to speak of what one is not ashamed to do, then the Lady forbid I should ever call myself Christian!\"\n\n\"Still,\" said Avalloch, \"perhaps it is ill done to sit here at meat and tell ugly stories about lady Morgaine's kinswoman.\"\n\nAccolon said, \"Queen Morgause has no husband to be offended, and the lady is of age, and her own mistress. No doubt her sons are well pleased that she contents herself with a paramour and does not marry the boy! Is she not also the Duchess of Cornwall?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Morgaine, \"Igraine was Duchess of Cornwall after Gorlois was set down for his treason to Pendragon. Gorlois had no son, and since Uther gave Tintagel to Igraine for bride-gift, I suppose now it belongs tome.\" And Morgaine was suddenly overcome with homesickness for that half-remembered country, the bleak outline of castle and crags against the sky, the sudden dips into hidden valleys, the eternal noise of the sea below the castle... Tintagel! My home! I cannot return to Avalon, but I am not homeless... Cornwallis mine." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And under the Roman law,\" said Uriens, \"I suppose, as your husband, my dear, I am Duke of Cornwall.\"\n\nAgain Morgaine felt the surge of violent anger. Only when I am dead and buried, she thought. Uriens cares nothing for Cornwall, only that Tintagel, like myself, is his property, bearing the mark of his ownership! Would that I could go there, live there alone as Morgause at Lothian, my own mistress with none to command me.... A picture came in her mind, the queen's chamber at Tintagel, and she seemed very small, she was playing with an old spindle on the floor.... If Uriens dares to lay claim to an acre of Cornwall, I will give him six feet of it, and dirt between his teeth!\n\n\"Tell me now your news of this country,\" said Accolon. \"The spring was late-I seethe plowmen are just getting into the fields.\"\n\n\"But they have nearly done with plowing,\" said Maline, \"and Sunday they will go to bless the fields-\"\n\n\"And they are choosing the Spring Maiden,\" said Uwaine. \"I was down in the village, and I saw them choosing among all the pretty girls... you were not here last year, Mother,\" he said to Morgaine. \"They choose the prettiest of all for the Spring Maiden, and she walks in the procession around the fields when the priest comes to bless it... and there are dancers who dance round the fields... and they carry an image made from the last harvest, made from the barley straw. Father Eian does not like that,\" he said, \"but I don't know why not, it is so pretty....\"\n\nThe priest coughed and said self-consciously, \"The blessing of the church should be enough-why should we need more than the word of God to make the fields grow and blossom? The straw image they carry is a memory of the bad old days when men and animals were burned alive so that their lives should make the fields fertile, and the Spring Maiden a memory of-well, I will not speak before children of that evil and idolatrous custom!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There was a day,\" said Accolon, speaking directly to Morgaine, \"when the queen of the land was the Spring Maiden, and the Harvest Lady as well, and she did that office in the fields, that the fields might have life and fertility.\" Morgaine saw at his wrists the faint blue shadow of the serpents of Avalon.\n\nMaline made the sign of the cross and said primly, \"God be thanked that we live among civilized men.\"\n\nAccolon said, \"I doubt you would be asked to do that office, sister-in-law.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Uwaine, tactless as any boy, \"she is not pretty enough. But our mother is, isn't she, Accolon?\"\n\n\"I am glad you think my queen is handsome,\" said Uriens hastily, \"but the past is past-we do not burn cats and sheep alive in the fields, nor kill the king's scapegoat to scatter his blood there, and it is no longer needful that the queen should bless the fields in that way.\"\n\nNo, thought Morgaine. Now all is sterile, now we have priests with their crosses, forbidding the lighting of the fires of fertility-it is a miracle the Lady does not blight the fields of grain, since she is angry at being denied her due....\n\nSoon after, the household went to rest; Morgaine, the last to rise from her seat, went to supervise the locks and bars, and then went, with a small lamp in her hand, to make sure Accolon had been given a good bed-Uwaine and his foster-brothers were now occupying the room that had been his when he lived here as a boy.\n\n\"Is all well with you here?\"\n\n\"Everything I could desire,\" said Accolon, \"except a lady to grace my chamber. My father is a fortunate man, lady. And you well deserve to be the wife of a king, not of, a king's younger son.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Must you always taunt me?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "she burst out. \"I have told you; I was given no choice!\"\n\n\"You were pledged tome!\"\n\nMorgaine knew that the color was leaving her face. She set her lips like stone. \"Done is done, Accolon.\"\n\nShe lifted her lamp and turned away. He said behind her, almost a threat, \"This is not done between us, lady.\"\n\nMorgaine did not speak; she hurried along the corridor to the chamber she shared with Uriens. Her lady-in-waiting was ready to unlace her gown, but she sent the woman away. Uriens sat on the edge of the bed, groaning.\n\n\"Even those slippers are too hard on my feet! Aaah, it is good to go to rest!\"\n\n\"Rest well, then, my lord.\"\n\n\"No,\" he said, and pulled her down at his side. \"So tomorrow the fields are to be blessed... and perhaps we should be grateful we live in a civilized land, and the king and the queen need no longer bless the fields by lying together in public. But on the eve of the blessing, dear lady, perhaps we should have our own blessing, private in our chamber-what would you say to that?\"\n\nMorgaine sighed. She had been scrupulously careful of her aging husband's pride; never did she make him feel less than a man for his occasional and clumsy use of her body. But Accolon had roused in her an anguished memory of her years in Avalon-the torches borne to the top of the Tor, the Beltane fires lighted and the maidens waiting in the plowed fields... and tonight she had had to hear a shabby priest mocking what was, to her, holy beyond holiness. Now even Uriens, it seemed, made a mockery of it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I would say that such blessing as you and I might give the fields would be better left undone. I am old and barren, and you are not such a king as can give much life to the fields, either!\"\n\nUriens stared at her. In all the year of their marriage she had never spoken a harsh word to him. He was too startled even to reproach her.\n\n\"I doubt it not, you are right,\" he said quietly. \"Well, then, we will leave that to the young people. Come to bed, Morgaine.\" But when she lay down beside him, he lay quiet, and after a moment, he put ashy arm across her shoulders. Now Morgaine was regretting her harsh words... she felt cold and alone, she lay biting her lip so that she would not cry, but when Uriens spoke to her, she pretended she was asleep.\n\nMIDSUMMER DAWNED brilliant and beautiful; Morgaine, waking early, realized that, however much she might say to herself that the sun tides ran no longer in her blood, there was something within her that ran heavy with the summer. As she dressed, she looked dispassionately at the sleeping form of her husband.\n\nShe had been a fool. Why should she have accepted compliantly Arthur's word, fearing to embarrass him before his fellow kings? If he could not keep his throne without a woman's help it might be he did not deserve to hold it. He was a traitor to Avalon, an apostate; he had given her into the hands of another apostate. Yet she had meekly agreed to what they had planned for her.\n\nIgraine let her life be used for their politics. And something in Morgaine, dead or sleeping since the day she fled forth from Avalon, bearing Gwydion within her womb, suddenly woke and stirred, moving sluggishly and slow like a sleeping dragon, a movement as secret and unseen as the first movements of a child in the womb; something that said, clear and quiet within her, If I would not let Viviane, whom I loved, use me this way, why should I bow my head meekly and let myself be used for Arthur's purposes? I am queen in North Wales, and I am duchess in Cornwall, where Gorlois's name still means something, and I am of the royal line of Avalon." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Uriens groaned, heaving himself stiffly over. \"Ah, God, I ache in every muscle and there is a toothache in every toe of my foot-I rode too far yesterday. Morgaine, will you rub my back?\"\n\nShe started to fling back furiously, You have a dozen body servants, and I am your wife, not your slave, then stopped herself; instead she smiled and said, \"Yes, of course,\" and sent a pageboy for her vials of herbal oil. Let him think her still compliant to everything; healing was apart of a priestess's work. If it was the smallest part, still, it gave her access to his plans and his thoughts. She rubbed his back and kneaded salve into his sore feet, listening to the small details of the land dispute he had ridden out yesterday to settle. For Uriens, any woman could be queen, he wants only a smiling face and kind hands to cosset him. Well, he shall have them while it suits my purpose.\n\n\"And now it looks as if we would have a fine day for the blessing of the crops. We never have rain at Midsummer-day,\" Uriens said. \"The Lady shines on her fields when they are consecrated to her-that is what they used to say when I was young and a pagan, that the Great Marriage could not be consummated in the rain.\" He chuckled. \"Still, I remember once when I was very young, when the fields had been rained on for ten days, and the priestess and I might have been pigs wallowing in the mud!\"\n\nAgainst her will, Morgaine smiled; the picture he made in her mind was ludicrous. \"Even in ritual, the Goddess will have her joke,\" she said, \"and one of her names is the Great Sow, and we are all her piglets.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Ah, Morgaine, those were good times,\" he said, then his face tightened. \"Of course, that was long ago-now what the folk want in their kings is dignity. Those days are gone, and forever.\"\n\nAre they? I wonder. But Morgaine said nothing. It occurred to her that Uriens, when he was younger, might have been a king strong enough to resist the tide of Christianity washing over the land. If Viviane had tried harder to put a king on the throne who was not bound hard and fast to the rule of the priests... but of course, who could have foreseen that Gwenhwyfar would be pious beyond all reason? And why had the Merlin done nothing?\n\nIf the Merlin of Britain and the wise folk at Avalon had done nothing to stem this tide that was drowning the land and washing away all the old ways and the old Gods, why should she blame Uriens, who was after all only an old man, and wanted peace? There was no reason to make him an enemy. If he was content, it would not matter to him what she did... she did not know yet what she meant to do. But she knew that her days of silent compliance were over.\n\nShe said, \"I wish I had known you then,\" and let him kiss heron the forehead.\n\nIf I had been married to him when first I became marriageable, North Wales might never have become a Christian land. But it is not too late. There are those who have not forgotten that the king still wears, however faded, the serpents of Avalon about his arms. And he has married one who was a High Priestess of the Lady.\n\nI could have done her work better here than all those years at Arthur's court, in Gwenhwyfar's shadow. It occurred to Morgaine that Gwenhwyfar would have been content with a husband like Uriens, whom she could keep within her own sphere, rather than one like Arthur, living an entire life in which she had no part." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And there had been a time, too, when Morgaine had had influence with Arthur-the influence of the woman he had first taken incoming to manhood, who wore, for him, the face of the Goddess. Yet, in her folly and pride, she had let him fall into the hands of Gwenhwyfar and the priests. Now, when it was too late, she began to understand what Viviane had intended.\n\nBetween us, we could have ruled this land; they would have called Gwenhwyfar the High Queen, but she would have had Arthur only in body; he would have been mine in heart and soul and mind. Ah, what a fool I was.... He and I could have ruled-for Avalon! Now Arthur is the priests' creature. And he bears, still, the great sword of the Druid Regalia, and the Merlin of Britain does nothing to hinder him.\n\nI must take up the work that Viviane let fall....\n\nAh, Goddess, I have forgotten so much....\n\nAnd then she stopped, shaking at her own daring. Uriens had reached a pause in his tale; she had ceased rubbing his feet, and he looked down questioning at her, and she said hastily, \"I am quite sure you did the right thing, my dear husband,\" and spread some more of the sweet-smelling salve on her hands. She had not the slightest idea what she had agreed to, but Uriens smiled and went on with his tale, and Morgaine slid off into her own thoughts again.\n\nI am a priestess still. Strange how I am suddenly sure of that again, after all these years, when even the dreams of Avalon are gone.\n\nShe pondered what Accolon had told them. Elaine had borne a daughter. She herself could not give Avalon a daughter, but as Viviane had done, she would bring her a fosterling. She helped Uriens to dress, went down with him, and with her own hands fetched him fresh new-baked bread from the kitchen and some of the foaming new beer. She served him, spreading honey on his bread. Let him think her the most doting of his subjects, let him think her only his sweet compliant wife. It meant nothing to her, but one day it might mean much to have his trust, so that she could do what she chose." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "As the author's co-writer, advance the plot.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 10" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And there had been a time, too, when Morgaine had had influence with Arthur-the influence of the woman he had first taken incoming to manhood, who wore, for him, the face of the Goddess. Yet, in her folly and pride, she had let him fall into the hands of Gwenhwyfar and the priests. Now, when it was too late, she began to understand what Viviane had intended.\n\nBetween us, we could have ruled this land; they would have called Gwenhwyfar the High Queen, but she would have had Arthur only in body; he would have been mine in heart and soul and mind. Ah, what a fool I was.... He and I could have ruled-for Avalon! Now Arthur is the priests' creature. And he bears, still, the great sword of the Druid Regalia, and the Merlin of Britain does nothing to hinder him.\n\nI must take up the work that Viviane let fall....\n\nAh, Goddess, I have forgotten so much....\n\nAnd then she stopped, shaking at her own daring. Uriens had reached a pause in his tale; she had ceased rubbing his feet, and he looked down questioning at her, and she said hastily, \"I am quite sure you did the right thing, my dear husband,\" and spread some more of the sweet-smelling salve on her hands. She had not the slightest idea what she had agreed to, but Uriens smiled and went on with his tale, and Morgaine slid off into her own thoughts again.\n\nI am a priestess still. Strange how I am suddenly sure of that again, after all these years, when even the dreams of Avalon are gone.\n\nShe pondered what Accolon had told them. Elaine had borne a daughter. She herself could not give Avalon a daughter, but as Viviane had done, she would bring her a fosterling. She helped Uriens to dress, went down with him, and with her own hands fetched him fresh new-baked bread from the kitchen and some of the foaming new beer. She served him, spreading honey on his bread. Let him think her the most doting of his subjects, let him think her only his sweet compliant wife. It meant nothing to her, but one day it might mean much to have his trust, so that she could do what she chose." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Even with the summer my old bones ache-I think, Morgaine, that I will ride south to Aquae Sulis and take the waters there. There is an ancient shrine to Sul-when the Romans were here they built a huge bathhouse, and some of it is still there, unfallen. The great pools are choked, and when the Saxons came they carried off much of the fine work, and threw down the statue of the Goddess, but the spring is still there, undamaged-boiling up in clouds of steam, day after day and year after year, from the forges at the center of the earth. It is awesome to behold! And there are hot pools where a man can soak all the weariness from his bones. I have not been therefor two or three years, but I shall go again, now the countryside is quiet.\"\n\n\"I see no reason you should not,\" she agreed, \"now there is peace in the land.\"\n\n\"Would you care to go with me, my dear? We can leave my sons to care for everything here, and the old shrine would interest you.\"\n\n\"I would like to seethe shrine,\" she said, sincerely enough. She thought of the cold unfailing waters of the Holy Well on Avalon, bubbling up inexhaustible, forever, sourceless, cool, clear.... \"Still, I do not know if it would be well to leave all things in your sons' hands. Avalloch is a fool. Accolon is clever, but he is only a younger son-I do not know if your people would listen to him. Perhaps if I were here, Avalloch would take counsel of his younger brother.\"\n\n\"An excellent idea, my dear,\" Uriens said sunnily, \"and in any case it would be along journey for you. If you are here I will not have the slightest hesitation in leaving all things to the young men-I will tell them they must come to you for good advice in all things.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"And when will you set forth?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It would not beat all a bad thing, Morgaine thought, if it were known that Uriens did not hesitate to leave his kingdom in her hands.\n\n\"Tomorrow, perhaps. Or even after the blessing of the crops this day. Will you have them pack my things?\"\n\n\"Are you sure you can travel that long a road? It is not an easy ride even fora young man-\"\n\n\"Come, come, my dear, I am not yet too old to ride,\" he said, frowning a little, \"and I am sure the waters will dome good.\"\n\n\"I am sure they will.\" Morgaine rose, leaving her own breakfast almost untasted. \"Let me call your body servant and have everything made ready for you to depart.\"\n\nShe stood at his side during the long procession around the fields, standing on a little hill above the village and watching the capering dancers, like young goats... she wondered if any of them so much as knew the significance of the phallic green wands wound about with red and white garlands, and the pretty girl with her hair streaming, who walked, serene and indifferent, among them. She was fresh and young, not fourteen, and her hair was coppery gold, streaming halfway between her waist and knees; and she had on a gown, dyed green, that looked very old. Did any of them know what they were watching, or seethe incongruity of the priest's procession, following them, two boys in black carrying candles and crosses, and the priest intoning the prayers in his bad Latin; Morgaine spoke better Latin than he!\n\nThese priests hate fertility and life so much, it is a miracle their so-called blessing does not blast the fields sterile-\n\nIt was like an answer from her own mind when a voice spoke softly behind her. \"I wonder, lady, if any here save ourselves truly know what they are watching?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Accolon took her arm fora moment to help her over a rough clump of the plowed land, and she saw again the serpents, fresh and blue along his wrists.\n\n\"King Uriens knows and has tried to forget. That seems tome a worse blasphemy than not to know at all.\"\n\nShe had expected that would make him angry; had, in away, been inviting it. With Accolon's strong hands on her arm, she felt the strong hunger, the inner leap... he was young, he was a virile man, and she-she was the aging wife of his old father... and the eyes of Uriens\" subjects were on them, and the eyes of his family and his house priest! She could not even speak freely, she must treat him with cold detachment: her stepson! If Accolon said anything kind or pitying, she would scream aloud, would tear at her hair, at her face and flesh with her nails....\n\nBut Accolon only said, in a voice that could not have been overheard three feet away, \"Perhaps it is enough for the Lady that we know, Morgaine. The Goddess will not fail us while a single worshipper gives her what is due.\"\n\nFora moment she looked round at him. His eyes were dwelling on her, and although his hands on hers were careful, courteous, detached, it seemed that heat ran upward from them into her whole body. She was suddenly frightened and wanted to pull away.\n\nI am his father's wife and of all women I am the one most forbidden to him. I am more forbidden to him, in this Christian land, than I was to Arthur.\n\nAnd then a memory from Avalon surfaced in her mind, something she had not thought of fora decade; one of the Druids, giving instruction in the secret wisdom to the young priestesses, had said, If you would have the message of the Gods to direct your life, look for that which repeats, again and again; for this is the message given you by the Gods, the karmic lesson you must learn for this incarnation. It comes again and again until you have made it part of your soul and your enduring spirit." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "What has come tome again and again...?\n\nEvery man she had desired had been too close kin to her-Lancelet, who was the son of her foster-mother; Arthur, her own mother's son; now the son of her husband...\n\nBut they are too close kin tome only by the laws made by the Christians who seek to rule this land... to rule it in anew tyranny; not alone to make the laws but to rule the mind and heart and soul. Am I living out in my own life all the tyranny of that law, so I as priestess may know why it must be overthrown?\n\nShe discovered that her hands, still tightly held in Accolon's, were trembling. She said, trying to collect her scattered thoughts, \"Do you truly believe that the Goddess would withdraw her life from this earth if the folk who dwell here should no longer give her her due?\"\n\nIt was the sort of remark that might have been made, priestess to priest, in Avalon. Morgaine knew, as well as anyone, that the true answer to that question was that the Gods were what they were, and did their will upon the earth regardless of whether man regarded their doing one way or the other. But Accolon said, with a curious animal flash of white teeth in a grin, \"Then must we make it sure, lady, that she should always be given her due, lest the life of the world fail.\" And then he addressed her by a name never spoken except by priest to priestess in ritual, and Morgaine felt her heart beating so hard she was dizzy.\n\nLest the life of the world fail. Lest my life fail within me... he has called on me in the name of the Goddess....\n\n\"Be still,\" she said, distracted. \"This is neither the time nor the place for such talk.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"No?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They had come to the edge of the rough ground. He let goof her hand and somehow her own felt cold without it. Ahead of them the masked dancers shook their phallic wands and capered, and the Spring Maiden, her longhair buffeted and tangled by the breeze, was going around the circle of the dancers, exchanging a kiss with each-a ritualized, formal kiss, where her lips barely touched each cheek. Uriens beckoned Morgaine impatiently to his side; she moved stiffly and cold, feeling the spot on her wrists where Accolon had held her as a spot of heat on her icy body.\n\nUriens said fussily, \"It is your part, my dear, to give out these things to the dancers who have entertained us this day.\" He motioned to a servant, who filled Morgaine's hands with sweets and candied fruits; she tossed them to the dancers and the spectators, who scrambled for them, laughing and pushing. Always mockery of the sacred things... a memory of the day when the folk scrambled for bits of the flesh and blood of the sacrifice.... Let the rite be forgotten, but not mocked this way! Again and yet again they filled her hands with the sweets, and again and again she tossed them into the crowd. They saw no more in the rite than dancers who had entertained them; had they all forgotten? The Spring Maiden came up to Morgaine, laughing and flushed with innocent pride; Morgaine saw now that although she was lovely, her eyes were shallow, her hands thick and stubby with work in the fields. She was only a pretty peasant girl trying to do the work of a priestess, without the slightest idea what she was doing; it was folly to resent her.\n\nYet she is a woman, doing the Mother's work in the best way she has ever been told; it is not her fault that she was not schooled in Avalon for the great work. Morgaine did not quite know what was expected of her, but as the girl knelt fora moment before the Queen, Morgaine took on the half-forgotten stance of a priestess in blessing, and felt for an instant the old awareness of something shadowing her, above her, beyond... she laid her hands fora moment on the girl's brow, felt the momentary flow of power between them, and the girl's rather stupid face was transfigured fora moment. The Goddess works in her, too, Morgaine thought, and then she saw Accolon's face; he was looking at her in wonder and awe. She had seen that look before, when she brought down the mists from Avalon... and the awareness of power flooded her, as if she were suddenly reborn." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I am alive again. After all these years, I am a priestess again, and it was Accolon who brought it back tome....\n\nAnd then the tension of the moment broke, and the girl backed away, stumbling over her feet, and dropping a clumsy curtsey to the royal party. Uriens distributed coins to the dancers and a somewhat larger gift to the village priest for candles to burn in his church, and the royal party went homeward. Morgaine walked sedately at Uriens' side, her face a mask, but inwardly seething with life. Her stepson Uwaine came and walked beside her.\n\n\"It was prettier than usual this year, Mother. Shanna is so lovely-the Spring Maiden, the daughter of the blacksmith Euan. But you, Mother, when you were blessing her, you looked so beautiful, you should have been the Spring Maiden yourself-\"\n\n\"Come, come,\" she chided the boy, laughing. \"Do you really think I could dress in green with my hair flying, and dance all round the plowed fields that way? And I am no maiden!\"\n\n\"No,\" said Uwaine, surveying her with along look, \"but you looked like the Goddess. Father Eian says that the Goddess was really a demon who came to keep the folk from serving the good Christ, but do you know what I think? I think that the Goddess was here for people to worship before they were taught how to worship the holy mother of Christ.\"\n\nAccolon was walking beside them. He said, \"Before the Christ, the Goddess was, and it will not hurt if you think of her as Mary, Uwaine. You should always do service to the Lady, under whatever name. But I would not advise you to speak much about this to Father Eian.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Oh no,\" said the boy, his eyes wide." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"He does not approve of women, even when they are Goddesses.\"\n\n\"I wonder what he thinks of queens?\" Morgaine murmured. Then they had arrived back at the castle and Morgaine had to see to King Uriens' travelling things, and in the confusion of the day, she let the new insights slide into the back of her mind, knowing that later she would have to consider all this most seriously.\n\nUriens rode away after midday, with his men-at-arms and a body servant or two, taking leave of Morgaine tenderly with a kiss, counselling his son Avalloch to listen to Accolon's counsel and that of the queen in all things. Uwaine was sulking; he wanted to go with his father, whom he adored, but Uriens would not be troubled with a child in the party. Morgaine had to comfort him, promise some special treat for him while his father was away. But at last all was quiet, and Morgaine could sit alone before the fire in the great hall-Maline had taken her children off to bed-and think of all that had befallen her that day.\n\nIt was twilight outside, the long evening of Midsummer. Morgaine had taken her spindle and distaff in her hand, but she was only pretending to spin, twirling it once in awhile and drawing out a little thread; she disliked spinning as much as ever, and one of the few things she had asked of Uriens was that she might employ two extra spinning women so that she would be free of that detested task; she did twice her share of the household weaving in its stead. She dared not spin; it would throw her into that strange state between sleep and waking, and she feared what she might see. So now she only twirled the spindle now and again, that none of the servants would see her sitting with her hands idle... not that anyone would have the right to reproach her, she was busy early and late...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The room was darkening, a few slashes of crimson light from the setting sun still brilliant, darkening the corners by contrast. Morgaine narrowed her eyes, thinking of the red sun setting over the ring stones on the Tor, of the priestesses walking in train behind the red torchlight, spilling it into the shadows... fora moment Raven's face flickered before her, silent, enigmatic, and it seemed that Raven opened her silent lips and spoke her name... faces floated before her in the twilight: Elaine, her hair all unbound as the torchlight caught her in Lancelet's bed; Gwenhwyfar, angry and triumphant at Morgaine's wedding; the calm, still face of the strange woman with braided fair hair, the woman she had seen only in dreams, Lady of Avalon... Raven again, frightened, entreating... Arthur, bearing a candle of penitence as he walked among his subjects... oh, but the priests would never dare force the King to public penance, would they? And then she saw the barge of Avalon, draped all in black fora funeral, and her own face like a reflection on the mists, mirrored there, with three other women draped all in black like the barge, and a wounded man lying white and still in her lap-\n\nTorchlight flared crimson across the darkroom, and a voice said, \"Are you trying to spin in the dark, Mother?\"\n\nConfused by the light, Morgaine looked up and said peevishly, \"I have told you not to call me that!\"\n\nAccolon put the torch into a bracket, and came to sit at her feet. \"The Goddess is Mother to us all, lady, and I acknowledge you as such....\"\n\n\"Are you mocking me?\" Morgaine demanded, agitated." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I do not mock.\" As Accolon knelt close to her, his lips trembled. \"I saw your face today. Would I mock that-wearing these?\" He thrust out his arms, and by a trick of the light, the blue serpents dyed on his wrists seemed to writhe and thrust up their painted heads. \"Lady, Mother, Goddess-\" His painted arms went out around her waist, and he buried his head in her lap. He muttered, \"Yours is the face of the Goddess tome....\"\n\nAs if she moved in a dream, Morgaine putout her hands to him, bending to kiss the back of his neck where the soft hair curled. Part of her was wondering, frightened, What am I doing? Is it only that he has called on me in the name of the Goddess, priest to priestess? Or is it only that when he touches me, speaks tome, I feel myself woman and alive again after all this time when I have felt myself old, barren, half dead in this marriage to a dead man and a dead life? Accolon raised his face to her, kissed her full on the lips. Morgaine, yielding to the kiss, felt herself melting, opened, a shudder, half pain half pleasure, running through her as his tongue against hers shot waking memories through her whole body... so long, so long, this long year when her body had been deadened, never letting itself wake lest it be aware of what Uriens was doing.... She thought, defiant, I am a priestess, my body is mine to be given in homage to her! What I did with Uriens was the sin, the submission to lust! This is true and holy....\n\nHis faands trembled on her body; but when he spoke, his voice was quiet and practical.\n\n\"I think all the castle folk are abed. I knew you would be here waiting for me....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Fora moment Morgaine resented his certainty; then she bowed her head." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They were in the hands of the Goddess and she would not refuse the flow that carried heron, like a river; long, long, she had only whirled about in a backwater, and now she was washed clean into the current of life again. \"Where is Avalloch?\"\n\nHe laughed shortly. \"He is gone down to the village to lie with the Spring Maiden... it is one of our customs that the village priest does not know. Ever, since our father was old and we were grown men, it has been so, and Avalloch does not think it incompatible with his duty as a Christian man, to be the father of his people, or as many of them as possible, like Uriens himself in his youth. Avalloch offered to cast lots with me for the privilege, and I had started to do so, then I remembered your hands blessing her, and knew where my true homage lay....\"\n\nShe murmured half in protest, \"Avalon is so faraway...\"\n\nHe said, with his face against her breast, \"But she is everywhere.\"\n\nMorgaine whispered, \"So be it,\" and rose. She pulled him upright with her and made a half turn toward the stairs, then stopped. No, not here; there was not abed in this castle that they could honorably share. And the Druid maxim returned to her, Can that which was never made nor created by Man, be worshipped under a roof made by human hands?\n\nOut, then, into the night. As they stepped into the empty courtyard, a falling star rushed downward across the sky, so swiftly that for an instant it seemed to Morgaine that the heavens reeled and the earth moved backward under her feet... then it was gone, leaving their eyes dazzled. A portent. The Goddess welcomes me back to herself...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Come,\" she whispered, her hand in Accolon's, and led him upward to the orchard, where the white ghosts of blossom drifted in the darkness and fell around them. She spread her cloak on the grass, like a magic circle under the sky; held out her arms and whispered, \"Come.\"\n\nThe dark shadow of his body over her blotted out the sky and the stars.\n\nMORGAINE SPEAKS...\n\nEven as we lay together under the stars that Midsummer, I knew that what we had done was not so much lovemaking as a magical act of passionate power; that his hands, the touch of his body, were reconsecrating me priestess, and that it washer will. Blind as I was to all at that moment, I heard around us in the summer night the sound of whispers and I knew that we were not alone.\n\nHe would have held me in his arms, but I rose, driven on by whatever power held me now at this hour, and raised my hands above my head, bringing them down slowly, my eyes closed, my breath held in the tension of power... and only when I heard him gasp in awe did I venture to open my eyes, to see his body rimmed with that same faint light which edged my own.\n\nIt is done and she is with me.... Mother, I am unworthy in thy sight... but now it has come again.... 7 held my breath to keep from breaking out into wild weeping. After all these years, after my own betrayal and my faithlessness, she has come again tome and I am priestess once more. A pale glimmer of moonlight showed me, at the edge of the field where we lay, though I saw not even a shadow, the glimmer of eyes like some animal in the hedgerow. We were not alone, the little people of the hills had known where we were and what she wrought here, and come to seethe consummation unknown here since Uriens grew old and the world had turned grey and Christian. I heard the echo of a reverent whisper and returned it in a tongue of which I knew less than a dozen words, just audible where I stood and where Accolon still knelt in reverence." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It is done; so let it be!\"\n\nI bent and kissed him on the brow, repeating, \"It is done. Go, my dear; be thou blessed.\"\n\nHe would have stayed, I know, had I been the woman with whom he had come into that garden; but before the priestess he went silent away, not questioning the word of the Goddess.\n\nThere was no sleep for me that night. Alone, I walked in the garden till dawn, and I knew already, shaking with terror, what must be done. I did not know how, or whether, alone, I could do what I had begun, but as I had been made priestess so many years ago and renounced it, so must I retrace my steps alone. This night I had been given a great grace; but I knew there would be no more signs for me and no help given until I had made myself, alone, unaided, again the priestess I had been trained to be.\n\nI bore still on my brow, faded beneath that housewifely coif Uriens would have me wear, the sign of her grace, but that would not help me now. Gazing at the fading stars, I did not know whether or no the rising sun would surprise meat my vigil; the sun tides had not run in my blood for half a lifetime, and I no longer knew the precise place on the eastern horizon where I should turn to salute the sun at its rising. I knew not, anymore, even how the moon-tides ran with the cycles of my body... so far had I come from the training of Avalon. Alone, with no more than a fading memory, I must somehow recapture all the things I had once known as part of myself.\n\nBefore dawn I went silently indoors, and moving in the dark, found for myself the one token I had of Avalon-the little sickle knife I had taken from Viviane's dead body, a knife like the one I had borne as priestess and had abandoned in Avalon when I fled from there. I bound it silently around my waist, beneath my outer garments; it would never leave my side again and it would be buried with me." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I wore it thus, hidden there, the only memory I could keep of that night. I did not even paint the crescent anew on my brow, partly because of Uriens-he would have questioned it-and partly because I knew I was not, yet, worthy to bear it; I would not have worn the crescent as he wore the faded serpents about his arms, an ornament and a half-forgotten reminder of what once he had been and was no more. Over these next months and as they stretched into years, one part of me moved like a painted doll through the duties he demanded of me-spinning and weaving, making herbal medicines, looking to the needs of son and grandson, listening to my husband's talk, embroidering him fine clothes and tending him in sickness... all these things I did without much thought, with the very surface of my mind and a body gone numb for those times when he took brief and distasteful possession of it.\n\nBut the knife was thereto touch now and again for reassurance as I learned again to count sun tides from equinox to solstice and back to equinox again... count them painfully on my fingers like a child or a novice priestess; it was years before I could feel them running in my blood again, or know to a hairline's difference whereon the horizon moon or sun would rise or set for the salutations I learned again to make. Again, late at night while the household lay sleeping round me, I would study the stars, letting their influence move in my blood as they wheeled and swung around me until I became only a pivot point on the motionless earth, center of the whirling dance around and above me, the spiraling movement of the seasons. I rose early and slept late so that I might find hours to range into the hills, on pretext of seeking root and herb for medicines, and there I sought out the old lines of force, tracing them from standing stone to hammer pool... it was weary work and it was years before I knew even a few of them near to Uriens\" castle." }, { "from": "human", "value": "But even in that first year, when I struggled with fading memory, trying to recapture what I had known so many years ago, I knew my vigils were not unshared." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I was never unattended, though never did I see more than I had seen that first night, the gleam of an eye in the darkness, a flicker of motion out of the corner of my eyes... they were seldom seen, even herein the far hills, anywhere in village and field; they lived their own life secretly in deserted hills and forests where they had fled when the Romans came. But I knew they were there, that the little folk who had never lost sight of Her watched over me.\n\nOnce in the far hills I found a ring of stones, not a great one like that which stood on the Tor at Avalon, nor the greater one which had once been Temple of the Sun on the great chalk plains; here the stones were no more than shoulder-high even on me (and I am not tall) and the circle no greater than the height of a tall man. A small slab of stone, the stains faded and overgrown with lichens, was half-buried in the grass at the center. I pulled it free of weed and lichen-, and as I did whenever I could find food unseen in the kitchens, left for her people such things as I knew seldom came to them-a slab of barley bread, a bit of cheese, a lump of butter. And once when I went there I found at the very center of the stones a garland of the scented flowers which grew on the border of the fairy country; dried, they would never fade. When next I took Accolon out of doors when the moon was full, I wore them tied about my brow as we came together in that solemn joining which swept away the individual and made us only Goddess and God, affirming the endless life of the cosmos, the flow of power between male and female as between earth and sky. After that I went never unattended beyond my own garden. I knew better than to look for them directly, but they were there and I knew they would be there if I needed them. It was not for nothing that I had been given that old name, Morgaine of the Fairies... and now they acknowledged meas their priestess and their queen." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I came to the stone circle, walking by night, when the harvest moon sank low in the sky and the breath of the fourth winter grew cold on the eve of the Day of the Dead. There, wrapped in my cloak and shivering through the night, I kept the vigil, fasting; snow was drifting out of the sky when I rose and turned my steps homeward, but as I left the circle I turned my foot on a stone which had not been there when I came thither, and, bending my head, I saw the pattern of white stones arranged.\n\n: :\n\n:\n\n: :\n\nI bent, moving one stone to make the next in sequence of the magical numbers-the tides had shifted and now we were under the winter's stars. Then I went home, shivering, to tell a story of being benighted in the hills and sleeping in an empty shepherd's hut-Uriens had been frightened by the snow, and sent two men to seek me. Snow, lying deep on the mountainsides, kept me within doors much of the winter, but I knew when the storms would lift and risked the journey to the ring stones at Midwinter, knowing the stones would be clear... snow lay never within the great circles, I knew, and I guessed that it would be so herein the smaller circles, where magic was still done.\n\nAnd thereat the very center of the circle I saw a tiny bundle-a scrap of leather tied with sinew. My fingers were recapturing their old skill and did not fumble as I untied it and rolled the contents into my palm. They looked like a couple of dried seeds, but they were the tiny mushrooms which grew so rarely near Avalon. They were no use as food, and most folk thought them poison, for they would cause vomiting and purging and a bloody flux; but taken sparingly, fasting, they could open the gates to the Sight... this was a gift more precious than gold. They grew not in this country at all, and I could only guess how far the little folk had wandered in search of them. I left them what food I had brought, dried meats and fruits and a honeycomb, but not in repayment; the gift was priceless. I knew that I would lock myself within my chamber at Midwinter, and there seek again the Sight I had renounced. With the gates of vision thus opened I could seek and dare the very presence of the Goddess, begging to reprcnounce what I had forsworn. I had no fear that I would be cast forth again. It was she who sent me this gift that I might seek again her presence." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And I bent to the ground in thanksgiving, knowing that my prayers had been heard and my penance done.\n\nThe snow was beginning to melt off the hills and a few of the earliest wildflowers showed in sheltered valleys when the Lady of the Lake was summoned to the barge to greet the Merlin of Britain. Kevin looked pale and worn, his face haggard, his twisted limbs dragging more reluctantly than ever, and he braced himself with a stout stick. Niniane noticed, her eyes hiding the pity she felt, that he had been forced to put My Lady from him into the hands of a serving-man, and she pretended not to see, knowing what a blow that must have been to his pride. She slowed her own stepson the path toward her dwelling place, and there she welcomed him, summoned her women to buildup the fire, and sent for wine, of which he took only a token sip, and bowed gravely in thanks.\n\n\"What brings you here so early in the year, Venerable?\" she asked him. \"Have you come from Camelot?\"\n\nHe shook his head. \"I was therefor apart of the winter,\" he said, \"and I spoke much with Arthur's councillors, but early in the spring I went southward on a mission to the treaty troops-I should say now, I suppose, the Saxon kingdoms. And I take it you know whom I saw there, Niniane. Was that Morgause's doing, or yours, I wonder?\"\n\n\"Neither,\" she said quietly. \"It was Gwydion's own choice. He knew he should have some experience in battle, Druid teaching or no-there have been warrior Druids ere this. And he chose to go south to the Saxon kingdoms-they are allied with Arthur, but there he would not come under Arthur's eyes. He did not-for reasons known as well to you as tome-wish for Arthur to set eyes on him.\" After a moment she added, \"I would not swear that Morgause did not influence his choice. He takes counsel of her, when he will seek the counsel of any.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Is it so?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kevin raised his eyebrows. \"Aye, I suppose so-she is the only mother he has ever known. And she ruled Lot's kingdom as well as any man, and still rules, even with her new consort.\"\n\n\"I heard not that she had anew consort,\" said Niniane. \"I cannot see as well what happens in the kingdoms as did Viviane.\"\n\n\"Aye, she had the Sight to aid her,\" Kevin said, \"and maidens with the Sight when her own Sight failed her. Have you none, Niniane?\"\n\n\"I have-some,\" she said hesitating. \"Yet it fails me now and again-\" and she was silent a moment, staring at the flagstones of the floor. At last she said, \"I think-Avalon is-is drifting further from the lands of men, Lord Merlin. What season was it in the world outside?\"\n\n\"Ten days have passed since the equinox, Lady,\" said Kevin.\n\nNiniane drew along breath. \"And I kept that feast but seven days since. It is as I thought-the lands are drifting. As yet no more than a few days in every moon, but I fear soon we shall be as far from sun tide and moon tide as that fairy kingdom they tell of... it is ever harder to summon the mists and to pass forth from this land.\"\n\n\"I know,\" said Kevin. \"Why, think you, I came at the slack of the tide?\" He smiled his twisted grin and said, \"You should rejoice-you will not age as women in the outer world are prone to age, Lady, but remain younger.\"\n\n\"You do not comfort me,\" said Niniane with a shudder. \"Yet there is none in the outer world whose fate I follow, save-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Gwydion's,\" said Kevin. \"I thought as much. But there is one with whose fate you should be concerned as well-\"\n\n\"Arthur in his palace? He has renounced us,\" said Niniane, \"and Avalon lends him no more help-\"\n\n\"It is not of Arthur I spoke,\" said Kevin, \"nor does he seek help from Avalon, not now. But-\" He hesitated. \"I heard it from the folk of the hills-there is a king again in Wales, and a queen.\"\n\n\"Uriens?\" Niniane laughed, a scoffing laugh. \"He is older than those same hills, Kevin! What can he do for those folk?\"\n\n\"Nor did I speak of Uriens,\" said Kevin. \"Had you forgotten? Morgaine is there, and the Old People have accepted her as their queen. She will protect them, even against Uriens, while she lives. Had you forgotten that the son of Uriens had teaching here, and wears the serpents about his wrists?\"\n\nNiniane was silent fora moment, motionless. At last she said, \"I had forgotten that. He was not the elder son, so I thought he would never reign-\"\n\n\"The elder son is a fool,\" said Kevin, \"though the priests think him a good successor to his father, and from their view, he is so-pious and simple and he will not interfere with their church. The priests trust not the second son-Accolon-because he wears the serpents. And, since Morgaine has come there, he has remembered it, and serves her as his queen. And for the folk of the hills she is queen, too, whoever may sit on the throne in the Roman fashion. For them, the king is he who dies yearly among the deer, but the queen is eternal. And it maybe that in the end Morgaine will do what Viviane left undone.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Niniane could hear, with a detached surprise, the bitterness in her own voice. \"Kevin, not for one day since Viviane died and they came to set me here, have I been allowed to forget that I am not Viviane, that after Viviane I am nothing. Even Raven follows me with her great silent eyes that say always, You are not Viviane, you cannot do the work Viviane spent her life to do. I know it well-that I was chosen only because I am the last of Taliesin's blood and there was no other, that I am not of the royal line of the Queen of Avalon! No, I am not Viviane, and I am not Morgaine, but I have served faithfully herein this place when I sought it never and when it was thrust upon me because of Taliesin's blood. I have been faithful to my vows-is this nothing to anyone?\"\n\n\"Lady,\" said Kevin gently, \"Viviane was such a priestess as comes not into this world more than once in many hundreds of years, even in Avalon. And her reign was long-she ruled here for nine-and-thirty years, and very few of us can remember before her time. Any priestess who must follow in her steps would feel herself less in comparison. There is nothing for which you must reproach yourself. You have been faithful to your vows.\"\n\n\"As Morgaine was not,\" said Niniane.\n\n\"True. But she is of the blood royal of Avalon, and she bore the heir to the King Stag. It is not for us to judge her.\"\n\n\"You defend her because you were her lover-\" Niniane flared, and Kevin raised his head. She had not realized; set within the dark and twisted face, his eyes were blue, like the very center of flame. He said quietly, \"Would you try to pick a quarrel with me, Lady? That is over and gone years since, and when last I saw Morgaine, she called me traitor and worse, and drove me from her presence with harsh words such as no man with blood in his veins could forgive. Do you think I love her too well? But it is not my place to judge her, nor yours. You are the Lady of the Lake. Morgaine is my queen, and Queen of Avalon. She does her work in the world as you do yours here-and I where the Gods lead me. And they led me this spring into the fen country, where, at the court of a Saxon who calls himself king under Arthur, I saw Gwydion.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Niniane had been schooled in her long training to keep her face impassive; but she knew that Kevin, who had had the same teaching, could see that she must do so with an effort, and felt that somehow those sharp eyes could read within her." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She wanted to ask news of him, but instead she said only, \"Morgause told me that he has some knowledge of strategy and is no coward in battle. How fared he, then, among those barbarians who would rather batter out brains with their great clubs than make use of them at their courts? I knew he went south to the Saxon kingdoms because one of them wished fora Druid at court who could read and write and knew something of figures and mapmaking. And he said tome that he wished to be seasoned in war without coming under the eye of Arthur, so I suppose he had his wish. Even though there has been peace in the land, there is always fighting among yonder folk-is the Saxon God not one of war and battles?\"\n\n\"Mordred, they call Gwydion, which means\" Evil Counsel'in their tongue. It is a compliment-they mean it is evil for those who would harm them. They give every guest a name, as they call Lancelet Elf-arrow.\"\n\n\"Among the Saxons, a Druid, even a young one, might seem wiser than he is, in contrast to all their thick heads! And Gwydion is clever! Even as a boy he could think of a dozen answers for everything!\"\n\n\"Clever he is,\" said Kevin slowly, \"and knows well how to make himself loved, I have seen that. Me, he welcomed as if I had been his favorite uncle in childhood, saying how good it was to see a familiar face from Avalon, embracing me, making much of me-all as if he loved me well.\"\n\n\"No doubt he was lonely and you were like a breath from home,\" said Niniane, but Kevin frowned and drank a little wine, then set it down and forgot it again. He demanded, \"How far did Gwydion go in the magical training?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"He wears the serpents,\" Niniane said.\n\n\"That may mean much or little,\" Kevin said. \"You should know that-\" And although the words were innocent, Niniane felt their sting; a priestess who bore the crescent on her brow might be a Viviane-or no more than she herself. She said, \"He is to return at Midsummer to be made King of Avalon, that state Arthur betrayed. And now he is grown to manhood-\"\n\nKevin warned, \"He is not ready to be king.\"\n\n\"Do you doubt his courage? Or his loyalty-\"\n\n\"Oh-courage,\" said Kevin, and made a dismissing gesture. \"Courage, and cleverness-but it is his heart I trust not and cannot read. And he is not Arthur.\"\n\n\"It is well for Avalon that he is not,\" Niniane flared. \"We need no more apostates who swear loyalty to Avalon and forsake their oath to the folk of the hills! The priests may set a pious hypocrite on the throne, who will serve whatever God he finds expedient at the moment-\"\n\nKevin raised his twisted hand, with such a commanding gesture that Niniane fell silent. \"Avalon is not the world! We have neither strength, nor armies, nor craft, and Arthur is loved beyond measure. Not in Avalon, I grant you, but all the length and breadth of these islands, where Arthur is the hand that has created the peace they value. At this moment, any voice arising against Arthur would be silenced within months, if not within days. Arthur is loved-he is the very spirit of all Britain. And even if it were otherwise, what we do in Avalon has little weight in the world outside. As you marked, we are drifting into the mists.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Then all the more must we move quickly, to bring Arthur down and set a king on the throne of Britain who will restore Avalon to the world and the Goddess....\"\n\nKevin said quietly, \"I wonder, sometimes, if that can ever be done-if we have all spent our lives within a dream without reality.\"\n\n\"You say that? You, the Merlin of Britain?\"\n\n\"I have been at Arthur's court, not sheltered in an island that moves ever further from the world outside,\" said Kevin gently. \"This is my home, and I would die, as I am sworn... but it was with Britain I made the Great Marriage, Niniane, not with Avalon alone.\"\n\n\"If Avalon dies,\" said Niniane, \"then Britain is without her heart and will die, for the Goddess has withdrawn her soul from all the land.\"\n\n\"Think you so, Niniane?\" Kevin sighed again, and said, \"I have been all up and down these lands, in all weathers and all times-Merlin of Britain, hawk of the Sight, messenger of the Great Raven-and I see now another heart in the land, and it shines forth from Camelot.\"\n\nHe was silent. After along while Niniane said, \"Was it when you said such words as this to Morgaine that she called you traitor?\"\n\n\"No-it was something else,\" he said. \"Perhaps, Niniane, we do not know the ways of the Gods and their will as well as we think we do. I tell you, if we move now to bring Arthur down, this land will fall into a chaos worse than that when Ambrosius died and Uther had to fight for his crown. Do you think Gwydion can fight as Arthur did to take the land? Arthur's Companions would all be ranged against any man who rose against their king and their hero-he is like a God to them and can do no wrong.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It was never our wish,\" said Niniane, \"that Gwydion should face his father and fight him for his crown-only that one day, when Arthur knows he has no heir, he must turn to the son who comes of the royal line of Avalon and is sworn to loyalty to Avalon and the true Gods. And to that end he must be proclaimed King Stag in Avalon, so that there maybe voices, when Arthur seeks an heir, to speak for him. I have heard that Arthur has chosen Lancelet's son for his heir, since the Queen is barren. But Lancelet's son is but a young child, and Gwydion already a man grown. If anything happened to Arthur now, do you not think they would choose Gwydion-a grown man, a warrior and a Druid-over a child?\"\n\n\"Arthur's Companions would not follow a stranger, were he twice over warrior and Druid. Most likely they would name Gawaine regent for Lancelet's son till he came of age. And the Companions are Christian, most of them, and would reject Gwydion because of his birth-incest is a grave sin among them.\"\n\n\"They know nothing of sacred things.\"\n\n\"Granted. They must have time to accustom themselves to the idea, and that time is not yet. But if Gwydion cannot now be acknowledged as Arthur's son, it should be known that the priestess Morgaine, who is Arthur's own sister, has a son, and that this son is closer to the throne than Lancelet's child. And this summer there will be war again-\"\n\n\"I thought,\" said Niniane, \"that Arthur had made peace.\"\n\n\"Herein Britain, yes. But there is one in Less Britain who would claim all of Britain as his empire-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Ban?\" asked Niniane in astonishment. \"He was sworn long ago-he made the Great Marriage before our Lancelet was born. He would be all too old to go to war against Arthur-\"\n\n\"Ban is old and feeble,\" said Kevin. \"His son Lionel rules in his place, and Lionel's brother Bors is one of Arthur's Companions, and worships Lancelet as his hero. Neither of them would trouble Arthur's rule. But there is one who will. He calls himself Lucius, and he has somehow gotten the ancient Roman eagles and proclaimed himself emperor. And he will challenge Arthur-\"\n\nNiniane's skin prickled. She asked, \"Is that the Sight?\"\n\n\"Morgaine said tome once,\" Kevin said with a smile, \"that it needed not the Sight to know a rogue will be a rogue. It needs not the Sight to know that an ambitious man will challenge where the challenge will further his ambition. There are those who may think Arthur is growing old because his hair shines not all gold as it did and he flies the dragon no more. But do not rate him low, Niniane. I know him, you do not. He is not a fool!\"\n\n\"I think,\" said Niniane, \"that you love him too well fora man you are sworn to destroy.\"\n\n\"Love him?\" Kevin's smile was mirthless. \"I am Merlin of Britain, messenger of the Great Raven, and I sit at his side in council. Arthur is an easy man to love. But I am sworn to the Goddess.\" Again the short laugh. \"I think my sanity depends on this-that I know that what benefits Avalon must in the long years benefit Britain. You see Arthur as the enemy, Niniane. I see him still as the King Stag, protecting his herd and his lands.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Niniane said in a trembling whisper, \"And what of the King Stag when the young stag is grown?\"\n\nKevin leaned his head on his hands. He looked old and ill and weary. \"That day is not yet, Niniane. Do not seek to push Gwydion so swiftly he will be destroyed, merely because he is your lover.\" And he rose and limped out of the room without looking back, leaving Niniane sullen and angry.\n\nHow did that wretched man know that?\n\nAnd she told herself, I am under no vows like the Christian nuns! If I choose to take a man to my bed, that is for me to say... even if that man should be my pupil, and only a boy when he came here!\n\nIn the first years, he had twined himself around her heart, a lonely boy, lost and bereft, with none to love him or care for him or wonder how he did.... Morgause was the only mother he had known, and now he was parted from her too. How could Morgaine have found it in her heart to give up a fine son like this, clever and beautiful and wise, and never send to inquire how he did, or come to set eyes on him? Niniane had never borne a child, though she had thought, sometimes, that if she had come from Beltane with her womb filled she would have liked to bear a daughter to the Goddess. But it had never gone thus with her, and she had not rebelled against her lot.\n\nBut in those first years she had let Gwydion find his way into her heart. And then he had gone from them, as men must do, grown too old for the teachings of the priestesses, to be taught among the Druids and schooled in the arts of war. And he had returned, one year at Beltane, and she thought it was by craft that he had come near to her in the fire rites and she had gone apart with him...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But they had not parted when that season was over; and whenever, after that, in his comings and goings, anything had brought him to Avalon, she made it clear that she wanted him, and he had not said her no. I am closest to his heart, she thought, I know him best-what does Kevin know of him?\n\nAnd now the time has come when he shall return, to Avalon, and shall have his trial as King Stag....\n\nAnd she turned her thoughts to that: where should she find a maiden for him? There are so few women in the House of Maidens who are even halfway fit for this great office, she thought, and there was sudden pain and dread in her thoughts.\n\nKevin was right. Avalon is drifting, dying; few come here for the ancient teachings, and there are none to keep the rites... and one day there will be no one at all... and again she felt that almost painful prickling in her body which came to her, now and again, in lieu of the Sight.\n\nGWYDION CAME HOME to Avalon a few days before Beltane. Niniane greeted him formally at the boat, and he bowed to her in reverence before the maidens and the assembled folk of the Island, but when they were alone he caught her in his arms and kissed her, laughing, until they were both breathless.\n\nHis shoulders had broadened, and there was a red seam on his face. He had been fighting, she could tell; he no longer had the untroubled look of a priest and scholar.\n\nMy lover and my child. Is this why the Great Goddess has no husband, after the Roman fashion, but only sons, as we are all her children? And I who sit in her place must feel my lover as my son too... for all those who love the Goddess are her children...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And the lands are astir with it,\" he said, \"herein Avalon and among the Old People of the hills, that on Dragon Island the Old People will be choosing their king again.... It was for this that you summoned me there, was it not?\"\n\nSometimes, she thought, he could be as infuriating as an arrogant child. \"I do not know, Gwydion. The time may not be ripe, and the tides may not be ready. Nor can I find anywhere within this house anyone to play for you the part of the Spring Maiden.\"\n\n\"Yet it will be this spring,\" he said quietly, \"and this Beltane, for I have seen it.\"\n\nHer mouth curved a little as she said, \"And have you then seen the priestess who will admit you to the rite when you have won the antlers, supposing that the Sight does not mislead you to your death?\"\n\nShe thought as he faced her that he had but grown more beautiful, his face cold and set, dark with hidden passion. \"I have, Niniane. Do you not know that it was you?\"\n\nShe said, suddenly chilled to the bone, \"I am no maiden. Why do you mock me, Gwydion?\"\n\n\"Yet I have seen you,\" he said, \"and you know it as well as I. In her the Maiden and the Mother and the Crone meet and blend. She will be old and young as it shall please her, Virgin and Beast and Mother and the face of Death in the lightning, flowing and filling and returning again to her virginity....\"\n\nNiniane bent her head and said, \"Gwydion, no, it cannot be-\"\n\n\"I am her consort,\" he said implacably, \"and shall win it there... it is not the time fora virgin-the priests make much of that nonsense. I call upon her as the Mother to give me my due and my life....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Niniane felt as if she were trying to stand against some relentless tide that would sweep her away. She said, hesitating, \"So it has always been, that in the running of the deer, though the Mother sends him forth, he returns again to the Maiden....\"\n\nYet there was reason in what he said. Surely it was better to have a priestess for the rites who knew what she was doing, rather than some half-trained child new come to the temple, whose only qualification was that she was not yet old enough to feel the call to the Beltane fire.... Gwydion spoke truth: the Mother ever renews herself, Mother and Crone and again the Maiden, even as the moon who hides herself in the dark sky.\n\nShe bent her head and said, \"Let it be so. You shall make the Great Marriage with the land and with me in her name.\"\n\nBut when she was alone again she was frightened. How had she come to agree to this? What, in the name of the Goddess, was this power in Gwydion, that he could make all men do his will?\n\nIs this, then, his heritage from Arthur, and the blood of the Pendragon? And ice flooded her again.\n\nWhat of the King Stag... Morgaine was dreaming...\n\nBeltane, and the deer running on the hills... and the life of the forest running through her body, as if every part of the forest was apart of the life within her... he was down among the deer, the running stag, the naked man with the antlers tied on his brow, and the horns thrust down and down, his dark hair matted with blood... but he was on his feet, charging, a knife flashing in the sunlight through the trees, and the King Stag came crashing down and the sound of his bellowing filled the forest with cries of despair." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And then she was in the dark cave, and the signs painted there were painted on her body, she was one with the cave, and all around her the Beltane fires flared, sparks crashing skyward-there was the taste of fresh blood on her mouth, and now the cave mouth was shadowed with the antlers... it should not befall moon, she should not see so clearly that her naked body was not the slender body of a virgin, but that her breasts were soft and full and pink as they had been when her child was born, almost as if they were dripping with milk, and surely she had been tested that she came virgin to this rite... what would they say to her, that she came not as the Spring Maiden to the King Stag?\n\nHe knelt at her side and she raised her arms, welcoming him to the rite and to her body, but his eyes were dark and haunted. His hands on her were tender, frustrating, toying with pleasure as he denied her the rite of power... it was not Arthur, no, this was Lancelet, King Stag, who should pull down the old stag, consort of the Spring Maiden, but he looked down at her, his dark eyes tormented by that same pain that struck inward through her whole body, and he said, I would you were not so like to my mother, Morgaine....\n\nTerrified, her heart pounding, Morgaine woke in her own room, Uriens sleeping at her side and snoring. Still caught up in the frightening magic of the dream, she shook her head in confusion toward the terror away.\n\nNo, Beltane is past... she had kept the rites with Accolon as she had known she would do, she was not lying in the cave, awaiting the King Stag... and why, she wondered, why should this dream of Lancelet visit her now, why did she dream not of Accolon, when she had made him her priest and Lord of Beltane, and her lover? Why, after so many years, should the memory of refusal and sacrilege strike inward at her very soul?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She tried to compose herself for sleep again, but sleep would not come, and she lay awake, shaken, until the sun thrust the rays of early summer into her chamber.\n\nGwenhwyfar had come to hate the day of Pentecost, when each year Arthur sent out word that all his old Companions should come to Camelot and renew their fellowship. With the growing of peace in the land, and the scattering of the old Companions, every year there were fewer to come, more who had ties to their own homes and families and estates. And Gwenhwyfar was glad, for these Pentecost reunions put her too much in mind of those days when Arthur had not been a Christian king but bore the hated Pendragon banner. At Pentecost court he belonged to his Companions and she had no part at all in his life.\n\nShe stood behind him now as he sealed the two dozen copies his scribes had made, for everyone of his fellow kings and many of his old Companions. \"Why do you send out a special call for them to come this year? Surely all those who have no other business will come without your calling.\"\n\n\"But that is not enough this year,\" said Arthur, turning to smile at her. He was going grey, she realized, though he was so fair-haired that none could see unless they were standing quite close. \"I wish to assure them of such games and mock battles as will make all men aware that Arthur's legion is still well able to fight.\"\n\n\"Do you think any will doubt this?\" Gwenhwyfar asked.\n\n\"Perhaps not. But there is this man Lucius in Less Britain-Bors has sent me word, and as all my subject kings came to my aid when the Saxons and Northmen would have overrun this island, so I am pledged to come to theirs. Emperor, he calls himself, of Rome!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And has he any right to be emperor?\" Gwenhwyfar asked.\n\n\"Need you ask? Far less than I, certainly,\" Arthur said. \"There has been no Emperor of Rome for more than a hundred years, my wife. Constantine was emperor and wore the purple, and after him Magnus Maximus, who went abroad over the channel to try and make himself emperor; but he came never back to Britain, and God alone knows what befell him or where he died. And after him, Ambrosius Aurelianus rallied our people against the Saxons, and after him Uther, and I suppose either of them could have called himself emperor, or I, but I am content to be High King of Britain. When I was a boy I read something of the history of Rome, and it was nothing new that some upstart pretender should somehow get the loyalty of a legion or two, and proclaim himself to the purple. But herein Britain it takes more than an eagle standard to make an Imperator. Else would Uriens be emperor in this land! I have sent for him to come-it seems long since I have seen my sister.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar did not answer that, not directly. She shuddered. \"I do not want to see this land touched by war again, and torn apart by slaughter-\"\n\n\"Nor do I,\" said Arthur. \"I think every king would rather have peace.\"\n\n\"I am not so certain. There are some of your men who never cease speaking of the old days when they fought early and late against the Saxons. And now they begrudge Christian fellowship to those same Saxons, no matter what their bishop says-\"\n\n\"I do not think it is the days of war they regret,\" Arthur said, smiling at his queen, \"I think it is the days when we were all young, and the closeness that was between us all. Do you never long for those years, my wife?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwenhwyfar felt herself coloring. Indeed, she remembered well... those days when Lancelet had been her champion, and they had loved... this was noway fora Christian queen to think, and yet she could not stop herself. \"Indeed I do, my husband. And, as you say, perhaps it is only longing for my own youth... I am not young,\" she said, sighing, and he took her hand and said, \"You areas beautiful tome, my dearest, as the day when we were first bedded,\" and she knew that it was true.\n\nBut she forced herself to becalm, not to blush. I am not young, she thought, it is not seemly that I should think of those days when I was young and regret them, because in those days I was a sinner and an adulteress. Now I have repented and made peace with God, and even Arthur has done penance for his sin with Morgaine. She forced herself to practicality, as befitted the Queen of all Britain. \"I suppose we shall have more visitors than ever, then, at Pentecost-I must take counsel with Cai, and sir Lucan, as to where we shall bestow them all, and how we shall feast them. Will Bors come from Less Britain?\"\n\n\"He will come if he can,\" Arthur said, \"although Lancelet sent me a message earlier in this week, asking leave to go and aid his brother Bors if he is besieged there. I sent him word to come here, for it might be that we will all go.... Now that Pellinore is gone, Lancelet is king there as Elaine's husband, while their son is a little child. And Agravaine will come for Morgause of Lothian, and Uriens-or perhaps one of his sons. Uriens is marvelously well preserved for his years, but he is not immortal. His elder son is something of a fool, but Accolon is one of my old Companions, and Uriens has Morgaine to guide and counsel him.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That seems not right tome,\" Gwenhwyfar said, \"for the Holy Apostle said that women should submit themselves to their husbands, yet Morgause rules still in Lothian, and Morgaine would be more than helpmeet to her king in North Wales.\"\n\n\"You must remember, my lady,\" said Arthur, \"that I come of the royal line of Avalon. I am king, not only as Uther Pendragon's son, but because I am son of Igraine, who was daughter to the old Lady of the Lake. Gwenhwyfar, from timeout of mind, the Lady ruled the land, and the king was no more than consort in time of war. Even in the days of Rome, the legions dealt with what they came to call client queens, who ruled the Tribes, and some of them were mighty warriors. Have you heard never of the Queen Boadicea?-she who, when her daughters were raped by the men of the legions, and the queen herself flogged as a rebel against Rome, raised an army and nearly drove all the Romans from these shores.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar said bitterly, \"I hope they killed her.\"\n\n\"Oh, they did, and outraged her body... yet it was a sign that the Romans could not hope to conquer without accepting that in this country, the Lady rules.... Every ruler of Britain, down to my father, Uther, has borne the title the Romans coined fora war leader under a queen: dux bellorum, duke of war. Uther, and I after him, bear the throne of Britain as dux bellorum to the Lady of Avalon, Gwenhwyfar. Forget not that.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar said impatiently, \"I thought you had done with that, that you had professed yourself a Christian king and done penance for your servitude to the fairy folk of that evil island....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Arthur said, with equal impatience, \"My personal life and my religious faith are one thing, Gwenhwyfar, but the Tribes standby me because I bear this!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His hand struck against Excalibur, belted at his side, inside its crimson scabbard. \"I survived in war because of the magic of this blade-\"\n\n\"You survived in war because God spared you to Christianize this land,\" said Gwenhwyfar.\n\n\"Someday, perhaps. That time is not yet, lady. In Lothian, men are content to live under the rule of Morgause, and Morgaine is queen in Cornwall and in North Wales. If the time were ripe for all these lands to fall to the rule of Christ, then would they clamor fora king and not fora queen. I rule this land as it is, Gwenhwyfar, not as the bishops would have it to be.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar would have argued further, but she saw the impatience in his eyes and held her peace. \"Perhaps in time even the Saxons and the Tribes may come to the foot of the cross. A day will come, so Bishop Patricius has said, when Christ will be the only king among Christian men, and kings and queens his servants. Godspeed the day,\" and she made the sign of the cross. Arthur laughed.\n\n\"Servant to Christ will I be willingly,\" he said, \"but not to his priests. No doubt, though, Bishop Patricius will be among the guests, and you may feast him as fine as you will.\"\n\n\"And Uriens will come from North Wales,\" Gwenhwyfar said, \"and Morgaine too, no doubt. And from Pellinore's land, Lancelet?\"\n\n\"He will come,\" said Arthur, \"though I fear, if you wish to see your cousin Elaine again, you must journey thither to make her a visit: Lancelet sent word that she is in childbed again.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwenhwyfar flinched. She knew that Lancelet spent little time at home with his wife, but Elaine had given Lancelet what she could not-sons and daughters.\n\n\"How old now is Elaine's son? He is to be my heir, he should be fostered at this court,\" Arthur said, and Gwenhwyfar replied, \"I offered as much when he was born, but Elaine said that even if he was to be king one day, he must be brought up to a simple and modest manhood. You too were fostered as a plain man's son, and it did you no harm.\"\n\n\"Well, perhaps she is right,\" said Arthur. \"I would like, once, to see Morgaine's son. He would be grown to manhood now-it has been seventeen years. I know he cannot succeed me, the priests would not have it, but he is all the son I have ever fathered, and I would like, once, to set eyes on the lad and tell him... I know not what I would like to tell him. But I would like to see him once.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar struggled against the furious retort that sprang to her lips; nothing could be gained by arguing this again. She said only, \"He is well where he is.\" She spoke the truth, and after she said it she knew it was the truth; she was glad Morgaine's son was being reared on that isle of sorceries, where no Christian king could go. Schooled there, it was more certain than ever that no sudden swing of fortune would set him on the throne after Arthur-more and more, the priests and people of this land distrusted the sorcery of Avalon. Reared at court, it might be that some unscrupulous person would begin to think of Morgaine's son as a successor more legitimate than Lancelet's." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "As the writer's tale assistant, advance the plot.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 10" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwenhwyfar flinched. She knew that Lancelet spent little time at home with his wife, but Elaine had given Lancelet what she could not-sons and daughters.\n\n\"How old now is Elaine's son? He is to be my heir, he should be fostered at this court,\" Arthur said, and Gwenhwyfar replied, \"I offered as much when he was born, but Elaine said that even if he was to be king one day, he must be brought up to a simple and modest manhood. You too were fostered as a plain man's son, and it did you no harm.\"\n\n\"Well, perhaps she is right,\" said Arthur. \"I would like, once, to see Morgaine's son. He would be grown to manhood now-it has been seventeen years. I know he cannot succeed me, the priests would not have it, but he is all the son I have ever fathered, and I would like, once, to set eyes on the lad and tell him... I know not what I would like to tell him. But I would like to see him once.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar struggled against the furious retort that sprang to her lips; nothing could be gained by arguing this again. She said only, \"He is well where he is.\" She spoke the truth, and after she said it she knew it was the truth; she was glad Morgaine's son was being reared on that isle of sorceries, where no Christian king could go. Schooled there, it was more certain than ever that no sudden swing of fortune would set him on the throne after Arthur-more and more, the priests and people of this land distrusted the sorcery of Avalon. Reared at court, it might be that some unscrupulous person would begin to think of Morgaine's son as a successor more legitimate than Lancelet's." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arthur sighed. \"Yet it is hard fora man to know he has a son and never set eyes on him,\" he said. \"Perhaps, one day.\" But his shoulders went up and then down in resignation. \"No doubt you are right, my dear. What of the Pentecost feast? I know you will make it, as always, a memorable day.\"\n\nAND SO SHE HAD DONE, Gwenhwyfar thought on that morning, looking out over the expanse of tents and pavilions. The great war-gaming field had been cleared and lined with ropes and banners, and the flags and banners of half a hundred petty kings and more than a hundred knights were moving briskly in the summer wind on the heights. It was like an army encamped here.\n\nShe sought out the banner of Pellinore, the white dragon he had adopted after the killing of the dragon in the lake. Lancelet would be there... it had been more than a year since she had seen him, and then formally before all the court. It had been many years since she had been alone with him even fora moment; the day before he had married Elaine, he had come to seek her out alone and to say farewell.\n\nHe had been Morgaine's victim too; he had not betrayed her, they had both been victim of the cruel trick Morgaine had played on them. When he told her about it, he had wept, and she cherished the memory of his tears as the highest compliment he had ever given her... who had seen Lancelet weep?\n\n\"I swear to you, Gwenhwyfar, she trapped me-Morgaine sent me the false message, and a kerchief with your scent. And I think she drugged me, too, or put some spell upon me.\" He had looked into her eyes, weeping, and she had wept too. \"And Morgaine told Elaine some lie too, saying I was sick with love of her... and we were there together. I thought it was you at first, it was as if I were under some enchantment. And then when I knew it was Elaine in my arms, still I could not stop myself. And then they were all therewith torches... what could I do, Gwen? I had taken the virgin daughter of my host, Pellinore would have been within his rights to kill me then and therein her bed...\" Lancelet cried out, and then, his voice breaking, he had ended, \"Would to God that I had rushed on his sword instead....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She had asked him, You do not care at all for Elaine, then? She had known it was an inexcusable thing to say, but she could not live without that reassurance... but while Lancelet might uncover his own misery to her, he would not speak of Elaine; he had only said, stiffly, that none of this was Elaine's fault, and that he was bound in honor to try to make her as happy as he could.\n\nWell, it was done, Morgaine had had her will. So she would see Lancelet and welcome him as her husband's kinsman, no more. The other madness was past and gone, but she would see him and that was better than nothing. She tried to banish all this with thoughts of the feast. Two oxen were being roasted, would it be enough? And there was a huge wild boar taken in hunting a few days ago, and two pigs from the farms nearby, being baked in a pit yonder; already it smelled so good that a group of hungry children were hanging around sniffing the good smell. And there were hundreds of loaves of barley bread, many of which would be given away to the countryfolk who came to crowd around the edges of the field and watch the doings of the nobles, the kings and knights and Companions; and there were apples baked in cream, and nuts by the bushel, and confectionery for the ladies, honey cakes, and rabbits and small birds stewed in wine... if this feast was not a success, certainly it would not be for the want of good and abundant food!\n\nSometime after the noon hour they gathered, along line of richly dressed nobles and ladies coming into the great hall and being ushered to their proper places. The Companions, as always, were shown to their places at the great round mead-hall table; but huge as it was, it would no longer place all the assembled company." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gawaine, who was always closest to Arthur, presented his mother, Morgause. She was leaning on the arm of a young man Gwenhwyfar did not fora moment recognize; Morgause was slender as ever, her hair still thick and rich, braided with gems. She sank in a curtsey before Arthur, who motioned her to rise and embraced her.\n\n\"Welcome, Aunt, to my court.\"\n\n\"I have heard that you ride only white horses,\" said Morgause, \"and so I have brought you one from the Saxon country. I have a fosterling there who sent it as a gift.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar saw Arthur's jaw tighten, and she too could guess who the fosterling must be. But he only said, \"A kingly gift truly, Aunt.\"\n\n\"I will not have the horse led into the hall, as I am told is the custom in the Saxon countries,\" Morgause said gaily. \"I do not think the lady of Camelot would like having her high hall, garnished for guests, turned into a byre! And, no doubt, your stewards have enough to do, Gwenhwyfar!\" She embraced the Queen; the younger woman was enveloped in a warm wave, and close by she could see that Morgause's face was painted, her bright eyes lined with kohl; but she was beautiful no less.\n\nGwenhwyfar said, \"I thank you for your forbearance, lady Morgause-it would not be the first time a fine horse or dog had been led before my lord and king herein his hall, and I know 'tis meant as courtesy, but I have no doubt your horse will be waiting outside quite content-I do not think the hospitality of Camelot means much even to the finest of horses. He would rather dine in his stall! Though Lancelet used to tell us a tale of some Roman who had his horse fed on wine in a golden trough and gave him honors and laurel wreaths-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The handsome young man at Morgause's side laughed and said, \"I remember, Lancelet told that story at my sister's wedding. It was the Emperor Gaius the God, who made his favorite horse one of his senators, and when he died, the next emperor said something like, at least the horse had given no evil counsel and done no murder. But do not the same, my lord Arthur-we have no chairs fit to hold such a Companion, should you see fit to name your stallion as one of them!\"\n\nArthur laughed heartily and took the young man by the hand, saying, \"I will not, Lamorak,\" and with a start, Gwenhwyfar realized who the young man at Morgause's side must be: he was Pellinore's son. Yes, she had heard some rumor of this-that Morgause had taken the young man as her favorite, even before her whole court-how could the woman share her bed with a man young enough to be her son? Why, Lamorak was only five-and-twenty, even now! She looked with fascinated horror and secret envy at Morgause. She looks so young, she is still so beautiful despite all her paint, and she does what she will and cares not if all men criticize her! Her voice was chill as she said, \"Will you come and sit beside me, kinswoman, and leave the men to their talk?\"\n\nMorgause pressed Gwenhwyfar's hand. \"Thank you, cousin. I come so seldom to court, I am happy to sit for once among ladies and gossip about who is married and who has taken a paramour and all the new fashions in gowns and ribbons! I am kept so busy in Lothian with the ruling of the land that I have small time for women's matters, and it is a luxury and a pleasure for me.\" She patted Lamorak's hand and, when she thought no one noticed, brushed his temple with a surreptitious kiss. \"I leave you to the Companions, my dear.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her ample fragrance, the warm scent of her ribbons and the folds of her gown, almost dizzied Gwenhwyfar as the Queen of Lothian sat beside heron the bench. Gwenhwyfar said, \"If you are kept so busy with affairs of state, cousin, why do you not find a wife for Agravaine, and let him rule in his father's place, and give over the ruling of Lothian? Surely the folk there cannot be happy without a king-\"\n\nMorgause's laugh was warm and merry. \"Why, then I should have to live unwedded, since in that country the queen's husband is king, and my dear, that would not suit meat all! And Lamorak is overyoung to rule asking, though he has other duties, and I find him most satisfactory-\"\n\nGwenhwyfar listened with fascinated distaste; how could a woman Morgause's age make a fool of herself with so young a man? Yet his eyes followed Morgause as if she were the most beautiful and fascinating woman in the world. He hardly looked at Isotta of Cornwall, who was bending before the throne now at the side of her elderly husband, Duke Marcus of Cornwall. Isotta was so beautiful that a little murmur went all down the hall; tall and slender, with hair the color of anew-struck copper coin. But no doubt Marcus had thought more of the Irish gold she wore at her throat and at the clasp of her cloak, and the Irish pearls braided into her hair, than the treasure of her beauty. Isotta was, Gwenhwyfar thought, the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Next to Isotta Morgause looked raddled and overblown, but still Lamorak's eyes followed her.\n\n\"Aye, Isotta is very beautiful,\" Morgause said, \"but it is told in the court of Duke Marcus that she has more of an eye for his heir, young Drustan, than for old Marcus himself, and who can blame her? But she is modest and discreet, and if she has sense enough to give the old man a child-though, heaven knows, she might fare better at such craft with the young Drustan, at that.\" Morgause chuckled. \"She looks not like a woman over-happy in her marriage bed. Still, I do not suppose Marcus wants much more of her than a son for Cornwall. Marcus wants only for that, I think, before he declares that Cornwall belongs to him who keeps it, not to Morgaine, who has it from Gorlois-where is my kinswoman Morgaine? I am eager to embrace her!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"She is therewith Uriens,\" said Gwenhwyfar, looking to where the King of North Wales waited to approach the throne.\n\n\"Arthur would have done better to marry Morgaine into Cornwall,\" Morgause said. \"But I think he felt Marcus was too old for her. Though he might well have married her to yonder young Drustan-his mother was kindred to Ban of Less Britain, and he is a distant cousin to Lancelet, and handsome almost as Lancelet himself, is he not, Gwenhwyfar?\" She smiled merrily and added, \"Ah, but I had forgotten, you are so pious a lady, you look never on the beauty of any man save your own wedded husband. But then, it is easy for you to be virtuous, married to one so young and handsome and gallant as Arthur!\"\n\nGwenhwyfar felt that Morgause's chatter would drive her mad. Did the woman think of nothing else? Morgause said, \"I suppose you must speak a word or two of courtesy to Isotta-she is newcome to Britain. I have heard she speaks little of our tongue, only that of her Irish homeland. But I have heard, too, that in her own country she was a notable mistress of herbs and magic, so that when Drustan fought with the Irish knight the Marhaus, she healed him when none thought he could live, and so he is her faithful knight and champion-or at least he said that was his reason,\" Morgause chattered on, \"though she is so beautiful, I would not wonder... perhaps I should make her known to Morgaine, she too is a great mistress of herb lore and spells of healing. They would have much to speak of, and I think Morgaine knows a little of the Irish tongue. And Morgaine, too, is married to a man old enough to be her father-I think that was ill done of Arthur!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwenhwyfar said stiffly, \"Morgaine married Uriens with her own consent. You do not think Arthur would marry away his dear sister without asking her!\"\n\nMorgause almost snorted, \"Morgaine is full enough of life that I do not think she would be content in an old man's bed,\" she said, \"and if I had a stepson as handsome as yonder Accolon, I know well I would not!\"\n\n\"Come, ask the lady of Cornwall to sit with us,\" Gwenhwyfar said, to put an end to Morgause's gossip. \"And Morgaine, too, if you will.\" Morgaine was safely married to Uriens; what was it to Gwenhwyfar if she made a fool of herself or put her immortal soul at hazard by playing the harlot with this manor that?\n\nUriens, with Morgaine and his two younger sons, had come to greet Arthur, who took the old king by both hands, calling him'Brother-in-law,\" and kissed Morgaine on either cheek.\n\n\"But you have come to offer me a gift, Uriens? I need no gifts from kinsmen, your affection is enough,\" he said.\n\n\"Not only to offer you a gift but to ask a boon of you,\" said Uriens. \"I beg you to make my son Uwaine a knight of your Round Table and receive him as one of your Companions.\"\n\nArthur smiled at the slender, dark young man who knelt before him. \"How old are you, young Uwaine?\"\n\n\"Fifteen, my lord and king.\"\n\n\"Well, then, rise, sir Uwaine,\" said Arthur graciously. \"You may watch this night by your arms, and tomorrow one of my Companions shall make you knight.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"By your leave,\" said Gawaine, \"may I be the one to confer this honor on my cousin Uwaine, lord Arthur?\"\n\n\"Who better than you, my cousin and friend?\" Arthur said. \"If that is agreeable to you, Uwaine, let it be so. I receive you willingly as my Companion for your own sake, and because you are stepson to my dear sister. Make him a place at table there, you men, and you, Uwaine, may fight in my company tomorrow in the mock battles.\"\n\nUwaine stammered, \"I thank you, my k-king.\"\n\nArthur smiled at Morgaine. \"I thank you for this gift, my sister.\"\n\n\"It is a gift tome as well, Arthur,\" Morgaine said. \"Uwaine has been like a true son tome.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar thought, cruelly, that Morgaine looked her age; her face was touched with subtle lines, and there were streaks of white in the raven hair, though her dark eyes were as fine as ever. And she had spoken of Uwaine as her son, and she looked at him with pride and affection. Yet her own son must be older yet....\n\nAnd so Morgaine, damn her, has two sons, and I not so much as a fosterling!\n\nMorgaine, seated at Uriens'side down the table, was conscious of Gwenhwyfar's eyes on her. How she hates me! Even now when I can do her no harm! Yet she did not hate Gwenhwyfar; she had even ceased to resent the marriage to Uriens, knowing that in some obscure way it had brought her back to what she had once been-priestess of Avalon. Still, but for Gwenhwyfar, I would have been married to Accolon at this moment, and as it is, we are at the mercy of some servant who might spy onus, or blab to Uriens fora reward... herein Camelot they must be very discreet. Gwenhwyfar would stop at nothing to make trouble." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She should not have come. Yet Uwaine had wished for her to see him knighted, and she was the only mother Uwaine had ever known.\n\nUriens could not, after all, live forever-though sometimes, in the dragging years, she felt that he had decided to rival old King Methuselah-and she doubted that even the stupid pig farmers of North Wales would accept Avalloch asking. If she could only bear Accolon a child, then no one would question that Accolon, at her side, would reign rightly.\n\nShe would have risked it-Viviane, after all, had been nearly as old as she was now when Lancelet was born, and she had lived to see him grown. But the Goddess had not sent her even the hope of conception, and to be honest, she did not want it. Uwaine was son enough for her, and Accolon had not reproached her for childlessness-no doubt he felt that no one would seriously believe it was Uriens' son, though Morgaine doubted not she could persuade her old husband to acknowledge the child his own; he doted on her in everything, and she shared his bed often enough-too often, for her taste.\n\nShe said to Uriens now, \"Let me fill your plate. That roast pig is too rich for you, it will make you ill. Some of those wheaten cakes, perhaps, sopped in the gravy, and here is a fine fat saddle of rabbit.\" She beckoned to a serving-man carrying a tray of early fruits and chose some gooseberries and cherries for her husband. \"Here, I know you are fond of these.\"\n\n\"You are good tome, Morgaine,\" he said, and she patted his arm. It was worth it-all the time she spent in cosseting him, caring for his health, embroidering him fine cloaks and shirts, and even now and then, discreetly, finding a young woman for his bed and giving him a dose of one of her herb medicines which would allow him something like normal virility; Uriens was convinced that she adored him, and never questioned her devotion or denied her anything she asked." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The feasting was breaking up now-people moving about the hall, nibbling at cakes and sweets, calling for wine and ale, stopping to speak to kinsmen and friends whom they saw only once or twice a year. Uriens was still munching his gooseberries; Morgaine asked leave to go and speak to her kinswomen.\n\n\"As you like, my dearest,\" he mumbled. \"You should have cut my hair, my wife, all the Companions are wearing their hair shorn-\"\n\nShe patted his scanty locks and said, \"Oh, no, my dear, I think it is better suited to your years. You do not want to look like a schoolboy, or a monk.\" And, she thought, there is so little of your hair that if you cut it short, your bald spot would shine through like a beacon! \"Look, the noble Lancelet still wears his hair long and flowing, and Gawaine, and Gareth-no one could call them old men!\"\n\n\"You are right, as always,\" Uriens said smugly. \"I suppose it is fitted to a mature man. It is all very well fora boy like Uwaine to clip his hair short.\" And Uwaine, indeed, had shorn his hair close to the nape of his neck in the new fashion. \"I mark there is gray in Lancelet's hair as well-we are none of us young anymore, my dear.\"\n\nYou were a grandsire when Lancelet was born, Morgaine thought crossly, but she only murmured that none of them was as young as they had been ten years ago-a truth with which no one could possibly argue-and moved away.\n\nLancelet was still, she thought, the finest-looking man she had ever seen; next to him even Accolon seemed too perfect, his features too precise. There was grey in his hair, yes, and in the smoothly trimmed beard; but his eyes twinkled with the old smile. \"Good day to you, cousin.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She was surprised at his cordial tone. Yet, she thought, it is true what Uriens said, we are none of us so young anymore, and there are not many of us who remember that time when we were all young together. He embraced her, and she felt his curly beard silky against her cheek." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She asked him, \"Is Elaine not here?\"\n\n\"No, she bore me another daughter but three days since. She had hoped the child would be already born, and she well enough to ride to Pentecost, but it was a fine big girl and she took her own time incoming. We had hoped to have her three weeks ago!\"\n\n\"How many children have you now, Lance?\"\n\n\"Three. Galahad is a big lad of seven, and Nimue is five years old. I do not see them very often, but their nurses say they are clever and quick for their age, and Elaine would name the new little one Gwenhwyfar, for the Queen.\"\n\n\"I think I shall ride north and visit her,\" Morgaine said.\n\n\"She will be glad to see you, I am sure. It is lonely there,\" said Lancelet. Morgaine did not think Elaine would be glad to see her at all, but that was between her and Elaine. Lancelet glanced toward the dais where Gwenhwyfar had taken Isotta of Cornwall to sit at her side while Arthur spoke with Duke Marcus and his nephew. \"Know you yonder Drustan? He is a fine harper, though not like to Kevin, of course.\"\n\nMorgaine shook her head. \"Is Kevin to play at this feast?\"\n\n\"I have not seen him,\" Lancelet said. \"The Queen likes him not-the court is grown too Christian for that, though Arthur values him as a councillor and for his music as well.\"\n\nShe asked him bluntly, \"Are you grown a Christian too?\"\n\n\"I could wish I were,\" he said, sighing from the bottom of his heart. \"That faith seems too simple tome-the idea that we have only to believe that Christ died for our sins once and for all. But I know too much of the truth... of the way lifeworks, with life afterlife in which we ourselves, and only we, can workout the causes we have set in motion and make amends for the harm we have done. It stands not in the realm of reason that one man, however holy and blessed, could atone for all the sins of all men, done in all lifetimes. What else could explain why some men have all things, and others so little? No, that is a cruel trick of the priests, I think, to coax men into thinking that they have the ear of God and can forgive sins in his name-ah, I wish it were true indeed. And some of their priests are fine and sincere men.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I never met with one who was half so learned or so good as Taliesin,\" said Morgaine.\n\n\"Taliesin was a great soul,\" Lancelet said. \"Perhaps one lifetime of service to the Gods cannot create so much wisdom, and he is one of the great ones who has served them for hundreds of years. Next to him, Kevin seems no more fit to be the Lord Merlin than my little son to sit on Arthur's throne and lead his troops into battle. And Taliesin was big enough to make no quarrel with the priests, knowing they served their God as best they could, and perhaps after many lives they would learn that their God was bigger than they thought him. And I know he respected their strength to live chastely.\"\n\n\"That seems tome blasphemy and a denial of life,\" said Morgaine, \"and I know Viviane would have thought it so.\" Why, she wondered, do I stand here arguing religion with Lancelet, of all men?\n\n\"Viviane, like Taliesin, came from another world and another time,\" said Lancelet. \"They were giants in those days, and now we must make do with such as we have. You are so like her, Morgaine. He smiled, a rueful half-smile, and it wrenched her heart; she remembered that he had said something like this to her... nay, she had dreamed it too, but she could not remember all... but he went on,\" I see you herewith your husband and your fine stepson-a credit he will be to the Companions. I always wished you happiness, Morgaine, and for so many years you seemed so unhappy, but now you are queen in your own country, and you have a good son...\"\n\nSurely, she thought, what more could any woman want...?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But now I must go and pay my respects to the Queen-\"\n\n\"Yes,\" she said, and could not keep the bitterness from her voice. \"You would be eager to do that.\"\n\n\"Oh, Morgaine,\" he said, dismayed, \"we have known each other so long, we are all kin, cannot we let the past die? Do you despise me so much, do you still hate her as much as that?\"\n\nMorgaine shook her head. \"I don't hate either of you,\" she said. \"Why should I? But I thought, now you were wedded-and Gwenhwyfar too deserves to be left in peace.\"\n\n\"You have never understood her,\" said Lancelet hotly. \"I well believe you have disliked her since you were both young girls! It is not well done of you, Morgaine! She has repented her sin, and I-well, I am wedded, as you say, to another. But I will not shun her as if she were a leper. If she wants my friendship as her husband's kinsman, it is hers!\"\n\nMorgaine knew he spoke sincerely; well, it was nothing to her. She had now from Accolon what she had so long desired from him... and strangely even that was painful, like the space left by an aching tooth after it was drawn; she had loved him so many years that now when she could look on him without desire, she felt hollow inside. She said softly, \"I am sorry, Lance, I had no wish to make you angry. As you say, it is all past.\"\n\nI daresay he really believes that he and Gwenhwyfar can be no more than friends... maybe for him it is so, and Gwenhwyfar has grown so pious, I doubt it not at all...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So there you are, Lancelet, as always, chattering with the court's most beautiful ladies,\" said a merry voice, and Lancelet turned and caught the newcomer in a bear hug.\n\n\"Gareth! How goes it with you in the North country? And so you too area married man and a householder... is it two children your lady has given you now, or three? Handsome, you are better-looking than ever-even Cai could not mock you now!\"\n\n\"I would like it well to have him back in my kitchens,\" laughed Cai, coming up to clap Gareth on the shoulder. \"Four sons, is it not? But the lady Lionors has twins, like one of the wildcats of your country, does she not? Morgaine, I think you grow ever younger with the years,\" he added, bending over her hand; he had always liked her.\n\n\"But when I see Gareth grown, and such a man, I feel older than the hills themselves.\" Morgaine too laughed. \"A woman knows she is getting old when she looks at every tall young man and says to herself, I knew him before he was breeched....\"\n\n\"And, alas, 'tis true of me, cousin.\" Gareth bent to hug Morgaine. \"I remember, you used to carve me wooden knights when I was no more than a babe-\"\n\n\"You remember still those wooden knights?\" Morgaine was pleased.\n\n\"I do-one of them Lionors keeps with my treasures still,\" Gareth said. \"It is bravely painted in blue and red, and my oldest son would gladly have it, but I treasure it too greatly. Did you know I called it Lancelet when I was a babe, cousin?\"\n\nThe older man laughed too, and Morgaine thought she had never seen Lancelet so carefree and merry as he was now among his friends. \"Your son-he is almost as old as my Galahad, I think. Galahad is a fine boy, though he looks not much like my side of the family. I saw him but a few days ago, for the first time since he was out of breechclouts. And the girls are pretty, or they seem so tome.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gareth turned back to Morgaine and said, \"How does my foster-brother Gwydion, lady Morgaine?\"\n\nShe said shortly, \"I have heard he is in Avalon. I have not seen him,\" and turned away, leaving Lancelet to his friends. But Gawaine joined them, bending to give Morgaine an almost filial embrace.\n\nGawaine was a huge man now, monstrously heavy, with shoulders that looked-and probably were-strong enough to throw down a bull; his face was hacked and bitten with many scars. He said, \"Your son Uwaine seems a fine lad. I think he will make a good knight, and we may need such-have you seen your brother Lionel, Lance?\"\n\n\"No-is Lionel here?\" asked Lancelet, glancing around, and his eyes fell on a tall, sturdy man, wearing a cloak of a strange fashion. \"Lionel! Brother, how goes it with you in your foggy kingdom beyond the seas?\"\n\nLionel came and greeted them, speaking with so thick an accent that Morgaine found it hard to follow his speech. \"All the worse for you not being there, Lancelet-we may have some trouble there, you have heard? You have heard Bors's news?\"\n\nLancelot shook his head. \"I heard nothing later than that he was to marry King Hoell's daughter,\" he said, \"I forget her name-\"\n\n\"Isotta-the same name as the Queen of Cornwall,\" said Lionel. \"But there has been no marriage as yet. Hoell, you must know, is one who can say never yea or nay to anything, but must ponder forever the advantage of alliance with Less Britain or Cornwall-\"\n\n\"Marcus cannot give Cornwall to any,\" said Gawaine dryly. \"Cornwallis yours, is it not, lady Morgaine? I seem to remember Uther gave it to the lady Igraine when he came to the throne, so that you have it of both Igraine and Gorlois, though Gorlois's lands were forfeit to Uther, if I mind the tale aright-it all befell before I was born, though you were a child then.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Duke Marcus keeps the land for me,\" said Morgaine. \"I knew never that he claimed it, though I know once there was talk I should marry Duke Marcus, or Drustan his nephew-\"\n\n\"It would have been well if you had,\" said Lionel, \"for Marcus is a greedy man-he got much treasure with his Irish lady, and I doubt it not, he will try to swallow up all of Cornwall and Tintagel too, if he thinks he can getaway with it, as a fox gets away with a barnyard fowl.\"\n\nLancelet said, \"I liked better the days when we were all but Arthur's Companions. Now I am reigning in Pellinore's country, and Morgaine queen in North Wales, and you, Gawaine, should be king in Lothian, if you had your rights-\"\n\nGawaine grinned at him. \"I have neither talent nor taste for kingship, cousin, I am a warrior, and to dwell always in one place and live at court would weary me to death! I am happy enough that Agravaine shall rule at my mother's side. I think the Tribes have the right of it-women to stay home and rule, and men to wander about and make war. I will not be parted from Arthur, but I admit I grow weary of life in court. Still, a mock battle is better than none.\"\n\n\"I am sure you will win honor and credit,\" said Morgaine, smiling at her cousin. \"How does your mother, Gawaine? I have not yet spoken with her.\" She added, with a touch of malice, \"I have heard she has other help than Agravaine in ruling your kingdom.\"\n\nGawaine chuckled broadly. \"Aye, \"tis all the fashion now-it is your doing, Lancelet. After you married Pellinore's daughter, I suppose Lamorak thought no knight could be great and courtly and win great renown unless he had first been the para-\" He stopped himself at Lancelet's grim face, and amended hastily, \"the chosen champion of a great and beautiful queen. I think it is not just a pose-I think Lamorak truly loves my mother, and I begrudge it not. She was wedded to old King Lot when she was not yet fifteen, and even when I was a little fellow I used to wonder how she could live at peace with him and be always kind and good.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Kind and good is Morgause indeed,\" said Morgaine, \"nor had she any very easy life with Lot." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He may have sought her counsel in all things, but the court was so full of his bastards he had no need to hire men-at-arms, and any woman who came into the court was his lawful prey, even I who was his wife's niece. Such behavior is thought manly in a king, and if any criticize it in Morgause, I will have a word to say to them myself!\"\n\nGawaine said, \"I know well you are my mother's friend, Morgaine. I know too Gwenhwyfar does not like her. Gwenhwyfar-\" He glanced at Lancelet, shrugged, and held his peace. Gareth said, \"Gwenhwyfar is so pious, and no woman has ever had anything to complain about at Arthur's court-perhaps Gwenhwyfar finds it hard to understand that a woman may have cause for wanting more of life than her marriage gives her. As for me, I am fortunate that Lionors chose me of her own freewill, and she is always so busy breeding, or lying-in, or suckling our youngest, that she has no leisure to look at any other man even if she would. Which,\" he added, smiling, \"I hope she has no desire to do, for if she wished for it I think I could deny her nothing.\"\n\nLancelet's face lost its grimness. He said, \"I cannot imagine that a dame married to you, Gareth, would wish to look elsewhere.\"\n\n\"But you must look elsewhere, cousin,\" said Gawaine, \"for there is the Queen looking for you, and you should go and pay your respects as her champion.\"\n\nAnd indeed at that moment one of Gwenhwyfar's little maidens came and said in her childish voice, \"You are sir Lancelet, are you not? The Queen has asked that you will come and speak with her,\" and Lancelet bowed to Morgaine, said, \"We will speak later, Gawaine, Gareth,\" and went away. Gareth watched him, frowning, and muttered, \"Ever he runs when she stretches out her hand.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Did you expect anything else, brother?\" Gawaine said in his easygoing way. \"He has been her champion since she was wedded to Arthur, and if it were otherwise-well, so Morgaine said: such things are considered manly in a king, why should we criticize them in a queen? Nay, 'tis all the fashion now-or have you not heard the tales about yonder Irish queen, married to old Duke Marcus, and how Drustan makes songs for her and follows her about... he is a harper, they say, as fine as Kevin! Have you yet heard him play, Morgaine?\"\n\nShe shook her head. She said, \"You should not call Isotta Queen of Cornwall-there is no queen in Cornwall but I. Marcus reigns there only as my castellan, and if he does not know it, it is time he found it out.\"\n\n\"I do not think Isotta cares what Marcus may call himself,\" said Gawaine, turning to look at the long table where the ladies sat. Morgause had joined Gwenhwyfar and the Irish queen, and Lancelet had come to speak with them; Gwenhwyfar was smiling at Lancelet, and Morgause making some jest which made them laugh, but Isotta of Cornwall was staring at nothing, her exquisite face pale and drawn. \"I never saw any lady who looked so unhappy as yonder Irish queen.\"\n\nMorgaine said, \"If I were married to old Duke Marcus, I doubt I should be happy,\" and Gawaine gave her a rough hug.\n\n\"Arthur did not well when he married you to that grandsire old Uriens, either, Morgaine-are you unhappy too?\"\n\nMorgaine felt her throat tighten, as if Gawaine's kindness would make her weep. \"Perhaps there is not much happiness for women in marriage after all....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I would not say that,\" Gareth said. \"Lionors seems happy enough.\"\n\n\"Ah, but Lionors is married to you,\" Morgaine said, laughing. \"And I could not have that good fortune, I am only your old cousin.\"\n\n\"Still,\" said Gawaine, \"I criticize not my mother. She was good to Lot all his lifelong, and while he lived she never flaunted her lovers in his face. I begrudge her nothing, and Lamorak is a good man and a good knight. As for Gwenhwyfar-\" He grimaced. \"It's God's pity that Lancelet did not take her away from this kingdom while there was still time for Arthur to find him another wife-still, I suppose young Galahad will be a good king in his day. Lancelet is of the old royal line of Avalon, and royal, too, in his blood from Ban of Less Britain.\"\n\n\"Still,\" said Gareth, \"I think your son closer to the throne than his, Morgaine,\" and she remembered that he had been old enough to remember Gwydion's birth. \"And the Tribes would give allegiance to Arthur's sister-in the old days, the sister's son was the natural heir, in the days when rule passed through the blood of the woman.\" He frowned and thought fora moment, then asked, \"Morgaine, is he Lancelet's son?\"\n\nShe supposed the question was natural enough-they had been friends from childhood. But she shook her head, trying to make a jest instead of showing the irritation she felt. \"No, Gareth, if it had been so I would have told you. It would have pleased you so, anything to do with Lancelet. Forgive me, cousins, I should go and speak with your mother-she was always good tome.\" She turned away, making her way slowly toward the dais where the ladies sat; the room was growing more and more crowded as everyone greeted old friends and little knots of people collected." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She had always disliked crowded places, and she had lately spent so much time on the green Welsh hills that she was no longer used to the smell of bodies crowded together and the smoke from the hearth fire. Moving to one side, she collided with a man who staggered under her lightweight and caught at the wall to steady himself, and she found herself face to face with the Merlin.\n\nShe had not spoken with Kevin since the day of Viviane's death. She looked him coldly in the face and turned away.\n\n\"Morgaine-\"\n\nShe ignored him. Kevin said, in a voice as cold as her glance, \"Willa daughter of Avalon turn her face away when the Merlin speaks?\"\n\nMorgaine drew along breath and said, \"If you bid me hear you in the name of Avalon, I am hereto listen. But that suits you not, you who gave Viviane's body to Christian rule. That I calla traitor's deed.\"\n\n\"And who are you to speak of traitor's deeds, lady, who sits as queen in Wales when Viviane's high seat is empty in Avalon?\"\n\nShe flared, \"I sought once to speak in Avalon's name and you bade me hold my peace,\" and bowed her head, not waiting for his reply. No, he is right. How dare I speak of treachery when I fled from Avalon, too young and too foolish to know what Viviane planned? Only now do I begin to know that she gave me a hold on the King's conscience: And I cast it aside unused and let Gwenhwyfar lead him into the hands of the priests. \"Speak, Merlin. Avalon's daughter listens.\"\n\nFora moment he said nothing, but only looked at her, and she remembered, sorrowfully, the years when he had been her only friend and ally at this court. At last he said, \"Your beauty, like Viviane's, ripens with the years, Morgaine. Next to you every woman at this court, including that Irishwoman they call so beautiful, is a painted doll.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She smiled faintly and said, \"You did not stop me in my tracks with the thunders of Avalon to make me pretty compliments, Kevin.\"\n\n\"Did I not? I spoke ill, Morgaine-you are needed in Avalon. She who sits there now is-\" He broke off, troubled. \"Are you so much in love with your elderly husband that you cannot tear yourself away?\"\n\n\"No,\" she said, \"but I do the work of the Goddess there too.\"\n\n\"This much I know,\" he said, \"and so I have told Niniane. And if Accolon can succeed his father, the worship of the Goddess will grow there... but Accolon is not his father's heir, and the older son is a priest-ridden fool.\"\n\n\"Accolon is not king, but Druid,\" Morgaine said, \"and Avalloch's death would avail nothing-they follow Roman ways in Wales now, and Avalloch has a son.\" Conn, she thought, who satin my lap and called me Granny.\n\nAnd Kevin said, as if he had heard her unspoken words: \"The lives of children are uncertain, Morgaine. Many come not to manhood.\"\n\n\"I will do no murder,\" she said, \"even for Avalon, and you may tell them so for me.\"\n\n\"Tell them yourself,\" said Kevin. \"Niniane said tome that you would becoming thereafter Pentecost.\" And now Morgaine felt the empty, cold sickness strike at her stomach and was glad she had eaten but little of the rich food of the feast.\n\nDo they know all, then? Do they watch, judging me, as I betray my old and trusting husband with Accolon? She thought of Elaine, trembling and shamed in the light of the torches that had caught her naked in Lancelet's arms. Do they know even what I plan before I am certain of it myself? But she had done only what the Goddess gave her to do." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What is it that you came to tell me, Merlin?\"\n\n\"Only that your place in Avalon is empty still, and Niniane knows it as well as 1.1 love you well, Morgaine, and I am no traitor-it pains me that you think me so, when you have given me so much.\" He held out his twisted hands. \"Peace, then, Morgaine, between us?\"\n\nShe said, \"In the Lady's name, peace, then,\" and kissed his scarred mouth.\n\nFor him too the Goddess wears my face... and pain struck through her. The Goddess is the giver of life and manhood... and of death. As her lips touched his, the Merlin recoiled, and on his face was naked fear.\n\n\"Do you recoil from me, Kevin? I swear it on my life, I will do no murder. You have nothing to fear-\" she said, but he putout his twisted fingers to stop the words.\n\n\"Make no oath, Morgaine, lest you pay the penalty of the forsworn... none of us knows what the Goddess may demand of us. I too have made the Great Marriage, and my life was forfeit on that day. I live only at the will of the Goddess, and my life is not so sweet that I would begrudge to lay it down,\" he said. Years later Morgaine would remember these words and feel them sweeten the bitterest task of her life. He bent to her, in the salute given only to the Lady of Avalon or to the High Druid, and then, swiftly, turned away. Morgaine stood trembling, watching him go. Why had he done that? And why did he fear her?\n\nShe moved on through the crowds; when she reached the dais, Gwenhwyfar gave her a chilly smile, but Morgause rose and took her into an ample, warm embrace." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Dearest child, you look tired-I know you have little love for crowds!\" She held a silver cup to Morgaine's lips, and Morgaine sipped the wine, then shook her head. She said, \"You seem to grow ever younger, Aunt!\"\n\nMorgause laughed gaily and said, \"Young company does that for me, my dear-saw you Lamorak? While he thinks me beautiful, I think myself so, and so I am... it is the only sorcery I need!\" She traced with her smooth finger a little line beneath Morgaine's eye, and said, \"I recommend it to you, my dear, or you will grow old and cross... are there no handsome young men at Uriens\" court with an eye for their queen?\"\n\nOver her shoulder Morgaine saw Gwenhwyfar's frown of distaste, even though she certainly believed Morgause was joking. At least the tale of my behavior with Accolon is not common gossip here. Then she thought angrily, In the Lady's name, I am not ashamed of what I do, I am not Gwenhwyfar!\n\nLancelet was talking with Isotta of Cornwall. Yes, he would always have an eye for the most beautiful woman in the room, and Morgaine could tell Gwenhwyfar liked it not; Gwenhwyfar said now, with nervous haste, \"Lady Isotta, know you my husband's sister, Morgaine?\"\n\nThe Irish beauty raised her eyes listlessly to Morgaine, and smiled. She was very pale, her chiselled features white as new cream, her eyes that blue that is almost green. Morgaine saw that although she was tall, her bones were so small that she looked like a child hung with jewels and pearls and golden chains which seemed too heavy for her. Morgaine had sudden pity for the girl and withheld the first words that came into her mind, which were, So they call you queen in Cornwall now? I must have words with Duke Marcus! She said only, \"My kinsman told me you are skilled in herbs and medicines, lady. Someday, if we have leisure before I return to Wales, I would like to speak of them with you.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It would be a pleasure,\" said Isotta courteously. Lancelet looked up and said, \"I have told her also that you area musician, Morgaine. Are we to hear you play this day?\"\n\n\"With Kevin here? My music is nothing to his,\" said Morgaine, but Gwenhwyfar shuddered, and interrupted.\n\n\"I wish Arthur would listen tome and send that man from his court. I like it not, to have wizards and sorcerers here, and such an evil face must portend evil within! I know not how you can bear to touch him, Morgaine\n\n-I should think any fastidious woman would be ill if he touched her, yet you embraced and kissed him as if he were a kinsman-\"\n\n\"Clearly,\" said Morgaine, \"I am altogether lacking in proper feelings-and I rejoice at it.\"\n\nIsotta of Cornwall said in her soft, sweet voice, \"If what is without is like to that which is within, then the music Kevin makes must be a sign to us, lady Gwenhwyfar, that the soul within him is indeed that of the highest angels. For no evil man could play as he plays.\"\n\nArthur had come to join them, and had heard the last few words. He said, \"Yet I will not affront my queen with the presence of one distasteful to her-nor will I have the insolence to command the music of such an artist as Kevin for one who cannot receive him with grace.\" He sounded displeased. \"Morgaine, will you play for us, then?\"\n\n\"My harp is in Wales,\" she said. \"Perhaps, if someone can lend me a harp, at another time. The hall is so crowded and noisy, the music would be lost.... Lancelet is as much a musician as I.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lancelot, standing behind him, shook his head. \"Oh, no, cousin. I know one string from another, because I was reared in Avalon and my mother set a harp in my hand fora plaything as soon as I could hold one. But I have not the gift of music as Morgaine has, nor the nephew of Marcus-have you heard Drustan play, Morgaine?\"\n\nShe shook her head, and Isotta said, \"I will ask him to come and play for us.\"\n\nShe sent a page for him, and Drustan came, a slight young man, dark-eyed and dark-haired; he was indeed, Morgaine thought, not unlike Lancelet. Isotta asked him to play, and he called for his harp and sat on the steps of the dais, playing some Breton tunes. They were plaintive and sad, in a very old scale, and they made Morgaine think of the ancient land of Lyonnesse, faraway and sunk past the coastline of Tintagel. He had, indeed, a gift beyond Lancelet's; even, she thought, beyond her own. Though he was not Kevin, nor near to it, he was the finest player, otherwise, that she had heard. His voice, too, was sweet and musical.\n\nUndercover of the music Arthur said softly to Morgaine, \"How is it with you, sister? It is long since you came to Camelot-we have missed you.\"\n\n\"Oh, indeed?\" said Morgaine. \"I thought that was why you married me away into North Wales-that my lady\"-an ironic bow to Gwenhwyfar-\"might not be affronted with the sight of anything distasteful to her, neither Kevin nor me.\"\n\n\"Why, how can you say that?\" demanded Arthur. \"I love you well, you know that, and Uriens is a good man, and he seems to dote on you-certainly he hangs on your every word! I sought to find you a kind husband, Morgaine, one who had sons and would not reproach you should you not give him children. And it was my pleasure this day to make your fine young stepson one of my Companions. What could you ask more than this, my sister?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What, indeed?\" said Morgaine. \"What more could a woman desire than a good husband old enough to be her grandsire, and a kingdom to rule at the far end of the world-I should bow down and thank you on my knees, my brother!\"\n\nArthur sought to take her hand. \"Indeed I did what I thought would please you, sister. Uriens is too old for you, but he will not live forever. Truly, I thought it would make you happy.\"\n\nNo doubt, thought Morgaine, he was telling the exact truth as he saw it. How could he be so good and wise a king, and have so little imagination? Or was this the secret of his kingship, that he held to simple truths and sought for no more? Was this why the Christian faith had lured him, that it was so simple, with a few simple laws?\n\n\"I like that everybody be happy,\" Arthur said, and she knew that this was really the key to his nature; he did indeed seek to see everyone happy, down to the least of his subjects. He had allowed what went on between Gwenhwyfar and Lancelet because he knew it would make his queen unhappy if he parted them, nor would he hurt Gwenhwyfar by taking another wife or a mistress to give him the son she could not.\n\nHe is not ruthless enough to be High King, she thought, while she tried to listen to Drustan's sorrowful songs. Ardiur turned to speaking of the lead and tin mines of Cornwall-she should ride to see to them, Duke Marcus should know that he was not ruler overall that country, and, no doubt, she and Isotta would befriends, they both cared for music-see how intently she listened to Drustan.\n\nIt is not love of music which makes it impossible to take her eyes from him, Morgaine thought, but she did not say so. She considered the four queens who sat at this table, and sighed; Isotta could not take her eyes from Drustan, and who could blame her? Duke Marcus was old and stern, with quick, darting, ill-natured eyes that reminded her of Lot of Orkney. Morgause had beckoned to her young Lamorak and was whispering to him; well, who could blame her? She had been wedded to Lot-and he was no prize-when she was but fourteen, and all the while Lot lived she had been mindful of his pride and never flaunted her young lovers in his face. And I am no better than any of them, cosseting Uriens with one hand and slipping away to Accolon's bed with the other, and justifying myself by calling Accolon my priest...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She wondered if any woman ever did otherwise. Gwenhwyfar was High Queen, and she had first taken a lover... and it seemed to Morgaine that her heart hardened like stone. She and Morgause and Isotta were married to old men, and such was their life. But Gwenhwyfar had been married to a man who was handsome, and no more than her own age, and High King as well-what had she to be discontented with?\n\nDrustan put the harp aside, bowing, and took up a horn of wine to cool his throat. \"I can sing no more,\" he said, \"but if the lady Morgaine would like to take my harp, she is welcome. I have heard of the lady's skill as a musician.\"\n\n\"Yes, sing for us, child,\" said Morgause, and Arthur added his entreaty.\n\n\"Yes, it is long since I heard your voice, and it is still the sweetest voice I have ever heard... perhaps because it is the first voice I remember hearing,\" Arthur said. \"I think you sang me to sleep with lullabies before I could talk plain, and you were no more than a child yourself. Always I remember you best like that, Morgaine,\" he added, and before the pain in his eyes, Morgaine bent her head.\n\nIs this what Gwenhwyfar cannot forgive, that I bear for him the face of the Goddess? She took Drustan's harp and bent her head over the strings, touching them one by one.\n\n\"'Tis tuned differently than mine,\" she said, trying a few strings, and then looked up as there was a commotion in the lower hall. A trumpet blew, harsh and shrill inside the walls, and there was a tramp of armed feet. Arthur half rose, then sank back into his seat as four armed men, bearing sword and shield, strode into the hall." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Cai came to meet them, protesting-it was not allowed to bear weapons into the King's hall at Pentecost. They shoved him roughly to one side.\n\nThe men wore Roman helmets-Morgaine had seen one or two of those preserved in Avalon-and short military tunics and Roman armor, and thick red military cloaks streamed out behind them. Morgaine blinked-it was as if Roman legionaries had walked out of the past; one man bore, at the end of a pike, the carved and gilded figure of an eagle.\n\n\"Arthur, Duke of Britain!\" cried out one of the men. \"We bear you a message from Lucius, Emperor of Rome!\"\n\nArthur rose from his seat and took a single step toward the men in legionary dress. \"I am not Duke of Britain, but High King,\" he said mildly, \"and I know of no Emperor Lucius. Rome has fallen and is in the hands of barbarians-and, I doubt not, impostors. Still, one does not hang the dog for the impertinence of the master. You may say your message.\"\n\n\"I am Castor, centurion of the Valeria Victrix legion,\" said the man who had spoken before. \"In Gaul, the legions have been formed again, behind the banner of Lucius Valerius, Emperor of Rome. The message of Lucius is this-that you, Arthur, Duke of Britain, may continue to rule under that style and designation, provided that you send him, within six weeks, imperial tribute consisting of forty ounces of gold, two dozens of the British pearls, and three wagonloads each of iron, tin, and lead from your country, with a hundred ells of woven British wool and a hundred slaves.\"\n\nLancelet rose from his place, leaped forward into the space before the King." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"My lord Arthur,\" he cried, \"let me flay these impudent dogs and send them yelping back to their master, and tell this idiot Lucius that if he wants tribute from England he may come and try to take it-\"\n\n\"Wait, Lancelet,\" said Arthur gently, smiling at his friend, \"that is not the way.\" He surveyed the legionaries fora moment; Castor had half drawn his sword, and Arthur said grimly, \"No steel maybe drawn on this holy day in my court, soldier. I do not expect a barbarian from Gaul to know the manners of a civilized country, but if you put not your sword back into its sheath, then, I swear, Lancelet may come and take it from you as best he can. And no doubt you have heard of sir Lancelet, even in Gaul. But I want no bloodshed at the foot of my throne.\"\n\nCastor, baring his teeth with rage, thrust his sword back into his sheath. \"I am not afraid of your knight Lancelet,\" he said. \"His days were long gone in the wars with the Saxons. But I was sent as a messenger with orders to shed no blood. What answer may I take the emperor, Duke Arthur?\"\n\n\"None-if you refuse me my proper title in my own hall,\" said Arthur. \"But say this to Lucius: that Uther Pendragon succeeded Ambrosius Aurelianus when there were no Romans to aid us in our death struggle against the Saxons, and I, Arthur, succeeded my father Uther, and my nephew Galahad will succeed me on the throne of Britain. There is none who can lawfully lay claim to the purple of the emperor-the Roman Empire rules no more in Britain. If Lucius wishes to rule in his native Gaul and the people there accept him asking, I will surely not come to contest his claim; but if he lays claim to a single inch of Britain or Less Britain, then he shall have nothing from us but three dozen good British arrowheads where they will do him most good.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Castor, pale with fury, said, \"My emperor foresaw some such impudent answer as this, and this is what he bade me say: that Less Britain is already in his hands, and he has imprisoned King Ban's son Bors, in his own castle. And when the Emperor Lucius has laid all of Less Britain waste, then he will come to Britain, as did the Emperor Claudius of old, and conquer that country again, in despite of all your painted savage chiefs smeared with woad!\"\n\n\"Tell your emperor,\" said Arthur, \"that my offer of three dozen British arrowheads holds good, only now will I raise my offer to three hundred, and he gets no tribute from me but one of them through his heart. Tell him, too, that if he harms a single hair on the head of my Companion sir Bors, I shall give him to Lancelet and Lionel, who are Bors's brothers, to skin him alive and hang his flayed corpse from the castle walls. Now go back to your emperor and give him that message. No, Cai, don't let anyone lay a hand on him-a messenger is sacred to his Gods.\"\n\nThere was an appalled silence as the legionaries strode out of the hall, turning crisply on their heels and letting their mailed boots stamp and ring on the stones. When they had gone a clamor arose, but Arthur raised his hand and quiet fell again.\n\n\"There will be no mock battles on the morrow, for we will have real ones soon,\" he said, \"and for prizes I can offer the plunder of this self-styled emperor. Companions, I would have you ready to ride at daybreak for the coast. Cai, you can handle the provisioning. Lancelet\"-a faint smile as he looked at his friend-\"I would leave you hereto guard the Queen, but since your brother is prisoned, I know you will wish to ride with us. I shall ask the priest to say holy service for those of you who wish to be shriven of any sins before you ride into battle, tomorrow at dawn. Sir Uwaine\"-his eyes sought out his newest Companion where he sat among the younger knights-\"now I can offer you glory in battle instead of war games. I beg you, as my sister's son, to ride at my side and cover my back against treachery.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I am honored, m-my king,\" Uwaine stammered, his face glowing, and in that moment Morgaine saw something of how Arthur had inspired such great devotion.\n\n\"Uriens, my good brother-in-law,\" said Arthur, \"I leave the Queen in your care-remain at Camelot and guard her till I return.\" He bent to kiss Gwenhwyfar's hand. \"My lady, I beg you to excuse us from further feasting-there is war upon us again.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar was white as her shift. \"And you know it is welcome to you, my lord. God keep you, dear husband.\" And she leaned forward to kiss him. He rose and went down from the dais, beckoning.\n\n\"Gawaine, Lionel, Gareth-all of you-Companions, attend me!\"\n\nLancelet delayed fora moment before following him. \"Bid me also God's blessing as I ride, my queen.\"\n\n\"Oh, God-Lancelet-\" Gwenhwyfar said, and, regardless of the eyes on her, she flung herself into his arms. He held her, gently, speaking so softly that Morgaine could not hear, but Morgaine saw that she was weeping. But when she raised her head her face was dry and tearless. \"Godspeed you, my dearest love.\"\n\n\"And God keep you, love of my heart,\" Lancelet said very softly. \"Whether I return or no, may he bless you.\" He turned to Morgaine. \"Now indeed do I rejoice that you are to pay a visit to Elaine. You must bear my greetings to my dear wife, and tell her I have gone with Arthur to the rescue of my kinsman Bors from this knave who calls himself the Emperor Lucius. Tell her I pray God to keep her and care for her, and send my love to our children.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He stood fora moment silent, and fora moment Morgaine thought he would kiss her too; instead, smiling, he laid his hand against her cheek. \"God bless you too, Morgaine-whether or no you want his blessing.\" He turned to join Arthur where the Companions were gathering in the lower hall.\n\nUriens came to the dais and bowed to Gwenhwyfar. \"I am at your service, my lady.\"\n\nIf she laughs at the old man, Morgaine thought with a sudden, fierce protectiveness, I will slap her! Uriens meant well, and the duty was no more than ceremonial, a minor tribute to kinship; Camelot would be very well in the hands of Cai and Lucan, as always. But Gwenhwyfar was accustomed to diplomacy at court. She said gravely, \"I thank you, sir Uriens. You are most welcome here. Morgaine is my dear friend and sister, and I will be happy to have her near meat court again.\"\n\nOh, Gwenhwyfar, Gwenhwyfar, what a liar you are! Morgaine said sweetly, \"But I must ride forth and visit my kinswoman Elaine. Lancelet charged me to bear his news.\"\n\n\"You are always kind,\" said Uriens, \"and since the war is not in our countryside, but across the channel, you shall go when you wish. I would ask Accolon to escort you, but it is likely he must ride with Arthur to the coast.\"\n\nHe really would leave me in Accolon's care; he thinks good of everyone, Morgaine thought, and kissed her husband with real warmth. \"When I have paid my visit to Elaine, my lord, may I have leave to visit my kinswoman in Avalon?\"\n\n\"You may do your own will, my lady,\" said Uriens, \"but before you go, will you unpack my things? My valet can never do it so well as you. And will you leave some of your herbal salves and medicines for me?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"To be sure,\" she said, and as she went to make all ready for her journey, she thought with resignation that no doubt, before they parted, he would want to sleep with her this night. Well, she had endured it before this, she could do so again.\n\nWhat a whore I have grown!\n\nMorgaine knew that she dared make this journey only if she made it one step at a time, one league at a time, one day at a time. Her first step, then, was to Pellinore's castle; bitter irony, that her first mission was a kindly message to Lancelet's wife and his children.\n\nAll that first day she followed the old Roman road northward through rolling hills. Kevin had offered to escort her, and she had been tempted; the old fear gripped her, that she would not find the way to Avalon this time either, not dare to summon the Avalon barge; that she would wander again into the fairy country and be lost there forever. She had not dared go after Viviane's death....\n\nBut now she must meet this test, as when she had first been made priestess... cast out of Avalon alone, with no test save this, that she must be able somehow to return... by her own strength, not Kevin's, she must win entry there again.\n\nStill she was frightened; it had been so long.\n\nOn the fourth day she came within sight of Pellinore's castle, and at noon of that day, riding along the marshy shores of the lake which now bore no trace of the dragon which once had lurked there (though her serving-man and woman shivered and clung together and told each other horrible tales of dragons), she caught sight of the somewhat smaller dwelling which Pellinore had given to Elaine and Lancelet when they were wedded." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was more villa than castle; in these days of peace there were not many fortified places in that countryside. Broad lawns sloped down toward the road, and as Morgaine rode up toward the house, a flock of geese sent up a great squawk.\n\nA well-dressed chamberlain greeted her, asking her name and business.\n\n\"I am the lady Morgaine, wife of King Uriens of North Wales. I bear a message from the lord Lancelet.\"\n\nShe was taken to a room where she could wash and refresh herself, then conducted to the great hall, where afire burned and wheat cakes were set before her, with honey and a flask of good wine. Morgaine found herself yawning at the ceremoniousness of this-she was, after all, a kinswoman, not a state visitor. After a time, a small boy peered into the room, and when he saw that she was alone, came in. He was fair, with blue eyes and a splashing of golden freckles on his face, and she knew at once whose son he was, though he was nothing like his father.\n\n\"Are you the lady Morgaine that they call Morgaine of the Fairies?\"\n\nMorgaine said, \"I am. And I am your cousin, Galahad.\"\n\n\"How do you know my name?\" he asked suspiciously. \"Are you a sorceress? Why do they call you Morgaine of the Fairies?\"\n\nShe said, \"Because I am of the old royal line of Avalon, and fostered there. And I know your name, not from sorcery, but because you look like your mother, who is also my kinswoman.\"\n\n\"My father's name is Galahad too,\" said the child, \"but the Saxons call him Elf-arrow.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Co-writing with the writer, continue the narrative.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 11" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was more villa than castle; in these days of peace there were not many fortified places in that countryside. Broad lawns sloped down toward the road, and as Morgaine rode up toward the house, a flock of geese sent up a great squawk.\n\nA well-dressed chamberlain greeted her, asking her name and business.\n\n\"I am the lady Morgaine, wife of King Uriens of North Wales. I bear a message from the lord Lancelet.\"\n\nShe was taken to a room where she could wash and refresh herself, then conducted to the great hall, where afire burned and wheat cakes were set before her, with honey and a flask of good wine. Morgaine found herself yawning at the ceremoniousness of this-she was, after all, a kinswoman, not a state visitor. After a time, a small boy peered into the room, and when he saw that she was alone, came in. He was fair, with blue eyes and a splashing of golden freckles on his face, and she knew at once whose son he was, though he was nothing like his father.\n\n\"Are you the lady Morgaine that they call Morgaine of the Fairies?\"\n\nMorgaine said, \"I am. And I am your cousin, Galahad.\"\n\n\"How do you know my name?\" he asked suspiciously. \"Are you a sorceress? Why do they call you Morgaine of the Fairies?\"\n\nShe said, \"Because I am of the old royal line of Avalon, and fostered there. And I know your name, not from sorcery, but because you look like your mother, who is also my kinswoman.\"\n\n\"My father's name is Galahad too,\" said the child, \"but the Saxons call him Elf-arrow.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I came hereto bear your father's greetings to you, and to your mother, and to your sisters too,\" Morgaine said.\n\n\"Nimue is a silly girl,\" said Galahad. \"She is a big girl, five years old, but she cried when my father came and would not let him pick her up and kiss her, because she did not recognize him. Do you know my father?\"\n\n\"Indeed I do,\" said Morgaine. \"His mother, the Lady of the Lake, was my foster-mother and my aunt.\"\n\nHe looked skeptical and frowned. \"My mother told me that the Lady of the Lake is an evil sorceress.\"\n\n\"Your mother is-\" Morgaine stopped and softened the words; he was, after all, only a child. \"Your mother did not know the Lady as I did. She was a good and wise woman, and a great priestess.\"\n\n\"Oh?\" She could see Galahad struggling with this concept. \"Father Griffin says that only men can be priests, because men are made in God's image and women are not. Nimue said that she wanted to be a priest when she grew up, and learn to read and write and play upon the harp, and Father Griffin told her that no woman could do all these things, or any of them.\"\n\n\"Then Father Griffin is mistaken,\" said Morgaine, \"for I can do them all and more.\"\n\n\"I don't believe you,\" Galahad said, surveying her with a level stare of hostility. \"You think everyone is wrong but you, don't you? My mother says that little ones should not contradict grown-ups, and you look as if you were not so much older than I. You aren't much bigger, are you?\"\n\nMorgaine laughed at the angry child and said, \"But I am older than either your mother or your father, Galahad, even though I am not very big.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There was astir at the door and Elaine came in. She had grown softer, her body rounded, her breasts sagging-after all, Morgaine told herself, she had borne three children and one was still at the breast. But she was still lovely, her golden hair shining as bright as ever, and she embraced Morgaine as if they had met but yesterday.\n\n\"I see you have met my good son,\" she said. \"Nimue is in her room being punished-she was impertinent to Father Griffin-and Gwennie, thank Heaven, is asleep-she is a fussy baby and I was awake with her much of the night. Have you come from Camelot? Why did my lord not ride with you, Morgaine?\"\n\n\"I have come to tell you about that,\" Morgaine said. \"Lancelet will not ride home for some while. There is war in Less Britain, and his brother Bors is besieged in his castle. All of Arthur's Companions have gone to rescue him and put down the man who would be emperor.\"\n\nBlame's eyes filled with tears, but young Galahad's face was eager with excitement. \"If I were older,\" he said, \"I would be one of the Companions and my father would make me a knight and I would ride with them, and I would fight these old Saxons-and any old emperor too!\"\n\nElaine heard the story and said, \"This Lucius sounds tome like a madman!\"\n\n\"Mad or sane, he has an army and claims it in the name of Rome,\" Morgaine said. \"Lancelet sent me to see you, and bade me kiss his children-though I doubt not this young man is too big to be kissed like a babe,\" she said, smiling at Galahad. \"My stepson, Uwaine, thought himself too big for that when he was about your size, and a few days ago he was made one of Arthur's Companions.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"How old is he?\" asked Galahad, and when Morgaine said fifteen, he scowled furiously and began to reckon upon his fingers.\n\nElaine asked, \"How looked my dear lord? Galahad, runaway to your tutor, I want to speak with my cousin,\" and when the child had gone, she said, \"I had more time to speak with Lancelet before Pentecost than in all the years of our marriage. This is the first time in all these years that I have had more than a week of his company!\"\n\n\"At least he did not leave you with child this time,\" said Morgaine.\n\n\"No,\" said Elaine, \"and he was very considerate and did not seek my bed during those last weeks while we waited together for Gwen's birth-he said that I was so big, it would be no pleasure tome. I would not have refused him, but to tell the truth I think he cared not at all... and there's a confession for you, Morgaine.\"\n\n\"You forget,\" said Morgaine with a grim little smile, \"I have known Lancelet all my life.\"\n\n\"Tell me,\" Elaine said, \"I swore, once, I would never ask you this-was Lancelet your lover, did you ever lie with him?\"\n\nMorgaine looked at her drawn face and said gently, \"No, Elaine. There was a time when I thought-but it came never to that. I did not love him, nor did he love me.\" And to her own surprise, she knew the words were true, though she had never known it before.\n\nElaine stared at the floor, where a patch of sunlight came in through an old, discolored bit of glass that had been there since Roman days. \"Morgaine-while he was at Pentecost, did he seethe Queen?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Since Lancelet is not blind, and since she sat on the dais beside Arthur, I suppose he did,\" Morgaine said dryly.\n\nElaine made an impatient movement. \"You know what I speak of!\"\n\nIs she still so jealous? Does she hate Gwenhwyfar so much? She has Lancelet, she has borne his children, she knows he is honorable, what more does she want? But before the younger woman's nervously twisting hands, the tears which seemed to hang on her eyelashes, Morgaine softened. \"Elaine, he spoke with the Queen, and he kissed her in farewell when the call to arms came. But I vow to you, he spoke as courtier to his queen, not as lover to lover. They have known one another since they were young, and if they cannot forget that once they loved in away that comes not twice to any manor woman, why should you begrudge them that? You are his wife, Elaine, and I could tell when he bade me bear you his message, he loves you well.\"\n\n\"And I swore to be content with no more, did I not?\"\n\nElaine lowered her head fora long moment, and Morgaine saw her blinking furiously, but she did not cry, and at last she raised her head. \"You who have had so many lovers, have you ever known what it is to love?\"\n\nFora moment Morgaine felt herself swept by the old tempest, the madness of love which had flung her and Lancelet, on a sun-flooded hill in Avalon, into each other's arms, which had brought them together again and again, until it all ended in bitterness... by main will she forced away the memory and filled her mind with the thought of Accolon, who had roused again the sweetness of womanhood in her heart and body when she had felt old, dead, abandoned... who had brought her back to the Goddess, who had made her again into a priestess... she felt bands of crimson rising in quick successive waves over her face. Slowly, she nodded. \"Yes, child. I have known-I know what it is to love.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She could see that Elaine wanted to ask a hundred other questions, and she thought how happy it would be to share all this with the one woman who had been her friend since she left Avalon, whose marriage she had made-but no. Secrecy was apart of the power of a priestess, and to speak of what she and Accolon had known would be to bring it outside of the magical realm, make her no more than a discontented wife sneaking to the bed of her stepson. She said, \"But now, Elaine, there is something more to speak of. Remember, you made me avow once-that if I helped you to win Lancelet, you would give me what I asked of you. Nimue is past five years old, old enough for fostering. I ride tomorrow for Avalon. You must make her ready to accompany me.\"\n\n\"No!\" It was along cry, almost a shriek. \"No, no, Morgaine-you cannot mean it!\"\n\nMorgaine had been afraid of this. Now she made her voice distant and hard.\n\n\"Elaine. You have sworn it.\"\n\n\"How could I swear fora child not yet born? I knew not what it meant-oh, no, not my daughter, not my daughter-you cannot take her from me, not so young!\"\n\nAgain Morgaine said, \"You have sworn it.\"\n\n\"And if I refuse?\" Elaine looked like a spitting cat ready to defend her kittens against a large and angry dog.\n\n\"If you refuse,\" Morgaine's voice was as quiet as ever, \"when Lancelet comes home, he shall hear from me how this marriage was made, how you wept and begged me to put a spell on him so that he would turn from Gwenhwyfar to you. He thinks you the innocent victim of my magic, Elaine, and blames me, not you. Shall he know the truth?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You would not!\" Elaine was white with horror.\n\n\"Try me,\" Morgaine said. \"I know not how Christians regard an oath, but I assure you, among those who worship the Goddess, it is taken in all seriousness. And so I took yours. I waited till you had another daughter, but Nimue is mine by your pledged word.\"\n\n\"But-but what of her? She is a Christian child-how can I send her from her mother into-into a world of pagan sorceries...?\"\n\n\"I am, after all, her kinswoman,\" Morgaine said gently. \"How long have you known me, Elaine? Have you ever known me do anything so dishonorable or wicked that you would hesitate to entrust a child tome? I do not, after all, want her for feeding to a dragon, and the days are long, long past when even criminals were burnt on altars of sacrifice.\"\n\n\"What will befall her, then, in Avalon?\" asked Elaine, so fearfully that Morgaine wondered if Elaine, after all, had harbored some such notions.\n\n\"She will be a priestess, trained in all the wisdom of Avalon,\" said Morgaine. \"One day she will read the stars and know all the wisdom of the world and the heavens.\" She found herself smiling. \"Galahad told me that she wished to learn to read and write and to play the harp-and in Avalon no one will forbid her this. Her life will be less harsh than if you had put her to school in some nunnery. We will surely ask less of her in the way of fasting and penance before she is grown.\"\n\n\"But-but what shall I say to Lancelet?\" wavered Elaine.\n\n\"What you will,\" said Morgaine. \"It would be best to tell him the truth, that you sent her to fosterage in Avalon, that she might fill the place left empty there. But I care not whether you perjure yourself to him-you may tell him that she was drowned in the lake or taken by the ghost of old Pellinore's dragon, for all care.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And what of the priest? When Father Griffin hears that I have sent my daughter to become a sorceress in the heathen lands-\"\n\n\"I care even less what you tell him,\" Morgaine said. \"If you choose to tell him that you put your soul in pawn for my sorceries to win yourself a husband, and pledged your first daughter in return-no? I thought not.\"\n\n\"You are hard, Morgaine,\" said Elaine, tears falling from her eyes. \"Cannot I have a few days to prepare her to go from me, to pack such things as she will need-\"\n\n\"She needs not much,\" said Morgaine. \"A change of shift if you will, and warm things for riding, a thick cloak and stout shoes, no more than that. In Avalon they will give her the dress of a novice priestess. Believe me,\" she added kindly, \"she will be treated with love and reverence as the granddaughter of the greatest of priestesses. And they will-what is it your priests say-they will temper the wind to the shorn lamb. She will not be forced to austerities until she is of an age to endure them. I think she will be happy there.\"\n\n\"Happy? In that place of evil sorcery?\"\n\nMorgaine said, and the utter conviction of her words struck Elaine's heart, \"I vow to you-I was happy in Avalon, and everyday since I left, I have longed, early and late, to return thither. Have you ever heard me lie? Come-let me seethe child.\"\n\n\"I bade her stay in her room and spin in solitude till sunset. She was rude to the priest and is being punished,\" said Elaine.\n\n\"But I remit the punishment,\" said Morgaine. \"I am now her guardian and foster-mother, and there is no longer any reason to show courtesy to that priest. Take me to her.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "THEY RODE FORTH the next day at dawn." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nimue had wept at parting with her mother, but even before they were gone an hour, she had begun to peer forth curiously at Morgaine from under the hood of her cloak. She was tall for her age, less like Lancelet's mother, Viviane, than like Morgause or Igraine; fair-haired, but with enough copper in the golden strands that Morgaine thought her hair would be red when she was older. And her eyes were almost the color of the small wood violets which grew by the brooks.\n\nThey had had only a little wine and water before setting out, so Morgaine asked, \"Are you hungry, Nimue? We can stop and break our fast as soon as we find a clearing, if you wish.\"\n\n\"Yes, Aunt.\"\n\n\"Very well.\" And soon she dismounted and lifted the little girl from her pony.\n\n\"I have to-\" The child cast down her eyes and squirmed.\n\n\"If you have to pass water, go behind that tree with the serving-woman,\" said Morgaine, \"and never be ashamed again to speak of what God has made.\"\n\n\"Father Griffin says it is not modest-\"\n\n\"And never speak tome again of anything Father Griffin said to you,\" Morgaine said gently, but with a hint of iron behind the mild words. \"That is past, Nimue.\"\n\nWhen the child came back she said, with a wide-eyed look of wonder, \"I saw someone very small peering out at me from behind a tree. Galahad said you were called Morgaine of the Fairies-was it a fairy, Aunt?\"\n\nMorgaine shook her head and said, \"No, it was one of the Old People of the hills-they areas real as you or I. It is better not to speak of them, Nimue, or take any notice. They are very shy, and afraid of men who live in villages and farms.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Where do they live, then?\"\n\n\"In the hills and forests,\" Morgaine said. \"They cannot bear to seethe earth, who is their mother, raped by the plow and forced to bear, and they do not live in villages.\"\n\n\"If they do not plow and reap, Aunt, what do they eat?\"\n\n\"Only such things as the earth gives them of her freewill,\" said Morgaine. \"Root, berry and herb, fruit and seeds-meat they taste only at the great festivals. As I told you, it is better not to speak of them, but you may leave them some bread at the edge of the clearing, there is plenty for us all.\" She broke off apiece of a loaf and let Nimue take it to the edge of the woods. Elaine had, indeed, given them enough food for ten days' ride, instead of the brief journey to Avalon.\n\nShe ate little herself, but she let the child have all she wanted, and spread honey herself on Nimue's bread; time enough to train her, and after all, she was still growing very fast.\n\n\"You are eating no meat, Aunt,\" said Nimue. \"Is it a fast day?\"\n\nMorgaine suddenly remembered how she had questioned Viviane. \"No, I do not often eat it.\"\n\n\"Don't you like it? I do.\"\n\n\"Well, eat it then, if you wish. The priestesses do not have meat very often, but it is not forbidden, certainly not to a child your age.\"\n\n\"Are they like the nuns? Do they fast all the time? Father Griffin says-\" She stopped, remembering she had been told not to quote what he said, and Morgaine was pleased; the child learned quickly." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She said, \"I meant you are not to take what he says as a guide for your own conduct. But you may tell me what he says and one day you will learn to separate for yourself what is right in what he says, and what is folly or worse.\"\n\n\"He says that men and women must fast for their sins. Is that why?\"\n\nMorgaine shook her head. \"The people of Avalon fast, sometimes, to teach their bodies to do what they are told without making demands it is inconvenient to satisfy-there are times when one must do without food, or water, or sleep, and the body must be the servant of the mind, not the master. The mind cannot beset on holy things, or wisdom, or stilled for the long meditation which opens the mind to other realms, when the body cries out \"Feed me!\" or \"I thirst!\" So we teach ourselves to still its clamoring. Do you understand?\"\n\n\"N-not really,\" said the child doubtfully.\n\n\"You will understand when you are older, then. For now, eat your bread, and make ready to ride again.\"\n\nNimue finished her bread and honey and wiped her hands tidily on a clump of grass. \"I never understood Father Griffin either, but he was angry when I did not. I was punished when I asked him why we must fast and pray for our sins when Christ had already forgiven them, and he said I had been taught heathendom and made Mother send me to my room. What is heathendom, Aunt?\"\n\n\"It is anything a priest does not like,\" said Morgaine. \"Father Griffin is a fool. Even the best of the Christian priests do not trouble little ones like you, who can do no sin, with much talk about it. Time enough to talk about sin, Nimue, when you are capable of doing it, or making choices between good and evil.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nimue got on her pony obediently, but after a time she said, \"Aunt Morgaine-I am not such a good girl, though. I sin all the time. I am always doing wicked things. I am not at all surprised that Mother wanted to send me away. That is why she is sending me to a wicked place, because I am a wicked girl.\"\n\nMorgaine felt her throat close with something like agony. She had been about to mount her own horse, but she hurried to Nimue's pony and caught the girl in a great hug, holding her tight and kissing her again and again. She said, breathlessly, \"Never say that again, Nimue! Never! It is not true, I vow to you it is not! Your mother did not want to send you away at all, and if she had thought Avalon a wicked place she would not have sent you no matter what I threatened!\"\n\nNimue said in a small voice, \"Why am I being sent away, then?\"\n\nMorgaine still held her tight with all the strength of her arms. \"Because you were pledged to Avalon before you were born, my child. Because your grandmother was a priestess, and because I have no daughter for the Goddess, and you are being sent to Avalon that you may learn wisdom and serve the Goddess.\" She noted that her tears were falling, unheeded, on Nimue's fair hair. \"Who let you believe it was punishment?\"\n\n\"One of the women-while she packed my shift-\" Nimue faltered. \"I heard her say, Mother should not have sent me to that wicked place-and Father Griffin has told me often I am a wicked girl-\"\n\nMorgaine sank to the ground, holding Nimue in her lap, rocking her back and forth. \"No, no,\" she said gently, \"no, darling, no. You area good girl. If you are naughty or lazy or disobedient, that is not sin, it is only that you are not old enough to know any better, and when you are taught to do what is right, then you will do so.\" And then, because she thought this conversation had gone far fora child so young, she said, \"Look at that butterfly! I have not seen one that color before! Come, Nimue, let me lift you on your pony now,\" she said, and listened attentively as the little girl chattered on about butterflies." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Alone she could have ridden to Avalon in a single day, but the short legs of Nimue's little pony could not make that distance, so they slept that night in a clearing. Nimue had never slept out of doors before, and the darkness frightened her when they putout the fire, so Morgaine let the child creep into the circle of her arms and lay pointing out one star after another to her.\n\nThe little girl was tired with riding and soon slept, but Morgaine lay awake, Nimue's head heavy on her arm, feeling fear stealing upon her. She had been so long away from Avalon. Step by slow step, she had retraced all her training, or what she could remember; but would she forget some vital thing?\n\nAt last she slept, but before morning it seemed that she heard a step in the clearing, and Raven stood before her. She wore her dark gown and spotted deerskin tunic, and she said, \"Morgaine! Morgaine, my dearest!\" Her voice, the voice Morgaine had heard but once in all her years in Avalon, was so filled with surprise and joy and wonder that Morgaine woke suddenly and stared around the clearing, half expecting to see Raven therein the flesh. But the clearing was empty, except fora trace of mist that blotted out the stars, and Morgaine lay down again, not knowing if she had dreamed, or whether, with the Sight, Raven knew that she was approaching. Her heart was racing; she could feel the beat of it, almost painful inside her chest.\n\nI should never have stayed away so long. I should have tried to return when Viviane died. Even if I died in the attempt, I should have made it.... Will they want me now, old, worn, used, the Sight slowly going from me, with nothing to bring them...?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The child at her side made a small sleepy sound and stirred; she shifted her weight slightly and moved closer into Morgaine's arms. Morgaine put an arm round her, thinking, I bring them Viviane's granddaughter. But if they let me return only for her sake it will be more bitter than death. Has the Goddess cast me out forever?\n\nAt last she slept again, not to waken until it was broad daylight, misty drizzle beginning to fall. With this bad start the day went badly; toward midday Nimue's pony cast a shoe, and, although Morgaine was impatient and would have taken the child up to ride before her-she herself was the lightest of burdens fora horse, who could have carried two her size without trouble-she did not want to lame the pony, so they must turn aside fora village and a blacksmith. She did not want it known or rumored in the countryside that the King's sister rode for Avalon, but now there was no help for it. There was so little news in this part of the land that whatever happened here seemed to fly on wings.\n\nWell, it could not helped; the wretched little animal was not to blame. They delayed and found a small village off the main road. All day the rain fell; even though it was high summer, Morgaine was shivering, and the child was damp and fretful. Morgaine paid little attention to her fussing; she was sorry for her, especially when Nimue began to cry softly for her mother, but that could not be helped either, and one of the first lessons of a priestess in the making was to endure loneliness. She would simply have to cry until she found her own comfort or learned to live without it, as all the maidens in the House had had to learn to do." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was now long past noon, although the overcast was so thick that they could get no hint of the sun. Still, at this time of year, the light lingered late, and Morgaine did not want to spend another night on the road. She resolved to ride as far as they could see their way and was encouraged to see that as soon as they began to ride again, Nimue stopped whimpering and began to take an interest in what they rode past. Now they were very near Avalon. Nimue was so sleepy that she swayed in her saddle and at last Morgaine lifted the little girl from her pony and held her in front of heron the saddle. But the child woke when they came to the shores of the Lake.\n\n\"Are we there, Aunt?\" she asked, as she was set on her feet.\n\n\"No, but it is not far now,\" Morgaine said. \"Within half an hour, if all goes well, you will be ready for supper and bed.\"\n\nAnd if all does not go well? Morgaine refused to think of that. Doubt was fatal to power, and to the Sight.... Five years she had spent, laboriously retracing her steps from the beginning; now it was as it had been before, cast out of Avalon, with no test save this, Have I the power to return...?\n\n\"I don't see anything at all,\" Nimue said. \"Is this the place? But there is nothing here, Aunt.\" And she looked fearfully at the dismal dripping shore, the solitary reeds murmuring to the rain.\n\n\"They will send us a boat,\" said Morgaine.\n\n\"But how will they know we are here? How can they see us in this rain?\"\n\n\"I will call it,\" said Morgaine. \"Be quiet, Nimue.\" Within her echoed the fretful child's cry, but now, when she stood at last on the shores of home, she felt the old knowledge welling up, filling her like a cup overrunning its brim. She bent her head for an instant in the most fervent prayer of her life, then drew along breath and raised her arms in invocation\"." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "For an instant, heartsick with failure, she felt nothing; then, like a slowly descending line of light running down her, it struck through her, and she heard the little girl at her side gasp in sudden wonder; but she had no time for that, she felt her body like abridge of lightning between Heaven and Earth. She did not consciously speak the word of power, but felt it throbbing like thunder through her whole body... silence. Silence, Nimue white and dumb at her side. And then in the dim, dull waters of the Lake there was a little stirring, like mist boiling... and then a shadow, and then, long and dark and shining, the Avalon barge moving slowly out of the patch of mist. Morgaine let her breath go in along sigh that was half a sob.\n\nIt glided noiseless as a shadow to the shore, but the sound of the boat scraping on the land was very real and solid. Several of the little dark men scrambled out and took the horses' heads, bowing low to Morgaine, saying, \"I will lead them by the other path, lady,\" and vanishing into the rain. Another drew back so that Morgaine could first step into the boat, lift the staring child in after her, give a hand to the frightened servants. Still in silence, except for the muttered words of the man who had taken the horses, the boat glided out into the Lake.\n\n\"What is that shadow, Aunt?\" Nimue whispered, as the oars shoved out from shore.\n\n\"It is Glastonbury church,\" said Morgaine, surprised that her voice was so calm. \"It is on the other island, the one we can see from here. Your grandmother, your father's mother, is buried there. Someday, perhaps, you will see her memorial stone.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Are we going there?\"\n\n\"Not today.\"\n\n\"But the boat is going straight toward it-I have heard there is a convent on Glastonbury too-\"\n\n\"No,\" said Morgaine, \"we are not going there. Wait and see, and be quiet.\"\n\nNow would come the true test. They might have seen her from Avalon, with the Sight, and sent the boat, but whether she could open the mists to Avalon... that would be the test of all she had done in these years. She must not try and fail, she must simply arise and do it, without stopping to think. They were now in the very center of the Lake, where another stroke of the oars would take them into the current which ran toward the Isle of Glastonbury.... Morgaine rose swiftly, the flow of her draperies around her, and raised her arms. Again she remembered... it was like the first time she had done this, with a shock of surprise that the tremendous flow of power was silent, when it should blast the sky with thunders... she dared not open her eyes until she heard Nimue cry aloud in fear and wonder....\n\nThe rain was gone, and under the last brilliance of a setting sun, the Isle of Avalon lay green and beautiful before them, sunlight on the Lake, sunlight striking through the ring stones atop the Tor, sunlight on the whitewalls of the temple. Morgaine saw it through a blur of tears; she swayed in the boat and would have fallen, except fora hand laid on her shoulder.\n\nHome, home, I am here, I am coming home....\n\nShe felt the boat scrape on the pebbled shore and composed herself. It seemed not right that she should not be wearing the garb of a priestess, though beneath her gown, as always, Viviane's little knife was belted close around her waist. It seemed not right... her silken veils, the rings on her narrow fingers... Queen Morgaine of North Wales, not Morgaine of Avalon... well, that could be changed. She lifted her head proudly, drawing along breath, and took the child by the hand. However she had changed, however many the years that lay between, she was Morgaine of Avalon, priestess of the Great Goddess. Beyond that Lake of mists and shadows, she might be queen to an elderly and laughable king, in a country faraway... but here she was priestess, and born of the old royal line of Avalon." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She saw without surprise, as she stepped on land, that before her stood a line of bowing servants and behind them, awaiting her, the dark-robed forms of priestesses... they had known and had come to welcome her home. And through the line of priestesses, she saw a face and form she had seen only in a dream, a tall woman, fair-haired and queenly, her golden hair braided low on her forehead. The woman came to Morgaine quickly through the line of the other priestesses, and took her into an embrace.\n\n\"Welcome, kinswoman,\" she said softly. \"Welcome home, Morgaine.\"\n\nAnd Morgaine spoke the name she had heard only in dreams till Kevin spoke it to her, confirming the dream. \"I greet you, Niniane, and I bring you Viviane's granddaughter. She shall be fostered here, and her name is Nimue.\"\n\nNiniane was studying her curiously; what had she heard, Morgaine wondered, in all these years? But then she looked away and stooped to look at the little girl.\n\n\"And this is Galahad's daughter?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Nimue, \"Galahad is my brother. I am the daughter of the good knight Lancelet.\"\n\nNiniane smiled. \"I know,\" she said, \"but here we do not use the name the Saxons gave your father, and he has the same name as your brother, you see. Well, Nimue, have you come to be a priestess here?\"\n\nNimue looked around at the sunset landscape. \"That is what my aunt Morgaine told me. I would like to learn to read and write and play the harp, and know about the stars and all kinds of things as she does. Are you really evil sorceresses here? I thought a sorceress would be old and ugly, and you are very pretty.\" She bit her lip. \"I am being rude again.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Niniane laughed. \"Always speak out the truth, child. Yes, I am a sorceress. I do not think I am ugly, but you must decide for yourself whether I am good or evil. I try to do the will of the Goddess, and that is all anyone can do.\"\n\n\"I will try to do that, if you will tell me how,\" Nimue said.\n\nThe sun dropped below the horizon, and suddenly the shore was all grey twilight. Niniane signalled; a servant holding a single torch reached out to another, and the light passed swiftly from hand to hand until the shore was all ablaze with torchlight. Niniane patted the little girl on the cheek. She said, \"Until you are old enough to know her will for yourself, will you obey the rules here, and obey the women who have you in charge?\"\n\n\"I will try,\" Nimue said, \"but I am always forgetting. And I ask too many questions.\"\n\n\"You may ask as many questions as you want to, when it is the proper time for such things,\" Niniane said, \"but you have been riding all day and it is late, so for tonight the first command I give you is to be a good girl, and go and have supper and a bath and go to your bed. Say farewell to your kinswoman, now, and go with Lheanna to the House of Maidens.\" She gestured to a sturdy, motherly looking woman in the dress of a priestess.\n\nNimue sniffled a little and said, \"Must I say goodbye now? Won't you come and tell me goodbye tomorrow, Aunt Morgaine? I thought I would be with you here.\"\n\nMorgaine said, very gently, \"No, you must go to the House of Maidens, and do what you are told.\" She kissed the petal-soft cheek. \"The Goddess bless you, darling. We will meet again when she wills it.\" And as she spoke she saw this same Nimue grown to tall womanhood, pale and serious with the blue crescent painted between her brows, and the shadow of the Death-crone... she swayed, and Niniane putout a hand to support her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You are weary, lady Morgaine. Send the babe to her rest, and come with me. We can talk tomorrow.\"\n\nMorgaine printed a final kiss on Nimue's brow and the little girl trotted away obediently at Lheanna's side. Morgaine felt a darkening mist before her eyes; Niniane gave her an arm and said, \"Lean on me. Come with me to my quarters where you can rest.\"\n\nNiniane brought her to the dwelling that had once been Viviane's, and to the little room where the priestesses in attendance on the Lady of the Lake slept in their turn. Alone, Morgaine managed to collect herself. Fora moment she wondered if Niniane had brought her to these quarters to emphasize that she, not Morgaine, was Lady of the Lake... then stopped herself; that kind of intrigue was for the court, not for Avalon. Niniane had simply given her the most convenient and secluded of the rooms available. Once Raven had dwelt here, in her consecrated silence, so that Viviane might teach her....\n\nMorgaine washed the grime of travel from her weary body, wrapped herself in the long robe of undyed wool which she found lying across the bed, and even ate some of the food they brought, but did not touch the warmed and spiced wine. There was a stone water jar at the side of the fireplace, and she dipped out a ladleful, drinking, with tears in her eyes.\n\nThe priestesses of Avalon drink only waterfront the Sacred Well.... Again she was the young Morgaine, sleeping within the walls of her own place. She went to bed and slept like a child.\n\nShe never knew what woke her. There was a step in the room, and silence. By the last flicker of the dying firelight and the flooding light of the moon through the shutters, she saw a veiled form, and fora moment she thought that Niniane had come to speak with her; but the hair that flowed over the shoulders was long and dark and the dark face beautiful and still. On one hand she could seethe darkened, thickened patch of an ancient scar... Raven! She sat up and said, \"Raven! Is it you?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Raven's fingers covered her lips, in the old gesture of silence; she came to Morgaine's side, bent over her and kissed her. Without a word, she threw off her long cloak and lay down at Morgaine's side, taking her in her arms. In the dimness Morgaine could seethe rest of the scars running up along the arm and across the pale heavy breast... neither of them spoke a word, then, nor in the time that followed. It seemed that the real world and Avalon had both slipped away, and again she was in the shadows of the fairy country, held close in the arms of the lady.... Morgaine heard in her mind the words of the ancient blessing of Avalon, as Raven touched her slowly, with ritual silence and significance, and the sound seemed to shiver around her in the silence. Blessed be the feet that have brought you to this place... blessed the knees that shall bend before her altar... blessed be the gate of Life....\n\nAnd then the world began to flow and change and move around her, and fora moment it was not Raven in the silence, but a form edged in light, whom she had seen once, years before, at the time when she crossed the great silence... and Morgaine knew that she too was glowing in light... still the deep flowing silence. And then it was only Raven again, lying close to her with her hair perfumed with the herbs they used in the rites, one arm flung over her, her silent lips just touching Morgaine's cheek. Morgaine could see that there were long pale streaks of white in the dark hair.\n\nRaven stirred and raised herself up. Still she did not speak, but she took from somewhere a silver crescent, the ritual ornament of a priestess. Morgaine knew, with a catch of breath, that it was the one she had left on her bed in the House of Maidens on that day when she had fled forth from Avalon with Arthur's child in her womb... silent, after a gasp of half-voiced protest, she let Raven bind it about her neck; but Raven showed her briefly, by the last glint of the setting moon, the flash of a knife blade bound about her own waist. Morgaine nodded, knowing that Viviane's ritual knife would never again while she lived leave her side; she was content that Raven should bear the one she herself had abandoned until one day she saw it bound about Nimue's waist." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Raven took the little razor-sharp knife, and Morgaine watched, stilled into a dream, as she raised it; so be it, even if she wishes hereto shed my blood before the Goddess I tried to flee... but Raven turned the knife toward her own throat; from the breastbone she pricked a single drop of blood, and Morgaine, bowing her head, took the knife and made a slight cut over her heart.\n\nWe are old, Raven and I, we shed blood no longer from the womb but from the heart... and wondered afterward what she had meant. Raven bent to her and licked the blood away from the small cut; Morgaine bent and touched her lips to the small, welling stain at Raven's breast, knowing that this was a sealing long past the vows she had taken when she came to womanhood. Then Raven drew her again into her arms.\n\nI gave up my maidenhood to the Horned One. I bore a child to the God. I burned with passion for Lancelet, and Accolon created me priestess anew in the plowed fields which the Spring Maiden had blessed. Yet never have I known what it was to be received simply in love.... It seemed to Morgaine, half in a dream, that she lay in the lap of her mother... no, not Igraine, but welcomed back into the arms of the Great Mother....\n\nWhen she woke she was alone. Opening her eyes into the sunlight of Avalon, weeping with joy, she wondered fora moment if she had dreamed. Yet over her heart was a small stain of dried blood; and on the pillow beside her lay the silver crescent, the ritual jewel of a priestess, which she had left when she fled from Avalon. Yet surely Raven had bound it about her throat....\n\nMorgaine tied it around her neck on its slender thong. It would never leave her again; like Viviane, she would be buried with this about her neck. Her fingers shook as she knotted the leather, knowing this was a reconsecration. There was something else on the pillow, and fora moment it shifted and changed, an unopened rosebud, a blown rose, and when Morgaine took it into her hand, it was the rose-hip berry, full and round and crimson, pulsing with the tart life of the rose. As she watched, it shrank, withered, lay dried in her hand; and Morgaine suddenly understood." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Flower and even fruit are only the beginning." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In the seed lies the life and the future.\n\nWith along sigh, Morgaine tied the seed into a scrap of silk, knowing that she must go forth again from Avalon. Her work was not completed, and she had chosen the place of her work and her testing when she fled forth from Avalon. One day, perhaps, she might return, but that time had not yet come.\n\nAnd what I am must be hidden, as the rose lies hidden within the seed. She rose then and put on the garments of the queen. The robe of a priestess should be hers again one day, but she had yet to earn again the right to wear it. Then she sat and waited for Niniane to summon her.\n\nWHEN SHE CAME into the central room where she had faced Viviane so often, time swooped and circled and turned on itself so that fora moment it seemed to Morgaine that she must see Viviane sitting where she had so often sat, dwarfed by the high seat and yet impressive, filling the whole room... then she blinked, and it was Niniane there, tall and slight and fair; it seemed to Morgaine that Niniane was no more than a child, sitting in play in the high seat.\n\nAnd then what Viviane had said to her when she stood before her, so many years ago, suddenly rushed over her: you have reached a stage where obedience maybe tempered with your own judgment... and fora moment it seemed to her that her best judgment was to turn aside now, to say to Niniane only such words as might reassure her. And then the surge of resentment came over her at the thought that this child, this foolish and ordinary girl in the dress of a priestess, was presuming to sit where Viviane had sat and to give orders in the name of Avalon. She had been chosen only because she was of the blood of Taliesin.... How does she dare sit here and presume to give orders tome...?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She looked down at the girl, knowing, without being certain how, that she had taken upon herself the old glamour and majesty, and then, with a sudden surge of the Sight, it seemed to her that she read Niniane's thoughts.\n\nShe should be herein my place, Niniane was thinking, how can I speak with authority to Queen Morgaine of the Fairies... and the thought was blurred, half with awe of the strange and powerful priestess before her, and half with simple resentment, if she had not fled from us and forsworn her duty, I would not now be struggling to fill a place for which we both know I am not fit.\n\nMorgaine came and took her hands, and Niniane was surprised at her gentle voice.\n\n\"I am sorry, my poor girl, I would give my very life to return here and take the burden from you. But I cannot, I dare not. I cannot hide here and shirk my given task because I long for my home.\" It was no longer arrogance, nor contempt for the girl who had been thrust, unwilling, into the place which should have been hers, but simple pity for her. \"I have begun a task in the West country which must be completed-if I leave it half done, it were better it had never been begun. You cannot take my place there, and so, may the Goddess help us both, you must keep my place here.\" She bent and embraced the girl, holding her tight. \"My poor little cousin, there is a fate onus both, and we cannot escape it... if I had stayed here, the Goddess would have worked with me one way, but even when I tried to flee my sworn duty, she brought it upon me elsewhere... none of us can escape. We are both in her hands, and it is too late to say it would have been better the other way... she will do with us as she will.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Niniane held rigidly aloof fora moment, then her resentment melted and she clung to Morgaine, almost as Nimue had done. Blinking back tears, she said, \"I wanted to hate you-\"\n\n\"And I, you, perhaps...\" Morgaine said. \"But she has willed otherwise, and before her we are sisters....\" Hesitantly, her lips reluctant to speak the words which had been withheld for so long, she added something else, and Niniane bent her head and murmured the proper response. Then she said, \"Tell me of your work in the West, Morgaine. No, sit here beside me, there is no rank between us, you know that....\"\n\nWhen Morgaine had told her what she could, Niniane nodded. \"Something of this I heard from the Merlin,\" she said. \"In that country, then, men turn again to the old worship... but Uriens has two sons, and the elder is his father's heir. Your task then is to make certain that Wales has a king from Avalon-which means that Accolon must succeed his father, Morgaine.\"\n\nMorgaine closed her eyes and sat with bent head. At last she said, \"I will not kill, Niniane. I have seen too much of war and bloodshed. Avalloch's death would solve nothing-they follow Roman ways there now, since the priests have come, and Avalloch has a son.\"\n\nNiniane dismissed that. \"A son who could be reared to the old worship-how old is he, four years old?\"\n\n\"He was so when I came to Wales,\" said Morgaine, thinking of the child who had satin her lap and clung to her with his sticky fingers and called her Granny. \"Enough, Niniane. I have done all else, but even for Avalon, I will not kill.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Niniane's eyes flamed blue sparks at her. She raised her head and said, warning, \"Never name that well from which you will not drink!\"\n\nAnd suddenly Morgaine realized that the woman before her was priestess, too, not merely the pliant child she had seemed; she could not be where she was, she could never have passed the tests and ordeals which went into the making of a Lady of Avalon, if she had not been acceptable to the Goddess. With unexpected humility, she realized why she had been sent here. Niniane said, almost in warning, \"You will do what the Goddess wills when her hand is laid upon you, and that I know by the token you bear...\" and her eyes rested upon Morgaine's bosom as if she could see through the folds of the gown to the seed which lay there, or to the silver crescent on its leather thong. Morgaine bent her head and whispered, \"We are all in her hands.\"\n\n\"Be it so,\" said Niniane, and fora moment it was so silent in the room that Morgaine could hear the splash of a fish in the Lake beyond the borders of the little house. Then she said, \"What of Arthur, Morgaine? He bears still the sword of the Druid Regalia. Will he honor his oath at last? Can you make him honor it?\"\n\n\"I do not know Arthur's heart,\" Morgaine said, and it was a bitter confession. I had power over him, and I was too squeamish to use it. I flung it away.\n\n\"He must swear again to honor his oath to Avalon, or you must get the sword from him again,\" said Niniane, \"and you are the only person living to whom this task might be entrusted. Excalibur, the sword of the Holy Regalia, must not remain in the hands of one who follows Christ. You know Arthur has no son by his queen, and he has named the son of Lancelet, Galahad by name, to be his heir, since now the Queen grows old.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine thought, Gwenhwyfar is younger than I, and I might still bear a child if I had not been so damaged in Gwydion's birth. Why are they so certain she will never bear? But before Niniane's certainty she asked no questions. There was magic enough in Avalon, and no doubt they had hands and eyes at Arthur's court; and indeed the last thing they would wish would be that the Christian Gwenhwyfar should bear Arthur a son... not now.\n\n\"Arthur has a son,\" said Niniane, \"and while his day is not yet, there is a kingdom he can take-a place to begin the recapture of this land for Avalon. In the ancient ways, the king's son meant little, the son of the Lady was all, and the king's sister's son was his heir... know you what I mean, Morgaine?\"\n\nAccolon must succeed to the throne of Wales. Morgaine heard it again, and then what Niniane did not say: And my son... is the son of King Arthur. Now it all made sense. Even her own barrenness after Gwydion's birth. But she asked, \"What of Arthur's heir-Lancelet's son?\"\n\nNiniane shrugged and fora moment Morgaine wondered, horrified, whether it was intended to give Nimue the same hold on Galahad's conscience that she had been given on Arthur's.\n\n\"I cannot see all things,\" said Niniane. \"Had you been Lady here-but time has moved on and other plans must be made. Arthur may yet honor his oath to Avalon and keep the sword Excalibur, and then there will be one way to proceed. And he may not, and there will be another way which she will prepare, to which end we each have our tasks. But whether or no, Accolon must come to rule in the West country, and that is your task. And the next king will rule from Avalon. When Arthur falls-though his stars say he will live to be old-then the king of Avalon will rise. Or else, the stars say, such darkness will fall over this land that it will be as if he had never been. And when the next king takes power, then will Avalon return into the mainstream of time and history... and then there will be a subject king over the western lands, ruling his Tribespeople. Accolon shall rise high as your consort-and it is for you to prepare the land for the great king from Avalon.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Again Morgaine bowed her head and said, \"I am in your hands.\"\n\n\"You must return now,\" said Niniane, \"but first there is one you must know. His time is not yet... but there will be one more task for you.\" She raised her hand, and as if he had been waiting in an anteroom, a door opened and a tall young man came into the room.\n\nAnd at the sight Morgaine caught her breath, with a pain so great that it seemed fora moment that she could not breathe. Here was Lancelet reborn-young and slender as a dark flame, his hair curling about his cheeks, his narrow dark face smiling... Lancelet as he had been on that day when they lay together in the shadow of the ring stones, as if time had slipped and circled back as in the fairy country....\n\nAnd then she knew who it must be. He came forward and bent to kiss her hand. His walk was Lancelet's too, the flowing movements that seemed almost a dance. But he wore the robes of a bard, and on his forehead was the small tattoo of an acorn crest, and about his wrists the serpents of Avalon writhed. Time reeled in her mind.\n\nIf Galahad is to be king in the land, is my son then the Merlin, tanist and dark twin and sacrifice? Fora moment it seemed she moved among shadows, king and Druid, the bright shadow who sat beside Arthur's throne as queen, and herself who had borne Arthur's shadow son... Dark Lady of power.\n\nShe knew anything she said would be foolish. \"Gwydion. You are not like your father.\"\n\nHe shook his head. \"No,\" he said, \"I bear the blood of Avalon. I looked once on Arthur, when he made a pilgrimage to Glastonbury of the priests-I went there unseen in a priest's robe. He bows overmuch to the priests, this Arthur our king.\" His smile was fleeting, feral." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You have no reason to love either of your parents, Gwydion,\" said Morgaine, and her hand tightened on his, but she surprised a fleeting look in his eyes, icy hatred... then it was gone and he was the smiling young Druid again.\n\n\"My parents gave me their best gift,\" Gwydion said, \"the royal blood of Avalon. And one more thing I ask of you, lady Morgaine.\" Irrationally she wished he had called her, just once, by the name of Mother.\n\n\"Ask, and if I can give, it is yours.\"\n\nGwydion said, \"It is not a great gift. Surely not more than five years hence, Queen Morgaine, you will lead me to look on Arthur and let him know that I am his son. I am aware\"-a quick, disturbing smile-\"that he cannot acknowledge meas his heir. But I wish him to look on the face of his son. I ask no more than that.\"\n\nShe bent her head. \"Surely I owe you that much, Gwydion.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar might think what she liked-Arthur had already done penance for this. No man could be other than proud of this grave and priestly young Druid. Nor should she... after all these years, she knew it... feel shame for what had been, as now she knew she had felt it all these years since she fled from Avalon. Now that she saw her son grown, she bowed before the inevitability of Viviane's Sight.\n\nShe said, \"I vow to you that day will come, I swear it by the Sacred Well.\" Her eyes blurred, and angrily she blinked back the rebellious tears. This was not her son; Uwaine, perhaps, washer son, but not Gwydion. This dark, handsome young man so like the Lancelet she had loved as a girl, he was not her son looking for the first time on the mother who had abandoned him before he was weaned; he was priest and she priestess of the Great Goddess, and if they were no more to each other than that, at least they were no less." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She put her hands to his bent head and said, \"Be thou blessed.\"\n\nQueen Morgause had long ceased to repine that she had not the Sight. Yet twice, in the last days of falling leaves, when the red larch trees stood bare in the icy wind that blew over Lothian, she dreamed of her foster-son Gwydion; and she was not at all surprised when one of her servant folk told her that a rider was on the road.\n\nGwydion wore a strangely colored cloak, coarse and with a clasp of bone such as she had never seen, and when she would have wrapped him in her arms, he shrank away, wincing.\n\n\"No, Mother-\" He put his free arm around her and explained, \"I caught a sword cut therein Brittany-no, it is not serious,\" he reassured her. \"It did not fester and perhaps I shall not even have a scar, but when it is touched it cries out tome!\"\n\n\"You have been fighting in Brittany, then? I thought you safe in Avalon,\" she remonstrated, as she led him within and set him by the fire. \"I have no southern wine for you-\"\n\nHe laughed. \"I am weary of it-barley beer is enough for me, or some of the firewater if you have it... with hot water and honey if there is any. I am stiff with riding.\" He let one of the women draw off his boots and hang his cloak to dry, leaning back at ease.\n\n\"So good it is to be here, Mother-\" He set the steaming cup to his lips and drank with pleasure.\n\n\"And you came so far, riding in the cold with a wound? Was there some great tidings that needed to tell?\"\n\nHe shook his head. \"None-I was homesick, no more,\" he said. \"It's all so green and lush and damp there, with fog and church bells... I longed for the clean air of the fells, and the gulls\" cry, and your face, Mother...\" He reached out for the cup he had set down, and she saw the serpents about his wrists. She was not greatly versed in the lore of Avalon, but she knew they were the sign of the highest rank of the priesthood. He saw her glance and nodded, but said nothing." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Was it in Brittany you got you that ugly cloak, so coarse-woven and low, fit only fora serving-man?\"\n\nHe chuckled. \"It kept the rain from me. I took it from a great chief of the foreign lands, who fought under the legions of that man who called himself Emperor Lucius. Arthur's men made short work of that one, believe me, and there was plunder for all-I have a silver cup and a golden ring in my packs for you, Mother.\"\n\n\"You fought in the armies of Arthur?\" Morgause asked. She had never thought he would do this; he saw the surprise in her face and laughed again.\n\n\"Yes, I fought under that great King who fathered me,\" he said, with a grin of contempt. \"Oh, fear not, I had my orders from Avalon. I took care to fight among the warriors of Ceardig, the Saxon chief of the treaty men who loves me well, and to come not under Arthur's eyes. Gawaine knew me not, and I was careful not to let Gareth see me except when I was shrouded in a cloak like that-I lost my own cloak in battle, and feared if I was wearing a cloak of Lothian, Gareth would come to look on a wounded countryman, so I got this one....\"\n\n\"Gareth would have known you anywhere,\" said Morgause, \"and I hope you do not think your foster-brother would ever betray you.\"\n\nGwydion smiled, and Morgause thought that he looked very like the little boy who had once satin her lap. He said, \"I longed to make myself known to Gareth, and when I lay wounded and weak, I came near to doing so. But Gareth is Arthur's man, and he loves his king, I could see that, and I would not put that burden on my best of brothers,\" he said. \"Gareth-Gareth is the only one-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He did not finish the sentence, but Morgause knew what he would have said; stranger as he was everywhere, Gareth was his brother and his beloved friend. Abruptly he grinned, chasing away the remote smile that made him look so young. \"All through the Saxon armies, Mother, I was asked again and again if I was Lancelet's son! I cannot seethe resemblance so much myself, but then I am not really familiar with my own face... I look into a mirror only when I shave myself!\"\n\n\"Still,\" said Morgause, \"anyone who had seen Lancelet, especially anyone who knew him in youth, could not look on you without knowing you his kinsman.\"\n\n\"Some such thing as that I said-I put on a Breton accent, sometimes, and said I too was kinsman to old King Ban,\" Gwydion said. \"Yet I would think our Lancelet, with the face which makes him a magnet to all maids, would have fathered enough bastards that it would not be such a marvel to all men that one should go about wearing his face! Not so? I wondered,\" he said, \"but all I heard of Lancelet was that it might be that he had fathered a son on the Queen and the child was spirited away somewhere to be fostered by that kinswoman of hers whom they married off to Lancelet.... Tales of Lancelet and the Queen are many, each wilder than the next, but all agree that for every other woman the Gods made, he has nothing but courtesy and fair words. There were even women who flung themselves at me, saying that if they could not have Lancelet, they would have his son....\" He grinned again. \"It must have been hard for the gallant Lancelet. I have eye enough fora fair woman, but when they push themselves on me so, well...\" He shrugged, comically. Morgause laughed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Then the Druids have not robbed you of that, my son?\"\n\n\"By no means,\" he said. \"But most women are fools, so that I prefer not to trouble myself making play with those who expect me to treat them as something very special, or to pay heed to what they say. You have spoilt me for foolish women, Mother.\"\n\n\"Pity the same could not have been said of Lancelet,\" said Morgause, \"for never did anyone think Gwenhwyfar had more wits than she needed to keep her girdle tied, and where Lancelet was concerned, I doubt she had that much,\" and she thought, You have Lancelet's face, my boy, but you have your mother's wit!\n\nAs if he had heard her thoughts, he set down the empty cup, and waved away a serving-girl who would have scurried to refill it. \"No more, I am so weary that I will be drunk at another taste! Supper I would have. I have had enough of hunter's fortune, I am sick of meat, and long for home food-porridge and bannock.... Mother, I looked on the lady Morgaine at Avalon before I left for Brittany.\"\n\nNow why, Morgause wondered, does he say this tome? It could not be looked for that he should have much love for his mother, and then she felt sudden guilt. I made sure he should not love any but me. Well, she had done what she must, and she did not regret it.\n\n\"How looks my kinswoman?\"\n\n\"She looks not young,\" said Gwydion, \"it seemed tome that she was older than you, Mother.\"\n\n\"No,\" Morgause said, \"Morgaine is younger than I by ten years.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Still, she looks worn and old, and you...\" He smiled at her, and Morgause felt the flood of sudden happiness. She thought, None of my own sons have I loved as this one. Morgaine did well to leave him to my care.\n\n\"Oh,\" she said, \"I grow old too, my lad... I had a grown son when you were born!\"\n\n\"Then you are twice the sorceress she is,\" said Gwydion, \"for one could swear you had dwelt long in the fairy country with time never touching you... you look tome as you did the day I rode away for Avalon, Mother mine.\" He reached out his hand to hers and brought it to his lips and kissed it, and she came and put her arm round him, careful to avoid his wound. She stroked the dark hair. \"So Morgaine is queen now in Wales.\"\n\n\"True,\" Gwydion said, \"and high, I hear, in favor with the King... Arthur has made her stepson Uwaine a member of his own personal bodyguard, next to Gawaine, and he and Gawaine are close friends. Uwaine's not a bad fellow-not unlike Gawaine, I'd say-tough and staunch, both of them, and devoted to Arthur as if the sun rose and set where he pissed...\" and Morgause noted the wry smile. \"But then it's a fault many men have-and I came hereto speak of this to you, Mother,\" he said. \"Know you anything of Avalon's plan?\"\n\n\"I know what Niniane said, and the Merlin, when they came to take you thither,\" said Morgause. \"I know you are to be Arthur's heir, even though he believes he will leave the kingdom to that son of Lancelet's. I know you are the young stag who will bring down the King Stag...\" she said in the old language, and Gwydion raised his brow." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Then you know it all,\" he said. \"But this, perhaps, you do not know... it cannot be done now. Since Arthur brought down this Roman who would be emperor, this Lucius, his star has never flamed higher than now. Anyone who raised a hand against Arthur would be torn in pieces by the mob, or by his Companions-never have I seen a man so loved. This, I think, is why I needed to look from afar on his face, to see what is it in a king which makes him so loved....\"\n\nHis voice fell away into silence and Morgause felt ill at ease. \"And did you so?\"\n\nGwydion nodded slowly. \"He is a king indeed... even I who have no cause to love him felt that spell he creates around him. You cannot imagine how he is worshipped.\"\n\n\"Strange,\" said Morgause, \"I for one never thought him so remarkable.\"\n\n\"No, be fair,\" said Gwydion. \"There are not many-perhaps there is no other within this land who could have rallied all factions as he did! Romans, Welsh, Cornish, West-countrymen, East Anglians, men of Brittany, the Old People, the men of Lothian... all through this kingdom, Mother, all menswear by Arthur's star. Even those Saxons who once fought Uther to the death, stand and swear that Arthur shall be their king. He is a great warrior... no, not in himself, he fights no better than any other warrior, not half so well as Lancelet or even Gareth, but he is a great general. And it is something... something in himself,\" Gwydion said. \"It is easy to love him. And while all worship him thus, I have no possible task.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said Morgause, \"their love of him must somehow be made less. He must be discredited. He is no better than any other man, the Gods know that. He fathered you on his own sister, and it is well known here and abroad that he plays no very noble part with his queen. There is a name fora man who sits complacent while another man pays court to his queen, and not so pretty a name, after all.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Take the role of the writer's aide, proceed with the narrative.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 11" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Then you know it all,\" he said. \"But this, perhaps, you do not know... it cannot be done now. Since Arthur brought down this Roman who would be emperor, this Lucius, his star has never flamed higher than now. Anyone who raised a hand against Arthur would be torn in pieces by the mob, or by his Companions-never have I seen a man so loved. This, I think, is why I needed to look from afar on his face, to see what is it in a king which makes him so loved....\"\n\nHis voice fell away into silence and Morgause felt ill at ease. \"And did you so?\"\n\nGwydion nodded slowly. \"He is a king indeed... even I who have no cause to love him felt that spell he creates around him. You cannot imagine how he is worshipped.\"\n\n\"Strange,\" said Morgause, \"I for one never thought him so remarkable.\"\n\n\"No, be fair,\" said Gwydion. \"There are not many-perhaps there is no other within this land who could have rallied all factions as he did! Romans, Welsh, Cornish, West-countrymen, East Anglians, men of Brittany, the Old People, the men of Lothian... all through this kingdom, Mother, all menswear by Arthur's star. Even those Saxons who once fought Uther to the death, stand and swear that Arthur shall be their king. He is a great warrior... no, not in himself, he fights no better than any other warrior, not half so well as Lancelet or even Gareth, but he is a great general. And it is something... something in himself,\" Gwydion said. \"It is easy to love him. And while all worship him thus, I have no possible task.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said Morgause, \"their love of him must somehow be made less. He must be discredited. He is no better than any other man, the Gods know that. He fathered you on his own sister, and it is well known here and abroad that he plays no very noble part with his queen. There is a name fora man who sits complacent while another man pays court to his queen, and not so pretty a name, after all.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Something, I am sure, can be made of that,\" said Gwydion." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Though in these late years, it is said, Lancelet has stayed far from court and taken care never to be alone with the Queen, so that no shadow of scandal shall fall on her name. Yet they say she wept like a child, and so did Lancelet, when he took leave of her to go and fight at Arthur's side against this Lucius, and never did I see man fight as did Lancelet. One would think he longed to fling himself headlong into death. But he took never even a wound, as if his life was charmed. I wonder... he is the son of a High Priestess of Avalon,\" he mused. \"It maybe he bears supernatural protection of some sort.\"\n\n\"Morgaine would know that,\" said Morgause dryly, \"but I would not suggest you ask her.\"\n\n\"I do know that Arthur's life is charmed,\" said Gwydion, \"for he bears the sacred Excalibur, sword of the Druid Regalia, and a magical scabbard which guards him from shedding blood. Without it, so Niniane told me, he would have bled himself to death at Celidon Wood, and after that.... Morgaine has been given as her first task to get this sword again from Arthur, unless he will swear anew to be true to Avalon. And I doubt not my mother is wily enough to do so. I doubt she would stop at much, my mother. Of the two, I think I like my father better-he knew not what evil he had wrought when he got me, I think.\"\n\n\"Morgaine knew not that, either,\" said Morgause sharply.\n\n\"Oh, I am weary of Morgaine... even Niniane has fallen under her spell,\" said Gwydion sharply. \"Do not you begin to defend her tome, Mother.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgause thought, Viviane was even so, she could charm any man alive to do her will, and any woman either... Igraine went pliant at her bidding towed with Gorlois and later to seduce Uther... and Ito Lot's bed... and now Niniane has done what Morgaine wished. And this foster-son of hers had, she suspected, something of that power, too. She recalled, suddenly and with unexpected pain, Morgaine with her head bent, having her hair combed like a child, on the night she bore Gwydion; Morgaine, who had been to her as the daughter she never bore, and now she was torn between Morgaine and Morgaine's son, who was even dearer to her than her own sons. \"Do you hate her so, Gwydion?\"\n\n\"I know not how I feel,\" said Gwydion, looking up at her with Lancelet's dark mournful eyes. \"It seems not to run with the vows of Avalon that I should so hate the mother who bore me and the father who got me.... I would that I had been reared at court as my father's son and his sworn follower, not his bitterest enemy....\"\n\nHe laid his head down on his arms and said through them, \"I am weary, Mother. I am weary and sick of fighting, and I know Arthur is so, too... he has brought peace in these isles-from Cornwall to Lothian. I do not like to think that this great king, this great man, is my enemy and that for the sake of Avalon I must bring him down to nothing, to death or dishonor. I would rather love him, as all men do. I would like to look on my mother-not you, Mother, but lady Morgaine-I would like to look on her who bore meas my mother, not as the great priestess whom I am sworn to obey whatever she bids me. I would that she were my mother, not the Goddess. I wish that when Niniane lay in my arms she were no more than my own dear love, whom I love because she has your sweet face and your lovely voice.... I am so weary of gods and goddesses... I would that I had been your son and Lot's and no more than this, I am so weary of my fate....\" And he lay fora long moment quiet, his face hidden, his shoulders shaking. Tentatively, Morgause stroked his hair. At last he raised his head and said, with a bitter grin that defied her to make anything of his moment of weakness, \"I will have now another cup of that strong spirit they brew in these hills, without the water and honey this time...\" and when it was brought, he drained it, without even looking on the steaming porridge and bannock the girl had brought. \"What was it said in those old books of Lot's, when the house priest beat Gareth and me until our backsides were bloody, trying to teach us the Roman tongue? Who was yonder old Roman who said, \"Call no man happy until he is dead\"? My task, then, is to bring that greatest of all happinesses to my father, and why should I then rebel against that fate?\" He signalled for another drink; when Morgause hesitated, he seized the flask and poured the cup full again." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You will be drunk, my dear son." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Eat your supper first, will you not?\"\n\n\"So I will be drunk,\" said Gwydion bitterly. \"So let it be. I drink to death and to dishonor... Arthur's and mine!\" Again he drained the drinking horn and flung it into a corner, where it struck with a metallic sound. \"So let it be as the fates have ordained-the King Stag shall rule in the forest until the day the Lady has ordained... for all the beasts were born and joined with others of their kind and lived and worked the will of the forces of life and at last gave up their spirits into the keeping of the Lady again....\" He spoke the words with a strange, harsh emphasis, and Morgause, untrained in Druid lore, knew that the words were those of ritual, and shivered as he spoke them.\n\nHe drew a deep breath. Then he said, \"But for tonight I shall sleep in my mother's house and forget Avalon, and kings, and stags, and fates. Shall I not? Shall I not?\" and, as the strong drink at last overpowered him, he fell forward into her arms. She held him there, stroking his fine dark hair, so much like Morgaine's own, as he slept with his head on her breast. But even in his dreams he twitched and moaned and muttered as if his dreams were evil, and Morgause knew it was not only the pain of his unhealed wound.\n\nBook Four\n\nThe Prisoner in the Oak\n\nIn far hills of North Wales, rain had been falling day after day, and the castle of King Uriens seemed to swim in fog and damp. The roads were ankle-deep mud, the fords swollen as rivers rushed down in spate from the mountains, and damp chill gripped the countryside. Morgaine, wrapped in cloak and heavy shawl, felt her fingers stiffening and slowing on the shuttle as she sent it through the loom; suddenly she started upright, the shuttle falling from her cold hands." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What is it, Mother?\" Maline asked, blinking at the sharp sound in the quiet hall.\n\n\"There is a rider on the road,\" Morgaine said. \"We must make ready to welcome him.\" And then, observing her daughter-in-law's troubled look, she cursed herself; again she had let herself slip into the half-trance which women's work always brought upon her nowadays. She had long ago ceased to spin, but weaving, which she enjoyed, had seemed safe if she kept her wits about her and didn't succumb to the drowsy trancelike monotony of it.\n\nAnd Maline was looking at her in the half-wary, half-exasperated way which Morgaine's unexpected seeings always evoked. Not that Maline believed there was anything wicked or even magical about them-it was just her mother-in-law's queer way. But Maline would speak of them to the priest, and he would come again and try to be subtle about asking her whence they came, and she would have to put on a meek-woman face and pretend she didn't know what he was talking about. Someday she would be too weary or too unguarded to care, and she would speak her mind to the priest. Then he would really have something to talk about....\n\nWell, done was done, and could not be helped now. She got along well enough with Father Eian, who had been Uwaine's tutor-he was an educated man fora priest. \"Tell the Father that his pupil will be here at dinnertime,\" Morgaine said, and once again realized that her tongue had slipped; she had known Maline had been thinking of the priest and had responded to Maline's thought, not her words. She went out of the room leaving the younger woman staring.\n\nAll the winter, which had been heavy with rain and snow and repeated storms, not a single traveller had come. She dared not spin; it opened the gates too quickly to trance. Now, weaving was likely to do the same. She sewed industriously at making clothes for all the folk of the household, from Uriens down to Maline's newest baby, but it was hard on her eyes to do fine needlework; in the winter she had no access to fresh herbs and plants, and could do little with brewing simples and medicines. She had no companion-her waiting-women were the wives of Uriens\" men-at-arms and duller than Maline; not one of them could spell out so much as averse in the Bible and were shocked that Morgaine could read and write and knew some Latin and Greek. And she could not sit always at her harp. So she had spent the winter in a frenzy of boredom and impatience..." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "... the worse, she thought, because the temptation was always thereto sit and spin and dream, letting her mind slide away, to follow Arthur at Camelot, or Accolon on quest-it had come to her, three years ago, that Accolon should spend enough time at court that Arthur should know him well and trust him. Accolon bore the serpents of Avalon, and that might prove a valuable bond with Arthur. She missed Accolon like a constant ache; in his presence she was what he always saw her-high priestess, confident of her goals and herself. But that was secret between them. In the long, lonely seasons, Morgaine experienced recurrent doubts and dreads; was she then no more than Uriens thought her, a solitary queen growing old, body and mind and soul drying and withering?\n\nStill, she kept her hand firmly on this household, over countryfolk and castlefolk alike, so that all should turn to her for counsel and wisdom. They said in the country around: The queen is wise. Even the king does nothing without her consent. The Tribesmen and the Old Ones, she knew, came near to worshipping her; though she dared not appear too often at the ancient worship.\n\nNow in the kitchen house she made arrangements fora festal dinner-or as near to it as they could come at the end of along winter when the roads were closed. Morgaine gave from the locked cupboards some of her hoarded store of raisins and dried fruits, and a few spices for cooking the last of the bacon. Maline would tell Father Eian that Uwaine was expected at the hall for dinner. She herself should bear the tidings to Uriens.\n\nShe went up to his chamber, where he was lazily playing at dice with one of his men-at-arms; the room smelled frowsty and unaired, stale and old. At least his long siege with the lung fever this winter has meant I need not be expected to share his bed. It has been just as well, Morgaine thought dispassionately, that Accolon has spent this winter in Camelot with Arthur; we might have taken dangerous chances and been discovered." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Uriens set down the dice cup and looked up at her. He was thinner, wasted by his long struggle with the fever. There had been a few days when Morgaine thought he could not live, and she had fought hard for his life; partly because, in spite of everything, she was fond of him and did not want to see him die, partly because Avalloch would have succeeded to his throne the moment he died.\n\n\"I have not seen you all day. I have been lonely, Morgaine,\" Uriens said, with a fretful note of reproach. \"Huw, here, is not half so good to look at.\"\n\n\"Why,\" Morgaine said, tuning her voice to the broad jesting Uriens liked, \"I have left you purposely alone, thinking that in your old age you had taken a taste for handsome young men... if you do not want him, husband, does that mean that I can have him?\"\n\nUriens chuckled. \"You are making the poor man blush,\" he said, smiling with broad good nature. \"But if you leave me alone all day, why, what am Ito do but moon and make sheep's eyes at him, or at the dog.\"\n\n\"Well, I have come to give you good news. You shall be carried down to the hall for dinner tonight-Uwaine is riding hither and will be here before suppertime.\"\n\n\"Now God be thanked,\" Uriens said. \"I thought this winter that I should die without seeing either of my sons again.\"\n\n\"I suppose Accolon will return for the Midsummer festivals.\" In her body Morgaine felt a stab of hunger so great that it was pain as she thought of the Beltane fires, now only two months away.\n\n\"Father Eian has been at me again to forbid the rites,\" Uriens said peevishly. \"I am tired of hearing his complaints. He has it in mind that if we cut down the grove, then the folk would be content with his blessing of the fields, and not turn away to the Beltane fires. It is true that there seems more and more of the old worship every year-I had thought that as the old folk died off, year by year, it would grow ever less. I was willing to let it die outwith the Old People who could not accustom themselves to new ways. But if the young people now are turning back to heathen ways, then we must do something-perhaps, even, cut down the grove.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If you do, I shall do murder, Morgaine thought, but schooled her voice to gentleness and reason. \"That would be wrong. The oaks give pig food and food for the country people-even here we have had to use acorn flour in a bad season. And the grove has been therefor hundreds of years-the trees are sacred-\"\n\n\"You sound too much a pagan yourself, Morgaine.\"\n\n\"Can you say the oak grove is not the work of God?\" she retorted. \"Why should we punish the harmless trees because foolish men make a use of them dial Father Eian does not like? I thought you loved your land.\"\n\n\"Well, and so I do,\" said Uriens fretfully, \"but Avalloch, too, says I should cut it down, so that the pagans should have no place of resort. We might build a church or chapel there.\"\n\n\"But the Old Ones are your subjects too,\" Morgaine said, \"and in your youth you made the Great Marriage with the land. Would you deprive the Old People of the grove that is their food and shelter, and their own chapel built by the very hands of God and not of man? Would you then condemn them to die or starve as they have done in some of the cleared lands?\"\n\nUriens looked down at his gnarled old wrists. The blue tattoos there had almost faded and were no more than pale stains. \"Well are you called Morgaine of the Fairies-the Old People could have no better advocate. Since you plead for their shelter, my lady, I will spare the grove while I live, but after me, Avalloch must do as he will. Will you fetch me my shoes and robe, so that I may dine in hall like a king, and not an old dodderer in bedgown and slippers?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"To be sure,\" said Morgaine, \"but I cannot lift you now." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Huw will have to dress you.\"\n\nBut when the man had finished his work, she combed Uriens'hair and summoned the other man-at-arms who awaited the king's call. The two men lifted him, making a chair between their arms, and carried him into the hall, where Morgaine placed cushions about his high seat and watched as the thin old body was deposited there.\n\nBy that time she could hear servants bustling about, and riders in the courtyard... Uwaine, she thought, hardly raising her eyes as the young man was escorted into the hall.\n\nIt was hard to bear in mind that this tall young knight, with broad shoulders and a battle scar along one cheek, was the scrawny little boy who had come to her, like a wild animal tamed, in her first lonely, desperate year at Uriens'court. Uwaine kissed his father's hand, then bent before Morgaine.\n\n\"My father. Dear mother-\"\n\n\"It's good to see you home again, lad,\" said Uriens, but Morgaine's eyes were on the other man who followed him into the hall. Fora moment she did not believe it, it was like seeing a ghost-surely if he were really here I would have seen him with the Sight... and then she understood. I have been trying so hard not to think of Accolon, lest I go mad...\n\nAccolon was slenderer than his brother, and not quite so tall. His eyes darted to Morgaine, one swift furtive look as he knelt before his father, but his voice was wholly correct when he turned to her. \"It is good to be home again, lady-\"\n\n\"It is good to have you here,\" she said steadily, \"both of you. Uwaine, tell us how you got that dreadful scar on your cheek. Since the defeat of Emperor Lucius, I thought all men had pledged to Arthur to make no further trouble!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The usual,\" said Uwaine lightly. \"Some bandit who moved into a deserted fort and amused himself by preying on the countryside and calling himself a king. Lot's son Gawaine went with me and we made short work of him, and Gawaine got himself a wife out of it-the lady is a widow with rich lands. As for this-\" He touched the scar lightly. \"While Gawaine fought the master I took the man-an ugly bastard who fought left-handed and got through my guard. Clumsy, too-I'd rather fight a good swordsman than a bad, any day! If you'd been there, Mother, I wouldn't have quite such a scar-the surgeon who stitched it up for me had hands like cabbages! Has it spoilt my looks as much as that?\"\n\nMorgaine reached out and gently touched her stepson's slashed cheek. \"You will always be handsome tome, my son. But perhaps I can still do something-there is festering there and swelling; before I sleep I will make you a poultice for it, so that it will heal better. It must pain you.\"\n\n\"It does,\" Uwaine admitted, \"but I thought myself lucky not to get the lockjaw from it, which one of my men did. Ai, what a death!\" He shuddered. \"When the wound swelled, I thought I was for it, too, and my good friend Gawaine said, as long as I could drink wine I was in no danger-and he kept me well supplied, too. I swear I was drunk fora fortnight, Mother!\" He guffawed. \"I would have given all the plunder of that bandit's castle for some of your soup-I couldn't chew bread or dried meat, and I nearly starved to death. I did lose three teeth....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She rose and peered at the wound. \"Open your mouth. Yes,\" she said, and gestured to one of the servants. \"Bring sir Uwaine some stew, and some stewed fruit, too,\" she said. \"You must not even try to chew hard food fora while. After supper, I'll see to it.\"\n\n\"I won't say no to that, Mother. It still hurts like the devil, and besides, there's a girl at Arthur's court-I don't want her to shrink away as if I were a devil face.\" He chuckled. But for all the pain in his wound he ate hugely, telling tales of the court until they were all laughing. Morgaine dared not take her eyes from her stepson, but all through the meal she could feel Accolon's eyes on her, warming her as if she were standing in sunlight after the winter's chill.\n\nIt was a merry meal, but at last Uriens began to look weary and Morgaine summoned his body servants. \"This is the first day you have left your bed, my husband-you must not weary yourself too much.\"\n\nUwaine rose and said, \"Let me carry you, Father.\" He stooped and lifted the sick man as if he were a child. Morgaine, following, turned back before leaving the dining hall to say, \"See to all things here, Maline-I will bandage Uwaine's cheek before I go to rest.\"\n\nSoon Uriens was tucked into bed in his own chamber, Uwaine standing beside him while Morgaine went to the kitchens to brew a poultice for his cheek. She had to prod the cook awake and set him to heating more water over the kitchen fire... she should have a brazier and a cauldron in her own rooms if she was going to do this kind of work, why had she never thought of it before? She went up and sat Uwaine down so that she could poultice his cheek with the hot cloths wrung in steaming herb brew, and the young man sighed with relief as the poultice began to draw out the soreness from the festered wound." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh, but that's good, Mother-that girl at Arthur's court wouldn't know how to do this. When I marry her, Mother, will you teach her some of your craft? Her name is Shana, and she's from Cornwall. She was one of Queen Isotta's ladies-how is it that Marcus calls himself king in Cornwall, Mother? I thought Tintagel belonged to you.\"\n\n\"So it does, my son, from Igraine and Duke Gorlois. I knew not that Marcus thought to reign there,\" Morgaine said. \"Does Marcus dare to claim Tintagel as his own?\"\n\n\"No, for the last I heard he had no champion there,\" Uwaine said. \"Sir Drustan has gone into exile in Brittany-\"\n\n\"Why? Was he one of the Emperor Lucius' men?\" asked Morgaine. This talk of the court was a breath of life in the deadness of this isolated place.\n\nUwaine shook his head. \"No... there was talk that he and Queen Isotta had been overfond of each other,\" he said. \"One can hardly blame the poor lady... Cornwallis the end of the world, and Duke Marcus is old and peevish and his chamberlains say he is impotent too-hard life for the poor lady, while Drustan is handsome and a harper, and the lady fond of music.\"\n\n\"Have you no gossip of court save of wickedness and other men's wives?\" demanded Uriens, scowling, and Uwaine laughed. \"Well, I told the lady Shana that her father might send a messenger to you, and I hope, dear father, that when he comes you will not refuse him. Shana is not rich, but I have no great need of a dowry, I won goods enough in Brittany-I shall show you some of my plunder, and I have gifts for my mother, too.\" He raised his hand to stroke Morgaine's cheek as she bent over him, changing the poultice fora fresh one. \"Well I know you are not such a woman as that lady Isotta, to turn your back on my good old father and play the harlot.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Her cheeks stung; she bent over the kettle of steaming herbs, wrinkling her nose at the bitter scent." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Uwaine thought her the best of women, and his trust was sweet to her, yet there was the bitterness of knowing it unmerited.\n\nAt least I have never made Uriens look a fool, nor yet flaunted any other lover in his face....\n\n\"But you should go to Cornwall, when my father is well enough to travel,\" Uwaine said seriously, flinching a little as the heat of the poultice touched anew spot on his festered cheek. \"There should be a clear understanding, Mother, that Marcus cannot lay claim to what is yours. You have not shown your face in Tintagel for so long that the common people may forget they have a queen.\"\n\n\"I'm sure it will not come to that,\" said Uriens. \"But if I am well again this summer, I will ask Arthur, when I ride to Pentecost, about this matter of Morgaine's lands.\"\n\n\"And if Uwaine marries into Cornwall,\" said Morgaine, \"he shall keep Tintagel for me-would you like to be my castellan, Uwaine?\"\n\n\"I would like nothing better,\" said Uwaine, \"except, perhaps, to sleep tonight without forty separate toothaches in my jaw.\"\n\n\"Drink this,\" said Morgaine, pouring one of her medicines from a small flask into his wine, \"and I can promise you sleep.\"\n\n\"I would sleep without it, I think, madam, I am so glad to be in my own home and my own bed, under my mother's care.\" Uwaine bent and embraced his father, and kissed Morgaine's hand. \"But I will take your medicines willingly.\" He swallowed the medicined wine and beckoned to one of Uriens' men-at-arms to light him to his own room. Accolon came and embraced his father, and said, \"I too am for my bed... lady, are there pillows there, or is the room empty and bare? I have not been home in so long, I expect to find pigeons roosting in that old room where I used to sleep and Father Eian tried to beat Latin into my head through the seat of my breeches.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I told Maline to be sure you had everything you needed,\" said Morgaine, \"but I will come and see. Will you need me again this night, my lord,\" she asked, turning to Uriens, \"or shall I too go to my rest?\"\n\nOnly a soft snore answered her, and his man Huw, settling the old man on the pillows, answered, \"Go, lady Morgaine. If he wakes in the night I'll look after him.\"\n\nAs they went out, Accolon asked, \"What ails my father?\"\n\n\"He had the lung fever this winter,\" said Morgaine, \"and he is not young.\"\n\n\"And you have had all the weight of caring for him,\" Accolon said. \"Poor Morgaine-\" and he touched her hand; she bit her lip at his tender voice. Something hard and cold inside her, frozen there since the winter, was melting and she thought she would dissolve into weeping. She bent her head and did not look at him.\n\n\"And you, Morgaine-not a word or a look for me-?\" He reached out and touched her, and she said between clenched teeth, \"Wait.\"\n\nShe called a servant to fetch fresh bolsters, a blanket or two from the store. \"Had I known you were coming, I would have had the best linens and blankets, and fresh bed straw.\"\n\nHe said in a whisper, \"It is not fresh straw I want in my bed,\" but she refused to turn her face to him while the serving-women were making the bed up, bringing hot water and light, and hanging up his armor and outer garments.\n\nWhen they were all away fora moment he whispered, \"Later, may I come to your room, Morgaine?\"\n\nShe shook her head and whispered back, \"I will come to you-I can have some excuse for being out of my chamber in the middle of the night, but since your father has been ill, often they come to fetch me-you must not be found there-\" and she gave him a quick, silent pressure of her fingers. It was as if his hand burned her. Then she went with the chamberlain on the last rounds of the castle to make sure that all was locked and secure." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"God give you a goodnight, lady,\" he said, bowing, and went away." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She tiptoed through the hall where the men-at-arms slept, moving on noiseless feet; along the stairs, past the room where Avalloch slept with Maline and the younger children, the room where young Conn had slept with his tutor and his foster-brothers before the poor lad had succumbed to the lung fever. In the farther wing were Uriens' own chamber, one she now kept for herself, another room usually allotted to guests of importance, and at the far end, the room where she had left Accolon. She stole toward his room, her mouth dry, hoping he had had the sense to keep his door ajar... the walls were old and thick and there would be noway he could hear her at his door.\n\nShe looked into her own room; went in, swiftly, and disarranged the bed clothing. Her own waiting-woman, Ruach, was old and deaf, and in the winter past Morgaine had cursed her for her deafness and stupidity, but now that would serve her... even so, she must not wake in the morning and find Morgaine's bed untouched; even old Ruach knew that King Uriens was not well enough to share his bed with the queen.\n\nHow often have I told myself, I am not ashamed of what I do... yet she must not bring scandal on her name, or she could accomplish nothing here. But she hated the need for secrecy and furtiveness.\n\nHe had left the door ajar. She slipped inside, her heart pounding, and pushed the door shut; felt herself seized in a hungry embrace that waked her body into fierce life. His mouth closed on hers as if he had starved for this as much as she... it seemed as if the whole winter's desolation and pain fell away and that she was like melting ice, that she would flood and overflow.... She pressed her body to Accolon's and fought to keep from crying." }, { "from": "human", "value": "All her resolve that Accolon was no more to her than priest of the Goddess, that she would not allow any personal tie between them, had gone for nothing in the face of this wild hunger in her." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She had felt so much scorn for Gwenhwyfar, bringing the court to scandal and her king into contempt, because he could not keep his wife in order. But now, in Accolon's arms, all her resolve melted. She sank down in his embrace and let him carry her to his bed.\n\nThe night was far advanced when Morgaine slipped away from Accolon's side. He lay heavily asleep; she ran her fingers over his hair, kissed him softly, and stole from the room. She had not slept-she had feared to sleep too long and be surprised thereby day. It was more than an hour before sunrise. Morgaine rubbed her burning eyes. Somewhere outside a dog barked, a child wailed and was hushed, birds chirped in the garden. Morgaine thought, looking out through a narrow slit in the stonewall, In another moon it will be full daylight at this hour. She leaned fora moment against the wall, overcome by memories of the night past.\n\nI never knew, she thought, I have never known what it was to be only a woman. I have borne a child and I have been married for fourteen years and I have had lovers... but I knew nothing, nothing....\n\nShe felt a sudden rough hand on her arm. Avalloch's hoarse voice said, \"What are you doing sneaking around the house at this hour, girl?\"\n\nHe had evidently mistaken her for one of the servant-women; some of them were small and dark with the blood of the Old Ones.\n\n\"Let me go, Avalloch,\" she said, looking at the dimly seen face of her older stepson. He was heavy and soft, his jowls blurred with fat, his eyes small and set close. Accolon and Uwaine were handsome men, and one could see that once Uriens had been good-looking in his own way. But not Avalloch." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well, my lady mother!\" he said, stepping back and giving her an exaggerated bow. \"I repeat, what were you doing at this hour?\"\n\nHis hand remained on her arm; she picked it off as if it were a crawling bug. \"Must I account for my movements to you? It is my house and I move in it as I will and that is my only answer.\" He dislikes me, she thought, almost as much as I dislike him.\n\n\"Don't play games with me, madam,\" said Avalloch. \"Do you think I do not know in whose arms you spent the night?\"\n\nShe said, contemptuously, \"Now is it you who play with sorcery and the Sight?\"\n\nHis voice dropped and took on a cozening sound. \"Of course it must be dull for you, wed to a man old enough to be your father-but I would not hurt my father's feelings by telling him where his wife spends her nights, provided\"-he put his arm round her and by main force drew her close to him. He bent his head and nibbled on her neck, his unshaven cheek scratching her-\"provided you come and spend some of them with me.\"\n\nShe pulled away from him and tried to make her voice jocular. \"Come now, Avalloch, why should you pursue your old stepmother when the Spring Maiden is yours, and all the pretty young maidens in the village-\"\n\n\"But I have always looked on you as a beautiful woman,\" he said, and his hand stole out to caress her shoulder, sliding under the half-fastened front of her robe. She pulled away again and his face twisted into a snarl. \"Why play the modest maiden with me? Was it Accolon or Uwaine, or both at once?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "She stared at him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Uwaine is my son! I am the only mother he can remember!\"\n\n\"Am Ito think that would stop you, lady Morgaine? It was common talk at Arthur's court that you were Lancelet's paramour and tried to lure him from the Queen, and that you shared the Merlin's bed-that you had not stopped at making unlawful love to your own brother, and that was why the King sent you from court, that you might tempt him no more from Christian ways-why should you stop at your stepson? Does Uriens know what kind of incestuous harlot he took for his wife, madam?\"\n\n\"Uriens knows everything about me that he has any need to know,\" said Morgaine, surprised that her voice was so steady. \"As for the Merlin, we were then both unwed and neither of us cares anything for the laws of a Christian court. Your father knew and absolved me of that. None but he has any right to complain of my conduct since then, and when he does so I will answer to him, as I need not answer to you, sir Avalloch. And now I will go to my own room, and Ibid you do the same.\"\n\n\"So you throw the pagan laws of Avalon at me,\" Avalloch said, his voice a sneering growl. \"Harlot, how dare you claim you are so good-\" He grabbed her; his mouth crushed hers. Morgaine stabbed her stiffened fingers into his belly; he grunted and let her go with a curse. She said angrily, \"I claim nothing. I need not answer to you for my conduct, and if you speak to Uriens, I will tell him that you laid hands on me in a fashion unseemly for your father's wife, and we will see whom he will believe.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Avalloch snarled, \"Let me tell you, lady, you may cozen my father as you will, but he is old, and on the day I am made king in this land, be sure there will be no more grace extended to those who have lived on because my father cannot forget that once he wore the serpents!\"\n\n\"Oh, rare,\" said Morgaine scornfully. \"First you make advances to your fadier's wife, and then you boast of how good a Christian you will be when your father's land is yours!\"\n\n\"You first bewitched me-harlot!\"\n\nMorgaine could not keep back her laughter. \"Bewitch you? And why? Avalloch, if all men save you vanished from the earth, I would sooner share my bed with one of the puppies! Your father maybe old enough to be my grandsire, but I would sooner lie with him than you! Do you think I am jealous of Maline, when every time you go down to the village at harvest or spring-plowing festival she sings? If I made such an enchantment, it would not be to enjoy your manhood but to wither it! Now get your hands off me, and go back to whoever will have you, for if you touch me again with one fingertip I swear I will blast your manhood!\"\n\nHe believed she could do it; that was clear from the way he shrank from her. But Father Eian would hear of this, and then he would question her, and he would question Accolon, and he would question the servants, and then he would beat Uriens again to cut down the sacred grove and put down the old worship. Avalloch would not stop until he had set this whole court by the ears.\n\nI hate Avalloch! Morgaine was surprised that her rage was physical, a scalding pain beneath her breastbone, a shaking through her whole body. Once I was proud; a priestess ofAvalon does not lie. And now there is something about which I must auoid the truth. Even Uriens would see meas a treacherous wife, creeping in secret to Accolon's bed for her own lusts.... She was weeping with rage, feeling Avalloch's hot hands again on her arm and her breast. Now, soon or late, she would be accused, and even if Uriens trusted her, she would be watched. Ah, I was happy for the first time in many years and now it is all spoilt...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Well, the sun was rising, soon the housefolk would be waking, and she must make arrangements for the work of the day." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Had he been only guessing? Uriens must keep his bed, certainly Avalloch would not disturb his father this day. She must brew some more of the herb medicine for Uwaine's face wound, and the roots of one of his broken teeth must be dugout, too.\n\nUwaine loved her-surely he would not listen to any accusation Avalloch might make. And at that, she felt the flooding, surging fury again, remembering Avalloch's words: Was it Accolon or Uwaine, or both at once...? I am as much Uwaine's mother as if I had borne him! What kind of woman does he think me? But was that rumor indeed in Arthur's court, that she had committed incest with Arthur, himself? How, then, in the face of that, can I bring Arthur to acknowledge Gwydion his son? Galahad is Arthur's heir, but my son must be acknowledged, and the royal line of Avalon. But there must be no further scandal about me, certainly not any hint that I have committed incest with my stepson....\n\nAnd she wondered a little at herself. She had flown into a desperate rage when she knew she was to bear Arthur's son and now it seemed trivial to her; after all, she and Arthur had not even known themselves brother and sister. But Uwaine-no blood kin to her-was far more her son than Gwydion; she had mothered Uwaine....\n\nWell, there was nothing to be done about it now. Morgaine went to the kitchen and heard the cook complain that all the bacon was gone, and the storerooms were near enough empty to make it hard to feed all these homecomers.\n\n\"Well, we must send Avalloch to hunt today,\" said Morgaine, and stopped Maline on the stairs as she carried up her husband's morning drink of hot wine." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Maline said, \"I saw you talking with Avalloch-what did he have to say to you?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She frowned a little, and Morgaine, reading her thoughts as it was easy to do with a woman as stupid as Maline, realized that her daughter-in-law feared and resented her; thought it unfair that Morgaine should still be slim-bodied and hard when she, Maline, was heavy and worn with childbearing, that Morgaine should have glossy dark hair when Maline herself, busied with babies, never had time to comb and plait her own, and make it shine.\n\nMorgaine said truthfully, but also with a wish to spare her daughter-in-law's feelings, \"We spoke of Accolon, and of Uwaine. But the storerooms are nearly empty, and Avalloch must go hunting for boar.\" And then what she must do flashed full-blown into her head, and fora moment she stood frozen, hearing Niniane say in mind and memory, Accolon must succeed his father, and her own voice replying.... Maline was staring at her, waiting for her to finish what she was saying, and Morgaine quickly collected herself. \"Tell him that he must go out after boar, today if he can, tomorrow at the latest, or we shall be eating the last of the flour too soon.\"\n\n\"Certainly I will tell him, Mother,\" said Maline. \"He will be glad to have an excuse to be away.\" And through Maline's complaining voice, Morgaine knew the younger woman was relieved that it had been nothing worse.\n\nPoor woman, married to that pig. She remembered, troubled, exactly what Avalloch had said, On the day I am made king in this land, there will be no more grace extended to those who have lived on because my father cannot forget that once he wore the serpents.\n\nThis, then, washer task: to make certain that Accolon should succeed his father, not for her own sake or for revenge, but for the sake of the old worship which she and Accolon had brought back to this land. If I had half an hour to tell Accolon all, he would go with Avalloch hunting, and I doubt not that would solve all. And she thought, with cold calculation, Shall I keep my hands clean of this, and leave it to Accolon?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Uriens was old; but he might live another year, or another five years. Now that Avalloch knew all, he would work with Father Eian to undermine any influence Accolon and Morgaine might have, and all that she had done would be undone again.\n\nIf Accolon wants this kingdom, perhaps it is he who should make certain of it. If Avalloch dies of poison, it is I who will die fora sorceress. Yet if she left it to Accolon-then would it be all too much like that old ballad, the one which began, Two brothers went a-hunting....\n\nShall I tell Accolon, and let him act in his rage? Troubled, still not certain what she would do, she went up to find Accolon in his father's room, and as she came in she heard him say, \"Today Avalloch goes to hunt boar-the storeroom is near to empty. And I will ride with him. It is all too long since I have hunted in my own hills-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No,\" Morgaine said sharply. \"Stay with your father today. He will need you, and Avalloch has all his huntsmen to help him.\"\n\nShe thought, Somehow I must tell him what I mean to do, and then she stopped herself. If he knew what she planned-though she was not yet sure herself what form her necessity would take-he would never accede to it, except perhaps in his first anger at hearing what Avalloch had said to her.\n\nAnd if he did, she thought-though I thought I knew him better than that, still my own hunger for his body might have deceived me, and he maybe less honorable than I think him-if he were such a one as would consent to be party to this, then he would be kin slayer and under that curse, and not such a one as I could trust for what lies before us. Avalloch is kin tome by marriage alone; there is no blood tie to dishonor. Only if I had borne Uriens a son would there be blood guilt on me. Now, she was glad she had given Uriens no son.\n\nAccolon said, \"Let Uwaine stay with father-if his cheek wound is being poulticed still, it is he that should stay indoors and keep to the fireside.\"\n\nHow can I make him understand? His hands must be clean; he must be here when the news comes... what can I say to him to make him understand that this is important, perhaps the most important thing I shall ever ask of him? Urgency, and the impossibility of voicing her inner thoughts, made her voice sharp.\n\n\"Will you do as I ask you without argument, Accolon? If I am to tend Uwaine's wound too, I shall have no leisure to tend your father as well, and he has been left to serving-folk all too often of late!\" And your father, if the Goddess is with me, shall have more need of you at his side than ever, before this day is ended...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She slurred her words, hoping Uriens would not understand what she was saying. \"As your mother I ask it,\" she said, but what she was saying to Accolon, with all the force of her thoughts, was, From the Mother I command it.... \"Obey me,\" she said and, turning a little away from Uriens, so that Accolon alone could see, she touched the faded blue crescent on her forehead. Accolon looked at her-puzzled, questioning-but she turned away, shaking her head slightly, hoping that at least he would understand why she could not speak more freely.\n\nHe said, frowning, \"Certainly, if you wish it so much. It is no hardship to stay with my father.\"\n\nMorgaine saw Avalloch ride out at midmorning with four huntsmen, and while Maline was in the lower hall, she slipped into their bedchamber, searching through the untidy room and through the discarded baby clothes and still unwashed napkins of the youngest. At last she found a small bronze arm ring she had seen Avalloch wear. There were some gold things too in Maline's chest, but she did not dare to take anything of value which might be missed when Maline's servant came to sort out the room. As it was, the serving-woman found her there and asked, \"What did you want, lady?\"\n\nMorgaine feigned anger. \"I will not live in a house that is kept like a pig's byre! Look at all these unwashed napkins, they stink of baby shit! Take them down now, and give them to the washwoman, and then sweep and air this room-must I put on a clout and do all the sweeping myself?\"\n\n\"No, madam,\" said the servant, cringing, and took the fouled cloths that Morgaine heaped in her arms. Morgaine tucked the bronze ring inside her bodice and went down to have the cook heat water for Uwaine's wound; that must be done first, and somehow she must order things in this house so that she would be idle and alone this afternoon.... She sent for the best surgeon to bring his tools and made Uwaine sit down and open his mouth so that she could help to find the broken root of his tooth. He endured the probing and pulling stoically (though the tooth broke off in his jaw and again had to be dug for; fortunately it was numb and swollen), and finally when all the tooth was out, she dropped some of her strongest numbing medicine into the wound and poulticed the sore swollen cheek again. Finally it was done and Uwaine sent to bed with a strong dram of liquor inside him; he protested, arguing that he had ridden and even fought when he was in worse case than this, but she firmly ordered him to go to his bed and let her medicines take their full effect. So Uwaine, too, was safely out of the way and beyond suspicion. And since she had sent the servants to do washing, there were none of these, either, so that Maline began to complain. \"If we are to have new gowns for Pentecost, and if Avalloch is to have his cloak finished-you do not like to spin, Mother, but I must weave at Avalloch's cloak, and all the women are heating kettles of water for the washing and getting out their beating paddles-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh, dear, I had forgotten that,\" said Morgaine. \"Well, there is no help for it, I must spin then-unless you would have me do the weaving.\" Better, she thought, even than the arm ring, a cloak made to his measure by his wife.\n\n\"Would you do that then, Mother? But you have the king's new cloak setup on the other loom-\"\n\n\"Uriens does not need it so much as Avalloch,\" Morgaine said. \"I will weave at Avalloch's cloak.\" And when I am done, she thought, a shudder running through her heart, he will never need a cloak anymore....\n\n\"Then I will spin,\" said Maline, \"and I will be grateful to you, Mother-you weave better than I.\" She came and pressed her cheek to her mother-in-law's. \"You are always kind tome, lady Morgaine.\"\n\nBut you do not know what I shall be weaving today, child.\n\nMaline sat down and picked up the distaff. She paused fora moment, pressing her hands to her back.\n\n\"Are you not well, daughter-in-law?\"\n\nMaline said, \"It is nothing-my courses are four days late. I am afraid I have gotten with child again, and I had hoped I could nurse the baby another year-\" She sighed. \"Avalloch has women enough in the village, but I think he never loses hope I will give him another son to take Conn's place! He doesn't care anything for the girls-he did not even weep when Maeva died last year, just before I was brought to bed with the baby, and when she was another girl, he was really angry with me. Morgaine, if you truly know any charms, could you give me a charm so that I would bear a son next time I am brought to bed?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine smiled, putting the shuttle to the threads. She said, \"Father Eian will not like it, if you ask me for charms. He would tell you to pray to the Virgin Mother fora son.\"\n\n\"Well, her son was a miracle, and I am beginning to think that if I ever have another son it would be another miracle,\" said Maline. \"But perhaps it is only this dismal chilly weather.\"\n\n\"I will make you some tea for that,\" said Morgaine. \"If you are truly with child, I swear it will not disturb you, but if it is only delay from a chill, it will bring on your courses.\"\n\n\"Is this one of your magical spells from Avalon, Mother?\"\n\nMorgaine shook her head. \"It is herb lore, no more,\" she said, went to the kitchen and made up the brew over the fire. She brought it to Maline and said, \"Drink it as hot as you can, and wrap up in your shawl while you spin, try to keep warm.\"\n\nMaline drank up the brew, emptying the little pottery cup, and grimaced at the taste. \"Ugh, foul!\"\n\nMorgaine said, smiling, \"I should have put honey in it, as I do with the brews I make for the children when they have fever.\"\n\nMaline sighed, taking up the spindle and distaff again. She said, \"Gwyneth is old enough to spin-I could spin when I was five years old.\"\n\n\"So could I,\" said Morgaine, \"but I beg you, defer the lesson another day, for if I am to weave inhere I do not want noise and confusion.\"\n\n\"Well then, I will tell the nurse to keep all the children out in the gallery,\" said Maline, and Morgaine dismissed her from her mind, beginning to run the shuttle slowly through the cloth and making sure of the pattern. It was a pattern of green and brown checkered cloth, not very demanding fora good weaver; so long as she counted the threads automatically, she need not keep her mind on it very long... spinning would have been better. But she had made her distaste for spinning so well known that if she volunteered to spin this day it would be remembered." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The shuttle slid through the cloth: green, brown, green, brown, picking up the other shuttle every tenth row, changing the color. She had taught Maline to dye this green color, which she had learned in Avalon... green of the new leaves coming into the spring, brown of the earth and of the fallen leaves where the boar rooted in the forest for acorns... shuttle sliding through the cloth, the comb to tighten each row of threads, her hands moving automatically, in and out and across, slide down the bar, pickup the shuttle from the other side... would that Avalloch's horse would slip and fall and he would break his neck and save me from what I must do.... She felt cold and shivered, and willed herself to ignore it, concentrating on the shuttle sliding in and out of the threads, in and out, letting images rise and goat will, seeing Accolon in Uriens\" chamber playing with his father at draughts, Uwaine asleep, tossing and turning with the pain in his cheek wound even through his slumber, but now it would heal cleanly... would that a wild boar would fightback and Avalloch's huntsman be too slow to come to his aid....\n\nI said to Niniane that I would not kill. Never name that well from which you will not drink... an image rose in her mind of the Holy Well of Avalon, the water rising from the spring, flooding into the fountain. The shuttle flickered in and out, green and brown, green and brown, like the sunlight falling through the green leaves onto the brown earth, where the spring tides rising within the forest ran with life, sap running in the brown wood... the shuttle flashing now, faster and faster, the world beginning to blur before her eyes... Goddess! Where you run in the forest with the running life of the deer... all men are in your hands, and all the beasts...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Years ago she had been the Virgin Huntress, blessing the Horned One and sending him forth to run with the deer and to conqueror die as the Goddess might decree. He had comeback to her... now she was no longer that Virgin, holding all the power of the Huntress. As the Mother, with all the power of fertility, she had woven spells to bring Lancelet to Elaine's bed. But motherhood for her had ended in the blood of Gwydion's birth. Now she sat herewith her shuttle in her hand and wove death, like the shadow of the Old Death-crone. All men are in your hands to live or die, Mother....\n\nThe shuttle flickered, flashed in and out of her sight, green, brown, green like leaves and forest intertwined, where they ran, the beasts... the wild boar snuffling and grunting and rooting with his long tusks, the sow with the piglets bounding behind her, in and out of a copse... the shuttle raced in her hands and she saw nothing, only the snorting snuffle of the swine in the forest.\n\nCeridwen, Goddess, Mother, Death-crone, Great Raven... Lady of death and life... Great Sow, eater of your young... I call you, I summon you... if this is truly what you have decreed, it is for you to accomplish it... time slid and shifted around her, she lay in the glade with the sunburning her back while she ran with the King Stag, she moved through the forest, softly, snuffling... she sensed the life, the hunters trampling and shouting.... Mother! Great Sow...\n\nMorgaine knew in a random corner of her mind that her hands continued to move, steadily, green and brown, brown and green, but beneath her lowered eyelids she saw nothing of the room or the threads, but only the new green springing beneath the trees, the mud and dead leaves brown from the winter, trampling, it was as if she rooted on all fours in the fragrant mud... life of the Mother there beneath the trees... behind her the little gruntings and squealings of the piglets, tusks tearing up the ground for hidden roots and acorns... brown and green, green and brown..." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Like a shock to her nerves, as if it ripped through her body, she felt the sound of the trampling in the forest, the distant cries..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "her body sat motionless before the loom, weaving brown threads and changing for green, shuttle after shuttle, only her fingers alive, but with the starting thrill of terror and rush of rage, she charged, letting the life of the swine rush through her...\n\nGoddess! Let not the innocent suffer... the huntsmen are nothing to you.... She could do nothing, she watched in dread, trembling, shuddering with the smell of blood, the smell of her mate's blood... blood spilled from the great boar, but this was nothing to her, like the King Stag he must die... when his time was come, then must his blood be shed on the earth... behind her she heard the squeals of frenzied piglings and suddenly the life of the Great Goddess rushed through her, not knowing whether she was Morgaine or the Great Sow, heard her own high frenzied grunting-as when, in Avalon, she had raised her hands and brought down on her the mists of the Goddess, so she flung her head back, shivering, grunting, hearing the terror of her piglings, making short little rushes, flinging up her head, rushing in circles... green and brown under her eyes, an irrelevant shuttle in automatic fingers, unnoticed... then, maddened by the alien smells, blood, iron, strangeness, the enemy rising on two legs, steel and blood and death, she felt herself charge, heard cries, felt the hot stab of metal and red blurring her eyes through the brown and green of the forest, felt her tusks tearing, felt hot blood burst forth and gush as the life went out of her in searing pain and she fell and knew no more... and the shuttle went on, leaden, weaving brown and green and brown over the agony in her belly and the red bursting through her eyes and her pounding heart, the screams still in her ears in the silent room where there was no sound but the whisper of shuttle and warp and spindle and distaff... she swung silent, in her trance, exhausted... slumped forward at the loom and lay there, motionless. After a time she heard Maline speak, but she neither moved nor answered." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Ah! Gwyneth, Morag-Mother, are you ill? Ah, heavens, she will weave, and always it brings these fits upon her-Uwaine! Accolon! Come, Mother has fallen at her loom-\"\n\nShe felt the woman restlessly chafing her hands, calling her name, heard Accolon's voice, felt him lift and carry her. She did not, could not, move or speak-she let them lay heron her bed, bring wine to revive her, felt it trickle down her neck, and wanted to say, I am all right, let be, but she heard herself make a frightened little grunting sound and was still, agony ripping her, knowing that in death the Great Sow would release her, but first she must suffer the death throes... and even as she lay there, blind, tranced, agonized, she heard the hunting horn sound and knew that they were bringing Avalloch home, dead on his horse, slain by the sow which had attacked him within moments after he had killed the boar... and he in turn had slain the sow... death and blood and rebirth and the flow of life in and out of the forest, like the winding in and out of the shuttle....\n\nIT WAS hours later. She still could not move a muscle without griping, terrifying pain; almost she welcomed it. I should not go wholly free of this death, but Accolon's hands are clean.... She looked up into his eyes. He was bending over her with concern and dread, and they were alone fora moment.\n\n\"Are you able to speak now, my love?\" he whispered. \"What happened?\"\n\nShe shook her head and could not speak. But his hands on her were tender, welcome. Do you know what I have done for you, dear love?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "He bent and kissed her." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He would never know how close they had come to being exposed and defeated.\n\n\"I must go back to Father,\" he said gently, troubled. \"He weeps and says, if I had gone, my brother would not have died-he will blame me always.\" His dark eyes rested on her, a shadow of disquiet in them. \"It was you who commanded me not to go,\" he said. \"Did you know this with your magic, beloved?\"\n\nShe found a shred of voice through the soreness in her throat. \"It was the will of the Goddess,\" she said, \"that Avalloch should not destroy what we have done here.\" She managed, with great pain, to move her finger, tracing out the line of the tattooed serpent on the hand that touched her face.\n\nHis expression changed, grew suddenly fearful. \"Morgaine! Had you any part in this?\"\n\nAh, I should have known how he would look at me if he knew...\n\n\"Can you ask?\" she whispered. \"I was weaving in the hall all this day in clear sight of Maline and the servants and the children... it washer will and her doing, not mine.\"\n\n\"But you knew, you knew?\"\n\nSlowly, her eyes filling with tears, she nodded, and he bent and kissed her lips.\n\n\"Be it so. It was the will of the Goddess,\" he said, and he went away.\n\nThere was a place in the woods where a rushing stream broadened out between rocks into a deep pool; Morgaine sat thereon a flat rock overlooking the water and made Accolon sit beside her. They would be unseen here, except by the little ancient folk, and they would never betray their queen.\n\n\"My dear, all these years we have worked together-tell me, Accolon, what is it you think we are doing?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Lady, I have been content to know you had a purpose,\" he said, \"and not to ask questions of you." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If you had sought only fora lover\"-he raised his eyes to her and reached for her hand-\"there would have been others than I for that, better suited to such games.... I love you well, Morgaine, and I have been-glad and honored-that you turned tome, even for companionship and the touch of tenderness, but it was not that which called me to you, priest to priestess.\" He hesitated, and sat stirring the sand at his feet with a booted foot. Finally he said, \"It has come tome, too, that there was more of purpose in this than the wish of a priestess to restore the rites in this country, or your need to draw down upon us the moon tides-glad I have been to aid you in this and share the worship with you, lady. Lady of this land you have been indeed, especially to the ancient folk who see in you the face of the Goddess. Fora time I thought it was only that we had been called to restore the old worship here. But now it comes tome, I know not why\"-he touched the serpents which twined about his wrists-\"that by these, I am bound to this land, to suffer and perhaps to die if need be.\"\n\nI have used him, Morgaine thought, as ruthlessly as ever Viviane did me....\n\nHe said, \"I know it well-not once in a hundred years, now, is that old sacrifice exacted. Yet when these\"-again he touched, with a brown fingertip, the serpents encircling his wrist-\"were set here, it came tome that perhaps I should indeed be the one called by the Lady for that ancient sacrifice. In the years between, I had come to think of this as no more than a green boy's fancy. But if I am to die...\" and his voice faded, like the ripples in the dying pool. It was very still; they could hear some insect making a small dry noise in the grass. Morgaine spoke no word, though she could feel his fear. He must pass the barriers of fear unaided, even as had she... or Arthur, or the Merlin, or any other facing that last testing. And if he was to face the final test he must go to it consenting." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At last he asked, \"Is it exacted of me, then, lady, that I must die? I had thought-if blood sacrifice is demanded-then, when Avalloch fell prey to her...\" and she saw the muscles in his face move; he tightened his jaw and swallowed hard. Still she said nothing, though her heart ached in pity. For some reason she heard Viviane's voice in her mind, a time will come when you will hate meas much as you love me now... and felt again the surge of love and pain. Still she hardened her heart; Accolon was older than Arthur had been when he faced his kingmaking. And while Avalloch had indeed been blood sacrifice, spilled to the Goddess, still another's blood could not redeem any other, nor could Avalloch's death free his brother of the obligation to face his own.\n\nAt last his breath went out in a harsh sigh. \"So be it-I have faced death in battle often enough. I swore unto her, even to death, and I shall not be forsworn. Tell me her will, lady.\"\n\nThen at last she stretched out her hand and clasped his. \"I do not think it is death that will be demanded of you, and certainly not the altar of sacrifice. Still, testing is needed; and death lies always near to the doors of such testing. Would it reassure you to know that I too have faced death this way? Yet I am here at your side. Tell me: are you sworn, man to man, to Arthur?\"\n\n\"I am not one of his Companions,\" Accolon said. \"Uwaine you have seen sworn to him, but not I, though I have fought willingly enough among his men.\"\n\nMorgaine was glad, though she knew that she would even have used the oath of a Companion against Arthur now. \"Listen tome, my dear,\" she said. \"Arthur has twice betrayed Avalon; and only from Avalon can a king reign overall this land. I have sought, again and again, to call to Arthur's mind that oath he gave. But he will not hear me, and he holds still, in his pride, the holy sword Excalibur, the sword of the Sacred Regalia, and with it the magical scabbard I fashioned for him.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Help the author by continuing the tale.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 12" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At last he asked, \"Is it exacted of me, then, lady, that I must die? I had thought-if blood sacrifice is demanded-then, when Avalloch fell prey to her...\" and she saw the muscles in his face move; he tightened his jaw and swallowed hard. Still she said nothing, though her heart ached in pity. For some reason she heard Viviane's voice in her mind, a time will come when you will hate meas much as you love me now... and felt again the surge of love and pain. Still she hardened her heart; Accolon was older than Arthur had been when he faced his kingmaking. And while Avalloch had indeed been blood sacrifice, spilled to the Goddess, still another's blood could not redeem any other, nor could Avalloch's death free his brother of the obligation to face his own.\n\nAt last his breath went out in a harsh sigh. \"So be it-I have faced death in battle often enough. I swore unto her, even to death, and I shall not be forsworn. Tell me her will, lady.\"\n\nThen at last she stretched out her hand and clasped his. \"I do not think it is death that will be demanded of you, and certainly not the altar of sacrifice. Still, testing is needed; and death lies always near to the doors of such testing. Would it reassure you to know that I too have faced death this way? Yet I am here at your side. Tell me: are you sworn, man to man, to Arthur?\"\n\n\"I am not one of his Companions,\" Accolon said. \"Uwaine you have seen sworn to him, but not I, though I have fought willingly enough among his men.\"\n\nMorgaine was glad, though she knew that she would even have used the oath of a Companion against Arthur now. \"Listen tome, my dear,\" she said. \"Arthur has twice betrayed Avalon; and only from Avalon can a king reign overall this land. I have sought, again and again, to call to Arthur's mind that oath he gave. But he will not hear me, and he holds still, in his pride, the holy sword Excalibur, the sword of the Sacred Regalia, and with it the magical scabbard I fashioned for him.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She saw his face turn pale. \"You mean it truly-that you will bring Arthur down?\"\n\n\"Not so, not unless he refuses still to bring his oath to completion,\" Morgaine said. \"I shall give him, still, every opportunity to become what he has sworn to be. And Arthur's son is not yet ripe to the challenge. You are no boy, Accolon, and you are trained to kingcraft, not Druid-craft, in spite of these-\" and she laid a slender fingertip on the serpents encircling his wrist. \"Say then, Accolon of Wales, if all other shifts fail, will you be champion of Avalon, and challenge the betrayer for that sword he holds by betrayal?\"\n\nAccolon drew along breath. \"To challenge Arthur? Fitly did you ask, Morgaine, if I am ready to die,\" he said. \"And you speak tome in riddles. I knew not that Arthur had a son.\"\n\n\"His son is son to Avalon and to the spring fires,\" said Morgaine. She thought she had long outgrown shame for this-I am priestess, I need make no accounting to any man for what I must do-but she could not force herself to meet Accolon's eyes. \"Listen, and I will tell you all.\"\n\nHe sat silent as she told him of the kingmaking on Dragon Island, and what had befallen after; but when she told how she had fled from Avalon and of Gwydion's birth, he putout his hand and encircled her small fingers in his own.\n\n\"He has passed his own testing,\" said Morgaine, \"but he is young and untried: none thought that Arthur would betray his oath. Arthur was young too, but he came to his kingmaking when Uther was old and dying and men were seeking everywhere fora king of the Avalon line. Now Arthur's star is high and his renown great, and even with all the powers of Avalon at his back, Gwydion could never challenge Arthur for his throne.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"How is it that you think I can challenge Arthur and get the sword Excalibur from him and not be slain at once by his men?\" said Accolon. \"And there is nowhere in this world that I can challenge him where he goes not so guarded.\"\n\n\"That is true,\" Morgaine said, \"but you need not challenge him in this world. There are other realms which are not within this world at all, and within one of these realms you may get from him the sword Excalibur, to which he has forfeited all shadow of right, and the magical scabbard which protects him from all harm. Once disarmed, he is no more than any other man. I have seen his Companions-Lancelet, Gawaine, Gareth-disarm him in play at their mock battles. Without his sword, Arthur is easy prey. He is not the greatest of warriors, nor, with that sword and scabbard, did he ever need to be. And Arthur once dead-\"\n\nShe had to stop and steady her voice, knowing she incurred the curse of kin slayer, that same curse she had hesitated to bring on Accolon when Avalloch died.\n\n\"Arthur once dead,\" she repeated firmly at last, \"I am nearest his throne, and his sister. I shall rule as Lady of Avalon, and you as my consort and duke of war. True, in your time you too will be challenged and brought down as King Stag... but before that day comes you shall have your day as King at my side.\"\n\nAccolon sighed. \"I never thought to be King. But if you bid me, lady, I must do her will-and yours. Yet to challenge Arthur for his sword-\"\n\n\"I did not mean that you shall do so without all the help I can give. For what else have I been schooled all these weary years in magic, and for what have I made you my priest? And there is one greater than I who shall help us both to your testing.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Speak you of those magical realms?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Accolon asked her, almost in a whisper. \"I do not understand you.\"\n\nThat surprises me not; I know not myself what I mean to do, nor what I say, Morgaine thought, but she recognized the strange dimness rising in her mind, clouding thought, as that state in which powerful magic was made. I must trust to the Goddess now, and let her lead me. Not I alone, but he who stands at my side, who will take up the sword from Arthur's hand.\n\n\"Trust me, and obey.\" She rose, moving through the woods on silent feet, looking for... what was she looking for? She asked, and heard her voice distant and strange, \"Does hazelwood grow within this forest, Accolon?\"\n\nHe nodded, and she followed him to the grove of trees, at this season just bursting into leaf and flower. The wild pigs who roamed here had eaten the last of the nuts; fragments of nut hulls lay scattered on the thick leaf mold of the forest floors. Yet new shoots were springing, too, toward the light, where new trees would rise, so that the life of the forest would never die.\n\nFlower and fruits and seed. And all things return and grow and come to light and at the last give up their bodies into the keeping of the Lady again. But she who works, silently and alone, at the heart of nature, cannot work her magic without the strength of Him who runs with the deer and with the summer sun draws forth the richness of her womb. Beneath the hazel tree she looked across at Accolon, and while part of her mind was aware that this man washer lover, her chosen priest, she knew that now he had consented to a testing beyond what she alone could confer.\n\nBefore ever the Romans had come to these hills seeking for tin and lead, the hazel grove had been a sacred place. At the edge of the grove there was a pool, standing beneath three of the sacred trees, hazel and willow and alder-a magic older than the magic of the oak. The surface of the pool was somewhat obscured with dry sticks and leaves, but the water was clear and dark, brown with the clear brown of the forest, and she saw her own face reflected as she bent and dipped up the water in her hand, touching it to brow and lips. Before her eyes the reflected face shifted and changed, and she saw the strange deep eyes of the woman from that older world than this. And something in her crawled in terror at what she saw in those eyes." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The world had shifted subtly round them-she had believed this strange ancient land lay at the borders of Avalon, not herein the remote fastnesses of North Wales. Yet a voice said silently in her mind, I am everywhere, and where the hazel reflects in the sacred pool, there am I. She heard Accolon draw in a breath of wonder and awe, and turned to see that the lady of the fairy kingdom was with them, standing straight and silent in her shimmering garment, the crown of bare wicker-wither above her brow.\n\nWas it she who spoke, or the lady?\n\nThere is other testing than the running of the deer... and suddenly it was as if a horn rang out, far and eerie, through the hazel grove... or was it the hazel grove? And then the leaves lifted and stirred, and there was the rushing of sudden winds, making the branches creak and sway, and a chill of fear rippled through Morgaine's body and blood.\n\nHe is coming...\n\nSlowly, reluctant, she turned and saw that they were not alone in the grove. Thereat the edge between the worlds, he was standing...\n\nNever did she ask Accolon what it was that he saw... she saw only the shadow of the antler crown, the bright leaves of gold and crimson where they stood in a wood gilded with the first buds of spring, the dark eyes... once she had lain with him on a forest floor like this, but he had not come for her this time, and she knew it. Now she, and even the lady, must step aside. His step, light on the leaves, still somehow raised the wind that kept thrusting floods of air through the grove, so that her hair blew about on her forehead and she felt her cloak flapping with it. He was tall and dark, and he seemed at once to be clothed in the richest garments, and in leaves, and at the same time she would have taken oath that his flesh gleamed smooth and naked before them. He gestured, raising one slender hand, and as if compelled, Accolon moved slowly forward, step by step... and at the same time it was Accolon that she could see crowned and robed with leaves and antlers, glimmering in the strange motionless light of fairy. Morgaine felt herself buffeted, struck and battered by the wind; in the grove, she knew, were forms and faces she could not clearly see; this testing was not for her, but for the man at her side. It seemed that there were cries and horn-calls; were the riders within the air, or did the beating of their hooves drum on the forest floor with this great noise that drowned out thought? She knew Accolon was no longer at her side. She stood clasping the bark of the hazel tree, her face hidden; she did not know, she would never know, it was not for her to know what form Accolon's kingmaking should take... that was not in her power to give or to know. She had invoked the powers of the Horned One through the Lady, and he had gone where she could not follow." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She never knew how long she stood there, clutching at the hazel bark, her brow pressed painfully against the bole of the tree... and then the wind died and Accolon was with her. They stood together, alone in the hazel grove, hearing only the beat of thunder from a dark and cloudless sky where the sun's rim glared like hot metal behind the moon's dark eclipse disk, and the stars burned against the unfallen night. Accolon's arm was around her. He whispered, \"What is it, what is it?\"\n\n\"It is the eclipse.\" Her voice was steadier than she could have believed. She felt her heartbeat quieting to normal at the touch of his arms, warm and alive, holding her. The ground was quite steady under her feet again, the solid earth of the hazel grove, and when she looked down into the pool she saw fragments of broken boughs from the uncanny wind that had ravaged the grove. Somewhere a bird complained at the sudden dark, and at their feet a small pink piglet rooted in the dead leaf mold. Then the light began to steal so brightly that she saw the shadow passing away from the sun. She saw Accolon staring at the brightness and said sharply, \"Turn away your eyes-you can be blinded now the darkness is gone!\"\n\nHe swallowed and lowered his face to hers. His hair was awry with a wind that was not of this world, and clinging to his hair was a crimson leaf which made Morgaine shiver as they stood beneath the just unfolding buds of the hazel.\n\nHe said in a whisper, \"He is gone... and she... or was it you? Morgaine, did it happen, was any of it real?\"\n\nMorgaine, looking into his dazzled face, saw something in his eyes, something that had never been there before-the touch of the nonhuman. She reached out and plucked the crimson leaf from his hair, holding it out to him. \"You who bear the serpents... need you question?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Ah-\" She saw the shudder run right through him. He struck the crimson leaf from her hand with a savage gesture, letting it fall silent to the forest floor, and said, with a gasp, \"It seemed that I rode high above the world and saw such things as come never to mortal man...\" and then he reached for her, with blind urgency tearing at her dress and pulling her down to the ground. She let him do as he would and lay stunned on the damp ground as he thrust blindly into her, driven by a force he hardly understood. It seemed to her, as she lay silent beneath that driving strength, that his face was shadowed again with antlers or with crimson leaves; she had no part in this, she was only the passive earth beneath rain and wind, thunder and lightning bolt, and it was as if the lightning struck through her into the earth beneath...\n\nThen the darkness receded and the strange stars shining forth by day were all gone, and Accolon's hands, tender and apologetic, were helping her to rise, to arrange her disordered dress; he bent to kiss her, to stammer some half-explanation, some word of excuse, but she smiled and laid her hand across his lips. \"No, no-it is enough-\" The grove was silent again, and around them were only the normal sounds of the quiet day.\n\nShe said calmly, \"We must go back, my love. We will be missed, and everyone will be shouting and crying out about the eclipse, as if it were some strange marvel of nature...\" and smiled faintly; she had seen something far stranger than an eclipse this day. Accolon's hand was cold and solid in hers.\n\nHe whispered, as they walked, \"I knew never that you... you look like her, Morgaine....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But I am she. However, Morgaine did not speak the words aloud. He was an initiate; he should have been better prepared, perhaps, for this testing. Yet he had faced it as he must, and he had been accepted by something beyond her own small powers.\n\nThen cold struck at her heart and she turned to look at his smiling, beloved face. He had been accepted. But that did not mean he would triumph; it meant only that he might attempt the final testing for which this was only the beginning.\n\nI felt not like this when as Spring Maiden I sent Arthur-whom I knew not to be Arthur-forth for his testing. Ah, Goddess, how young I was then, how young we both were... mercifully young, for we knew not what we did. And now I am old enough to know what it is that I do, how shall I have courage to send him forth to face death?\n\nOn the eve of Pentecost, Arthur and his queen had bidden those guests with family ties to the throne to dine with them privately. Tomorrow would be the usual great banquet for all of Arthur's subject kings and his Companions, but Gwenhwyfar, dressing herself carefully, felt that this would be the greater ordeal. She had long accepted the inevitable. Her husband and lord would by his act tomorrow make public and irrevocable what had long been known. Tomorrow, Galahad would be made knight and Companion of the Round Table. Oh, she had known it for years, yes, but then Galahad had been only a fair-haired little boy growing up somewhere in King Pellinore's lands. When she had thought of it, she had even been pleased; Lancelet's son, by her own cousin Elaine-now dead in childbed-was a reasonable heir for the King. But now she felt him a living reproach to an aging queen whose life had been without fruit." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You are distressed,\" said Arthur, watching her face as she set the coronet about her hair. \"I am sorry, Gwenhwyfar-I thought it would be the way to get to know the lad, as I must if he is to have my throne. Shall I tell them that you are ill? You need not appear-you can meet him at some other time.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar tightened her mouth. \"As well now as later.\"\n\nHe took her hand. \"I do not see Lancelet very often anymore-it will be good to speak with him again.\"\n\nHer mouth moved in something she knew was not the smile she had intended. \"I wonder you will have it so-do you not hate him?\"\n\nArthur smiled uneasily. \"We were all so much younger then. It seems as if it all was in another world, and Lance no more than my dearest and oldest friend, almost my brother, as much as Cai.\"\n\n\"Cai is your brother too,\" said Gwenhwyfar, \"and his son Arthur is one of your most loyal knights. It seems tome that he would make a better heir than Galahad....\"\n\n\"Young Arthur is a good man and a trusty Companion. But Cai's blood is not royal. God knows, in all these years I have wished often enough that Ectorius had in truth been my own father... but he was not, and there's an end of it, Gwen.\" After a moment, hesitant-he had never spoken of this, not since that other dreadful Pentecost-he said, \"I have heard that-the other lad, Morgaine's son-is in Avalon.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar putout a hand as if to avoid a blow. \"No-!\"\n\n\"I will arrange it so that you need never meet him,\" he said, not looking at her, \"but royal blood is royal blood and something must be done for him. He cannot have my throne, the priests would not have it-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh,\" said Gwenhwyfar, \"and if the priests would have it, I suppose you would proclaim Morgaine's son your heir-\"\n\n\"There will be those who wonder that he is not,\" said Arthur. \"Would you have me try to explain it to them?\"\n\n\"Then you should keep him far from the court,\" said Gwenhwyfar, thinking, I did not know my voice was so harsh when I was angry. \"What place at this court has one who has been reared in Avalon as a Druid?\"\n\nHe said dryly, \"The Merlin of Britain is one of my councillors and has always been so, Gwen. Those who look to Avalon are always my subjects too. It is written: Other sheep have I which are not of this fold....\"\n\n\"A blasphemous jest,\" Gwenhwyfar observed, making her voice gentler, \"and hardly suitable for the eve of Pentecost-\"\n\nArthur said, \"Before Pentecost there was always Midsummer, my love. At least, now there are no Midsummer fires lighted, not even on Dragon Island, or, so far as I know, anywhere within three days' ride of Camelot-except on Avalon itself.\"\n\n\"The priests have set wards on Glastonbury Island, I am sure,\" said Gwenhwyfar, \"so that there shall be no coming and going from that land....\"\n\n\"It would be a sad day if it should be lost forever,\" Arthur said. \"As it is sad for the peasant folk to lose their own festivals... town folk, perhaps, have no need of the old rites. Oh yes, I know, there is only one name under Heaven by which we maybe saved, but perhaps those who live in such close kinship with the earth need something more than salvation....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwenhwyfar started to speak, then held her peace. Kevin was no more than a misshapen old cripple, and a Druid, and the day of the Druids now seemed to her as faraway as the time of the Romans. And even Kevin was less known at court as the Merlin of Britain than as a superb harper. The priests did not hold him in reverence as a good and kindly man, as once with Taliesin; Kevin's tongue was quick and ungentle in debate. Yet Kevin's knowledge of all the old ways and the common law was greater even than Arthur's, and Arthur had come into the way of turning to him when it was a question of old law and custom which could not beset aside.\n\n\"If this were not so strictly a family party, I would command that the Merlin perform for us tonight.\"\n\nArthur smiled and said, \"I can send to ask of him, if you will, but such music as his is not to be commanded, even by a king. I can bid him dine at our table, and beg him to honor us with a song.\"\n\nShe smiled back and said, \"So the King begs of a subject, rather than the other way around?\"\n\n\"There must be a balance in all things,\" he said. \"It is one of the things I have learned in my rule-in some matters, a king cannot command but must sue. Perhaps that was why the Caesars fell, because they fell into what my tutor used to call hubris, thinking they could command outside the legitimate sphere of a king.... Well, my lady, our guests are waiting. Are you sufficiently beautiful?\"\n\nShe said, \"You are making fun of me again. You know how old I am.\"\n\n\"You are scarcely older than I,\" said Arthur, \"and my chamberlain tells me I am a handsome man still.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh, but that is different. Men do not age as women do.\" She looked at his face, which was only faintly lined with the years-a man in the prime of his life.\n\nHe said, taking her hand, \"It would little beseem me to have a maiden at my side for my queen. You are suited tome.\" They moved toward the door; the chamberlain approached and spoke in a low voice, and Arthur turned to Gwenhwyfar. \"There will be other guests at our table. Gawaine sent word that his mother has come, and so we cannot but invite Lamorak as well, since he is her consort and travelling companion,\" said Arthur. \"I have not seen Morgause in many years, God knows, but she is my kinswoman too. And King Uriens and Morgaine with their sons...\"\n\n\"Then it will be a family party indeed.\"\n\n\"Yes, with Gareth and Gawaine-Gaheris is in Cornwall and Agravaine could not leave Lothian,\" said Arthur, and Gwenhwyfar felt pricked with an old grievance... Lot of Lothian had so many sons. \"Well, my dear, our guests are assembled in the little hall. Shall we go down to them?\"\n\nThe great hall of the Round Table was Arthur's domain-a man's place, where warriors and kings met. But the little hall with the hangings she had ordered from Gaul and the trestle tables and benches-that was where Gwenhwyfar felt most a queen. She was growing daily more shortsighted; at first, though there was still plenty of light, she saw only stripes of color from the ladies' gowns and the brilliant indoor robes worn by the men. That huge figure there, well over six feet with a great shock of sandy hair, that was Gawaine-he came to bow before the King and then, rising, to embrace his cousin in a great bear hug. Gareth followed him, more modestly, and Cai came to clap Gareth on the shoulder, to call him Handsome in the old way, and to ask after his brood of children, still too young to come to court-the lady Lionors was, he said, still abed after their latest, and had stayed in their castle northward by the Roman wall. Was that eight now, or nine? Gwenhwyfar had seen the lady Lionors only twice, because always, according to Gareth, she was breeding or lying-in or still suckling her latest. Gareth was no longer pretty-faced, but good-looking as ever, and as Arthur and Gawaine and Gareth grew older, the resemblance between them all grew ever stronger. Now Gareth was being embraced by a slender man with dark curling hair streaked with grey, and Gwenhwyfar bit her lip; Lancelet changed not at all with the years, save to grow yet more handsome." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Uriens had none of that magical immunity to time. He looked at last really old, though he was still upright and strong. His hair was all white, and she heard him explaining to Arthur that he had but recently recovered from the lung fever, and had that spring buried his oldest son, savaged by a wild pig.\n\nArthur said, \"So you will be King of North Wales one day, sir Accolon? Well, so it shall be-Ood giveth and taketh, so it says in Holy Writ.\"\n\nUriens would have bent to kiss Gwenhwyfar's hand, but she leaned instead to kiss the old man on the cheek. He was foppishly dressed in green, with a handsome cloak of green and brown.\n\n\"Our queen grows ever younger,\" he said, smiling with good humor. \"One would think you had dwelled in the fairy country, kinswoman.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar laughed. \"Perhaps I should paint lines in my face then, lest the bishops and priests think I have learned spells unseemly fora Christian woman-but such jesting is uncanny on the eve of a holy day. Well, Morgaine\"-for once she could greet her sister-in-law with a jest-\"you seem younger than I, and I know you are older. What is your magic?\"\n\n\"No magic,\" said Morgaine in her rich low voice. \"It is only that there is so little to occupy my mind, in that country at the end of the world, that it seems tome that time does not pass there, and so, perhaps, that is why I grow no older.\"\n\nNow she looked closer, Gwenhwyfar could indeed seethe small traces of time in Morgaine's face; her skin was still smooth and unmarred, but there were tiny creases around her eyes and the eyelids drooped a little. The hand she gave Gwenhwyfar was thin and bony, so that herrings hung loose. Gwenhwyfar thought, Morgaine is at least five years older than I. And suddenly it seemed to her that they were not women in middle life, but those two young girls who had met in Avalon." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lancelet had come first to greet Morgaine. Gwenhwyfar would not have believed that she could still be torn with this raging passion of jealousy... now Elaine is gone... and Morgaine's husband is so old he surely cannot look to see another Christmas. She heard Lancelet speak some laughing compliment, heard Morgaine's low sweet laughter.\n\nBut she does not look at Lancelet like a lover... her eyes turn to Prince Accolon-he is a goodly man too... well, her husband is more than twice her age... and Gwenhwyfar felt a stab of self-righteous disapproval.\n\n\"We should go to table,\" she said, beckoning to Cai. \"Galahad must goat midnight to watch by his arms; and perhaps, like many young men, he would like to rest a little beforehand so he will not be sleepy-\"\n\n\"I shall not be sleepy, lady,\" the young man said, and Gwenhwyfar felt again the pain. She would so gladly have had this fair young man as her son. He was tall now, broad-shouldered and big as Lancelet had never been. His face seemed to shine with scrubbing and with a calm happiness. \"This is all so new tome-Camelot is such a beautiful city, I can hardly believe it is real! And I rode herewith my father-all my life my mother spoke of him as if he were a king or a saint, quite beyond mortal men.\"\n\nMorgaine said, \"Oh, Lancelet is mortal enough, Galahad, and if you come to know him well enough, you will know it too.\"\n\nGalahad bowed politely to Morgaine. He said, \"I remember you. You came and took Nimue from us, and my mother wept-is my sister well, lady?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I have not seen her for some years,\" Morgaine said, \"but if it was not well with her, I would have heard.\"\n\n\"I remember only that I was angry with you for telling me I was wrong about everything-you seemed very certain, and my mother-\"\n\n\"No doubt your mother told you I am an evil sorceress.\" She smiled-smug as a cat, Gwenhwyfar thought-at the transparent blush that covered Galahad's face. \"Well, Galahad, you are not the first to think me so.\" She smiled to Accolon too, who returned the smile so openly that Gwenhwyfar was shocked.\n\nGalahad said bluntly, \"And are you a sorceress, then, lady?\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Morgaine, with that cat-claw smile again, \"no doubt your mother had reason to think me so. Since now she is gone, I may tell you all-Lancelet, did Elaine never tell you how she begged and besought me fora charm that would turn your eyes on her?\"\n\nLancelet turned to Morgaine, and it seemed to Gwenhwyfar that his face was stricken, tight with pain. \"Why make jests about days that are long gone, kinswoman?\"\n\n\"Oh, but I jest not,\" said Morgaine, and fora moment she raised her eyes to meet Gwenhwyfar's. \"I thought it time you stopped breaking hearts all through the kingdoms of Britain and Gaul. So I made that marriage, and I do not regret it, for now you have a fine son who is heir to my brother's kingdom. If I had not meddled, you would have remained unwed, and still be breaking all our hearts-would he not, Gwen?\" she added audaciously." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I knew it. But I did not know Morgaine would confess it so openly.... But Gwenhwyfar took a queen's privilege to change the subject. \"How does my namesake, your little Gwenhwyfar?\"\n\n\"She is pledged in marriage to Lionel's son,\" Lancelet said, \"and will be Queen of Less Britain, one day. The priest said the kinship was overdose but a dispensation could be had-I paid a great fee to the church for that to beset aside, and Lionel paid one, too-the girl is but nine and the wedding will not be for another six years.\"\n\n\"And your elder daughter?\" asked Arthur.\n\n\"Sire, she is in a nunnery,\" Lancelet said.\n\n\"Is that what Elaine told you?\" Morgaine asked, and again there was the flash of malice in her eyes. \"She is in your own mother's place in Avalon, Lancelet. Did you not know?\"\n\nHe said peacefully, \"It is all one. The priestesses of the House of Maidens are much like to the nuns of holy church, living lives of chastity and prayer, and serving God in their own way.\" He turned quickly to Queen Morgause, who was approaching them. \"Well, Aunt, I cannot say you are unchanged by time, but the years have treated you kindly indeed.\"\n\nShe looks so like Igraine! I have heard only the jests and have laughed at her, but now I can well believe that young Lamorak is beglamoured by her for love and not ambition! Morgause was a big woman, and tall, her hair was still rich and red, flowing in loose braids, over her green gown-avast expanse of brocaded silk, embroidered with pearls and golden threads. A narrow coronet set with shining topaz twinkled in her hair. Gwenhwyfar held out her arms and embraced her kinswoman, saying, \"You look much like Igraine, Queen Morgause. I loved her well, and still I think often of her.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"When I was younger that statement would have had me frantic with jealousy, Gwenhwyfar-I was maddened that my sister Igraine was more beautiful than I, and had so many kings and lords at her feet. Now I remember only that she was beautiful and kind, and I am glad to know I resemble her still.\" She turned to embrace Morgaine, and Gwenhwyfar saw that Morgaine was lost in the bigger woman's embrace, that Morgause towered over her.... Why did I ever fear Morgaine? She is just a little thing after all, and the queen of an unregarded kingdom.... Morgaine's dress was a simple dark wool, and she wore no ornament but a silver torque about her throat and some kind of silver bracelet about her arms. Her hair, dark and rich as ever, was simply braided and wound around her head.\n\nArdiur had come up to embrace his sister and his aunt. Gwenhwyfar took Galahad's hand in hers. \"You shall sit by me, kinsman.\" Ah, yes, this was the son I should have borne to Lancelet-or to Arthur.... She said, as they sat down, \"And now you have come to know your father, have you discovered, as Morgaine said, that he is no saint but merely a very lovable man?\"\n\n\"Ah, but what else is a saint?\" asked Galahad, his eyes shining. \"I cannot think of him as only a man, lady, he is surely more than that. He is the son of a king too, and I am sure that if they chose the best rather than the eldest son, he would reign in Less Britain. I think that man is happy whose father is also his hero,\" he said. \"I had sometime to speak with Gawaine-he despised his father and thought little of him, but no man has ever spoken of my father save with admiration!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I hope, then, that you see him always as a hero untarnished,\" said Gwenhwyfar." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She had placed Galahad between herself and Arthur, as befitted the adopted heir to the kingdom; Arthur had chosen to seat Queen Morgause next to him, with Gawaine beyond, and next to him, Uwaine, who was Gawaine's friend and protege, as Gareth had been Lancelet's when they were younger.\n\nAt the table next to them were Morgaine and her husband, and other guests; they were all kin, but she could not see their faces clearly. She craned her neck and squinted to see, reproving herself-squinting would make her ugly-and rubbed at the right wrinkle beneath her brows. She wondered suddenly whereby her old fear of open spaces when she was a girl had simply come from being so shortsighted? Had she feared what the world was like only because she could not really see?\n\nShe asked Arthur across Galahad, who was eating with the hearty appetite of a healthy boy still growing, \"Did you bid Kevin dine with us?\"\n\n\"Aye, but he sent a message that he could not come. Since he could not be in Avalon, perhaps he keeps the holy day in his own fashion. Ibid Bishop Patricias as well, but he keeps the vigil of Pentecost in the church-he will see you thereat midnight, Galahad.\"\n\n\"I think that being made a king must be a little like being made a priest,\" said Galahad clearly; there was a lull in the conversation that made his young voice audible from one end of the table to another. \"They are both sworn to serve man and God and to do what is right-\"\n\nGareth said, \"I felt something like that, lad. God grant you see it always so.\"\n\n\"I have always wanted my Companions to be men dedicated to the right.\" said Arthur. \"I do not demand that they be godly men, Galahad, but I have hoped they would be good men.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lancelet said to Arthur, \"Perhaps these youngsters may live in a world where it is easier to be good,\" and it seemed to Gwenhwyfar that he sounded sad.\n\n\"But you are good, Father,\" said Galahad. \"All up and down this land it is told that you are King Arthur's greatest knight.\"\n\nLancelet chuckled, embarrassed. \"Aye-like that Saxon hero who tore the arm from the Lake monster. My works and deeds have been made into song because the true tale is not exciting enough to tell by the fireside in winter.\"\n\n\"But you did slay a dragon, did you not?\" Galahad said.\n\n\"Oh, yes-and it was a fearful beast enough, I suppose. But your grandsire did as much as I in killing it,\" said Lancelet. \"Gwenhwyfar, my lady, we dine never so well as at your table-\"\n\n\"Too well,\" said Arthur cheerfully, patting his middle. \"If feasts like this came often, I would be as fat as one of those beer-guzzling Saxon kings. And tomorrow is Pentecost, and another feast for even more folk-I do not know how my lady does it!\"\n\nGwenhwyfar felt a small glow of pride. \"This feast is mine, that of tomorrow is sir Cai's pride-for that one the beeves are already roasting in their pit. My lord Uriens, you are eating no meat...\"\n\nUriens shook his head. \"Awing of one of those birds, perhaps. Since my son was slain, I have vowed never again to eat the flesh of swine.\"\n\n\"And your queen shares your vow?\" said Arthur. \"As always, Mor-gaine is all but fasting-no wonder you are so small and spare, my sister!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It is no hardship for me not to eat swine's flesh.\"\n\n\"Is your voice sweet as ever, my sister? Since Kevin could not join us, perhaps you would sing or play-\"\n\n\"If you had told me you wished it, I would not have eaten so well. I cannot sing now. Later, perhaps.\"\n\n\"Then you, Lancelet,\" Arthur said.\n\nLancelet shrugged and gestured to a servant to bring the harp. \"Kevin will sing this tomorrow-I am no match for him. I made the words from a Saxon poet. I said once I could live with the Saxons, but not with what they called music. Then, when I dwelt among them last year, I heard this song and wept when I heard it, and tried in my poor way to put it into our tongue.\" He left his seat to take the small harp. \"It is for you, my king,\" he said, \"for it speaks of what sorrow I knew when I dwelt far from court and from my lord-but the music is Saxon. I had thought, before this, that all their songs were of war and battle and fighting.\"\n\nHe began to play a soft, sorrowful melody; his fingers were not as skillful as those of Kevin, but the sad song had a power of its own, which gradually quieted them. He sang, in the husky voice of an untrained singer:\n\n\"What sorrow is like to the sorrow of one who is alone?\n\nOnce I dwelt in the company of the king I loved well,\n\nAnd my arm was heavy with the weight of the rings he gave,\n\nAnd my heart weighed down with the gold of his love.\n\nThe face of the king is like the sun to those who surround him," }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But now my heart is empty\n\nAnd I wander alone throughout the world.\n\nThe groves take on their blossoms,\n\nThe trees and meadows grow fair,\n\nBut the cuckoo, saddest of singers,\n\nCries forth the lonely sorrow of the exile,\n\nAnd now my heart goes wandering,\n\nIn search of what I shall never see more;\n\nAll faces are alike tome if I cannot seethe face of my king,\n\nAnd all countries are alike tome\n\nWhen I cannot seethe fair fields and meadows of my home.\n\nSo I shall arise and follow my heart in its wandering\n\nFor what is the fair meadow of home tome\n\nWhen I cannot seethe face of my king\n\nAnd the weight on my arm is but a band of gold\n\nWhen the heart is empty of the weight of love.\n\nAnd so I shall go roaming\n\nOver the fishes' road\n\nAnd the road of the great whale\n\nAnd beyond the country of the wave\n\nWith none to bear me company\n\nBut the memory of those I loved\n\nAnd the songs I sang out of a full heart,\n\nAnd the cuckoo's cry in memory.\n\nGWENHWYFAR BENT HER HEAD to hide tears. Arthur's head was lowered, his eyes covered by his hand. Morgaine was staring straight ahead and Gwenhwyfar could seethe stripes of tears making wet streaks down her face. Arthur rose and came around the table; he put his arms round Lancelet and said in a voice that was not steady, \"But you are again with your king and your friend, Galahad.\"\n\nThe old bitterness stabbed at Gwenhwyfar's heart. He sang of his king, not of his queen and his love. His love for me was nevermore than apart of his love for Arthur. She closed her eyes, unwilling to see them embrace." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"That was beautiful,\" said Morgause softly." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Who would ever think that a Saxon brute could write music like that-it must have been Lancelet, after all-\"\n\nLancelet shook his head. \"The music is theirs. And the words only a poor echo of their own....\"\n\nA voice that was like an echo of Lancelet's said gently, \"But there are poets and musicians among the Saxons, as well as warriors, my lady,\" and Gwenhwyfar turned toward the voice. A young man in dark clothing, slender, dark-haired, a blur beyond her sight; but the voice, accented softly with the tones of the North country, still sounded like Lancelet's, the very pitch and timbre of his.\n\nArthur beckoned him forward. \"There sits one at my table I do not know-and at a family party, that is not right. Queen Morgause-?\"\n\nShe stood up in her place. \"I had meant to present him to you before we went to table, but you were busy talking with old friends, my king. This is Morgaine's son, who was fostered at my court-Gwydion.\"\n\nThe youth came forward and bowed. \"King Arthur,\" he said, in the warm voice that was like an echo of Lancelet's. Fora momenta dizzied joy struck through Gwenhwyfar; this was Lancelet's son, surely, not Arthur's-and then she recalled that Morgaine's aunt, Viviane, was Lancelet's mother too.\n\nArthur embraced the youth. He said, in a voice too shaken to be audible three yards distant, \"The son of my dearly beloved sister shall be received as a son at my own court, Gwydion. Come and sit beside me, lad.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar looked at Morgaine. She had spots of crimson on her cheek, as bright as if they were painted, and she was worrying her lower lip between her small, sharp teeth. Had Morgause not prepared her, then, to see her son presented to his father-no, to the King, Gwenhwyfar reminded herself sharply; there was no reason to think the boy had any idea who his father was. Though if he had ever looked in a mirror, no doubt he would come to believe, whatever anyone might say, that he was Lancelet's son." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Not a boy, after all. He must be near enough to five-and-twenty; he was a man.\n\n\"Your cousin, Galahad,\" Arthur said, and Galahad impulsively putout his hand.\n\n\"You are closer kin to the King than I, cousin-you have a better right than Ito be where I am now,\" he said, with boyish spontaneity. \"I wonder you don't hate me!\"\n\nGwydion smiled and said, \"How do you know I do not, cousin?\" and fora moment Gwenhwyfar was jolted, until she saw the smile. Yes, he was Morgaine's son, he had the cat-smile she could show sometimes! Galahad blinked, then decided the words were meant as a jest. Gwenhwyfar could follow Galahad's transparent thoughts-Is this my father's son, is Gwydion my bastard brother by Queen Morgaine? He looked hurt, too, like a puppy whose playful proffer of friendship has been rebuffed.\n\n\"No, cousin,\" Gwydion said, \"what you are thinking is not true.\" Gwenhwyfar thought, her breath catching in her throat, that he even had Lancelet's sudden breathtaking smile that transformed a rather dark and somber face into an overwhelming brilliance, as if a ray of sun had come out and transformed it.\n\nGalahad said defensively, \"I was not-I did not-\"\n\n\"No,\" said Gwydion, kindly, \"you did not say anything, but it is all too obvious what you are thinking, and what everyone in this room must bethinking.\" He raised his voice, just a little, that voice so like Lancelet's, although overlaid with the soft North-country accent: \"In Avalon, cousin, we take our lineage from the line of the mother. I am of the old royal line of Avalon, and that is quite enough for me. It would be arrogance for any man to claim to be father to the child of a High Priestess of Avalon. But of course, like most men, I would like to know who fathered me, and what you thought has been said before-that I am the son of Lancelot. That likeness has been remarked upon before this-especially among the Saxons where I spent three years learning to be a warrior,\" he added. \"Your reputation among them, lord Lancelet, is still much remembered there! I could not count how many men said tome that it was no disgrace to be the bastard son of a manlike you, sir!\" His low chuckle was like an eerie echo of the man he faced, and Lancelet looked uneasy too. \"But in the end I always had to tell them that what they thought was not true. Of all the men in this kingdom who could have fathered me, one I know is not my father. And so, I must inform them that it is only a family likeness, no more. I am your cousin, Galahad, not your brother.\" He leaned lazily back in his chair. \"Will it embarrass you too much-that everyone who sees us will think so? After all, we cannot go around telling everyone the truth!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Galahad looked confused. \"I would not have minded if you were truly my brother, Gwydion.\"\n\n\"But then I should have been your father's son and perhaps the King's heir, too,\" Gwydion said, and smiled-and it struck Gwenhwyfar suddenly that he actually took pleasure in the discomfort of the people around the table; that he was Morgaine's son, if only in that touch of malice.\n\nMorgaine said, in that low voice which carried so clearly without being loud, \"It would not have been displeasing tome, either, if Lancelet had fathered you, Gwydion.\"\n\n\"No, I suppose not, lady,\" Gwydion said. \"Forgive me, lady Morgaine. Always I have called Queen Morgause my mother-\"\n\nMorgaine laughed. \"If I seem an unlikely mother to you, Gwydion, you seem just as unlikely a son tome. I am grateful for this family party, Gwenhwyfar,\" she said. \"I might have been confronted with my son tomorrow at the great feast, without warning.\"\n\nUriens said, \"I think any woman would be proud of such a son, and as to your father, whoever he may have been, young Gwydion, it is his own loss that he did not claim you for his own.\"\n\n\"Oh, I don't think so,\" Gwydion said, and Gwenhwyfar thought, watching the small flicker of his eyes toward Arthur, He may say for some reason that he does not know who is his father, but he is lying. Somehow that made her uncomfortable. Yet how much more uncomfortable it would be if he were to face Arthur and demand to know why he, the son, was not also the heir.\n\nAvalon, that accursed place! She wished it would sink into the sea like the lost land of Ys in the old tale, and never be heard of again!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But this is Galahad's special night,\" Gwydion said, \"and I am taking attention away from him. Are you to watch by your arms this night, cousin?\"\n\nGalahad nodded. \"It is the custom for Arthur's Companions.\"\n\n\"I was the first,\" Gareth said, \"and it is a good custom. I suppose it is the nearest a layman can come to being a priest, to take vows that he will always serve his king and his land and his God with his arms.\" He laughed and said, \"What a fool of a boy I was-my lord Arthur, have you ever forgiven me, that I refused your offer to knight me with your own hands, and instead asked that Lancelet might do so?\"\n\n\"Forgiven you, lad? I envied you,\" Arthur said, smiling. \"Do you think I did not know Lancelet was the greater warrior of us two?\"\n\nCai spoke for the first time, his somber scarred face twisting in a smile. \"I told die lad then that he was a good fighter and would make a good knight, but he was certainly no courtier!\"\n\n\"And so much the better,\" said Arthur heartily. \"God knows I had enough of those!\" He added, leaning forward, speaking directly to Galahad, \"Would you prefer that your father should knight you, Galahad? He has knighted enough of my Companions....\"\n\nThe boy bowed his head. \"Sir, it is for my king to say. But it seems tome that this knighthood comes from God and it does not matter who bestows it. I-I do not mean that quite as it sounds, sir-I mean, the vow is made to you, but mostly to God-\"\n\nArthur nodded, slowly. \"I know what you mean, my boy. It is much the same with a king-he vows to rule over his people, but the vow is given not to the people but to God-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Or,\" said Morgaine, \"to the Goddess, in her name, as token of the land the king shall rule.\" She looked directly at Arthur as she spoke and he shifted his eyes, and Gwenhwyfar bit her lip... Morgaine reminding Arthur again dial his allegiance had been given to Avalon-damn her! But that was past and Arthur was a Christian king... under no authority but that of God.\n\n\"We will all be praying for you, Galahad, that you make a good knight, and that one day, you will make a good king,\" said Gwenhwyfar.\n\n\"So, as you make your vows, Galahad,\" said Gwydion, \"you are making, in some form, the same kind of Sacred Marriage to the land that the King used to make in the old days. But you will not, perhaps, be so hard tested.\"\n\nThe color rose in the younger boy's face. \"My lord Arthur came to the throne proved in battle, cousin, but there is noway I can now be so tested.\"\n\n\"I could think of away,\" said Morgaine softly, \"and if you are to rule over Avalon as well as the Christian lands, one day you must come to that, too, Galahad.\"\n\nHe set his mouth firmly. \"May that time be far-surely, my lord, you will live many, many years-and by then all those old folk who still believe they must give allegiance to the pagan ways will have gone.\"\n\n\"I trust not,\" said Accolon, speaking up for the first time in that company. \"The sacred groves still stand, and in them, the old ways are done as they have been done from the beginning of the world. We do not anger the Goddess by denying her worship, lest she turn upon her people and blight the harvests and darken the very sun that gives us life.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Galahad was startled. \"But this is a Christian land! Have no priests come to you to show you that the evil old Gods among whom the Devil had sway have no more power now? Bishop Patricius has told me that all the sacred groves have been cut down!\"\n\n\"Not so,\" said Accolon, \"nor will be while my father lives, or I after him.\"\n\nMorgaine opened her mouth to speak, but Gwenhwyfar saw Accolon lay his hand on her wrist. She smiled at him and said nothing. It was Gwydion who said, \"Nor yet in Avalon, while the Goddess lives. Kings come and kings go, but the Goddess shall endure forever.\"\n\nWhat pity, Gwenhwyfar thought, that this handsome young man should be a pagan! Well, Galahad is a good and pious Christian knight, who will make a Christianfang! But as she reassured herself with that thought, a faint shiver went through her.\n\nAs if Gwenhwyfar's thoughts disturbed him, Arthur leaned forward to Gwydion, and his face was troubled. \"Have you come to court to be one of my Companions, Gwydion? I need not tell you that the son of my sister is welcome among my knights.\"\n\n\"I admit I brought him here for that,\" said Morgause, \"but I did not know that this was Galahad's great ceremonial. I would not steal the luster from this occasion. Surely another time will do as well for that.\"\n\nGalahad said ingenuously, \"I would not mind sharing my vigil and vows with my cousin.\"\n\nGwydion laughed. \"You are too generous, kinsman,\" he said, \"but you know little of kingcraft. The King's heir must be proclaimed without any to share that moment. If Arthur should knight us both at the same time, and I am so much the older, and resemble Lancelet so much more-well, there is gossip enough about my parentage; it should not shadow your knighthood as well. Nor,\" he added, laughing, \"my own.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Morgaine shrugged." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They will gossip about the King's kin, whether or no, Gwydion. Let them have some morsel to chew on!\"\n\n\"Yet another thing,\" Gwydion said lightly. \"I have no intent ever to watch by my arms in any Christian church. I am of Avalon. If Arthur will admit me among his Companions for what I am, that will be well, and if not, that too will be well.\"\n\nUriens raised his knotty old arms so that the faded serpents could be seen. \"I sit at the Round Table with no such Christian vow, step-son.\"\n\n\"Nor I,\" said Gawaine. \"We won our knighthoods, all of us who fought in those days, and needed no such ceremonial. Some of us would have been hard put to it, had knighthood been fenced about by such courtly vows as now.\"\n\n\"Even I,\" Lancelet said, \"would be somewhat reluctant to take such vows, such a sinful man as I am. But I am Arthur's man for life or death, and he knows it.\"\n\n\"God forbid I should ever doubt it,\" said Arthur, smiling with deep affection at his old friend. \"You and Gawaine are the very pillars of my kingdom. If I should ever lose either of you, I think my throne would split and fall from the very top of Camelot!\"\n\nHe raised his head as a door opened at the far end of the hall, and a priest in white robes, with two young men dressed in white, came in. Galahad rose, eagerly. \"By your leave, my lord-\"\n\nArthur rose too, and embraced his heir. \"Bless you, Galahad. Go to keep your vigil.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The boy bowed and turned to embrace his father; Gwenhwyfar could not hear what Lancelet said to him. She reached out her hand and Galahad bent to kiss it. \"Give me your blessing, lady.\"\n\n\"Always, Galahad,\" Gwenhwyfar said, and Arthur added, \"We will see you to the church. You must keep your vigil alone, but we will come a little way with you.\"\n\n\"You dome too much honor, my king. Did you not keep vigil when you were crowned?\"\n\n\"He did indeed,\" said Morgaine, smiling, \"but it was far other than this.\"\n\nAS THE WHOLE PARTY MOVED toward the church, Gwydion dropped back until he was walking at Morgaine's side. She looked up at her son-he was not as tall as Arthur, who had the height of the Pendragons, but at her side he seemed tall.\n\n\"I had not expected to see you here, Gwydion.\"\n\n\"I had not expected to be here, madam.\"\n\n\"I heard that you had been fighting in this war, among Arthur's Saxon allies. I knew not that you were a warrior,\"\n\nHe shrugged. \"You have had little opportunity to know much of me, lady.\"\n\nAbruptly, not knowing what she was going to say until she heard herself saying it, she asked, \"Do you hate me that I abandoned you, my son?\"\n\nHe hesitated. \"Perhaps-fora time when I was young,\" he said at last. \"But I am a child of the Goddess, and this forced me to be so in truth, that I could look to no earthly parents. I bear you no grudge now, Lady of the Lake,\" he said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Fora moment the path blurred around her; it was as if the young Lancelet stood at her side..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "her son steadied her gently with his arm.\n\n\"Take care, the path here is not smooth-\"\n\nShe asked, \"How is it with all in Avalon?\"\n\n\"Niniane is well,\" he said. \"I have few ties with any other there, not now.\"\n\n\"Have you seen Galahad's sister there, the maiden called Nimue?\" She frowned, trying to remember how old Nimue would be now. Galahad was sixteen-Nimue would beat least fourteen, almost grown.\n\n\"I know her not,\" said Gwydion. \"The old priestess of the oracles-Raven, is it?-has taken her into the silence and into seclusion. No man may look upon her face.\"\n\nI wonder why Raven did that? A sudden shudder went through her, but she said only, \"How does Raven, then? Is she well?\"\n\n\"I have not heard that she was otherwise,\" said Gwydion, \"though when I last saw her at the rites she seemed older than the very oaks. Still, her voice was sweet and young. But I have never had private speech from her.\"\n\nMorgaine said, \"Nor has any man living, Gwydion, and few women. Twelve years I spent there as a maiden, and I heard her voice but half a dozen times.\" She did not wish to speak or to think of Avalon and said, trying to keep her voice commonplace, \"So you have had battle experience with the Saxons?\"\n\n\"True, and in Brittany-I spent sometime at Lionel's court. Lionel thought me Lancelet's son and would have had me call him Uncle and I told him nothing contrary. It will do Lancelet no harm to bethought capable of fathering a bastard or so. And, even as with the good Lancelet, the Saxons around Ceardig gave me a name. Elf-arrow they called him-any man who accomplishes anything gets a name from those folk. Mordred, they called me-it means in our tongue something like to \"Deadly counsel\" or even \"Evil counsel,\" and I think not that they meant it as compliment!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It takes not much craft in counsel to be wilier than a Saxon,\" she said, \"but tell me, then, what prompted you to come hare before the time I had chosen?\"\n\nGwydion shrugged. \"I felt I might well see my rival.\"\n\nMorgaine glanced fearfully around her. \"Say that not aloud!\"\n\n\"I have no reason to fear Galahad,\" he said quietly. \"He looks not tome like one who will livelong enough to rule.\"\n\n\"Is that the Sight?\"\n\n\"I need not the Sight to tell me it would take one stronger than Galahad to sit on the throne of the Pendragon,\" Gwydion said. \"But if it will ease your mind, lady, I will swear to you by the Sacred Well, Galahad will not die by my hand. Nor,\" he added after a moment, seeing her shiver, \"by yours. If the Goddess does not want him on the throne of the new Avalon, I think we may leave it to her.\"\n\nHe laid his hand fora moment on Morgaine's; gentle as the touch was, she shivered again.\n\n\"Come,\" he said, and it seemed to Morgaine that his voice was as compassionate as a priest's giving absolution. \"Let us go and see my cousin to his arms. It is not right that anything should spoil this great moment of his life. He may not have many more.\"\n\nAs often as Morgause of Lothian had come to Camelot, she never tired of the pageantry. Now, conscious that as one of Arthur's subject queens and the mother of three of his earliest Companions, she would have a favored place at the mock games which marked this day, she sat beside Morgaine in church; at the end of the service, Galahad would be knighted, and he knelt now beside Arthur and Gwenhwyfar, pale and serious and shining with excitement." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Bishop Patricius himself had come from Glastonbury to celebrate the Pentecost mass herein Camelot; he stood now before them in his white robes, intoning: \"Unto thee have we offered this bread, the body of the Only-begotten....\"\n\nMorgause put a plump handover her mouth, smothering a yawn. However often she attended Christian ceremonies, she never thought about them; they were not even as interesting as die rites at Avalon where she had spent her childhood, but she had thought, since she was fourteen or so, that all Gods and all religions were games which men and women played with their minds. None of them had anything to do with real life. Nevertheless, when she was at Pentecost, she dutifully attended mass, to please Gwenhwyfar-the woman washer hostess, and the High Queen, after all, and a close relative-and now, with the rest of the royal family, she went forward to receive the holy bread. Morgaine, attentive at her side, was the only one in the King's household who did not approach the communion table; Morgause thought lazily that Morgaine was a very great fool. Not only did she alienate the common people, but the more pious among the King's household called Morgaine witch and sorceress, and worse things, among themselves. And, after all, what difference did it make? One religious lie was as good as another, was it not? King Uriens, now, he had more sense of what was expedient; Morgause did not think Uriens had anymore religion than Gwenhwyfar's pet house cat. She had seen the serpents of Avalon around his arms; yet, like his son Accolon, he went forward to take part.\n\nBut when the final prayer came, including one for the dead, she discovered that she had tears in her eyes. She missed Lot-his cynical cheerfulness, his steadfast loyalty to her; and he had, after all, given her four fine sons. Gawaine and Gareth knelt near her, among Arthur's own household-Gawaine, as always, close to Arthur; Gareth side by side with his young friend Uwaine-Morgaine's stepson; she had heard Uwaine call Morgaine mother, heard a genuine maternal note in Morgaine's voice when she spoke to him, something she had never thought Morgaine capable of." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "With a rustle of gowns and the small chink of scabbarded swords and such gear, Arthur's household arose and moved to the church porch. Gwenhwyfar, though a little haggard, was still beautiful with the long bright golden braids over her shoulder and her fine gown belted in with a brilliant golden girdle. Arthur looked splendid, too. Excalibur hung in its scabbard at Arthur's side-the same old red velvet scabbard he had worn for more than twenty years now. She supposed that Gwenhwyfar could have embroidered him a handsomer one at anytime in the past ten years.\n\nGalahad knelt before the King; Arthur took from Gawaine a handsome sword and said, \"For you, my dear kinsman and adopted son, this.\" He gestured to Gawaine, who belted it around the boy's slender waist. Galahad looked up with his boyish smile and said clearly, \"I thank you, my king. May I bear it only and always in your service.\"\n\nArthur laid his hands on Galahad's head. He said, \"I gladly receive you among the company of my Companions, Galahad, and confer on you the order of knighthood. Be always faithful and just, and serve the throne and the righteous cause always.\" He raised the youngster, embraced him and kissed him. Gwenhwyfar kissed him too, and the royal company went out toward the huge field, the others behind him.\n\nMorgause found herself walking between Morgaine and Gwydion, with Uriens, Accolon, and Uwaine just behind them. The field had been decorated with green staves wound with ribbons and pennants, and the marshals of the games were pacing off the fighting areas. She saw Lancelet with Galahad, embracing him and giving him a plain white shield. Morgause said, \"Will Lancelet fight today?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Accolon said, \"I think not-I heard he is to be master of the lists; he has won the field too many times. Between ourselves, he is no longer so young, and it would hardly suit the dignity of the Queen's champion to be unseated from his horse by some youth hardly made knight. I've heard that he's been beaten by Gareth more than once, and once by Lamorak-\"\n\nMorgause said smiling, \"I think well of Lamorak that he forbore to boast of that conquest-few men could resist bragging that they had overcome Lancelet even in a mock battle!\"\n\n\"No,\" said Morgaine quietly, \"I think most young knights would be unhappy at the thought that Lancelet was no longer king of the field. He is their hero.\"\n\nGwydion chuckled. \"Do you mean that the young stags forbear to challenge the knight who is King Stag among them?\"\n\n\"I think none of the older knights would do so,\" said Accolon, \"and of the young knights, there are few with enough strength or experience to challenge him. If they did, he would show them a trick or two still.\"\n\n\"I would not,\" said Uwaine quietly. \"I think there is no knight at this court who does not love Lancelet. Gareth could overthrow him anytime now, but he will not shame him at Pentecost, and he and Gawaine have always been evenly matched. Once at a Pentecost like this they fought for more than an hour, and once Gawaine knocked his sword from his hand. I do not know if I could best him in single combat, but he may stay champion while he lives, for all I will ever do to challenge it.\"\n\n\"Challenge him, someday,\" Accolon said, laughing, \"I did so, and he took all the conceit out of me in five minutes! He maybe old, but he has all his skill and strength.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Extend the narrative as the author's co-writer.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 12" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Accolon said, \"I think not-I heard he is to be master of the lists; he has won the field too many times. Between ourselves, he is no longer so young, and it would hardly suit the dignity of the Queen's champion to be unseated from his horse by some youth hardly made knight. I've heard that he's been beaten by Gareth more than once, and once by Lamorak-\"\n\nMorgause said smiling, \"I think well of Lamorak that he forbore to boast of that conquest-few men could resist bragging that they had overcome Lancelet even in a mock battle!\"\n\n\"No,\" said Morgaine quietly, \"I think most young knights would be unhappy at the thought that Lancelet was no longer king of the field. He is their hero.\"\n\nGwydion chuckled. \"Do you mean that the young stags forbear to challenge the knight who is King Stag among them?\"\n\n\"I think none of the older knights would do so,\" said Accolon, \"and of the young knights, there are few with enough strength or experience to challenge him. If they did, he would show them a trick or two still.\"\n\n\"I would not,\" said Uwaine quietly. \"I think there is no knight at this court who does not love Lancelet. Gareth could overthrow him anytime now, but he will not shame him at Pentecost, and he and Gawaine have always been evenly matched. Once at a Pentecost like this they fought for more than an hour, and once Gawaine knocked his sword from his hand. I do not know if I could best him in single combat, but he may stay champion while he lives, for all I will ever do to challenge it.\"\n\n\"Challenge him, someday,\" Accolon said, laughing, \"I did so, and he took all the conceit out of me in five minutes! He maybe old, but he has all his skill and strength.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "He handed Morgaine and his father into the seats reserved for them." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"By your leave, I will go and enter the lists before it is too late.\"\n\n\"And I,\" said Uwaine, bending to kiss his father's hand. He turned to Morgaine. \"I have no lady, Mother. Will you give me a token to bear into the lists?\"\n\nMorgaine smiled indulgently and gave him a ribbon from her sleeve, which he tied about his arm, saying, \"I have arranged to challenge Gawaine to atrial of strength.\"\n\nGwydion said with his charming smile, \"Why, lady, you had better take back your favor-would you have your honor so easily disposed of as that?\"\n\nMorgaine laughed up at Accolon, and Morgause, watching her face come alight, thought, Uwaine is her son, far more than Gwydion; but Accolon, it is plain to see, is more than that. I wonder if the old king knows-or cares?\n\nLamorak was approaching them, and Morgause felt warmed and complimented-there were many pretty ladies on the field, he could have a favor from any of them, yet, before them all, before all Camelot, her dear young man would come and bow before her.\n\n\"My lady, may I wear a token into battle?\"\n\n\"With pleasure, my dear.\" Morgause gave him the rose from the nosegay she wore at her bosom. He kissed the flower; she gave him her hand, pleasantly conscious that her young knight was one of the handsomest men there.\n\n\"Lamorak seems enchanted by you,\" said Morgaine, and although she had given her favor to him before the whole court, Morgause felt herself blush at Morgaine's detached voice.\n\n\"Do you think I have need of charms or spells, kinswoman?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine laughed. \"I should have used another word. Young men seem mostly to want a fair face and little more.\"\n\n\"Well, Morgaine, Accolon is younger than you, and you have certainly captivated him to the point where he has no desire fora younger woman-or a fairer one. I am not the one to reproach you, my dear. You were married against your will, and your husband could be your grandsire.\"\n\nMorgaine shrugged. \"Sometimes I think Uriens knows-perhaps he is glad that I have a lover who will not tempt me to leave him.\"\n\nA little hesitantly-she had never asked Morgaine any personal question since Gwydion's birth-Morgause said, \"You and Uriens are at odds, then?\"\n\nMorgaine gave again that indifferent shrug. \"I think Uriens cares not enough for me to beat odds one way or the other.\"\n\n\"How like you Gwydion?\" Morgause asked.\n\n\"He frightens me,\" said Morgaine. \"Yet it would be hard not to be charmed by him.\"\n\n\"What do you expect? He has Lancelet's beauty and your powers of mind-and he is ambitious as well.\"\n\n\"How strange that you should know my son better than I do,\" Morgaine said, and there was so much bitterness in the words that Morgause, whose first instinct was to rap out a sharp reply-Morgaine had deserted her son, why should it surprise her?-patted the younger woman's hand and said, not unkindly, \"Oh, my dear, once a son is grown out of your lap, I think anyone knows him better than his mother! I am sure that Arthur and his Companions, and even your Uwaine, all know Gawaine better than I do, and he is not even a hard man to understand-he's a perfectly simple man. If you had reared him from a babe you still would not understand Gwydion-I freely confess that I do not!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine's only answer was an uneasy smile. She turned to look at the lists, where the first events were starting; Arthur's fools and clowns were dancing about in ridiculous mock battles, flapping pig's bladders for weapons and cloth banners, garishly painted, in the place of shields, until the watchers were guffawing at their capers. They bowed at last, and Gwenhwyfar, in an exaggerated parody of the gesture with which she would later bestow prizes to the real winners, flung them handfuls of sweets and cakes. They scrambled for them, to more laughter and applause, then capered away to the good dinner waiting for them in the kitchens.\n\nOne of the criers called out that the first match would be atrial combat between the Queen's champion, sir Lancelet of the Lake, and the King's, sir Gawaine of Lothian and the Isles. There was a tumult of applause as they came onto the field-Lancelet slender, dark, and still so handsome, despite the lines in his face and the grey in his hair, that Morgaine felt her breath catch.\n\nYes, thought Morgause, watching her younger kinswoman's face, she loves him still, despite the years. Perhaps she does not know it herself, but there it is.\n\nThe combat was like an elaborately choreographed dance, the two moving round one another, their swords and shields ringing loud. Morgause could not see that either of them had the slightest advantage, and when at last they lowered their swords, bowed to the King, and embraced each other, they were cheered impartially and applauded without the slightest favoritism.\n\nThen came the horse games: demonstrations of fancy riding, a man riding an unbroken horse to master it-Morgause faintly remembered a time when Lancelet had done some such thing, perhaps at Arthur's wedding-it seemed very long ago. After that, there were individual duels on horseback, with blunted spears which could nevertheless unhorse a rider and give him a nasty spill into the field. One young rider fell twisted on his leg and was carried away screaming, the leg sticking out at an improbable angle. This was the only serious injury, but there were bruises, smashed fingers, men flung senseless to the ground, and one who barely escaped being kicked by a badly trained horse. Gwenhwyfar gave prizes at the end of all this, and Morgaine too was called by Arthur and asked to distribute several prizes." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Accolon had won one of the prizes for riding, and as he came to kneel and accept the prize from Morgaine's hands, Morgause was astonished to hear a low, but perceptible hiss of disapproval somewhere in the stands. Someone softly but audibly whispered, \"Witch! Harlot!\"\n\nMorgaine colored, but her hands did not falter as she handed Accolon the cup. Arthur said in a low voice to one of his stewards, \"Find out who that was!\" and the man slipped away, but Morgause was sure that in such a crowd, the voice would never be recognized.\n\nWhen Morgaine came back to her seat at the start of the second half of the entertainment, she looked pale and angry; her hands, Morgause noted, were shaking, and her breath coming fast in her throat.\n\n\"My dear, don't worry about it,\" said Morgause. \"What do you think they call me, when it is a year of poor crops, or when someone has had justice done to him and would rather have gotten away with his villainy?\"\n\n\"Do you think I care what that rabble think of me?\" Morgaine said scornfully, but Morgause knew her indifference was pretended. \"I am loved well enough in my own country.\"\n\nThe second half of the games began with some Saxon churls demonstrating the art of wrestling. They were huge hairy men, hair not only on their faces but allover their near-naked bodies; they grunted and strained and heaved, with hoarse cries, grappling and wrenching with bone-cracking strength. Morgause leaned forward, shamelessly enjoying the sight of their male strength; but Morgaine turned her eyes away in squeamish distaste.\n\n\"Oh, come, Morgaine, you are growing as prudish as the Queen. What a face!\" Morgause shaded her eyes with her hand and glanced down to the field. \"I think the mock battle is about to begin-Look! Is that Gwydion? What can he be doing?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwydion had leaped into the field, and waving away the crier who hurried to him, called out in a strong, clear voice which could be heard clearly from one end of the field to another, \"King Arthur!\"\n\nMorgause saw that Morgaine had sunk back, white as death, and was clutching the rails with both hands. What was the lad about? Was he going to make a scene here before half of Arthur's people, demanding the acknowledgment that was his?\n\nArthur rose, and Morgause thought that he too looked uneasy, but his voice was ringing clear.\n\n\"Yes, nephew?\"\n\n\"I have heard that it is customary at these games to allow a challenge, if the King is willing. I ask now if sir Lancelet will meet me fora challenge fight!\"\n\nLancelet had once said-Morgause remembered this-that such challenges were the bane of his existence; every young knight wanted to master the Queen's champion. Arthur's voice was grave. \"It is customary, but I cannot speak for Lancelet. If he agrees to this match, I cannot refuse him, but you must challenge him directly and abide by his answer.\"\n\nMorgause said, \"Oh, damn the boy! I had no idea this was what he had in mind...\" but Morgaine somehow felt she was not so displeased, after all.\n\nA wind had come up, and dust from the field was blowing, blurring the summer glare of the dry white clay of the field. Gwydion walked through the dust to the end of the lists, where Lancelet was sitting on a bench. Morgause could not hear what either of them said, but Gwydion turned angrily and shouted, \"My lords! I heard always that a champion's duty is to meet with all comers! Sir, I demand that Lancelet now meet my challenge or yield up his high office tome! Does he hold his post because of his skill at arms, or for some other reason, my lord Arthur?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I wish,\" said Morgause, \"that your son were still young enough to have his breeches well dusted, Morgaine!\"\n\n\"Why blame him?\" asked Morgaine. \"Why not blame Gwenhwyfar for making her husband so vulnerable? Everyone in this kingdom knows she favors Lancelet, yet no one cries out \"witch\" or \"harlot\" when she comes before the people.\"\n\nBut Lancelet, below them, had risen and strode to Gwydion; he brought back his gloved hand and struck the younger man smartly across the mouth. \"Now indeed you have given me cause to chastise your ungentle tongue, young Gwydion. We will see who refuses combat now!\"\n\n\"I came here for that,\" said Gwydion, unmoved by blow or words, though there was a small trickle of blood on his face. \"I will even grant you first blood, sir Lancelet. It is fitting that a man of your years should have some advantage.\"\n\nLancelet spoke to one of his marshals, who came to take his place as master of the lists. There was a considerable murmuring in the stands as Lancelet and Gwydion took swords and faced the King for the ritual bow which began the contest. Morgause thought, If there is a man in that crowd who does not believe that they are father and son, he must have poor eyesight.\n\nThe two men raised swords to each other, their faces now hidden by helmets. They were within an inch of the same height; the only difference between them was between Lancelet's battered old breastplate and armor, and Gwydion's newer, unstained gear. They circled one another slowly, then rushed in and fora moment Morgause lost track of the separate strokes, which were nearly too fast for the eye to follow. She could see that Lancelet was taking the younger man's measure, and after a moment he pressed hard and struck a mighty blow. Gwydion caught it on the side of his shield, but the force behind it was so enormous that he reeled, lost his balance, and measured his length on the field. He began to scramble up. Lancelet put his sword aside and went to help the young man to his feet. Morgause could not hear what he said, but the gesture was good-natured, something like, \"Had enough, youngster?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwydion pointed to the trickle of blood down Lancelet's wrist from a small cut he had managed to inflict. His voice was clearly audible.\n\n\"You drew first blood, sir, and I second. Shall we decide it with one more fall?\"\n\nThere was a small storm of hissing and disapproval; first blood in these demonstration matches, since the contestants fought with sharp weapons, was supposed to end the fight.\n\nKing Arthur rose in his place. \"This is a festival and a courtesy challenge, not a duel! I will have no settling of grudges here, unless you fight with fists or cudgels! Continue if you will, but I warn you, if there is a serious wounding, you will both be under my gravest displeasure!\"\n\nThey bowed and moved apart, circling for their advantage; then they rushed together, and Morgause gasped, watching the fierceness of it. It seemed that at any moment one or the other might rush in under the shield and inflict a mortal wound! One of them had gone to his knees-a rain of blows on the shield, the swords locked together in a deadlock, and one was borne closer and closer to the ground...\n\nGwenhwyfar rose and cried out, \"I will have this go no further!\"\n\nArthur cast his baton into the lists; by custom, a fight was instantly stopped when that happened, but neither man saw, and the marshals had to pull them apart. Gwydion stood fresh and erect, smiling as he pulled off his helmet. Lancelet's squire had to help the older man to his feet; he was breathing hard, sweat and blood pouring down his face. There was a perfect storm of hissing, even from the other knights on the field; Gwydion had added nothing to his popularity by shaming the hero of the people." }, { "from": "human", "value": "But he bowed to the older knight." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I am honored, sir Lancelet. I came to this court a stranger, not even one of Arthur's Companions, and I am grateful to you fora lesson in swordplay.\" His smile was the very reflection of Lancelet's own. \"Thank you, sir.\"\n\nLancelet managed to summon from somewhere his old smile. It exaggerated the resemblance between them almost to the point of caricature. \"You bore yourself most bravely, Gwydion.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said Gwydion, kneeling before him in the dust of the field, \"I beg of you, sir, grant tome the order of knighthood.\"\n\nMorgause caught her breath. Morgaine sat as if she had been turned to stone. But from where the Saxons sat there was a burst of cheering. \"Crafty counsel indeed! Clever, clever-how can they refuse you now, lad, when you have stood up well to combat with their own champion!\"\n\nLancelet glanced at Arthur. The King sat paralyzed, seeming frozen, but after a moment, he nodded. Lancelet gestured to his squire, who brought a sword. Lancelot took it and belted it around Gwydion's waist. \"Bear this always in the service of your king, and of the righteous cause,\" said the old knight. He was deadly serious now. All the mockery and defiance had gone from Gwydion's face; he looked grave and sweet, his eyes raised to Lancelet, and Morgause saw that his lips were trembling.\n\nSudden sympathy for him rose in Morgause-bastard, not even an acknowledged one, he was even more of an outsider than Lancelet had been. Who could blame Gwydion for the ruse by which he had forced his kinsmen to notice him? She thought, We should have taken him long since to Arthur's court, had him privately acknowledged even if Arthur could not do so publicly. A king's son should not have to do this." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lancelet laid his hands on Gwydion's brow. \"I confer on you the honor of a Companion of the Round Table, by permission of our king. Serve him always, and since you have won this honor by craft rather than brute strength-though indeed you have shown that too, well enough-I name you among this company, not Gwydion, but Mordred. Rise, sir Mordred, and take your place among the Companions of Arthur.\"\n\nGwydion-no, Mordred, Morgause remembered; for the naming of a Companion was a rite not much less serious than baptism-rose and heartily returned Lancelet's embrace. He seemed deeply moved, almost unhearing the cheers and applause. His voice broke as he said, \"Now I have won the prize of the day, whoever is judged winner in these games, my lord Lancelet.\"\n\n\"No,\" Morgaine said quietly at Morgause's side, \"I do not understand him. That is the last thing I would have expected.\"\n\nTHERE WAS along pause before the Companions ranged themselves for the final mock battle. Some went to drink water or swallow a hasty bite of bread; some gathered in little knots, arguing about which side they should take in the final games; others went to see to their horses. Morgause went down to the field where a few of the young men lingered, Gareth among them-he towered over the others by half ahead, making him easy to pick out. She thought he was talking to Lancelet, but when she came closer she discovered her sight had deceived her; he was facing Gwydion, and his voice sounded angry. She caught only the last few words.\n\n\"-what harm has he ever done you? To make a fool of him before the whole field-\"\n\nGwydion laughed and said, \"If our cousin needs protection before a whole field of his friends, God help Lancelet when he falls among the Saxons or the Northmen! Come, foster-brother, I doubt not he can protect his own reputation! Is that all you have to say tome after all these years, brother, to chide me that I have distressed someone you love so well?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gareth laughed and caught Gwydion into a great hug. He said, \"Same reckless young one, you are-what put it into your head to do that? Arthur would have made you knight, if you had asked him!\"\n\nMorgause remembered: Gareth did not know all the truth about Gwydion's parentage; no doubt, he meant only, because you are his sister's son.\n\nGwydion said, \"I am sure of it-he is always kind to his kinsmen. He would have made you knight, Gareth, for Gawaine's sake, but you took not that road either, foster-brother.\" He chuckled. \"And I think Lancelet owes me something for all those years I have walked about wearing his face!\"\n\nGareth shrugged ruefully. \"Well, it seems he bears you no grudge, so I suppose I too must forgive you. Now you, too, have seen how greathearted he is.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" said Gwydion softly, \"he is so-\" then raised his head and saw Morgause. \"Mother, what do you here? How may I serve you?\"\n\n\"I came only to greet Gareth, who has not spoken with me this day,\" said Morgause, and the big man bent to kiss his mother's hand. She asked him, \"How will you fight in the mock battle?\"\n\n\"As always,\" said Gareth, \"I fight at Gawaine's side, in the King's men. You have a horse for fighting, do you not, Gwydion? Will you fight with the King's side, then? We can make a place for you.\"\n\nGwydion said, with his dark enigmatic smile, \"Since Lancelet made me knight, I suppose I should fight with the army of sir Lancelet of the Lake, and at Accolon's side, for Avalon. But I will not take the field at all today, Gareth.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Why not?\" Gareth asked and laid his hand on the younger man's shoulder, looking down at him as he had always done-Morgause thought of a younger Gareth, smiling down at his little brother. \"It is expected of those who have been made knight-Galahad will fight among us, you know.\"\n\n\"And which side will he take?\" Gwydion asked. \"His father Lancelet's, or that of the King who has made him heir to his kingdom? Is that not a cruel test of his loyalties?\"\n\nGareth looked exasperated. \"How then would you divide the armies for the mock battle, save by the two greatest knights among us? Do you think either Lancelet or Arthur believes it a test of loyalties? Arthur will not take the field himself, just so that no man will have to make the choice whether to strike at his king, but Gawaine has been his champion since he was crowned! Are you going to rake up old scandal? You?\"\n\nGwydion shrugged. \"Since I am not intending to join either force-\"\n\n\"But what will they think of you? That you are cowardly, that you shrink from combat-\"\n\n\"I have fought enough in Arthur's armies that I care not what they say,\" said Gwydion, \"but if you wish, you may tell them that my horse is gone lame and I have no wish to risk more injury to him-that is an honorable excuse.\"\n\n\"I would lend you a horse of Gawaine,\" Gareth said, puzzled, \"but if you wish for an honorable excuse, do what you will. But why, Gwydion? Or must I now call you Mordred?\"\n\n\"You shall call me always what you will, foster-brother.\"\n\n\"But will you not tell me why you shirk the fight, Gwydion?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"None other but you could speak that word unchallenged,\" said Gwydion, \"but since you ask me, I will tell you. It is for your sake, brother.\"\n\nGareth scowled at him. \"What, in God's name, do you mean?\"\n\n\"I know little of God, or care to,\" said Gwydion, and stared down at his feet. \"Since you will know, brother-you know from old-I have the Sight-\"\n\n\"Aye, and what of it?\" asked Gareth impatiently. \"Have you had some ill dream that I will fall before your lance?\"\n\n\"No, make not a jest of it,\" said Gwydion, and Morgause felt ice go through her veins as he turned up his face to Gareth. \"It seemed tome-\" He swallowed, as if his throat closed against the words he would speak. \"It seemed tome that you lay dying-and I knelt at your side, and you would not speak tome-and I knew it was my doing you lay without the spark of life.\"\n\nGareth pursed his lips and whistled soundlessly. But then he clapped his foster-brother on the shoulder. \"Nay, but I put small faith in dreams and visions, youngster. And fate, no man can escape. Did they not teach you that in Avalon?\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Gwydion said softly. \"And if you fell, even at my hand, in battle, fate then it would be... but I will not tempt that fate in play, my brother. Some ill chance might guide my hand to strike amiss.... Let it be, Gareth. I will not take the field this day, let them say what they will.\"\n\nGareth still looked distressed. \"Well, do as you will, lad. Stay beside our mother, then, since Lamorak will take the field beside Lancelet.\" He bent to kiss his mother's hand, and went; Morgause, frowning, started to ask Gwydion what he had seen; but he was scowling, staring at the ground, and she forbore, saying only, \"Well, if I am to have a young courtier to sit beside me, will you bring me a dipper of water before I go to my seat again?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Certainly, Mother,\" he said, and went off toward the water butts.\n\nTo Morgause, the final scrimmage battle was always something of a blur; her head had begun to ache with the sun and she was eager for it to be over. She was hungry, too, and could smell, from a distance, the meat roasting in the pits.\n\nGwydion sat beside her and explained it to her, though she knew little of the fine points of fighting, nor cared to. But she did note that Galahad acquitted himself well, unseating two riders; she was a little surprised, he seemed so gentle a boy. But then, Gareth too had seemed a gentle child to her, and he was the most fearsome of fighters. At the end, he took the prize on the King's side where Gawaine was at the head of the fighting. To no one's surprise, Galahad won the prize on Lancelet's side; this was customary fora young man who had been knighted that day, and she said so.\n\n\"You could have had a prize too, Gwydion,\" she said, but he laughed and shook his head. \"I need it not, Mother. Why spoil this day for my cousin? And Galahad fought well-no one begrudges him the prize.\"\n\nThere were many smaller prizes, and when they were all given, the knights went to be sluiced with buckets of water from head to toe by their squires, and to put on fresh clothing. Morgause went with the ladies of the King's household to a room put at their disposal, where they could arrange their gowns and hair, and wash off the dust and sweat of the stands.\n\n\"How do you think?\" Morgause asked. \"Has Lancelet made himself an enemy?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine said, \"I think not. Did you see them embrace?\"\n\n\"They looked like father and son,\" said Morgause. \"Would that they were!\"\n\nBut Morgaine's face was like stone. \"It is many years too late to speak of that, Aunt.\"\n\nMorgause reflected, Perhaps she has forgotten that I know whose son he really is. But before Morgaine's frozen calm she could only say, \"Would you like me to help with your braids at the back?\" and took up the comb as Morgaine turned. \"Mordred,\" she said, as she worked. \"Well, he showed crafty counsel here, God knows! Now he has won himself a place by valor and impudence, so he need not demand one from Arthur on the grounds of his parentage. The Saxons named him well. But I knew not he was so much of a fighter. He has certainly managed to carry away the luster of the day! Even though Galahad won the prize, no one will talk about anything but Mordred's daring gesture.\"\n\nOne of the Queen's ladies came up to them. \"Lady Morgaine, is sir Mordred your son? I never knew you had a son-\"\n\nMorgaine said steadily, \"I was very young when he was born, and Morgause fostered him. I had come near to forgetting it myself.\"\n\n\"How proud you must be of him! And isn't he handsome? As good-looking as Lancelet himself,\" the woman said, and her eyes glistened.\n\n\"He is, isn't he,\" agreed Morgaine, her tone so courteous that only Morgause, who knew her well, knew that she was angry. \"It has been an embarrassment to them both, I daresay. But Lancelet and I are first cousins, and when I was a little girl, I was more like him than like my own brother. Our mother was tall and red-haired like Queen Morgause here, but Lady Viviane was of the old folk of Avalon.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Who is his father, then?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "asked the woman, and Morgause saw Morgaine's hands clench at her sides. But she said with a pleasant smile, \"He is a Beltane child, and the God claims all children gotten in the groves. No doubt you remember that as a young girl I was one of the damsels of the Lady of the Lake.\"\n\nTrying to be polite, the woman murmured, \"I had forgotten-they still kept the old rites there, then?\"\n\n\"As they do now,\" said Morgaine quietly. \"And the Goddess grant they shall do so till the world end.\"\n\nAs she had intended, that silenced the woman, and Morgaine turned away, saying to Morgause, \"Are you ready, kinswoman? Let us go down to the hall.\" As they left the room she drew along breath of mingled exasperation and relief.\n\n\"Chattering fools-listen to them! Have they nothing better to do than gossip?\"\n\n\"Probably not,\" said Morgause. \"Their most Christian husbands and fathers make sure they shall have nothing else to occupy their minds.\"\n\nThe doors to the great chamber of the Round Table where the Pentecost feast would beheld were shut, so that they might all enter at once.\n\n\"Arthur every year gives us more pageantry,\" said Morgause. \"Now a grand procession and entrance, I suppose?\"\n\n\"What do you expect?\" Morgaine asked. \"Now there are no wars, he must touch the imagination of his people somehow, and he is clever enough to do it by making great display for them-I have heard it was the Merlin who counselled him so. The common folk-yes, and the nobles too-like a fine show, and the Druids have known that since they lit the first Beltane fires. Gwenhwyfar has spent many years making this the greatest holiday anywhere in any Christian land.\" She gave the first real smile Morgause had seen on her face this day. \"Even Arthur knows he cannot hold his people with amass and a feast alone-if there is no great marvel to see, I doubt not Arthur and the Merlin will somehow arrange one! What a pity they could not arrange to hold the eclipse today!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Did you watch the eclipse in Wales? My folk were frightened,\" Morgause said, \"and no doubt, those fools of Gwenhwyfar's ladies shrieked and shouted as if the world were coming to an end!\"\n\n\"Gwenhwyfar has a passion for fools among her ladies,\" Morgaine said. \"Yet she herself is not really a fool, though she likes to seem so. I wonder how she can tolerate it?\"\n\n\"You should show more patience with them,\" Morgause warned, and Morgaine shrugged.\n\n\"I care not what fools think of me.\"\n\n\"I cannot imagine how you have dwelt in Uriens' kingdom as his queen so long, and not learned more of queencraft,\" said Morgause. \"Whatever she is thought by men, a woman must depend on the goodwill of other women-what else did you learn at Avalon?\"\n\nMorgaine said, her voice hard, \"The women in Avalon are not such fools.\" But Morgause knew her well enough to know that her angry tone concealed loneliness and suffering.\n\n\"Morgaine, why do you not return to Avalon?\"\n\nMorgaine bent her head, knowing that if Morgause spoke kindly again to her she would break and weep. \"My time has not yet come. I have been ordered to stay with Uriens-\"\n\n\"And Accolon?\"\n\n\"Oh, aye, with Accolon,\" said Morgaine. \"I might have known you would reproach me with that-\"\n\n\"I am the last to speak,\" said Morgause. \"But Uriens will not livelong-\"\n\nMorgaine said, her face as frozen as her voice, \"So I believed on that day years ago when we were wedded. He is like to live as long as Taliesin himself, and Taliesin was past ninety when he died.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arthur and Gwenhwyfar had arrived and were slowly making their way to the head of the line-Arthur resplendently clad in white robes, Gwenhwyfar beside him, exquisite in white silk and jewels. The great doors were flung open, and they passed within, then Morgaine as the King's sister with her husband and his sons, Accolon and Uwaine; then Morgause with her household, as the King's aunt; then Lancelet and his household, and then the other knights one by one, proceeding around the Round Table to take their seats. A few years back, some craftsman had wrought in gold paint and crimson the name of every Companion over his customary chair. Now, as they entered, Morgause noticed that the seat nearest the King, reserved all these years for his heir, had been painted with the name Galahad. But she saw it only in a flicker of her eye. For at the great thrones where Arthur and Gwenhwyfar were to sit, two white banners, like the garish banners with which the battles of the clowns had been fought, had been draped, and across them were scrawled paintings, ugly caricatures-on one throne was a banner portraying a knight standing on the heads of two crowned figures, bearing a devilish likeness to Arthur and Gwenhwyfar; and across the other was a lewd painting which made even Morgause, who was by no means prudish, blush, for it depicted a small, dark-haired woman, stark naked, in the embrace of a huge horned devil, and all about her, accepting certain strange and disgusting sexual ministrations, were scrawled a group of naked men.\n\nGwenhwyfar cried out in a shrill scream, \"God and Mary defend us!\"\n\nArthur, stopped dead, turned on the servants in a voice of thunder. \"How came this-this-\" Words failed him and he waved his hand at the drawings. \"-this here?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Sir-\" the chamberlain stammered, \"it was not here when we finished decking the hall-all was orderly, even to the flowers before the Queen's seat-\"\n\n\"Who was last in this hall?\" Arthur demanded.\n\nCai limped forward. \"My lord and my brother, it was 1.1 came to be certain all was in good order, and I swear as God sees us all, everything was ready at that time to honor my king and his lady. And if ever I find the foul dog who sneaked into put this thing here, I will have his head like this!\" And he gestured as if he were wringing a chicken's neck.\n\n\"Look to your lady!\" said Arthur sharply. The women were twittering and chattering as Gwenhwyfar began to sink down in a faint. Morgaine held her up, saying in a sharp, low voice, \"Gwen, don't give them this satisfaction! You area queen-what do you care what some fool scrawls on a banner? Control yourself!\"\n\nGwenhwyfar was crying. \"How can they-how could they-how could anyone hate me so?\"\n\n\"There is no one alive who can live without offending some idiot or other,\" said Morgaine, and helped her toward her seat. But the more crudely sexual of the banners was still draped over it, and Gwenhwyfar shrank back as if she touched something filthy. Morgaine threw it on the floor. There were wine cups set; Morgaine gestured to one of Gwenhwyfar's waiting-women to fill one and give it to the Queen.\n\n\"Don't let it trouble you, Gwen-I imagine that one is meant for me,\" she said. \"It is whispered indeed that I take devils to my bed, and what do I care?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Arthur said, \"Get this foulness out of here and burn it, and bring scented woods and incense to takeaway the stink of evil.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lackeys scurried to obey him, and Cai said, \"We will find out who did this. No doubt it is some servant I dismissed, coming back to embarrass me because I had shown some pride in the decorations of the hall this year. Men, bring the wine round, and the ale, and we will have our first round of drinking shame and confusion to that stinking louse who tried to spoil our feast. Will we let him? Come! Drink to King Arthur and his lady!\"\n\nA thin cheer went up, which grew to a genuine cry of appreciation as Arthur and Gwenhwyfar bowed to them all. The feasters seated themselves, and Arthur said, \"Now bring before meany petitioners.\"\n\nMorgause watched as they brought up some man with a complaint which seemed stupid, about a boundary. Then came an overlord who complained that his vassal had taken a deer on his lands.\n\nMorgause was near Gwenhwyfar; she leaned over and murmured to the Queen, \"Why does Arthur hear these cases himself? Any of his bailiffs could handle this and not waste his time.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar murmured, \"So I once thought. But he hears a case or two like this, every year at Pentecost, so that the common folk may not think he cares only for the great nobles or his own Companions.\"\n\nWell, Morgause thought, that was wise enough. There were two or three more small petitions, then as the meat was brought round, jugglers and acrobats entertained the company, and a man did some conjuring trick of bringing small birds and eggs from the most unlikely places. Morgause thought that Gwenhwyfar seemed calm now, and wondered if they would ever catch the author of the drawings. One portrayed Morgaine as a harlot and that was bad enough; but the other, it seemed, was more serious-showing Lancelet trampling on both King and Queen. Something had happened today beyond a public humiliation for the Queen's champion, Morgause reflected. That could have been dispelled by the graciousness he had shown to young Gwydion-no, Mordred-and the obvious lack of any grudge between them after. But despite Lancelet's popularity with King and Companions, there were, no doubt, some who detested Gwenhwyfar's obvious partiality to her champion." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What is happening now?\" she asked Gwenhwyfar.\n\nThe Queen smiled; whatever it was, as the horns blew outside the hall, it was something which pleased her.\n\nThe doors were flung open; horns blared again, the crude horns of the Saxons. Then three great Saxons, wearing gold torques and bracelets about their arms, clad in garments of fur and leather, bearing great swords and their horned helmets and with circlets of gold about their heads, strode into the hall of the Round Table, each with his retinue.\n\n\"My lord Arthur,\" called out one of them, \"I am Adelric, lord of Kent and Anglia, and these are my brother kings. We have come to ask that we may give tribute to you, most Christian of kings, and make permanent treaty with you and your court forever!\"\n\n\"Lot would be turning in his grave,\" remarked Morgause, \"but Viv-iane would be pleased at this day.\" But Morgaine did not answer.\n\nBishop Patricius rose and came toward the Saxon kings, welcoming them. He said to Arthur, \"My lord, after the long wars, this gives me great joy. I urge you to welcome these men as your subject kings and take their oath, in token that all Christian kings should be brothers.\"\n\nMorgaine was deathly white. She started to rise and speak, but Uriens looked at her with astern frown and she sank back at his side. Morgause said good-naturedly, \"I remember when the bishops refused even to send anyone to Christianize these barbarians. Lot told me they had vowed they would not meet with the Saxons in fellowship even in Heaven, and that they would not send missions to them-they felt it right that the Saxons should all end up in Hell. But, well, that is thirty years gone!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arthur said, \"Since I came to my throne, I have longed for an end to the wars which have ravaged this land. We have dwelt in peace for many years, Lord Bishop, and now I welcome you, good sirs, to my court and to my company.\"\n\n\"It is our custom,\" said one of the Saxons-not Adelric, Morgause noticed, for this one was wearing some kind of blue cloak, and Adelric's had been brown-\"to take oath on steel. May we take oath on the cross of your sword, Lord Arthur, in token that we meet as Christian kings under One God who rules us all?\"\n\n\"Be it so,\" said Arthur quietly, and came down from the dais to stand before them. In the light of the many torches and lamps, Excalibur flashed like lightning as he drew it. He set it upright before him and a great wavering shadow, the shadow of across, fell all the length of the hall, as the kings knelt.\n\nGwenhwyfar looked pleased; Galahad was flushed with joy. But Morgaine was white with rage, and Morgause heard her whisper to Uriens. \"He has dared to put the sacred sword of Avalon to such uses! I will not, as priestess of Avalon, sit and witness it in silence!\" She began to rise, but Uriens gripped her wrist. She struggled silently, but old as Uriens was, he was a warrior, and Morgaine a little woman; fora moment Morgause thought he would break the small bones of Morgaine's wrist, but she did not cry out or whimper. She set her teeth, and managed to wrench her wrist away. She said, loud enough that Gwenhwyfar could certainly hear, \"Viviane died with her work unfinished. And I have sat idle while children unconceived grew to manhood and were knighted, and Arthur fell into the hands of the priests!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Lady,\" said Accolon, leaning over her chair, \"even you cannot disrupt this holy day, or they will serve you as the Romans served the Druids. Speak in private with Arthur, remonstrate with him there if you must-I am sure the Merlin will help you!\"\n\nMorgaine lowered her eyes. Her teeth bit into her lip.\n\nArthur embraced the Saxon kings one by one, welcoming them and leading them to seats near his throne. \"Your sons, if they show themselves worthy, will be welcome among my Companions,\" he said, and had his servants bring gifts-swords and fine daggers, a rich cloak for Adelric. Morgause took up a cake, sticky with honey, and put it between Morgaine's clenched lips.\n\n\"You are too fond of fasting, Morgaine,\" she said. \"Eat this! You are pale, you will swoon where you sit!\"\n\n\"It is not hunger that makes me pale,\" said Morgaine, but she took the cake in her mouth. She drank a little wine too, and Morgause could see that her hands were shaking. On one wrist there were dark bruises left by Uriens' fingers.\n\nThen Morgaine rose. She said quietly to Uriens, \"Do not worry, my most beloved husband. I will say nothing to offend you or our king.\" Then, turning to Arthur, she said loudly, \"My lord and brother! May I ask a favor of you?\"\n\n\"My sister and the wife of my loyal subject king Uriens may ask what she will,\" said Arthur genially.\n\n\"The least of your subjects, sir, may ask for audience. I ask that you will grant me such an audience,\" she said. Arthur raised his eyebrows, but took his formal tone from her.\n\n\"Tonight before I sleep, if you will. I will receive you in my own room, with your husband if you wish.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I wish, thought Morgause, that I could be a fly on the wall at that audience!\n\nIn the chamber Gwenhwyfar had assigned King Uriens and his family, Morgaine combed her hair again with leaden fingers and had her waiting-woman lace her into afresh gown. Uriens was complaining that he had eaten and drunk too well and was not looking forward to the audience.\n\n\"Go to bed then,\" she said. \"It is I who has a thing to say to him, it has nothing to do with you.\"\n\n\"Not so,\" said Uriens. \"I too was lessoned in Avalon. Do you think I take pleasure in seeing the holy things put to the service of the Christian God who would strip all other knowledge from the world? No, Morgaine, it is not you alone as priestess of Avalon who should show your outrage at this. It is the kingdom of North Wales, I myself as ruler, and Accolon, who is pledged to rule when I am gone.\"\n\n\"Father is right, madam.\" Accolon met her eyes as he said, \"Our people trust us that we will not betray them, nor let church bells ring in their holy groves-\" and fora moment it seemed, though she knew that neither she nor Accolon had moved, that they were standing together in one of the magical groves, joined before the Goddess. Uriens, of course, had seen nothing. He urged, \"Let Arthur know, Morgaine, that the kingdom of North Wales will not fall meekly under the rule of the Christians.\"\n\nMorgaine shrugged. \"As you wish.\"\n\nI was a fool, she thought. I was priestess at his kingmaking, I bore Arthur a son, I should have used that hold I had on the King's conscience-made myself, not Gwenhwyfar, the ruler behind the throne. While I hid like an animal licking wounds, I lost my hold on Arthur. Where, atone time, I could have commanded, now I must beg, without even the power of the Lady!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "She had already turned toward the door when there was a knocking; a servant went to open it, and Gwydion came in." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He was still wearing the Saxon sword that Lancelet had given him at his knighting, but he had taken off his armor and wore a rich gown of scarlet; she had not known he could look so fine.\n\nHe saw her eyes light on him. \"Lancelet gave it me. We were drinking in the hall, and word came from Arthur that the King wished to see me in his chambers.... I said that my only tunic was bedraggled and blood-soaked and he said we were of a size and he would lend me a gown. When I had it on, he said it became me better than it did him and I should keep it-that I had had few enough gifts at my knighting, while the King had given Galahad many rich presents. Does he know Arthur is my father, that he said that?\"\n\nUriens blinked and looked surprised, but said nothing. Accolon shook his head. \"No, stepbrother. Lancelet is the most generous of men, that is all. When Gareth came first to court, unknown to his own kinsmen, Lancelet gave him clothes and weapons, so that Gareth should be dressed according to his station. And if you should ask if Lancelet likes it overmuch, seeing his gifts on the bodies of handsome young men, well, that has been said too before now, though I know of no man at this court, young or old, who has ever had a word from Lancelet beyond knightly courtesy.\"\n\n\"Is it so?\" Gwydion asked, and Morgaine could see him taking this piece of information and putting it away like gold in a miser's chest. \"Now I recall,\" he said slowly, \"a tale that went about of some feast at Lot's court when Lancelet was no more than a youth-something of a ballad made when they thrust a harp into his hand and bade him play, and he sang some lay of Rome or the days of Alexander, I know not what, of the love of knightly companions, and they jeered at him for it. Since then, his songs are all of the beauty of our queen, or knightly tales of adventure and dragons.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine felt she could not bear the scorn in his voice. She said, \"If you came to claim a gift for your knighting, I will speak with you when I have seen Arthur, but not now.\"\n\nGwydion looked down at his shoes. It was the first time she had ever seen him less than self-assured and confident. \"Mother, the King has sent for me too-may I go in your company?\"\n\nShe liked him a little better, that he should confess his own vulnerability this way. \"Arthur means you no harm, my son, but if it will please you to go with us before him, he can do no worse than send you away and say he would rather speak to you separately.\"\n\n\"Come, then, stepbrother,\" said Accolon, taking Gwydion's arm in such away that the younger man could seethe serpents tattooed on Accolon's wrists. \"The King shall go first with his lady, and you and I will follow....\"\n\nMorgaine, at Uriens' side, thought that she liked it well that Accolon should befriend her son and acknowledge him brother. At the same time she felt herself shiver, and Uriens took her hand. \"Are you cold, Morgaine? Take your cloak...\"\n\nIN THE KING'S apartments afire burned, and Morgaine heard the sound of a harp. Arthur satin a wooden chair heaped with cushions. Gwenhwyfar was setting stitches in a narrow band which twinkled with gilt thread. The servant announced ceremoniously, \"The King and Queen of North Wales, and their son Accolon, and sir Lancelet-\"\n\nGwenhwyfar looked up at Lancelet's name, then laughed and said, \"No, though he is very like. Sir Mordred, is it not, that we saw knighted this day?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Gwydion bowed to the Queen but did not speak." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But in this family gathering Arthur was not one to stand upon ceremony.\n\n\"Sit down, all of you-let me send for wine-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Uriens said, \"I have had enough wine this day, Arthur, to float a ship down to the shore! None for me, thank you-perhaps the young men have better heads for it.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar moved toward Morgaine, and Morgaine knew that if she did not speak now, Arthur would begin his parley with the men and she would be expected to sit in a corner with the Queen and keep silence, or talk in whispers of women's things-embroidery, servants, who at the court was breeding...\n\nShe gestured to the servant with the wine. \"I will have a cup,\" she said, remembering, like a pain within her, when as priestess of Avalon she had been proud to drink only of the Holy Well. She sipped and said, \"I am deeply distressed at the welcome of the Saxon envoys, Arthur. No-\" She silenced him as he would have spoken. \"I do not speak as a woman meddling in affairs of state. I am Queen of North Wales, and Duchess of Cornwall, and what concerns the realm touches me too.\"\n\n\"Then you should be glad for peace,\" Arthur said. \"I have worked all my lifetime, it seems, since I was old enough to hold a sword, to end the wars with the Saxons. At that time I believed the war would be ended by driving them back over the seas whence they came. But peace is peace, and if it comes by making treaty with them, let it be so. There are more ways to deal with a bull than roasting him for dinner. It is equally effective to geld him and make him pull your plow.\"\n\n\"Or save him to serve your cows at stud? Will you ask your subject kings to marry their daughters to Saxons, Arthur?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That too, perhaps,\" said Arthur. \"Saxons are no more than men-do you call to mind that song Lancelet sang? They have the same longings for peace-they too have lived on lands ravaged and burned again and again. Will you say I should have fought on till the last of them was dead or driven out? I thought women longed for peace.\"\n\n\"I too long for peace, and welcome it, even with Saxons,\" Morgaine said, \"but have you made them give up their Gods too, and accept your own, that you made them swear to you on the cross?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar had been listening intently. \"There are no other Gods, Morgaine. They have agreed to put aside the devils they worshipped and called Gods, that is all. Now they worship the one true God and the Christ sent in his name to save mankind.\"\n\nGwydion said, \"If you truly believe that, my lady and queen, then for you it is truth-all the Gods are One God and all the Goddesses one Goddess. But would you presume to declare one truth for all of mankind throughout the world?\"\n\n\"Call you that presumption? It is the one truth,\" Gwenhwyfar said, \"and a day must come when all men everywhere will acknowledge it.\"\n\n\"I tremble for my people that you say so,\" said King Uriens. \"I have pledged myself to protect the sacred groves, and my son after me.\"\n\n\"Why, I thought you a Christian, my lord of North Wales-\"\n\n\"And so I am,\" said Uriens, \"but I will not speak ill of another's God.\"\n\n\"But there are no such Gods,\" Gwenhwyfar began.\n\nMorgaine opened her mouth to speak, but Arthur said, \"Enough of this, enough-I did not bid you hereto discuss theology! If you have the stomach for that, there are priests enough who will listen and argue. Go you and convert them if you must! What did you come hereto say, Morgaine? Only that you are wary of the good faith of the Saxons, oaths on the cross or no?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No,\" Morgaine said, and as she spoke, she noted that Kevin was in the room, sitting in the shadows with his harp. Good; the Merlin of Britain could witness this protest in the name of Avalon! \"I call the Merlin to witness, you had them swear an oath on the cross-and you transformed the holy sword of Avalon, Excalibur, the very sword of the Holy Regalia, into your cross for the oath! Lord Merlin, is this not blasphemy?\"\n\nArthur said quickly, \"It was only a gesture, to catch the imagination of everyone, Morgaine-such as the gesture Viviane made, when she bade me fight for peace in the name of Avalon with that selfsame sword.\"\n\nThe Merlin said in his rich low voice, \"Morgaine, my dear, the cross is a symbol older than Christ and venerated before ever there were followers of the Nazarene. In Avalon there are priests brought hereby the patriarch Joseph of Arimathea, who worship at the side of the Druids....\"\n\n\"But they were priests who did not try to say that their God is the only God,\" Morgaine said angrily, \"and I doubt not that Bishop Patricius would silence them if he could, and preach only his own brand of bigotry!\"\n\n\"Bishop Patricius and his beliefs are not at issue here, Morgaine,\" said Kevin. \"Let the uninitiated think that the Saxons swore on the cross of Christ's sacrifice and death. We too have a sacrificed God, whether we see him in the cross, or in the sheaf of barley which must die to the earth and be raised again from the dead-\"\n\nGwenhwyfar said, \"Your sacrificed Gods, Lord Merlin, were sent only that mankind might be ready when the Christ came to die for man's sins-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arthur moved his hand impatiently. \"Be quiet, all of you! The Saxons swore to peace on a symbol meaningful to them-\"\n\nBut Morgaine interrupted him. \"It was from Avalon you received the sacred sword, and to Avalon that you swore an oath to preserve and guard the Holy Mysteries! And now you would make the sword of the Mysteries into the cross of death, the gallows for the dead! When Viviane came to court, she came to demand of you that you fullfil your oaths to Avalon. Then she was struck down! Now I am come to finish that work she left undone, and to demand from you that holy sword of Excalibur which you have presumed to twist into the service of your Christ!\"\n\nGwenhwyfar said, \"A day will come when all false Gods shall vanish and all pagan symbols shall be put to the service of the one true God and his Christ.\"\n\n\"I did not speak to you, you canting fool,\" said Morgaine furiously, \"and that day will come over my corpse! You Christians have saints and martyrs-do you think Avalon will have none?\" And as she spoke she shuddered, knowing that, unaware, she had spoken through the Sight, and there was the body of a knight, draped in black with across banner over his body.... She wanted to turn, as she could not do herein this company, and throw herself into Accolon's arms.\n\n\"How you exaggerate all things, Morgaine!\" said Arthur with an uneasy laugh, and that laugh maddened her, driving away both the fear and the Sight. She drew herself up to her full height, and knew that for the first time in many years she spoke mantled in all the power and authority of a priestess of Avalon." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Hear me, Arthur of Britain!" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As the force and power of Avalon set you on the throne, so the force and power of Avalon can bring you down into ruin! Think well how you desecrate the Holy Regalia! Think never to put it to the service of your Christian God, for everything of Power carries its own curse-\"\n\n\"Enough!\" Arthur had risen from his chair, and his frown was like a storm. \"Sister or no, do not presume to give orders to the King of all Britain.\"\n\n\"I do not speak to my brother,\" she retorted, \"but to the King! Avalon set you on the throne, Arthur, Avalon gave you that sword you have misused, and in the name of Avalon I now call on you to render it back again to the Holy Regalia! If you wish to treat it only as a sword, then call your smiths to make you another!\"\n\nThere was a dreadful silence, and it seemed to her fora moment that her words were falling into the great echoing empty spaces between the worlds, that faraway in Avalon the Druids must wake, that even Raven must stir and cry out against Arthur's betrayal. But the first sound she heard was nervous laughter.\n\n\"What nonsense you are talking, Morgaine!\" It was Gwenhwyfar who spoke. \"You know Arthur cannot do that!\"\n\n\"Do not interfere, Gwenhwyfar,\" Morgaine said, with deadly menace. \"It has nothing to do with you, except that if it was you who bade Arthur break oath to Avalon, beware!\"\n\n\"Uriens,\" said Gwenhwyfar, \"will you stand idle and let your unruly wife speak so to the High King?\"\n\nUriens coughed; his voice when he spoke sounded as nervous as Gwenhwyfar's. \"Morgaine, perhaps you are being unreasonable... Arthur made a dramatic gesture for political reasons, to catch the imagination of the crowd. If he did so with a sword of power, well, so much the better. The Gods can take care of their own worship, my dear-do you think the Goddess needs your help to protect her own?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At that moment, if Morgaine had had a weapon, she would have struck Uriens down. He had come to support her, and now he deserted her this way?\n\nArthur said, \"Morgaine, since you are so troubled, let me say this for your ears alone: I intended no desecration. If the sword of Avalon also serves as across for an oath, does it not mean that Avalon's powers are joined in the service of this land? So Kevin advised me-\"\n\n\"Oh, aye, I knew him traitor when he had Viviane buried outside the Holy Isle-\" Morgaine began.\n\n\"Be it so or otherwise,\" said Arthur, \"I gave the Saxon kings the gesture they wanted, to swear on my sword!\"\n\n\"But it is not your sword!\" Morgaine retorted, at white heat. \"It is the sword of Avalon! And if you bear it not as you have sworn, then shall it be given into the hands of one who will be true to his oath-\"\n\n\"Sword of Avalon it may have been a generation ago,\" said Arthur, who was now as angry as Morgaine; he clenched his handover the hilt of Excalibur, as if someone would take it from him that very moment. \"A sword is his who uses it, and I have won the right to call it mine by driving forth all enemies from this land! I bore it in battle, and I won this land at Mount Badon-\"\n\n\"And you have tried to subject it to the service of the Christian God,\" Morgaine retorted. \"Now in the name of the Goddess I demand of you that it be returned to the shrine of the Lake!\"\n\nArthur drew along breath. Then he said in a voice of studied calm, \"I refuse. If the Goddess wants this sword returned, then she herself will have to take it from my hands.\" Then his voice softened. \"My dear sister, I beg of you, do not quarrel with me about the name by which we call our Gods. You yourself have said tome that all the Gods are the One God.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And he will never see why what he has said is wrong, Morgaine thought in despair. Yet he has called on the Goddess, if she wants his sword to come and take it. Be it so, then; Lady, may I be your hand. She bowed her head fora moment and said, \"To the Goddess, then, I leave the disposal of her sword.\" And when she has done with you, Arthur, you will wish you had chosen to deal with me instead.... And she went to sit beside Gwenhwyfar. Arthur beckoned to Gwydion.\n\n\"Sir Mordred,\" he said, \"I would have made you one of my Companions at anytime you asked it of me. I would have done so for Morgaine's sake and for my own-you needed not to force knighthood from me by a trick.\"\n\n\"I thought if you made me knight without some good excuse such as this,\" Gwydion said, \"there might be talk of a kind you did not wish. Will you forgive me the trick, then, sir?\"\n\n\"If Lancelet has forgiven you, I have no reason to bear you any grudge,\" said Arthur, \"and since he has gifted you richly, it would seem he cherishes no wrath. I wish it lay in my power to acknowledge you my son, Mordred. Until a few years ago, I knew not that you existed-Morgaine told me not what came of that kingmaking. You do know, I suppose, that to the priests and bishops, your very existence is sign of something unholy.\"\n\n\"Do you believe that, sir?\"\n\nArthur looked his son directly in the eye. \"Oh-times I believe one thing, times another, like all men. It does not matter what I believe. The facts are thus-I cannot acknowledge you before all men, though you are such a son as any man, let alone a childless king, would be glad and proud to own. Galahad must inherit my throne.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"If he lives,\" said Gwydion, and at Arthur's shocked look, added quietly, \"No, sir, I am not making a threat to his life. I will swear any oath you will, by cross or oak, by the Sacred Well or by these serpents I bear\"-he thrust out his wrists-\"which you bore before me: may the Goddess send living serpents like these to take my life if ever I raise a hand against my cousin Galahad. But I have seen it-he will die, honorably, for the cross he worships.\"\n\n\"God save us from evil!\" cried out Gwenhwyfar.\n\n\"Indeed, lady. But if he does not live to ascend your throne-my father and my king, he is a warrior and a knight, and no more than mortal, and you may live to be older than King Uriens. What then?\"\n\n\"Should Galahad die before he comes to my throne-God stand between him and harm-\" said Arthur, \"I will have no choice. Royal blood is royal blood, and yours is royal, from the Pendragon and from Avalon. Should such an evil day come, I suppose even the bishops would rather see you on the throne than leave this land to such chaos as they feared when Uther died.\"\n\nHe rose and stood with his two hands on his son's shoulders, looking into his eyes. \"Would that I could say more, my son. But done is done. I will say only that-I wish with all my heart that you had been the son of my queen.\"\n\n\"And so do I,\" said Gwenhwyfar, rising to embrace him.\n\n\"Still, I will not treat you as a baseborn churl,\" said Arthur. \"You are Morgaine's son. Mordred, Duke of Cornwall, Companion of the Round Table, you shall go to be the voice of the Round Table among the Saxon kings. You shall have the right to do the King's justice, and to collect my taxes and revenues, keeping a suitable portion to maintain such a household as the King's chancellor should have. And, if you wish it, I give you permission to marry the daughter of one of the Saxon kings, which will give you a throne of your own, even if you come never to mine.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwydion bowed and said, \"You are generous, sir.\"\n\nYes, Morgaine thought, and this would keep Gwydion well out of the way, until and unless there was need of him. Arthur was skilled at kingcraft! She raised her head and said, \"You have been so generous to my son, Arthur, may I trespass again on your kindness?\"\n\nArthur looked wary, but he said, \"Ask me something I can grant, my sister, and it will be my pleasure to give it.\"\n\n\"You have made my son Duke of Cornwall, but he knows little of Cornwall's land as yet. I have heard that Duke Marcus now claims all that country. Will you come with me to Tintagel, and investigate this matter and this claim?\"\n\nArthur's face relaxed; had he been braced for her to raise the matter of the sword Excalibur again? No, my brother, not ever again before this court; when again I stretch forth my hand for Excalibur, it will be in my own country and in the place of the Goddess.\n\n\"I have not been in Cornwall for more years than I can reckon,\" Arthur said, \"and I cannot leave Camelot until Midsummer is past. But remain herein Camelot as my guest, and then we will go together to Tintagel, and see if Duke Marcus, or any other man God ever made, will dispute the claim of Arthur and of Morgaine, Duchess of Cornwall.\" He turned to Kevin. \"And now enough of high matters-my lord Merlin, I would not command you to sing for me before my entire court, but in private within my own chambers, and in the company of my family alone, may I entreat you fora song?\"\n\n\"It will be my pleasure,\" said Kevin, \"if the lady Gwenhwyfar does not object.\" He glanced at the Queen, but she was silent, and so he set his harp to his shoulder and began to play." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Proceed with the plot in your role as storytelling partner.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 13" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwydion bowed and said, \"You are generous, sir.\"\n\nYes, Morgaine thought, and this would keep Gwydion well out of the way, until and unless there was need of him. Arthur was skilled at kingcraft! She raised her head and said, \"You have been so generous to my son, Arthur, may I trespass again on your kindness?\"\n\nArthur looked wary, but he said, \"Ask me something I can grant, my sister, and it will be my pleasure to give it.\"\n\n\"You have made my son Duke of Cornwall, but he knows little of Cornwall's land as yet. I have heard that Duke Marcus now claims all that country. Will you come with me to Tintagel, and investigate this matter and this claim?\"\n\nArthur's face relaxed; had he been braced for her to raise the matter of the sword Excalibur again? No, my brother, not ever again before this court; when again I stretch forth my hand for Excalibur, it will be in my own country and in the place of the Goddess.\n\n\"I have not been in Cornwall for more years than I can reckon,\" Arthur said, \"and I cannot leave Camelot until Midsummer is past. But remain herein Camelot as my guest, and then we will go together to Tintagel, and see if Duke Marcus, or any other man God ever made, will dispute the claim of Arthur and of Morgaine, Duchess of Cornwall.\" He turned to Kevin. \"And now enough of high matters-my lord Merlin, I would not command you to sing for me before my entire court, but in private within my own chambers, and in the company of my family alone, may I entreat you fora song?\"\n\n\"It will be my pleasure,\" said Kevin, \"if the lady Gwenhwyfar does not object.\" He glanced at the Queen, but she was silent, and so he set his harp to his shoulder and began to play." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine sat quietly beside Uriens, listening to the music. A royal gift indeed Arthur had commanded for his family, Kevin's music. Gwydion listened, his hands clasped about his knees, silent and spellbound; she thought, In that at least he is my son. Uriens listened with polite attention. Morgaine looked up fora moment, meeting Accolon's eyes, and thought; Somehow this night we must manage to meet, even if I must give Uriens a sleeping potion; there is much I must say to him... and then she cast down her eyes. She was no better than Gwenhwyfar....\n\nUriens was holding her hand, fondling her fingers and wrists; she felt him touch the bruises he had made that day, and through the pain, she felt revulsion. She must go to his bed if he desired it; herein this Christian court she was his property, like a horse or dog he could fondle or beat at his own will!\n\nArthur had betrayed both her and Avalon; Uriens had played her false as well. Kevin, too, had betrayed her....\n\nBut Accolon would not fail her. Accolon should rule for Avalon, the King Viviane had foreseen would come; and after Accolon, Gwydion, Druid King, King of Avalon and all Britain.\n\nAnd behind the King, the Queen, ruling for the Goddess as in the days of old....\n\nKevin raised his head and met her eyes, and Morgaine shivered, knowing she must conceal her thoughts. He has the Sight, and he is Arthur's man. He is the Merlin of Britain, and nevertheless he is my enemy!\n\nBut Kevin said mildly, \"Since this is a family party, and I too would wish to hear music made, may I ask as my fee that the lady Morgaine will sing?\" and Morgaine went to take his place, feeling the power of the harp in her hands." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I must charm them, she thought, so they think no harm, and set her hands to the strings.\n\nUriens said, when they were alone in their chamber, \"I knew not that your claim to Tintagel was being disputed again.\"\n\n\"The things you do not know, my husband, areas many as acorns in a pig meadow,\" she said impatiently. How had she ever thought she could suffer this fool? Kind, yes, he had never been unkind to her, but his stupidity grated on her like a rasp. She wanted to be alone, to consider her plans, to confer with Accolon, and instead she must placate this old idiot!\n\n\"I should know what you are planning.\" Uriens'voice was sullen. \"I am angry that you did not consult with me if you were displeased at what was happening in Tintagel-I am your husband and you should have told me rather than appealing to Arthur!\" The sulkiness in his voice held a hint of jealousy too, and she remembered now, stricken, that it had been brought out what she had concealed all these years-who had fathered her son. But could Uriens really think that after a quarter of a century she still held power of that sort over her brother, because of something only fools and Christians would think a sin? Well, if he has not wit enough to see what is happening before his eyes, why should I explain it to him word byword like a child's lesson?\n\nShe said, still impatient, \"Arthur is displeased with me because he thinks a woman should not contend with him this way. Therefore I asked his help, so that he will not believe I am in rebellion against him.\" She said no more. She was priestess of Avalon, she would not lie, but there was no need to speak more truth than she wished. Let Uriens think, if he would, that she only wished to makeup her quarrel with Arthur." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"How clever you are, Morgaine,\" he said, patting her wrist. She thought, flinching, that already he had forgotten that it was he who had inflicted the injury. She felt her lips trembling as if she were a child, thinking, I want Accolon, I want to lie in his arms and be cherished and comforted, but in this place how can we contrive even to meet and speak in secret? She blinked away angry tears. Strength washer only safety now; strength and concealment.\n\nUriens had gone out to relieve himself, and came back, yawning. \"I heard the watchman cry midnight,\" he said. \"We must to bed, lady.\" He began to takeoff his festal robe. \"Are you very weary, dear one?\"\n\nShe did not answer, knowing that if she did she would weep. He took her silence for consent and drew her close, nuzzling at her throat, then pulled her toward the bed. She endured him, wondering if she could remember some charm or herb to put an end to the old man's too-enduring virility-damn him, he should belong past this by his age, no one would even think it the result of sorcery. She lay wondering, afterward, why she could not simply turn to him with indifference, let him have her without even thinking, as she had done so often in these long years... what did it matter, why should she notice him anymore than astray animal sniffing round her skirts?\n\nShe slept fitfully, dreaming of a child she had found somewhere and must suckle, though her breasts were dry and ached terribly... she woke with the pain still in them. Uriens had gone to hunt with some of Arthur's men-it had been arranged days ago. She felt sick and queasy. I ate more, she thought, than I usually do in three days, no wonder I am sick. But when she went to fasten her gown, her breasts were still sore and aching. It seemed to her that the nipples, brown and small, looked pink and swollen." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She let herself collapse on the bed as if her knees had been broken. She was barren! She knew she was barren, they had told her after Gwydion's birth that she would probably never bear a child again, and in all the years since, never once from any man had she gotten with child. More than that, she was near to nine-and-forty, long past the childbearing years. But for all that, she was certainly pregnant now. She had thought herself long past the possibility. Her courses had grown irregular and were absent for months at a time, she had thought herself coming to the end of them. Her first reaction was fear; she had come so near to death when Gwydion was born....\n\nUriens would certainly be delighted at this supposed proof of his manhood. But when this child was conceived, Uriens had been ill with the lung fever; there was small likelihood, after all, that it was Uriens' child. Had it been fathered by Accolon, on the day of the eclipse? Why, then, it was child to the God as he had come to them then in the hazel grove.\n\nWhat would I do with a babe, old woman that I am? But perhaps it will be a priestess for Avalon, one to rule after me when the traitor has been tumbled from the throne where Viviane set him....\n\nIt was grey and dismal outside, drizzling rain. The games field of yesterday was trampled and muddy, with scattered banners and ribbons trodden into the mud; one or two of the subject kings were making ready to ride out, and a few kitchen women, their gowns tucked up to their bare thighs, carrying washing paddles and sacks of clothing, were trudging down toward the shores of the lake." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There was a knock at the door; the servant's voice was soft and respectful. \"Queen Morgaine, the High Queen has asked that you and the Queen of Lothian should come to break your fast with her. And the Merlin of Britain has asked that you will receive him here at noon.\"\n\n\"I will go to the Queen,\" said Morgaine. \"Tell the Merlin I will receive him.\" She shrank from both confrontations, but she dared not deny herself to either, especially now.\n\nGwenhwyfar would never be anything but her enemy. It washer doing that Arthur had fallen into the hands of the priests and betrayed Avalon. Perhaps, Morgaine thought, I am plotting the downfall of the wrong person; if I could somehow manage it that Gwenhwyfar left court, even to runaway with Lancelet to his own castle, now that he is widowed and can lawfully take her... but she dismissed that idea.\n\nProbably Arthur has asked her to makeup the quarrel with me, she thought cynically. He knows, too, that he cannot afford to quarrel with subject kings, and if Gwenhwyfar and I are at odds, Morgause, as ever, will take my part. Too strong a family quarrel, and he would lose Uriens, and Morgause's sons too. He cannot afford to lose Gawaine, Gareth, the Northmen....\n\nMorgause was in the Queen's room already; the smell of food made Morgaine sick again, but she controlled it with iron will. It was well known that she never ate much and it would not be particularly noticed. Gwenhwyfar came and kissed her, and fora moment Morgaine's real tenderness for this woman returned. Why should we be enemies? We were friends once, so long ago.... It was not Gwenhwyfar herself that she hated, it was the priests who had so much influence over her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She came to the table, accepting but not eating apiece of new bread and honey. Gwenhwyfar's ladies were the kind of pious idiots with whom Gwenhwyfar always surrounded herself. They welcomed Morgaine with curious looks and a great outward display of cordiality and pleasure.\n\n\"Your son, sir Mordred-what a fine lad he is, how proud you must be of him,\" one of them said, and Morgaine, breaking the bread and crumbling it, remarked with composure that she had hardly seen him since he was weaned. \"It is Uwaine, my husband's son, who is more truly my own son, and it is in his knightly accomplishments that I take pride,\" Morgaine said, \"for I reared him from a little child. But you are proud of Mordred as your own son, are you not, Morgause?\"\n\n\"But Uriens' son is not your own child?\" someone else asked.\n\n\"No,\" she said patiently, \"he was nine years old when I married my lord of North Wales.\"\n\nOne of the girls giggled that if she were Morgaine, she would pay more heed to that other handsome stepson of hers, Accolon was it not? Morgaine, clenching her teeth, thought, Shall I kill this fool? But no; the ladies of Gwenhwyfar's court had nothing to do but spend their time in mindless jests and gossip.\n\n\"Now tell me-\" Alais, who had been waiting-woman when Morgaine was also at Gwenhwyfar's court, and whose bride-woman Morgaine had been when the girl was married, giggled. \"Isn't he Lancelet's son, really?\"\n\nMorgaine raised her eyebrows and said, \"Who? Accolon? King Uriens' late wife would hardly thank you for that imputation, lady.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You know what I mean.\" Alais snickered. \"Lancelet was the son of Viviane, and you were raised by her-and who could blame you? Tell me the truth now, Morgaine, who was that handsome lad's father? There is no one else it could have been, is there?\"\n\nMorgause laughed and said, trying to break the tension, \"Well, we are all in love with Lancelet, of course-poor Lancelet, what a burden to bear.\"\n\n\"But you are eating nothing, Morgaine,\" said Gwenhwyfar. \"Can I send to the kitchens, if this is not to your liking? A slice of ham? Some better wine than this?\"\n\nMorgaine shook her head and put apiece of bread into her mouth. Hadn't this all happened before? Or perhaps she had dreamed it... she felt a sick dizziness before her eyes, grey spots dancing. It would indeed give them gossip to enliven many a boring day if the old Queen of North Wales swooned away like a breeding woman! Her fingernails cut into her hands and somehow she managed to make the dizziness recede a little. \"I drank too much at the feast yesterday-you have known for twenty years that I have no head for drinking wine, Gwenhwyfar.\"\n\n\"Ah, and it was good wine too,\" said Morgause, with a greedy smack of her lips, and Gwenhwyfar replied courteously that she would send a barrel of it to Lothian with Morgause when she left. But Morgaine, mercifully forgotten, the blinding headache clamping down over her brow like a torturer's band, felt Morgause's questioning eyes on hers.\n\nPregnancy was one thing that could not be hidden... no, and why should it be hidden? She was lawfully wedded; people might laugh if the old King of North Wales and his middle-aged Queen became parents at their advanced ages, but the laughter would be good-natured. Yet Morgaine felt that she would explode from the sheer force of the anger in her. She felt like one of the fire mountains of which Gawaine had told her, far in the countries to the north...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When the ladies had all gone away and she was alone with Gwenhwyfar, the Queen took her hand and said in apology, \"I am sorry, Morgaine, you do look ill. Perhaps you should return to your bed.\"\n\n\"Perhaps I shall,\" Morgaine said, thinking, Gwenhwyfar would never guess what was wrong with me; Gwenhwyfar, should this happen to her, would welcome it, even now!\n\nThe Queen reddened under Morgaine's angry stare. \"I am sorry, I didn't mean for my women to tease you like that-I should have stopped them, my dear.\"\n\n\"Do you think I care what they say? They are like sparrows chirping, and have as much sense about them,\" Morgaine said, with contempt as blinding as the pain in her head. \"But how many of your women really know who fathered my son? You made Arthur confess it-did you confide it to all your women as well?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar looked frightened. \"I do not think there are many who know-those who were there last night, when Arthur acknowledged him, certainly. And Bishop Patricius.\" She looked up at Morgaine, and Morgaine thought, blinking, How kindly the years have treated her; she grows even more lovely, and I wither like an ancient briar....\n\n\"You look so tired, Morgaine,\" said Gwenhwyfar, and it struck Morgaine that in spite of all old enmities, there was love too. \"Go and rest, dear sister.\"\n\nOr is it only that there are so few of us, now, who were young together?\n\nTHE MERLIN HAD AGED, too, and the years had not been so kind to him as to Gwenhwyfar; he was more stooped, he dragged his leg now with a walking stick, and his arms and wrists, with their great ropy muscles, looked like branches of an ancient and twisted oak. He might indeed have been one of the dwarf folk of which tales told that they dwelt beneath the mountains. Only the movements of his hands were still precise and lovely, despite the twisted and swollen fingers, his graceful gestures making her think of the old days, and her long study of the harp and of the language of gesture and hand speech." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He was blunt, waving away her offer of wine or refreshment, dropping on a seat without her leave, by old habit.\n\n\"I think you are wrong, Morgaine, to harry Arthur about Excalibur.\"\n\nShe knew her own voice sounded hard and shrewish. \"I did not expect you to approve, Kevin. No doubt you feel that whatever use he makes of the Holy Regalia is good.\"\n\n\"I cannot see that it is wrong,\" Kevin said. \"All Gods are one-as even Taliesin would have said-and if we join in the service of the One-\"\n\n\"But it is that with which I quarrel,\" Morgaine said. \"Their God would be the One-and the only-and drive out all mention of the Goddess whom we serve. Kevin, listen tome-can you not see how this narrows the world, if there is one rather than many? I think it was wrong to make the Saxons into Christians. I think those old priests who dwelt on Glastonbury had the right idea. Why should we all meet in one afterlife? Why should there not be many paths, the Saxons to follow their own, we to follow ours, the followers of the Christ to worship him if they choose, without restraining the worship of others....\"\n\nKevin shook his head. \"My dear, I do not know. There seems to be a deep change in the way men now look at the world, as if one truth should drive out another-as if whatever is not their truth, must be falsehood.\"\n\n\"But life is not as simple as that,\" Morgaine said.\n\n\"I know that, you know that, and in the fullness of time, Morgaine, even the priests will find it out.\"\n\n\"But if they have driven all other truths from the world, it will be too late,\" Morgaine said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kevin sighed. \"There is a fate that no man, and no woman, may stop, Morgaine, and I think we are facing that day.\" He reached out one of his gnarled hands and took hers; she thought she had never heard him speak so gently. \"I am not your enemy, Morgaine. I have known you since you were a maiden. And after-\" He stopped, and she saw his throat twitch as he swallowed. \"I love you well, Morgaine. I wish you nothing but well. There was a time-oh, yes, it was long ago, but I forget not how I loved you and how privileged I felt that I could speak of love to you.... No man can fight the tides, or the fates. Perhaps, if we had sent sooner to Christianize the Saxons, it would have been done by those same priests who built a chapel where they and Taliesin could worship side by side. Our own bigotry prevented that, so it was left to fanatics like Patricius, who in their pride seethe Creator only as the avenging Father of soldiers, not also as the loving Mother of the fields and the earth.... I tell you, Morgaine, they area tide that will sweep all men before them like straw.\"\n\n\"Done is done,\" Morgaine said. \"But what is the answer?\"\n\nKevin bent his head and it struck Morgaine that what he really wanted was to lay that head down on her breast; not now as a man to a woman, but as if she were the Mother Goddess who could quiet his fear and despair.\n\n\"Maybe,\" he said, his voice stifled, \"maybe there is no answer at all. It maybe that there is no God and no Goddess and we are quarrelling over foolish words. I will not quarrel with you, Morgaine of Avalon. But neither will I sit idle and let you plunge this kingdom again into war and chaos, wreck this peace that Arthur has given us. Some knowledge and some song and some beauty must be kept for those days before the world again plunges into darkness. I tell you, Morgaine, I have seen the darkness closing. Perhaps, in Avalon, we may keep the secret wisdom-but the time is past when we can spread it again into the world. Do you think I am afraid to die so that something of Avalon may survive among mankind?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Morgaine-slowly, compelled-putout her hand to touch his face, to wipe away tears; but she jerked her hand back in sudden dread." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her eyes blurred-she had laid her hand on a weeping skull, and it seemed her own hand was the thin, winter-blighted hand of the Death-crone. He saw it too, and stared at her, appalled, fora single terrified moment. Then it was gone again, and Morgaine heard her voice harden.\n\n\"So you would bring the holy things into the world, that the holy sword of Avalon maybe the avenging sword of Christ?\"\n\n\"It is the sword of the Gods,\" Kevin said, \"and all the Gods are one. I would rather have Excalibur in the world where men may follow it, than hidden away in Avalon. So long as they follow it, what difference does it make which Gods they call on in doing so?\"\n\nMorgaine said, steadily, \"It is that I will die to prevent. Beware, Merlin of Britain: you have made the Great Marriage and pledged yourself to die for the preservation of the Mysteries. Beware, lest obeying that oath be claimed of you!\"\n\nHis beautiful eyes looked straight into hers. \"Ah, my lady and my Goddess, I beg you, take counsel of Avalon before you act! Indeed, I think the time has come for you to return to Avalon.\" Kevin laid his handover hers. She did not draw if away.\n\nHer voice caught and broke with the tears that had laid heavy on her all this day. \"I-I wish I might return-it is because I long so much for it that I dare not go thither,\" she said. \"I shall go there never, until I may leave it nevermore-\"\n\n\"You will return, for I have seen it,\" said Kevin wearily. \"But not I. I know not how, Morgaine, my love, but it comes tome that never again shall I drink of the Holy Well.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "She looked at the ugly misshapen body, the fine hands, the beautiful eyes, and thought, Once I loved this man." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Despite all, she loved him still, she would love him till both of them were dead; she had known him since the beginning of time, and together they had served their Goddess. Time slid away and it seemed that they stood outside time, that she gave him life, that she cut him down as a tree, that he sprang up again in the corn, that he died at her will and she was taken in his arms and brought back to life... the ancient priest-drama played out before Druid or Christian set foot upon the earth.\n\nAnd he would cast this away?\n\n\"If Arthur shall forswear his oath, shall I not require it at his hands?\"\n\nKevin said, \"One day the Goddess will deal with him in her own way. But Arthur is King of Britain by the will of the Goddess. Morgaine of Avalon, I tell you, beware! Dare you set your face against the fates that rule this land?\"\n\n\"I do what the Goddess has given me to do!\"\n\n\"The Goddess-or your own will and pride and ambition for those you love? Morgaine, again I say to you, beware. For it may well be that the day of Avalon is past, and your day with it.\"\n\nThen the fierce control she had clamped upon herself broke. \"And you dare call yourself the Merlin of Britain?\" she shrieked at him. \"Begone, you damned traitor!\" She picked up her distaff and flung it at his head. \"Go! Out from my sight and damn you forever! Go from here!\"\n\nTen days later, King Arthur, with his sister, Queen Morgaine, and her husband, Uriens of Wales, set forth to ride to Tintagel.\n\nMorgaine had had time to decide what she must do and had found a moment to speak alone with Accolon the day before. \"Await me on the shores of the Lake-be certain that neither Arthur nor Uriens sees you.\" She reached her hand to him in farewell, but he caught her close and kissed her again and again." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Lady-I cannot bear to let you go into danger this way!\"\n\nFora moment she leaned against him. She was so weary, so weary, of being always strong, of making certain that all things went as they must! But he must never suspect her weakness! \"There is no help for it, my beloved. Otherwise there would be no answer but death. You cannot come to the throne with the blood of your father on your hands. And when you sit on Arthur's throne-with the power of Avalon behind you and Excalibur in your hand-then you can send Uriens back to his own land, thereto rule as long as God wills.\"\n\n\"And Arthur?\"\n\n\"I mean Arthur no harm, either,\" said Morgaine steadily. \"I would not have him killed. But he shall dwell for three nights and three days in the land of Fairy, and when he returns, five years or more will have passed, and Arthur and his throne will be a tale remembered by the older men, and the danger of a priest rule long past.\"\n\n\"But if he somehow finds his way out-\"\n\nMorgaine's voice had trembled. \"What of the King Stag when the young stag is grown? It must be with Arthur as the fates decree. And you will have his sword.\"\n\nTreachery, she thought, and her heart pounded as they rode through the dismal grey morning. Thin fog was rising from the Lake. I love Arthur. I would not betray him, but he first betrayed the oath he swore to Avalon.\n\nShe still felt queasy, the motion of the horse making it worse. She could not remember that she had been sick as this when she carried Gwydion-Mordred, she reminded herself. Yet it might be, when he came to the throne, that he would choose to rule in his own name, the name that had been Arthur's and bore no taint of Christian rule. And when Kevin saw the thing already accomplished, no doubt he too would choose to support the new King of Avalon." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The fog was thickening, making Morgaine's plan even simpler to follow." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She shivered, pulling her cloak tight around her. It must be done now, or, as they skirted the Lake, they would turn southward to Cornwall. The fog was so thick already that she could hardly make out the forms of the three men-at-arms who rode ahead of them; twisting in her saddle, she saw that the three men behind were almost equally dim. But the ground fora little way before and behind them was clear, though overhead the fog was like a thick white curtain with no hint of sun or daylight.\n\nShe stretched out her hands, raising herself high in her saddle, whispering the words of the spell she had never dared use before. She felt a moment of pure terror-she knew it was only the coldness that came from power draining out of her body-and Uriens, shivering, raised his head and said peevishly, \"Such fog as this I have never seen-we will surely be lost and have to spend the night on the shores of the Lake! Perhaps we should seek shelter at the abbey in Glastonbury-\"\n\n\"We are not lost,\" said Morgaine, the fog so thick that she could barely seethe ground under her horse's hooves. Oh, as a maiden in Avalon I was so proud that I spoke only truth! Is it queencraft, then, to lie, that I may serve the Goddess? \"I know every step of the way we are going-we can shelter this night in a place I know near the shores, and ride on in the morning.\"\n\n\"We cannot have come so far as that,\" said Arthur, \"for I heard the bells in Glastonbury ring the Angelus-\"\n\n\"Sounds carry along way in the fog,\" Morgaine said, \"and in fog such as this they carry further still. Trust me, Arthur.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "He smiled lovingly at her." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I have always trusted you, dear sister.\"\n\nOh, yes; he had always trusted her, since that day when Igraine had placed him in Morgaine's arms. At first she had hated the squalling thing, and then she had come to know that Igraine had abandoned and betrayed them both, and she must care for him, and had wiped away his tears... impatient, Morgaine hardened her heart. That had been a lifetime ago. Since then Arthur had made the Great Marriage with the land and had betrayed it, giving the land he had sworn to protect into the hands of priests who would drive out the very Gods that fed the land and made it fertile. Avalon had set him on his throne, through her hand as priestess, and now... Avalon, through her hand, would bring him down.\n\nI will not hurt him, Mother... yes, I will take from him the sword of the Holy Regalia and give it into the hands of one who will bear it for the Goddess, but I will never lay hand on him....\n\nBut what of the King Stag when the young stag is grown?\n\nThat was the way of nature and could not be amended for the sake of her sentiment. Arthur would meet his fate unprotected by the spells he bore, by the scabbard she herself had made for him after she had gone to him in the Great Marriage, when she bore, still not knowing it, his child within her body. She had often heard his knights speak of his charmed life, of how he could take the worst of wounds and not lose blood enough to kill. She would not lay a hand upon her mother's son and the father of her child. But the spell she had put upon him in the aftermath of her lost virginity, that she might withdraw from him, and then it must be with him as the Goddess willed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The magical fog had thickened so much around them that Morgaine could hardly see Uriens' horse. His face, angry and sullen, swam out of the mist. \"Are you sure you know where you are leading us, Morgaine? I have never been here before, I would swear to it, I know not the curve of that hill...\"\n\n\"I vow to you, I know every step of the way, fog or no fog.\" At her feet Morgaine could seethe curious little cluster of bushes unchanged from that day when she sought entry into Avalon, that day when she had feared to summon the boat... Goddess, she prayed to herself, not even a whisper, grant that the church bells ring not while I seek to enter, lest it vanish back into the fog and we find never our way into that country....\n\n\"This way,\" she said, picking up her reins and digging her heels into her horse. \"Follow me, Arthur.\"\n\nShe rode swiftly into the fog, knowing they could not follow her so fast in this absence of light. Behind her she heard Uriens cursing, his voice cross and muffled, heard Arthur speak reassuringly to his horse. Suddenly an image flashed into Morgaine's mind, of the skeleton of a horse bearing her own riding gear... well, it must be as it must be. The fog had begun to thin, and suddenly they were riding in full daylight through the dappled trees. Clear green light spilled down, though they could see no sun, and she heard Arthur's cry of surprise.\n\nOut of the forest came two men who cried out in their clear voices, \"Arthur, my lord! It is a pleasure to welcome you here!\"\n\nArthur drew up his horse swiftly, lest he trample the men. \"Who are you, and how do you know my name?\" he demanded. \"And what is this place?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Why, my lord, this is the Castle Chariot, and our queen has long desired to receive you as her guest!\"\n\nArthur looked confused. \"I did not know there was a castle in these parts. We must have ridden further than we thought in the fog.\" Uriens looked suspicious, but Morgaine could seethe familiar spell of the fairylands falling over Arthur, so that it never occurred to him to question; as in a dream, whatever happened simply happened, and there was no need to question. But she must keep her wits about her....\n\n\"Queen Morgaine,\" said one of the men, the dark beautiful people who seemed like ancestors or dream versions of the little dark people of Avalon, \"our queen awaits and will gladly receive you. And you, my lord Arthur, you shall betaken to feast with us....\"\n\n\"After all this riding in fog, a feast will be welcome,\" said Arthur good-naturedly, and let the man lead his horse into the woods. \"Do you know the queen of these lands, Morgaine?\"\n\n\"I have known her since I was a young girl.\"\n\nAnd she mocked me... and offered to rear my babe in the fairy world....\n\n\"It is surprising that she came never to Camelot to offer allegiance,\" Arthur said, frowning. \"I cannot remember, but it seems tome that I heard something of the Castle Chariot along, longtime ago... but I cannot quite remember,\" he said, dismissing it. \"Well, in any case these people seem to be friendly. Give my compliments to the queen, Morgaine, and no doubt I shall see her at this feast.\"\n\n\"No doubt,\" Morgaine said, and watched the men lead him away.\n\nI must keep my wits about me; I will use the beat of my heart to count the time, I will not lose track, or I shall be carried away and entangled in my own spells... she braced herself to meet with the queen." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Unchanged she was, always the same, the tall woman who, nevertheless, had something of the look of Viviane about her, as if she and Morgaine were blood kin." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And she embraced and kissed her as such.\n\n\"What brings you of your freewill to our shores, Morgaine of the Fairies?\" she asked. \"Your knight is here, one of my ladies found him...\" and she gestured, and Accolon was there. \"They found him wandering along the reeds of the Lake, not knowing his way in the fog....\"\n\nAccolon gripped Morgaine's hand; she felt it solid and real in hers... yet she knew not even now whether they were within or out-of-doors, whether the glass throne of the queen was within a magnificent grove or within a great vaulted hall, more magnificent than the hall of the Round Table at Camelot.\n\nAccolon knelt before the throne, and the queen pressed her hands on his head. She raised one of his wrists and the serpents seemed to move and twine round his arms, crawled away and sat therein the queen's palm where she sat absently playing with them, petting their small blue darting heads. \"Morgaine, you have chosen well,\" she said. \"I think not that this one would ever betray me. Look, Arthur has feasted well, and there he lies-\" and she gestured to where a wall seemed to open wide, and by pale light Morgaine saw Arthur, sleeping with one arm under his head and the other across the body of a young girl with long, dark hair, who seemed like a daughter of the queen-or like Morgaine herself.\n\n\"He will, of course, think that it was you, and that it is a dream sent him by the evil one,\" said the queen, smiling, \"so far he has moved from us that he will think shame to be given his dearest wish... did you not know that, my Morgaine, my darling?\" And it seemed to Morgaine that she heard Viviane's voice, dreamlike, caressing her. But it was the queen who said, \"So sleeps the King, in the arms of one he will love until he dies... and what when he wakes? Will you take Excalibur and cast him out naked on the shores, seeking you always in the mists?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine remembered suddenly the skeleton of a horse lying beneath the fairy trees.... \"Not that,\" she said, shivering.\n\n\"Then he shall remain here, but if he is truly as pious as you say and thinks to say the prayers which will part him from illusion, it will vanish, and he will call out for his horse and for his sword-what then shall we do, lady?\"\n\nAccolon said grimly, \"I will have the sword, and if he can get it again from me, he is welcome to it.\"\n\nThe dark-haired maiden came to them, and in her hand she held Excalibur in its scabbard. \"I had it from him while he slept,\" she said, \"and with it he called me by your name-\"\n\nMorgaine touched the jewelled hilt of the blade.\n\n\"Bethink you, child,\" said the queen, \"would it not be better to return the Holy Regalia at once to Avalon, and let Accolon make his way as King with only such a sword as he can get for himself?\"\n\nMorgaine trembled. It seemed very dark in the hall, or grove, or whatever it was, and did Arthur lie sleeping at her feet, or was he faraway? But it was Accolon who reached out and grasped the sword.\n\n\"I will have Excalibur and the scabbard,\" he said, and Morgaine knelt at his feet and belted it round his waist.\n\n\"Be it so, beloved-bear it more faithfully than he for whom I made this scabbard-\"\n\n\"The Goddess forbid I should ever be false to you, though I die for it,\" he whispered, his voice shaking with emotion, and raised Morgaine to her feet and kissed her; it seemed that they clung together till the shadow of the night faded and the queen's sweet mocking smile seemed to shimmer around them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"When Arthur calls fora sword he shall have one... and something like to the scabbard, though it will not keep him from spilling a single drop of blood.... Give it to my smiths,\" she said to the maiden, and Morgaine stared as if in a dream-had it been in a dream that she had belted Excalibur round Accolon's waist? The queen was gone and the damsel, and it seemed that she and Accolon lay alone in a great grove and that it was the time of the Beltane fires, and he took her into his arms, priest to priestess. And then they were no more than man and woman, and it seemed to her that time stopped, that her body melted into his as if she were without nerve or bone or will, and his kiss was like fire and ice on her lips.... The King Stag should challenge him, and I must make him ready....\n\nWhy, how was it that she lay with him in the grove, signs painted on her naked body, how was it that her body was young and tender, how was it that when he bore his body down into hers there was tearing pain as if he took again the maidenhead she had laid down to the Horned One half a lifetime gone, so that she came maiden to him, as if all her life had never been? Why did it seem that there was a shadow of the antlers over his brow? Who was this man in her arms, and what had time been between them? He lay heavy across her, spent, the sweetness of his breath like honey to her love; she caressed him and kissed him, and as he moved a little away from her, she hardly knew who he was, whether the hair that brushed her face was shining with gold or dark, and it seemed that the little snakes crawled gently down her breasts, which were pink and tender and almost childish, half-formed. The tiny blue serpents twined around her nipples and she felt a thrill of exquisite pain and pleasure at the touch." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And then she knew that if, indeed, she wished it, time would return, and twist upon itself, and she could go forth from the cave on that morning with Arthur, and use her power to bind him to her forever, and none of it would ever have been....\n\nAnd then she heard Arthur calling out for his sword, and crying out against these enchantments. Very faraway and small, as if she were seeing him from midair, she watched him waken and she knew that their destiny, past and future, was in his hands. If he could face what had been between them, if he called her name and begged her to come to him, if he could admit to himself that it was only she that he had loved all these years and that none other had ever come between them...\n\nThen should Lancelet have Gwenhwyfar and then should I be queen in Avalon... but queen with a child fora consort, and he would fall in his turn to the King Stag....\n\nThis time Arthur would not turn from her in horror at what they had done, she would not thrust him away with childish tears... it seemed fora moment that all the world waited, echoing, for what Arthur would say....\n\nHe spoke and it seemed to ringlike the knell of doom through all the world of Fairy, as if the very fabric of time trembled and the weight of years fell.\n\n\"Jesus and Mary defend me from all evil,\" he said. \"This is some wicked enchantment, wrought by my sister and her witchcraft!\" He shuddered, and called out, \"Bring me my sword!\"\n\nMorgaine felt it like a tearing pain in her heart. She reached out to Accolon, and again it seemed that there was the shadow of antlers above his brow, and once again Excalibur was belted about his waist-had it always been there?-and the serpents that had twined about her naked body were only fading blue stains about the man's wrists." }, { "from": "human", "value": "She said steadily, \"Look, they are bringing him a sword which is like to Excalibur-the fairy smiths have made it this night." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Let him go, if you can. But if you cannot-well, do what you must do, beloved. And the Goddess be with you. I will await you in Camelot when you come thither in triumph.\" And she kissed him and sent him from her.\n\nNever till this moment had she faced it fully: one of them must die, brother or lover, the child she had held in her arms, the Horned One who had been lover and priest and king-\n\nWhatever comes of this day, she thought, never again, never again shall I know a moment's happiness, since one of those I love must die....\n\nArthur and Accolon had gone where she could not follow; there was still Uriens to be considered, and fora moment she considered abandoning him to the fairy realm. He would wander contentedly in the enchanted halls and woods till he died... no. There has been enough death, whatever happens, Morgaine thought, and turned her thoughts to watch Uriens, where he lay dreaming. Now he sat up as she approached him, looking happily drunken and befuddled. \"The wine here is too strong for me,\" he said. \"Where have you been, my dear, and where is Arthur?\"\n\nEven now, she thought, the fairy maiden has brought Arthur the sword so like Excalibur that in enchantment he will believe it so... ah, Goddess, I should have sent the sword back to Avalon, why must anyone else die for it? But without Excalibur, there was noway Accolon could reign as the new King from Avalon.... When I am Queen, this land shall beat peace, and the minds of men free, with no priests to tell them what they must do and believe....\n\n\"Arthur has had to goon ahead of us,\" she said gently. \"Come, my dear husband, we must return to Camelot.\" Such was the enchantment of the fairy country, she realized, that he never questioned this. Horses were brought to them, and the tall, beautiful people escorted them to a place where one of them said, \"You can surely find your way from here.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"How quickly the sunlight has gone,\" Uriens complained, as a grey fog and rain seemed to condense suddenly and fall about them. \"Morgaine, how long were we in the queen's country? I feel as if I had been sick of a fever, or enchanted and wandering in a spell....\"\n\nShe did not answer him. He too, she thought, had had some sport with the fairy maidens, and why not? She cared not how he amused himself, so that he let her alone.\n\nA sharp twinge of sickness reminded her that never once in the fairy country had she thought of the pregnancy which burdened her, and now, when all would be awaiting her word, when Gwydion took the throne and Accolon reigned... now she would be heavy of foot and sick, grotesque... certainly she was too old to bear a child without risk. Was it too late to find the herbs that would rid her of that unwanted burden? Yet, if she could bear Accolon a son, at this time when the reign went into his hands, how much more would he value her as his queen? Could she sacrifice that holdover him? A child I could keep, a child I could hold in my own arms, a babe to love...\n\nShe could still remember the sweetness of Arthur as a babe, his little arms around her neck. Gwydion had been taken from her, Uwaine had been nine years old when he learned to call her mother. It was a sharp pain and a sweetness beyond love, tugging at her body, the hunger to hold a child again... yet reason told her that she could not, at her age, survive the bearing of another child. She rode at Uriens' side as if in a dream. No, she could not survive the bearing of this child, and yet she felt she could not bear to take the irrevocable step that it should die unborn." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My hands will already be stained with the blood of one I love.... Ah, Goddess, why do you try me thus? And it seemed that the Goddess wavered before her eyes, now like the fairy queen, now like Raven, solemn and compassionate, now like the Great Sow who had torn out Avalloch's life... and she will devour the child I bear.... Morgaine knew that she was at the edges of delirium, of madness.\n\nLater, I will decide it later. Now my duty is to get Uriens back to Camelot. She wondered how long she had been in the fairy world. Not, she supposed, more than a moon, or the child would make its presence more felt... she hoped it had been only a few days. Not too few or Gwenhwyfar would wonder how they had come and gone so swiftly; not too many, or it would be too late to do what she knew she must do: she could not bear this child and live.\n\nThey arrived in Camelot at midmorning; the journey was, in truth, not very long. Morgaine was grateful that Gwenhwyfar was nowhere to be seen, and when Cai asked after Arthur, she told him, lying this time without a moment's hesitation, that he had been delayed in Tintagel. If I can kill, lying is no sin so great, she thought, distracted, but somehow she felt contaminated by the lie, she was priestess of Avalon and she valued the truth of her words....\n\nShe took Uriens to his room; the old man was looking weary now and confused. He is growing too old to reign. Avalloch's death was harder for him than I can know. But he too was reared to the truths of Avalon-what of the King Stag when the young stag is grown?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Lie down here, my husband, and rest,\" she said, but he was fractious.\n\n\"I should set out for Wales. Accolon is too young to reign alone, the young puppy. My people need me!\"\n\n\"They can spare you another day,\" she soothed him, \"and you will be stronger.\"\n\n\"I have been too long away already,\" he fretted. \"And why did we not goon to Tintagel? Morgaine, I cannot remember why we came away! Were we truly in a country where the sun shone always...?\"\n\nShe said, \"I think you must have dreamed it. Why do you not sleep a little? Shall I send for some food for you? I do not think you have eaten this morning-\"\n\nBut when the food came, the sight and smell of it turned her queasy again. She turned sharply away, trying to conceal it, but Uriens had seen.\n\n\"What is it, Morgaine?\"\n\n\"Nothing,\" she said angrily. \"Eat, and rest.\"\n\nBut he smiled at her, reaching out his hand to draw her to the bedside. He said, \"You forget, I have been married before this-I know a breeding woman when I see one.\" Clearly, he was delighted. \"After all these many years-Morgaine, you are pregnant! But that is wonderful-one son is taken from me, but I have another-shall we call this one Avalloch if it is a son, my darling?\"\n\nMorgaine flinched. \"You forget how old I am,\" she said, and her face was like stone. \"It is not likely I can carry this child long enough that it would live. Do not hope fora son of your old age.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But we will take good care of you,\" said Uriens. \"You must consult with one of the Queen's own midwives, and if the ride home would make you likely to miscarry, then you must stay here till the child is born.\"\n\nShe wanted to lash out at him, what makes you think it would be your child, old man? This was Accolon's child, certainly... but she could not dismiss the sudden fear that this was, indeed, Uriens\" child... an old man's child, weakly, some monster like Kevin... no, she was surely mad! Kevin was no monster, but had suffered injuries-fire, burns, maiming in childhood, so that his bones had grown awry. But Uriens\" child would surely be twisted, deformed, sickly, and Accolon's child would be healthy, strong... and she, she was old almost past childbearing; would her child be some monster? Sometimes, when women bore babies in their old age, it was so.... Was she mad, to let these fantasies turn and sicken her brain like this?\n\nNo. She did not want to die, and there was no hope she could bear this child and live. Somehow she must come by the herbs... but how? She had no confidante at court; none of Gwenhwyfar's women could she trust enough to get her these things, and if it somehow became court gossip that old Queen Morgaine was pregnant by her still-older husband, how they would laugh!\n\nThere was Kevin, the Merlin-but she herself had turned him away, flung his love and loyalty back in his face... well, there must be midwives at court, and perhaps she could bribe one of them well enough to stop her mouth. She would tell some pitiful tale of how hard Gwydion's birth had been, how she feared at her age to bear another. They were women, they would understand that well enough. And in her own bag of herbs she had one or two things-mixed with a third, harmless in itself, they would have the effect she wanted. She would not be the first woman, even at court, to rid herself of an unwanted child. But she must do it secretly, or Uriens would never forgive her... in the name of the Goddess, what did it matter? By the time it could come to light, she would be Queen here at Arthur's-no, at Accolon's-side and Uriens would be in Wales, or dead, or in hell-She left Uriens sleeping and tiptoed from the room; she found one of the Queen's midwives, asked her for the third, and harmless, herb, and returning to her room, mixed the potion over her fire. She knew it would make her deathly ill, but there was no help for it. The herb mixture was bitter as gall; she drank it down, grimacing, washed the cup, and put it away. If only she could know what was happening in the fairy country! If only she could know how her lover fared with Excalibur.... She felt nauseated, but she was too restless to lie down on her bed beside Uriens; she could not bear to be alone with the sleeping man nor could she bear to close her eyes for fear of the pictures of death and blood that would torment her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "After a time she took her distaff and spindle and went down into the Queen's hall, where she knew the women-Queen Gwenhwyfar and her ladies, even Morgause of Lothian-would beat their eternal spinning and weaving." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She had never lost her distaste for spinning, but she would keep her wits about her, and it was better than being alone. And if it opened her to the Sight, well, at least she would be free of the torment of not knowing what befell the two she loved on the borders of the fairy country....\n\nGwenhwyfar welcomed her with a chilly embrace and invited her to a seat near the fire and Gwenhwyfar's own chair.\n\n\"What are you working at?\" Morgaine asked, examining Gwenhwyfar's fine tapestry work.\n\nThe Queen proudly spread it out before her. \"It is a hanging for the altar of the church-see, here is the Virgin Mary, with the angel come to tell her she will bear the son of God... and there stands Joseph all in amazement-see, I have made him old, old with along beard-\"\n\n\"If I were old as Joseph, and my promised wife told me, after being closeted with such a handsome young man as yonder angel, that she were with child, I would ask myself some questions about the angel,\" Morgause said irreverently. For the first time Morgaine wondered how miraculous had that virgin birth been after all? Who knew but the mother of Jesus had been ready to conceal her pregnancy with a clever tale of angels... but after all, in all religions but that one, fora maiden to be pregnant by a God was nothing so strange....\n\nI myself, she thought, at the edge of hysteria, taking a handful of carded wool and beginning to twirl the spindle, I myself gave up my maidenhood to the Homed One and bore a son to the King Stag... will Gwydion set me on a throne in Heaven as Mother of God?\n\n\"You are so irreverent, Morgause,\" Gwenhwyfar complained, and Morgaine quickly complimented Gwenhwyfar on the fineness of her stitches and asked who had drawn the pattern for the picture." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I drew it myself,\" said Gwenhwyfar, surprising Morgaine; she had never believed Gwenhwyfar had talents of this sort. \"Father Patricius has promised, too, that he will teach me to copy letters in gold and crimson,\" the Queen said. \"He says I have a good hand at it fora woman.... I never thought I could do so, Morgaine, and yet you made that fine scabbard Arthur wears-he told me that you broidered it for him with your own hands. It is very beautiful.\" Gwenhwyfar chattered on, as artlessly as a girl half her age. \"I have offered to make him one, many times-I was offended that a Christian king should bear the symbols of heathendom, but he said it was made for him by his own dear, beloved sister and he would never lay it aside. And indeed it is beautiful work... did you have gold threads made for it in Avalon?\"\n\n\"Our smiths do beautiful work,\" said Morgaine, \"and their work in silver and gold cannot be bettered.\" The spindle's twirling made her sick. How long would it be before the wrenching sickness of the drug would seize on her? The room was close and seemed to smell of the stuffy, airless lives these women led, spinning and weaving and sewing, endless work so that men might be clothed... one of Gwenhwyfar's ladies was heavily pregnant and sat sewing on infant's swaddling cloths... another stitched an embroidered border to a heavy cloak for father or brother or husband or son... and there was Gwenhwyfar's fine stitchery for the altar, the diversion of a queen who could have other women to sew and spin and weave for her.\n\nRound and round went the spindle; the reel sank toward the floor and she twisted the thread smoothly. When had she learned to do this work?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She could not even remember a time when she could not spin a smooth thread... one of her earliest memories was of sitting on the castle wall at Tintagel, beside Morgause, spinning; and even then, her thread had been more even than her aunt's, who was ten years her senior.\n\nShe said so to Morgause, and the older woman laughed. \"You spun finer thread than I when you were seven years old!\"\n\nRound and round went the spindle, sinking slowly toward the stone floor; then she wound the thread upon her distaff and meanwhile twisted afresh handful of wool.... As she spun out the thread, so she spun the lives of men-was it any wonder that one of the visions of the Goddess was a woman spinning... from the time a man comes into the world we spin his baby clothes, till we at last spin a shroud. Without us, the lives of men would be naked indeed....\n\n... It seemed to her that, as in the kingdom of Fairy, she had looked through a great opening and seen Arthur asleep at the side of a maiden with her own face, so now a great space opened out, as if it were before her; and as the reel sank to the floor and the thread twisted, it seemed to spin out Arthur's face as he wandered, sword in hand... and now he whirled, to see Accolon, bearing Excalibur... ah, they were fighting, she could not see their faces now, nor hear the words they flung atone another....\n\nHow fiercely they fought, and it seemed strange to Morgaine, watching dizzied as the spindle sank, twirled, rose, that she could not hear the clashing of the great swords... Arthur brought down a great blow that would surely have killed Accolon had it struck him fair, but Accolon caught the blow on his shield and only took a wound in the leg-and the wound sliced without blood, while Arthur, taking a glancing blow on the shoulder, began suddenly to bleed, crimson streaks flowing down his arm, and he looked startled, afraid, one hand going in a swift gesture of reassurance to his side where the scabbard hung... but it was the sham scabbard, wavering even now in Morgaine's sight. Now the two were mortally locked together, struggling, their swords locked at the hilt as they grappled with their free hands for the advantage... Accolon twisted fiercely, and the sword in Arthur's hand, the false Excalibur made by fairy enchantments in a single night, broke off close below the hilt-she saw Arthur twist round in desperate avoidance of the killing blow and kick out violently. Accolon crumpled up in agony, and Arthur snatched the real Excalibur from his hand and flung it as faraway as he could, then leaped on the fallen man and wrenched at the scabbard. As soon as he had it in his hand, the flow of blood from the great wound in his arm ceased to bleed, and in turn blood gushed forth from the wound in Accolon's thigh...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Excruciating pain stabbed through Morgaine's whole body; she doubled up with the weight of it....\n\n\"Morgaine!\" said Morgause sharply, with a catch of breath; then called out, \"Queen Morgaine is ill-come tend to her!\"\n\n\"Morgaine!\" Gwenhwyfar cried out. \"What is it?\"\n\nThe vision was gone. However she tried, she could not seethe two men, nor which had prevailed, whether one of them lay dead-it was as if a great dark curtain had closed over them, with the ringing of church bells-in the last instant of the vision she had seen two litters carrying the wounded men into the abbey at Glastonbury, where she could not follow.... She clung to the edges of her chair as Gwenhwyfar came, with one of her ladies, who knelt to raise Morgaine's head.\n\n\"Ah, look, your gown is soaked with blood-this is not any ordinary bleeding.\"\n\nMorgaine, her mouth dry with the sickness, whispered, \"No-I was with child and I am miscarrying-Uriens will be angry with me-\"\n\nOne of the women, a plump jolly one about her own age, said, \"Tsk! Tsk! For shame! So His Lordship of Wales will be angry, will he? Well, well, well, and who chose him for God? You should have kept the old billy goat out of your bed, lady, it is dangerous fora woman to miscarry at your age! Shame on the old lecher to put you so at risk! So he will be angry, will he?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar, her hostility forgotten, walked beside Morgaine as they carried her, rubbing her hands, all sympathy." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh, poor Morgaine, what a sad thing, when you had hoped allover again. I know all too well how terrible it must be for you, my poor sister...\" she repeated, holding Morgaine's cold hands, cradling her shaking head when she vomited in the ghastly sickness that overcame her. \"I have sent for Broca, she is the most skilled of the court midwives, she will look after you, poor dear....\"\n\nIt seemed that Gwenhwyfar's sympathy would choke her. Racked by repeated, agonizing pains, she felt as if a sword had thrust through her vitals, but even so, even so, it was not so bad as Gwydion's birth had been, and she had lived through that... shaking, retching, she tried to cling to consciousness, to be aware of what was going on around her. Maybe she had been ready to miscarry anyhow-it was surely too quick for the drug to have worked. Broca came, examined her, smelled at the vomited stuff, and raised her eyebrows knowingly. She said in an undertone to Morgaine, \"Lady, you should have taken more care-those drugs can poison you. I have a brew which would have done what you wanted more quickly and with less sickness. Don't worry, I won't speak to Uriens-if he has no more sense than to let a woman of your years try to bear him a child, then what he does not know will do him no harm.\"\n\nMorgaine let the sickness take her. She knew, after a time, that she was more gravely ill than they had thought... Gwenhwyfar was asking if at last she wanted to see a priest; she shook her head and closed her eyes, lying silent and rebellious, not caring now whether she lived or died. Since Accolon or Arthur must die, she too would go into that shadow... why could she not see them, where they lay within Glastonbury, which of them would come forth? Surely the priests would tend Arthur, their own Christian king, but would they leave Accolon to die?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "If Accolon must go into the shades, let him go with the spirit of his son to attend him, she thought, and lay with tears sliding down her face, hearing in some distant place the voice of the old midwife Broca." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yes, it's over. I am sorry, Your Majesty, but you know as well as I that she is too old to bear children. Yes, my lord, come and see-\" The voice was harsh with asperity. \"Men never think of what they do, and all the bloody mess women have for men's pleasure! No, it was all too soon to tell whether it would have been a boy or not, but she had had one fine son, I doubt not she would have borne you another, had shebeen strong enough and young enough to carry it!\"\n\n\"Morgaine-dearest, look at me,\" Uriens pleaded. \"I am so sorry, so sorry you are ill, but don't grieve, my darling, I still have two sons, I don't blame you-\"\n\n\"Oh, you don't, do you?\" said the old midwife, still truculent. \"You had better not speak one word of blame to her, Your Majesty, she is still very weak and sick. We will have another bed put inhere so that she may sleep in peace till she is quite well again. Here-\" and Morgaine felt a comforting woman's arm under her head; something warm and comforting held to her lips. \"Come, dear, drink this now, it has honey in it, and medicines to keep you from bleeding anymore-I know you are sick, but try to drink it anyhow, there's a good girl-\"\n\nMorgaine swallowed the bittersweet drink, tears blurring her vision. Fora moment it seemed that she was a child, that Igraine held her and comforted her in some childish sickness. \"Mother-\" she said, and even as she spoke knew it was delirium, that Igraine had been dead for half a lifetime, that she was no child or maiden, but old, old, too old to lie herein this ugly way and so near death...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No, Your Majesty, she doesn't know what she's saying-there, there, dear, you just lie still and try to sleep, we've got hot bricks on your feet and you'll be warm in a minute-\"\n\nSoothed, Morgaine floated away into dream. Now it seemed to her that she was a child again in Avalon, in the House of Maidens, and that Viviane was speaking to her, telling her something she could not quite remember, something of how the Goddess spun the lives of men, and she handed Morgaine a spindle and bade her spin, but the thread would not come smooth, but tangled and knotted and at last Viviane, angry with her, said, \"Here, give it tome...\" and she handed over the broken threads and the spindle; only it was not Viviane, either, but the face of the Goddess, threatening, and she was very small, very small... spinning and spinning with fingers too small to hold the distaff, and the Goddess bore the face of Igraine....\n\nShe came to awareness a day or two later, cool-headed, but with avast and empty ache in her body. She laid her hands over the soreness, and thought, grimly, / might have saved myself some pain; I should have known that I was ready to miscarry anyway. Well, done is done, and now I must ready myself to hear that Arthur is dead, I must think what I will do when Accolon returns-Gwenhwyfar shall go into a nunnery, or if she wishes to go beyond the seas to Less Britain with Lancelet, I will not stop them.... She rose and dressed herself, made herself beautiful.\n\n\"You should keep your bed, Morgaine, you are still so pale,\" said Uriens.\n\n\"No. There are strange tidings coming, my husband, and we must be ready for them,\" she said, and went on braiding her hair with scarlet ribbons and gems. Uriens stood at the window and said, \"Look, the Companions are practicing their military games-Uwaine, I think, is the best rider. Come, my dear, does he not ride as well as Gawaine? And that is Galahad at his side. Morgaine, don't grieve for the child you lost. Uwaine will always think of you as his mother. I told you when we were wedded, I would never reproach you for barrenness. I would have welcomed another child, but since it was not to be, well, we have nothing to grieve for. And,\" he said shyly, taking her hand, \"perhaps it is better so-I did not realize how near I had come to losing you.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She stood at the window, his arm about her waist, feeling atone and the same time a feeling of revulsion and a gratitude for his kindness. He need never know, she thought, that it had been Accolon's son. Let him take pride that in his old age he could father a child.\n\n\"Look,\" said Uriens, craning his neck to see further, \"what is that, coming through the gate?\"\n\nA rider, together with a monk in dark habit on a mule, and a horse bearing a body-\"Come,\" she said, pulling at his hand, \"we must go down now.\" Pale and silent, she moved at his side into the courtyard, feeling herself tall and commanding as befitted a queen.\n\nIt seemed that time stopped; as if they were again in the fairy country. Why was not Arthur with them, if he had triumphed? But if this was Arthur's dead body, where was the ceremony and pomp on the death of a king? Uriens reached to support her with his arm, but she thrust it away and stood clinging to the wood-framed door. The monk put back his hood and said, \"Are you Queen Morgaine of Wales?\"\n\n\"I am,\" she said.\n\n\"I have then a message for you,\" he said. \"Your brother Arthur lies wounded in Glastonbury, nursed by the sisters there, but he will recover. He sends you this\"-he waved his hand at the shrouded figure on the pack horse-\"as a present, and he bid me say to you that he has his sword Excalibur, and the scabbard.\" And as he spoke he twitched away the pall covering the body, and Morgaine, all the strength in her body running out of her like water, saw Accolon's sightless eyes staring at the sky." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Move the story forward in your role as narrative aide.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 13" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She stood at the window, his arm about her waist, feeling atone and the same time a feeling of revulsion and a gratitude for his kindness. He need never know, she thought, that it had been Accolon's son. Let him take pride that in his old age he could father a child.\n\n\"Look,\" said Uriens, craning his neck to see further, \"what is that, coming through the gate?\"\n\nA rider, together with a monk in dark habit on a mule, and a horse bearing a body-\"Come,\" she said, pulling at his hand, \"we must go down now.\" Pale and silent, she moved at his side into the courtyard, feeling herself tall and commanding as befitted a queen.\n\nIt seemed that time stopped; as if they were again in the fairy country. Why was not Arthur with them, if he had triumphed? But if this was Arthur's dead body, where was the ceremony and pomp on the death of a king? Uriens reached to support her with his arm, but she thrust it away and stood clinging to the wood-framed door. The monk put back his hood and said, \"Are you Queen Morgaine of Wales?\"\n\n\"I am,\" she said.\n\n\"I have then a message for you,\" he said. \"Your brother Arthur lies wounded in Glastonbury, nursed by the sisters there, but he will recover. He sends you this\"-he waved his hand at the shrouded figure on the pack horse-\"as a present, and he bid me say to you that he has his sword Excalibur, and the scabbard.\" And as he spoke he twitched away the pall covering the body, and Morgaine, all the strength in her body running out of her like water, saw Accolon's sightless eyes staring at the sky." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Uriens cried out, a great cry like death." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Uwaine thrust his way through the crowd around the steps, and as his father fell, stricken, across the body of his son, Uwaine caught and supported him.\n\n\"Father, dear Father! Ah, dear God, Accolon,\" he said with a gasp, and stepped toward the horse where Accolon's body lay. \"Gawaine, my friend, give my father your arm-I must see to my mother, she is fainting-\"\n\n\"No,\" said Morgaine. \"No.\" She heard her own voice like an echo, not even sure what she wanted to deny. She would have rushed to Accolon, flung herself on his body shrieking in despair and grief, but Uwaine held her tight.\n\nGwenhwyfar appeared on the stairway; someone explained the situation to her in a whisper, and Gwenhwyfar came down the steps, looking at Accolon. \"He died in rebellion against the High King,\" she said clearly. \"Let there be no Christian rites for him! Let his body be flung to the ravens, and his head hung on the wall as a traitor!\"\n\n\"No! Ah, no,\" cried out Uriens, wailing. \"I beg of you, I beg-Queen Gwenhwyfar, you know me one of your most loyal subjects, and my poorboy has paid for his crimes-I beg you, lady, Jesus too died a common criminal between thieves, and even for the thief on the cross at his side there was mercy.... Show the mercy he would have shown....\"\n\nGwenhwyfar seemed not to hear. \"How does my lord Arthur?\"\n\n\"He is recovering, lady, but he has lost much blood,\" said the strange monk. \"Yet he bade you have no fear. He will recover.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwenhwyfar sighed. \"King Uriens,\" she said, \"for the sake of our good knight Uwaine, I will do as you wish. Let the body of Accolon be borne to the chapel and there laid instate-\"\n\nMorgaine found her voice to protest. \"No, Gwenhwyfar! Lay him in earth decently, if you can find it in your heart to do so much, but he was no Christian-do not give him Christian burial. Uriens is so filled with grief he knows not what he says.\"\n\n\"Be still, Mother,\" said Uwaine, gripping her shoulder hard. \"For my sake and my father's, bring no scandal here. If Accolon served not the Christ, then has he all the more need of God's mercy against the traitor's death he should have had!\"\n\nMorgaine wanted to protest, but her voice would not obey her. She let Uwaine guide her indoors, but once within the door she threw off his arm and walked alone. She felt frozen and lifeless. Only a few hours gone, it seemed to her, she had lain in Accolon's arms in the fairy country, had belted the sword Excalibur at his waist... now she stood knee-deep in a relentless tide, watching it all swept away from her again, and the world was filled with the accusing eyes of Uwaine and his father.\n\n\"Aye, I know it was you who plotted this treachery,\" said Uwaine, \"but I have no pity for Accolon, who let himself be led astray by a woman! Have decency enough, Mother, not to drag my father any further into your wicked schemes against our king!\" He glared at her, then turned to his father, who stood as if dazed, clutching at some piece of furniture. Uwaine put the old man into a chair, knelt and kissed his hand. \"Father dear, I am still at your side....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh, my son, my son-\" Uriens cried out, despairing.\n\n\"Rest here, Father, you must be strong,\" he said. \"But now let me care for my mother. She is ill, too-\"\n\n\"Your mother, you call her!\" Uriens cried out, starting upright and staring at Morgaine with implacable wrath. \"Never again let me hear you call that abominable woman Mother! Do you think I know not that by her sorcery she led my good son into rebellion against his king? And now I think by her evil witchcraft she must also have contrived the death of Avalloch-aye, and of that other son she should have borne tome-three sons of mine has she sent down into death! Lookout that she does not seduce you and betray you with her witchcraft, into death and destruction-no, she is not your mother!\"\n\n\"Father! My lord!\" Uwaine protested, and held out a hand to Morgaine. \"Forgive him, Mother, he does not know what he is saying, you are beside yourselves with grief, both of you-I beg you in God's name to becalm, we have had enough grief this day-\"\n\nBut Morgaine hardly heard him. This man, this husband she had never wanted, he was all that was left of the wreck of her plans! She should have left him to die in the fairy country, but now he was doddering around in the fullness of his useless old life and Accolon was dead, Accolon who sought to bring back all that his father had pledged and forsworn, all that Arthur had vowed to Avalon and forsaken... and nothing was left but this ancient dotard....\n\nShe snatched the sickle knife of Avalon from her girdle and thrust away Uwaine's restraining arms. Rushing forward, she raised the dagger high; she hardly knew what it was she meant to do as it flashed down." }, { "from": "human", "value": "An iron grip caught her wrist, wrenching at the dagger." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Uwaine's hand came near to breaking her wrist as she struggled. \"No, let it go... Mother!\" he pleaded. \"Mother, is the Devil in you? Mother, look, it is only Father... ah, God, can you not show some pity for his grief? He does not mean to accuse you, he is so miserable he does not know what he is saying, in his right mind he will know that what he says is wild nonsense... I do not accuse you either... Mother, Mother, listen tome, give me the dagger, dear Mother....\"\n\nThe repeated cries of'Mother!\" and the love and anguish in Uwaine's voice finally reached down through the mist that blurred Morgaine's eyes and mind. She let Uwaine wrench away the little knife, noticing, as if from a thousand leagues away, that there was blood on her fingers where the razor edge of the sickle had cut her as they struggled. His hand was cut too, and he put his finger in his mouth and sucked at it as if he had been ten years old.\n\n\"Father dear, forgive her,\" Uwaine begged, bending over Uriens, who lay white as death. \"She is distraught, she loved my brother too-and remember how ill she has been, she should not have left her bed today at all! Mother, let me send for your women to take you back to bed-here, you will want this,\" he said, pressing the sickle back into her hand. \"I know you had it from your own foster-mother, the Lady of Avalon, you told me that when I was just a little boy. Ah, poor little mother,\" he said, encircling her shoulders with his arms. She could remember when she had been taller than he, when he was a thin little boy with bones as small and green as a bird's, and now he towered over her, holding her gently against him. \"Mother dearest, my poor little mother, come now, come, don't cry, I know you loved Accolon just as you loved me-poor Mother-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Morgaine wished that she could cry indeed, that she could let all this terrible grief and despair rush out of her with tears, as she felt Uwaine's hot tears falling on her own forehead." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Uriens too stood weeping, but she stood tearless and cold. The world seemed all grey, crumbling at the edges, and everything she looked on seemed to take on some giant menacing shape and yet to be very small and faraway, as if she could pick it up like a toy... she dared not move lest it should fall to bits at her touch, she hardly knew it when her women came. They took her stiff and unresisting body and lifted her and carried her to bed, they took off the queenly crown and the gown she had put on for her triumph, and distantly she knew that her shift and underlinen were soaked again with blood, but it seemed not to matter. Along time after, she came to herself and knew that she was washed clean and dressed in a clean shift and lying in bed beside Uriens, with one of her women drowsing on a stool at her side. She raised herself a little and looked down at the sleeping man, his face sunken and reddened with weeping, and it was as if she looked on a stranger.\n\nYes, he had been good to her in his own way. But now that is all past and my work in his land is done. I will never see his face again while I live, nor know where he lies in death.\n\nAccolon was dead and her plans in ruins. Arthur still bore the sword Excalibur and the enchanted scabbard which gave him a charmed life, and since the one to whom she had entrusted that task had failed her, escaping into death where she could not follow, then she herself must be the hand of Avalon to strike him down.\n\nMoving so silently that she would not have wakened a sleeping bird, she put on her clothes and tied the dagger of Avalon at her waist. She left all the fine gowns and jewels that Uriens had given her, wrapping herself in her plainest dark robe, not unlike the dress of a priestess. She found her little bag of herbs and medicines, and in the dark, by touch, she painted her brow with the dark moon. Then she took the plainest cloak she could find-not her own, embroidered with gold thread and precious stones, but a servant's rough hooded wrap-and stole noiselessly down the stairs." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "From the chapel she heard sounds of chanting; somehow Uwaine had arranged this over Accolon's body. Well, it did not matter. Accolon was free, what did it matter what mummery the priests made with the tenantless clay? Nothing mattered now but reclaiming the sword of Avalon. She turned her back on the chapel. One day she would have leisure to mourn him; now she must carry on where he had failed.\n\nShe went silently into the stable and found her horse, managing to bind on the saddle with clumsy hands. She led the animal to the small side gate.\n\nShe was almost too dizzy to climb into the saddle, and fora moment she sat swaying, wondering if she would fall. Should she wait, or try to summon Kevin to attend her? The Merlin of Britain was vowed to follow the will of the Lady. But she could not trust Kevin either, he had betrayed Viviane into the hands of those priests who now chanted their hymns over Accolon's helpless body. She whispered to the horse, felt him break into a trot beneath her, and from the foot of the hill turned back to look her last on Camelot.\n\nI shall come here but once again in this life, and then there will no longer be a Camelot to which I might return. And even as she whispered the words, she wondered what they meant.\n\nAS OFTEN AS MORGAINE had travelled to Avalon, she had only once set foot upon the Isle of the Priests; Glastonbury Abbey, where Viviane lay buried and Igraine, too, had spent her last years, was a stranger journey to her than the crossing of the mists into the hidden lands. There was a ferry there, and she gave the ferryman a small coin to row her across the Lake, wondering what the man would do if she suddenly rose as she would do with the Avalon barge and cast the spell that would lead it into the mists and bring it forth in Avalon... but she did not. Is it only that I cannot? she asked herself." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The air was cool and fresh in the hour just before sunrise. Overhead, the sound of church bells was soft and clear, and Morgaine could see along line of grey-robed forms pacing slowly toward the church. The brothers rose early to pray and chant their soft hymns, and fora moment Morgaine stood quiet, listening. Her mother, and Arthur's, lay buried there. Viviane, too, had been laid to rest within the sound of those hymns. The musician in Morgaine, always quickly moved, listened to the soft song, borne on the early-morning breeze, and fora moment she stood motionless, tears burning her eyes; was she planning outrage on this holy soil? Let it go, let there be peace among you, children... it seemed that it was Igraine's forgotten voice murmuring to her.\n\nNow all the grey forms were within the church. She had heard much of the abbey here... she knew there was a brotherhood of monks, and at some distance from them, a house of nuns where women dwelt, vowed to be virgins of the Christ till they died. Morgaine wrinkled her face in distaste; a God who chose to keep men and women with their thoughts on Heaven rather than on this world, which had been given to them for learning and growing inspirit, seemed alien to her, and now that she actually saw men and women mingling this way in worship with no thought of any other touch or communication, she felt sickened. Oh yes, there were holy virgins in Avalon-she herself had been secluded that way till the proper time, and Raven had given not only her body but her very voice to the Goddess for her use. There washer own foster-daughter, Lancelet's daughter Nimue, who had been selected by Raven to dwell unseen in solitude... but the Goddess recognized that this was a rare choice, not one to be imposed on every woman who sought to serve her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Morgaine did not believe what some of her companions in Avalon had said, that monks and nuns merely pretended holiness and chastity to impress the peasants with their purity and behind the closed doors of their monasteries did whatever wantonness they would." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Yes, she would have despised that. Those who had chosen to serve spirit rather than flesh should do so in truth; hypocrisy was always disgusting. But the knowledge that they really lived that way, that any force calling itself divine could prefer barrenness to fruitfulness-that seemed to her a terrible betrayal of the very forces which gave life to the world.\n\nFools and worse, narrowing their lives and thus wishing to narrow all other lives to their own mean compass...\n\nBut she must not linger here. She turned her back on the church bells and stole toward the guesthouse, her mind reaching out, calling on the Sight to lead her to where Arthur lay.\n\nThere were three women in the guesthouse-one dozing beside the door, another stirring a kettle of gruel in the kitchen at the back, and yet a third at the door of the room where very dimly she could feel Arthur's presence; he was deep in slumber. But the women in their somber robes and veils stirred as she came; they were holy women in their own way, and they had something very like the Sight-in her presence they could sense something inimical to their lives, the touch, perhaps, of the strangeness of Avalon. One of them rose and confronted her, asking in a whisper, \"Who are you, and why have you come here at this hour?\"\n\n\"I am Queen Morgaine of North Wales and Cornwall,\" Morgaine said in her low, commanding voice, \"and I am hereto see my brother. Will you dare to forbid me?\"\n\nShe held the woman's gaze, then waved her hand in the simplest of the spells she had been taught, to dominate, and the woman sank back, unable to speak or forbid her. Later, she knew, the woman would tell a tale of enchantments and of fear, but in truth it was no more than this: the simple domination of a powerful will over one which had been given up, deliberately, to submission." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A soft light burned inside the room, and by its dimness Morgaine could see Arthur, unshaven, haggard, his fair hair darkened with sweat. The scabbard was lying on the foot of his bed... he must have anticipated some such action on her part, he would not let it out of his reach. And in his hand he held the hilt of Excalibur.\n\nSomehow, somehow, his mind gave him warning. Morgaine was filled with dismay. He had the Sight, too; though he looked so fair and unlike the dark people of Britain, he too was of the ancient royal line of Avalon and he could reach her thoughts. She knew that if she reached out to take Excalibur from his hand, he would sense her intent, would wake-and he would kill her; she had no illusions about that. He was a good Christian, or so he thought himself, but he had been set on the throne to kill his enemies, and in some mystical way Morgaine only half understood, the sword Excalibur had grown entangled with the very soul and spirit of Arthur's kingship. If it had not been so, if it had only been a sword, then would he have been willing to render it back to Avalon and had another made for himself, a stronger sword and a better... but Excalibur had become for him the visible and ultimate symbol of what he was as King. Or perhaps it is the sword itself which has entangled itself with Arthur's soul and kingship and will kill me of its own will, should I seek to take it from him... and dare I set myself against the will of such a magical symbol? Morgaine started and told herself not to be fanciful. She laid her hand on her dagger; it was razor sharp and she could move, when she must, as swiftly as a striking snake. She could seethe small vein in his throat and knew that if she could cut swift and deep to where the great artery lay beneath it, he would be dead almost before he could cry out." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She had killed before this. She had sent Avalloch without hesitation to his death, and not three days since, she had slain the harmless child in her womb... he who lay sleeping before her was the greater traitor, surely. One stroke, swift and quiet... ah, but this was the child Igraine had placed in her arms, her first love, the father of her son, the Horned God, the King.... Strike, fool! For this you came here!\n\nNo. There has been too much death. We were born from a single womb and I could not face my mother in the country beyond death, not with the blood of my brother on my hands, and fora moment, knowing she moved at the very edge of madness, she heard Igraine calling impatiently, Morgaine, I told you to take care of the baby...\n\nIt seemed to her that he stirred in sleep, as if he too heard that voice; Morgaine slid the dagger back into its sheath, reached out her hand, and took the scabbard. This at least she had aright to take-with her own hands she had fashioned it, the spells she had woven into it were her own.\n\nShe hid the scabbard under her cloak and went swiftly out through the thinning darkness to the ferry. As the ferryman rowed her across, she felt the prickling of her skin and seemed to see, like a shadow, the barge from Avalon... on the far shore they were all around her, the crew of the Avalon barge. Now quickly, quickly, she must get back again to Avalon... but the sun was rising and the shadow of the church lay across the water, and suddenly the sun flooded the landscape and with the dawn a ringing of church bells was everywhere. Morgaine stood as if paralyzed; through that sound she could not summon the mists, nor speak the spell." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She said to one of the men, \"Can you take us to Avalon? Quickly?\"\n\nHe said, shivering, \"I cannot, lady. It grows harder, without a priestess to speak the spell, and even so, at dawn and at noon and at sunset, when they ring the bells for prayer, there is noway to cross the mists. Not now. The spell no longer opens the way at these times, although, if we wait till the bells are silent, it maybe that we can manage to return.\"\n\nWhy, Morgaine wondered, should this be so? It had to do with the knowledge that the world was as it was because of what men believed it was... year by year, these past three or four generations, the minds of men had been hardened to believing that there was one God, one world, one way of describing reality, and that all things which intruded on the realm of that great one-ness must be evil and of the fiends, and that the sound of the bells and the shadow of their holy places would keep the evil afar. And as more and more people believed this, it was so, and Avalon no more than a dream adrift in an almost inaccessible other world.\n\nOh yes, she could still call the mists... but not here, not where the shadow of the church's spire lay across the water and the clamor of the bells struck terror into her heart. They were trapped on the shores of the Lake! And now she was aware that a boat was pushing out from the shores of the priests\" Isle, to cross the Lake and find her here. Arthur had wakened and found her scabbard gone from him, and now would pursue her....\n\nWell, let him follow her as he could, there were other ways into Avalon where the shadow of the church did not prevent her passage. She climbed quickly into her saddle and began to ride along the shores of the Lake, circling; she would come at last to a place where, at least in summer, she could cross through the mists; the place where she and Lancelet had once found Gwenhwyfar strayed from the nunnery. It was not Lake but swampland, and they could get into Avalon by the back way, behind the Tor." }, { "from": "human", "value": "She knew that the little dark men were running behind her horse, that they could run for half a day at her horse's tail if they must." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But now she heard hoofbeats... she was pursued, Arthur was hard on her heels, and there were armed knights with him. She dug her feet into the horse's side, but this was a lady's horse, not intended for the chase....\n\nShe slid down her horse's side, the scabbard in her hand. \"Scatter,\" she whispered to the men, and one by one it was as if they melted into the trees and mists... they could move like shadows if they must, and no man alive could find them if they did not want to be found. Morgaine grasped the scabbard in her hand and began to run along the shores of the Lake. In her mind she could hear Arthur's voice, feel his rage....\n\nHe had Excalibur; she could feel it, like a great shining in her mind, the holy thing of Avalon... but the scabbard he should never bear again. She took it in both hands, whirled it over her head, and flung it, with all her strength, far out into the Lake, where she saw it sink into the deep and fathomless waters. No human hand could ever reclaim it-there it would lie till leather and velvet rotted and the silver and gold thread tarnished and twisted and at last the spells woven into them vanished utterly from the world.\n\nArthur was riding in pursuit, Excalibur naked in his hand... but she and her escort were gone. Morgaine drew herself into silence, apart of shadow and tree as if some essential part of herself had gone into Fairy; while she stayed there motionless, covered in the silence of a priestess, no one from the mortal world could see so much as her shadow....\n\nArthur shouted her name.\n\n\"Morgaine! Morgaine!\" A third time he called, loud and angry; but the very shadows were still, and at last, confused from riding in circles-once he came so close that Morgaine could feel the breath of his horse-he wearied, and called to his escort, and they came to find him swaying in his saddle, the bandages slowly soaking through with blood, and they led him away the way they had come." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then Morgaine raised her hand, and once again the normal sound of bird and wind and tree came back into the world.\n\nMORGAINE SPEAKS...\n\nIn later years I heard the tale told of how I took the scabbard by sorcery, and how Arthur rode after me with a hundred knights, and I too had a hundred fairy knights all round me; and when Arthur's pursuit grew near, I turned myself and my men into ring stones.... Someday, no doubt, they will add that when I had done, I called for my chariot with the winged dragons, and flew away into Fairy.\n\nBut it was not so. It was no more than this, that the little people can hide in the forests and become one with tree and shadow, and that day I was one of them, as I had been taught in Avalon; and when Arthur had been taken away by his escort, near to fainting with the long pursuit and the cold in his wound, I said farewell to the men of Avalon, and rode away to Tintagel. But when I came to Tintagel it mattered little tome what they did in Camelot, for I was sick even to death fora longtime.\n\nI know not, even now, what ailed me; I know only that summer faded and the leaves began to fall while I lay in my bed, tended by the servants I had found there, neither knowing nor caring whether I would ever rise. I know I had a low fever, a weariness so great that I could not force myself to sit upright or to eat, a heaviness of mind so great that I cared not whether I would live or die. My servants-one or two of them I recalled from the days when I lived there as a little child, with Igraine-thought me enchanted; and it may even have been true." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Marcus of Cornwall sent tome in homage, and I thought, Arthur's star rides high, no doubt he believes that I have come here at Arthur's will, and he will not-now-challenge Arthur even for these lands he believes his own. A year ago, I might have laughed at this, or even made common cause with Marcus, promising him lands herein return for leading a party of the disaffected against Arthur. And even now it crossed my mind; but with Accolon dead, it seemed to matter nothing. Arthur had Excalibur... if the Goddess wished that it should betaken from him, she would have to come and take it herself, for I had failed, I washer priestess no more....\n\n... I think it was that which hurt me worst, that I had failed, failed Avalon, that she had not put forth her hand to help me do her will. The strength of Arthur and the priests and of the traitor Kevin had been stronger than the magic of Avalon, and there was no one left.\n\nNo one left. No one. I mourned without ceasing for Accolon, and for the child whose life had barely begun before it was ended, cast aside like offal. I mourned too for Arthur, lost tome now, and my enemy, and, unbelievably, even for Uriens, and for the wreck of my life in Wales, the only peace I had ever known. I had killed or thrust from me or lost to death everyone in this world I had ever loved. Igraine was gone, and Viviane lost to death, murdered and lying among the priests of their God of death and doom. Accolon was gone, the priest I had consecrated to do that last battle against the Christian priests. Arthur was my enemy; Lancelet had learned to hate and fear me, and I was not guiltless for that hate. Gwenhwyfar feared and loathed me, even Elaine was gone now... and Uwaine, who had been as my own son, hated me too. There was none to care whether I should live or die, and so I did not care either...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The last of the leaves had gone and the fearful storms of winter had begun to beat over Tintagel when one day one of my women came tome and said that a man had come to seek me.\n\n\"At this season?\" I looked out beyond the window, where unceasing rain beat down from skies as grey and bleak as the inside of my own mind. What traveller would come through this bitter weather, struggling through storms and darkness? No; whoever he might be, I cared not. \"Say to him that the Duchess of Cornwall sees no man, and send him away.\"\n\n\"Into the rain on a night such as this will be, lady?\" I was startled that the woman should protest; most of them feared me fora sorceress, and I was content to have it so. But the woman was right; Tintagel had never failed in hospitality when it was in the hands of my long-dead father, or of Igraine... so be it. I said, \"Give the traveller hospitality fitting his rank, and food, and bed; but tell him that I am ill, and cannot receive him.\"\n\nShe went away and I lay watching the fierce rain and darkness, feeling its cold breath through the slit of the window and trying to find my way back into the peaceful blankness where now I felt most like myself. But after a very little, the door opened again and the woman returned, and I started upright, shaking with anger, the first emotion I had let myself feel in many weeks.\n\n\"I have not summoned you, and I did not bid you return! How dare you?\"\n\n\"I am charged with a message for you, lady,\" she said, \"a message I didn't daresay no to, not when one of the high ones speaks.... He said,\"I speak not to the Duchess of Cornwall but to the Lady of Avalon, and she cannot refuse the Messenger of the Gods when the Merlin seeks audience and counsel. \"\" The woman paused and said, \"I hope I've got it right... he made me say it over twice to be sure I had it all.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Now, against my will, I felt the stirrings of curiosity. The Merlin? But Kevin was Arthur's man, surely he would not have come like this tome. Had he not aligned himself firmly with Arthur and with the Christians, traitor to Avalon? But perhaps some other man now held that office, Messenger of the Gods, Merlin of Britain... and now I thought of my son Gwydion, or Mordred as I supposed I must now think of him; perhaps this was his office, for he alone would now think of meas Lady of Avalon.... After along silence, I said, \"Tell him I will see him, then.\" After a moment I added, \"But not like this. Send someone to dress me.\" For I knew that I was too weak to put on my own clothes. But I would not receive any man this way, weak and ill and in my bedchamber; I, who was priestess of Avalon, would manage to stand on my feet before the Merlin, even if what he brought was sentence of death for all my failure... I am still Morgaine!\n\nI managed to rise, to have my dress put on and my shoes, and my hair braided down my back and covered with the veil of a priestess; I even painted, after the woman's clumsy hands had twice botched it, the symbol of the moon on my forehead. My hands-I noted it incuriously, as if they belonged to someone else-were shaking, and I was weak enough that I let the woman give me her arm as I crawled down the steep stairs. But the Merlin should not see my weakness.\n\nAfire had been builtin the hall; the fire was smoking a little, as always here when it rained, and through the smoke I could see only a man's figure seated by the fire, turned away from me, draped in a grey cloak-but at his side stood a tall harp I could not mistake; from My Lady I knew the man. Kevin's hair was all grey now, but he dragged his stooped body upright as I came in." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So,\" I said, \"you call yourself still Merlin of Britain, when you serve only Arthur's will and defy that of Avalon?\"\n\n\"I know not what to call myself now,\" said Kevin quietly, \"save perhaps servant of those who serve the Gods, who are all One.\"\n\n\"Why have you come here, then?\"\n\n\"Again, I know not,\" said the musical voice I had loved so well, \"save perhaps in repayment of some debt laid down before these hills were raised, my dear.\" Then he raised his voice to the serving-woman.\n\n\"Your lady is ill! Get her to a seat!\"\n\nMy head was swimming and a grey mist seemed to waver around me; the next thing I knew I was seated by the fire across from Kevin, and the woman was gone.\n\nHe said, \"Poor Morgaine, poor girl,\" and for the first time since Accolon's death had turned me to stone, I felt that I could weep; and clenched my teeth against the weeping, for if I shed one tear, I knew that everything within me would melt, and I would cry and cry and cry and never cease crying until I melted into a very lake of tears....\n\nI said tightly, clenched, \"I am no girl, Kevin Harper, and you have won your way to my presence falsely. Now say what you will say, and go your way.\"\n\n\"Lady of Avalon-\"\n\n\"I am not,\" I said, and remembered that the last time I saw this man, I had driven him from my presence, shrieked at him, called him traitor. It seemed not to matter; perhaps it was fate that two traitors to Avalon should sit here before this fire, for I too had betrayed my oath to Avalon... how dared I judge Kevin?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"What then are you?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "he asked quietly. \"Raven is old, and silent now for years. Niniane will never have the power to rule. You are needed there-\"\n\n\"When last we spoke,\" I interrupted him, \"you said Avalon's day was done. Why then should there be any to sit in Viviane's place except a child half-fated for that high office, waiting for the day when Avalon fades forever into the mists?\" I felt a scalding bitterness in my throat. \"Since you have forsaken Avalon for the banner of Arthur, will it not make your task easier if none reigns in Avalon save an ancient prophetess and a powerless priestess...?\"\n\n\"Niniane is Gwydion's love and his creature,\" said Kevin. \"And it comes tome that your voice and your hands are needed there. Even if Avalon is fated to pass away into the mists, will you refuse to pass with it? I never thought you a coward, Morgaine.\" And then he raised his eyes to mine and said, \"You will die here, Morgaine, die of grief and exile...\"\n\nI turned my face away and said, \"For that I came here...\" and for the first time I knew indeed that I had come hereto die. \"All I have tried to do is in ruin, I have failed, failed... it should be your triumph, Merlin, that Arthur has won.\"\n\nHe shook his head. \"Ah, no, my dear, no triumph,\" he said. \"I do what the Gods have given me to do, no more, and you do the same. And indeed if your doom shall be to seethe end of the world we have known, why then, my dearest love, let that doom find us each in our appointed place, serving what our God has given us to serve.... It is laid on me to recall you to Avalon, Morgaine, I know not why. My task would be simpler with only Niniane there, but, Morgaine, your place is in Avalon, and mine where the Gods shall decree. And in Avalon you can be healed.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Healed.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I said it in contempt. I did not care.\n\nKevin looked at me sadly. \"My dearest love,\" he had called me. It seemed tome now that he was the one person alive who knew meas I was; before every other person alive, even Arthur, I had worn a different face, seeking always to appear other and better than I was; even to Viviane, that she might find me more worthy to be a priestess.... For Kevin I was Morgaine, thus and no other. It came tome that even if I stretched forth my hand to him as the Death-crone he would see nothing but my own face, Morgaine.... I had always felt that love was other than this, was that burning I had felt for Lancelet, for Accolon. For Kevin I had felt little save for that detached compassion, friendship, kindness; what I had given him had meant but little tome, and yet... and yet he alone had taken thought to come tome, to care whether or no I died hereof grief.\n\nBut how dared he break in upon my peace, when I had almost won through to that utter quiet which was beyond life? I turned away from him and said, \"No.\" I could not comeback to life again, could not struggle and suffer, and live with the hatred of those who had once loved me.... If I lived, if I returned to Avalon, I must enter again into a death struggle with Arthur whom I loved, I must see Lancelet still in Gwenhwyfar's prison of love. I had ceased to care, I could endure no further the pain that was in my heart....\n\nNo. I was here, in silence and peace, and before long, I knew it now, I would pass even further into peace... the dizziness that was near to death was drawing closer and ever closer, and this Kevin, this traitor, would bring me back? I said, \"No,\" again and turned away, my hands covering my face. \"Leave me in peace, Kevin Harper. Hither I came to die. Leave me now.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He did not move, nor did he speak, and I sat very still, my veil over my face. After a little time, surely, now he would arise and leave me, for I had not the strength to go forth from him. And I... I would sit here until I was carried back to my bed by the women, and then I would never rise again.\n\nAnd then, into the silence, I heard the soft sound of the harp. Kevin played, and after a moment he sang.\n\nI had heard apart of this ballad, for he had sung it often at Arthur's court, of that bard in ancient times, sir Orfeo, who made the trees to dance and the stones on the plain to stand in a ring and dance, and all the beasts of the wood to come and lay themselves at his feet when they should have rent him with their claws. But beyond that, today, he sang the other part of the song, which was a Mystery, and which I had never heard before. He sang of how the initiate, Orfeo, had lost her that he loved, and had descended into the Afterworld and spoken there before the Lords of Death, and pleaded for her, and was given permission to go into the dark lands, and bring her forth, and then he had found her thereon the Undying Plains....\n\nAnd then his voice spoke from the soul... and I heard what seemed my own voice pleading.\n\n\"Seek not to bring me forth, when I am resigned to stay herein death. Here within these undying lands all is at rest, with neither pain nor struggle; here can I forget both love and grief.\"\n\nThe room faded away around me; no longer could I smell the smoke from the fireplace, the chill breath of rain beyond the window, I was no longer conscious of my own body, ill and dizzy where I sat. It seemed tome that I stood in a garden filed with scentless flowers and eternal peace, with only the distant voice of the harp breaking unwillingly through the silence. And that harp sang tome, undesired." }, { "from": "human", "value": "It sang of the wind from Avalon, with the breath of apple blossom and the smell of ripened apples in their season; it brought tome the cool freshness of the mist over the Lake, and the sounds of the running deer deep in the forest where the little folk live still, and it brought me the sun-soaked summer where I lay in the sun beneath the ring stones, with Lancelet's arms round me and the blood of life rising like sap within my veins for the first time." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then I felt again in my arms the heavy softness of my little son, his soft hair against my face, his milky breath sweet and soft... or was it Arthur himself in my lap, clinging tome, his little hands patting my cheek... again Viviane's hands touched my brow in blessing, and I felt myself abridge between earth and sky as I stretched my own hands forth in invocation... high winds swirled through the grove where I lay with the young stag in the darkness of the eclipse, and Accolon's voice spoke my name....\n\nAnd now it was not the harp alone but the voices of the dead and the living crying out tome: \"Return again, return, life itself is calling you with all its pleasure and pain...\" and then anew note came into the voice of the harp.\n\n\"It is I who calls you, Morgaine of Avalon... priestess of the Mother...\"\n\nAnd I raised my head, seeing not Kevin's twisted body and sorrowing features, but where he had stood was Someone, tall and shining, a sunlit glory about his face and in his hands the shining Harp and Bow. I caught my breath before the God, as the voice sang on...\"Return to life, return again tome... you who have sworn... life awaits you beyond this darkness of death....\"\n\nI struggled to turn away. \"It is not the God who can command me, but the Goddess....\"\n\n\"But,\" said the familiar voice in the silence of that eternity, \"you are the Goddess and it is I who call you...\" and fora moment, as if in the calm waters of the mirror of Avalon, I saw myself robed and crowned with the high crown of the Lady of Life....\n\n\"But I am old, old, I belong now to death, not to life...\" I whispered, and in the silence, words heard again and again in ritual suddenly came to life on the lips of the God." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"... she will be old and young as it shall please her...\" and before my eyes my own mirrored face was again young and fair as the maiden who had sent forth the young stag to challenge the running deer... yes, and I had been old when Accolon came tome, yet I had sent him forth to the challenge heavy with his child... and even old and barren, yet life pulsed within meas within the eternal life of the earth and the Lady... and the God stood before me, the eternal One who summoned me forth to life... and I took one step and then another, and then I was climbing, climbing from the darkness, following the distant notes of the harp that sang tome of the green hills of Avalon, and the waters of life... and then I found I was on my feet, reaching for Kevin... and he put the harp gently aside and caught me, half-fainting, in his arms. And fora moment the shining hands of the God burned me... and then it was only Kevin's sweet, musical, half-mocking voice that said, \"I cannot hold you, Morgaine, as well you know,\" and he placed me gently into my chair. \"When did you eat last, Morgaine?\"\n\n\"I cannot remember,\" I confessed, and suddenly I was aware of my deathly weakness; he called the serving-woman and said, speaking in the gently authoritative voice of a Druid and a healer, \"Bring your mistress some bread and some warmed milk with honey.\"\n\nI raised a hand to protest, and the woman looked indignant, and now I remembered that twice she had tried to coax me to eat with these very things. But she went to do his bidding, and when she returned, Kevin took the bread and soaked it in the milk and fed it tome, gently, a few mouthfuls at a time." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No more,\" he said. \"You have been fasting too long. But before you sleep, you must drink a little more milk with an egg beaten into it... I will show them what to do. The day after tomorrow, perhaps, you will be strong enough to ride.\"\n\nAnd suddenly I began to cry. I wept, at last, for Accolon lying dead on his pall, and for Arthur who hated me now, and for Elaine who had been my friend... and for Viviane, lying dead beneath a Christian tomb, and for Igraine, and for myself, for myself who had lived through all these things... and he said again, \"Poor Morgaine, poor girl,\" and held me against his bony breast, and I cried and cried until at last I was quiet, and he called my women to carry me to my bed.\n\nAnd for the first time in many days, I slept. And two days later, I rode to Avalon.\n\nI remember little of that northward journey, sick in body and mind. I did not even wonder that Kevin left me before I came to the Lake. I came to those shores at sunset, when the waters of the Lake seemed to run crimson and the sky was all afire; and out of the flame-colored water and sky appeared the barge, painted and draped all in black, oars muffled to the silence of a dream. And fora moment it seemed tome that it was the Sacred Boat on that shoreless sea of which I may not speak, and that the dark figure at the prow was She, and that somehow I bridged the gap between earth and sky... but I do not know whether that was real or a dream. And then the mists fell over us, and I felt within my very soul that shifting which told me I was once again within my own place." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Niniane welcomed meat the shore, taking me in her arms, not as the stranger I had seen but twice, but as a daughter greets a mother she has not seen for many years; then she took me away to the house where once Viviane had dwelt. She did not, this time, send young priestesses to tend me, but cared for me herself, putting me to bed in the inner room of the house, bringing me water from the Sacred Well; and when I tasted it, I knew that although the healing would belong, I was not yet beyond healing.\n\nI had known enough of power. I was content to lay down the burdens of the world; it was time to leave that to others, and to let my daughters tend me. Slowly, slowly, in the silence of Avalon, I recovered my strength. Thereat last I could mourn for Accolon-not for the ruin of my hopes and plans... I could see now what madness they had been; I was priestess of Avalon, not Queen. But I could mourn the brief and bitter summer of our love; I could grieve, too, for the child who had not lived long enough to be born, and suffer once again that it had been my own hand that had sent him into the shades.\n\nIt was along season of mourning, and there were times when I wondered if I should mourn all my life and never again be free of it; but at last I could remember without weeping, and recall the days of love without unending sorrow welling up like tears from the very depths of my being. There is no sorrow like the memory of love and the knowledge that it is gone forever; even in dreams, I never saw again his face, and though I longed for it, I came at last to see that it was just as well, lest I live all the rest of my life in dreams... but at last there came a day when I could look back and know that the time for mourning was ended; my lover and my child were on the other shore, and even if I should somehow meet them beyond the gates of death, none of us would ever know... but I lived, and I was in Avalon, and it was my task now to be Lady there." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I do not know how many years I dwelt in Avalon before the end. I remember only that I floated in avast and nameless peace, beyond joy and sorrow, knowing only serenity and the little tasks of everyday. Niniane stood ever at my side; and I came, too, to know Nimue, who had grown to a tall, silent, fair-haired maiden, as fair as Elaine when first I knew her. She became tome the daughter I had never known, and day after day she came tome, and I taught her all those things I had learned from Viviane in my own early years in Avalon.\n\nIn those last days, too, there were some who had seen the tree of the Holy Thorn in its first flowering for the followers of Christ, and worshipped their Christian God in peace, seeking not to drive out the beauty of the world, but loving it as God made it. In those days they came in numbers to Avalon to escape the harsh and shrivelling winds of persecution and bigotry. Patricius had setup new forms of worship, a view of the world wherein there was no room for the real beauty and mystery of the things of nature. From these Christians who came to us to escape the bigotry of their own kind I learned something, at last, of the Nazarene, the carpenter's son who had attained Godhead in his own life and preached a rule of tolerance; and so I came to see that my quarrel was never with the Christ, but with his foolish and narrow priests who mistook their own narrowness for his.\n\nI know not whether it was three years, or Jive, or even ten, before the end. I heard whispers of the outside world like shadows, like the echo of the church bells we heard sometimes even on that shore. I knew when Uriens died, but I did not mourn him; he had been dead tome for many years, but I could hope that in the end he had found some healing for his griefs. He had been kind tome as best he might, and so let him rest." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Now and again some rumor of Arthur's deeds and those of the knights would come tome, but in the serenity of Avalon it seemed not to matter; those deeds sounded like old tales and legends, so that I never knew whether they spoke of Arthur and Cai and Lancelet, or of Llyr and the children of Da'ana; or when tales were whispered of the love of Lancelet and Gwenhwyfar, or later, of Marcus' wife, Isotta, and young Drustan, they were not after all retelling some old tale of Diarmid and Grainne from the ancient days. It seemed not to matter, it seemed that I had heard all these tales long ago in my childhood.\n\nAnd then, one spring when the land lay beautiful before us and the first apple trees of Avalon were white with blossom, Raven broke silence with a cry, and perforce my mind returned to the things of that world I had hoped to leave forever behind.\n\nThe sword, the sword of the Mysteries is gone... now look to the cup, now look to all of the Holy Regalia... it is gone, it is gone, taken from us....\"\n\nMorgaine heard the cry out of sleep, and yet, when she tiptoed to the door of the room where Raven slept, alone and in silence as ever, the women who attended her slept; they had not heard that cry.\n\n\"But there is nothing but silence, Lady,\" they told her. \"Are you certain it was not an evil dream?\"\n\n\"If it was an evil dream, then it came to the priestess Raven as well,\" Morgaine said, staring at the untroubled faces of the girls. It seemed to her that with every passing year, the priestesses in the House of Maidens grew younger and more like children... how could little girls like this be entrusted with the holy things? Maidens whose breasts had scarcely formed... what could they know of the life of the Goddess which was the life of the world?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Again, it seemed, that shattering cry rang through Avalon, rousing alarm everywhere, but when Morgaine asked, \"There-did you hear?\" they looked at her again in dismay and said, \"Do you dream now, Lady, with your eyes wide open?\" and Morgaine realized that in the bitter cry of terror and grief there had been no actual sound.\n\nShe said, \"I will go to her-\"\n\n\"But you may not do that-\" one of them began, then stepped back, her mouth open, as she realized the full meaning of who Morgaine was, and she bent her head as Morgaine stepped past her.\n\nRaven was sitting up in bed, her longhair flung about her in mad disarray, and her eyes wild with terror; fora moment Morgaine thought that indeed her mind had overheard some evil dream, that Raven walked in the worlds of dream....\n\nBut she shook her head and then she was wide awake and sober. She drew along breath, and Morgaine knew that she was struggling to speak, to overcome the years of silence; now it was as if her voice would not obey her.\n\nAt last, trembling allover, she said, \"I saw-I saw it... treachery, Morgaine, within the very holy places of Avalon.... I could not see his face, but I saw the great sword Excalibur in his hand...\"\n\nMorgaine putout a hand, quieting her. She said, \"We will look within the mirror when the sunrises. Do not trouble yourself to speak, my dearest.\" Raven was still trembling; Morgaine put her hand firmly over Raven's, and by the flickering light of the torch, she saw that her own hand was lined and spotted with the dark spots of age, that Raven's fingers were like twisted ropes around the narrow, fine bones. We are old, she thought, both of us, who came here maidens in attendance on Viviane... ah Goddess, the years that pass...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But I must speak now,\" Raven whispered. \"I have been silent too long... I kept silence even when I feared this would come... listen to the thunder, and the rain-a storm is coming, a storm to break over Avalon and sweep it away in the flood... and darkness over the land...\"\n\n\"Hush, my dear! Be still,\" Morgaine whispered, and put her arms around the shaking woman, wondering if her mind had snapped, if this was all an illusion, a fever dream... there was no thunder, no rain, outside the moon was shining brilliantly over Avalon and the orchards white with blossom in the moonlight. \"Don't be frightened. I will stay herewith you, and in the morning we shall look into the mirror and see if any of this is real.\"\n\nRaven smiled, a sad smile. She took Morgaine's torch and put it out; in the sudden darkness Morgaine could see, through the chinks in the wattle, a sudden flare of lightning in the distance. Silence; and then, very faraway, a low thundering. \"I do not dream, Morgaine. The storm will come, and I am afraid. You have more courage than I. You have lived in the world and known real sorrows, not dreams... but now, perhaps, I must go forth and break silence forevermore... and I am afraid....\"\n\nMorgaine lay down beside her, pulling Raven's cover over them both, and took Raven in her arms to still her shaking. As she lay quiet, listening to the other woman's breathing, she remembered the night she had brought Nimue there, and how Raven had come to her then, welcoming her to Avalon... why does it seem tome now that of all the love I have known, that is the truest... but she only held Raven gently, the other woman's head on her shoulder, soothing her. After along time there was a great clap of thunder, startling them, and Raven whispered, \"You see?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Hush, my dear, it is only a storm.\" And as she spoke the rain came down, rushing and rattling, bringing a chilly wind within the room, drowning speech. Morgaine lay silent, her fingers just entwined with Raven's, and thought, It is only a storm, but something of Raven's terror communicated itself to her and she felt herself shivering too.\n\nA storm that will drive down out of Heaven and smash into Camelot, and scatter the years of peace that Arthur has made in this land...\n\nShe tried to call the Sight to her, but the thunder seemed to drown thoughts; she could only lie close to Raven repeating to herself again and again, It is only a storm, a storm, rain and wind and thunder, it is not the wrath of the Goddess....\n\nAFTER ALONG TIME the storm subsided, and she woke to a world new-washed, the sky pallid and cloudless, water shimmering on every leaf and raining down from every blade of grass, as if the world had been dipped in water and not dried or shaken. If Raven's storm were to break in truth over Camelot, would it leave the world thus beautiful in its wake? Somehow she thought not.\n\nRaven woke and looked at her, wide-eyed with dread. Morgaine said, quiet and practical as always, \"We shall go to Niniane at once, then to the mirror before the sunrises. If the wrath of the Goddess is to descend onus, we must know how and why.\"\n\nRaven gestured her silent assent, but when they were dressed and about to leave the house, Raven touched Morgaine's arm. \"Go to Niniane,\" she whispered, with the racking struggle to make her unused voice do her bidding. \"I will bring-Nimue. She too is part of this....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Fora moment Morgaine was startled almost to protest; then, with a glance at the paling sky in the east, she went. It might be that Raven had seen, in the evil dream of prophecy, the reason that Nimue had been brought here and kept in seclusion. Remembering the day when Viviane had told her of her own mission, she thought, Poor girl! But it was the will of the Goddess, they were all in her hands. As she went silent and alone through the wet orchard, she could see that all was not so calm and beautiful after all... the wind had ravaged the blossoms and the orchard lay under a white drift like snow; there would belittle fruit this autumn.\n\nWe may plant the grain and till the soil. But only her favor brings the fruit to harvest....\n\nWhy then do I trouble myself? It will be as she wills....\n\nNiniane, roused from sleep, looked at her as if she were mad. She is no true priestess, Morgaine thought; the Merlin spoke the truth-she was chosen only because she was Taliesin's kin. The time has come, perhaps, to stop pretending who is truly the Lady of Avalon and take my proper place. She did not want to offend Niniane, or seem to strive for power and set the younger woman down, she had had enough of power... but no true priestess, chosen of the Goddess, could have slept through Raven's cry. Yet somehow this woman before her had passed through the ordeals which go to the making of a priestess; the Goddess had not rejected her. What would the Goddess have her do?\n\n\"I tell you, Niniane, I have seen it and so has Raven... we must look before sunrise into the mirror!\"\n\n\"I put not much faith in such things, either,\" said Niniane quietly. \"What must come, will surely come... but if you will, Morgaine, I will go with you-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Silent, like spots of blackness in the white and watery world, they moved toward the mirror below the Sacred Well." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And as they went Morgaine could see, like a shadow at the corner of her eyes, the tall silent form of Raven, veiled, and Nimue like a pale shadow, all blossom and pale flowers like the morning. Morgaine was struck at the girl's beauty-even Gwenhwyfar in the fullest flush of her youth had never been so beautiful. She felt a wild stab of pure jealousy and anguish. I had no such gift from the Goddess in return for all I must sacrifice...\n\nNiniane said, \"Nimue is a maiden. It is she who must look into the mirror.\"\n\nTheir four dark forms were reflected in the pallid surface of the pool, against the pale reflection of the sky, where a few pale-pink streaks were beginning to herald the sunrise. Nimue moved to the edge of the pool, parting her long fair hair with both hands, and Morgaine found herself seeing in her mind the surface of a silver bowl, and Viviane's stilled, hypnotic face....\n\nNimue said in a low, wandering voice, \"What would you that I should see, my mother?\"\n\nMorgaine waited for Raven to speak, but there was only silence. So Morgaine said at last, \"Has Avalon been breached and fallen victim to treachery? What has befallen the Holy Regalia?\"\n\nSilence. Only a few birds chirped softly in the trees, and the soft sound of water rippled, falling from the channel which overflowed from the Well to make this still pool. Below them on the slopes Morgaine could seethe white drifts of the ruined orchards, and high above, the pale shapes of the ring stones atop the Tor.\n\nSilence. At last Nimue stirred and whispered, \"I cannot see his face...\" and the pool rippled, and it seemed that Morgaine could see a hunched form, moving slowly and with difficulty... the room where she had stood silent that day behind Viviane, when Taliesin laid Excalibur in Arthur's hand and she heard his voice forbidding..." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No-it is death to touch the Holy Regalia unprepared....\" Fora moment Morgaine could hear the voice of Taliesin, not Nimue's voice... but he had the right, he was the Merlin of Britain, and he took them from the hiding place, spear and cup and dish, and hiding the holy things under his cloak, he went out and across the Lake to where Excalibur gleamed in the darkness... the Holy Regalia now reunited.\n\n\"Merlin!\" whispered Niniane aloud. \"But why?\"\n\nMorgaine knew her face was like stone as she said, \"Once he spoke of this tome. He said that Avalon was now outside the world, and that the holy things must be within the world to the service of man and the Gods, by whatever name men called them....\"\n\n\"He would profane them,\" Niniane said hotly, \"and put them to the use of that God who would drive out all other Gods....\"\n\nIn the silence, Morgaine heard the chanting of monks. Then the sunlight touched the mirror and turned it all to shooting fire which flooded her head and eyes, burning, blazing, and in the glare of the rising sun it seemed as if all the world burned in the light of a naming cross.... She shut her eyes, covering her face with her hands.\n\n\"Let them go, Morgaine,\" whispered Raven. \"The Goddess will certainly care for her own. . ^ .\"\n\nAgain Morgaine could hear the chanting of the monks-Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison... Lord, have mercy, Christ, have mercy.... The Holy Regalia were but tokens, surely the Goddess had let this befall them as a sign that Avalon needed these things no more, that they should go into the world and be in the service of men...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The flaming cross burned still before Morgaine's eyes; she covered them and turned away from the light. \"Even I cannot abrogate the Merlin's vow. He swore a great oath and made the Great Marriage with the land in the King's stead, and now he is forsworn and his life forfeit. But before Ideal with the traitor, I must deal with the treachery. The Regalia must be returned to Avalon, even if I must bring them hither again with my own hands. I will go forth to Camelot at dawn.\" And she suddenly saw her plan complete as Nimue whispered, \"Must I go forth too? Is it mine to avenge the Goddess?\"\n\nShe, Morgaine, would deal with the Holy Regalia. They had been left in her care, and if only she had taken her proper place here instead of revelling in sorrow and considering her own comfort, this could never have come to pass. But Nimue should be the instrument of the traitor's punishment.\n\nKevin had never seen Nimue. Of all those who dwelt on Avalon, the Merlin had never seen that one who dwelt in seclusion and silence. And as always transpires when the Goddess brings down punishment, it should be the Merlin's own undefended fortresses which should bring him to ruin.\n\nShe said slowly, clenching her fists... how had she ever softened to that traitor?...\"You shall go forth to Camelot, Nimue. You are Queen Gwenhwyfar's cousin and the daughter of Lancelet. You will beg her that you may dwell among her ladies, and beg her to keep it secret, even from King Arthur, that you have ever dwelt in Avalon. Pretend even, if you must, that you have become a Christian. And there you will come to know the Merlin. He has a great weakness. He believes that women shun him because he is ugly and because he is lame. And for the woman who shows no fear or revulsion of him, for that woman who shows him again the manhood he craves and fears, he will do anything, he would give his very life.... Nimue,\" she said, looking straight into the girl's frightened eyes, \"you will seduce him to your bed. You will bind him to you with such spells that he is your slave, body and soul.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"And then-\" said Nimue, trembling, \"what then?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Must I kill him?\"\n\nMorgaine would have spoken, but Niniane spoke first.\n\n\"Such death as you could give would be all too swift for such a traitor. You must bring him, enchanted, to Avalon, Nimue. And there he shall die a traitor's cursed death within the oak grove.\"\n\nTrembling, Morgaine knew what fate awaited him-to be flayed alive, then thrust living within the cleft of the oak, and the opening stopped with wattle and daub, leaving only enough space so that his breath would not fail, lest he die too quickly.... She bowed her head, trying to conceal her shudder. The blinding sun was gone from the water; the sky dripped with pale dawn clouds. Niniane said, \"Our work is done here. Come, Mother-\" but Morgaine pulled herself free.\n\n\"Not done-I too must go forth for Camelot. I must know to what use the traitor has put the Holy Regalia.\" She sighed; she had hoped never again to go forth from the shore of Avalon, but there was no other to do what must be done.\n\nRaven putout her hand. She was shaking so terribly that Morgaine feared she would fall; and now she whispered, her ruined voice only a distant hiss and scratching like wind against dead branches, \"I too must go... it is my fate, that I shall not lie where all those before me have lain in the enchanted country... I ride with you, Morgaine.\"\n\n\"No, no, Raven,\" Morgaine protested. \"Not you!\" Raven had never set foot off Avalon, not in fifty years... surely she could not survive the journey! But nothing she could say shook Raven's determination; shivering with terror, she was adamant: she had seen her destiny and must go with Morgaine at any cost." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Extend the plot as the writer's co-author.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 13" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"And then-\" said Nimue, trembling, \"what then?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Must I kill him?\"\n\nMorgaine would have spoken, but Niniane spoke first.\n\n\"Such death as you could give would be all too swift for such a traitor. You must bring him, enchanted, to Avalon, Nimue. And there he shall die a traitor's cursed death within the oak grove.\"\n\nTrembling, Morgaine knew what fate awaited him-to be flayed alive, then thrust living within the cleft of the oak, and the opening stopped with wattle and daub, leaving only enough space so that his breath would not fail, lest he die too quickly.... She bowed her head, trying to conceal her shudder. The blinding sun was gone from the water; the sky dripped with pale dawn clouds. Niniane said, \"Our work is done here. Come, Mother-\" but Morgaine pulled herself free.\n\n\"Not done-I too must go forth for Camelot. I must know to what use the traitor has put the Holy Regalia.\" She sighed; she had hoped never again to go forth from the shore of Avalon, but there was no other to do what must be done.\n\nRaven putout her hand. She was shaking so terribly that Morgaine feared she would fall; and now she whispered, her ruined voice only a distant hiss and scratching like wind against dead branches, \"I too must go... it is my fate, that I shall not lie where all those before me have lain in the enchanted country... I ride with you, Morgaine.\"\n\n\"No, no, Raven,\" Morgaine protested. \"Not you!\" Raven had never set foot off Avalon, not in fifty years... surely she could not survive the journey! But nothing she could say shook Raven's determination; shivering with terror, she was adamant: she had seen her destiny and must go with Morgaine at any cost." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But I am not going as Niniane would travel, in the pomp of priestess garb, in the litter of Avalon, riding instate to Camelot,\" she argued. \"I am going in disguise as an old peasant woman, as Viviane travelled so often in the old days.\" But Raven shook her head and said, \"Any road you can travel, Morgaine, I too can travel.\"\n\nMorgaine still felt a deadly fear-not for herself, but for Raven. But she said, \"Be it so,\" and they made ready to ride. And later that day they took their secret ways out of Avalon, Nimue travelling instate as the kinswoman of the Queen, riding on the main roads, and Morgaine and Raven, wrapped in the somber rags of beggar women, out of Avalon by the back ways and side roads, making their way on foot toward Camelot.\n\nRaven was stronger than Morgaine had believed; as they made their way, day by day, slow-paced and afoot, at times it seemed that she was the stronger. They begged broken meats at farm doors, they stole a bit of bread left fora dog at the back of a farmstead, they slept once in a deserted villa and one night beneath a haystack. And on that last night, for the first time on their silent journey, Raven spoke.\n\n\"Morgaine,\" she said, when they were lying side by side, wrapped in their cloaks, under the shadow of the hay, \"tomorrow is Easter at Camelot, and we must be thereat dawn.\"\n\nMorgaine would have asked why, but she knew Raven could give her no answer but this-that she had seen it as their fate. And so she answered, \"Then we shall leave here before dawn. It is no more than an hour's walk from here-we might have kept walking and slept in the shadow of Camelot, if you had told me this before, Raven.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I could not,\" Raven whispered." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I was afraid.\" And Morgaine knew that the other woman was weeping in the darkness. \"I am so frightened, Morgaine, so frightened!\"\n\nMorgaine said brusquely, \"I told you that you should have remained in Avalon!\"\n\n\"But I had the work of the Goddess to do,\" whispered Raven. \"In all these years I have dwelt in the shelter of Avalon, and now it is Ceridwen, our Mother, who demands my all in return for all the shelter and safety I have had from her... but I am afraid, so afraid. Morgaine, hold me, hold me, I am so frightened-\"\n\nMorgaine clasped her close and kissed her, rocking her like a child. Then, as if they entered together into a great silence, she held Raven against her, touching her, caressing her, their bodies clinging together in something like frenzy. Neither spoke, but Morgaine felt the world trembling in a strange and sacramental rhythm around them, in no light but the darkness of the dark side of the moon-woman to woman, affirming life in the shadow of death. As maiden and man in the light of the spring moon and the Beltane fires affirmed life in the running of spring and the rutting which would bring death in the field to him and death in childbearing to her; so in the shadow and darkness of the sacrificed god, in the dark moon, the priestesses of Avalon together called on the life of the Goddess and in the silence she answered them.... They lay at last quiet in each other's arms, and Raven's weeping was stilled at last. She lay like death, and Morgaine, feeling her heart slowing to stillness, thought, I must let her go even into the shadow of death if that is the will of the Goddess.... And she could not even weep." }, { "from": "human", "value": "NO ONE took the slightest notice of two peasant women, no longer young, in the turmoil and tumult about the gates of Camelot this morning." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine was used to this; Raven, who had lived so long in seclusion even on quiet Avalon, turned white as bone and tried to hide herself under her ragged shawl. Morgaine also kept her own shawl about her-there were some who would recognize the lady Morgaine, even with her hair streaked with white and in the garb of a peasant woman.\n\nA drover striding through the yard with a calf ran into Raven and came near to knocking her down, and he cursed her when she only stared at him in dismay. Morgaine said quickly, \"My sister is deaf and dumb,\" and his face changed.\n\n\"Ah, poor thing-look, go up by there, they're giving everybody a good dinner at the lower end of the King's hall. You two can creep in at that door and watch them when they come in-the King's got some big thing planned with one of the priests in the hall today. You'll be from upcountry and not know his ways? Well, everyone in this countryside knows that he makes it a custom-he never sits down to his great feasts unless there's some great marvel arranged, and we heard today that there is to be something truly marvelous.\"\n\nI doubt it not, Morgaine thought disdainfully, but she only thanked the man in the rough country dialect she had used before and drew Raven along with her toward the lower hall, which was filling rapidly-King Arthur's generosity on feast days was well known, and this would be the best dinner many people had all year. There was a smell of roasting meat in the air, and most of the people jostling round her commented greedily on it. As for Morgaine, it only made her feel sick, and after one look at Raven's white terrified face, she decided to withdraw." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She should not have come. It was I who failed to seethe danger to the Holy Regalia; it was I who failed to see that the Merlin was traitor. And when I have done what I must do, how will I manage to flee to Avalon with Raven in this condition?\n\nShe found a corner where they would be disregarded, but where they could see reasonably well what was happening. At the higher end of the room was the great mead-hall table, the Round Table which was already almost legendary in the countryside, with the great dais for the King and Queen, and the painted names of Arthur's Companions over their customary places. On the walls hung brilliant banners. And after years spent in the austerity of Avalon, this all seemed gaudy and garish to Morgaine.\n\nAfter along time there was astir, and then the sound of trumpets somewhere, and a whisper ran through the jostling crowd. Morgaine thought, It will be strange to seethe court from outside, after being apart of it for so long! Cai was opening the great doors to the upper end of the hall, and Morgaine shrank-Cai would know her, whatever garb she wore! But why should he even look in her direction?\n\nHow many years had she spent quietly drifting in Avalon? She had no idea. But Arthur seemed even taller, more majestic, his hair so fair that no one could have told whether or no there were silver strands among the carefully combed curls. Gwenhwyfar, too, although her breasts sagged under the elaborate gown, bore herself upright and seemed slim as ever.\n\n\"Look how young the Queen looks,\" muttered one of Morgaine's neighbors, \"yet Arthur married her the year I had my first son, and look at me.\" Morgaine glanced at the speaker, bent and toothless, stooped like a bent bow. \"I heard that witch sister of the King, Morgaine of the Fairies, gave them both spells to keep their youth....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Spells or no,\" mumbled another toothless crone tartly, \"if Queen Gwenhwyfar had to muck out a byre night and morning, and bear a babe every year and suckle it in good times and bad, there'd be none of that beauty left, bless her! Things areas they are, but I wish some priest'ud tell me why she gets all the good in life and I get all the misery?\"\n\n\"Stop grumbling,\" said the first speaker. \"You'll have your belly full today, and get to see all the lords and ladies, and you know what the old Druids used to say about why things are what they are. Queen Gwenhwyfar up there gets fine gowns and jewels and a queen's business because she did good in her last lives, and the likes of you and me are poor and ugly because we were ignorant, and someday, if we mind what we do in this life, there's a better fortune for us too.\"\n\n\"Oh, aye,\" grunted the other old woman, \"priests and Druids are all alike. The Druid says that, and the priest says if we do our duty in this life we'll go to Heaven and live with Jesus and feast with him there and never comeback to this wicked world at all! It all winds up the same, whatever the lot of them say-some are born in misery and die in misery, and others have it all their own way!\"\n\n\"But she's none so happy, I've heard,\" said another of the group of old women wedged in together. \"For all her queening it, she's never borne a single babe, and I have a good son to work the farm for me, and one daughter married to the man at the next farm, and another who's servant to the nuns on Glastonbury. And Queen Gwenhwyfar has had to adopt sir Galahad there, who's the son of Lancelet and of her own cousin Elaine, for Arthur's heir!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh, aye, that's what they tell you,\" said a fourth old woman, \"but you know and I know, when Queen Gwenhwyfar was absent from court in the sixth or seventh year of his reign-something like that-don't you think they were all counting on their fingers? My stepbrother's wife was a kitchen woman here at court, and he said it was common talk all round here that the Queen spent her nights in another bed than her husband's-\"\n\n\"Keep quiet, old gossip,\" said the first speaker. \"Just let one of the chamberlains hear you say that aloud, and you'll be ducked in the pond fora scold! I say Galahad's a good knight and he'll make a good king, long live King Arthur! And who cares who his mother is? I think meself he's one of Arthur's by-blows-he's fair like him. And look yonder at sir Mordred-everybody knows he's the King's bastard son by some harlot or other.\"\n\n\"I heard worse than that,\" said one of the women. \"I heard Mordred's the son of one of the fairy witches and Arthur took him to court in pawn for his soul, to live a hundred years-you'll see, he'll not age, sir Mordred there. Just look at Arthur, he must be past fifty and he could be a man in his thirties!\"\n\nAnother old woman spoke a barnyard obscenity. \"What's it tome, all of that? If the Devil were about businesslike that, he could have made yonder Mordred in Arthur's own image so anyone could accept him as Arthur's son! Arthur's mother was of the old blood of Avalon-did you never seethe lady Morgaine? She was dark too, and Lancelet, who's his kin, was like that.... I'd rather believe what they said before, that Mordred is Lancelet's bastard son by the lady Morgaine! You've only got to look at them-and the lady Morgaine pretty enough in her way, little and dark as she was.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"She's not among the ladies,\" one of the women remarked, and the woman who had known a kitchen woman at court said authoritatively, \"Why, she quarreled with Arthur and went away to the land of Fairy, but everybody knows that on All Hallows Night she flies round the castle on a hazel twig and anyone who catches sight of her will be struck blind.\"\n\nMorgaine buried her face in her ragged cloak to smother a giggle. Raven, hearing, turned an indignant face to Morgaine, but Morgaine shook her head; they must keep still and not be noticed.\n\nThe knights were seating themselves in their accustomed places. Lancelet, as he took his seat, raised his head, looking sharply round the hall, and fora moment it seemed to Morgaine that he sought her out where she stood, that his eyes met hers-shivering, she ducked her head. Chamberlains were moving at both ends of the hall, pouring wine for the Companions and their ladies, pouring good brown beer from great leather jacks down among the peasants crowded in at the lower end. Morgaine held out her cup and Raven's, and when Raven refused, she said in a harsh whisper, \"Drink it! You look like death, and you must be strong enough for whatever is coming.\" Raven put the wooden cup to her lips and sipped, but she could hardly swallow. The woman who had said that the lady Morgaine was pretty enough in her way asked, \"Is she sick, your sister?\"\n\nMorgaine said, \"She is frightened, she has never seen the court before.\"\n\n\"Fine, aren't they, the lords and ladies? What a spectacle! And we'll get a good dinner soon,\" said the woman to Raven. \"Hey, doesn't she hear?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"She is not deaf, but dumb,\" Morgaine said again. \"I think maybe she understands a little of what I say to her, but no one else.\"\n\n\"Now you come to speak of it, she does look simpleminded, at that,\" said the other woman, and patted Raven on the head like a dog. \"Has she always been like that? What a pity, and you have to look after her. You're a good woman. Sometimes when children are like that, their folks tie them to a treelike astray dog, and here you take her to court and all. Look at the priest in his gold robes! That's the bishop Patricius, they say he drove all the snakes out of his own country... think of that! Do you think he fought them with sticks?\"\n\n\"It's away of saying he drove out all the Druids-they are called serpents of wisdom,\" Morgaine said.\n\n\"How'd the likes of you know a thing like that?\" Morgaine's interrogator scoffed. \"I heard for sure that it was snakes, and anyhow all those wise folk, Druids and priests, they hang together, they wouldn't quarrel!\"\n\n\"Very likely,\" said Morgaine, not wanting to draw further attention to herself, her eyes going to Bishop Patricius. Behind him there was someone in the robes of a monk-a hunched figure, bent over and moving with difficulty-now what was the Merlin doing in the bishop's train? She said, her need to know overcoming the risk of attracting attention, \"What's going to happen? I thought surely they would have heard their mass in the chapel this morning, all the lords and ladies-\"\n\n\"I heard,\" said one of the women, \"that since the chapel would hold so few, there would be a special mass here today for all the folk before meat-see, the bishop's men carrying in that altar with the white cloth and all. Sssshh-listen!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine felt that she would go mad with rage and despair. Were they going to profane the Holy Regalia beyond any possibility of cleansing, by using it to serve a Christian mass?\n\n\"Draw near, all ye people,\" the bishop was atoning, \"for today the old order giveth way to the new. Christ has triumphed overall the old and pretended Gods who shall now be subservient to his name. For the True Christ said unto mankind, I am the Way and the Truth and the Life. Also he said, No man may come to the Father except he come in my name, for there is no other name under Heaven in which you maybe saved. And by that token, then, all those things which once were devoted to false Gods before mankind had knowledge of the truth, now shall be devoted to Christ and newly dedicated in service to the True God....\"\n\nBut Morgaine heard no more; suddenly she knew what they were planning to do-No! I am sworn to the Goddess. I must not allow this blasphemy! She turned and touched Raven's arm; even here, in the midst of this crowded hall, they were open one to the other. They would use the Holy Regalia of the Goddess to summon the Presence... which is One... but they would do it in the narrow name of that Christ who calls all Gods demons, unless they invoke in his name!\n\nThe cup the Christians use in their mass is the invocation of water, even as the plate whereon they lay their holy bread is the sacred dish of the element of earth. Now, using the ancient things of the Goddess, they would invoke their own narrow God; yet instead of the pure water of the holy earth, coming from the clear crystal spring of the Goddess, they have defiled her chalice with wine!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In the cup of the Goddess, O Mother, is the cauldron of Ceridwen, wherein all men are nourished and from which all men have all the good things of this world. You have called upon the Goddess, O ye willful priests, but will you dare her presence if she should come? Morgaine clasped her hands in the most fervent invocation of her life. I am thy priestess, O Mother! Use me, I pray, as you will!\n\nShe felt the rushing downward of power, felt herself standing taller, taller, as the power flooded through her body and soul and filled her; she was no longer conscious of Raven's hands holding her upright, filling her like the chalice with the sacred wine of the holy presence....\n\nShe moved forward and saw Patricius, stunned, drawback before her. She had no fear, and though she knew it was death to touch the Holy Regalia unprepared-how, she wondered in a remote corner of her waking mind, did Kevin manage to prepare the bishop? Had he betrayed that secret too? She knew with certainty that all her life had been preparation for this moment when, as the Goddess herself, she raised the cup between her hands.\n\nAfterward, she heard, some said that they saw the Holy Chalice borne round the room by a maiden clothed in shimmering white; others said that they heard a great rushing wind fill the hall, and a sound of many harps. Morgaine knew only that she lifted the cup between her hands, seeing it glow like a great sparkling jewel, a ruby, a living, beating heart pulsing between her hands... she moved toward the bishop and he fell to his knees before her as she whispered, \"Drink. This is the Holy Presence....\"\n\nHe drank, and briefly she wondered what it was that he saw, but then he fell away behind her as she moved on, or the cup itself moved, drawing her with it... she could not tell. She heard a sound as of many wings, rushing before her, and she smelled a sweetness that was neither incense nor perfume.... The chalice, some said later, was invisible; others said that it shone like a great star which blinded every eye that looked on it.... Every person in that hall found his plate filled with such things as he liked best to eat... again and again later she heard that tale, and by that token she knew that what she had borne was the cauldron of Ceridwen. But for the other tales she had no explanation, and needed none. She is the Goddess, she will do as she will...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As she moved before Lancelet she heard him whisper in awe, \"Is it you, Mother? Or do I dream?...\" and set the cup to his lips, filled with overflowing tenderness; today she was mother to them all. Even Arthur knelt before her as the cup briefly passed before his lips.\n\nI am all things-Virgin and Mother and she who gives life and death. Ignore meat your peril, ye who call on other Names... know ye that I am One.... Of all those in that great hall, only Nimue, she thought, had recognized her, had looked up in astonished recognition; yes, Nimue too had been reared to know the Goddess, whatever form she might take. \"You too, my child,\" she whispered with infinite compassion, and Nimue knelt to drink, and Morgaine felt somewhere through her the surging of lust and vengeance, and thought, Yes, this too is apart of me....\n\nMorgaine faltered, felt Raven's strength bearing her up... was Raven beside her, holding the cup? Or was it illusion, was Raven still crouching in her corner, holding her upright with a flow of strength which poured through them both into the Goddess bearing the cup...? Later, Morgaine never knew whether in truth she had borne the chalice or whether that, too, had been part of the vast magic she had woven for the Goddess... yet it seemed to her, still, that she bore the cup around the great hall, that every man and every woman there knelt and drank, that the sweetness and the bliss flooded her, that she walked as if borne along on those great wings she could hear... and then Mordred's face was before her.\n\nI am not your mother, I am the Mother of All....\n\nGalahad was white, overawed. Did he see it as the cup of life or as the holy chalice of Christ? Did it matter? Gareth, Gawaine, Lucan, Bedivere, Palomides, Cai... all the old Companions and many she did not recognize, and it seemed at the last that they walked somewhere beyond the spaces of the world, and all of those who had ever been among them, even those who had passed beyond this world, came to commune with them at the Round Table this day-Ectorius, Lot, dead years since at Mount Badon; young Drustan, murdered in jealous rage by Marcus; Lionel; Bors; Balin and Balan hand in hand, like brothers again past the gates of death... all those who had ever gathered here around the Round Table, past and present, today were gathered herein this moment beyond time, even at last before the wise eyes of Taliesin. And then it was Kevin kneeling before her, the cup to his lips..." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Even you. I forgive all this day... whatever may come in the times yet to be seen....\n\nAt last she raised the chalice to her own lips and drank. The water of the Sacred Well was sweet on her lips, and though she saw now all the others in the hall eating and drinking, somehow it seemed, when she took a bite of bread, that on her lips it was the soft honey bannock that Igraine had baked for her when she was a child in Tintagel.\n\nShe replaced the cup on the altar, where it shone like a star...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Now! Now, Raven, the Great Magic! It took all the strength of all the Druids to shift Avalon from this world, but now we need not do so much... the cup and the dish and the spear must go... they must go from this world forever, safely into Avalon, never again to be touched or profaned by mortal men. Never again may they be used for our own magic among the ring stones, for they have been defied by their moments on a Christian altar. But never again will they be profaned by priests of a narrow God who would deny all other truths....\n\nShe felt Raven's touch, hands gripping hers, and it seemed to her that beyond Raven's hands she felt other hands, she knew not whose... and in the hall it seemed as if the great wings napped fora final time and a great rushing windswept through the hall and was gone. White daylight broke into the room, and the altar was bare and empty, and the white cloth was crumpled and lying there untenanted. She could seethe pale terrified face of Bishop Patricius.\n\n\"God has visited us,\" he whispered, \"and today we have drunk of the wine of life by the Holy Grail....\"\n\nGawaine leaped to his feet. \"But who has stolen away the holy vessel?\" he cried. \"We have seen it veiled... I swear I shall go forth to find it and bring it again to this court! And on this quest I shall spend a twelvemonth and a day, till I see it more clearly than here....\"\n\nOf course it would have to be Gawaine, thought Morgaine, always first to set himself face to face with the unknown! Yet he had played into her hands. Galahad stood up, pale and shining with excitement." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"A twelvemonth, sir Gawaine? I swear that I shall spend all my life, if need be, till I seethe Grail clear before me....\"\n\nArthur held out his hand and tried to speak, but the fever had caught them all and they were crying out, pledging themselves, all talking at once.\n\nThere is now no other cause so dear to their hearts, Morgaine thought. The wars have been won, there is peace in the land. Between wars, even the Caesars had the sense to set their legions to the building of roads and the conquest of new lands. Now this quest, they think, will unite them again in the old fervor. Once again they are the Companions of the Round Table, but this will scatter them to the four winds... in the name of that God you would set above Avalon, Arthur! The Goddess works as she will....\n\nMordred had risen and was speaking, but Morgaine had eyes now only for Raven, fallen to the floor. All round her the old peasant women were still chattering about the fine foods and drink they had tasted under the spell of the cauldron.\n\n\"White wine it was, rich and sweet as fresh honey and grapes... I never tasted it but once, years ago...\"\n\n\"Plum cake I had, stuffed with raisins and plums and a sauce of rich red wine... I never had anything so good...\"\n\nBut Raven lay silent, white as death, and when Morgaine bent to her, she knew what she had already known when she first saw her lying there. The weight of that Great Magic had been too much for the terrified woman; she had held firm, buoyed by the Great Magic, until the Grail had gone away to Avalon, all her own strength poured out selflessly to strengthen Morgaine in the work of the Goddess; and then, that strength withdrawn, her life had gone with it. Morgaine held her close, in wild grief and despair." }, { "from": "human", "value": "I have killed her too." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Truly, truly, now have I killed the last one I had to love.... Mother, Goddess, why could it not have been me? I have nothing more to live for, no one to love, and Raven has never harmed a living soul, never, never....\n\nMorgaine saw Nimue comedown from her high seat beside the Queen and speak with the Merlin, her look warm and sweet, and lay a confiding hand on his arm. Arthur was speaking with Lancelet, the tears streaming down both their faces; she saw them embrace and kiss as they had not done since they were boys. Arthur left him then, and walked down into the lower end of the hall, moving among his subjects.\n\n\"Is all well, my people?\"\n\nAll were speaking to him about the magical feast, but as he came nearer someone called out, \"Here's an old deaf and dumb woman, my lord Arthur, dead-the excitement was just too much for her!\"\n\nArthur walked to where Raven lay lifeless in Morgaine's arms. Morgaine did not raise her head. Would he recognize her, cry out, accuse her of witchcraft...?\n\nHis voice was gentle and familiar, but distant. Of course, she thought, he is not speaking now to sister or priestess or equal, he sees no more than a crouching old peasant woman, white-haired, clad in rags. \"Your sister, my good woman? I am sorry this has come to you at a festival, but God has taken her at a blessed moment into the very arms of his own angel. Would you have her lie here for burial? She shall lie in the churchyard, if you wish.\"\n\nThe women around drew breath, and Morgaine knew this was, indeed, the highest charity he could offer. But her cloak still over her head, she said, \"No.\" And then, as if compelled, looked up into his eyes." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They had changed so much, both of them... she was old and burdened, but Arthur, too, had changed from the young King Stag....\n\nNot then nor ever did Morgaine know whether Arthur had recognized her. Their eyes met fora moment, then he said gently, \"Would you take her home then? Be it as you will, mother. Tell my stablemen to give you a horse-show them this.\" He put a ring into her hand. Morgaine bent her head, squeezing her eyes tight against tears, and when she raised it again, Arthur was gone.\n\n\"Here, I'll help ye carry her,\" said one of the women nearby, and then another, and they bore Raven's slight body from the hall. And Morgaine was tempted to look back into the hall of the Round Table, for she knew she would never see it again, nor ever set foot again upon Camelot.\n\nNow her work was done, and she would return to Avalon. But she would return alone. Now she would always be alone.\n\nGwenhwyfar watching the preparations in the hall, hearing Bishop Patricius' soft voice saying, No man may come to the Father Except he call upon my name, looked on the cup with mixed emotions. Half of her said, This beautiful thing should be dedicated, as Patricius wishes, to the service of Christ; even the Merlin has come at last to the cross.\n\nBut the other half of her insisted, quite against her will, No. It would have been better to destroy it, to meltdown the gold if need be, and fashion from it another chalice dedicated, from its first making, to the true service of the true God. For this one is of the Goddess, as they call her, and that same Goddess is that great harlot who has from the beginning of time been the enemy of God.... Truly the priests say, with woman came evil into this world, and then she was confused, for surely not all that is woman can be evil-even God chose a woman to bear his son, and Christ himself spoke of Heaven to his chosen disciples and their sisters and wives...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "One, at least, had forsaken that Goddess. She felt her face soften as she looked on Nimue-Elaine's daughter, and very like Elaine as a child, but even more beautiful, with something of the smiling gaiety and dancing grace of the younger Lancelet. So fair and sweet was Nimue, she could not believe anything of her was evil, yet this woman had served since childhood in the very house of the Goddess. And now she had repented of that evil service and come to Camelot, begging that no one should know that she had served in Avalon, not even Bishop Patricius. Not even Arthur. It would be hard, Gwenhwyfar thought, to refuse Nimue anything at all; she had willingly pledged herself to keep the young maiden's secret.\n\nShe looked past Nimue to where Patricius was standing, ready to take the cup with his hands. And then...\n\n... and then it seemed to Gwenhwyfar that a great angel, wings falling away in shadow behind the shining form, raised between its hands a cup that glowed like a great shining star. It was crimson like a beating heart, a glowing ruby... no, but it was the very blue of the deepest heaven, and there was ascent like all the roses of every garden she had ever entered in all her life. And a great clean-scented wind seemed suddenly to blow through the hall, and though they were at holy service, Gwenhwyfar suddenly felt that she could rise from her seat and run out of doors on the hills, into the great spaces which belonged to God, under his great wide healing sky. She knew, knew deep within her heart, that she would never again be afraid to leave the prison of chamber and hall; she could walk under the open sky and on the hills without fear, because wherever she might go, God would be with her. She smiled; disbelieving, she heard herself laugh aloud, and the small, once-prisoned thing within her asked angrily, At holy service? but the real Gwenhwyfar said, still laughing, though no one heard, If I may not take delight in God, then what is God tome?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And then, through the sweet scents and joy, the angel was before her and the cup at her lips. Shaking, she drank, lowering her eyes, but then she felt a touch on her head and looked up, and she saw that it was not an angel but a woman veiled in blue, with great sad eyes. There was no sound, but the woman said to her, Before Christ ever was, I am, and it was I who made you as you are. Therefore, my beloved daughter, forget all shame and be joyful because you, too, are of the same nature as myself.\n\nGwenhwyfar felt that her whole body and heart were made of pure joy. She had not been as happy as this since she was a little child. Even in Lancelet's arms she had never known this absolute bliss. Ah, could I only have brought this to my lover! She knew that the angel, or whatever Presence had touched her, had moved on, and she was saddened that it had withdrawn, but the joy was still pulsing inside her, and she looked up, with love, as the angel held the burning cup to Lancelet's lips. Ah, if only she can give you some of this joy, my sorrowing lover!\n\nThe fiery flames and the rushing wind filled the hall and were silenced. Gwenhwyfar ate and drank, although she never knew what it was, only that it was sweet and savorous; and she gave herself up to the delight of it. Surely whatever has come among us today, it is holy....\n\nSilence fell on the hall; it seemed bare and empty in the pale noonday, and Gawaine had risen, crying out. And after him Galahad.\n\n\"I swear that I shall spend all my life, if need be, till I seethe Grail clear before me....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Bishop Patricius looked faint, and she remembered that he was old; and the altar where the cup had lain was empty. She rose swiftly from her place and went to him.\n\n\"Father-\" she said, and held a cup of wine to his lips. He sipped, and as the color began to comeback into his lined face, he whispered, \"Surely something holy has come among us.... I was fed truly at the Lord's Table by the very cup from which he drank on that last holy night before he went to his Passion....\"\n\nGwenhwyfar was beginning to know what had happened-whatever had come to them that day by God's will was a vision. The bishop whispered, \"Did you see, my queen, the very cup of Christ...\"\n\nShe said gently, \"Alas no, dear Father, perhaps I was not worthy for that, but I saw an angel, I think, and I thought fora moment it was God's Holy Mother who stood before me....\"\n\n\"God has given us each a vision,\" said Patricius. \"How I have prayed that something might come among us, to inspire all these men with the love of the true vision of Christ....\"\n\nGwenhwyfar thought of the ancient proverb, Have a care what you pray for, it might be given you. Surely something had inspired these men. One after another they were rising, pledging to spend a year and a day searching, and she thought, All of the Round Table now is scattering to the four winds.\n\nShe looked at the altar where the chalice had lain. No, she thought, Bishop Patricius and Kevin the Merlin, you were wrong as Arthur was wrong. You cannot call down God to serve your own purposes this way. God blows through human purposes like a mighty wind, like the rush of angel's wings which I heard in this hall this day, and tears them asunder...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And then she wondered, What is wrong with me, that I am thinking to criticize Arthur or even the bishop for what they did? Yet then, with new strength, she thought, By God, yes! They are not God, they are only men, and their purposes are not sacred! She looked at Arthur, walking now among the peasants and subjects at the far end of the hall... down there something had happened, some peasant had fallen down dead, perhaps overfilled with the joy of the Holy Presence. He came walking back, looking sorrowful.\n\n\"Gawaine, must you go-Galahad-? Not you too, my son? Bors, Lionel-what, all of you?\"\n\n\"My lord Arthur,\" called out Mordred. He wore, as always, the crimson which suited him so well and which exaggerated, almost to the point of caricature, his likeness to the young Lancelet.\n\nArthur's voice was gentle, \"What is it, my dear boy?\"\n\n\"My king, I ask your permission not to goon this quest,\" he said. \"Though it maybe laid on all your knights, someone must remain at your side.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar felt an overflowing tenderness for the young man. Ah, this is Arthur's true son, not Galahad, all dreams and visions! Had there ever been a time when she had disliked and distrusted Mordred? She said, heartfelt, \"May God bless you, Mordred,\" and the young man smiled at her. Arthur bowed his head and said, \"Be it so, my son.\"\n\nIt was the first time Arthur had called him so before other men; Gwenhwyfar gauged his disturbance by that. \"God help us both, Gwydion-Mordred, I should say-with so many of my Companions scattered to the four corners of the world, and God alone can say whether or no they will ever return....\" He reached out and clasped Mordred's hands, and fora moment it seemed to Gwenhwyfar that he leaned on his son's strong arm." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Lancelet came to her side and bowed." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Lady, may I take my leave of you?\"\n\nIt seemed to Gwenhwyfar that tears were as near the surface as joy. \"Ah, love, must you goon this quest?\" and cared not who heard her speak the words. Arthur too looked troubled, holding out his hand to his cousin and friend. \"Will you leave us, Lancelet?\"\n\nHe nodded; there was something rapt, otherworldly, shining in his face. So it had come to him, too, that great joy? But why, then, did he need to go forth to seek it? Surely it was within him as well?\n\n\"All these years, my love,\" she said, \"have you told me that you are none so good a Christian as all that. Why then must you runaway from me on this quest?\"\n\nShe saw him struggling for words, and at last he said, \"All those years, I knew not whether God was nothing but an old tale told by the priests to frighten us. Now I have seen-\" He wet his lips again with his tongue, trying to find words for something beyond them. \"I have seen... something. If a vision such as this can be shown, whether of Christ or of the Devil-\"\n\n\"Surely,\" interrupted Gwenhwyfar, \"surely it came of God, Lancelet-\"\n\n\"So you say, for you have seen, you know,\" he said, holding her hand against his heart. \"I am not sure-methinks my mother mocked at me, or all Gods are one as Taliesin used to say-I am torn now between the darkness of never knowing, and the light beyond despair, which tells me-\" And again he fumbled for words. \"It was as if a great bell called tome, faraway, alight like to the faraway lights in the marsh, saying, Follow... and I know that the truth, the real truth, is there, there, just beyond my grasp, if I can only follow it and find it there and tearaway that veil which shrouds it... it is there if only I can reach it, my Gwenhwyfar. Would you deny me the search, now that I know there is truly something worth the finding?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It seemed as if they were alone in a room, not in the court before all men. She knew she could prevail on him in all else, but who can come between a man and his soul? God had not seen fit to give him this sureness and joy, and she did not wonder that he must now go seeking for it, for if she had sensed it was there, yet without the surety, she too would have spent the rest of her life in that seeking. She reached both hands to him, and said, feeling as though she embraced him before all men in the clear light of day, \"Go then, my beloved, and God reward your search with the truth you seek.\"\n\nAnd he said, \"God remain with you always, my queen, and may he grant that someday I return to you.\"\n\nThen he turned to Arthur, but Gwenhwyfar did not hear what they said, only that he embraced Arthur as he had done when they were all young and innocent.\n\nArthur stood, his hand on Gwenhwyfar's shoulder, watching him go. \"I think sometimes,\" he said softly, \"that Lance is the best of us,\" and she turned to him, her heart overflowing with love for this good man who washer husband, and said, \"I think so too, my dearest love.\"\n\nHe said, surprising her, \"I love you both, Gwen. Never think, never, that you are less tome than anything on earth. I am almost glad you have never borne me a son,\" he added, almost in a whisper, \"for then you might think I loved you only for that, and now I can say to you, I love you beyond all else save only my duty to this land whereof God has given me the stewardship, and you cannot be jealous of that....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No,\" she said softly. And then, for once meaning it absolutely, without reservation, she said, \"And I love you too, Arthur, never doubt that.\"\n\n\"I have never fora moment doubted that, my own dear love.\" And he raised both her hands to his lips and kissed them, and Gwenhwyfar was filled again with that great and overflowing joy. What woman alive has had so much of life, that the two greatest men within the borders of this world have loved me?\n\nAll around them, the noises of the court were rising again, demanding notice for the things of everyday life. Everyone, it seemed, had seen something different-an angel; a maiden bearing the Grail; some, like herself, had seemed to seethe Holy Mother; and many, many others had seen nothing, nothing but alight too bright to bear, and had been filled with peace and joy, and been fed with such meats and drinks as they liked best.\n\nNow a rumor was going about that, by the favor of Christ, what they had seen was the very Grail from which Christ had drunk at the Last Supper among his disciples, where he broke the bread and shared the wine as if it were body and blood of the ancient sacrifice. Had Bishop Patricius chosen his moment to spread that tale, while they were all confused and no man knew precisely what he had actually seen?\n\nThere was a tale Morgaine had told her, Gwenhwyfar remembered, crossing herself: Jesus of Nazareth, they said in Avalon, had come herein youth to be educated among the wise Druids in Glastonbury, and after his death, his foster-father, Joseph of Arimathea, had come here and struck his staff into the ground where it had blossomed into the Holy Thorn. Did it not then seem reasonable that this same Joseph had brought hither the cup of the sacrifice? Surely, whatever passed, it was holy... surely this was a holy thing, since, if it had not come of God, it could not be anything but a most evil enchantment, and how could such beauty, such joy, be evil?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Yet whatever the bishop said, it had been an evil gift, Gwenhwyfar thought, shaking. One by one, the Companions had arisen and ridden forth on their quest, and now she looked on a hall which was all but empty. They were gone, all the Companions save for Mordred, who had vowed to remain, and Cai, who was too old and lame to ride forth. Arthur turned away from Cai-she knew he must be comforting Cai for not riding on this quest with the others-and he said, \"Ah, I too should have ridden forthwith them, but I could not. I would not shatter their dream.\"\n\nShe came and herself poured him some wine, and she wished suddenly that they were within their own rooms, not here where they were left alone in the hall of the Round Table. \"Arthur, you planned what happened-you told me that something amazing was being planned for Easter-\"\n\n\"Yes,\" he said, leaning back wearily in his chair, \"but I swear to you that I knew not what was planned by Bishop Patricius or by the Merlin. I knew that Kevin had brought here the Holy Regalia from Avalon.\" He laid a hand on his sword. \"I was given the sword at my crowning, and now it has been given to the service of this kingdom and of Christ. It seemed tome, as the Merlin said, that the holiest of Mysteries of the ancient world should be put to the service of God, since all the Gods are one, as Taliesin always told us. In the old days the Druids called their God by other names, but these things belonged to God and should be given to him. Yet I know not what happened in the hall this day.\"\n\n\"You know not? You? Does it not seem to you that we beheld a true miracle, that God himself came before us to show that the Holy Grail should be reclaimed for his service?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"At times, I think so,\" said Arthur, slowly, \"and then I wonder... was it not the magic of the Merlin which enchanted us, so that we should see a vision and think thus? For now are my Companions gone forth from me, and who knows whether they shall ever return?\" He raised his face to her; she noticed, as from very faraway, that his eyebrows were all white now, and that his fair hair was liberally silvered.\n\nHe said, \"Knew you not that Morgaine was here?\"\n\n\"Morgaine?\" Gwenhwyfar shook her head. \"No, I knew it not... why came she not to greet us?\"\n\nHe smiled, \"You ask that? She left our court under my great displeasure.\" His lips tightened and again his hand sought the hilt of Excalibur, as if to reassure himself that still it lay at his side. It hung now in a leather scabbard, a coarse and ugly thing; she had never dared to ask him what had become of the one Morgaine had made for him so many years ago, but now she guessed that was behind their quarrel.\n\n\"You knew it not-that she had rebelled against me. She would have put her paramour Accolon on the throne in my place...\"\n\nGwenhwyfar had thought she would never again feel wrath at any living creature after the day's joyous vision; even now, what she mostly felt was pity for Morgaine, and pity too for Arthur, knowing how he had loved and trusted the sister who had betrayed him. \"Why did you not tell me that? I never trusted her.\"\n\n\"That is why,\" said Arthur, pressing her hand. \"I thought I could not bear it, to hear you say how you trusted her never, and how you had often warned me against her. But Morgaine was here this day, in the guise of an old peasant woman. She looked old, Gwenhwyfar, old and harmless and sick. I think that she had come in disguise for another look, perhaps, at that place where once she had held high state, and perhaps for another glimpse of her son.... She looked older than our mother looked when she died...\" and he was silent, reckoning fora moment on his fingers, and saying at last, \"Why, and so she is, as I am older than my father ever was, my Gwenhwyfar.... I think not that Morgaine came to do mischief, and if she did, why, for sure it was prevented by the holy vision...\" and he was silent. Gwenhwyfar knew, with her sure instinct, that he did not want to say aloud that he loved Morgaine still and that he missed her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "As the years pass there are so many things I cannot say to Arthur, or he tome..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "but at least we both spoke today of Lancelet and of the love that was among us all. And it seemed to her for the moment that this love was the greatest truth in her life, and that love could never be weighed out or measured, so much for this one and so much for that, but was an endless and eternal flow, that the more she loved, the more love she had to give, as she gave it now to everyone, as it had been given her by her vision.\n\nEven toward the Merlin, today, she felt that flow of warmth and tenderness. \"Look how Kevin struggles with his harp. Shall I send someone to help him, Arthur?\"\n\nArthur smiled and said, \"He needs it not, for Nimue is ministering to him, see?\"\n\nAnd again she felt the flood of love, this time for Lancelet's daughter and Elaine's-child to two of those she had loved best. Nimue's hand under the Merlin's arm... like the old tale of the maiden who fell in love with a wild beast from the depths of the forest! Ah, but today she even felt love for the Merlin too, and was glad that he had Nimue's strong young hands to help him.\n\nAND AS THE DAYS passed in the near-empty court at Camelot, Nimue came to seem more and more like the daughter she had never had. The girl listened with attentive courtesy when she spoke, flattered her subtly, was ever quick to wait upon her hand and foot. Only in one thing did Nimue displease Gwenhwyfar-she spent far too much time listening to the Merlin.\n\n\"He may now call himself Christian, child,\" the Queen warned, \"but at heart he is an old pagan, sworn by the barbaric rites of the Druids, which you have renounced... you can see still the serpents he wears on his wrists!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nimue stroked her own satiny wrists. \"Why, so does Arthur,\" she said gently, \"and I too might have worn them, cousin, had I not seen the great light. He is a wise man, and there is no man in all Britain who can play more sweetly upon the harp.\"\n\n\"And there is the bond of Avalon to bind you,\" said Gwenhwyfar, a little more sharply than she intended.\n\n\"No, no,\" said Nimue, \"I beg of you, cousin, say this never to him. He did not see my face at Avalon, he knows me not, and I do not wish him to think mean apostate from that faith to this....\"\n\nShe looked so troubled that Gwenhwyfar said lovingly, \"Why, if you wish, I will not tell him. I have not told even Arthur that you came to us from Avalon.\"\n\n\"And I am so fond of music, and of the harp,\" Nimue pleaded. \"May I not speak with him?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar smiled indulgently. \"Your father, too, was a fine musician-once he said that his mother had set a harp in his hand fora plaything before he was old enough even to hold a toy sword, and taught him to touch the strings. I would like Merlin the better if he stayed with his harp and sought not to be one of Arthur's councillors.\" Then she shuddered and said, \"Tome the man is a monster!\"\n\nNimue said patiently, \"I am sorry to see you so against him, cousin. It is not his doing-I am sure he would rather be as handsome as my father and as strong as Gareth!\"\n\nGwenhwyfar bent her head. \"I know it is not charitable of me... but from childhood I have had a revulsion for those who are so misshapen. I am not sure it was not the sight of Kevin which caused me to miscarry when last I had a chance to bear a son. And if God is good, does it not follow that what comes from God must be beautiful and perfect, and what is ugly and misshapen must be the work of the foul fiend?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No,\" said Nimue, \"it seems not at all likely tome. God himself sent trials to the folk in Holy Writ, for he afflicted Job with leprosy and boils, and he caused Jonah to be swallowed up by a great fish. And again and again we are told he made his chosen people to suffer, and even Christ himself suffered. One might say that these people suffer because it is the will of God that they shall suffer more than others. It maybe that Kevin suffers this affliction for some great sin he did in some life before this one.\"\n\n\"Bishop Patricius tells us that is a heathen notion and no Christian should believe that abominable lie-that we are born and reborn again. Or how should we ever go to Heaven?\"\n\nNimue smiled, remembering Morgaine saying to her, Never speak tome again of anything Father Griffin said to you. She thought she would like to say it now to Gwenhwyfar, but she kept her voice gentle.\n\n\"Oh no, cousin, for even in Holy Scripture, it is told how men asked of John the Baptizer who he was. Some men said that Jesus Christ was Elijah come again, and he said instead, I tell you that Elijah has come among you already and ye knew him not. And men knew-so it says in Holy Writ-that he spoke of John. And so, if Christ himself believed that men were reborn, how can it be wrong for mankind so to believe?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar wondered how so much knowledge of Scripture had come to Nimue, living upon Avalon. And she remembered that Morgaine, too, had known more, she sometimes thought, of the holy writings than she herself did.\n\nNimue said, \"I think perhaps the priests do not want us to think of other lives because they wish us to be very good in this one. Many priests think there is not much time remaining before the world will end and Christ come again, and so they are afraid that men will wait for another life to be good, and will not have time to attain perfection before Christ comes. If men knew they would be reborn, would they work so hard to be perfect in this life?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That seems tome dangerous doctrine,\" Gwenhwyfar said, \"for if people believed that all men must at last be saved in some life or other, what would keep them from committing sins in this one, in the hope that at last God's mercy would prevail?\"\n\n\"I do not think that fear of the priests, or of God's wrath, or anything else, will ever keep mankind from committing sins,\" said Nimue, \"but only when they have gained enough wisdom in all their lives that they know that error is useless and evil must be paid for, sooner or later.\"\n\n\"Oh! Hush, child,\" Gwenhwyfar said. \"Suppose someone should hear you speaking such heresies! Although it is true,\" she said after a moment, \"that since that day of Easter, it seems tome that there is infinite mercy in God's love, and perhaps God does not care so much about sin as some of the priests would have us believe... and now I am talking heresy too, perhaps!\"\n\nNimue only smiled again, thinking to herself, I did not come to court to bring enlightenment to Gwenhwyfar. I have a more perilous mission, and it is not for me to preach to her the truth, that all men, and all women too, must one day come to enlightenment.\n\n\"Do you not believe Christ will come again, Nimue?\"\n\nNo, thought Nimue, I do not, I believe that the great enlightened ones, like Christ, come but once, after many lives spent in attaining wisdom, and then they go forth forever into eternity; but I believe the divine ones will send other great masters to preach the truth to mankind, and that mankind will always receive them with the cross and the fire and the stones.\n\n\"What I believe does not matter, cousin, what matters is the truth. Some priests preach that their God is a God of love, and others that he is evil and vengeful. Sometimes I feel that the priests were sent to punish people; since they would not hear Christ's words of Love, God sent them the priests with their message of hatred and bigotry.\" And then she stopped short, for she did not want to anger Gwenhwyfar. But the Queen only said, \"Well, Nimue, I have known priests like that.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And if some priests are badmen,\" said Nimue, \"I find it not wholly beyond reason that some Druids might be good ones.\"\n\nThere must, thought Gwenhwyfar, be some error in that reasoning, but she could not make it out. \"Well, my dear, you maybe right. But it makes me queasy to see you with the Merlin. Although I know Morgaine thought well of him... it was rumored here at court, even, that they were lovers. I wondered often how a woman so fastidious as Morgaine could have let him touch her.\"\n\nNimue had not known that and she thrust it away in her mind for reference. Was that how Morgaine had known of his undefended fortresses? She said only, \"Of all I learned in Avalon, what most I loved was music, and what I have heard in Holy Writ that pleases me most was the psalmist who told us to praise God with the lute and the harp. And Kevin has promised me that he will help me to find a harp, for I came away without my own. May I send for him here, cousin?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar hesitated, but she could not resist the sweet entreaty in the young girl's smile and said, \"To be sure you may, my dearest child.\"\n\nAfter a time, the Merlin came-no, thought Nimue, I must remember; he is no more now than Kevin the Harper, traitor to Avalon-and behind him a servant carrying My Lady. Nimue thought, Now he is a Christian, there is no law that no other may touch his harp; it is simpler than keeping an initiated man about him to bear My Lady when his strength fails.\n\nHe walked with two sticks, dragging his tortured body after them. But he smiled at the ladies and said, \"You must consider, my queen and my lady Nimue, that somehow my spirit has made to you the courtly bow that my unruly body is no longer able to make.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nimue whispered, \"I beg you, cousin, ask him to sit-he cannot stand for long.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar waved permission, glad for once of her near sight that meant she need not clearly seethe misshapen body. Fora moment, Nimue was afraid that Kevin's man was from Avalon and would recognize and perhaps greet her, but he was only a servant in the dress of the court. How had Morgaine, or old Raven, been able to see so far ahead, to order her as a child into seclusion, so that when she came to womanhood, there would be one fully trained priestess in Avalon whom the Merlin would not know by sight? She understood that she was merely a pawn in the great work of the world, sent forthwith no weapons but her beauty and her guarded virginity to work the vengeance of the Goddess on this man who had betrayed them all.\n\nNimue placed another cushion from her own chair under the Merlin's arm. His bones seemed to protrude through the skin, and when she barely touched his elbow, it seemed that there was so much heat in the swollen joints that it burned her. And she felt a moment's pity and rebellion.\n\nSurely the Goddess already works her own vengeance! This man has surely suffered enough! Their Christ suffered a day on the cross; this man has been crucified in his broken body fora lifetime!\n\nYet others had been burned for their faith and had not broken, nor betrayed the Mysteries. She hardened her heart and said sweetly, \"Lord Merlin, will you play your harp for me?\"\n\n\"For you, my lady,\" Kevin said in his rich voice, \"I will play what you will, and I could wish I were that ancient bard who could play till the trees danced!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh no,\" said Nimue with mocking laughter. \"What would we do if they came dancing inhere! Why, we would have earth allover the hall, and all our maids with mops and brooms would not be able to clean it! Leave the trees where they are, I beg you, and sing!\"\n\nThe Merlin put his hands to the harp and began to play. Nimue sat beside him on the floor, her great eyes looking up, intent, into his face. The Merlin looked down on the maiden just as a great dog might watch its master-with humble devotion and utter preoccupation. Gwenhwyfar took such emotion almost for granted. She herself had been the object of intense devotion so often that she never thought twice about it-it was simply the homage that men paid to beauty. Perhaps, though, she should warn Nimue, lest her head be turned by it. Yet she could not imagine how Nimue could sit so close to his ugliness or look at him so attentively.\n\nThere was something about Nimue that puzzled Gwenhwyfar. Somehow, the girl's concentration was not quite what it seemed. It was not the delight taken by one musician in another's work, nor was it the artless admiration of a naive maiden fora well-travelled and mature man. No, thought Gwenhwyfar, and it was not a sudden passion, either; that she could have understood and, in a sense, sympathized with-she herself had known that sudden overpowering love which sweeps away all obstacles. It had struck her like lightning and had ruined all her hopes that her marriage with Arthur could be a good and proper one. It had been a curse, yet she had known it was something that came of itself, over which neither she nor Lancelet had any power. She had come to terms with it, and she could have accepted that it had happened to Nimue-even though Kevin the Merlin seemed the most unlikely object for such a passion. But it was not that... she did not know how she knew, but she knew." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Simple lust? It might have been that on Kevin's part-Nimue was beautiful, and even though the Merlin had been most circumspect, she might have kindled any man; but Gwenhwyfar could not believe that Nimue had been likewise roused by such a one when she had remained courteous but cool and unattainable to all of Gwenhwyfar's handsomest young knights.\n\nFrom where she sat at the Merlin's feet, Nimue sensed that Gwenhwyfar was watching her. But she did not turn her eyes away from Kevin. Ina way, she thought, I am enchanting him. Her purpose demanded that she have him completely at her mercy-her slave and her victim. And again she stifled the flash of pity that she felt. This man had done worse than simply revealing the Mysteries or the secret teaching; he had given the holy things themselves into the hands of the Christians, to be profaned. Ruthlessly, Nimue refused to consider her next thought, that the Christians had not intended profanation but hallowing. The Christians knew nothing of the inner truths of the Mysteries. And in any case the Merlin had betrayed a sworn oath.\n\nAnd the Goddess appeared to prevent that profanation.... Nimue had had enough training in the Mysteries to know what she had witnessed; even now a shiver went over her at the thought of what had passed among the Companions on that festival day. She had not wholly understood, but she knew that she had touched the greatest holiness.\n\nAnd the Merlin would have profaned this. No, he must die like the dog he was.\n\nThe harp was silent. Kevin said, \"I have a harp for you, lady, if you will accept it. It is one which I fashioned with my own hands when I was a lad on Avalon, and first come there. I have made others, and they are better, but this is a good one and I have carried it long. If you will accept it, it is yours.\" Nimue protested that such a gift was all too valuable, but inwardly she was overjoyed. If she should possess something so valuable to him personally, something he had fashioned with his own hands and labor, then would it bind him to her, just as if it were a lock of his own hair or a drop of his blood. There were not many, even in Avalon, who knew that the law of magic went so far, that something which had been so intimately intertwined with the mind and the heart and the passions-and Nimue grasped that music was his deepest passion-retained even more of the soul than hair clipped from the body retained the essence of the body." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She thought with satisfaction, He himself, of his own freewill, has put his soul into my hands. When he sent for the harp, she caressed it; small and crudely made as it was, the post had been worn smooth with resting against his body, and his hands had touched the strings with love... even now they lingered on it tenderly.\n\nShe touched the strings, testing their music. In truth, the tone of the harp was good; he had somehow managed that perfect curve and structure that made the soundingboard echo the strings with the sweetest tone. And if he had done this as a boy, with those mutilated hands... again Nimue felt the surge of pity and pain, Why did he not keep to his music and meddle not in the high affairs of state?\n\n\"You are too kind tome.\" She let her voice tremble, hoping he would think it was passion instead of triumph... with this, soon he will be mine, possessed body and soul.\n\nBut it was too soon. The great tides of Avalon running in her blood told her that the moon was waxing; such great magic as this could be worked only in moon-dark, the slack time when the Lady sheds none of her light on the world, and her hidden purposes are made known.\n\nShe must not let his passion grow beyond bounds, nor her own sympathy with him.\n\nHe will desire meat full moon; this bond I am forging is a double-edged sword, a rope with two ends... I will desire him as well, I cannot prevent that. For an enchantment to be total, it must involve both enchanter and enchanted, and she knew, with a spasm of terror, that this spell she was weaving would work on her too, and rebound on her. She could not pretend passion and desire; she must feel them as well. She knew, with a fear that wrung her heart, that even as the Merlin would be helpless in her hands, so it might well be that she would come to be helpless in his. And what of me, O Goddess, Mother... that is all too great a price to pay... let it not come on me, no, no, I am afraid...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well, Nimue, my dear,\" Gwenhwyfar said, \"now that you have the harp in your hands, will you play and sing for me?\"\n\nShe let her hair curtain her face as she looked timidly at the Merlin and murmured, \"Shall I, then?\"\n\n\"I beg you to play,\" he said. \"Your voice is sweet and I can hear that your hands will bring enchantment from the strings....\"\n\nThey will indeed if I am favored of the Goddess. Nimue set her hands to the strings, remembering that she must not play any song of Avalon that he would remember and recognize. She began to play a drinking song she had heard at the court, with words none too proper fora maiden; she saw Gwenhwyfar looking scandalized, and thought, Good, if she is shocked by my unmaidenly behavior, she will not inquire too deeply into my motives. Then she played and sang a lament she had heard from a northern harper, the mournful song of a fisherman out on the sea, looking for the lights of his home on the shore.\n\nAt the end of the song she rose, looking shyly at him. \"I thank you for the use of your harp-may I borrow it again, that my hands may keep their skill?\"\n\n\"It is my gift to you,\" said Kevin. \"Now that I have heard what music your hands can bring from it, it could belong to no other. Keep it, I beg you-I have many harps.\"\n\n\"You are too kind tome,\" she murmured, \"but, I beg you, now that I can make music for myself, do not abandon me or deprive me of the pleasure of listening to yours.\"\n\n\"I will play for you whenever you ask me,\" Kevin said, and she knew that his heart was in the words. She contrived to brush against him as she leaned forward to take the harp." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Help continue the narrative for the writer.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 14" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well, Nimue, my dear,\" Gwenhwyfar said, \"now that you have the harp in your hands, will you play and sing for me?\"\n\nShe let her hair curtain her face as she looked timidly at the Merlin and murmured, \"Shall I, then?\"\n\n\"I beg you to play,\" he said. \"Your voice is sweet and I can hear that your hands will bring enchantment from the strings....\"\n\nThey will indeed if I am favored of the Goddess. Nimue set her hands to the strings, remembering that she must not play any song of Avalon that he would remember and recognize. She began to play a drinking song she had heard at the court, with words none too proper fora maiden; she saw Gwenhwyfar looking scandalized, and thought, Good, if she is shocked by my unmaidenly behavior, she will not inquire too deeply into my motives. Then she played and sang a lament she had heard from a northern harper, the mournful song of a fisherman out on the sea, looking for the lights of his home on the shore.\n\nAt the end of the song she rose, looking shyly at him. \"I thank you for the use of your harp-may I borrow it again, that my hands may keep their skill?\"\n\n\"It is my gift to you,\" said Kevin. \"Now that I have heard what music your hands can bring from it, it could belong to no other. Keep it, I beg you-I have many harps.\"\n\n\"You are too kind tome,\" she murmured, \"but, I beg you, now that I can make music for myself, do not abandon me or deprive me of the pleasure of listening to yours.\"\n\n\"I will play for you whenever you ask me,\" Kevin said, and she knew that his heart was in the words. She contrived to brush against him as she leaned forward to take the harp." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She murmured, softly so Gwenhwyfar would not hear, \"Words alone cannot express my gratitude to you. Perhaps a time will come when I can express it more fittingly.\"\n\nHe looked at her, dazed, and she discovered that she was returning his gaze with the same intensity.\n\nA double-edged spell indeed. I am victim too...\n\nHe went away, and she sat obediently by Gwenhwyfar and tried to turn her attention to her spinning.\n\n\"How beautifully you play, Nimue,\" said Gwenhwyfar. \"I need not ask where you learned... I heard Morgaine sing that lament once.\"\n\nNimue said, averting her eyes, \"Tell me something of Morgaine. She had departed from Avalon before I came there. She was married to a king in-Lothian, was it?\"\n\n\"In the north of Wales,\" Gwenhwyfar began.\n\nNimue, who knew all this perfectly well, was still not completely false. Morgaine remained a puzzle to her, and she was eager to know how the lady Morgaine had appeared to those who knew her in the world.\n\n\"Morgaine was one of my ladies-in-waiting,\" Gwenhwyfar was saying. \"Arthur gave her tome as such on our wedding day. Of course he had been fostered apart from her and hardly knew her, either....\"\n\nAs she listened attentively, Nimue, who had been trained to read emotions, realized that beneath Gwenhwyfar's dislike for Morgaine, there was something else: respect, awe, even a kind of tenderness. If Gwenhwyfar were not so fanatically, mindlessly Christian, she would have loved Morgaine well.\n\nAt least while Gwenhwyfar was talking of Morgaine, even though she condemned her as an evil sorceress, she was not mouthing the pious nonsense that bored Nimue almost to weeping. But she could not give Gwenhwyfar's tales her full attention. She satin an attitude of passionate interest, she made the proper sounds of attention or astonishment, but within, her mind was in turmoil:" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I am afraid; I can come to be the Merlin's slave and victim as I would have him mine....\n\nGoddess! Great Mother! It is not I who must face him, but you.... The moon was waxing; four nights until full, and she could already feel the stirring of that tide of life. She thought of the Merlin's intent gaze, his magical eyes, the beauty of his voice, and knew that already she was deeply entangled in her own spell weaving. Already she had ceased to feel the slightest revulsion against his twisted body, feeling only the strength and life force flowing within it.\n\nIf I give myself to him at full moon, she thought, then will the tides of life within us both betaken at the flood, then will my purposes become his own, then will we blend together as one flesh... she felt an ache and agony of desire, longing to be caressed by those sensitive hands, feel his warm breath against her mouth. Everything in her ached together in hunger which, she knew, was at least partly an echo of his own desire and frustration; the magical link she had created between them meant that she too must be tormented with his torment.\n\nWhen life runs full at the rounding of the moon, then shall the Goddess receive the body of her lover....\n\nIt was not altogether beyond belief. She was the daughter of the Queen's champion and the King's closest friend. Kevin, the Merlin, unlike a Christian priest, was not forbidden to marry. The court would be pleased at a marriage so high-placed, even though some of the ladies would be shocked that she could yield up her delicate body to a man they considered a monster. Arthur surely knew that Kevin could not, after what he had done, return to Avalon, but he had a place at court as the King's councillor. Also, he was a musician of surpassing skill. There would be a place for us, and happiness... when the moon is full, brimming with life, he will plant a child in my womb... and I will bear it joyfully... he is not monster born, his deformity is from childhood injuries... his sons would be handsome... and then she stopped herself, disturbed by the power of her own fantasies. No, she must not become so deeply entangled in this spell. She must deny herself, even though the waxing moon made the surging blood in her veins a very agony of frustration. She must wait, wait..." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As she had waited all those years.... There is a magic that comes with yielding to life. The priestesses of Avalon knew it when they lay in the fields at Beltane, invoking the life of the Goddess in their own bodies and hearts... but there is a deeper magic which comes from guarding the power, damming up the stream. The Christians knew something of this, when they insisted that their holy virgins live in chastity and seclusion, that they might burn with the darker flame of that harnessed force; that their chaste priests might pour all their contained power into their Mysteries, such as they were. Nimue had felt that power in the lightest word or gesture from Raven, who had never wasted words on anything trivial, so that her force, when she spent it, was tremendous. She had wondered often, alone in the temple at Avalon, when she was forbidden to mingle with the other maidens or to go to the rites, when she felt that life force in her veins with such power that she sometimes burst into hysterical crying or tore at her hair and her face... why had they set her aside for this, why must she bear the terrible weight of all this without relief? But she had trusted the Goddess and obeyed her mentors, and now they had entrusted this great work to her, and she must not fail them through her own weakness.\n\nShe was a charged vessel of power, like the Holy Regalia which it was death to touch unprepared, and all this power of her long preparation would be hers to bind the Merlin to her... but she must wait for the tide to slacken and fill again; at the dark moon she must take the other tide which came of the other side of the moon... not fertile but barren, not of life at all but of dark magic older than human life...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And the Merlin knew these things; he knew of the old curse of the dark moon and the barren womb... he must be so wholly enspelled by her that he would not even wonder why she had refused him at the spring tide and sought him out at the slack. She had one advantage: he did not know that she knew these things, he had never seen her in Avalon. Yet the bond went between them both ways, and if she could read his thoughts, he might read hers; she must guard herself every moment lest he see within and guess her purposes.\n\nI must so wholly blind him with desire that he will forget... forget all he has been taught in Avalon. And at the same time, she must not be overcome by his desire, she must contain her own. It would not be easy.\n\nShe began to frame in her mind the next wile she would use on him. Tell me of your childhood, she would say, tell me how you were so hurt. Sympathy would be a powerful bond; she knew just how she would touch him with the very tips of her fingers... and she knew, in despair, that she was seeking out ways to be near him and touch him, not for her work but for her own hunger.\n\nCan I make this spell without bringing myself, too, to ruin?\n\n\"YOU WERE not at the Queen's feast,\" murmured the Merlin, looking into Nimue's eyes, \"and I had made anew song for you.... It was the fulling of the moon, and there is great power in the moon, lady....\"\n\nShe looked at him, all intent. \"Truly? I know so little of these things... are you a magician, my lord Merlin? I sometimes feel helpless, that you are working your magic on me....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "She had hidden herself at the full moon, sure that if he looked into her eyes at that time he would be able to read her thoughts and perhaps divine her purposes." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Now that the strength of that magical tide was past, she could, perhaps, guard herself from him.\n\n\"You must sing me your song now.\" She sat listening, feeling her whole body quiver as the harp strings quivered under his touch.\n\nI cannot bear it, I cannot... I must act this time as soon as the moon is dark. Another of these tides, she knew, and she would succumb to the flood tide of hunger and desire she was building between them... and I would never be able to betray him... I would be his forever, for this life and beyond....\n\nShe reached out and touched the twisted lumps that were his wrist bones, and the touch thrilled her with longing. She could only imagine from the sudden dilation of his pupils, the swift intake of his breath, what it had done to him.\n\nBetrayal, she thought, under the inexorable laws of fate, betrayal would be punished a thousandfold by the Goddess, in life afterlife; betrayed and betrayer would be punished and bound together for love and hate for thousands of years. But she did this at the command of the Goddess, she had been sent to punish a traitor for betrayal... would she then be punished in turn? If it were so, then there was no justice even in the realms of the Gods....\n\nChrist said true repentance wipes out all sin....\n\nBut fate and the laws of the universe cannot be so easily set aside. The stars in their courses do not stop because someone cries out to them, Stop!\n\nWell, be it so; perhaps she betrayed the Merlin as part of a deed done by one of them before the ancient land beneath the waves had sunk into the sea. It washer fate, and she dared not question. He had stopped playing and closed his hand softly over hers; as if in a daze, she laid her lips to his. Now, now it is too late to turn back." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "No. It had been too late to turn back when she had bowed her head and accepted the work Morgaine laid on her. It had been too late to turn back when she swore the oath to Avalon....\n\n\"Tell me more of yourself,\" she whispered, \"I want to know everything about you, my lord....\"\n\n\"Call me not so. My name is Kevin.\"\n\n\"Kevin,\" she said, and made her voice soft and tender, just brushing her fingers again over his arm.\n\nDay by day she wove her spell, with touches and glances and whispered words, as the moon waned away toward darkness. After that first, swift kiss, she withdrew again, as if he had frightened her. It is true. But it is more that I frightened myself... never, never in all the years of seclusion had she suspected herself of being capable of such passion, such hunger; and she knew that her spells were enhancing it in herself as in him. Atone point, teased beyond endurance by her whispered touches, the soft brushing of her hair against his face when she bent over him where he sat at his harp, he turned and seized her and crushed her to him, and she struggled in real, not pretended, fright this time.\n\n\"No-no, I cannot-you forget yourself-I beg you, let me go-\" she cried out, and when he only clasped her closer, burying his face in her bosom and covering her breasts with kisses, she began to cry softly. \"No, no, I am afraid, I am afraid-\"\n\nHe let her go then and drew away, almost in a daze. His breath was hoarse and hard. He sat with his eyes closed, his twisted hands hanging limp. After a moment he murmured, \"My beloved, my precious white bird, my own sweetheart-forgive me-forgive me-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Nimue realized that now she could use even her own very real fear for her own ends." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She said, whimpering, \"I trusted you. I trusted you-\"\n\n\"You should not,\" he said hoarsely. \"I am no more than a man, and certainly not less than one...\" and she cringed at the bitterness as he added, \"I am a man of flesh and blood, and I love you, Nimue, and you play with meas if I were a lapdog and expect me to be tame as a gelded pony... do you think because I am a cripple I am less than a man?\"\n\nIn his mind Nimue could see, clear and mirrored, memory of a time when he had said this to the first woman who had ever come to him, and saw Morgaine reflected in his eyes and his mind, not the Morgaine she knew but a dark, bewitching woman, soft of voice, yet somehow terrible too, worshipped and also feared because through the daze of passion he could remember that suddenly the lightning would strike....\n\nNimue reached her hands to him and knew they were trembling and that he would never know why. She guarded her thoughts carefully and said, \"I never thought that. Forgive me, Kevin. I-I could not help myself-\"\n\nAnd it is all true. Goddess, it is all true. But not as he believes. What I say is not what he hears.\n\nAnd yet for all her pity and desire there was a thread of contempt too. Otherwise I could not bear it, to do what I do... but a man so nakedly at the mercy of desire is contemptible.... I too tremble, I am torn... but I will not beat the mercy of my body's hunger....\n\nAnd that was why Morgaine had given her the key to this man, put him wholly into her hands. Now was the time to speak the words that would consolidate the spell, make him hers, body and soul, so that she might bring him to Avalon and the appointed doom." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Pretend! Pretend to be one of those feckless virgins Gwenhwyfar has about her, with their minds between their legs!\n\nShe said, faltering, \"I am sorry-I know you are indeed a man-I am sorry I was afraid-\" and she raised her eyes to his, a gaze aslant through her longhair, afraid that if he could look deep into her eyes she would blurt out all her duplicity. \"I... I-yes, I wanted you to kiss me, but then you were so fierce, and I was frightened. This is neither the time nor the place, someone might come suddenly upon us, and then the Queen would be angry, and I am one of her maidens, and she has warned us that we must not runabout with men...\"\n\nIs he fool enough to believe me when I speak such simpering nonsense?\n\n\"My poor darling!\" Kevin covered her hands with contrite kisses. \"Ah, I am a beast to frighten you, I love you so... I love you so much that I cannot bear it! Nimue, Nimue, are you so afraid of the Queen's anger? I cannot-\" He stopped and breathed again, hard. \"I cannot live like this-would you have it that I should begone from this court? Never, never have I-\" he stopped again and then, holding her hands between his, he said, \"I cannot live without you. I must have you or die. Will you not have some pity on me, beloved?\"\n\nShe lowered her eyes, with along sigh, watching his contorted face, his dazed breathing. At last she whispered, \"What can I say to you?\"\n\n\"Say that you love me!\"\n\n\"I love you.\" She knew that she sounded like a woman under a spell. \"You know that I do.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Say that you will give me all your love, say that-ah, Nimue, Nimue, you are so young and beautiful, and I am so twisted and ugly, I cannot believe you care for me, even now I think I am dreaming, that you have for some reason roused me like this that you might make fun of the beast grovelling at your feet like a dog....\"\n\n\"No,\" she said, and swiftly, as if she were afraid of her own daring, bent quickly down and laid the lightest of kisses against his eyes, two darting swallows that came and went.\n\n\"Nimue, will you come to my bed?\"\n\nShe whispered, \"I am frightened... we might be seen, and I dare not be so wanton-we might be discovered.\" She arranged her lips into a childish pout. \"If we were caught, then the men would think you only all the more manly for it, and none would chide or shame you, but I, I am a maiden and they would point tome as a harlot or worse...\" and she let tears slide down her cheek, but inward she was all triumph. I have him now safe within my net....\n\n\"I would do anything, anything to protect you, to reassure you...\" Kevin said, his voice trembling with sincerity.\n\n\"I know men like to boast of their conquest of maidens,\" she said. \"How do I know you will not brag of it throughout Camelot, that you have the favor of the Queen's kinswoman and have taken her maidenhood?\"\n\n\"Trust me, I beg you, trust me-what can I do? What proof can I give you of my sincerity? You know that I am yours, body and heart and soul-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And fora moment she was angry, I do not want your damned soul, she thought, close to weeping with tension and fear. He held her between his hands and whispered, \"How? When will you be mine? What can I do to prove that I love you beyond all things?\"\n\nShe said, hesitating, \"I cannot take you to my bed. I sleep in a room with four of the Queen's ladies, and any man who came there would be seized by the guards-\"\n\nHe said, bending again to cover her hands with kisses, \"My poor little love, I would never bring shame on you. I have a place of my own-a little chamber fit fora dog, mostly because none other of the King's men wishes to share quarters with me. I do not know if you would dare to come there.\"\n\n\"Surely there must be some better way...\" she whispered, keeping her voice soft and tender. Damn you, how can I suggest it without dropping this pretense of maidenly innocence and stupidity...? \"I cannot think of anywhere within the castle where we could be truly safe, and yet-\" She stood and pressed herself against him, where he sat, her breasts just nudging his brow.\n\nHe flung his arms around her and buried his face in her body, his shoulders shaking. Then he said, \"At this season-it is warm and fair and there is little rain. Would you dare to come out of doors with me, Nimue?\"\n\nShe murmured as artlessly as she could, \"I would dare anything to be with you, my love.\"\n\n\"Then-tonight...?\"\n\n\"Oh,\" she whispered, shrinking, \"the moonlight is so bright, we should be seen... wait a few days, then there will be no moon....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"When the moon is dark-\" Kevin flinched, and she knew that here was the moment of danger, the moment when the carefully played fish might slip off the hook and out of the net and be free." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In Avalon the priestesses secluded themselves at moon-dark, and all magic was suspended... but he knew not that she was of Avalon.\n\nWould his fear or his desire win out? She was motionless, just fluttering her fingers within his. He said, \"That is an uncanny time-\"\n\n\"But I am afraid to be seen.... You do not know how angry the Queen would be with me, if she knew I was such a wanton as to desire you...\" she said, holding herself a little closer to him. \"Surely you and I do not need a moon to see one another....\"\n\nHe held her tight, his face buried in her breasts, covering them with hungry kisses. And then he whispered, \"My little love, let it be as you will, be the moonlight or dark...\"\n\n\"And you will take me away from Camelot afterward? I do not want to be shamed...\"\n\n\"Anywhere,\" he said, \"I swear it... I will swear it by your God, if you will.\"\n\nShe murmured, bending her head close to him, her hands moving through the sweet clean curliness of his hair, \"The Christian God does not like lovers, and hates it when women lie with men... swear it by your God, Kevin, swear it by the serpents around your wrists....\"\n\nHe whispered, \"I swear,\" and the meaning of the oath seemed to ripple the air around them both.\n\nOh, fool, you have sworn to your death.... Nimue shivered, but Kevin, his face still hidden against her breasts, his hot breath damping her gown, was oblivious to anything except her breasts under his lips. As a promised lover he took the privilege of touching, kissing, drawing her gown aside a little to cup them in his hands. \"I do not know how I can bear to wait.\" And she murmured, \"No, nor I,\" and meant it with all her heart, I would that this was done...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The moon would not be visible, but the moon tide would turn exactly two hours after sunset, three days from now; she could feel its ebbing like a great sickness in her blood, withdrawing life from her veins. Most of those three days she spent in her chambers, telling the Queen that she was ill, and it was not far from the truth. Much of her time alone she spent with her hands on Kevin's harp, meditating, filling the ether around her with the magical bond between them.\n\nAn ill-omened time, and Kevin knew it, as she did; but he was too blinded by the promise of her love to care.\n\nThe day dawned when the moon would darken; Nimue felt it through her body. She had made herself an herbal brew which would keep the moon-dark bleeding from coming on-she did not want to disgust him with the sight of her blood, nor frighten him to recalling the taboos of Avalon. She had to turn her mind away from the physical realities of the act; for all her training, she knew that in truth she was the nervous virgin she pretended to be. Well, so much the better, she need not try to pretend. She could simply be what she was-a girl giving herself for the first time to a man she loved and desired. And what would come after that, well, it was as the Goddess had bidden her.\n\nShe hardly knew how to make the day pass. Never had the chatter of Gwenhwyfar's ladies seemed so meaningless, so vapid. In the afternoon she could not turn her mind to spinning, so she brought the harp Kevin had given her and played and sang for them; but it was not easy, she must avoid all the songs of Avalon, and they were the ones which she found floating in her mind. But even the longest day wears to sunset. She washed herself and scented her body, and sat near Gwenhwyfar in the hall, merely picking at her food, sick and faint, disgusted by the grossness of the table manners, the dogs under the table. She could see Kevin seated among the King's councillors, near the house priest who confessed some of the ladies. He had been bothering her, asking why she did not seek spiritual advice, and when she said she was in no need of it, frowning as if she were the worst of sinners. Kevin. She could almost feel his hungry hands on her breast, and it seemed as if the look he sent toward her must be audible. Tonight. Tonight, my beloved. Tonight. Ah, Goddess, how can I do this to this man who loves me, who has put his whole soul into my hands.... 7 have sworn. I must keep my oath or be as much a traitor as he." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They met fora moment in the lower hall as the Queen's ladies went away to their chambers. He said, swiftly and very low, \"I have concealed your horse and mine in the woods beyond the gate. Afterward\"-and his voice shook-\"afterward I will take you away wherever you will, lady.\"\n\nYou do not know whither I shall lead you. But it was too late to turn back. She said, through tears she could not control, \"Ah, Kevin, I-I love you-\" and knew it was true. She had wound herself so deep in his heart that she did not know, she could not even imagine, how she could bear to be apart from him. It seemed to her that the whole air of the night was alive with magic, that somehow others must see this great trembling in the air and the darkness hovering over her.\n\nShe must let them think she had gone abroad on some likely errand. She told the ladies who shared her chamber that she had promised one of the chamberlain's wives to try a remedy for the toothache, and that she would not be back for many hours. Then, taking her darkest, heavy cloak and tying the small sickle of her initiation about her waist beneath her gown, she slipped out. After a moment she turned into a dark corner and removed the little sickle, slipping it into a tied pocket at her waist-whatever befell, Kevin must not see it.\n\nHis heart would break if I failed to keep this tryst, she thought; he did not know how fortunate he would be....\n\nDarkness. Not even shadows in the moonless courtyard. She found herself trembling, picking her steps carefully by the dimmest of starlight. After a little there was a deeper darkness and she heard his voice, a muted hoarse mutter: \"Nimue?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It is I, my beloved.\"\n\nWhich is the greater falsity, to break my oath to Avalon, or to lie to Kevin thus? Both are false... is a lie ever right?\n\nHe took her arm and the touch of his hot handmade her own blood heat. They were both deeply entangled now in the magic of the hour. He led her outside the gate, down the steep slope that raised the ancient fort of Camelot above the surrounding hills. In winter this ran a river and swampy; now it was dry, thick with the rank growth of the damp lands. He led her into a grove of trees.\n\nAh Goddess, I always knew that on this day when I laid down my virginity, that it would be within a grove... but I did not know it would be with all the sorcery of the dark moon....\n\nHe took her close and kissed her. His whole body seemed to be burning. He spread their cloaks together on the grass, and drew her down, his twisted hands shaking so hard on the fastenings of her dress that she had to take and loosen them herself. He said with a shred of his natural voice, \"I am glad it is dark... that my misshapen body will not terrify you....\"\n\n\"Nothing about you could frighten me, my love,\" she whispered and reached out her hands for him. At the moment she meant it utterly, rapt in her own spell which had caught her too, knowing that this man, body and heart and soul, was in her hands. Yet, for all her magic, she was inexperienced, and she shrank away with real fear from the touch of his hardening manhood. He kissed and soothed and caressed her, and she felt the burning of the slack tide, the thick darkening of the hour of sorcery. At the very moment when it peaked she pulled him down to her, knowing that if she delayed until the new moon showed in the sky, she would lose much of her power." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He murmured, feeling her trembling, \"Nimue, Nimue-my little love-you area maiden-if you will, we can-pleasure one another and I need not take your virginity....\"\n\nSomething in that made her want to weep-that he, maddened by his desire, this heavy thing that twisted between them, could still so consider her... but she cried out, \"No! No! I want you,\" and pulled him down fiercely to her, taking her hands and guiding him into her, almost welcoming the sudden pain; the pain, the sudden blood, the peaking of his frenzied desire, woke alike frenzy in her, and she clung to him, gasping, encouraging him with her fierce cries. And then at the very last moment she held him away, while he gasped and pleaded, and she whispered-\"On your oath! You are mine?\"\n\n\"I swear it! Ah, I cannot bear-I cannot-let me-\" \"Wait! You swear it! You are mine! Say it!\"\n\n\"I swear, I swear by my soul-\"\n\n\"Yet a third time-you are mine-\"\n\n\"I am yours! I swear!\" And she felt his sudden spasm of fear, knowing what had happened, but now he was in the grip of his own frenzy, moving on her as if despairing, heaving and gasping, crying out as if in unendurable agony, and she felt the magical spell descending on her at the very moment of slack tide, as he cried out and fell heavily on her unresisting body, and she felt the spurting of his seed within her. He was still as death, and she trembled, feeling her breath charged as if with exhaustion. There was none of the pleasure she had heard spoken of, but there was something greater than pleasure-avast triumph. For the spell was heavy around them both, and she had his spirit and soul and essence. She felt with her hands his sperm that had mingled with the blood of her virginity at the very moment of the moon's turning. She took it on her fingers and marked his brow, and at the touch the spell came on him and he sat up, slack and lifeless." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Kevin,\" she said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Get to your horse and ride.\"\n\nHe rose, his movements leaden. He turned toward the horse and she knew that with this spell she must be precise.\n\n\"Garb yourself first,\" she said, and mechanically he drew on his robe, tying it about his waist. He moved stiffly, and by starlight she saw the gleam of his eyes; he knew, now, behind the domination of the spell, that she had betrayed him. Her throat tightened with agony and a wild tenderness, she wanted to pull him down again and takeaway the spell and cover his broken face with kisses, and weep and weep for the betrayal of their love.\n\nBut I too am sworn and it is fate.\n\nShe covered herself with her robe and took her horse and they rode silently away, taking the road to Avalon. At dawn Morgaine would have the boat waiting for them on the shore.\n\nSOME HOURS BEFORE DAWN, Morgaine waked from restless sleep, sensing that Nimue's work was done. Silently she robed herself, wakening Niniane and the attendant priestesses, who came slowly in her train down to the shore, wrapped in their dark robes and spotted deerskin tunics, hair braided in the single braid down their backs, and the black-handled sickle knives tied at their waists. They waited, silent, Niniane and Morgaine at their head, and as the sky began to flush pale pink with the first light, she motioned to the barge to castoff and watched it disappear in the mists.\n\nThey waited. The light strengthened, and just as the sun was rising, the boat appeared out of the mists again. Morgaine could see Nimue standing in the prow of the boat, her cloak pulled over her head, tall and straight; but her face was hidden in the darkness of the cloak. There was a slumped heap in the bottom of the boat." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "What has she done to him? Is he dead or enspelled? Morgaine found herself wishing that indeed he was dead, that he had taken his life in despair or terror. Twice she had raged at this man and called him traitor to Avalon, and the third time he had truly been traitor beyond question, taking the Holy Regalia forth from their hiding place. Oh, yes, he deserved death, even such a death as he should this morning die. She had spoken with the Druids, and they had agreed, one and all, that he should die in the oak grove, and that he should not die the swift death of mercy. Treachery of this sort had not been known in all of Britain since the days of Eilan, who had secretly married a son of the Roman proconsul and put forth pretended oracles to keep the Tribes from rising against the Romans. Eilan had died in the fire, and three of her priestesses with her and Kevin's deed was not treachery alone, but blasphemy, as when Eilan had meddled with the voice of the Goddess. And it must be punished.\n\nTwo of the barge crew helped the Merlin to his feet. He was half-clad, his robe loosely tied around him, barely concealing his nakedness. His hair was disheveled, his face blank... drugged or enchanted? He tried to walk, but without his sticks he reeled and caught for balance at the nearest support. Nimue stood frozen, not looking at him, her face still hidden in her cloak; but as the first rays of the sun arose, she put back the hood, and at that moment, touched by the first sunlight, the enchantment slid off Kevin's face, and Morgaine saw startled comprehension come into his eyes; he knew where he was and what had happened." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine saw him look at Nimue, blinking at the sight of the Avalon barge. And then all at once the whole knowledge of his betrayal came over his face, and he lowered his head in shock and shame.\n\nSo now he knows not only what it is to betray but to be betrayed.\n\nBut then she looked at Nimue. The girl was pale, her face bloodless, her longhair in disarray, though she had hastily tried to braid it. Nimue was looking at Kevin, and her lips trembled as she hastily turned her eyes away again.\n\nShe loved him, too; the spell rebounded on her. I should have known, Morgaine thought, that so powerful a spell would have rebounded on its maker.\n\nBut Nimue bowed low as Avalon custom demanded.\n\n\"Lady and Mother,\" she said, her voice toneless, \"I have brought you the traitor who betrayed the Holy Regalia.\"\n\nMorgaine stepped forward and embraced the girl, who shrank from the embrace. She said, \"Welcome back to us, Nimue, priestess, sister,\" and kissed the girl on her wet cheek. She could feel Nimue's misery through her whole body. Ah, Goddess, has this destroyed her too? If so, we have bought Kevin's life at too dear a price.\n\n\"Go now, Nimue,\" she added in compassion. \"Let them take you back to the House of Maidens-your work is done. You need not witness what must come after this, you have done your part and you have suffered enough.\"\n\nNimue whispered, \"What will become of-of him?\"\n\nMorgaine held her tight. \"Child, child, that need concern you not. You have done your part with strength and courage, it is enough.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nimue caught her breath as if she would weep, but she did not. She looked at Kevin, but he did not meet her eyes, and at last, shivering so hard she could hardly walk, she let two of the priestesses lead her away. Morgaine said in a low voice to them, \"Don't torment her with questions. Done is done. Let her be.\"\n\nWhen Nimue was gone, Morgaine turned back to Kevin. She met his eyes, and pain struck at her. This man had been her lover, but he had been more; he had been the only man who had never sought to entangle her in any political maneuvers, never sought to use her birth or high position, never asked anything of her save love. He had called her alive out of hell in Tintagel, he had come to her as the God, he had been perhaps her only friend, manor woman, in her entire life.\n\nShe forced her words through the tremendous pain in her throat. \"Well, Kevin Harper, false Merlin, forsworn Messenger, have you anything to say to her before you meet her judgment?\"\n\nKevin shook his head. \"Nothing that you would consider important, Lady of the Lake.\" She remembered, through a haze of pain, that he had been the first to yield to her this title.\n\n\"Be it so,\" she said, and felt her face like stone. \"Take him forth to judgment.\"\n\nHe took a single faltering step between his captors, then turned back and faced her, his head thrown back in defiance. \"No, wait,\" he said. \"I find I have a thing to say to you after all, Morgaine of Avalon. I told you once that my life was a small thing to forfeit for the Goddess, and I want you to know it is for her that I have done this.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Are you saying it is for the sake of the Goddess that you betrayed the Holy Regalia into the hands of the priests?\" Niniane demanded, and her voice cut with scorn. \"Why then, you are mad as well as forsworn! Take the traitor away!\" she commanded, but Morgaine signalled to them to wait.\n\n\"Let him be heard.\"\n\n\"It is even so,\" said Kevin. \"Lady, I said it once to you before this-the day of Avalon is ended. The Nazarene has conquered, and we must go into the mists further and further until we are no more than a legend and a dream. Would you then take the Holy Regalia with you into that darkness, preserving it carefully against the dawning of anew day that now shall never be? Even if Avalon must perish, I felt it right that the holy things should be sent forth into the world in the service of the Divine, by whatever name God or the Gods maybe called. And because of what I have done, the Goddess has manifested herself at least once in the world yonder, in away that shall never be forgotten. The passing of the Grail shall be remembered, my Morgaine, when you and I are only legends for the fireside and tales for children. I do not think that wasted, nor should you, who bore that chalice as her priestess. Now do with me what you will.\"\n\nMorgaine bent her head. The memory of that moment of ecstasy and revelation, when she had borne the Grail in the form of the Goddess, would remain with her until her death; and of those who had experienced the vision, whatever they might have seen, none of their lives would ever be the same. But now she must face Kevin in the person of the avenging Goddess, the Death-crone, the ravening sow who will devour her own young, the Great Raven, the Destroyer...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Yet he had given the Goddess this much. She reached out her hand to him... and stopped, for under her hand again she saw what once before she had seen, a skull beneath her fingers....\n\n... now he is fey, he sees his own death, and I see it too.... Yet he shall not suffer nor be tortured. He spoke truth; he has done what the Goddess has given him to do, and now must I do the same.... She waited until her voice was steady before she spoke. In the distance she heard a soft thundering.\n\nAt last she said, \"The Goddess is merciful. Take him to the oak grove, as is ordained, but there slay him swiftly with a single stroke. Bury him beneath the great oak, and let it henceforth be shunned now and forever by all men. Kevin, last of the Messengers of the Goddess, I curse you to forget all, to be reborn without priesthood and without enlightenment, that all you have done in your former lives be wiped away and your soul returned to the once-born. A hundred lifetimes shall you return, Kevin Harper, always seeking the Goddess and never finding her. Yet in the end, Kevin, once Merlin, I say to you-if she wants you, be very sure she will find you again.\"\n\nKevin looked straight at her. He smiled, that curious, sweet smile, and said, almost in a whisper, \"Farewell, then, Lady of the Lake. Tell Nimue I loved her... or it maybe that I will tell her myself. For I think it will be along, longtime before you and I shall meet again, Morgaine.\" And again soft thunder punctuated his words.\n\nMorgaine shivered as he limped away without looking back, supported on the arms of his captors." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Why do I feel so shamed?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I showed mercy; I could have had him tortured. They will call me, too, traitor and weakling, that he was not taken to the oak grove and there made to scream and pray for death till the very trees shrank from the sound.... Am I only a weakling, that I would not torture a man I once loved? Is his death to be so easy that the Goddess will then seek vengeance on me? So be it, even if I must meet the death I could not give him.\n\nShe flinched, looking into the grey storm clouds in the sky. Kevin has suffered all his lifelong. I will add nothing more than death to his fate. Lightning flared in the sky, and she thought, with a shiver-or was it only the cold wind that came with the sudden rush of the storm outside?-So passes the last of the great Merlins, into the storm that breaks now over Avalon.\n\nShe gestured to Niniane. \"Go. See my sentence done to the letter, that they slay him with a single stroke, and leave not his body above ground fora single hour.\" She saw the younger woman's gaze rest on her face; was it known, then, to everyone, that once they had been lovers? But Niniane only asked, \"And you?\"\n\n\"I go now to Nimue. She will need me.\"\n\nBut Nimue was not in her room in the House of Maidens, nor anywhere in the house, nor, when Morgaine hurried across the rain-swept courts, was she in the secluded house where she had dwelt with Raven. She was not anywhere in the temple, and one of the attendant priestesses told Morgaine that Nimue had refused food or wine or even a bath. Morgaine, terrible apprehension growing in her with every flash of lightning as the storm grew and raged, called for all the servants of the temple to search for her; but before they could Niniane came, her face white, attended by the men she had sent to see Kevin's death done as Morgaine had decreed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What is it?\" Morgaine demanded, her voice cold. \"Why was my sentence not done?\"\n\n\"He was slain with a single stroke, Lady of the Lake,\" Niniane whispered, \"but with the very stroke came lightning from the sky and struck the great oak-cleft it in twain. There is a great rift in the sacred oak, from the sky to the ground....\"\n\nMorgaine felt steel clamp around her throat. Nothing so strange, that with the storm should come the lightning flash, and ever the lightning strikes at the highest point. But that it should come in the same hour wherein Kevin prophesied the end of Avalon...\n\nShe shivered again, wrapping her arms about herself under her cloak so that those who looked on her should not see her trembling. How could she turn this omen, for omen it surely was, aside from the impending destruction of Avalon?\n\n\"The God has prepared a place for the traitor. Bury him, then, within the cleft in the oak....\"\n\nThey bowed acquiescence and went away, through thunder and the sudden rattle of rain, and Morgaine, distraught, realized that she had forgotten Nimue. But a voice within her said, Now it is too late.\n\nThey found her at high noon, just as the sun came out after the storm, floating among the reeds of the Lake. Her longhair was spread out on the surface like water weeds, and Morgaine, stunned with grief, could not find it in her heart to regret that Kevin had not gone alone into the shadowed land beyond death.\n\nMorgaine thought often, in the bleak days which followed upon Kevin's death, now indeed the Goddess had taken it upon herself to destroy the Companions of the Round Table. But why had it been her will to destroy Avalon too?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I am growing old. Raven is dead and Nimue is dead, who should have been Lady after me. And the Goddess has laid her hand upon no other to be her prophetess. Kevin lies entombed within the oak. What of Avalon now?\n\nIt seemed that the world was shifting, that beyond the mists the world moved at an ever-accelerating pace. No one save herself and one or two of the oldest priestesses could open the gateway through the mists, and there was now little reason to try. And there were times when she walked abroad and could see neither sun nor moon, and she knew that she had strayed over the borders of the fairy country; but she saw only the rarest glimpses of the fairy folk among the trees, nor did she ever again have sight of the queen.\n\nShe wondered if indeed the Goddess had deserted them, for some of the maidens from the House of Maidens had gone again into the world, and others strayed into the fairy country and did not return again.\n\nThe Goddess came forth for the last time into the world when she bore the Grail through Arthur's hall at Camelot, Morgaine thought, and then, confused, she asked herself whether the Goddess had truly borne the Grail, or had it only been herself and Raven working illusion?\n\nI have called on the Goddess and found her within myself.\n\nAnd Morgaine knew that never again would she have the ability to seek beyond herself for comfort or counsel; she could look only within. No priestess, no prophetess, no Druid or councillor, no Goddess now to turn to; none but her unguided self. Now and again, when, as the habit of a lifetime bade her, she sought to call up the image of the Goddess to guide her, she saw nothing, or sometimes the face of Igraine-not the elderly, priest-ridden wife and widow of Uther, but the young and beautiful mother who had first laid these burdens on her, who had bidden her care for Arthur and given her into the hands of Viviane. And now and again she would seethe face of Viviane, who had sent her to the bed of the Horned One, or Raven, who had stood at her side during that great moment of invocation." }, { "from": "human", "value": "They are the Goddess." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And I am the Goddess. And there is no other.\n\nShe cared little to look into her magical mirror, but now and again when the moon was dark she went to drink of the spring and to look into the waters. But she saw only tantalizing glimpses: the Companions of the Round Table rode this way and that, following dreams and glimmers of vision and the Sight, but none found the true Grail. Some forgot the quest and rode openly in search of adventure; some met with more of adventure than they could manage, and so died; some did good deeds, and some evil. One or two, in piercing visions of faith, dreamed their own Grail and so died. Others, following the message of their own visions, went on pilgrimage to the Holy Lands; and others still, following a wind that was blowing all through the world in these days, withdrew into solitude and the hermit life, seeking, in crude caves and shelters, the life of silence and penitence-but what visions came to them, whether of the Grail or of some other thing, Morgaine never knew nor cared.\n\nOnce or twice she had glimpses of a face she knew. She saw Mordred at Camelot, at Arthur's side. Galahad, too, she saw as he sought the Grail; but then she saw him no more, and wondered if the quest had claimed him to death.\n\nAnd once she saw Lancelet, half naked, clad in animal skins, his hair long and ragged, without armor or sword, running in the forest, and the gleam of madness was in his eyes; well, she had guessed that this quest might lead him only to madness and despair. Still she sought him again in the mirror, from moon to moon, but fora longtime she had no success. Then she saw him sleeping, ragged and naked, on straw somewhere, and the walls of a prison or dungeon rose about him... and then she saw him no more. Ah, Gods, has he gone too... with so many of Arthur's men.... Truly the Grail was no blessing to Arthur's court, but a curse.... And rightly so, a curse to the traitor who would have profaned it... And now is it gone forever from Avalon." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Fora longtime Morgaine believed that the Grail had been taken away by the Goddess into the realms of the Gods, so that mankind might never again profane it, and she was content that it should be so; for it had been defiled with the wine of the Christians, which somehow was blood as well as wine, and she had no notion of how to cleanse it.\n\nWhispers came from the outside world to Morgaine through some of the old brotherhood of priests who came in these days to Avalon; Christians, some of them, of the old ones who had once worshipped beside the Druids, in their firm belief that their Christ had once lived hereon Avalon and been taught wisdom. Now, fleeing from the enforced conformity of that new breed of Christians who would wipe out all other worship but their own, they came to Avalon, and from them Morgaine heard something of the Grail.\n\nThe priests were now saying that it was indeed the true cup from which Christ had drunk at his Last Supper, and that it had been taken away into Heaven whence it would never again be seen in the world. Yet also there were rumors that it had been seen on that other isle, Ynis Witrin, sparkling in the depths of their well, that well which on Avalon was the holy mirror of the Goddess; and therefore the priests on Ynis Witrin had begun to call it the Well of the Chalice.\n\nAnd when the old priests had dwelt fora time upon Avalon, Morgaine began to hear rumors that now and again the Grail had been seen, fora moment, upon their altar. That must be as the Goddess wills. They will not profane it. But she knew not whether it was truly therein the ancient church of the Christian brotherhood... which was built on the very spot of the church on the other island, so that they said that, when the mists thinned, the ancient brotherhood on Avalon could hear the monks chanting in their church on Ynis Witrin. Morgaine remembered the day when the mists had thinned to let Gwenhwyfar through to Avalon." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Time ran strangely now upon Avalon. Morgaine did not know whether that twelvemonth and a day to which the knights were vowed had passed or not, and sometimes she thought that indeed years must have passed in the outside world....\n\nShe thought long on the words Kevin had spoken:... the mists are closing on Avalon.\n\nAnd then, one day, she was summoned to the shores of the Lake, but she needed no Sight to tell her who stood in the barge. Avalon had once been his home too. Lancelet's hair was all grey now and his face thin and haggard, but as he stepped from the boat, with only the shadow of his old light-footed grace, she stepped forward and took his hands, and she could see in his face no trace of madness.\n\nHe looked into her eyes, and suddenly it seemed that she was the Morgaine of the old days, when Avalon was a temple alive with priestesses and Druids and not a solitary land adrift in the mists with a bare handful of aging priestesses, a few elderly Druids, a handful of half-forgotten ancient Christians.\n\n\"How is it that you are so untouched by time, Morgaine?\" he asked her. \"All seems changed, even herein Avalon-look, even the ring stones are hidden in the mists!\"\n\n\"Oh, they are still there,\" Morgaine said, \"though some of us would lose our way if we sought them now.\" And like a pain in her heart she remembered a day-ah, it was a lifetime ago!-when she and Lancelet had lain together in the shadow of the stones. \"I think perhaps they will one day go altogether into the mists, and thus never be torn down by human hands or the winds of time. There are none to worship at them now... even the Beltane fires are no longer lighted on Avalon, though I have heard that they keep the old rites still in the wildnesses of North Wales and in Cornwall. The little people will never let them die while any of them survive. I am surprised that you were able to come here, kinsman.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He smiled, and now she could seethe traces of pain and grief-yes, even of madness-around his eyes. \"Why, I hardly knew it was hither I came, cousin. My memory plays tricks on me, now. I was mad, Morgaine. I castaway my sword and lived like an animal in the forests, and then there was a time, I know not how long, that I was confined in a strange dungeon.\"\n\n\"I saw it,\" she whispered. \"I knew not what it meant.\"\n\n\"Nor did I, nor do I yet,\" Lancelet said. \"I remember very little of that time-it is God's blessing, I think, that I cannot remember what I might have done. I think it was not the first time-there were times, during those years with Elaine, that I hardly knew what I did....\"\n\n\"But you are well now,\" she said quickly. \"Come and breakfast with me, cousin-it is too early for anything else, for whatever reason you came here.\"\n\nHe followed her, and Morgaine took him into her dwelling; except for her attendant priestesses, he was the first person who had entered it in years. There was fish from the Lake, this morning, and she served him with her own hands.\n\n\"Ah, this is good,\" he said, and ate hungrily-she wondered how long it had been since he had last remembered to eat. His hair was as fastidiously combed as ever, his curly hair-all grey now, and patches of white in his beard-neatly trimmed, and his cloak, though shabby and travel-worn, was neatly brushed and clean. He saw her glance at the cloak and laughed a little.\n\n\"In the old days I would not have used this cloak fora saddle blanket,\" he said. \"I lost cloak and sword and armor, I know not where-it maybe that I was robbed of them in some evil adventure, or cast them away in madness. I know only that one day I heard someone speak my name, and it was one of the Companions-Lamorak, perhaps, though it is still very hazy in my mind. I was too weak to travel, but though he rode on the next day, I began slowly to remember who I was, and they gave me a gown and let me sit to table to eat with my knife instead of throwing me scraps in a wooden piggin-\" His laugh was shaky, nervous. \"Even when I knew not that I was Lancelet, I had still my accursed strength, and I think I had done some of them harm. I think I lost the best part of a year out of my life.... I remember only little things, and the main thought in my mind was never to let them know I was Lancelet, lest I bring shame on the Companions or Arthur...\" He fell silent, and Morgaine guessed at his torment by what he did not say. \"Well, slowly I grew strong enough to travel, and Lamorak had left money fora horse and goods for me. But most of that year is darkness-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He picked up the remaining bread on his plate and resolutely mopped up the scraps offish. Morgaine asked him, \"What of the quest?\"\n\n\"What indeed? I have heard a little,\" he said, \"here and there, here and there, as I rode in the land. Gawaine was the first to return to Camelot.\"\n\nMorgaine smiled, almost against her will. \"He was always fickle-to everything and everyone.\"\n\n\"Except to Arthur,\" Lancelet said. \"He is more loyal to Arthur than any of his dogs! And I met with Gareth as I rode hither.\"\n\nMorgaine said, \"Dear Gareth, he is the best of Morgause's sons! What said he to you?\"\n\n\"He said he had had a vision,\" Lancelet said slowly, \"which bade him return to court and do his duty by his king and his lands, and not to delay, loitering about and seeking visions of holy things. And he talked along time with me, begging me to lay aside the quest of the Grail and return to Camelot with him.\"\n\n\"I am surprised you did not,\" Morgaine said.\n\nHe smiled. \"I am surprised too, kinswoman. And I have promised to return as soon as I can.\" Suddenly, his face grew grave. \"Gareth told me,\" he said, \"that Mordred is always about Arthur now. And when I would not return to court with him, he told me this-that what I could best do for Arthur was to find Galahad and bid him return at once to Avalon, for he mistrusted Mordred and his influence upon Arthur.... I am sorry to speak ill of your son, Morgaine.\"\n\nMorgaine said, \"He told me once that Galahad would not live to rule... yet he swore tome, by an oath I do not think he would dare break, that he would have no hand in his death.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lancelet looked troubled. \"I have seen many evil adventures that may befall on this accursed quest. God grant that I can find Galahad before he falls prey to one of them!\" A silence fell between them, while Morgaine thought, I knew it in my heart-this was why Mordred refused the quest. She realized, quite suddenly, that she had ceased to believe that her son Gwydion-Mordred-would ever now be King from Avalon. She wondered when she had begun to accept that in her heart. Perhaps it had been when Accolon died and the Goddess did not stretch forth her hand to protect her chosen.\n\nGalahad will be King, and he will be a Christian king.\n\nAnd that may well mean that he will kill Gwydion. What of the King Stag, when the young stag is grown? But if the day of Avalon had ended, perhaps Galahad would take his throne in peace, without the need to kill his rival.\n\nLancelet laid down the remnant of apiece of bread and honey and looked past her at the corner of the room. \"Is that Viviane's harp?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" she said. \"I left mine at Tintagel. But I suppose it is yours by right of inheritance if you want it.\"\n\n\"I play no longer, nor do I have any will to make music, Morgaine. By right it is yours, as are all other things which belonged to my mother.\"\n\nMorgaine recalled words which had cut her to the heart-again, a lifetime ago!-7 would that you were not so much like my mother, Morgaine! Now the memory held no pain, but warmth; Viviane was not gone entirely from the world if something survived in her. He said, stumbling, \"There are now so few of us-so few who recall the old days at Caerleon-even at Camelot-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Arthur is there,\" she said, \"and Gawaine, and Gareth, and Cai, and many more, my dear. And no doubt they ask one another with everyday, Where is Lancelet? Why are you here, and not there?\"\n\n\"I said, my mind plays me tricks-I hardly knew I came hither,\" Lancelet said. \"Yet now I am here, I should ask-I heard Nimue was here,\" and she remembered: she had told him this, once, when he had thought his daughter at the convent where once Gwenhwyfar had been. \"I should ask, what has become of her-is she well, does she thrive among the priestesses?\"\n\n\"I am sorry,\" Morgaine said. \"It seems I have nothing but ill news for you-Nimue died, a year ago.\"\n\nMore than this she would not say. Lancelet knew nothing of the Merlin's betrayal, or of Nimue's last visit to the court. It could only grieve him to know the rest. He asked no questions, only sighed heavily, and cast his eyes on the floor. At last he said without looking up, \"And the baby-little Gwenhwyfar-she is married, and in Less Britain, and this quest has swallowed Galahad. I never knew any of my children. I never tried to know them-it seemed tome they were all I could give Elaine, and so I left them to her almost entirely, even the boy. I rode fora time with Galahad when first we departed from Camelot, and I knew more of him in the ten days and nights we rode together than in all the sixteen years he had lived. I think perhaps he would make a good king, if he lives....\"\n\nHe looked at Morgaine, almost pleading, and she knew he was longing for reassurance, but she had no comfort for him. At last she said, \"If he lives, he will be a good king, but I think he will be a Christian king.\" It seemed that fora moment all the sounds of Avalon were hushed around her, as if the very waves of the Lake and the whispering sound of the reeds on the border were silent to hear her say it. \"If lie survives the quest of the Grail-or if he should abandon it-still his rule will be circled about by the priests, and through all the land there will be only one God and only one religion.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Would that be such a tragedy, Morgaine?\" Lancelet asked quietly. \"All through this land, the Christian God is bringing a spiritual rebirth here-is that an evil thing, when mankind has forgotten the Mysteries?\"\n\n\"They have not forgotten the Mysteries,\" she said, \"they have found them too difficult. They want a God who will care for them, who will not demand that they struggle for enlightenment, but who will accept them just as they are, with all their sins, and takeaway their sins with repentance. It is not so, it will never be so, but perhaps it is the only way the unenlightened can bear to think of their Gods.\"\n\nLancelet smiled bitterly. \"Perhaps a religion which demands that every man must work through lifetime after lifetime for his own salvation is too much for mankind. They want not to wait for God's justice, but to see it now. And that is the lure which this new breed of priests has promised them.\"\n\nMorgaine knew that he spoke truth, and bowed her head in anguish. \"And since their view of a God is what shapes their reality, so it shall be-the Goddess was real while mankind still paid homage to her, and created her form for themselves. Now they will make for themselves the kind of God they think they want-the kind of God they deserve, perhaps.\"\n\nWell, so it must be, for as man saw reality, so it became. While the ancient Gods, the Goddess, were seen as benevolent or life-giving, so indeed had nature been to them; and when the priests had taught men to think of all nature as evil, alien, hostile, and the old Gods as demons, even so they would become, surging up from within that part of man which he now wished to sacrifice or control, instead of letting it lead him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She said, remembering at random something she had read when she had looked into the books of Uriens' house priest in Wales, \"And so all men will become even as that apostle who wrote that they should become as eunuchs for the Kingdom of God... I think I care not to live within that world, Lancelet.\"\n\nThe weary knight sighed and shook his head. \"I think I care not for it either, Morgaine. Yet perhaps it will be a simpler world than ours, and it will be easier to know what is right to do. So I came to seek Galahad, for though he will be a Christian king, I think he would be a better king than Mordred....\"\n\nMorgaine clenched her hands under the edge of her sleeves. I am not the Goddess! It is-it is not mine to choose! \"You came-hereto seek him, Lancelet? He was never one of us. My son Gwydion-Mordred-he was reared at Avalon. If he left Arthur's court he might come here. But Galahad? He was as pious as Elaine-he would scorn to set foot in this world of witchcraft and fairy!\"\n\n\"But as I told you, I knew not that I came here,\" said Lancelet. \"I sought to reach Ynis Witrin and the Isle of the Priests, for I heard a rumor of a magical brightness which comes and goes in the church there, and they have renamed their Well, I have heard, the Well of the Chalice-I thought perhaps Galahad rode this way. Another old habit brought me here.\"\n\nShe asked him seriously then, face to face, \"What do you think of this quest, Lancelet?\"\n\n\"I know not, truly, cousin,\" said Lancelet. \"When I took this quest on me, I went as once I went to kill old Pellinore's dragon-do you remember that, Morgaine? None of us believed in it then, and yet I did in the end find that dragon and slay it. Yet I know that something, something of great holiness, came into Camelot that day we saw the Grail.\" And when she would have spoken, he said vehemently, \"No, tell me not that I imagined it, Morgaine-you were not there, you do not know what it was like! For the first time, I felt that there was a Mystery somewhere which was beyond this life. And so I went on this quest, though half of me felt it was mad-and I rode awhile with Galahad, and it seemed that his faith mocked mine, because he was so pure and his faith so simple and good, and I was old and stained-\" Lancelet stared down at the floor, and she saw him swallow hard. \"That is why, in the end, I parted from him, lest I damage that shining faith... and then I know not where I went, for the fog came down over my mind, and the darkness, and it seemed that Galahad must-must know all the sins of my life and he must despise me for them.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His voice had risen in excitement, and fora moment Morgaine saw the unhealthy brightness returning to his eyes, as she had seen it in the naked man running in the forest. She said quickly, \"Don't think of that time, my dear. It is over.\"\n\nHe drew along, shuddering breath and she saw his eyes fade. \"My quest now is to seek Galahad. I know not what he saw-an angel maybe-or why the call of the Grail came so strongly to some and so little to others. Of all the knights, I think only Mordred saw nothing, or if he did he kept it to himself.\"\n\nMy son was reared at Avalon; he would not have been deceived by the magic of the Goddess, Morgaine thought, and was about to speak and tell Lancelet what he had seen-he had been, in youth, an initiate of Avalon and he should not be allowed to think of it as some mystery of the Christians. But, hearing again that strange note in Lancelet's voice, she bent her head and said nothing. The Goddess had given him a vision of comfort; it was not for her to destroy it with a word.\n\nShe had sought this, she had worked for it. Arthur had forsaken the Goddess, and the Goddess had scattered his fellowship with a wind blowing from her holy place. And the final irony was this: that her holiest of visions should inspire the most passionate legend of Christian worship. Morgaine said at last, reaching out her hand to him, \"Sometimes I believe, Lancelet, that it does not matter what we do. The Gods move us as they will, whatever it is that we think that we are doing. We are no more than their pawns.\"\n\n\"If I believed that,\" said Lancelet, \"I should go mad once and for all.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Move the story forward in your role as narrative aide.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 14" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His voice had risen in excitement, and fora moment Morgaine saw the unhealthy brightness returning to his eyes, as she had seen it in the naked man running in the forest. She said quickly, \"Don't think of that time, my dear. It is over.\"\n\nHe drew along, shuddering breath and she saw his eyes fade. \"My quest now is to seek Galahad. I know not what he saw-an angel maybe-or why the call of the Grail came so strongly to some and so little to others. Of all the knights, I think only Mordred saw nothing, or if he did he kept it to himself.\"\n\nMy son was reared at Avalon; he would not have been deceived by the magic of the Goddess, Morgaine thought, and was about to speak and tell Lancelet what he had seen-he had been, in youth, an initiate of Avalon and he should not be allowed to think of it as some mystery of the Christians. But, hearing again that strange note in Lancelet's voice, she bent her head and said nothing. The Goddess had given him a vision of comfort; it was not for her to destroy it with a word.\n\nShe had sought this, she had worked for it. Arthur had forsaken the Goddess, and the Goddess had scattered his fellowship with a wind blowing from her holy place. And the final irony was this: that her holiest of visions should inspire the most passionate legend of Christian worship. Morgaine said at last, reaching out her hand to him, \"Sometimes I believe, Lancelet, that it does not matter what we do. The Gods move us as they will, whatever it is that we think that we are doing. We are no more than their pawns.\"\n\n\"If I believed that,\" said Lancelet, \"I should go mad once and for all.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine smiled sadly and said, \"And if I did not believe it, I should perhaps go mad. I must believe that I had no power to do other than I have done.\"\n\n... must believe that I never had a choice... a choice to refuse the king-making, a choice to destroy Mordred unborn, a choice to refuse when Arthur gave me to Uriens, a choice to hold back my hand from the death of Avalloch, a choice to keep Accolon at my side... a choice to spare Kevin Harper a traitor's death, and Nimue...\n\nLancelet said, \"And I must believe that man has the power to know the right, to choose between good and evil and know that his choice has made a difference...\"\n\n\"Oh, aye,\" Morgaine said, \"if he knows what good is. But does it not seem to you, cousin, that ever, in this world, evil wears the face of good? Sometimes I feel it is the Goddess who makes the wrong appear the right, and the only thing we can do-\"\n\n\"Why then, the Goddess would be just such a fiend as the priests say she is,\" said Lancelet.\n\n\"Lancelet,\" she said, leaning forward to plead with him, \"never blame yourself. You did what you must! Believe only that it was your fate and ordained-\"\n\n\"No, or I should slay myself at once, so that the Goddess could not make use of me to bring about more evil,\" said Lancelet vehemently. \"Morgaine, you have the Sight, and I cannot-I cannot believe it is God's will that Arthur and his court shall fall into Mordred's hands! I told you I came hither because my mind played tricks on me. Without thinking, I called the Avalon barge tome and came here, but now, I think, perhaps I wrought better than I knew. You, who have the Sight, can look within the mirror and see for me where Galahad has gone! I will even brave his anger and demand that he leave this quest and return to Camelot-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "The ground seemed to quiver beneath Morgaine's feet." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Once she had stepped unwary into a patch of quicksand and had felt the mud shiver and slip sidewise; it was like that, as if she must throw herself at once to safe ground... she heard herself say, as if very faraway, \"You will indeed return to Camelot with your son, Lancelet-\" and wondered why the cold seemed to suck at her very vitals. \"I will look into the mirror for you, kinsman. But I know Galahad not, I may not see anything which is of use to you.\"\n\n\"Yet tell me you will do what you can,\" Lancelet pleaded, and she said, \"I have told you I will look into the mirror. But it will be with us as the Goddess wills. Come.\"\n\nThe sun was high now, and as they walked down the hill toward the Sacred Well, a raven croaked once overhead. Lancelet crossed himself against the evil omen, but Morgaine looked up and said, \"What did you say, sister?\"\n\nRaven's voice said in her mind, Be not afraid. Mordred will not kill Galahad. And Arthur will kill Mordred.\n\nShe said aloud, \"Arthur will be King Stag still....\"\n\nLancelet turned and stared at her. \"What did you say, Morgaine?\"\n\nRaven said in her mind, Not to the Holy Well, but to the chapel, and now. It is the time ordained.\n\nLancelet asked, \"Where are we going? Have I forgotten the way to the Holy Well?\" and Morgaine, raising her head, realized that her steps had brought them, not to the Well, but to the little chapel where the ancient Christian brotherhood held their services. They said it had been built by the brotherhood when the ancient Joseph had thrust his staff into the ground on the hill called Wearyall. She putout her hand and took a sprig of the Holy Thorn; it pricked her finger to the bone, and hardly knowing what she did, she putout her hand and marked Lancelet's forehead with the streak of blood." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He looked at her, startled. She could hear the priests singing softly, Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison. She went in quietly and knelt down to her own surprise. The chapel was filled with mist, and it seemed to Morgaine that through the mist she could see that other chapel, the one on Ynis Witrin, and hear both sets of voices singing... Kyrie eleison... and there were women's voices too; yes, this must be on Ynis Witrin, for in the chapel on Avalon there were no women, these must be the nuns in the convent there. It seemed fora moment that Igraine knelt beside her and she heard her voice, clear and soft, singing Christe eleison. The priest was at the altar, and then it seemed to her as if Nimue was there, her golden hair hanging down her back, fair and lovely as Gwenhywfar had been when she was a young maiden in the convent. But instead of the old jealous fury, Morgaine looked on her with the purest love for her beauty... the mists thickened; she could hardly see Lancelet kneeling at her side, but before her, kneeling at the altar in the other chapel, she could see Galahad with his face raised, shining, and on it was the reflected brightness... and she knew that he, too, saw through the mists, into the chapel hereon Avalon, where the Grail stood....\n\nShe heard from the other chapel a ring of tiny bells, and heard... she never knew which of the priests, the one herein Avalon, or the one on Ynis Witrin... but in her mind it was the gentle voice of Taliesin... murmuring, \"For in that night in which the Christ was betrayed, our Master took the cup and blessed it, and said, All of you drink of this, for this is my blood which will be shed for you. So often as ye drink of this cup, do it ever in remembrance of me.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She could seethe shadow of the priest who lifted the cup of communion, yet it was the damsel of the Grail, Nimue... or was it she herself who set the cup to his lips? Lancelet rushed forward, crying out, \"Ah-the light, the light-!\" and dropped to his knees, his hands shielding his eyes, then slipped further forward and lay prone on the ground.\n\nUnder the touch of the Grail, the shadowed face of the young man became clear, solid, real, and the mists were gone; Galahad knelt and drank of the cup.\n\n\"For as the wine of many grapes was crushed to make a single wine, so as we unite in this bloodless and perfect sacrifice, then shall we all become One in the Great Light which is Infinite....\"\n\nAnd even as the rapture glowed through his face, the light shining there, he drew a great breath of absolute joy, and looked full into the light. He reached out to grasp the cup in his hands... and fell forward, slithered to the floor of the chapel, and he too lay there without moving.\n\nIt is death to touch the holy things unprepared....\n\nMorgaine saw Nimue-or was it she herself?-cover Galahad's face with a white veil. And then Nimue was gone, and the cup was standing on the altar, only the gold cup of the Mysteries, without any trace of the unearthly light... she was not sure it was there... it was surrounded by mist. And Galahad lay dead on the floor of the chapel in Avalon, cold and still beside Lancelet.\n\nIT WAS along time before Lancelet stirred, and as he raised his head, Morgaine saw that his face was shadowed with tragedy. He whispered, \"And I was not worthy to follow him.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You must take him back to Camelot,\" Morgaine said gently." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"He has won the quest of the Grail-but it was his final quest. He could not bear that light.\"\n\n\"Nor could I,\" Lancelet whispered. \"Look, the light is still on his face. What did he see?\"\n\nSlowly, she shook her head, feeling the cold rise up her arms. \"Neither you nor I will ever know that, Lancelet. I know only this-that he died with the Grail at his lips.\"\n\nLancelet looked up at the altar. The priests had gone quietly away, leaving Morgaine alone with the dead and the living; and the cup, surrounded in mist, still gleamed there, softly glowing.\n\nLancelet rose. He said, \"Yes. And this shall comeback with me to Camelot, that all men may know the quest is ended... and no more knights seeking the unknown to die or go mad...\"\n\nHe took one step toward the altar where the Grail gleamed, but Morgaine flung her arms around him and held him back.\n\n\"No! No! It is not for you! The very sight of it struck you down! It is death to touch the holy things unprepared-\"\n\n\"Then I shall die for it,\" he said, but she held him hard, and soon she felt him give way. He said, \"Why, Morgaine? Why must this suicidal folly goon?\"\n\n\"No,\" she said, \"the quest of the Grail is ended. You were spared to return to Camelot and tell them that. But you cannot take it back to Camelot. No man can hold and confine it. Those who seek it in faith\"-she heard her own voice, though she did not know what she was going to say until she said it-\"will always find it-here, beyond the mortal lands. But if it should go back with you to Camelot, it would fall into the hands of the narrowest of the priests, and become a pawn for them....\" She could feel the tears thickening her voice. \"I beg of you, Lancelet. Leave it herein Avalon. Let there be, in this new world without magic, one Mystery the priests cannot describe and define once and for all, cannot put within their narrow dogma of what is and what is not...\" Her voice broke. \"In the day which is coming, the priests will tell mankind what is good and what is evil, what to think, what to pray, what to believe. I cannot see to the end-perhaps mankind must have a time of darkness so that we will one day again know what a blessing is the light. But in that darkness, Lancelet, let there be one glimmer of hope. The Grail came once to Camelot. Let the memory of that passing never be sullied by seeing it captive on some worldly altar. Leave one Mystery and one source of vision for man to follow...\" She heard her voice go dry until it seemed like the croaking of the last of ravens." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Lancelet bowed down before her." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Morgaine, or are you truly Morgaine? I think I do not know who or what you are. But what you say is true. Let the Grail remain forever in Avalon.\"\n\nMorgaine raised her hand, and the little folk of Avalon came and lifted up Galahad's body, bearing it silently to the Avalon barge. Lancelet's hand still in her own, Morgaine walked down to the shore, where she looked at the body lying in the boat. Fora moment it seemed that Arthur lay there, then the vision wavered and vanished, and it was only Galahad, with that uncanny peace and light on his face.\n\n\"Now you ride to Camelot with your son,\" said Morgaine quietly, \"but not as I foresaw. I think the Sight is given to mock us-we see what the Gods give us to see, but we know never what it means. I think I will never use the Sight more, kinsman.\"\n\n\"God grant it.\" Lancelet took her hands in his own fora moment; then he bent and kissed them.\n\n\"And so at last we part,\" he said softly. And then, for all she had said of refusing the Sight, she saw in his eyes what he saw when he looked at her-the maiden with whom he had lain in the ring stones and from whom he had turned away from fear of the Goddess; the woman he had gone to in a frenzy of desire, trying to blot out the guilt of his love for Gwenhwyfar and Arthur; the woman he had seen pale and terrible, holding aloft the torch when they had taken him in Elaine's bed; and now the dark, quiet Lady, shadowed in lights, who had lifted his son from the Grail and pleaded with him to leave it forever outside the world." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She leaned forward and kissed him on the brow. There was no need for words; they both knew it was farewell and benediction. As slowly he turned from her and stepped into the magical barge, Morgaine watched the droop of his shoulders and saw the glint of the setting sun on his hair. It was all white now; and Morgaine, seeing herself again in his eyes, thought, I too am old....\n\nAnd now she knew why she had never again caught sight of the queen within the land of Fairy.\n\nI am the queen now.\n\nThere is no Goddess but this, and I am she...\n\nAnd yet beyond this, she is, as she is in Igraine and Viviane and Morgause and Nimue and the queen. And they live in me too, and she...\n\nAnd within Avalon they live forever.\n\nFar to the north, in the country of Lothian, word came seldom and unreliably of the quest for the Grail. Morgause waited for the return of her young lover, Lamorak. And then, half a year later, word came to her that he had died on the quest. He was not the first, she thought, and he will not be the last to die of this monstrous madness, leading men to seek for the unknown! Always I have thought that religions and Gods were a form of madness. Look what they have brought on Arthur! And now they have taken my Lamorak, still so young!\n\nWell, he was gone, and though she missed him and would always miss him in her own way-he had been at her side longer than any other, save only Lot-she need not resign herself to old age and a solitary bed. She scanned herself in her old bronze mirror, sponged away the marks of her tears, then surveyed herself again. If she no longer had quite the full-blown beauty that had brought Lamorak, dazzled, to her feet, she was still a good-looking woman; there were still enough men in the land, and not all of them could have been caught by this questing madness. She was rich, she was Queen of Lothian, and she had her woman's weapons-she was still handsome, with all her own teeth, though now she must blacken her fading eyebrows and eyelashes... they were such a pale-gingery color now. Well, there would always be men; they were all fools, and a clever woman could do with them what she liked. She was no fool like Morgaine, to fret over devotion or virtue, nor a whining idiot like Gwenhwyfar, to think always about her soul." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "From time to time some tale of the quest, each one more fabulous than the last, would reach her. Lamorak, she heard, had comeback at last to Pellinore's castle, drawn by an old rumor of a magical dish that was kept therein a crypt beneath the castle, and there he had died, crying out that the Grail floated before him in the hands of a maiden, in the hands of his sister, Elaine, as she had been in childhood... she wondered what he had really seen. Word came, too, from the country near the Roman wall that Lancelet was dungeoned somewhere in sir Ectorius\" old country as a madman, and that no one dared send word to King Arthur; then she heard that his brother Bors had come and recognized him, and he had come to his wits and ridden away, whether to follow the quest further or to ride back to Camelot she neither knew nor cared. Perhaps, she thought, with luck he too would die on this quest; otherwise the lure of Gwenhwyfar would draw him back yet again to Arthur and his court.\n\nOnly her sensible Gwydion had not gone on the quest, but had remained at Camelot, close to Arthur's side. Would that Gawaine and Gareth had had the wit to do the same! Now at last her sons had come into the place that should always have been theirs with Arthur.\n\nYet she had another way to know what was happening. Viviane had told her, in her youth at Avalon, that she had not the patience nor the hardihood for initiation into the Mysteries, and Viviane-she knew it now-had been right; who would wish to forsake life for so long as that? For many years she had believed that the doors of magic and of the Sight were closed to her, save for such little tricks as she had mastered on her own. And then she had begun to understand, when first she had used her sorcery to discover Gwydion's parentage, that the magical art was there, awaiting her, needing nothing but her will; having nothing to do with the complex Druidical rules and limitations about its use, or lies about the Gods. It was simply apart of life, there and accessible, nothing to do with good or evil, but available to anyone who had the will and the ruthlessness to use it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "All those who pretend to religions, Morgause thought, wish only to keep the sources of power in their own hands. But now I have them freely and of my own making, without binding myself by oaths about their use or direction.\n\nSo now, on this night, shut away from her servants, she made her preparations. She felt a dispassionate sympathy for the white dog she had brought in, and a moment of genuine revulsion as she cut its throat and set forth the dish of hot blood she had caught; but, after all, it washer own dog, as much hers as a pig she might have slaughtered for the table, and the power of spilled blood was stronger and more direct than the power built up by the long prayers and disciplines of the Avalon priesthood. Before the fireplace, one of her servant-women was lying, drugged and ready, before the fireplace; not one, this time, for whom she had any affection or any real need. She had learned that lesson when last she had attempted this. She spared a regretful thought for the waste of a good spinning woman that time; at least this one would be no loss to anyone, not even the cook who had half a dozen more helpers than she needed.\n\nShe still felt a certain squeamishness at the preliminaries. The blood marking her hands and forehead was unpleasantly sticky, but it seemed to her that she could almost see, billowing forth from the blood like smoke, the thin streams of magical power. The moon had shrunk to the thinnest of glimmers in the sky, and she knew the one who awaited her call in Camelot would be ready. At the precise moment the moon moved into the proper quarter of the sky, she poured the rest of the blood into the fire and called three times aloud.\n\n\"Morag! Morag! Morag!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "The drugged woman by the fireside-Morgause vaguely recalled that her name was Becca, or something like that-stirred, her vague eyes taking on depth and purpose, and fora moment, as she arose, it seemed that she was wearing the elegant garb of one of Gwenhwyfar's waiting-women." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her voice, too, was not the rough dialect of the dim-witted country girl, but the careful speech of a southern court lady.\n\n\"I am here at your call. What would you have of me, Queen of the Darkness?\"\n\n\"Tell me of the court. What of the Queen?\"\n\n\"She is much alone since Lancelet has gone, but often calls young Gwydion to her. She has been heard to say that he is like the son she never had. I think she has forgotten that he is the son of Queen Morgaine,\" said the girl, the careful speech so incongruous from the empty-eyed, rough-handed kitchen girl in her shapeless smock of sacking.\n\n\"Do you still put the medicine in her wine at bedtime?\"\n\n\"There is no need, my queen,\" said the alien voice which came through and behind the kitchen girl. \"The Queen's courses have not come upon her now for more than a year, and so I have ceased to give her the drug. But in any case the King comes very seldom to her bed.\"\n\nSo Morgause's last fear could now be quieted-that somehow, against all odds, Gwenhwyfar would bear a belated child to endanger Gwydion's position at court. Besides, the King's subjects would never accept a child forking, after the long peaceful years of Arthur's reign. Nor, she supposed, would Gwydion have any scruples about making an end to a small, unwanted rival. But it was better not to chance it; Arthur himself, after all, had escaped all Lot's plotting and her own, and had lived to be crowned.\n\nI have waited too long. Lot should have been King of these lands many years ago, and I Queen. Now there is none to stop me. Viviane is gone; Morgaine is old; Gwydion will make me Queen. I am the only woman living to whose word he will listen." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What of sir Mordred, Morag? Is he trusted by the Queen, by the King?\"\n\nBut the voice grew thick and heavy. \"I cannot stay-Mordred is often with the King-once I heard the King say to him-eh, my headaches, what am I doing hereby the fire? Cook will skin me alive...\" It was the idiot voice of Becca, thick and sullen, and Morgause knew that faraway in Camelot, Morag had sunk back into her bizarre dream in which she faced the faraway Queen of Lothian or the Queen of Fairy....\n\nMorgause seized the pan of blood, shaking the last remaining drops into the fire. \"Morag, Morag! Hear me, stay, I command!\"\n\n\"My queen,\" came the faraway ladylike voice, \"sir Mordred has always at his side one of the damsels of the Lady of the Lake, they say that she is somehow kin to Arthur-\"\n\nNiniane, daughter of Taliesin. Morgause thought, I did not know she had left Avalon. But why now should she stay?\n\n\"Sir Mordred has been named captain of horse while Lancelet is gone from court. There are rumors... Eh, the fire, my lady, will you set the whole of the castle afire?\" Becca was rubbing her eyes and whimpering on the hearth. Infuriated, Morgause gave her a savage push, and the girl fell screaming into the fire; but she was still bound and could not pull herself away from the flames.\n\n\"Damn her, she will wake the whole household!\" Morgause reached out to pull the girl from the flames, but her dress had caught fire, and her shrieks were dreadful, striking Morgause's ears like red-hot needles. She thought, with a trace of pity, Poor girl, there is nothing to be done for her now-she would be so burnt, we could not help her even if she should live! She pulled the screaming, struggling girl out of the fire, not regarding the burns on her own hands, and leaned close fora moment, laying her head on the girl's brow as if to soothe her; then, with a single stroke, she cut her throat from ear to ear. Blood poured into the fire, and the smoke rushed high up into the chimney." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgause felt herself shaking with the unexpected power, as if she were spreading out through the whole of the room, through the-whole of Lothian, through the whole of the world... she had never dared so much before, but now it had come to her, unsought. It seemed that she hovered bodiless overall the land. Again after years of peace there were armies on the road, and on the west coast hairy men in high-beaked dragon ships landed, plundering and burning cities, laying monasteries waste, carrying away women from the walled convents where they lived... like a crimson wind, sweeping down even to the borders of Camelot... she was not sure whether what she saw now was even at this moment moving in the land or was yet to come.\n\nShe cried out through the growing darkness, \"Let me see my sons on the quest of the Grail!\"\n\nDarkness filled the room, sudden, black and thick, with a curious smell of burning, while Morgause crouched, beaten to her knees by the rush of power. The smoke cleared a little, with a small stirring and coiling in the darkness, like the boiling of a pot. Then Morgause saw, in the widening light, the face of her youngest son, Gareth. He was dirty and travel-worn, his clothing ragged, but he was smiling with the old gaiety, and as the light grew, Morgause could see what he was looking at-the face of Lancelet.\n\nAh, Gwenhwyfar would not fawn on him now, not this sickly and wasted man with grey in his hair and the traces of madness and suffering in the lines round his eyes... he looks indeed like something hung up in the field to scare birds from the grain! The old hatred surged through her: it was intolerable, that her youngest and best son should think kindly of this man, should love him and follow him as he had when he was a little child prattling to carved wooden knights...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No, Gareth\"-she heard the voice of Lancelet, soft in the curdled silence in the room-\"you know why it is that I will not return to court. I will not speak of my own peace of soul-nor yet of the Queen's-but I am vowed to follow the Grail fora year and a day.\"\n\n\"But this is madness! What the devil is the Grail, against the needs of our king? I was sworn to him, and so were you, years before any of us heard of the Grail! When I think of our King Arthur at court with none of his faithful men save such as are lame or infirm or cowardly... times, I wonder if perhaps it was the work of the fiend, masquerading as a work of God and come to scatter Arthur's Companions out of his hands!\"\n\nLancelet said quietly, \"I know that it came from God, Gareth. Do not try to deprive me of that.\" And fora moment it seemed that again the light of madness flickered in his eyes.\n\nGareth said, and his voice was oddly subdued when he spoke, \"But when God does the same work as the Devil? I cannot think it is God's will that all Arthur has wrought in more than a quarter of a century should thus be cast aside! Do you know there are wild Northmen landing on the shores, and when the men of those lands cry out for Arthur's legions to come and help them, there are none to send to their aid? And so the Saxon armies are gathering again, while Arthur sits idle in Camelot and you seek for your soul-Lancelet, I beg you, if you will not return to court, at least seek for Galahad and make him return to Arthur's side! If the King is old and his will grows weak-and God forbid I should ever have to say so much-then perhaps your son may stand in his place, for all men know he is the King's adopted son and heir!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Galahad?\" Lancelet's voice was somber. \"Think you I have much influence with my son? You and the others swore to follow the Grail fora year and a day, yet I rode fora time with Galahad, and I know it is with him even as he said on that day, that if need be he would follow it lifelong.\"\n\n\"No!\" Gareth leaned from his horse and gripped Lancelet by the shoulders. \"That is what you must make him see, Lancelet, that at all costs he must return to Camelot! Ah, God, Gwydion would call me traitor to my own blood, and I love Gwydion well, but-how can I say this even to you, my cousin and my heart's brother? I trust not that man's power over our king! The Saxons who send to Arthur find themselves always speaking with him, they think of him as the sister's son of Arthur, and among them, know you not, the sister's son is heir-\"\n\nLancelet said, with a gentle smile, \"Recall then, Gareth, that it was even so with the Tribes before the Romans came-we are not Roman, you and I.\"\n\n\"But will you not fight for the rights of your own son?\" demanded Gareth.\n\n\"It is for Arthur to say who shall follow him on his throne,\" said Lancelet, \"if indeed there shall be any king after him at all. Sometimes, it seemed tome when I wandered among the visions of my madness-nay, I mean not to speak of that, but I think perhaps it was a little akin to the Sight-that a darkness would fall over this land when Arthur had gone.\"\n\n\"And then it should be as if Arthur had never been? What of your vow to Arthur?\" Gareth demanded, and Lancelet sighed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"If it is your will, Gareth, I will seek out Galahad.\"\n\n\"As quickly as you can,\" Gareth urged, \"and you must persuade him that his loyalty to the King is beyond all quests and Grails and Gods-\"\n\nLancelet said sadly, \"And if he will not come?\"\n\n\"If he does not,\" Gareth said slowly, \"then perhaps he is not the King we will need after Arthur. In that case, we are in God's hands, and may he help us all!\"\n\n\"Cousin, and more than brother,\" said Lancelet, embracing him again, \"we are all in God's hands whatever comes. But I vow to you, I will seek for Galahad and bring him with me to Camelot, I swear it....\"\n\nAnd then the stirring and the brightness were gone, Gareth's face faded and went into the dark, and fora moment it was only Lancelet's eyes, lustrous and so like Viviane's that fora moment Morgause felt that her sister and priestess was looking on her with frowning disapproval, as if to say, Morgause, what have you done now? Then that too was gone, and Morgause was alone with her fire, still belching smoke from which all the clouds of magical power had faded, and the limp, bloodless body of the dead woman lying on the hearth.\n\nLancelet! Lancelet, damn him, he could still play havoc with her plans! Morgause felt her hate like a pain that struck through, a tightness in her throat that travelled down her body to her very womb. Her head was aching, and she felt deathly sick with the aftermath of magic. She wanted nothing more than to sink down on the hearth and sleep for hours, but she must be strong, strong with the powers of sorcery she had called to herself; she was Queen of Lothian, Queen of Darkness! She opened the door and flung the body of the dog onto the midden heap there, disregarding the sickening stench." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She could not handle the body of the kitchen girl alone. She was about to call out for help, when she stopped, her hands to her face, still marked and sticky with blood; they must not see her like this. She went to the basin and ewer of water, poured it out and washed her face and hands and braided her hair afresh. There was nothing she could do about the bloodstains on her dress, but now that the fire was out, there was little light in the room. At last she called out for her chamberlain, and he came to the door, avid curiosity in his face.\n\n\"What is it, my queen? I heard shouts and screams-is anything amiss here?\" He held up the light, and Morgause knew very well how she looked to him-beautiful, dishevelled-as if she could see herself through his eyes in the aftermath of the Sight. I could stretch forth my hand now and have him over the girl's body, she thought, feeling the strange cramping pain and pleasure of desire, and inwardly she laughed, but she put it willfully aside; there would be time enough for that.\n\n\"Yes, there is grave trouble. Poor Becca-\" She indicated the limp corpse. \"She fell into the fire, and when I would have helped her burns, she grabbed the knife from my hand to cut her throat-she must have been maddened with the agony, poor thing. See, her blood is allover me.\"\n\nThe man cried out in consternation and went to examine the lifeless form of the girl. \"Well, well, the poor lass had not all her wits. You should not have let her inhere, madam.\"\n\nMorgause was disturbed at the hint of reproach she heard in the man's voice; had she actually thought of taking this one to her bed? \"I did not call you hitherto question my deeds. Take her out of here and have her decently buried, and send my women tome. I ride at dawn for Camelot.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "NIGHT WAS falling, and a thick drizzling rain was blurring the road. Morgause was cold and wet, and it only annoyed her when her captain of horse came up and asked, \"Are you sure, madam, that we are on the right road?\"\n\nShe had had her eye on this one for months; his name was Cormac, and he was tall and young, with a hawklike face and strong shoulders and thighs. But it seemed to Morgause now that all men were stupid, she would have done better to leave Cormac at home and lead this party herself. But there were things even the Queen of Lothian could not do.\n\n\"I do not recognize any of these roads. Yet I know from the distance we have ridden this day that we must be near to Camelot-unless you have somehow lost your way in the fog and we are riding northward again, Cormac?\"\n\nUnder ordinary conditions she would have welcomed another night on the road, in her comfortable pavilion, with all the comforts she could provide, and perhaps, when all her women slept, this Cormac to warm her bed.\n\nSince I found the way to sorcery, all men are at my feet. Yet now, it seems, I care for none... strange, I have sought out no man since word came tome of Lamorak's death. Am I growing old? She recoiled from the thought, and resolved she would have Cormac with her tonight... but first they must reach Camelot; she must act thereto protect Gwydion's interest and to advise him. She said impatiently, \"The road must be here, dolt. I have made this journey more times than I have fingers on my two hands! Do you think me a fool?\"\n\n\"God forbid, madam. And I too have ridden this road often, yet somehow, it seems, we are lost,\" Cormac said, and Morgause felt she would choke with her exasperation. Mentally she retraced the road she had travelled so often from Lothian, leaving the Roman road and taking the well-travelled way along the edge of the marshes to Dragon Island, then along the ridge till they should strike the road to Camelot, which Arthur had had broadened and resurfaced until it was almost as good as the old Roman road." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yet somehow you have missed the Camelot road, dolt, for there is that old fragment of Roman wall... somehow or other we are half an hour's ride past the turn to Camelot,\" Morgause scolded. There was no help for it now but to turn the whole caravan about, and already darkness was closing down. Morgause drew up her hood over her head and urged her plodding horse through the grey lowering twilight. At this time of year there should have been another hour of sunlight, but there was only the faintest glimmer of light in the west.\n\n\"Here it lies,\" said one of her women. \"See, that clump of four apple trees-I came here one summer to take a graft of apples for the Queen's garden.\"\n\nBut there was no road, only a little track winding upward on a barren hill, where there should be abroad road, and above it, even through mist, there should have been the lights of Camelot.\n\n\"Nonsense,\" she said brusquely, \"we have lost the way, somehow-are you trying to tell me that there is no more than one clump of four apple trees in Arthur's kingdom?\"\n\n\"Yet that is where the road ought to be, I swear it,\" grumbled Cormac, but he got the whole line of riders, horses, and pack animals into motion again and they plodded on, rain coming down and down as if it had been coming down since the beginning of time and had forgotten how to stop. Morgause was cold and weary, longing for hot supper at Gwenhwyfar's table and hot mulled wine and a soft bed, and when Cormac rode up to her again she demanded crossly, \"What now, dolt? Have you managed to lose us again, and miss a wide wagon road once more?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"My queen, I am sorry, but somehow-look, we are back again where we paused to rest the horses after we turned off the Roman road-that bit of rag I dropped, I'd been using it to clean the muck off one of the packs.\"\n\nHer wrath exploded. \"Was ever a queen plagued with so many damnable fools about her?\" she shouted. \"Must we look for the biggest city north of Londinium allover the Summer Country? Or must we ride back and forth on this road all night? If we cannot see Camelot's lights in the dark, we could at least hear it, a castle with more than a hundred knights and serving-men, horses and cattle, Arthur's men patrolling all the roads about-everything that moves on this road is clearly insight of his watchtowers!\"\n\nYet in the end there was nothing to do but to have lanterns lighted and turn southward again; Morgause herself rode at the head of the line, next to Cormac. The fog and rain seemed to damp out all sound, even echoes, until, through the foggy rain, they found themselves again at the ruined patch of Roman wall where they had turned about before. Cormac swore, but he sounded frightened too.\n\n\"Lady, I am sorry, I cannot understand it-\"\n\n\"Damnation seize you all!\" Morgause shrieked at him. \"Will you have us riding hither and thither on this road all night?\" Yet she too recognized the ruined wall. She drew along breath, exasperation and resignation in one. \"Perhaps by morning the rain will have ended, and if we must we can retrace our steps to the Roman wall. At least we will know where we have come!\"\n\n\"If indeed we have come anywhere and have not wandered somehow into the fairy country,\" murmured one of the women, surreptitiously crossing herself. Morgause saw the gesture, but she only said, \"No more of that! It's bad enough to be lost in the rain and fog without such idiot nonsense! Well, why are you all standing about? We can ride no more tonight, make haste to camp here, and in the morning we will know what to do.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "She had intended to call Cormac to her, if only that she might have no leisure for the fear that had begun to steal through her..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "had they indeed come out of the real world into the unknown? Yet she did not, lying alone and wakeful among her women, restless, mentally retracing all the steps of their journey. There was no sound in the night, not even the calling of frogs from the marshes. It was not possible to lose the whole city of Camelot; yet it had vanished into nowhere. Or was it she herself, with all her men and ladies and horses, who had vanished into the world of sorcery? And every time she came to that point in her thoughts she would wish that she had not allowed her anger with Cormac to set him to watching over the camp; if he were lying here beside her, she would not have that terrifying sense of the world somehow insanely out of joint... again and again she tried to sleep and found herself restlessly staring, wide awake, into the dark.\n\nSometime in the night, the rain stopped; when day broke, although damp mist was rising everywhere, the sky was free of cloud. Morgause woke from a fitful doze, a dream of Morgaine, greying and old, looking into a mirror like her own, and went out of her pavilion, hoping that she would lookup the hill and find that Camelot was, indeed, where it should have been, the broad road leading up to the towers of Arthur's castle, or else that they were on some unknown road clearly miles and miles from where they should have been. But they were camped by the ruined Roman wall, which she knew to be about a mile south from Camelot, and as horses and men prepared to ride, she looked up at the hill which should have been Camelot; but the hill was green and grass-grown and featureless.\n\nThey rode slowly along the road, muddy with the many tracks where they had ridden back and forth half the night. A flock of sheep grazed in afield, but when Morgause's man went to speak with the shepherd, the man hid behind a rock wall and would not be coaxed out." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And this is Arthur's peace?\" Morgause wondered aloud. \"I think, my lady,\" said Cormac with deference, \"there must be some enchantment here-whatever it is, this is not Camelot.\"\n\n\"Then in God's name, what is it?\" asked Morgause, but he only muttered, \"In God's name, what indeed?\" and had no further answer for her. She looked upward again, listening to the frightened whimpering of one of her women. Fora moment it was as if Viviane spoke again in her mind, saying what Morgause had nevermore than half believed, that Avalon had gone into the mists, and that if one set out there, either Druid or priestess, and not knowing the way, one would come only to the priests' Isle of Glastonbury....\n\nThey could retrace their steps to the Roman road... but Morgause felt a curious growing fear: would they find that the Roman road too was gone, was Lothian gone, was she alone on the face of the earth with these few men and women? Shivering, she recalled a few words of Scripture she had heard preached by Gwenhwyfar's house priest, about the end of the world... I say to you, two women will be grinding grain side by side, and one will betaken, and the other one will be left.... Had Camelot and all those within it been taken up into the Christian Heaven, had the world ended, with a few stragglers like herself left to wander on the face of the stricken world?\n\nBut they could not stand staring at the empty track. She said, \"We will retrace our steps toward the Roman road.\" If, she thought, it is still there, if there is anything thereat all. It seemed, as she looked on the mists rising like magical smoke from the marshes, that the world had vanished and even the rising sun was unfamiliar. Morgause was not a fanciful woman; she told herself, it was better to move and try to make their way back, than to stand in that otherworldly silence. Camelot was real, a place in the real world, it could not vanish entirely away." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Yet if I had had my way, if Lot and I had been successful in our plotting against Arthur, perhaps the whole land would be like this, silent and desolate and full of fears....\n\nWhy was it so quiet? It seemed in all the world there was no sound but their horses' hooves, and even these seemed to fall like stones dropped into water, muffled and dying away in ripples. They had nearly reached the Roman road-or where the Roman road should have been-when they heard hoofbeats on a hard road; a rider was coming, slow and deliberate, from Glastonbury. They could make out a dark figure through the fog, some kind of heavy-laden pack animal behind him. After a moment one of her men cried out, \"Why, look there, it is sir Lancelet of the Lake-God give you good morning, sir!\"\n\n\"Hallo! Who rides there?\" It was indeed Lancelet's well-known voice, and as he came closer, the homely sound of the hooves of horse and pack mule seemed to release something in the world around them. Sounds carried along way in the fog, and this was a simple sound, dogs barking somewhere, a whole pack of dogs, perhaps quarrelling over their food after a hungry night, but it broke the unworldly stillness with its simple, normal noise.\n\n\"It is the Queen of Lothian,\" called Cormac, and Lancelet rode toward them, halting his horse before her.\n\n\"Well, Aunt, I had not hoped to meet with you here-are my cousins with you, perhaps, Gawaine or Gareth?\"\n\n\"No,\" she said, \"I ride alone for Camelot.\" If, she thought irritably, such a place still exists upon the face of this earth! Her eyes rested intently on Lancelet's face as he said some polite words of greeting. He looked weary and travel-worn, his clothing ragged and not overly clean, a cloak of fustian worse than he would have given his groom. Ah, the beautiful Lancelet, Gwenhwyfar will not find you so handsome now, even I would not stretch out my hand to invite him into my bed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And then he smiled, and she realized, In spite of all, he is beautiful.\n\n\"Shall we ride together then, Aunt? For indeed I come on the most sorrowful of missions.\"\n\n\"I had heard that you were on the quest of the Grail. Have you found it, then, or failed to find it that you are so long-faced?\"\n\n\"It is not for such a man as Ito find that greatest of Mysteries. Yet I bring with me one who did indeed hold the Grail in his hands. And so I have come to say that the quest is ended, and the Grail gone forever out of this world.\"\n\nAnd then Morgause saw that on the pack mule, covered and shrouded, was the body of a man, She whispered, \"Who-?\"\n\n\"Galahad,\" said Lancelet quietly. \"It was my son who found the Grail, and now we know that no man may look on it and live. Would that it had been I-if only because I bear such bitter news to my king, that the one who should be King after him has gone before us into the world where he may forever follow his quest unspoilt-\"\n\nMorgause shuddered. Now indeed will it be as if Arthur had never been, the land will have no king save for the king in Heaven, ruled over by those priests who have Arthur in their hands... but angrily she dismissed those fancies. Galahad is gone. Arthur must choose Gwydion to rule after him.\n\nLancelet looked sorrowfully at the pack mule with Galahad's body, but he said only, \"Shall we ride on? I had not intended to rest a night by the road, but the mists were thick, and I feared to lose my way. I would have thought it Avalon itself!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We could not find Camelot in the mists, no more than Avalon-\" Cormac began, but Morgause interrupted him fretfully.\n\n\"Have done with that foolishness,\" she said. \"We mistook the road in the darkness, and rode back and forth half the night! We too are in haste to come to Camelot, nephew.\"\n\nOne or two of her men present knew Lancelet and had known Galahad, and now they crowded close to the body, with soft expressions of sympathy and kindly words. Lancelet listened to all they had to say, his face sorrowful, then, with a few soft words, brought it to an end.\n\n\"Later, my lads, later, there will be time enough to mourn. I am in no haste, God knows, to bear such news to Arthur, but delaying will make it no kinder. Let us ride on.\"\n\nThe mist was thinning and burning away fast as the sun gained height. They set off down the road where Morgause and her men had ridden back and forth for hours in search of Camelot, but before they had gone very far there was another sound that broke the strange silence of the haunted morning. It was a trumpet call, clear and silver in the still air, from the heights of Camelot. And before her at the clump of four trees, broad and unmistakable in the growing sunlight, lay the wagon road built by Arthur's men for his legions to ride.\n\nIT SEEMED appropriate that the first man Morgause should see on the heights of Camelot washer son Gareth. He strode forth to challenge them at the great gates of Camelot; then, recognizing Lancelet, hurried to him. Lancelet flung himself headlong from his horse and took Gareth into a strong embrace." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So, cousin, it is you-\"\n\n\"Aye, it is that-Cai is too old and lame to be patrolling the walls of Camelot in these days. Ah, it is a good day in which you return to Camelot, my cousin. But I see that you found not Galahad, Lance?\"\n\n\"Aye, but I did,\" said Lancelet sorrowfully, and Gareth's open face, still boyish despite his full beard, was struck with dismay as he looked at the outlines of the dead man under the pall.\n\n\"I must bear this news to Arthur at once. Take me to him, Gareth.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gareth bowed his head, his hand resting on Lancelet's shoulder. \"Ah, this is an evil day for Camelot. I said once before, it seemed tome that yonder Grail was the work of some devil, not of God at all!\"\n\nLancelet shook his head, and it seemed to Morgause that something bright shone through him, as if his body were transparent; and through his sad smile there was hidden joy. \"No, my dear cousin,\" he said, \"you must put that from your mind forever. Galahad has had what God gave to him, and, God help us, so have we all. But his day is finished, and he is free of all human fate. Ours is still to come, dear Gareth-God grant us that we meet it with as much courage as he.\"\n\n\"Amen to that,\" said Gareth, and to Morgause's horrified surprise he crossed himself. Then, with a start, he looked up at her.\n\n\"Mother, is it you? Forgive me-yours is the last company in which I would expect to find Lancelet.\" He bent over her hand with a dutiful kiss. \"Come, madam, let me summon a chamberlain and take you to the Queen. She will make you welcome among her ladies while Lancelet is with the King.\"\n\nMorgause let herself be led away, wondering now why she had come. In Lothian she ruled as queen in her own right, but herein Camelot she could only sit among Gwenhwyfar's ladies, and know no more of what was going on than what one of her sons might see fit to tell her.\n\nShe said to the chamberlain, \"Say to my son Gwydion-sir Mordred-that his mother has come, and bid him to wait upon meas soon as he can.\" But she wondered, sunk in despondency, if in this strange court he would even be troubled to pay her such respects as Gareth had done. And once again, she felt she had done wrong to come to Camelot." }, { "from": "human", "value": "For many years, Gwenhwyfar had felt that when the Companions of the Round Table were present, Arthur belonged not to her but to them." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She had resented their intrusion into her life, their presence at Camelot; often she had felt that if Arthur were not surrounded by the court, perhaps they might have had a life happier than the one they led as King and Queen of Camelot.\n\nAnd yet in this year of the Grail quest, she began to realize that she had been fortunate after all, for Camelot was like a village of ghosts with all the Companions departed, and Arthur the ghost who haunted Camelot, moving silently through the deserted castle.\n\nIt was not that she took no pleasure in Arthur's company when at last it was entirely hers. It was only that now she came to understand how much of his very being he had poured into his legions and the building of Camelot. He showed her ungrudging courtesy and kindness, and she had more of his company than ever she had had in all the long years of war or the years of peace that followed them. But it was as if some part of him was absent with his Companions, wherever they might be, and only a small fraction of the man himself was herewith her. She loved Arthur the man no less than Arthur the King, but she realized now how much less was the man without the business of kingship into which he had put so much of his life. And she was ashamed that she could notice it.\n\nThey never spoke of those who were absent. In that year of the Grail quest, they lived quietly and in peace from day today, speaking only of everyday things, of bread and meat, of fruits from the orchard or wine from the cellars, of anew cloak or the clasp of a shoe. And once, looking around the empty chamber of the Round Table, he said, \"Should we have it put away until they return, my love? Even in this great chamber, there is small room to move, and now when it is all empty-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No,\" she said quickly, \"no, my dear, leave it. This great room was built for the Round Table, and without it, it would be like an empty barn. Leave it. You and I and the household folk can dine in the smaller chamber.\" He smiled at her, and she knew he was glad she had said that.\n\n\"And when the knights return from the quest, we can once again make a great feast there,\" he said, but then fell silent, and she knew he was wondering how many would ever return.\n\nCai was with them, and old Lucan, and two or three of the Companions who were old or infirm or nursing old wounds. And Gwydion-Mordred as he was now called-was always with them, like a grown son; often Gwenhwyfar looked on him and thought, This is the son I might have borne to Lancelet, and heat went scalding and flooding through her whole body, leaving her broken into a hot sweat as she thought of that night when Arthur himself had thrust her into Lancelet's arms. And indeed this heat came often now and went, so that she never knew whether a room was hot or cold, or whether it was this strange sudden heat from within. Gwydion was gentle and deferential to her, calling her always lady or, sometimes, shyly, Aunt; the very shyness with which he used this term of family closeness warmed her and made him dear to her. He was like to Lancelet, too, but more silent and less light of heart; where Lancelet had ever been ready with a jest or play on words, Gwydion smiled and was always ready with some wit like a blow or the thrust of a needle. His wit was wicked, but she could not but laugh when he made some cruel jest." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "One night when their shrunken company was at dinner, Arthur said, \"Until Lancelet comes back to us, nephew, I would have you take his post and be my captain of horse.\"\n\nGwydion chuckled. \"Light enough will that duty be, my uncle and my lord-there are few horses in that stable now. The finest horses in your stables went with your knights and Companions, and who knows, indeed, whether or no some horse will be the one to find that Grail they seek!\"\n\n\"Oh, hush,\" Gwenhwyfar said. \"You must not make fun of their quest.\"\n\n\"Why not, Aunt? Again and again the priests tell us that we are the sheep of our Lord's pasture, and if a sheep may seek a spiritual presence, why, I have always thought a horse a nobler beast than any sheep. So who's to say whether or no the nobler beast may achieve the quest? Even some scarred old warhorse may come at last to seek spiritual repose, as they say the lion shall one day lie down beside the lamb and never think it dinner-time.\"\n\nArthur laughed uneasily. \"Will we need our horses again for war? Since Mount Badon, God be praised, we have had peace in the land-\"\n\n\"Save for Lucius,\" Gwydion said, \"and if I have learned one thing in my life, it is that peace is something which cannot last. Wild Northmen in dragon ships are landing on the coast, and when men cry out for Arthur's legions to defend them, the answer comes only that Arthur's Companions have ridden away to seek their souls'peace. And so they seek for help from the Saxon kings in the South. But no doubt when this quest is done, they will look once more to Arthur and to Camelot-and it seems tome that warhorses might be in short supply when that day comes. Lancelet is so busy with the Grail and his other deeds that he has had little time to see to the King's stables.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well, I have told you I wished you to fill that place,\" said Arthur, and it struck Gwenhwyfar that his tone sounded peevish, and old, without the strength it once held. \"As captain of horse you have authority to send for horses in my name. Lancelet used to deal with traders from somewhere to the south, beyond Brittany-\"\n\n\"As I shall do also, then,\" said Gwydion. \"There were no horses like the horses from Spain, but now, my uncle and my lord, the best horses come from further still. The Spaniards themselves buy horses from Africa, from a desert country there. Now these Saracens are beginning to overrun Spain itself-this I heard from yonder Saracen knight Palomides, who journeyed here and was guested fora time, then rode away to see what adventure there might be among the Saxons. He is not a Christian, and it seemed strange to him that all these knights should ride away after the Grail when there was war in the land.\"\n\n\"I spoke to Palomides,\" said Arthur. \"He had a sword from that southern country of Spanish steel-I would gladly have had one like to it, though I think it is no finer than Excahbur. No sword in our country will hold such an edge, like a razor. I am glad I never had to face such a sword in the lists. The Northmen have great axes and clubs, but their weapons are not so good even as the Saxon weapons.\"\n\n\"They are fiercer fighters, though,\" said Gwydion. \"They go into a madness of fighting, as sometimes the Tribesmen of Lothian used to do, casting away their shields in battle.... No, my king, we may have had peace fora goodly time, but even as the Saracens are beginning to overrun Spain, so the wild Northmen are on our coasts, and the wild Irishmen. In the end, no doubt, the Saracens will be good for Spain even as the Saxons have been good for this land-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Good for this land?\" Arthur looked at the younger man in astonishment. \"What do I hear you say, nephew?\"\n\n\"When the Romans left us, my lord Arthur, we were isolated at the end of the world, alone with the half-savage Tribes. The war with the Saxons forced us to reach beyond ourselves,\" he said. \"We had trade with Less Britain and with Spain and the countries to the south, we had to barter for weapons and horses, we built new cities-why, here's your own Camelot, sir, to show that. I do not even speak of the movement of the priests, who now have come among the Saxons and made them no longer wild Tribesmen with hair on their faces, worshipping their own barbarian Gods, but civilized men with cities and trade of their own, and their own civilized kings who are subject to you. For what else has this whole land been waiting? Now, even, they have monasteries and learned men writing books, and much more... without the wars against the Saxons, my lord Arthur, Uther's old kingdom would have been forgotten like that of Maximus.\"\n\nArthur said with a glimmer of amusement, \"Then, no doubt, you think these twenty years and more of peace have endangered Camelot, and we need more wars and fighting to bring us into the world again? It is easy to see you are not a warrior, young man. I have no such romantic view of war as that!\"\n\nGwydion smiled back. \"What makes you think I am not a warrior, my lord? I fought among your men against Lucius who would have been emperor, and I had ample time to makeup my own mind about wars and their worth. Without wars, you would be more forgotten than the least of those kings in Wales and in Eire-who now can call the roll of the kings of Tara?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And you think one day it maybe so with Camelot, my boy?\"\n\n\"Ah, my uncle and my king, would you have the wisdom of a Druid or the flattery of a courtier?\"\n\nArthur said, laughing, \"Let us have the crafty counsel of a Mordred.\"\n\n\"The courtier would say, my lord, that the reign of Arthur will live forever and his memory be forever green in the world. And the Druid would say that all men perish, and one day they will be, with all of their wisdom and their glories, like unto Atlantis, sunken beneath the waves. The Gods alone endure.\"\n\n\"And what would my nephew and my friend say, then?\"\n\n\"Your nephew\"-he put just enough emphasis on the word that Gwenhwyfar could hear that it should have been your son-\"would say, my uncle and my lord, that we are living for this day, and not for what history may say of us a thousand years hence. And so your nephew would advise that your stables should once again reflect the noble days when Arthur's horses and his fighting men were known and fearful to all. No man should be able to say, the King grows old and with all his knights on quest, cares nothing to keep his men and horses infighting trim.\"\n\nArthur gave him a friendly clap on the shoulder. \"So let it be, dear boy. I trust your judgment. Send to Spain, or to Africa if you will, for horses such as best suit the reputation of Arthur's legion, and see to their training.\"\n\n\"I shall have to find Saxons for that,\" said Gwydion, \"and the Saxons know little of our secrets of fighting a-horse-you have always said they should not. Is it your will that since the Saxons are our allies now, they should be trained in our fighting skills?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Arthur looked troubled." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I fear I must leave that, too, in your hands.\"\n\n\"I shall try to do my best for you,\" Gwydion said, \"and now, my lord, we have sat overlong in this talk, and wearied the ladies-forgive me, madam,\" he added, inclining his head to Gwenhwyfar with that winning smile. \"Shall we have music? The lady Niniane, I am certain, would be happy to bring her harp and sing to you, my lord and my king.\"\n\n\"I am always happy to hear my kinswoman's music,\" said Arthur gravely, \"if it is pleasing to my lady.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar nodded to Niniane, who fetched her harp and sat before them, singing, and Gwenhwyfar listened with pleasure to the music-Niniane played beautifully, and her voice was sweet, though not so pure or strong as Morgaine's. But as she watched Gwydion, his eyes on Taliesin's daughter, she thought, Why is it that we, a Christian court, must always have here one of those damsels of the Lady of the Lake? It worried her, although Gwydion seemed as good a Christian as anyone else at court, coming always to mass on Sunday, as did Niniane herself. For that matter she could not remember how Niniane had come to be one of her ladies, save that Gwydion had brought her to court and asked the Queen to extend her hospitality as a kinswoman of Arthur and as Taliesin's daughter. Gwenhwyfar had only the kindest memories of Taliesin, and had been pleased to welcome his daughter, but somehow it seemed now that, without ever putting herself forward, Niniane had assumed the place of the first among her ladies. Arthur always treated her with favor and often called to her to sing, and there were times when Gwenhwyfar, watching them, wondered if he looked on her as more than kinswoman." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But no, surely not. If Niniane had a paramour here at court it was more than likely to be Gwydion himself. She had seen him look at her... and yet her heart grew sore within her; this woman was fair, fair as she herself had been, and she was but an aging woman with her hair fading, the color gone from her cheeks, her body sagging.... And so when Niniane had put up her harp and withdrawn, she frowned as Arthur came to escort her from the hall.\n\n\"You look weary, my wife, what ails you?\"\n\n\"Gwydion said you were old-\"\n\n\"My own dear wife, I have sat on that throne of Britain for one-and-thirty years, with you at my side. Do you think there is anyone in this kingdom who can still callus young? Most of our subjects were not yet born when we came to the throne. Though indeed, my dear, I know not how it is that you look ever so young.\"\n\n\"Oh, my husband, I was not seeking to be praised,\" she said impatiently.\n\n\"You should be flattered, my Gwen, that Gwydion does not deal in empty flattery to an aging king, cozening me with lying words. He speaks honestly and I value him for it. I wish-\"\n\n\"I know what you wish,\" she interrupted him, her voice angry. \"You wish you could acknowledge him your son, so that he and not Galahad might have your throne after you-\"\n\nHe colored. \"Gwenhwyfar, must we always be so sharp with each other on this subject? The priests would not have him for King, and there's an end of it.\"\n\n\"I cannot but remember whose son he is-\"\n\n\"I cannot but remember that he is my son,\" said Arthur gently." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I trust not Morgaine, and you yourself have found that she-\"\n\nHis face grew hard and she knew that he would not hear heron this one subject. \"Gwenhwyfar, my son was fostered by the Queen of Lothian, and her sons have been the support and stay of my kingdom. What would I have done without Gareth and Gawaine? And now Gwydion stands fair to be like them, kindest and best of friends and Companions. It will not make me think the less of Gwydion that he stood beside me when all my other Companions forsook me for this quest.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar did not want to quarrel with him. She said now, sliding her hand into his, \"Believe me, my lord, I love you beyond all else on this earth.\"\n\n\"Why, I believe you, my love,\" he said. \"The Saxons have a saying-that man is blessed who has a good friend, a good wife, and a good sword. And all those have I had, my Gwenhwyfar.\"\n\n\"Oh, the Saxons,\" she said, laughing. \"All those years you fought against them, and now you quote their sayings of wisdom-\"\n\n\"Well, what is the good of war-as Gwydion says-if we cannot learn wisdom from our enemies? Long ago, someone-Gawaine, perhaps-said something about the Saxons and the learned men in their monasteries. He said it is like to a woman who is raped, and yet, after the invaders have left our coasts, bears a good son-is it better to have had only the evil, or, when the evil is done and there's no mending it, to take what good may come from that evil?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar frowned and said, \"Only a man, I think, could make such a jest as that!\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Help continue the narrative for the writer.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 15" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I trust not Morgaine, and you yourself have found that she-\"\n\nHis face grew hard and she knew that he would not hear heron this one subject. \"Gwenhwyfar, my son was fostered by the Queen of Lothian, and her sons have been the support and stay of my kingdom. What would I have done without Gareth and Gawaine? And now Gwydion stands fair to be like them, kindest and best of friends and Companions. It will not make me think the less of Gwydion that he stood beside me when all my other Companions forsook me for this quest.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar did not want to quarrel with him. She said now, sliding her hand into his, \"Believe me, my lord, I love you beyond all else on this earth.\"\n\n\"Why, I believe you, my love,\" he said. \"The Saxons have a saying-that man is blessed who has a good friend, a good wife, and a good sword. And all those have I had, my Gwenhwyfar.\"\n\n\"Oh, the Saxons,\" she said, laughing. \"All those years you fought against them, and now you quote their sayings of wisdom-\"\n\n\"Well, what is the good of war-as Gwydion says-if we cannot learn wisdom from our enemies? Long ago, someone-Gawaine, perhaps-said something about the Saxons and the learned men in their monasteries. He said it is like to a woman who is raped, and yet, after the invaders have left our coasts, bears a good son-is it better to have had only the evil, or, when the evil is done and there's no mending it, to take what good may come from that evil?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar frowned and said, \"Only a man, I think, could make such a jest as that!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No, I meant not to bring up old sorrows, dear heart,\" he protested, \"but the harm was done for me and Morgaine years ago.\" She realized that for once he spoke his sister's name without that cold tightening in his face. \"Would it be better that no good of any kind should come from the sin I did with Morgaine-for you will have it that it was sin-or should I be grateful that, since the sin was done and there's no going back to innocence, God has given me a good son in return for that evil? Morgaine and I parted not as friends, and I know not where she is or what has befallen her, nor do I suppose I will ever again look upon her face this side of the day of judgment. But her son is now the very stay of my throne. Should I mistrust him because of the mother who gave him birth?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar would have said, I do not trust him because he was reared in Avalon, but she had no wish to, so she held her peace. But when, at her door, Arthur held her hand and asked softly, \"Is it your will that I join you this night, lady?\" she avoided his eyes and said, \"No-no, I am tired.\" She tried not to seethe look of relief in his eyes. She wondered if it were Niniane or some other who shared his bed these days; she would not stoop to question his chamberlain. If it is not I, why should I care who it might be?\n\nThe year moved on into the darkness of winter, and on toward spring. One day Gwenhwyfar said fiercely, \"I wish this quest were done and the knights returned, Grail or no Grail!\"\n\n\"Hush, my dear, they are sworn,\" said Arthur, but later that day, indeed, a knight rode up the track to Camelot, and they saw that it was Gawaine." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Is it you, cousin?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arthur embraced him and kissed him on either cheek. \"I had no hope of seeing you till a year was done-did you not swear to follow the Grail fora year and a day?\"\n\n\"I did so,\" said Gawaine, \"but I am not false to my oath, Lord, and yonder priest need not look at meas if I were forsworn. For I last saw the Grail herein this very castle, Arthur, and I am just as like to see it here again as in this corner or that of the world. I rode up and down, hither and thither, and never did I hear word of it more, and one day it came tome that I might as well seek it where I had seen it already, at Camelot and in the presence of my king, even if I must look for it every Sunday on the altar at mass, and nowhere else.\"\n\nArthur smiled and embraced him, and Gwenhwyfar saw that his eyes were wet. \"Come in, cousin,\" he said simply. \"Welcome home.\"\n\nAnd some days later, Gareth too came home. \"I had a vision indeed, and I think it may have come from God,\" he said as they sat at supper in the hall. \"I dreamed I saw the Grail uncovered and fair before me, and then a voice spoke tome from the light around the Grail and said, \"Gareth, Companion of Arthur, this is all you will ever see of that Grail in this life. Why seek further for visions and glories, when your king has need of you in Camelot? You may serve God when you reach Heaven, but while you live hereon earth, return to Camelot and serve your king.\" And when I woke, I remembered that even Christ had said that they should render unto Caesar those things which belonged to Caesar, and so I came home this way, and I met with Lancelet as I rode, and I bade him do the same.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Do you think, then, that you truly found the Grail?\" Gwydion asked.\n\nGareth laughed. \"Perhaps the Grail itself is only a dream. And when I dreamed of the Grail, it bade me do my duty to my lord and king.\"\n\n\"I suppose we shall look to see Lancelet here among us soon, then?\"\n\n\"I hope he can find it in his heart to come,\" said Gawaine, \"for indeed we need him here. But Easter will be upon us soon, and then we can look to have them all come home.\"\n\nLater Gareth asked that Gwydion would bring his harp and sing for them. \"For,\" he said, \"I have not heard even such rough music as I would hear at the court of the Saxons, and you who sit here at home have surely had time to perfect your songs, Gwydion.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar would not have been surprised had he stood aside for Niniane, but instead he brought out a harp Gwenhwyfar recognized.\n\n\"Is that not Morgaine's harp?\"\n\n\"It is so. She left it at Camelot when she went from here, and if she wants it she can send for it, or come and take it from me. And until that day, well, it is surely mine, and I doubt she would begrudge me this when she has given me nothing else.\"\n\n\"Save only your life,\" said Arthur in atone of mild reproof, and Gwydion turned on him a look of such bitterness that Gwenhwyfar was sorely distressed. His savage tone could not be heard four feet away. \"Should I then be grateful for that, my lord and my king?\" Before Arthur could speak, he set his fingers to the strings and began to play. But the song he sang shocked Gwenhwyfar." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He sang the ballad of the Fisher King, who dwelt in a castle at the middle of a great wasteland; and as the king grew ancient and his powers waned, so did the land fade and put forth no crops, till some younger man should come and strike the stroke of mercy which would pour out the blood of the ancient king upon the land. Then the land would grow young again with the new king, and bloom with his youth.\n\n\"Say you so?\" demanded Arthur uneasily. \"That the land where an old king rules can only be a land which fades?\"\n\n\"Not so, my lord. What would we do without the wisdom of your many years? Yet in the ancient days of the Tribes it was even so, where the Goddess of the Land alone endures, and the king rules while he shall please her. And when the King Stag grew old, another would come from the herd and throw him down... but this is a Christian court, and you have no such heathen ways as that, my king. I think perhaps that ballad of the Fisher King is but a symbol of the grass which, even as it says in your Scriptures, is like to man's flesh, enduring but a season, and the king of the wasteland but a symbol of the world which yearly dies with the grass and is renewed with spring, as all religions tell... even Christ withered like the Fisher King when he died the death of the cross and returns again with Easter, ever new...\" and he touched the strings and sang softly:\n\n\"For lo, all the days of man areas a leaf that is fallen and as the grass that withereth.\n\nThou too shalt be forgotten, like the flower that falleth on the grass, like the wine that is poured out and soaks into the earth." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And yet even as the spring returns, so blooms the land and so blooms life which will come again...\"\n\nGwenhwyfar asked, \"Is that Scripture, Gwydion? Averse perhaps of a psalm?\"\n\nGwydion shook his head. \"It is an ancient hymn of the Druids, and there are those who say it is older than that, brought perhaps from those lands which now lie beneath the sea. But each religion has some such hymn as that. Perhaps indeed all religion is One...\"\n\nArthur asked him quietly, \"Are you a Christian, my lad?\"\n\nGwydion did not answer fora moment. At last he said, \"I was reared a Druid and I do not break the oaths I have sworn. My name is not Kevin, my king. But you do not know all the vows I have made.\" Quietly he rose from his place and went forth from the hall. Arthur, staring after him, did not speak even to reprove his lack of courtesy, but Gawaine was scowling.\n\n\"Will you let him take leave with so little of ceremony, lord?\"\n\n\"Oh, leave it, leave it,\" Arthur said. \"We are all kinsmen here, I ask not that he should treat me always as if I were on the throne! He knows well that he is my son, and so does every man in this room! Would you have him always the courtier?\"\n\nBut Gareth was frowning after him. He said softly, \"I wish with all my heart that Galahad would return to court. God grant him some such vision as mine, for you need him more here than you need me, Arthur, and if he comes not soon, I shall go forth myself to seek him.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "IT WAS only a few days before Pentecost when Lancelet finally came home.\n\nThey had seen the approaching procession-men, ladies, horses and pack animals-and Gareth, at the gates, had summoned all men to welcome them, but Gwenhwyfar, standing at Arthur's side, paid little heed to Queen Morgause, except to wonder why the Queen of Lothian had come. Lancelet knelt before Arthur with his sorrowful news, and Gwenhwyfar too felt the pain in his eyes... always, always it had been like this, that what smote his heart was like a lash laid to her own. Arthur bent and raised Lancelet to his feet and embraced him, and his own eyes were wet.\n\n\"I have lost a son, no less than you, dear friend. He will be sorely missed.\" And Gwenhwyfar could bear it no more, and stepped forward to give Lancelet her hand before them all and say, her voice trembling, \"I had longed for you to return to us, Lancelet, but I am sorry that you must come with such sad news.\"\n\nArthur said quietly to his men, \"Let him betaken to the chapel where he was made knight. There let him lie, and tomorrow he shall be buried as befits my son and heir.\" Ashe turned away, he staggered a little, and Gwydion was quick to put his hand beneath his arm and support him.\n\nGwenhwyfar did not often weep now, but she felt she must weep at Lancelet's face, so marred and stricken. What had befallen him in this year when he followed the Grail? Long sickness, long fasting, weariness, wounds? Never had she seen him so sorrowful, even when he came to speak with her of his marriage to Elaine. Watching Arthur leaning heavily on Gwydion's arm, she sighed, and Lancelet pressed her hand and said softly, \"I can even be glad now that Arthur came to know his own son and to value him. It will soften his grief.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwenhwyfar shook her head, not wanting to think of what this would mean for Gwydion and for Arthur. Morgaine's son! Morgaine's son, to follow after Arthur-no, there was no help for it now!\n\nGareth came and bowed before her and said, \"Madam, my mother is here-\" and Gwenhwyfar recalled that she was not free to stay among the men, that her place was with the ladies, that she could not speak a word of comfort to Arthur or even to Lancelet. She said coldly, \"I am happy to welcome you, Queen Morgause,\" and it came to her mind, Must I confess this then as a sin, that I lie to the queen? Would it somehow be more virtuous if I said to her, I welcome you as duty demands, Queen Morgause, but I am not glad to see you and I wish you had stayed in Lothian, or in hell for all I care! She saw that Niniane was at Arthur's side, that Arthur was between her and Gwydion, and she frowned.\n\n\"Lady Niniane,\" she said coolly, \"I think that the women will withdraw now. Find a guestroom for the Queen of Lothian, and see that everything is made ready for her.\"\n\nGwydion looked angry, but there was nothing to be said, and Gwenhwyfar reflected, as she and her ladies left the courtyard, that there were advantages to being a queen.\n\nALL THAT DAY, the Companions and knights of the Round Table were riding back toward Arthur's court, and Gwenhwyfar was busy with the preparations for the feast on the morrow, which would be the funeral. On the day of Pentecost, such of Arthur's men as had returned from this quest would be reunited. She recognized many faces, but some, she knew, would never return: Perceval, and Bors, and Lamorak-she turned a gentler face on Morgause, who, she knew, sincerely mourned for Lamorak. She had felt that the older woman had made a fool of herself with her young lover, but grief was grief, and when at the funeral mass for Galahad the priest spoke of all those others who had fallen on this quest, she saw Morgause hiding tears behind her veil, and her face was red and blotched after the mass." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The night before, Lancelet had watched by his son's body in the chapel, and she had had no chance for private words with him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Now, after the funeral mass, she bade him sit beside her and Arthur at dinner, and when she filled his cup, she hoped that he would drink himself drunk and be past mourning. She grieved over his lined face, so drawn with pain and privation, and over the curls around his face, so white now. And she who loved him best, she could not even embrace him and weep with him in public. For many years she had felt it like a deep pain that she would never have any right to turn to him before other men, but must sit at his side and be only a kinswoman and his queen. And now it seemed to her more dreadful than ever, but he did not turn to her, he did not even meet her eyes.\n\nStanding, Arthur drank to the knights who would never return from the quest. \"Here before you all, I swear that none of their wives or children shall ever know want while I live and Camelot stands with one stone upon another,\" he said. \"I share your sorrow. The heir to my throne died in the quest of the Grail.\" He turned, and held out his hand to Gwydion, who came slowly to his side. He looked younger than he was, in a plain white tunic, his dark hair caught in a golden band.\n\nArthur said, \"A king cannot, like other men, indulge in long mourning, my Companions. Here I ask you to mourn with me for my lost nephew and adopted son, who now will never reign at my side. But even though our mourning is still green, I ask you to accept Gwydion-sir Mordred-the son of my only sister, Morgaine of Avalon, as my heir. Gwydion is young, but he has become one of my wise councillors.\" He raised his cup and drank. \"I drink to you, my son, and to your reign when mine is done.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwydion came and knelt before Arthur. \"May your reign belong, my father.\" It seemed to Gwenhwyfar that he was blinking back tears, and she liked him better for it. The Companions drank, and then, led by Gareth, broke out in cheering.\n\nBut Gwenhwyfar sat silent. She had known this must come, but she had not expected it to happen at Galahad's very funeral feast! Now she turned to Lancelet and whispered, \"I wish he had waited! I wish he had consulted with his councillors!\"\n\n\"Knew you not he intended this?\" Lancelet asked. He reached out and took her hand, pressing it softly and holding onto it, stroking her fingers beneath the rings she wore. Her fingers seemed now so thin and bony, not young and soft as they had been; she felt abashed and would have drawn her hand away, but he would not let her. He said, still stroking her hand, \"Arthur should not have done that to you without warning-\"\n\n\"God knows, I have no right to complain, who could not give him a son, so he must make do with Morgaine's-\"\n\n\"Still, he should have warned you,\" Lancelet said. It was the first time, Gwenhwyfar thought distantly, that he had ever, even fora moment, seemed to criticize Arthur. He raised her hand gently to his lips, then let it go as Arthur approached them with Gwydion. Stewards were bringing smoking platters of meat, trays of fresh fruits and hot breads, setting sweetmeats every few places along the table. Gwenhwyfar let her steward help her to some meat and fruits, but she barely touched her plate. She saw, with a smile, that it had been arranged that she shared her plate with Lancelet, as so often she had done at other Pentecost feasts; and that Niniane, on Arthur's other side, was eating from his dish. Once he called her daughter, which relieved Gwenhwyfar's mind somewhat-perhaps he accepted her already as his son's potential wife. To her surprise Lancelet seemed to follow her thought." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Will the next festival at court be a wedding? I would have thought the kinship too close-\"\n\n\"Would that matter in Avalon?\" Gwenhwyfar asked, her voice harsher than she intended; the old pain was still there.\n\nLancelet shrugged. \"I know not-in Avalon as a boy I heard of a country far to the south of here, where the royal house married always their own sister and brother that the royal blood might not be diluted by that of the common people, and that dynasty lasted fora thousand years.\"\n\n\"Heathen men,\" said Gwenhwyfar. \"They knew nothing of God, and knew not that they sinned....\"\n\nYet Gwydion seemed not to have suffered from the sin of his mother and his father; why should he, Taliesin's grandson-no, his great-grandson-hesitate towed with Taliesin's daughter?\n\nGod will punish Camelot for that sin, she thought suddenly. For Arthur's sin and for mine... and Lancelet's...\n\nBeyond her she heard Arthur say to Gwydion, \"You said once in my hearing that Galahad looked not like one who would live to his crowning.\"\n\n\"And you remember too, my father and my lord,\" said Gwydion quietly, \"that I swore to you I would have no part in his death, but that he would die honorably for the cross he worshipped, and it was so.\"\n\n\"What more do you foresee, my son?\"\n\n\"Ask me not, lord Arthur. The Gods are kind when they say that no man may know his own end. Even if I knew-and I say not that I know-I would tell you nothing.\"\n\nPerhaps, thought Gwenhwyfar, with a sudden shiver, God has punished us enough for our sin when he sent us this Mordred... and then, looking at the young man, she was dismayed. How can I think so of the one who has been to Arthur as a son indeed? He is not to blame for his fathering!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She said to Lancelet, \"Arthur should not have done this before Galahad was cold in his grave!\"\n\n\"Not so, my lady. Arthur knows well the duties of a king. Do you think it would matter to Galahad, where he has gone, who sits on the throne he never wished for? I would have done better to make my son a priest, Gwenhwyfar.\"\n\nShe looked at Lancelet, brooding, a thousand leagues away from her, gone into himself where she could never follow, and she said, awkwardly, reaching for him in the best way she could, \"And did you, then, fail to find the Grail?\"\n\nShe saw him come slowly back through the long distance. \"I came-nearer than any sinful man can come and live. But I was spared, to tell the men at Arthur's court that the Grail has gone forever beyond this world.\" Again he fell silent, then said across that vast distance, \"I would have followed it beyond the world, but I was given no choice.\"\n\nShe wondered, Did you not, then, wish to return to court for my sake? And it seemed clear to her that Lancelet was more like Arthur than she had ever known, and that she had never been anything more, to either of them, than a diversion between war and quest; that the real life of a man was lived in a world where love meant nothing. All his life he had devoted to wars at Arthur's side, and now when there was no war he had given himself over to a great Mystery. The Grail had come between them, as Arthur had come between them, and Lancelet's own honor.\n\nNow even Lancelet had turned to God, and thought, no doubt, only that she had led him into grave sin. The pain was unendurable. In all of life, she had had nothing more than this, and she could not keep herself from reaching out to him, clasping his hand. \"I have longed for you,\" she whispered, and was shocked at the longing in her voice; he will think me no better than Morgause, flinging myself at his head.... He held her hand and said softly, \"And I have missed you, Gwen.\" And then, as if he could read her whole hungry heart, he said in a low voice, \"Grail or no Grail, beloved, nothing could have brought me back to this court but the thought of you. I would have remained there, spending the rest of my life in prayers that I might see again that Mystery that was hidden from my eyes. But I am no more than a man, my beloved....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And she knew what it was that he was saying, and pressed his hand. \"Shall I send away my women, then?\"\n\nHe hesitated a moment, and Gwenhwyfar felt the old dread... how dared she be so forward, so lacking in a woman's modesty?... Always, this moment was like death. Then he tightened his grip on her fingers and said, \"Yes, my love.\"\n\nBUT AS SHE awaited him, alone in the darkness, she wondered in bitterness if his'Yes\" had been like Arthur's, an offer made from time to timeout of pity, or a wish to save her pride. Now that there was no longer the slightest hope that she would bear to Arthur a belated child, he could have stopped coming to her, but he was too kind to give her women cause to smile behind her back. Still, it was like a knife in her heart that Arthur always seemed relieved when she sent him away; there were even times when she invited him in and they talked together or she lay fora time in his arms, content to beheld and comforted, but demanding no more of him. Now she wondered if Arthur felt that his embraces would be unwelcome to her, so that he seldom offered them, or whether he truly did not desire her. She wondered if he ever had desired her, or had always come to her because she was the wife he had taken and it was his duty to give her children.\n\nAll men praised my beauty and desired me, save for the husband I was given. And now, she thought, perhaps even Lancelet comes tome because he is too kind to abandon me or turn me away. She grew feverish, and it seemed that even in her light bed gown she was overheated, her whole body breaking out in drops of sweat. She rose and sponged herself with the cold water in ajar on her dressing table, touching her sagging breasts with distaste. Ah, I am old, surely it will disgust him, that this ugly old flesh is still as eager for him as if I were young and beautiful...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "And then she heard his step behind her; and he caught her into his arms, and she forgot her fears." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But after he had gone she lay wakeful.\n\nI should not risk this. It was different, in the old days; now we area Christian court and the eyes of the bishop are always on me.\n\nBut I have nothing else... and it occurred to her suddenly, nor has Lancelet.... His son was dead, and his wife, and the old closeness with Arthur was gone beyond recall.\n\nWould that I were like Morgaine, who does not need a man's love to feel herself alive and real.... And yet Gwenhwyfar knew that even if she did not need this from Lancelet, it was he who needed her; and without her, he would be utterly alone. He had come to court because he needed her no less than she needed him.\n\nAnd so, even if it was sin, it seemed the greater sin to leave Lancelet comfortless.\n\nEven if we are both damned for it, she thought, never shall I turn aside from him. God is a God of love, she thought; how then could he condemn the one thing in her life that was born of love? And if he did, she thought, terrified at her blasphemy, he was not the God she had always worshipped, and she did not care what he thought!\n\nThat summer there was war again, the Northmen raiding the western 1 coasts, and Arthur's legion rode forth to battle, this time riding at the head of the Saxon kings from the southern country, Ceardig and his men. Queen Morgause remained in Camelot; it was not safe to take the road alone to Lothian, and none could be spared to escort her.\n\nThey returned late in the summer. Morgause was in the women's hall with Gwenhwyfar and her ladies when they heard the trumpets from the heights." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It is Arthur returning!\" Gwenhwyfar rose from her seat. Immediately all of the women dropped their spindles and clustered around her.\n\n\"How do you know?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar laughed. \"A messenger brought me the news last night,\" she said. \"Do you think I am dealing in sorcery at my age?\" She looked around her at the excited girls-to Morgause it seemed that all of Gwen-hwyfar's ladies were but little girls, fourteen and fifteen, who made every excuse to leave off spinning; and now the Queen said indulgently, \"Shall we go and watch them from the heights?\"\n\nChattering, giggling, gathering in groups of two and three, they ran off, leaving the dropped spindles where they had fallen. Good-naturedly, Gwenhwyfar called one of the serving-women to put the room to rights and, at Morgause's side, followed at a more dignified pace to the brow of the hill, where they could seethe wide road leading up to Camelot.\n\n\"Look, there is the King-\"\n\n\"And sir Mordred, riding at his side-\"\n\n\"And there is the lord Lancelet-oh, look, he has a bandage round his head, and his arm is in a sling!\"\n\n\"Let me see,\" said Gwenhwyfar and pushed them aside, while the girls stared. Morgause could make out Gwydion, riding at Arthur's side; he appeared unwounded, and she drew a sigh of relief. She could see Cormac back among the men, too-he had ridden to war with all the men, and he too seemed unhurt. Gareth was easy to find among them-he was the tallest man in Arthur's whole company, and his fair hair blazed like a halo. Gawaine, too, at Arthur's back as always, was upright in his saddle, but as they came nearer she could see a great bruise on his face, darkening his eyes, and his mouth swollen as if he had had a tooth or two knocked out." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Look, sir Mordred is handsome-\" one of the little girls said. \"I have heard the Queen say that he looks exactly as Lancelet did when Lancelet was young,\" and then she giggled and dug her neighbor in the ribs. They clung together, whispering, and Morgause watched, sighing. They seemed so young, all of them, so pretty with their hair silky-soft and bound in plaits and curls, brown or red or golden, their cheeks soft as petals and smooth as a baby's, their waists so slim, their hands so smooth and white-she felt, suddenly, wild with jealousy; once she had been more beautiful than any of them. Now they were nudging one another, whispering about this knight and that.\n\n\"Look how the Saxon knights are all bearded-why do they want to look shaggy like dogs?\"\n\n\"My mother says,\" one of the maidens said impudently-she was the daughter of one of the Saxon noblemen, her name was something barbarian which Morgause could hardly pronounce, Alfreth or something of that sort-\"that to kiss a man without a beard is like kissing another maiden, or your baby brother!\"\n\n\"Yet sir Mordred shaves his face clean, and there is nothing maidenly about him,\" said one of the girls, and turned laughing to Niniane, standing quietly among the women, \"is there, lady Niniane?\"\n\nNiniane said, with a soft laugh, \"All these bearded men seem old tome-when I was a little girl, only my father and the oldest Druids ever went bearded.\"\n\n\"Even Bishop Patricius now wears his beard,\" said one of the girls. \"I heard him say that in heathen times men deformed their faces by cutting their beards and men should wear their beards as God made them. Maybe the Saxons think it so.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It is but anew fashion,\" said Morgause. \"They come and they go-when I was young, Christian and pagan alike shaved their faces clean, and now the fashion has changed-I think not it has anything to do with holiness either way. I doubt not, one day Gwydion will wear a beard-will you think less of him, Niniane?\"\n\nThe younger woman laughed. \"No, cousin. He is the same, bearded or shaven. Ah, look, there rides King Ceardig, and others-are they all to be guested here at Camelot? Madam, shall I go and tell the stewards?\"\n\n\"Please do, my dear,\" Gwenhwyfar said, and Niniane moved toward the hall. The girls were shoving one another to get a better view, and Gwenhwyfar said, \"Come, come-all of you, back to your spinning. It is unseemly to stare at young men this way. Have none of you anything better to do than talk so immodestly about the men? All of you now, be off with you, you will see them this night in the great hall. There is to be feasting, which means work for all of you.\"\n\nThey looked sulky, but they went obediently back to the hall, and Gwenhwyfar sighed and shook her head as she walked back at Morgause's side. \"In Heaven's name, was there ever such a lot of unruly girls? And somehow I must keep them all chaste and under my guidance-it seems they spend all their time gossiping and giggling instead of minding their spinning. I am ashamed that my court should be so filled with empty-headed and immodest little hussies like this!\"\n\n\"Oh, come, my dear,\" said Morgause lazily, \"surely you too were fifteen once? Surely you were not such a model maiden as all that-did you never steal a look at a handsome young man and think and gossip about how it would be to kiss him, bearded or shaven?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I do not know what you did when you were fifteen,\" Gwenhwyfar flared at her, \"but I was behind convent walls! It seems tome that would be a good place for these unmannerly maids!\"\n\nMorgause laughed. \"When I was fourteen, I had an eye for everything that wore breeches. I recall that I used to sit in Gorlois's lap-he that was married to Igraine before Uther's eyes fell on her-and Igraine knew it well, for when she married Uther, her first act was to pack me off to be married to Lot, which was about as far from Uther's court as she could send me without crossing the ocean! Come, Gwenhwyfar, even behind your convent walls can you swear you never peeped out at any handsome young man who came to break your father's horses, or the crimson cloak of any young knight?\"\n\nGwenhwyfar looked down at her sandals. \"It seems so very long ago-\" and then, recollecting herself, spoke briskly. \"The hunters brought in a deer last night-I shall give orders that it be cutup and roasted for dinner, and perhaps we should have a pig killed too, if all these Saxons are to be guested here. And fresh straw must be spread in the rooms where they will sleep, there will never be enough beds for all these people!\"\n\n\"Send the maidens to see to that too,\" said Morgause. \"They must learn to manage guests in a great hall-for what other reason are they in your care, Gwenhwyfar? And it is the duty of a queen to welcome her lord when he returns from war.\"\n\n\"You are right.\" Gwenhwyfar sent her page to give the orders, and they walked toward the great gates of Camelot together. Morgause thought, Why, it is exactly as if we had been friends all our lives. And she thought, there were so few of them who had been young together." }, { "from": "human", "value": "She had much the same feeling when she sat that night in the great hall that was hung with decorations and brilliant with the fine clothes of the ladies and the knights." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Almost it was like the great days of Camelot. Yet so many of the old Companions were gone in war, or on the Grail quest, and would never return. Morgause did not remember often that she was old, and it frightened her. Half the seats of the Round Table, it seemed, were filled now with hairy Saxons with their great beards and their rough cloaks, or with young men who seemed hardly old enough to hold weapons. Even her baby, Gareth, was one of the older knights of the Round Table, and the newer ones deferred to him amazingly, calling him sir, and asking his advice, or hesitating to argue with him if they differed. As for Gwydion-most of them called him sir Mordred-he seemed quite a leader among the younger men, new knights and the Saxons whom Arthur had chosen as his Companions.\n\nGwenhwyfar's ladies and stewards had done their task well; there was roast and boiled meat in plenty, and great meat pies with gravy, platters of early apples and grapes, hot bread and lentil porridge. At the high table, when the feasting was done and the Saxons were drinking and at their favorite game of asking riddles, Arthur called Niniane to sing for them. Gwenhwyfar had Lancelet at her side, his head bandaged and his arm in a sling-he had been wounded by a Northman's battleaxe. He could not use his arm, and Gwenhwyfar was cutting his meat for him. No one, Morgause thought, paid it the slightest attention.\n\nGareth and Gawaine were seated further down the table, and Gwydion close to them, sharing a dish with Niniane. Morgause went to greet them. Gwydion had bathed and combed his hair into curls, but one of his legs was bandaged, propped on a stool." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Are you hurt, my son?\"\n\n\"It does well enough,\" he said. \"I am too big now, Mother, to run and climb into your lap when I stub my toe!\"\n\n\"It looks worse than that,\" she said, looking at the bandage and the crusted blood at the edges, \"but I will leave you alone, if you wish. Is that tunic new?\"\n\nIt was made in a fashion she had seen many of the Saxons wearing, with sleeves so long that they came down past the wrist and half covered the knuckles of the hand. Gwydion's was of blue-dyed cloth, embroidered with crimson stitchery.\n\n\"It was a gift from Ceardig. He told me it was a good fashion fora Christian court, for it conceals the serpents of Avalon.\" His mouth twisted. \"Perhaps I should give my lord Arthur such a tunic fora New Year's gift this winter!\"\n\n\"I doubt if anyone would know the difference,\" said Gawaine. \"No one, now, thinks of Avalon, and Arthur's wrists are so faded no one sees or would criticize if they did.\"\n\nMorgause looked at Gawaine's bruised face and eyes. He had in truth lost more than one tooth, and his hands, too, looked cut and bruised.\n\n\"And you too are wounded, my son?\"\n\n\"Not from the enemy,\" Gawaine growled. \"This I got from our Saxon friends-one of the men in Ceardig's army. Damn them all, those unmannerly bastards! I think I liked it better when they were all our foes!\"\n\n\"You fought him, then?\"\n\n\"Aye, and will do so again, should he dare to open his clacking jaw about my king,\" Gawaine said angrily. \"Nor did I need Gareth to come to my rescue, as if I were not big enough to fight my own battles without my little brother coming to my aid-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"He was twice your size,\" said Gareth, putting down his spoon, \"and he had you on the ground, and I thought he would break your back or crack your ribs-I am not sure yet that he did not." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Was Ito sit aside while that foul-tongued fellow beat my brother and slandered my kinsman? He will think twice and then thrice before he opens his evil mouth again with such words.\"\n\n\"Still,\" said Gwydion quietly, \"you cannot silence the whole Saxon army, Gareth, especially when what they say is true. There's a name, and not a pretty one, fora man, even when that man's a king, who sits back and says nothing while another man does his husband's duty in his wife's bed-\"\n\n\"You dare!\" Gareth half rose, turning on Gwydion and gripping the Saxon tunic at the neck. Gwydion put up his hands to loosen Gareth's hold.\n\n\"Easy, foster-brother!\" He looked like a child in the giant Gareth's grip. \"Will you treat meas you treated yonder Saxon because here among kinsmen I speak truth, or am I too to keep to the pleasant lie of the court, when all men seethe Queen with her paramour and say nothing?\"\n\nGareth slowly relaxed his grip and eased Gwydion back to his seat. \"If Arthur has nothing to complain of in the lady's conduct, who am Ito speak?\"\n\nGawaine muttered, \"Damn the woman! Damn her anyhow! Would that Arthur had put her away while there was still time! I have no great love for so Christian a court as this has become, and filled with Saxons. When I was first knight at Arthur's side, there was not a Saxon in all this land with more of religion than a pig in his sty!\"\n\nGwydion made a deprecating sound, and Gawaine turned on him. \"I know them better than you. I was fighting Saxons while you were wetting your swaddling bands! Are we now to run Arthur's court by what these hairy grunters think of us?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You do not know the Saxons half so well as I do,\" Gwydion said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You do not get to know a man at the business end of a battleaxe. I have lived in their courts and drunk with them and courted their women, and I venture to say that I know them well, which you do not. And this much is true: they call Arthur and his court corrupt, too pagan.\"\n\n\"That comes well from them,\" Gawaine snorted.\n\n\"Still,\" said Gwydion, \"it is no laughing matter, that these men, unrebuked, can call Arthur corrupt-\"\n\n\"Unrebuked, say you?\" Gareth grumbled. \"I think Gawaine and I did some rebuking!\"\n\n\"Will you fight your way through the Saxon court? Better to amend the cause of slander,\" said Gwydion. \"Cannot Arthur rule his wife better than this?\"\n\nGawaine said, \"It would take a braver man than Ito speak ill of Gwenhwyfar to Arthur's face.\"\n\n\"Yet it must be done,\" said Gwydion. \"If Arthur is to be High King overall these men, he cannot be a laughingstock. When they call him cuckold, will they take oath to follow him in peace and in war? Somehow he must heal the corruption in this court-send the woman to a nunnery perhaps, or banish Lancelet-\"\n\nGawaine looked anxiously around. \"For God's sake, lower your voice,\" he said. \"Such things should not even be whispered in this place!\"\n\n\"It is better that we should whisper them than that they should be whispered all the length and breadth of the land,\" Gwydion said. \"In God's name, there they sit close by him, and he smiles on them both! Is Camelot to become a joke, and the Round Table a bawdy house?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Now shut your filthy mouth or I will shut it for you,\" Gawaine snarled, gripping Gwydion's shoulder in his iron fingers.\n\n\"If I were speaking lies, Gawaine, you might well try to shut my mouth, but can you stop the truth with your fists? Or do you still maintain that Gwenhwyfar and Lancelet are innocent? You, Gareth, who have all your life been his pet and minion, I might well believe that you will think no evil of your friend-\"\n\nGareth said, gritting his teeth, \"It is true I wish the woman at the bottom of the sea, or behind the walls of the safest convent in Cornwall. But while Arthur does not speak, I will hold my tongue. And they are old enough to be discreet. All men have known for years that he has been her champion lifelong-\"\n\n\"If I only had some proof, Arthur might listen tome,\" Gwydion said.\n\n\"Damn you, I am certain Arthur knows what there is to know. But it is for him to allow it or to interfere... and he will hear no word against either of them.\" Gawaine swallowed and went on. \"Lancelet is my kinsman, and my friend too. But-damn you-do you think I have not tried?\"\n\n\"And what said Arthur?\"\n\n\"He said that the Queen was above my criticism, and whatever she chose to do was well done. He was courteous, but I could tell that he knew what I was saying and was warning me not to interfere.\"\n\n\"But if it were drawn to his attention in away he could not choose to ignore,\" Gwydion said quietly, considering, then raised his hand and beckoned. Niniane, seated at Arthur's feet, her hands still touching the strings of her harp, softly asked leave of Arthur, then rose and came to him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"My lady,\" Gwydion said, \"is it not true that she\"-he inclined his head very slightly in Gwenhwyfar's direction-\"often sends her women away for the night?\"\n\nNiniane said quietly, \"She has not done so while the legion was away from Camelot.\"\n\n\"So at least we know the lady is loyal,\" said Gwydion cynically, \"and does not distribute her favors wholesale.\"\n\n\"No one has ever accused her of common lechery,\" said Gareth angrily, \"and at their ages-they are both older than you, Gawaine-whatever they are about cannot be much harm to anyone, I should think.\"\n\n\"No, I am serious,\" said Gwydion with equal heat. \"If Arthur is to remain High King-\"\n\n\"Mean you not,\" said Gareth angrily, \"if you are to be High King after him-\"\n\n\"What would you, brother? That when Arthur is gone I should turnover all this land to the Saxons?\" Their heads were close together, and they were talking in furious whispers. Morgause knew they had forgotten not only her presence but her very existence.\n\n\"Why, I thought you loved the Saxons well,\" said Gareth, in angry scorn. \"Would you not be content to have them rule, then?\"\n\n\"No, hear me,\" said Gwydion in a rage, but Gareth grabbed at him again and said, \"The whole of the court will hear you if you do not moderate your voices-look, Arthur is staring at you, he watched when Niniane came over here! Maybe Arthur is not the only one who should look to his lady, or-\"\n\n\"Be silent!\" Gwydion said, wrestling himself free of Gareth's hands.\n\nArthur called out to him, \"What, do my loyal cousins of Lothian quarrel among themselves? I will have peace in my hall, kinsmen! Come, Gawaine, here's King Ceardig asking if you will have a game of riddles with him!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gawaine rose, but Gwydion said softly, \"Here's a riddle for you-when a man will not mind his property, what's to be done by those who have an interest in it?\"\n\nGawaine stalked away, pretending he did not hear, and Niniane bent over Gwydion and said, \"Leave it for now. There are too many ears and eyes. You have planted the seed. Now speak to some of the other knights. Do you think you are the only one who saw-that?\" and she moved her elbow just a little. Morgause, following the slight gesture, saw that Gwen-hwyfar was bending with Lancelet over a game board on their laps; their heads were close together.\n\n\"I think there are many who think it touches the honor of Arthur's Camelot,\" Niniane murmured. \"You need only find some who are less-biased-than your brothers of Lothian, Gwydion.\"\n\nBut Gwydion was looking angrily at Gareth. \"Lancelet,\" he muttered, \"always Lancelet!\" And Morgause, looking from Gwydion to her youngest son, thought of a small child prattling to a red-and-blue carved knight which he called Lancelet.\n\nThen she thought of a younger Gwydion, following Gareth about like a puppy. Gareth is his Lancelet, she thought. What will come of this? But her disquiet was swallowed up in malice. Surely it is time, she thought, that Lancelet should have to answer for all he has wrought.\n\nNINIANE STOOD at the crest of Camelot, looking down at the mists that surrounded the hill. She heard a step behind her, and said, without turning, \"Gwydion?\"\n\n\"Who else?\" His arms came around her and held her tight, and she turned her face to kiss him. He demanded, without letting her go, \"Does Arthur kiss you like that?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She freed herself from his embrace to confront him. \"Are you jealous of the King? Was it not you who told me to gain his confidence?\"\n\n\"Already Arthur has had more than enough of what is mine-\"\n\n\"Arthur is a Christian man-I will say no more than that,\" Niniane said, \"and you are my dear love. But I am Niniane of Avalon, and I account to no man on this earth for what I do with what is mine-yes, mine and not yours. I am not Roman, to let some man tell me what I may do with what the Goddess gave me. And if you like that not, Gwydion, then I shall return to Avalon.\"\n\nGwydion smiled, the cynical smile she liked least about him.\n\n\"If you could find the way,\" he said. \"You might find that not so easy any longer.\" Then the cynicism slipped from his face and he stood holding Niniane's hand lightly in his and said, \"I care not what Arthur may do in the time remaining to him. Like Galahad, he may have his moments, for he will be along time without them.\" He stared down at what looked like an ocean of mist surrounding Camelot. \"When the mist clears we will see Avalon from here, perhaps, and Dragon Island.\" He sighed and said, \"Did you know-some of the Saxons are moving into that country now, and there has been hunting of the deer on Dragon Island, though Arthur forbade it.\"\n\nNiniane's face hardened in anger. \"A stop must be put to that. The place is sacred, and the deer-\"\n\n\"And the little folk who own the deer. But Aedwin the Saxon slaughtered them,\" Gwydion said. \"He told Arthur that they shot at his men with poisoned elf-arrows, so he gave his men leave to kill as many of them as he could find. And now they hunt the deer-and Arthur will go to war against Aedwin, if he must. I wish Aedwin had a better cause-in honor I must fight to protect those who look to Avalon.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And Arthur goes to war for their sakes?\" Niniane was surprised. \"I thought he had forsworn Avalon.\"\n\n\"Avalon, perhaps, but not the harmless folk from the island.\" Gwydion was silent, and Niniane knew he was remembering a day on Dragon Island. He slid his fingers along the tattooed serpents on his wrists, then pulled the sleeves of his Saxon tunic down over them. \"I wonder, could I still pull down a King Stag with only my hands and a flint knife?\"\n\n\"I doubt not that you could, if you were challenged,\" said Niniane. \"The question is, could Arthur? For if he cannot...\"\n\nShe left the question hanging in the air, and he said somberly, watching the enclosing mist, \"I do not think it will clear. Mist hangs here always, so thickly now that some of the Saxon kings who send messengers cannot find their way.... Niniane! Will Camelot too go into the mists?\"\n\nShe began to fling him back some careless word of jest or reassurance, then stopped and said, \"I know not. Dragon Island is defiled, the folk dying or dead, the sacred herd prey to the Saxon hunters. Northmen raid the coast. Will they one day sack Camelot as the Goths overthrew Rome?\"\n\n\"If I had known in time,\" Gwydion said with smothered violence, striking one fist against the other, \"if the Saxons had brought word to Arthur, he could have sent me-or some other-to protect that holy ground where he was made King Stag and made the sacred marriage with the land! Now the shrine of the Goddess has been overthrown, since he did not die to protect it, his kingship is forfeit.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Niniane heard what he did not say: And mine. She said, \"You knew not that it was endangered.\"\n\n\"And for that too I blame Arthur,\" Gwydion said. \"That the Saxons could think of doing this without consulting him-does it not say to you how little they think now of his High Kingship? And why do they think so little of him? I will tell you, Niniane-they think little of any king who is cuckold, who cannot rule his women-\"\n\n\"You who were reared in Avalon,\" she said angrily, \"will you judge Arthur by the Saxon's standards, which are worse than those of the Romans? Will you let a kingdom rise or fall because of some notion of how a man should keep his women in bonds? You are to be King, Gwydion, because you bear the royal blood of Avalon and because you are the child of the Goddess-\"\n\n\"Pah!\" Gwydion spat and followed it with an obscenity. \"Did it never occur to you, Niniane-perhaps Avalon fellas later Rome fell, because there was corruption at the heart of the realm? By Avalon's laws, Gwenhwyfar has done no more than is right-the lady shall choose who she will for her consort, and Arthur should be overthrown by Lancelet! Why, Lancelet is the son of the High Priestess herself-why not set him to be King in Arthur's place? But is our king to be chosen because some woman wants him in her bed?\" Again he spat. \"No, Niniane, that day is done-first the Romans and now the Saxons know how the world's to be. The world is no longer a great womb bearing men-now the movement of men and armies settles things. What people now would accept my rule because I was the son of this woman or that? Now it is the king's son who takes the land, and shall we turn away a good thing because the Romans did so first? We have better ships now-we will discover lands beyond the old lands that have sunk in the sea. Willa Goddess who is tied to this one patch of earth and its crops follow us there? Look at the Northmen who are raiding our coasts-will they be stopped with the Mother's curses? The few priestesses that are left in Avalon-no Saxons or wild Northmen will ever ravish them, because Avalon is no longer apart of the world in which these wild raiders live. Those women who live in the world that is coming will need men to guard them. The world now, Niniane, is not one of Goddesses, but of Gods, perhaps of one God. I need not try to bring Arthur down. Time and change alone will do that.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Niniane's back prickled as if with the Sight. \"And what of you, King Stag of Avalon? What of the Mother who sent you forth in her name?\"\n\n\"Do you think I mean to go into the mists with Avalon and Camelot? I mean to be High King after Arthur-and to do that, I must keep the glory of Arthur's court at full height. So Lancelet must go, which means that Arthur must be forced to banish him, and probably Gwenhwyfar as well. Are you with me, Niniane, or not?\"\n\nHer face was deathly white. She clenched her fists at her side, wishing that she had the power of Morgaine, the power of the Goddess, to rise like abridge from earth to sky and strike him down with the lightning force of the outraged Goddess. The crescent moon on her brow burned with rage.\n\n\"Am Ito help you by betraying a woman who has taken the right the Goddess has given to all women, to choose what man she will?\"\n\nGwydion laughed mockingly. \"Gwenhwyfar gave up that right when first she knelt at the feet of the slave's God.\"\n\n\"Nevertheless, I'll have nothing to do with betraying her.\"\n\n\"Then you will not send me word when she sends her women away again for the night?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Niniane, \"by the Goddess, I will not. And Arthur's treachery to Avalon is nothing to yours!\" She turned her back on him and would have moved away, but he caught and held her there.\n\n\"You'll do what I command you!\"\n\nShe struggled to free herself, at last wrenching her bruised wrists from him. \"Command me? Not in a thousand years!\" she said, breathless with fury. \"Beware, you who have laid hands on the Lady of Avalon! Arthur shall know now what sort of viper he has taken to his breast!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ina towering rage, Gwydion grabbed her other wrist and pulled her toward him, then struck her full force across the temple, and she fell to the ground without a cry. He was so full of wrath that he let her fall without a move to catch her.\n\n\"Well did the Saxons name you,\" said a low, savage voice from the fog. \"Evil counsel, Mordred-murderer!\"\n\nHe turned with a convulsive moment of fear and looked at the crumpled body of Niniane at his feet. \"Murderer? No! I was only angry with her-I would not hurt her-\" He stared around him, unable to make out anything in the thickening mist, yet knowing the voice.\n\n\"Morgaine! Lady-my mother!\"\n\nHe knelt, panic clutching at his throat, raising Niniane up, searching fora heartbeat but she lay there without breath, without life.\n\n\"Morgaine! Where are you? Where are you? Damn you, show yourself!\" But there was only Niniane, lifeless and unmoving at his feet. He clasped her to him, imploring. \"Niniane! Niniane, my love-speak tome-\"\n\n\"She will not speak again,\" said the bodiless voice, but as Gwydion turned this way and that in the fog, a woman's solid figure materialized out of it. \"Oh, what have you done, my son?\"\n\n\"Was it you? Was it you?\" Gwydion demanded, his voice cracking in hysteria. \" Was it you called me murderer?\n\nMorgause stepped back, half afraid. \"No, no, I came but now-what have you done?\"\n\nGwydion flung himself at her, and she held him, stroking him as she had done when he was twelve years old. \"Niniane angered me-she threatened me-as the Gods witness it, Mother, I meant her no harm, but she threatened to go to Arthur and tell him I plotted against his precious Lancelet,\" Gwydion said, almost babbling. \"I struck her, I swear I meant only to frighten her, but she fell-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgause let Gwydion go and knelt beside Niniane. \"You struck an unlucky blow, my son-she is dead. There's nothing you can do now. We must go and tell Arthur's marshals and stewards.\"\n\nHis face had gone livid. \"Mother! The marshals-what will Arthur say?\"\n\nMorgause felt a great melting within her heart. He was in her hands, as when he had been a little helpless child whom Lot would have killed, his life washers, and he knew it. She folded him to her breast.\n\n\"Never mind, my love, you mustn't suffer for it, anymore than for any other you killed in battle,\" she said, looking down with triumph at Niniane's lifeless body. \"She could have fallen in the fog-it's along way to the bottom of the hill,\" she said, looking over the brow of Camelot, where it descended steeply into the mist. \"So, catch hold of her feet thus. Done is done, and nothing that happens to her now can make a difference.\" Her old hatred of Arthur surged up; Gwydion would bring him down, and he would do it with her help-and when it was done, she would beat his side, the lady who had set him on his throne! Niniane was no longer between them; she herself alone should be his support and his help.\n\nSilently, in the fog, the slight body of the Lady of Avalon disappeared into the mists. Later Arthur would call for her and when she did not appear, send men to search; but Gwydion, staring as if hypnotized into the mists, thought fora moment that he saw the black shadow of the Avalon barge somewhere on the waters between Camelot and Dragon Island. It seemed to him fora moment that Niniane, robed in black as the Death-crone, beckoned to him from the barge... and then it was gone." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Come, my son,\" said Morgause. \"You spent this morning in my rooms and the rest of the day you must spend with Arthur in his hall. Remember, you have not seen Niniane this day-when you come to Arthur, you must ask for her, even seem a little jealous, as if you feared to find her in his bed.\"\n\nAnd it was balm to her heart that he clutched at her and muttered, \"I will. I will, my mother. Surely you are the best of all mothers, the best of all women!\"\n\nAnd she held him fora moment and kissed him again, savoring her power, before she let him go.\n\nGwenhwyfar lay wide-eyed in the darkness, waiting for the step of Lancelet, yet thinking of Morgause, smiling-almost leering-as she murmured, \"Ah, I envy you, my dear! Cormac is a fine young man, and hearty enough-but he has none of the grace and beauty of your lover.\" Gwenhwyfar had bent her head and said nothing. Who was she to scorn Morgause, when she was doing the same thing? But it was too dangerous. The bishop, on his last Sunday, had preached a sermon on the great commandment against adultery, saying that the chastity of wives lay at the very root of the Christian way of living, since only by married chastity did women redeem the sin of Eve. Gwenhwyfar recalled the tale of that woman taken in adultery, whom they had brought to Christ; he had said, Let that one who has done no sin, cast at her the fast stone. There had been none guiltless to cast it-but herein her court, there were many who were sinless, with Arthur himself to cast that stone. Christ had said to the woman, Go and sin no more. And that was what she must do...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was not his body she desired. Morgause, sniggering over the lusty young man who washer lover, would never have believed how little difference that had made to either of them. Seldom, indeed, had he ever taken her in that way which was sin and dishonor-only in those first years, when they had had Arthur's acquiescence, to try and see if Gwenhwyfar could bear a son to the kingdom. There had been other ways to find pleasure, which she somehow felt less of a sin, less violation of Arthur's marriage rights in her body. And even so, it was not that she desired so much, only that she should be with him... it was a thing, she thought, almost more of the soul than the body. Why should a God of love condemn this? He might condemn the sin they had done, for which she had done penance over and over, but how could he condemn this, which was the truest love of the heart?\n\nI have taken nothing from Arthur which he desired or needed of me. He must have a queen, a lady to keep his castle; for the rest, he wanted nothing of me save a son, and it was not I but God who denied him that.\n\nThere was a soft step in the darkness; she whispered, \"Lancelet?\"\n\n\"Not so.\" A glimmer of a tiny lamp in the darkness confused her; fora moment she saw what seemed a beloved face, grown young-then knew who it must be.\n\n\"How dare you? My women are not so far but that I can scream aloud, and there is none will believe that I summoned you here!\"\n\n\"Lie still,\" he said. \"There is a knife at your throat, my lady.\" And as she shrank away, clutching the bed clothing, \"Oh, don't flatter yourself, madam, I came not here for rape. Your charms are too stale for me, my lady, and too well tasted.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That's enough,\" said a husky voice in the dark behind Gwydion. \"Don't mock her, man! This is a dirty business, snooping at bedchamber doors, and I wish I'd never heard of it! Quiet, all of you, and hide yourselves around the chamber!\"\n\nShe recognized Gawaine's face as her eyes adapted to the dim light, and beyond them a familiar form. \"Gareth! What do you here?\" she asked, sorrowfully. \"I thought you Lancelet's dearest friend.\"\n\n\"And so I am,\" he said grimly. \"I came to see no worse done to him than justice. That one\"-he flicked a contemptuous gesture at Gwydion-\"would cut his throat-and leave you to be accused of murder!\"\n\n\"Be still,\" said Gwydion, and the light went out. Gwenhwyfar felt the pricking of the knife at her throat. \"If you speak a syllable to warn him, madam, I will cut your throat and take my chances explaining why to my lord Arthur.\" The point dug in till Gwenhwyfar, flinching with pain, wondered if it had actually drawn blood. She could hear small noises-the rustle of garments, the clink of weapons hurriedly muffled; how many men had he brought to this ambush? She lay silent, twisting her hands in despair. If only she could warn Lancelet... but she lay like a small animal in a snare, helpless.\n\nMinutes crawled by for the trapped woman silent between her pillows and the knife. After along time, she heard a tiny sound, a soft whistle like a bird call. Gwydion felt the tensing of her muscles and asked in a rasping whisper, \"Lancelet's signal?\" He dug the knife again into the yielding skin at her throat, and she whispered, sweating in terror, \"Yes.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She felt the straw beneath her rustle as he shifted his weight and moved away. \"There area dozen men in this room. Try to give him warning, and you will not live three seconds.\"\n\nShe heard sounds in the antechamber; Lancelet's cloak, his sword-ah, God, would they take him naked and weaponless? She tensed again, feeling in advance the knife driving into her body, but somehow she must warn him, must cry out-she opened her lips, but Gwydion-was it the Sight, how did he know?-thrust his hand cruelly over her face, smothering the cry. She writhed under his suffocating hand, then felt Lancelet's weight on the bed. \"Gwen?\" he whispered. \"What is the matter? Did I hear you crying, my beloved?\"\n\nShe managed to writhe away from the concealing hand. \"Run!\" she screamed. \"It's a trick, a trap-\" \"Hell's doors!\" She could feel him, like a cat, springing back. Gwydion's lamp flared; somehow the light went from hand to hand, until the room was filled with light, and Gawaine, Cai, and Gareth, with a dozen shadowy forms behind them, stepped forward. Gwenhwyfar huddled under the bedcover, and Lancelet stood still, quite naked, weaponless. \"Mordred,\" he said, in contempt. \"Such a trick is worthy of you!\" Gawaine said formally, \"In the King's name, Lancelet, I accuse you of high treason. Get me your sword.\"\n\n\"Never mind that,\" said Gwydion, \"go and take it.\"\n\n\"Gareth! In God's name, why did you lend yourself to this?\" Gareth's eyes were glistening as if with tears in the lamplight. \"I never believed it of you, Lancelet. I would to God I had fallen in battle before ever I saw this day.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Co-writing with the writer, continue the narrative.\nTags: fantasy, arthurian, historical fantasy\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: The Mists of Avalon\nChapter: 15" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She felt the straw beneath her rustle as he shifted his weight and moved away. \"There area dozen men in this room. Try to give him warning, and you will not live three seconds.\"\n\nShe heard sounds in the antechamber; Lancelet's cloak, his sword-ah, God, would they take him naked and weaponless? She tensed again, feeling in advance the knife driving into her body, but somehow she must warn him, must cry out-she opened her lips, but Gwydion-was it the Sight, how did he know?-thrust his hand cruelly over her face, smothering the cry. She writhed under his suffocating hand, then felt Lancelet's weight on the bed. \"Gwen?\" he whispered. \"What is the matter? Did I hear you crying, my beloved?\"\n\nShe managed to writhe away from the concealing hand. \"Run!\" she screamed. \"It's a trick, a trap-\" \"Hell's doors!\" She could feel him, like a cat, springing back. Gwydion's lamp flared; somehow the light went from hand to hand, until the room was filled with light, and Gawaine, Cai, and Gareth, with a dozen shadowy forms behind them, stepped forward. Gwenhwyfar huddled under the bedcover, and Lancelet stood still, quite naked, weaponless. \"Mordred,\" he said, in contempt. \"Such a trick is worthy of you!\" Gawaine said formally, \"In the King's name, Lancelet, I accuse you of high treason. Get me your sword.\"\n\n\"Never mind that,\" said Gwydion, \"go and take it.\"\n\n\"Gareth! In God's name, why did you lend yourself to this?\" Gareth's eyes were glistening as if with tears in the lamplight. \"I never believed it of you, Lancelet. I would to God I had fallen in battle before ever I saw this day.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lancelet bent his head and Gwenhwyfar saw his eyes, panicky, move around the room. He muttered, \"Oh, God, Pellinore looked at me so when they came with the torches to take me in Elaine's bed-must I betray everyone, everyone?\" She wanted to reach out to him, to cry outwith pity and pain, to shelter him in her arms. But he would not look at her.\n\n\"Your sword,\" said Gawaine quietly. \"And dress yourself, Lancelet. I will not take you naked and disgraced into Arthur's presence. Enough men have witnessed your shame.\"\n\n\"Don't let him get at his sword-\" some faceless voice in the darkness protested, but Gawaine gestured the speaker contemptuously into silence. Lancelet turned slowly away from them, into the tiny antechamber where he had left clothing, armor, weapons. She heard him drawing on his garments. Gareth stood, his hand on his sword, as Lancelet came into the room, dressed but weaponless, his hands in full view.\n\n\"I am glad for your sake that you will come with us quietly,\" said Gwydion. \"Mother\"-he turned into the shadows, and Gwenhwyfar saw, with consternation, Queen Morgause standing there-\"see to the Queen. She shall be in your charge until Arthur may deal with her.\"\n\nMorgause advanced on the bedside. Gwenhwyfar had never noticed before how large a woman Morgause was, and how ruthless her jawline.\n\n\"Come along, my lady, get into your gown,\" she said. \"And I will help you peg your hair-you do not want to go naked and shameless before the King. And be glad there was a woman here. These men-\" she looked contemptuously at them-\"meant to wait until they could catch him actually inside you.\" Gwenhwyfar shrank from the brutality of the words; slowly, with lagging fingers, she began to draw on her gown. \"Must I dress before all these men?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gwydion did not wait for Morgause to answer. He said, \"Don't try to cozen us, shameless woman! Dare you pretend you have anything left of decency or modesty? Put on that gown, madam, or my mother shall bundle you into it like a sack!\"\n\nHe calls her mother. No wonder Gwydion is cruel and ruthless, with the Queen of Lothian to foster him! Yet Gwenhwyfar had seen Morgause so often as merely a lazy, jolly, greedy woman-what had brought her to this? She sat still, fastening the laces of her shoes.\n\nLancelet said quietly, \"It is my sword you want, then?\"\n\n\"You know it,\" Gawaine said.\n\n\"Why, then\"-moving almost more swiftly than the eye could follow, Lancelet leaped for Gawaine, and in another catlike movement, had Gawaine's own sword in his hand-\"come and take it, damn you!\" He lunged with Gawaine's sword at Gwydion, who fell across the bed, howling, bleeding from a great slash in his backside; then, as Cai stepped forward, sword in hand, Lancelet caught up a cushion from the bed and pushed Cai backward with it so that he fell into the advancing men, who tripped over him. He leaped upon the bed and said, low and short to Gwenhwyfar, \"Keep perfectly still and be ready!\"\n\nShe gasped, shrinking back and making herself small in a corner. They were coming at him again; he ran one of them through, briefly engaged another, and over that one's body, lunged and slashed at a shadowy attacker. The giant form of Gareth crumpled slowly to the floor. Lancelet was already fighting someone else, but Gwydion, bleeding, cried out, \"Gareth!\" and flung himself across the body of his foster-brother. In that moment of horrified lull, while Gwydion knelt, sobbing, over Gareth's body, Gwenhwyfar felt Lancelet catch her upon his arm, whirl, kill someone at the door-she never knew who it was-and then she was on her feet in the corridor, and Lancelet was pushing her, with frantic haste, ahead of him. Someone came at him out of the dark and Lancelet killed him, and they ran on." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Make for the stables,\" he gasped." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Horses, and out of here, fast.\"\n\n\"Wait!\" She caught at his arm. \"If we throw ourselves on Arthur's mercy-or you escape and I will stay and face Arthur-\"\n\n\"Gareth might have seen justice done. But with Gwydion's hand in it, do you think either of us would ever reach the King alive? I named him well Mordred!\" He hurried her into the stables, swiftly flung a saddle on his horse. \"No time to find yours. Ride behind me, and hold on well-I'm going to have to ride down the guards at the gate.\" And Gwenhwyfar realized she was seeing anew Lancelet-not her lover, but the hardened warrior. How many men had he killed this night? She had no time for fear as he lifted heron his horse and sprang up before her.\n\n\"Hang onto me,\" he said. \"I'll have no time to look after you.\" He turned then, and gave her one hard, long kiss. \"This is my fault, I should have known that infernal bastard would be spying-well, whatever happens now, at least it's over. No more lies and no more hiding. You're mine forever-\" and he broke off. She could feel him trembling, but he turned savagely to grip the reins. \"And now we go!\"\n\nMORGAUSE LOOKED ON in horror as Gwydion, weeping, bent over her youngest son.\n\nWords spoken in half earnest, years ago-Gwydion had refused to take the lists on the opposite side from Gareth, even in a mock battle. It seemed tome that you lay dying, he had said... and I knew it was my doing you lay without the spark of life.... I will not tempt that fate.\n\nLancelet had done this, Lancelet whom Gareth had always loved more than any other man." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "One of the men in the room stepped forward and said, \"They're getting away-\"\n\n\"Do you think I care about that?\" Gwydion winced, and Morgause realized that he was bleeding, that his blood was flowing and mingling with Gareth's on the floor of the chamber. She caught up the linen sheet from the bed, tore it, and wadded it against Gwydion's wound.\n\nGawaine said somberly, \"No man in all of Britain will hide them now. Lancelet is everywhere outcast. He has been taken in treason to his king, and his very life is forfeit. God! How I wish it had not come to this!\" He came and looked at Gwydion's wound, then shrugged. \"No more than a flesh cut-see, the bleeding is slowed already, it will heal, but you will not sit in comfort for some days. Gareth-\" His voice broke; the great, rough, greying man began to weep like a child. \"Gareth had worse fortune, and I will have Lancelet's life for it, if I die myself at his hands. Ah God, Gareth, my little one, my little brother-\" and Gawaine bent and cradled the big body against him. He said thickly, through sobs, \"Was it worth it, Gwydion, was it worth Gareth's life?\"\n\n\"Come away, my boy,\" said Morgause, through a tightness in her own throat-Gareth, her baby, her last child; she had lost him long ago to Arthur, but still she remembered a fair-haired little boy, clutching a wooden painted knight in his hand. And one day you and I shall goon quest together, sir Lancelet... always Lancelet. But now Lancelet had overreached himself, and everywhere in the land every man's hand would be against him. And still she had Gwydion, her beloved, the one who would one day be King, and she at his side." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Come, my lad, come away, you can do nothing for Gareth now." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Let me bind up your wound, then we shall go to Arthur and tell him what has befallen, so that he may send out his men to seek for the traitors-\"\n\nGwydion shook her grip from his arm. \"Getaway from me, curse you,\" he said in a terrible voice. \"Gareth was the best of us, and I would not have sacrificed him fora dozen kings! It was you and your spite against Arthur always urging me on, as if I cared what bed the Queen slept in-as if Gwenhwyfar were any worse than you, when from the time I was ten years old you had this one or that one in your bed-\"\n\n\"Oh, my son-\" she whispered, aghast. \"How can you speak so tome? Gareth was my son too-\"\n\n\"What did you ever care for Gareth, or for any of us, or for anything but your own pleasure and your own ambition? You would urge me to a throne, not for my sake but for your own power!\" He thrust away her clinging hands. \"Get you back to Lothian, or to hell if the devil will have you, but if ever I set eyes on you again, I swear I will forget all except that you were the murderer of the one brother I loved, the one kinsman-\" and as Gawaine urgently pushed his mother from the chamber, she could hear Gwydion weeping again. \"Oh, Gareth, Gareth, I should have died first-\"\n\nGawaine said shortly, \"Cormac, take the Queen of Lothian to her chamber.\"\n\nHis strong arm was holding her upright, and after they had moved down the hall, after that dreadful sobbing had died away behind her, Morgause began to draw breath freely again. How could he turn on her this way? When had she ever done anything except for his sake? She must show decent mourning for Gareth, certainly, but Gareth was Arthur's man, and surely Gwydion would have realized it, sooner or later. She looked up at Cormac. \"I cannot walk so fast-hold back a little.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Certainly, my lady.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She was very much aware of his arm enfolding her, holding her. She let herself lean a little on him. She had bragged to Gwenhwyfar of her young lover, but she had never yet actually taken him to her bed-she had kept him delaying, dangling. She turned her head against his shoulder. \"You have been faithful to your queen, Cormac.\"\n\n\"I am loyal to my royal house, as all my people have ever been,\" the young man said in their own language, and she smiled.\n\n\"Here is my chamber-help me inside, will you? I can scarce walk-\"\n\nHe supported her, eased her down on her bed. \"Is it my lady's will that I call her women?\"\n\n\"No,\" she whispered, catching at his hands, aware that her tears were seductive. \"You have been loyal tome, Cormac, and now is that loyalty to be rewarded-come here-\"\n\nShe held out her arms, half shutting her eyes, then opened them, in shock, as he pulled awkwardly away.\n\n\"I-I think you are distraught, madam,\" he stammered. \"What do you think I am? What do you take me for? Why, lady, I have as much respect for you as for my own grandmother! Should I take advantge of an old womanlike you when you are beside yourself with grief? Let me call your waiting-woman, and she will make you a nice posset and I will forget what you said in the madness of grief, madam.\"\n\nMorgause could feel the blow in the very pit of her stomach, repeated blows on her heart-my own grandmother... old woman... the madness of grief.... The whole of the world had suddenly gone mad-Gwydion insane with ingratitude, this man who had looked on her so long with desire turning on her... she wanted to scream, to call for her servants and have him whipped till his back ran crimson with his blood and the walls rang with his shrieking for mercy. But even as she opened her mouth for that, the whole weight of her life seemed to descend on her in deadly weariness." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yes,\" she said dully, \"I do not know what I was saying-call my women, Cormac, and tell them to bring me some wine. We will ride at daybreak for Lothian.\"\n\nAnd when he had gone, she sat on the bed without the strength to lift her hands.\n\nI am an old woman. And I have lost my son Gareth, and I have lost Gwydion, and I will never now be Queen in Camelot. I have lived too long.\n\nClinging to Lancelet's back, her gown pulled up above her knees and her bare legs hanging down, Gwenhwyfar closed her eyes as they rode hard through the night. She had no idea where they were going. Lancelet was a stranger, a hard-faced warrior, a man she had never known. There was a time, she thought, when I would have been terrified, out like this under the open sky, at night... but she felt excited, exhilarated. At the back of her mind was pain too, mourning for the gentle Gareth who had been like a son to Arthur and deserved better of life than to be struck down so-she wondered if Lancelet even knew whom he had killed! And there was grief for the end of her years with Arthur, and all they had shared for so long. But from what had happened this night there could be no going back. She had to lean forward to hear Lancelet over the rushing of wind. \"We must stop somewhere soon, the horse must rest-and if we ride in daylight, my face and yours are known all through this countryside.\"\n\nShe nodded; she had not breath enough to speak. After a time they came within a little wood, and there he pulled to a stop and lifted her gently from the horse's back. He led the horse to water, then spread his cloak on the ground for her to sit. He stared at the sword by his side. \"I still have Gawaine's sword. When I was a boy-I heard tales of the fighting madness, but I knew not that it was within our blood-\" and sighed heavily. \"There is blood on the sword. Whom did I kill, Gwen?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She could not bear to see his sorrow and guilt. \"There was more than one-\"\n\n\"I know I struck Gwydion-Mordred, damn him. I know I wounded him, I could still act with my own will then. I don't suppose\"-his voice hardened-\"that I had the luck to kill him?\"\n\nSilently she shook her head.\n\n\"Then who?\" She did not speak; he leaned over and took her shoulders so roughly that fora moment she was afraid of the warrior as she had never been of the lover. \"Gwen, tell me! In God's name-did I kill my cousin Gawaine?\"\n\nThis she could answer without hesitation, glad it was Gawaine he had named. \"No. I swear it, not Gawaine.\"\n\n\"It could have been anyone,\" he said, staring at the sword and suddenly shuddering. \"I swear it to you, Gwen, I knew not even that I had a sword in my hand. I struck Gwydion as if he had been a dog, and then I remember no more until we were riding-\" and he knelt before her, trembling. He whispered, \"I am mad again, I think, as once I was mad-\"\n\nShe reached out, caught him against her in a passion of wild tenderness. \"No, no,\" she whispered, \"ah, no, my love-I have brought all this on you, disgrace and exile-\"\n\n\"You say that,\" he whispered, \"when I have brought them on you, taken you away from everything that meant anything to you-\"\n\nReckless, she pressed herself to him and said, \"Would to God that you had done it before!\"\n\n\"Ah, it is not too late-I am young again, with you beside me, and you-you have never been more beautiful, my own dear love-\" He pushed her back on the cloak, suddenly laughing in abandon. \"Ah, now there's none to come between us, none to interrupt us, my own-ah, Gwen, Gwen-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As she came into his arms, she remembered the rising sun and a room in Meleagrant's castle. It was like that now; and she clung to him, as if there were nothing else in the world, nothing more for either of them, not ever.\n\nThey slept a little, curled together in the cloak, and wakened still in each other's arms, the sun searching for them through the green branches overhead. He smiled, touching her face.\n\n\"Do you know-never before have I wakened in your arms without fear. Yet now I am happy, in spite of all...\" and he laughed at her, a note of wildness coming into the laughter. There were leaves in his white hair, and leaves caught in his beard, and his tunic was rumpled; she put up her hands and felt grass and leaves in her own hair, which was coming down. She had noway to comb it, but she caught it in handfuls and parted it to braid, then bound the end of the single braid with a scrap ripped from the edge of her torn skirt. She said, her voice catching with laughter, \"What a pair of wild ragamuffins we are! Who would know the High Queen and the brave Lancelet?\"\n\n\"Does it matter to you?\"\n\n\"No, my love. Not in the least.\"\n\nHe brushed leaves and grass out of his hair and beard. \"I must getup and catch the horse,\" he said, \"and perhaps there will be a farm nearby where we can find you some bread or a drink of ale-I have not a single coin with me, nor anything worth money, save my sword, and this-\" He touched a little gold pinon his tunic. \"For the moment, at least, we are beggars, though if we could reach Pellinore's castle, I still have a house there, where I lived with Elaine, and servants-and gold, too, to pay our passage overseas. Will you come with me to Less Britain, Gwenhwyfar?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Anywhere,\" she whispered, her voice breaking, and at that moment she meant it absolutely-to Less Britain, or to Rome, or to the country beyond the world's end, only that she might be with him forever. She pulled him down to her again and forgot everything in his arms.\n\nBut when, hours later, he lifted heron the horse and they went on at a soberer pace, she fell silent, troubled. Yes, no doubt they could make their way overseas. Yet when this night's work was talked from one end of the world to the other, shame and scorn would comedown on Arthur, so that for his own honor he must seek them out wherever they fled. And soon or late, Lancelet must know that he had slain the friend who was dearest to him in all the world save only Arthur's self. He had done it in madness, but she knew how grief and guilt would consume him and in time he would remember, when he looked on her, not that she was his love, but that he had killed his friend, unknowing, for her sake; and that he had betrayed Arthur for her sake. If he must make war on Arthur for her sake, he would hate her....\n\nNo. He would love her still, but he would never forget by whose blood he had come to possess her. Never would one or the other-love or hate-take power over him, but he would live with them both, tearing doubly at his heart, and one day they would tear his mind to bits and he would go mad again. She clung close to the warmth of his body, leaning her head against his back, and wept. She knew, for the first time, that she was stronger than he, and it cut at her heart with a deathly sword.\n\nAnd so when they paused again, she was dry-eyed, though she knew that the weeping had moved inward to her heart and never would she cease to mourn. \"I will not go overseas with you, Lancelet, nor will I bring strife among all the old Companions of the Round Table. When-when Mor-dred has his way, they will all beat odds,\" she said, \"and a day will come when Arthur will need all his friends. I will not be like that lady of old time-washer name Helen, that fair one in the saga you used to tell tome?-who had all the kings and knights of her day at strife over her in Troy.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But what will you do?\" She tried not to hear that even through the bewilderment and grief in his voice, there was a thread of relief.\n\n\"You will take me to the Isle of Glastonbury,\" she said. \"There is a nunnery there where I was schooled. There I will go, and I will tell them only that evil tongues made a quarrel between you and Arthur for my sake. When sometime has passed, I will send word to Arthur so that he knows where I am, and knows that I am not with you. And then he can with honor make his peace with you.\"\n\nHe protested, \"No! No, I cannot let you go-\" but she knew, with a sinking at her heart, that she would have no difficulty persuading him. Perhaps, against all odds, she had hoped that he would fight for her, that he would carry her off to Less Britain with the sheer force of his will and passion. But that was not Lancelet's way. He was as he was, and whatever he was, so and no other way he had been when first she loved him, and so he was now, and so she would love him for the rest of her life. And at last he strove no more with her, but set the horse's head on the road toward Glastonbury.\n\nTHE LONG SHADOW of the church lay across the waters when they set foot at last on the boat that would bring them to the island, and the church bells were ringing out the Angelus. Gwenhwyfar bent her head and whispered a word of prayer.\n\nMary, God's Holy Mother, have pity on me, a sinful woman... and then fora moment it seemed to her that she stood beneath a great light, as she had stood on that day when the Grail passed through the hall. Lancelet satin the prow of the ferry, his head lowered. He had not touched her from the moment she had told him what she had decided, and she was glad; a single touch of his hand would have worn away her resolve. Mist lay on the Lake, and for an instant it seemed to her that she saw a shadow, like the shadow of their own boat, a barge draped in black, with a dark figure at the prow-but no. It was only a shadow, a shadow...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The boat scraped on the shore. He helped her from it. \"Gwenhwyfar-are you certain?\"\n\n\"I am certain,\" she said, trying to sound surer than she felt.\n\n\"Then I will escort you to the doors of the convent,\" he said, and it suddenly struck her that this took, for him, more courage than all the killing he had done for her sake.\n\nThe old abbess recognized the High Queen, and was awed and amazed that she should return, but Gwenhwyfar told the tale she had decided on-that evil tongues had wrought a quarrel between Arthur and Lancelet for her sake, and she had chosen to take refuge here so they might amend their quarrel.\n\nThe old woman patted her cheek as if she were the little Gwenhwyfar who had been lessoned here when she was a child. \"You are welcome to stay as long as you wish it, my daughter. Forever, if that is your will. In God's house we turn no one away. But here you will not be a queen,\" she warned, \"only one of our sisters.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar sighed with utter relief. She had not known till this moment how heavy it was, the weight of being a queen. \"I must say farewell to my knight, and wish him well, and bid him amend the quarrel with my husband.\"\n\nThe abbess nodded gravely. \"In these days, our good King Arthur cannot spare a single one of his knights, and surely not the good sir Lancelet.\"\n\nGwenhwyfar went out into the anteroom of the convent. Lancelet was there, wandering restlessly. He took her hands. \"I cannot bear to say farewell to you here, Gwenhwyfar-ah, my lady, my love, must it be this way?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"It must be so,\" she said pitilessly, but knowing that for the first time she acted without thought of herself." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Your heart was always with Arthur, my dearest. I often think the only sin we did was not that we loved, but that I came between the love you had for each other.\" If it could always have been among us three as it was on that Beltane night with Morgaine's love charm, she thought, there would have been less of sin. The sin was not that we lay together, but that there was strife, and less of love therefore. \"I send you back to Arthur with all my heart, dearest. Tell him for me that I loved him never the less.\"\n\nHis face was almost transfigured. \"I know that now,\" he said. \"And I know, too, that I loved him never the less, and I felt always that I wronged you by loving him....\" He would have kissed her, but it was not suitable here. Instead he bent over her hand. \"While you are in God's house, pray for me, lady.\"\n\nMy love for you is a prayer, she thought. Love is the only prayer I know. She thought she had never loved him so much as at this moment, when she heard the convent door close, hard and final, and felt the walls shutting her in.\n\nSo safe, so protected, those walls had made her feel, in that daylong past. Now she knew that she would walk between them all the rest of her life. When I had freedom, she thought, I desired it not, and feared it. And now, when I have learned to love it and long for it, I am renouncing it in the name of my love. Dimly she felt that this was right-the acceptable gift and sacrifice to bring before God. But as she walked through the nuns' cloister, she looked at the walls closing her in, trapping her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "For my love. And for the love of God, she thought, and felt a small seed of comfort stealing through her. Lancelet would go to the church where Galahad had died, and there he would pray. Perhaps he would remember a day when the mists of Avalon had opened, and she and he and Morgaine had stood together, lost, knee-deep in the waters of the Lake. She thought of Morgaine too, with a sudden passion of love and tenderness. Mary, Holy Mother of God, be with her too, and bring her to you one day....\n\nThe walls, the walls, they would drive her mad, closing her in, she would never be free again.... No. For her love, and for the love of God, she would even learn to love them again one day. Folding her hands in prayer, Gwenhwyfar walked down the cloister to the sisters' enclosure, and went inside forever.\n\nMORGAINE SPEAKS...\n\nI thought I was beyond the Sight; Viviane, still younger than I, had renounced it, chosen another to be Lady in her place. But there was none to sit in the shrine of the Lady after me, and none to approach the Goddess. I saw it, helpless, when Niniane died, and I could not stretch forth my hand.\n\nI had loosed this monster upon the world, and I had acquiesced in that move which should send him to throw down the King Stag. And I saw it from afar when, on Dragon Island, the shrine was thrown down and the deer hunted in the forest, without love, without challenge, without appeal to her who was giver of the deer; only arrows from afar and the edge of the spear, and her people hunted down like her deer. The tides of the world were changing. There were times when I saw Camelot too, drifting in the mist, and the wars raging up and down the land again, the Northmen who were the new foe plundering and burning... anew world, and new Gods." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Truly the Goddess had departed, even from Avalon, and I, mortal as I was, remained there alone....\n\nAnd yet, one night, some dream, some vision, some fragment of the Sight, drove me, at the hour of the dark moon, to the mirror.\n\nAt first I saw only the wars raging up and down the land. I never knew what came between Arthur and Gwydion, although, after Lancelet fled with Gwenhwyfar, there was enmity among the old Companions, blood feud declared between Lancelet and Gawaine. Later, when Gawaine lay dying, that great-hearted man begged Arthur, with his last breath, to make his peace with Lancelet and summon him to Camelot once more. But it was too late; not even Lancelet could rally Arthur's legion again, not when so many followed Gwydion, who now led half of Arthur's own men and most of the Saxons and even a few of the renegade Northmen against him. And in that hour before dawn, the mirror cleared, and in the unearthly light I saw the face of my son at last with a sword in his hand, circling slowly, in the darkness, seeking...\n\nSeeking, as Arthur in his day had sought, to challenge the King Stag. I had forgotten what a small man Gwydion was, like Lancelet. Elf-arrow, the Saxons had called Lancelet; small, dark, and deadly. Arthur would have towered more than ahead above him.\n\nAh, in the days of the Goddess, man went against King Stag to seek his kingship! Arthur had been content to await his father's death, but now anew thing was coming upon this land-father and son enemies, and sons to challenge fathers fora crown... it seemed tome that I could see a land that ran red with blood, where sons were not content to await their crowning day. And now, in the circling dark, it seemed that I could see Arthur too, tall and fair and alone, cutoff from his men... and Excalibur naked in his hand." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But through and around the prowling figures I could see Arthur in his tent, restlessly asleep, Lancelet guarding him as he slept; and somewhere, too, I knew Gwydion slept among his own armies. Yet some part of them prowled restless on the shores of the Lake, seeking in the darkness, swords naked, against one another.\n\n\"Arthur! Arthur, stand to the challenge, or do you fear me too much?\"\n\n\"No man can say that I ever ran from a challenge.\" Arthur turned as Gwydion came from the wood. \"So,\" he said, \"it is you, Mordred. I nevermore than half believed that you had turned against me till now when I see it with my own eyes. I thought those who told me so sought to undermine my courage by telling me the worst that could befall. What have I done? Why have you become my enemy? Why, my son?\"\n\n\"Do you truly believe that I was ever anything else, my father?\" He spoke the word with the greatest bitterness. \"For what else was I begotten and born, but for this moment when I challenge you fora cause that is no longer within the borders of this world? I no longer even know why I am to challenge you-only that there is nothing else left in my life but for this hatred.\"\n\nArthur said quietly, \"I knew Morgaine hated me, but I did not know she hated meas much as this. Must you do her will even in this, Gwydion?\"\n\n\"Do you think I do her will, you fool?\" Gwydion snarled. \"If anything could bid me spare you, it is that-that I do Morgaine's will, that she wishes you overthrown, and I know not whether I hate more her or you...\"\n\nAnd then, stepping forth into their dream or vision or whatever it might be, I knew that I stood on the shores of the Lake where they challenged each other, stood between them clad in the robes of a priestess." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Must this be? I call upon you both, in the name of the Goddess, to amend your quarrel. I sinned against you, Arthur, and against you, Gwydion, but your hate is for me, not for each other, and in the name of the Goddess I beg of you-\"\n\n\"What is the Goddess tome?\" Arthur tightened his fist on the hilt of Excalibur. \"I saw her always in your face, but you turned away from me, and when the Goddess rejected me, I sought another God....\"\n\nAnd Gwydion said, looking on me with contempt, \"I needed not the Goddess, but the woman who mothered me, and you put me into the hands of one who had no fear of any Goddess or any God.\"\n\nI tried to cry out, \"I had no choice! I did not choose-\" but they came at each other with their swords, rushing through meas if I were made of air, and it seemed that their swords met in my body... and then I was in Avalon again, staring in horror at the mirror where I could see nothing, nothing but the widening stain of blood in the sacred waters of the Well. My mouth was dry and my heart pounding as if it would beat a hole in the walls of my chest, and the taste of ruin and death was bitter on my lips.\n\nI had failed, failed, failed! I was false to the Goddess, if indeed there was any Goddess except for myself; false to Avalon, false to Arthur, false to brother and son and lover... and all I had sought was in ruin. In the sky was a pale and reddening flush where, sometime soon, the sun would rise; and beyond the mists of Avalon, cold in the sky, I knew that somewhere Arthur and Gwydion would meet, this day, for the last time." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As I went to the shore to summon the barge, it seemed tome that the little dark people were all around me and that I walked among them as the priestess I had been. I stood in the barge alone, and yet I knew there were others standing therewith me, robed and crowned, Morgaine the Maiden, who had summoned Arthur to the running of the deer and the challenge of the King Stag, and Morgaine the Mother who had been torn asunder when Gwydion was born, and the Queen of North Wales, summoning the eclipse to send Accolon raging against Arthur, and the Dark Queen of Fairy... or was it the Death-crone who stood at my side? And as the barge neared the shore, I heard the last of his followers cry, \"Look-look, there, the barge with the four fair queens in the sunrise, the fairy barge of Avalon....\"\n\nHe lay there, his hair matted with blood, my Gwydion, my lover, my son... and at his feet Gwydion lay dead, my son, the child I had never known. I bent and covered his face with my own veil. And I knew that it was the end of an age. In the days past, the young stag had thrown down the King Stag, and become King Stag in his turn; but the deer had been slaughtered, and the King Stag had killed the young stag and there would be none after him...\n\nAnd the King Stag must die in his turn.\n\nI knelt at his side. \"The sword, Arthur. Excalibur. Take it in your hand. Take it, and fling it from you, into the waters of the Lake.\"\n\nThe Sacred Regalia were gone out of this world forever, and the last of them, the sword Excalibur, must go with them. But he whispered, protesting, holding it tight, \"No-it must be kept for those who come after-to rally their cause, the sword of Arthur-\" and looked up into the eyes of Lancelet. \"Take it, Galahad-hear you not the trumpets from Camelot, calling to Arthur's legion? Take it--for the Companions-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No,\" I told him quietly. \"That day is past. None after you must pretend or claim to bear the sword of Arthur.\" I loosed his fingers gently from the hilt. \"Take it, Lancelet,\" I said softly, \"but fling it from you far into the waters of the Lake. Let the mists of Avalon swallow it forever.\"\n\nLancelet went quietly to do my bidding. I know not if he saw me, or who he thought I was. And I cradled Arthur against my breast. His life was fading fast; I knew it, but I was beyond tears.\n\n\"Morgaine,\" he whispered. His eyes were bewildered and full of pain. \"Morgaine, was it all for nothing then, what we did, and all that we tried to do? Why did we fail?\"\n\nIt was my own question, and I had no answer; but from somewhere, the answer came. \"You did not fail, my brother, my love, my child. You held this land in peace for many years, so that the Saxons did not destroy it. You held back the darkness fora whole generation, until they were civilized men, with learning and music and faith in God, who will fight to save something of the beauty of the times that are past. If this land had fallen to the Saxons when Uther died, then would all that was beautiful or good have perished forever from Britain. And so you did not fail, my love. None of us knows how she will do her will-only that it will be done.\"\n\nAnd I knew not, even then, whether what I spoke was truth, or whether I spoke to comfort him, in love, as with the little child Igraine had put into my arms when I was but a child myself; Morgaine, she had told me, take care of your little brother, and so I had always done, so I would always do, now and beyond life... or was it the Goddess herself who had put Arthur into my arms?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He pressed his failing fingers over the great cut at his breast. \"If I had but-the scabbard you fashioned for me, Morgaine-I should not lie here now with my life slowly bleeding forth from me.... Morgaine, I dreamed-and in my dream I cried out for you, but I could not hold you-\"\n\nI held him close. In the first light of the rising sun I saw Lancelet raise Excalibur in his hand, then fling it as hard as he could. It flew through the air end over end, the sun glinting as if on the wing of a white bird; then it fell, twisting, and I saw no more; my eyes were misted with tears and the growing light.\n\nThen I heard Lancelet: \"I saw a hand rising from the Lake-a hand that took the sword, and brandished it three times in the air, and then drew it beneath the water...\"\n\nI had seen nothing, only the glimmer of light on a fish that broke the surface of the Lake; but I doubt not that he saw what he said he saw.\n\n\"Morgaine,\" Arthur whispered, \"is it really you? I cannot see you, Morgaine, it is so dark here-is the sun setting? Morgaine, take me to Avalon, where you can heal me of this wound-take me home, Morgaine-\"\n\nHis head was heavy on my breast, heavy as the child in my own childish arms, heavy as the King Stag who had come tome in triumph. Morgaine, my mother had called impatiently, take care of the baby... and all my life I had borne him with me. I held him close and wiped away his tears with my veil, and he reached up and caught at my hand with his own.\n\n\"But it is really you,\" he murmured, \"it is you, Morgaine... you have comeback tome... and you are so young and fair... I will always seethe Goddess with your face... Morgaine, you will not leave me again, will you?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I will never leave you again, my brother, my baby, my love,\" I whispered to him, and I kissed his eyes. And he died, just as the mists rose and the sun shone full over the shores of Avalon.\n\nEpilogue\n\nIN THE spring of the year after this, Morgaine had a curious dream.\n\nShe dreamed that she was in the ancient Christian chapel upon Avalon, builtin the old times by that Joseph of Arimathea who had come here from the Holy Land. And there, before that altar where Galahad had died, Lancelet stood in the robes of a priest, and his face was solemn and shining. In her dream she went, as she had never done in any Christian church, to the altar rail for the sharing of their bread and wine, and Lancelet bent and set the cup to her lips and she drank. And then it seemed to her that he knelt in his turn, and he said to her, \"Take this cup, you who have served the Goddess. For all the Gods are one God, and we are all One, who serve the One.\" And as she took the cup in her hands to set it to his lips in her turn, priestess to priest, he was young and beautiful as he had been years ago. And she saw that the cup in her hands was the Grail.\n\nAnd then he cried out, as he had done when Galahad knelt before him, \"Ah, the light-the light-\" and fell forward and lay on the stones without moving; and Morgaine woke in her isolated dwelling on Avalon with that cry of rapture still ringing in her ears; and she was alone.\n\nIt was very early, and mist lay thick on Avalon. She rose quietly and robed herself in the dark garb of a priestess, but she tied her veil around her head so that the crescent tattoo there was invisible." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She went quietly out into the stillness of the dawn, taking the downward path beside the Sacred Well. Still as it was, she could sense noiseless footsteps, silent as shadows, behind her. She was never alone; the little dark people always attended her, though she seldom actually saw them-she was their mother and their priestess and they would never leave her. But when she came near the shadow of the ancient Christian chapel, the footsteps gradually ceased; they would not follow heron this ground. Morgaine paused at the door.\n\nInside the chapel there was a glimmer of light, the light they always kept in their sanctuary. Fora moment, so real was the memory of her dream, Morgaine was tempted to step inside... she could hardly believe she would not see Lancelet there, struck down by the magical brilliance of the Grail... but no. She had no business there, and she would not intrude on their God; and if indeed the Grail was there, it had gone beyond her reach.\n\nYet the dream remained with her. Had it been sent as a warning? Lancelet was younger than she herself was... she knew not how time ran in the outer world. Avalon, now, had gone so far into the mists that it might be with Avalon as it had been with the fairy country when she was young-while a single year passed within Avalon, three or five or even seven years might have run by in the outer world. And so what it had come to her to do should be done now, while she could still come and go between the worlds.\n\nShe knelt before the Holy Thorn, whispering a soft prayer to the Goddess, and asking leave of the tree; then she cut a slip for planting. It was not the first time: in these last years, whenever one had come to Avalon and returned to the outside world, wandering Druid or pilgrim priest... fora few of them could still come to the ancient chapel on Avalon... she had sent with him a slip of the Holy Thorn, so that it might still blossom in the world outside. But this she must do with her own hands." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Never, except at Arthur's crowning, had she set foot on the other island... except, perhaps, for that day when the mists had opened, and Gwenhwy-far had somehow fallen or wandered through. But now, deliberately, she called the barge, and when it was out in the Lake, sent it into the mists, so that when it glided forth into the sunlight again, she could seethe long shadow of the church lying over the Lake, and hear the soft tolling of a bell. She saw her followers shrink from the sound, and knew that here, too, they would not follow her, nor set foot. So be it, then; the last thing she wished for was to have the priests on that isle staring in fear and dread at the barge from Avalon. Unseen, they glided toward the shore and unseen she stepped onto the land, watching the black-draped barge vanish again into the mists. And then, the basket over her arm-like any old market woman or peddler come hereon pilgrimage, she thought-she went silently up the path from the shore.\n\nOnly a hundred years or less, certainly less in Avalon, that these worlds have diverged; yet already the world here is different. The trees were different, and the paths, and she stopped, bewildered, at the foot of a little hill-surely there was nothing like this on Avalon? She had somehow thought the land would be the same, only the buildings different, for they were, after all, the same island, separated only by some magical change... but now she saw that they were very different.\n\nAnd then she saw, winding down the hill toward the little church, a procession of robed monks, and they bore with them, toward the church, a body on its bier." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "So I saw truly, then, even though I thought it a dream. She stopped, and as the monks brought the body to rest before taking it into the church, she went forward and drew back the pall from the dead face.\n\nLancelet's face was drawn and lined, far older than when they had parted... she did not want to think how much older. But she saw that only fora moment; then what she saw on his face was only the sweet and marvelous look of peace. He lay smiling, looking so far beyond her that she knew on what his dying eyes had rested.\n\nShe whispered, \"So at last you found your Grail.\"\n\nOne of the monks who carried him said, \"Perhaps you knew him in the world, sister?\" and she knew that in her dark garb, he thought her one of them.\n\n\"He was a-a kinsman of mine.\"\n\nCousin, lover, friend... but that was long ago. At the end we were priestess and priest.\n\n\"I thought as much,\" said the monk, \"for they called him Lancelet at the court of Arthur, in the old days, but here among us we called him Galahad. He had been with us for many years, and he was made priest but a few days ago.\"\n\nSo far you came in your search fora God who would not mock you, my cousin!\n\nThe monks who carried him raised him again to their shoulders. The one who had spoken with her said, \"Pray for his soul, sister,\" and she bowed her head. She could not feel grief; not now, when she had seen the reflection of that faraway light on his face.\n\nBut she would not follow him into the church. Here the veil is thin. Here Galahad knelt, and saw the light of the Grail in the other chapel, the chapel on Avalon, and reached for it, reached through the worlds, and so died...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And here at last Lancelet has come to follow his son.\n\nMorgaine walked slowly along the path, half ready to abandon what she had come to do. What difference did it make now? But as she paused, irresolute, an old gardener, kneeling atone of the beds of flowers behind the path, raised his head and spoke to her. \"I know you not, sister, you are not one of those who dwell here,\" he said. \"Are you a pilgrim?\"\n\nNot as the man thought; but so she was, in away. \"I seek the burial place of my kinswoman-she was the Lady of the Lake-\"\n\n\"Ah yes, that was many, many years ago, in the reign of our good King Arthur,\" he said. \"It lies yonder, where pilgrims to the island may see it. And from it, the path leads up to the convent of the sisters, and if you are hungry, sister, they will give you something to eat there.\"\n\nHas it come to this, that I look like a beggar? But the man had meant no harm, so she thanked him, and walked in the direction he had pointed out.\n\nArthur had built for Viviane a noble tomb indeed. But what lay there was not Viviane; nothing lay there but bones, slowly returning to the earth from which they had come... and all things at last give up their body and their spirit into the keeping of the Lady again....\n\nWhy had it made so much difference to her? Viviane was not there. Yet when she stood with bent head before the cairn, she was weeping.\n\nAfter a time, a woman in a dark robe not unlike her own, with a white veil over her head, approached her. \"Why do you weep, sister? She who lies here is at peace and in God's hands, she has no need of mourning. But maybe she was one of your kin?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine nodded, bending her head against the tears.\n\n\"We pray always for her,\" said the nun, \"for, though I do not know her name, she was said to be the friend and benefactor of our good King Arthur in the days that were gone.\" She lowered her head and murmured some prayer or other, and even as she prayed, bells rang out, and Morgaine drew back. So, in place of the harps of Avalon, Viviane had only these clanging bells and doleful psalms?\n\nNever did I think I would stand side by side with one of these Christian nuns, joining with her in prayer. But then she remembered what Lancelet had said in her dream.\n\nTake this cup, you who have served the Goddess. For all the Gods are One...\n\n\"Come up to the cloister with me, sister,\" said the nun, smiling and laying a hand on her arm. \"You must be hungry and weary.\"\n\nMorgaine went with her to the gates of their cloister, but would not go in. \"I am not hungry,\" she said, \"but if I might have a drink of water-\"\n\n\"Of course.\" The woman in black beckoned, and a young girl came and brought a pitcher of water, which she poured into a cup. And she said, as Morgaine lifted it to her lips, \"We drink only the water of the chalice well-it is a holy place, you know.\"\n\nIt was like Viviane's voice in her ears: The priestesses drink only the water of the Sacred Well.\n\nThe nun and the young girl, robed in black, turned and bent their heads before a woman who came from the cloister, and the nun who had guided her said, \"This is our abbess.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgaine thought, Somewhere I have seen her. But even as the thought crossed her mind, the woman said, \"Morgaine, you do not know me? We thought you long dead...\"\n\nMorgaine smiled at her, troubled. \"I am sorry-I do not-\"\n\n\"No, you would not remember me,\" said the abbess, \"though I saw you, now and again, at Camelot; I was so much younger. My name is Lionors. I was married to Gareth, and when all my children were grown, I came here-hereto end my days. Did you come to Lancelet's funeral, then?\" She smiled and said, \"I should indeed have said Father Galahad, but it is hard to remember, and now he is in Heaven it will not matter.\" She smiled again. \"I know not now even who is King, or whether Camelot still stands-there is war in the land again, it is not as it was in Arthur's time. That all seems so very long ago,\" she added with detachment.\n\n\"I came hereto visit Viviane's grave. She is buried here-do you remember?\"\n\n\"I have seen the tomb,\" said the abbess, \"but it was before ever I came to Camelot.\"\n\n\"I have a favor to beg of you,\" Morgaine said, and touched the basket on her arm. \"This is the Holy Thorn that grows on the hills of Avalon, where it is said that the foster-father of Christ struck his staff into the ground and it blossomed there. I would plant a cutting of this thorn tree on her grave.\"\n\n\"Plant it if you will,\" said Lionors. \"I cannot see how anyone could object to that. It seems right tome that it should be herein the world, and not hidden away in Avalon.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She looked at Morgaine, dismayed.\n\n\"Avalon! Have you come here from that unholy land?\"\n\nMorgaine thought, Once I would have been angry with her. \"Unholy it is not, whatever the priests say, Lionors,\" she said gently. \"Think-would the foster-father of Christ have struck his staff there if the land had seemed to him evil? Is not the Holy Spirit everywhere?\"\n\nThe woman bowed her head. \"You are right. I will send novices to help you with the planting.\"\n\nMorgaine would sooner have been alone, but she knew it was a kindly thought. The novices seemed no more than children to Morgaine, girls of nineteen or twenty, so young that she wondered-forgetting that she herself had been made priestess when she was eighteen-how they could possibly know enough of spiritual things to choose lives like this. She had thought nuns in Christian convents would be sad and doleful, ever conscious of what the priests said about the sinfulness of being born women, but these were innocent and merry as robins, talking gaily to Morgaine of their new chapel and bidding her rest her knees while they dug the hole for the cutting.\n\n\"And it is your kinswoman who is buried here?\" asked one of the girls. \"Can you read what it says? I never thought I would learn to read, for my mother said it was not suitable, but when I came here, they told me I must be able to read in the mass book, and so now I can read in Latin! Look,\" she said proudly, and read: \"\"King Arthur made this tomb for his kinswoman and benefactress, the Lady of the Lake, slain by treachery at his court in Camelot\"-I cannot read the date, but it was along time ago.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"She must have been a very holy woman,\" said another of the girls, \"for Arthur, they say, was the best and the most Christian of all kings. He would never have had any woman buried here unless she was a saint!\"\n\nMorgaine smiled; they reminded her of the girls in the House of Maidens. \"I would not call her a saint, though I loved her. In her day, there were those who called her a wicked sorceress.\"\n\n\"King Arthur would never have a wicked sorceress buried here among holy people,\" said the girl. \"And as for sorcery-well, there are ignorant priests and ignorant people, who are all too ready to cry sorcery if a woman is only a little wiser than they are! Are you going to stay and take the veil here, Mother?\" she asked, and Morgaine, fora moment startled at the word, realized that they were speaking to her with the same deference and respect as any of her own maidens in the House of Maidens, as if she were an elder among them.\n\n\"I am vowed elsewhere, my daughter.\"\n\n\"Is your convent as nice as this one? Mother Lionors is a kind woman,\" the girl said, \"and we are all very happy here-once we had a woman among our sisters who had been a queen. And I know we will go to Heaven, all of us,\" said the girl with a smile, \"but if you have taken vows elsewhere, I am sure that is a good place, too. Only I thought you might perhaps want to stay here, so that you could pray for the soul of your kinswoman who lies buried here.\" The girl rose and dusted off her dark dress. \"Now you may plant your cutting, Mother... or would you like me to set it in the earth?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No, I will do it,\" said Morgaine, and knelt to press the soft soil around the roots of the plant. As she rose, the girl said, \"If you wish, Mother, I will promise to come here and say a prayer every Sunday for your kinswoman.\"\n\nFor some absurd reason, Morgaine felt that tears were coming to her eyes. \"Prayer is always a good thing. I am grateful to you, daughter.\"\n\n\"And you, in your convent, wherever it maybe, you must pray for us too,\" said the girl simply, taking Morgaine's hand as she rose. \"Here, Mother, let me brush the dirt from your gown. Now you must come and see our chapel.\"\n\nFora moment Morgaine was inclined to protest. She had sworn when last she left Arthur's court that she would never again enter any Christian church; but this girl was so much like one of her own young priestesses that she would not profane the name by which the girl knew her God. She let the girl lead her inside the church.\n\nIn that other world, she thought, that church where the ancient Christians worship must stand on this very spot; some holiness from Avalon must surely come through the worlds, through the mists... she did not kneel or cross herself, but she bent her head before the high altar of the church; and then the girl tugged gently at her hand.\n\n\"Come,\" she said. \"The high altar is of God and I am a little afraid here always... but you have not seen our chapel-the sisters' chapel... come, Mother.\"\n\nMorgaine followed the young girl into the small side chapel. There were flowers here, armfuls of apple blossom, before a statue of a veiled woman crowned with a halo of light; and in her arms she bore a child. Morgaine drew a shaking breath and bowed her head before the Goddess." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The girl said, \"Here we have the Mother of Christ, Mary the Sinless. God is so great and terrible I am always afraid before his altar, but herein the chapel of Mary, we who are her avowed virgins may come to her as our Mother, too. And look, here we have little statues of our saints, Mary who loved Jesus and wiped his feet with her hair, and Martha who cooked dinner for him and scolded her sister when she would not cook with her-I like to think of Jesus when he was areal man who would do something for his mother, when he changed the water into wine at that wedding, so she wouldn't be unhappy because there wasn't enough wine for everyone. And here is a very old statue that our bishop gave us, from his native country... one of their saints, her name is Brigid...\"\n\nMorgaine looked on the statue of Brigid, and she could feel the power coming from it in great waves that permeated the chapel. She bowed her head.\n\nBut Brigid is not a Christian saint, she thought, even if Patricius thinks so. That is the Goddess as she is worshipped in Ireland. And I know it, and even if they think otherwise, these women know the power of the Immortal. Exile her as they may, she will prevail. The Goddess will never withdraw herself from mankind.\n\nAnd Morgaine bowed her head and whispered the first sincere prayer she had ever spoken in any Christian church.\n\n\"Why, look,\" said the novice, as she brought her out of doors into the daylight, \"we have one of the Holy Thorn here too, not the one you planted on your kinswoman's grave.\"\n\nAnd I thought I could meddle in this? Morgaine thought. Surely, the holy thing had brought itself from Avalon, moving, as the hallows were withdrawn from Avalon, into the world of men where it was most needed. It would remain hidden in Avalon, but it would be shown herein the world as well. \"Yes, you have the Holy Thorn, and in days to come, as long as this land shall last, every queen shall be given the Holy Thorn at Christmas, in token of her who is queen in Heaven as in Avalon.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I don't know what you are talking about, Mother, but thank you for your blessing,\" said the young novice. \"The abbess is awaiting you in the guesthouse-she will take breakfast with you. But would you like, perhaps, to stay in the Lady's chapel first and pray awhile? Sometimes when you are alone with the Holy Mother, she can make things clear to you.\"\n\nMorgaine nodded, unable to speak, and the girl said, \"Very well. When you are ready, just come to the guesthouse.\" She pointed, and Morgaine went back into the chapel and bowed her head, and giving way at last, sank to her knees.\n\n\"Mother,\" she whispered, \"forgive me. I thought I must do what I now see you can do for yourself. The Goddess is within us, yes, but now I know that you are in the world too, now and always, just as you are in Avalon and in the hearts of all men and women. Be in me too now, and guide me, and tell me when I need only let you do your will....\"\n\nShe was silent, kneeling, fora longtime, her head bowed, but then, as if compelled, she looked up, and as she had seen it on the altar of the ancient Christian brotherhood in Avalon, as she had seen it when she bore it in Arthur's hall, she saw alight on the altar, and in the Lady's hands-and the shadow, only the shadow, of a chalice...\n\nIt is in Avalon, but it is here. It is everywhere. And those who have need of a sign in this world will see it always.\n\nThere was a sweet scent that did not come from the flowers; and for an instant it seemed to Morgaine that it was Igraine's voice that whispered to her... but she could not hear the words... and Igraine's hands that touched her head. As she rose, blinded by tears, suddenly it rushed over her, like a great light." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "No, we did not fail. What I said to comfort Arthur in his dying, it was all true. I did the Mother's work in Avalon until at last those who came after us might bring her into this world. I did not fail. I did what she had given me to do. It was not she but I in my pride who thought I should have done more.\n\nOutside the chapel, sunlight lay on the land, and there was afresh scent of spring in the air. Where the apple trees moved in the morning breeze, she could seethe blossoms that would bear fruit in their season.\n\nShe turned her face toward the guesthouse. Should she go there and breakfast with the nuns, speak perhaps of the old days at Camelot? Morgaine smiled gently. No. She was filled with the same tenderness for them as for the budding apple trees, but that time was past. She turned her back on the convent and walked down to the Lake, along the old path by the shore. Here was a place where the veil lying between the worlds was thin. She needed no longer to summon the barge-she need only step through the mists here, and be in Avalon.\n\nHer work was done." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "In your role as the author's collaborator, continue the tale.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, imperialism\nAuthor: Terry Goodkind\nTitle: Naked Empire\nChapter: 23" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Just talking about such a punishment, thinking about it, was making Owen start to tremble.\n\n\"And that's when, sometimes, the races get such children,\" Richard said in a compassionate tone. \"When they're alone and vulnerable.\"\n\nWith the back of his hand Owen wiped the tear from his cheek. \" When a child must be putout to be punished, we take all possible precautions. We never put them out at night because that is when the races usually hunt. Children are putout for punishment only in the day. But when we are away from others, we are vulnerable to all the terrors and cruelties of the world. To be alone is a nightmare.\n\n\"We would do anything to avoid such punishment. Any child who misbehaves and is putout fora while will not likely misbehave again anytime soon. There is no greater joy than to finally be welcomed back in with our friends and family.\"\n\n\"So, for your people, banishment is the greatest punishment.\"\n\nOwen stared into the distance. \"Of course.\"\n\n\"Where I come from, we all got along pretty well, too. We enjoyed each other's company and had great fun when many people would gather. We valued our times together. When we're away fora time, we inquire about all the people we know and haven't seen in awhile.\"\n\nOwen smiled expectantly. \"Then you understand.\"\n\nRichard nodded, returning the smile. \"But occasionally there will be someone who won't behave, even when they're an adult. We try everything we can, but, sometimes, someone does something wrong-something they know is wrong. They might lie or steal. Even worse, at times someone will deliberately hurt another person-beat someone when robbing them, or rape a woman, or even murder someone.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Owen wouldn't lookup at Richard." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He stared at the ground.\n\nAshe spoke, Richard paced slowly before the man. \"When someone does something like that where you come from, Owen, what do your people do? How do an enlightened people handle such horrible crimes some of your people commit against others?\"\n\n\"We attack the root cause of such behavior from the beginning,\" Owen was quick to answer. \"We share all we have to make sure that everyone has what they need so that they don't have to steal. People steal because they feel the hurt of others acting superior. We show these people that we are no better than they and so they need not harbor such fears of others. We teach them to be enlightened and reject all such behavior.\"\n\nRichard shrugged nonchalantly. Kahlan would have thought that he would be ready to strangle the answers out of Owen, but, instead, he was behaving in a calm, understanding manner. She had seen him act this way before. He was the Seeker of Truth, rightfully named by the First Wizard himself. Richard was doing what Seekers did: find the truth. Sometimes he used his sword, sometimes words.\n\nEven though this was the way Richard often disarmed people when he questioned them, in this case it struck Kahlan that such a manner was precisely what Owen would be most accustomed to, most comfortable with. This gentle manner was pulling answers from the man and filling in a lot of information Kahlan had never thought of trying to get.\n\nShe had already learned that she was the cause of what had befallen these people.\n\n\"We both know, Owen, that, try as we might, such efforts to change people's ways don't always work. Some people won't change. There are times when people do evil things. Even among civilized people, there are some who will not behave in a civil manner despite all your best efforts. What's worse is that, if allowed to continue, these few jeopardize the whole community." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"After all, if you have a rapist among you, you can't allow him to continue to prey on women. If a man committed murder, you couldn't allow such a man to threaten the empire with his ways, now could you? An advanced culture, especially, can't be faulted for wanting to stop such dangers to enlightened people.\n\n\"But you've shunned all forms of violence, so you can hardly punish such a man physically-you couldn't put a murderer to death-not if you've truly rejected violence unconditionally. What do you do with such men? How does an enlightened people handle grave problems, such as murder?\"\n\nOwen was sweating. It seemed not to have occurred to him to deny the existence of murderers-Richard had already led him past that, had already established the existence of such men. Before Owen could think to object, Richard was already beyond, to the next step.\n\n\"Well,\" Owen said, swallowing, \"as you say, we are an enlightened people. If someone does something to harm another, they are given... a denunciation.\"\n\n\"A denunciation. You mean, you condemn their actions, but not the man. You give him a second chance.\"\n\n\"Yes, that's right.\" Owen wiped sweat from his brow as he glanced up at Richard. \"We work very hard to reform people who make such mistakes and are given a denunciation. We recognize that their actions area cry for help, so we counsel them in the ways of enlightenment in order to help them to see that they are hurting all our people when they hurt one, and that since they are one of our beloved people, they are only hurting themselves when they hurt another. We show such people compassion and understanding.\"\n\nKahlan caught Cara's arm, and with astern look convinced her to remain silent." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Richard paced slowly before Owen, nodding as if he thought that sounded reasonable. \"I understand. You put a great deal of effort into making them see that they can never do such a thing again.\"\n\nOwen nodded, relieved that Richard understood.\n\n\"But then there are times when one of those who has received a denunciation, and has been counseled to the very best of your ability, goes out and does the same crime again-or one even worse.\n\n\"It's clear, then, that he refuses to be reformed and that he's a threat to public order, safety, and confidence. Left to his own devises, such a person, by himself, will bring the very thing you unconditionally reject-violence-to stalk among your people and win others to his ways.\"\n\nAlight mist had begun to fall. Owen sat on the crate, trembling, frightened, alone. Only a short time ago he had been reluctant to answer even the most basic question in a meaningful way; now Richard had him speaking openly.\n\nFriedrich stroked the jaw of one of the horses as he quietly watched. Jennsen sat on a rock, Betty lying at her feet. Tom stood behind Jennsen, a hand resting gently on her shoulder, but keeping an eye on the man Kahlan had touched with her power. That man sat off to the side, listening dispassionately as he waited to be commanded. Cara stood beside Kahlan, ever watchful for trouble, but obviously caught up in the unfolding story of Owen's homeland, even if she was having a hard time holding her tongue.\n\nFor her part, Kahlan, while she could sympathize with Cara's difficulty in holding her tongue, was transfixed by the tale of a mysterious empire that Richard casually, effortlessly, drew from this man who had poisoned him. She couldn't imagine where Richard was going with his matter-of-fact questions. What did this empire's forms of punishment have to do with Richard being poisoned? It was clear to her, though, that Richard knew where he was headed, and that the path he was following was wide and sunlit." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Richard paused before Owen." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What do you do in those instances?-when you can't reform someone who has become a danger to everyone. What do an enlightened people do with that kind of person?\"\n\nOwen spoke in a soft voice that carried clearly in the misty early-morning hush. \"We banish them.\"\n\n\"Banish them. You mean, you send them into the boundary?\"\n\nOwen nodded.\n\n\"But you said that going into the boundary is death. You couldn't simply send them into the boundary or you would be executing them. You must have a place to send them through. A special place. A place where you can banish them, without killing them, but a place where you know they can never return to harm your people.\"\n\nOwen nodded again. \"Yes. There is such a place. The pass that is blocked by the boundary is steep and treacherous. But there is a path that leads down into the boundary. Those ancient ones who protected us by placing that boundary placed the path as well. The path is said to allow passage out. Because of the way the mountain descends, it is a difficult path, but it can be followed.\"\n\n\"And just because of how difficult it is, it's not possible to climb backup? To enter the Bandakaran Empire?\"\n\nOwen chewed his lower lip. \" It goes down through a terrible place, a narrow passageway through the boundary, a lifeless land, where it is said that death itself lies to each side. The person banished is given no water or food. He must find his own, on the other side, or perish. We place watchers at the entrance of the path, where they wait to be sure that the one banished has gone through and is not lingering in the boundary only to return. The watchers wait and watch for several weeks to be sure that the one banished has gone beyond in search of water and food, in search of his new life away from his people." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Once beyond, the forest is a terrible place, a frightening place, with roots that descend over the edge like a land of snakes." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The path takes you down under that cascade of roots and running water. Then, even lower, you find yourself in a strange land where the trees are far above, reaching for the distant light, but you see only their roots twisting and stretching down into the darkness toward the ground. It is said that once you see that forest of roots towering all around you, you have made it through the boundary and the pass through the mountains.\n\n\"There is said to be noway to enter our land from that other side-to use the pass to return to our empire.\n\n\"Once banished, there is no redemption.\"\n\nRichard moved up close beside Owen and placed a hand on his shoulder.\n\n\"What did you do to be banished, Owen?\"\n\nOwen sank forward, putting his face in his hands as he finally broke down sobbing." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Richard left his hand on Owen's shoulder as he spoke in a compassionate tone. \"Tell me what happened, Owen. Tell me in your own way.\"\n\nKahlan was startled to hear, after all Owen had said, that he had become one of the banished. She saw Jennsen's jaw fall open. Cara lifted an eyebrow.\n\nKahlan could see that Richard's hand on Owen's shoulder was an emotional lifeline for the man. He finally sat up, sniffling back the tears. He wiped his nose on his sleeve.\n\nHe looked up at Richard. \"Should I tell you the whole story? All of it?\"\n\n\"Yes. I'd like to hear it all, from the beginning.\"\n\nKahlan was struck at how much Richard reminded her, at that moment, of his grandfather, Zedd, and the way Zedd always wanted to hear the whole story.\n\n\"Well, I was happy among my people, with them all around me. They held me to their breast when I was young. I was always safe in their welcoming arms. While I knew of other children who became unruly and were putout as punishment, I never did anything to be putout. I hungered to learn to be like my people. They taught me the ways of enlightenment. Fora time I served my people as the Wise One.\n\n\"Later, my people were pleased with how enlightened I was, how I embraced them all, and so they made me the speaker of our town. I traveled to nearby towns to speak the words of what the people of my town all believed as one. I went to our great cities for the same reason. I was always happiest, though, when I was home with my closest people.\n\n\"I fell in love with a woman from my town. Her name is Marilee.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Owen stared off into his memories." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Richard didn't rush him, but waited patiently until he began again at his own pace.\n\n\"It was spring, a little more than two years ago, when we fell joyfully in love. Marilee and I spent time talking, holding hands, and, when we could, sitting together while among all the others. Among all the others, though, I only had eyes for Marilee. She only had eyes for me.\n\n\"When we were with others, it felt like we were alone in the world, Marilee and I, and the world belonged to us alone, that only we had the eyes to see all its hidden beauty. It is wrong to feel this way, to be so alone in our hearts is to be selfish and to think our eyes can see so clearly is sinful pride, but we could not help ourselves. The trees blossomed just for us. The water in the streams burbled their music just for us. The moon rose for us alone.\" Owen slowly shook his head. \"You could not understand how it was... how we felt.\"\n\n\"I understand quite well how it was,\" Richard assured him in a quiet voice.\n\nOwen glanced up at Richard; then his gaze moved to Kahlan. She nodded to him that it was so. His brow twitched with wonder. He looked away then, perhaps, Kahlan thought, in guilt.\n\n\"Well,\" Owen said, going back to his story, \"I was the speaker of our town-the one who speaks what all decide that must be decided as being true. I also sometimes helped other people resolve questions of what is right according to the tenets of an advanced culture.\" Owen flicked his hand in a self-conscious manner. \"As I said, I once served my people as the Wise One, so the people trusted me.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Richard just nodded, not interrupting, even though Kahlan knew that he didn't quite understand the meaning of many of the details of what Owen was saying anymore than she did. The gist of the story, though, was becoming all too clear.\n\n\"I asked Marilee if she would be my wife, if she would marry me and no other. She said that it was the happiest day of her life, to be asked by me, for I said I wanted no other but her. It was the happiest day of my life when she said she would have meas her husband.\n\n\"Everyone was very pleased. Everyone loved us both, and kept us sheltered in their arms fora longtime to show their joy. As we sat together with everyone, we all talked about the plans for the wedding and how much we would all be pleased that Marilee and I would be husband and wife and bring children among our people.\"\n\nOwen stared off in his thoughts. It seemed that he might have forgotten that he'd stopped speaking.\n\n\"So, was it a grand wedding?\" Richard finally prompted.\n\nOwen still stared off. \" The men of the Order came. That was when we first realized that the seal, that had protected our people since the beginning times, had failed. There was no longer a barrier protecting us.\n\n\"Our empire was now naked to savages.\"\n\nKahlan knew that what she had done had caused the boundary to fail, resulting in these people being defenseless. She had had no choice, but that didn't make it any easier to hear.\n\n\"They came to our town, where I was speaker. Our town, like others, has walls all around; those who gave us our name, Bandakar, proclaimed that towns should be built such as this. It was wise of them to tell us this. The walls protect us from the beasts of the forests, make us safe, without having to harm any creatures." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The men of the Order setup a camp outside our walls. There was really no place for them to stay in the town-we have no accommodations to house so many people because we never have great numbers of visitors from other towns. Worse, I was fearful of having such men as they looked sleeping under our roof with us. It was wrong to have such fear; it is my failing, not theirs, I know, but I had the fear.\n\n\"Since I was the speaker for my town, I went out to their camp with food and offerings. I was filled with my sinful failing of being afraid of them. They were big, some with long, dark, greasy, tangled hair, some with shaved heads, many with filthy beards of coarse hair-none of them with fair sun-golden hairlike our people. It was shocking to see them wearing hides of animals, leather plates, chains and metal, and straps with sharp studs. Hanging on their belts, they all carried vicious-looking implements the likes of which I had never in my life imagined, but which I later learned were weapons.\n\n\"I told these strange men that they were welcome to share what we had, that we would honor them. I told them that they were invited to sit with us, to share their words with us.\"\n\nEveryone waited in silence, not wanting to say a word as tears ran down Owen's face and dripped off his jaw.\n\n\"The men of the Order did not sit with us. They did not share their words with us. Though I spoke to them, they acted as if I were not worthy of their recognition, other than to grin at meas if they intended to eat me.\n\n\"I sought to allay their fears, since it is the fear of others that causes hostility. I assured the men that we were peaceful and intended them no ill will. I told them that we would do our best to accommodate them among us." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The man who was their speaker, a commander he called himself, spoke tome then. He told me that his name was Luchan. His shoulders were twice as wide as mine, even though he was no taller than me. This man, Luchan, said that he did not believe me. I was horrified to hear this. He said that he thought my people meant him harm. He accused us of wishing to kill his men. I was shaken that he would think such a thing of us, especially after I had told him of our open welcome to his men. I was shaken to know that I had done something to cause him to feel we were threatening to him and his men. I assured him of our desire to be peaceful with them.\n\n\"Luchan smiled at me then, not a smile of happiness, not a smile like I had ever seen before. He said that they were going to burn down our town and kill all the people in it to prevent us from attacking his men as they slept. I begged him to believe our peaceful ways, to sit with us and share his worries and we would do what we needed to do to dispel such doubts and show him our love of him for being our fellowman.\n\n\"Luchan said, then, that he would not burn down our town and kill us all upon a condition, as he called it. He said that if I would surrender my woman to him as a token of my sincerity and goodwill he would then believe our words. He said that if, on the other hand, I failed to send her out to him, what happened would be my fault, would be on my head, for not cooperating with them, for not showing my sincerity and goodwill toward them.\n\n\"I went back to hear the words of my people. Everyone agreed and said that I must do this-that I must send Marilee out to the men of the Order so that they would not burn down our town and murder everyone. I asked them not to decide so quickly, and offered the idea that we could close the gates in the wall to keep the men from coming in and harming us. My people said that men such as these would find away to break the wall, and then they would murder everyone for shutting our gates and shaming them with our bigotry toward them. The people all spoke up loudly that I must show the man Luchan goodwill and our peaceful intent, that I must allay his fears of us." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I never felt so alone among my people. I could not go against the word of everyone, for it is taught that only the voices of people joined together in one voice can be wise enough to know the true way. No one person can know what is right. Only consensus can make a thing right.\n\n\"My knees trembled as I stood before Marilee. I heard myself ask if she wished me to do as the men wanted-as our people wanted. I told her that I would runaway with her if she would wish it. She wept as she said that she would not hear such sinful talk from me, for it would mean the death of everyone else.\n\n\"She said that she must go to the men of the Order to appease them or there would be violence. She told me that she would tell them of our peaceful ways and thus gentle them toward us.\n\n\"I was proud of Marilee for upholding the highest values of our people. I wanted to die for being proud of such a thing as would take her from me.\n\n\"I kissed Marilee a last time, but I could not stop my tears. I held her in my arms and we wept together.\n\n\"Then, I took her out to the man who was their commander, Luchan. He had a thick black beard, a shaved head, and a ring through one ear and one nostril. He said that I had made a wise choice. His sundarkened arms were nearly as big around as Marilee's waist. His big filthy hand took Marilee by her arm and bore her away with him as he turned back and told me to'scurry back' to my town, to my people. His men laughed at meas they watched me go backup the road.\n\n\"The men of the Order left my town and my people alone. We had peace I had purchased with Marilee." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I had no peace in my heart.\n\n\"Fora time, the men of the Order were gone from our town. They returned, then, one afternoon, and called for me to come out. I asked Luchan about Marilee, if she was well, if she was happy. Luchan turned his head and spat, then said he didn't know, that he never asked her. I was worried, and asked if she spoke with him of our peaceful ways, assured him of our innocent intent toward him. He said that when he was with women he wasn't much interested in them for their talking.\n\n\"He winked at me. Though I had never seen anyone wink in such a fashion, I knew his meaning.\n\n\"I was very frightened for Marilee, but I reminded myself that nothing is real, that I could not really know anything from what I was hearing. I was only hearing what this one man said of things, as he saw them, and I knew that I was only sensing part of the world. I could not know reality from my eyes and ears alone.\n\n\"Luchan said, then, that I should open the town gates lest they think we were acting in a hostile way toward them. Luchan said that if we failed to do as he asked, it would begin a cycle of violence.\n\n\"I went back and spoke his words to all the people gathered around me. My people all spoke in one voice, and said that we must open the gates and invite them into prove that we held no hostility, no prejudice, toward the men.\n\n\"The men of the Order came in through those gates we let stand wide for them and seized nearly all the women, from those still the age of girls to grandmothers. I stood with the other men, begging them to leave our women be, to leave us be. I told them that we had agreed to their demands to prove to them that we meant them no harm, but it did no good. They would not listen." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I told Luchan, then, that I had sent Marilee to him as his condition for peace. I told him that they must honor their agreement. Luchan and his men laughed.\n\n\"I cannot say if what I saw then was real. Reality is in the realm of fate, and we, in this place we think we know as the world, cannot know it in full truth. That day, fate swept down on my people; we had no say in it. We know that we must not fight against fate, for it has already been foreordained by the true reality we cannot see.\n\n\"I watched as our women were dragged away. I watched, unable to do anything, as they screamed our names, as they reached out for us, as the hands of those big men held our women and bore them away from us. I had never heard such screams as I heard that day.\"\n\nThe overcast seemed as if it would soon brush the tops of the trees. In the thick silence, Kahlan heard a bird in the bristlecone pines singing. Owen was alone, off in his solitary world of terrible memories. Richard stood, arms folded, watching the man, but saying nothing.\n\n\"I went to other towns,\" Owen finally said. \" Ina couple of places, the Order had been there before me. The men of the Order did much the same to those towns as they had done to my town; they took the women. In some places they also took a few men.\n\n\"In other places I went, the Order had not come yet. As the speaker of my town, I told them of what had befallen my town and I urged others to do something. They were angry with me and said it was wrong to resist, that to resist was to give into violence, to become no better than the savages. They urged me to renounce my outspoken ways and to heed the wisdom of the joined voices of our people that had brought enlightenment and thousands of years of peace. They told me that I was only looking at events through my limited eyes, and not the better judgment of the group." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I went then to one of our important cities and told them again that the seal on the pass was broken and that the Imperial Order was upon us, and that something must be done. I urged them to listen tome and to consider what we could do to protect our people.\n\n\"Because I was so inconsiderately assertive, the assembly of speakers took me to the Wise One so that I might have his counsel. It is a great honor to have the words of the Wise One. The Wise One told me that I must forgive those who had done these things against my people, if we were to end the violence.\n\n\"The Wise One said that the anger and hostility shown by the men of the Order was a mark of their inner pain, a cry for help, and they must be shown compassion and understanding. I should have been humbled by such clear wisdom as could only come from the Wise One, but instead I spoke out of my wish for Marilee and all the other people to be returned from such men, and for the speakers to help me in this.\n\n\"The Wise One said that Marilee would find her own happiness without me and that I was guilty of selfishness for wanting to keep her for myself. He said that fate had come for the other people and it was not my place to make demands of fate.\n\n\"I asserted to the speakers and the Wise One that the men of the Order had not upheld the agreement made by Luchan for Marilee to be sent to them. The Wise One said that Marilee had acted properly by going in peace to the men so that the cycle of violence would end. He said that it was selfish and sinful for me to put my wants above peace she selflessly worked toward and that my attitude toward them was probably what had provoked the men to anger.\n\n\"I asked what I was to do, when I had acted honestly but they had not. The Wise One said that I was wrong to condemn men I did not know, men I had not first forgiven, or tried to embrace, or even to understand. He said that I must encourage them in the ways of peace by throwing myself before them and begging them to forgive me for acting in away that kindled their inner pain by reminding them of past wrongs done to them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I told the Wise One, then, in front of all the other speakers, that I did not want to forgive these men or to embrace these men, but that I wanted to cast them out of our lives.\n\n\"I was given a denunciation.\"\n\nRichard handed Owen a cup of water but said nothing. Owen sipped at the water without seeing it.\n\n\"The gathering of speakers commanded me to go back to my town and seek the advice of those among whom I lived, commanding that I ask my people to counsel me back to our ways. I went back intending to redeem myself, only to discover that it had become worse than before.\n\n\"Now, the Order had returned to take whatever they wanted from the town-food and goods. We would have given them whatever they wanted, but they never asked, they just took. More of our men had been taken away, too-some of the boys and some of those who were young and strong. Other men, who had in someway offended the dignity of the men of the Order, had been murdered.\n\n\"People I knew stood staring with empty eyes at blood where our friends had died. In other such places, people gathered to mound remembrances over the blood. These places had become sacred shrines and people knelt thereto pray. The children would not stop crying. No one would counsel me.\n\n\"Everyone in my town trembled behind doors, but they cast their eyes down and opened those doors when the men of the Order knocked, lest we offend them.\n\n\"I could not stand to be in our town any longer. Iran to the country, even though I was terrified that I would be alone. There, in the hills, I found other men, selfish as I, hiding in fear for their lives. Together, we decided to try to do something, to try to bring an end to the misery. We resolved to restore peace." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"At first, we sent representatives to speak with the men of the Order, to let them know that we meant them no harm, and that we only sought peace with them, and to ask what we could do to satisfy them. The men of the Order hung these men by their ankles from poles at the edge of our town and skinned them alive.\n\n\"I knew these men all my life, these men who had counseled me, advised me, broken fasts with me, sheltered me in their arms with joy when I had told them Marilee and I wanted to be wed. The men of the Order left these poor men to hang by their ankles as they screamed in agony in the hot summer sun, where the black-tipped races came and found them.\n\n\"I reminded myself that what I saw that day was not real, and that I should not believe such sights, that possibly my eyes were deceiving meas punishment for having improper thoughts, and that my mind could not possibly know if this sight was real or an illusion.\n\n\"Not every man that had gone to speak with the men of the Order was killed. A few of our men were sent back to us with word from the Order. They said that if we did not comedown out of the hills and return to their rule in our town, to show that we did not intend to attack them, then they would begin skinning a dozen people a day, and hanging them on poles for the races, until either we returned to demonstrate our peaceful intent, or until every last person left in the town was skinned alive.\n\n\"Many of our men wept, unable to stand to think that they would be the cause of a cycle of violence, so they went back to the town to show that they intended no harm.\n\n\"Not all of us went back. A few of us remained in the hills. Since most returned, and the Order had no count of us, they thought all had complied with their command." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Those few of us who were left in the hills hid, living off the nuts, fruits, and berries we could find or the food we snuck back and stole." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "We slowly gathered together supplies to see us through. I told the other men with me that we should find out what the Order was doing with our people they had taken away. Since the men of the Order didn't know us, we could sometimes mingle in with people working the fields or tending to animals and sneak back into our town without the Order knowing who we were-without knowing that we were men from the hills. Over the next months, we followed and watched the men of the Order.\n\n\"The children had been sent away, but the men of the Order had taken all the women to a place they built-an encampment, they called it-that they fortified against attack.\"\n\nOwen put his face in his hands again as he spoke through sobs. \" They were using our women as breeding stock. They sought to have them bear children-as many children as they could birth-children of their soldiers. Some women were already pregnant. Most of those who weren't already pregnant became pregnant. Over the next year and a half, many children were born. They were nursed fora time, and then they were all sent away as their mothers were gotten pregnant again.\n\n\"I don't know where these children were taken-somewhere beyond our empire. The men who had been taken from the towns were also taken away beyond our empire.\n\n\"The men of the Order did not watch their captives well, since our people shunned violence, so a couple of men escaped and ran to the hills, where they found us. They told us that the Order had taken them to seethe women, and told them that if they did not do as they were told, if they did not follow all the orders they were given, then all these women before them would die-that they would be skinned alive. These men who escaped did not know where they were to betaken, or what it was they were to do, only that if they did not follow the instructions given them, then they would be the cause of the violence to our women." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"After a year and a half of hiding, of meeting with others, we learned that the Order had spread to other places in our empire, taken other towns and cities." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Wise One and the speakers went into hiding. We discovered that some towns and cities had invited the Order to come in, to be among them, in an attempt to appease them and keep them from doing harm.\n\n\"No matter how hard our people tried, their concessions failed to placate the belligerence of the men of the Order. We could not understand why this was true.\n\n\"In some of the largest cities, though, it was different. The people there had listened to the speakers of the Order and had come to believe that the cause of the Imperial Order was the same as our cause-to bring an end to abuse and injustice. The Order convinced these people that they abhorred violence, that they had been enlightened as were our people, but they had to turn to violence to defeat those who would oppress us all. They said that they were champions of our people's cause of enlightenment. The people there rejoiced that they were at last in the hands of saviors who would spread our words of enlightenment to the savages who did not yet live by peace.\"\n\nRichard, a thunderstorm building, could hold his tongue no longer. \"And even after all the brutality, these people believed the words of the Imperial Order?\"\n\nOwen spread his hands. \" The people in those places were swayed by the words of the Order-that they were fighting for the same ideals as we lived by. They told our people in those cities that they had only acted as they did because my town and some of the other places like it had sided with the savages from the north-with the D'Haran Empire.\n\n\"I had heard this name before-the D'Haran Empire. During the year and a half that I lived in the hills with the other men, I sometimes traveled out of our land, out into the surrounding places, to see what I could discover that might help us to cast the Imperial Order out of Bandakar. While I was out of my land, I went to some of the cities in the Old World, as I learned it was called. In one place, Altur'Rang, I heard whispers of a great man from the north, from the D'Haran Empire, who brought freedom." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Other of my men also went out to other places. When we returned, we all told each other what we had seen, what we had heard. All those who came back told of the same thing, told of hearing of one called Lord Rahl, and his wife, the Mother Confessor, who fought the Imperial Order.\n\n\"Then, we learned where the Wise One was being kept safe, as were most of our greatest speakers. It was in our greatest city, a place where the Order had not yet come. The Order was busy with other places and so they were in no hurry. My people were going nowhere-they had nowhere to go.\n\n\"The men who were with me wanted me to be their speaker, to go to talk with these great speakers, to convince them that we must do something to stop the Imperial Order and cast them out of Bandakar.\n\n\"I journeyed to the great city, a place I had never been before, and I was inspired at seeing a place that such a great culture as ours had built. A culture about to be destroyed, if I could not convince these great speakers and the Wise One to think of something to do to stop the Order.\n\n\"I spoke before them with great urgency. I told them of all the Order had done. I told them of the men I had in hiding, waiting for word of what they were to do.\n\n\"The great speakers said that I cannot know the true nature of the Order from what I and a few men had seen-that the Imperial Order was avast nation and we saw only a tiny speck of their people. They said that men cannot do such cruel acts as I described because it would cause them to shrink back in horror before they could complete them. To prove it, they suggested that I try to skin one of them. I admitted that I could not, but I told them that I had seen the men of the Order do this." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"The speakers scorned my insistence that it was real." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They said I must always keep in mind that reality is not for us to know. They said that the men of the Imperial Order were probably frightened that we might be a violent people, and simply wanted to test our resolve by tricking us into believing that the things I described were real so that they could see how we reacted-if peace was really our way, or if we would attack them.\n\n\"The great speakers said, then, that I could not know if I really saw all the things I said, and that even if I did, I could not judge if they were for the bad, or the good-that I was not the person to judge the reasons of men I did not know, that to do so would be to believe that I was above them, and to put myself above them would bean act of prejudiced hostility.\n\n\"I could only think of all the things I had seen, of the men with me who all agreed that we must convince the great speakers to act to preserve our empire. I could only see in my mind the face of Luchan. And then, I thought of Marilee in the hands of this man. I thought of the sacrifice she had made, and how her life was castaway into this horror for nothing.\n\n\"I stood up before the great speakers and screamed that they were evil.\"\n\nCara snorted a laugh. \"Seems you can tell what's real, when you put your mind to it.\"\n\nRichard shot her a withering glare.\n\nOwen glanced up and blinked. His thoughts had been so distant as he told his story that he hadn't really heard her. He looked up at Richard.\n\n\"That was when they banished me,\" he said.\n\n\"But the boundary seal had failed,\" Richard said. \"You had already come and gone through the pass. How could they enforce a banishment with the boundary down?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Owen waved dismissively. \" They do not need the wall of death. Banishment is in away a sentence of death-the death of the personas a citizen of Bandakar. My name would be known throughout the empire, at least what was left of it, and every person would shun me. I would be turned away from every door. I was one of the banished. No one would want to have any contact with me. I was now an outcast. It does not matter that they could not put me beyond the barrier; they put me beyond my people. That was worse.\n\n\"I went back to my men in the hills to collect my things and confess to them that I had been banished. I was going to go out beyond our homeland, as I had been commanded by the will of our people through our great speakers.\n\n\"But my men, those in the hills, they would not see me go. They said that the banishment was wrong. These men had seen the things I had seen. They had wives, mothers, daughters, sisters who had been taken away. They all had seen their friends murdered, seen the men skinned alive and left to suffer in agony as they died, seen the races come to circle over them as they hung on those poles. They said that since all our eyes had seen these things, then these things must be true, must be real.\n\n\"They all said that we had gone into the hills because we love our land and want to restore the peace we once had. They said that the great speakers were the ones whose eyes did not see and they were condemning our people to murder at the hands of savage men and those of our people who lived to a cruel life under the rule of the Imperial Order, to be used as breeding stock or as slaves.\n\n\"I was shocked that these men would not reject me for being banished-that they wanted me to stay with them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It was then that we decided that we would be the ones to do something, to come up with the plan we always wanted the speakers to decide. When I asked what would be our plan, everyone said the same thing.\n\n\"They all said that we must get Lord Rahl to come and give us freedom. They all spoke with one voice.\n\n\"We decided, then, what we would do. Some men said that one such as the Lord Rahl would come to cast out the Order when we asked.\n\nOthers thought you might not be willing, since you are unenlightened and not of our ways, not of our people. When we considered that possibility, we decided that we must have away to insure you would have to come, should you refuse us.\n\n\"Since I was banished, I said that it was upon me to do this thing. Except to live in the hills with my men, I could have no life among our people unless we cast out the Imperial Order and our ways were restored to us. I told the men that I did not know where I could find the Lord Rahl, but that I would not give up until I did so.\n\n\"First, though, one of the men, an older man who had spent his life working with herbs and cures, made me the poison I put into your waterskin. He made me the antidote as well. He told me how the poison worked, and how it could be counteracted, since none of us wished to consider that it would come to murder, even of an unenlightened man.\"\n\nBy the sidelong look Richard gave her, Kahlan knew that he wanted her to hold her tongue, and knew that she was having difficulty doing so. She redoubled her effort.\n\n\"I was worried about how I would find you,\" Owen said to Richard, \" but I knew I had to. Before I could go in search of you, though, I had to hide the rest of the antidote, as was our plan." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"While in a city where the Order had won the people to their side, I heard some people at a market say that it was a great honor that the very man who had come to their city was the most important man among all those of the Imperial Order in Bandakar. The thought struck me that this man might know something of the man the Order hated most-Lord Rahl.\n\n\"I stayed in the city for several days, watching the place where this man was said to be. I watched the soldiers come and go. I saw that they sometimes took people in with them, and then later the people came back out.\n\n\"One day I saw people comeback out and they did not appear to be harmed, so I made my way close to them to hear what they might say. I heard them talk that they had seen the great man himself. I could not hear much of what they said of their visit inside, but none said that they were hurt.\n\n\"And then I saw the soldiers come out, and I suspected that they might be going to get more people to take them into see this great man, so I went before them into a central gathering square. I waited, then, near the open isles between the public benches. The soldiers rushed in and gathered up a small crowd of people and I was swept up with the others.\n\n\"I was terrified of what would happen tome, but I thought this might be my only chance to go in the building with this important man, my only chance to see what he looked like, to seethe place where he was so I could know whereto sneak back and listen, as I had learned to do when living in the hills with my men. I had resolved to do this to see if I could learn any information on Lord Rahl. Still, I was trembling with worry when they took us all into the building and down halls and upstairs to the top floor." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I feared that I was being led to the slaughter and wanted to run, but I thought, then, of my men back in the hills, depending on me to find the Lord Rahl and get him to come to Bandakar and give us freedom.\n\n\"We were taken through a heavy door into a dim room that filled me with fear because it stank of blood. The windows on two walls of the stark room were closed off by shutters. I saw that across the room there was a table with abroad bowl and, nearby, a row of fat, sharpened wooden stakes standing nearly as tall as my chest. They were stained dark with blood and gore.\n\n\"Two women and a man with us fainted. Out of anger, the soldiers kicked them in the heads. When the people did not rise, the soldiers dragged them away by their arms. I saw blood trails smear along the floor behind them. I didn't want to have my head caved in by the boot of one of these gruesome men, so I resolved not to faint.\n\n\"A man swept into the room, suddenly, like a chill wind. I had not ever been afraid of any man, even Luchan, like I was afraid of this man. He was dressed in layer upon layer of cloth strips that flowed out behind as he moved. His jet black hair was sweptback and smoothed with oils that made it glisten. His nose seemed to stick out even more than it would have, had he not slicked back his hair. His small black eyes were rimmed in red. When those beady eyes fixed on me, I had to remind myself that I had vowed not to faint.\n\n\"He peered at each person in turn as he slowly walked past us, as if he were picking out a turnip for dinner. It was then, as his knobby fingers came out from his odd clothes to point in a waving manner atone person and then another until he had pointed out five people, that I saw that his fingernails were all painted as black as his hair." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"His hand waved, dismissing the rest of us. The soldiers moved between the five people this man had pointed out and the rest of us. They started pushing us toward the door, but just then, before we could be ushered out, a commander with a nose that had been flattened to the side, as if from being broken repeatedly, came in and said that the messenger had arrived. The man with the black hair ran his black nails back through his black hair and told the commander to tell the messenger to wait, that by morning he would have the latest information.\n\n\"I was then led out and down the stairs along with the rest of the people. We were taken outside and told to go away, that our services wouldn't be needed. The soldiers laughed when they said this. I left with the others, so as not to make the men angry. The people all whispered about having seen the great man himself. I could think only of what the latest information might be.\n\n\"Later, after dark, I sneaked back, and in the rear of the building I discovered, behind agate through a high wooden fence, a narrow alleyway. In the dark, I entered the alley and hid myself inside a doorway entrance to the back hall of the building. There were passageways beyond, and, in the candlelight, I recognized one passage as the place I had been earlier.\n\n\"It was late and there was no one in the halls. I moved deeper into the passageways. Rooms and recesses lined each side of the hall, but with the late hour no one came out. I sneaked up the stairs and crept to the big thick door to the room where I had been taken.\n\n\"It was there, in that dark hall before the big door, that I heard the most horrifying cries I have ever heard. People were begging and weeping for their lives, crying for mercy. One woman pleaded endlessly to be put to death to end her suffering." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I thought I would vomit, or faint, but one thought kept me still and hidden, kept me from running as fast as my legs would carry me. That was the thought that this was the fate of all my people if I did not help them by bringing Lord Rahl.\n\n\"I stayed there all night, in a dark recess in a hall across from the big door, listening to those poor people in unimaginable agony. I don't know what the man was doing to them, but I thought I would die of sorrow for their slow suffering. The whole of the night, the moans of agony never ceased.\n\n\"I shivered in my hiding place, weeping, and told myself that it wasn't real, that I shouldn't be afraid of what was not real. I imagined the people's pain, but told myself that I was putting my imagination on top of my senses-the very thing I had been taught was wrong. I put my thoughts to Marilee, the times we had been together, and ignored the sounds that were not real. I could not know what was real, what these sounds really were.\n\n\"Early in the morning the commander I had seen before returned. I peeked carefully out from my dark hiding place. The man with the black hair came to the door. I knew it was him because when his arm came out of the room to hand the man a scrolled paper, I saw his black fingernails.\n\n\"The man with the black hair said to the commander with the flattened, crooked nose, he called him \"Najari,\" that he had found them. That's what he said-\"them. \"Then he said,\"They've made it to the east edge of the wasteland and are now heading north.\" He told the man to give the messenger the orders right away. Najari said, \"Shouldn't belong, then, Nicholas, and you will have them and we'll have the power to name our price.\"\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Richard spun around. \"Nicholas? You heard him say that name?\"\n\nOwen blinked in surprise. \"Yes. I'm sure of it. He said Nicholas.\"\n\nKahlan felt a weary hopelessness settle over her, like the cold, wet mist.\n\nRichard gestured urgently. \"Goon.\"\n\n\"Well, I wasn't sure that they were talking about you-about the Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor-when the commander said'them, ' but by the grim excitement in their voices I had the impression that it was so. Their voices reminded me of the first time the Order came, at the way Luchan smiled at me in away I had never seen before, like he might eat me.\n\n\"I thought that this information was my best chance to find you. So I started out at once.\"\n\nBorne on alight gust, drizzle replaced the morning mist. Kahlan realized that she was shivering with the cold.\n\nRichard pointed at the man sitting on the ground not faraway, the man with the notch in his right ear, the man Kahlan had touched. Some of the storm within Richard boiled to the surface.\n\n\"There is the man the orders from Nicholas were sent to. He brought with him those men you saw at our last camp. Had we not defended ourselves, had we put our own sincere hatred of violence above the nature of reality, we would be as lost as Marilee.\"\n\nOwen stared at the man. \"What is his name?\"\n\n\"I don't know and it doesn't matter tome in the least. He fought for the Imperial Order-fought to uphold a view of all life, including his, as unimportant, interchangeable, expendable in the mindless pursuit of an ideal that holds individual lives as worthless in themselves-a tenet that demands sacrifice to others until you are nothing." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"He fights for the dream of everybody to be nobody and nothing.\n\n\"The beliefs of the Order hold that you had no right to love Marilee, that everyone is the same and so your duty should be to marry someone who could best use your help. In that way, through selfless sacrifice, you would properly serve your fellowman. Despite how you struggle not to see what's before your eyes, Owen, I think somewhere beneath all your regurgitated teachings, you know that that is the greatest horror brought by the Order-not their brutality, but their ideas. It is their beliefs that sanction brutality, and yours that invite it.\n\n\"He didn't value his own life, who he was; why should I care what his name was. I give him what was his greatest ambition: nothingness.\"\n\nWhen Richard saw Kahlan shivering in the cold drizzle, he withdrew his hot glare from Owen and retrieved her cloak from her pack in the wagon. With the utmost gentleness and care, he wrapped it around her shoulders. By the look on his face, he seemed to have had all he could take of listening to Owen.\n\nKahlan seized his hand, holding it to her cheek fora moment. There was some small good in the story they had heard from Owen.\n\n\"This means that the gift isn't killing you, Richard,\" she said in a confidential tone. \"It was the poison.\"\n\nShe was relieved that they hadn't run out of time to get him help, as she had so feared on that brief, eternal wagon ride when he'd been unconscious.\n\n\"I had the headaches before Iran into Owen. I still have the headaches. The sword's magic as well faltered before I was poisoned.\"\n\n\"But at least this now gives us more time to find the solutions to those problems.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He ran his fingers back through his hair. \"I'm afraid we have worse problems, now, and not the time you think.\"\n\n\"Worse problems?\"\n\nRichard nodded. \"You know the empire Owen comes from? Bandakar? Guess what \"Bandakar\" means.\"\n\nKahlan glanced at Owen sitting hunched on the crate and all by himself. She shook her head as her gaze returned to Richard's gray eyes, troubled more by the suppressed rage in his voice than anything else.\n\n\"I don't know, what?\"\n\n\"In High D'Haran it's a name. It means \"the banished.\" Remember from the book, The Pillars of Creation, when I was telling you what it said about how they decided to send all the pristinely ungifted people away to the Old World-to banish them? Remember that I said no one ever knew what became of them?\n\n\"We just found out.\n\n\"The world is now naked before the people of the Bandakaran Empire.\"\n\nKahlan frowned. \"How can you know for certain that he is a descendant of those people?\"\n\n\"Look at him. He's blond and looks more like full-blooded D'Harans than he does the people down herein the Old World. More importantly, though, he's not affected by magic.\"\n\n\"But that could be just him.\"\n\nRichard leaned in closer. \" Ina closed place like he comes from, a place shutoff from the rest of the world for thousands of years, even one pillar of Creation would have spread that ungifted trait throughout the entire population by now.\n\n\"But there wasn't just one; they were all ungifted. For that, they were banished to the Old World, and in the Old World, where they tried to establish anew life, they were again all collected and banished to that place beyond those mountains-a place they were told was for the bandakar, the banished.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"How did the people in the Old World find out about them?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "How did they keep them all together, without a single one surviving to spread their ungifted trait to the general population, and how did they manage to then put them all in that place-banish them?\"\n\n\"Good questions, all, but right now not the important ones.\n\n\"Owen,\" Richard called as he turned back to the others, \"I want you to stay right there, please, while the rest of us decide what will be our single voice about what we must do.\"\n\nOwen brightened at a method of doing things with which he identified and felt comfortable. He didn't seem to detect, as did Kahlan, the undercurrent of sarcasm in Richard's voice.\n\n\"You,\" Richard said to the man Kahlan had touched, \"go sit beside him and see that he waits therewith you.\"\n\nWhile the man scurried to do as he was told, Richard tilted his head in gesture to the rest of them, calling them away with him. \"We need to talk.\"\n\nFriedrich, Tom, Jennsen, Cara, and Kahlan followed Richard away from Owen and the man. Richard leaned back against the chafing rail of the wagon and folded his arms as they all gathered close around him. He took time to appraise each face looking at him.\n\n\"We have big problems,\" Richard began, \"and not just from the poison Owen gave me. Owen isn't gifted. He's like you, Jennsen. Magic doesn't touch him.\" His gaze remained locked on Jennsen's. \"The rest of his people are the same as he, as you.\"\n\nJennsen's jaw fell open in astonishment. She looked confused, as if unable to reconcile it all in her mind. Friedrich and Tom looked nearly as startled. Cara's brow drew down in a dark frown." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Richard,\" Jennsen finally said, \"that just can't be." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There's too many of them. There's noway that they can all behalf brothers and sisters of ours.\"\n\n\"They aren't half brothers and sisters,\" Richard said. \"They're a line of people descended from the House of Rahl-people like you. I don't have time right now to explain all of it to you, but remember how I told you that you would bear children who were like you, and they would pass that pristinely ungifted trait onto all future generations? Well, back along time ago, there were people like that spreading in D'Hara. The people back then gathered up all these ungifted people and sent them to the Old World. The people down here then sealed them away beyond those mountains, there. The name of their empire, Bandakar, means \"the banished.\"\"\n\nJennsen's big blue eyes filled with tears. She was one of those people, people so hated that they had been banished from the rest of the people in their own land and sent into exile.\n\nKahlan put an arm around her shoulders. \"Remember how you said that you felt alone in the world?\" Kahlan smiled warmly. \"You don't have to feel alone anymore. There are people like you.\"\n\nKahlan didn't think her words seemed to help much, but Jennsen welcomed the comfort of the embrace.\n\nJennsen abruptly looked backup at Richard. \"That can't be true. They had a boundary that kept them locked in that place. If they were like me they wouldn't be affected by a boundary of magic. They could have come out of there anytime they wished. Overall this time, at least some of them would have come out into the rest of the world-the magic of the boundary couldn't have held them back.\"\n\n\"I don't think that's true,\" Richard said. \"Remember when you saw the sand flowing sideways in that warning beacon that Sabar brought us? That was magic, and you saw it.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"That's right,\" Kahlan said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"If she's a pillar of Creation, then how is such a thing possible?\"\n\n\"That's right,\" Jennsen agreed. \"How could that be, if I'm truly ungifted?\" Her eyebrows went up. \"Richard-maybe it's not true after all. Maybe I have a bit of the spark of the gift-maybe I'm not really, truly ungifted.\"\n\nRichard smiled. \" Jennsen, you're as pure as a snowflake. You saw that magic fora reason. Nicci wrote us in her letter that the warning beacon was linked to the wizard who created it-linked to him in the underworld. The underworld is the world of the dead. That means that the statue functioned partly through Subtractive Magic-magic having to do with the underworld. You maybe immune to magic, but you are not immune to death. Gifted or not, you're still linked to life, and thus death.\n\n\"That's why you saw some of the magic of the statue-the part relating to the advancement of death.\n\n\"The boundary was a place in this world where death itself existed. Togo into that boundary was to enter the world of the dead. No one returns from the dead. If any pristinely ungifted person in Bandakar had gone into the boundary, they would have died. That was how they were sealed in.\"\n\n\"But they could banish people through the boundary,\" Jennsen pressed. \"That would have to mean that the boundary didn't really affect them.\"\n\nRichard was shaking his head even as she was protesting. \"No. They were touched by death, the same as anyone. But there was away left through the boundary-much like the one that once divided the three lands of the New World. I got through that boundary without being touched by it. There was a pass through it, a special, hidden place to get through the boundary. This one was the same.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jennsen wrinkled her nose. \"That makes no sense, then. If that was true, and it wasn't hidden from them-since they all knew of this passage through the boundary-then why couldn't they all just leave if they wanted to? How could it seal the rest of them in, if they could send banished people through?\"\n\nRichard sighed, wiping a hand across his face. It looked to Kahlan like he wished she hadn't asked that question.\n\n\"You know the area we passed awhile back?\" Richard asked her. \"That place where nothing grew?\"\n\nJennsen nodded. \"I remember.\"\n\n\"Well, Sabar said he came through another one, a little to the north of here.\"\n\n\"That's right,\" Kahlan said. \"And it ran toward the center of the wasteland, toward the Pillars of Creation-just like the one we saw. They had to be roughly parallel.\"\n\nRichard was nodding to what she was beginning to suspect. \"And they were to either side of the notch into Bandakar. They weren't very far apart. We're in that place right now, between those two boundaries.\"\n\nFriedrich leaned in. \"But Lord Rahl, that would mean that if someone was banished from the Bandakaran Empire, when they emerged from that boundary they would find themselves trapped between the walls of these two boundaries out here, and there wasn't much room between them. A person would have nowhere to go but...\"\n\nFriedrich covered his mouth as he turned west, looking off into the gloom.\n\n\"The Pillars of Creation,\" Richard finished with quiet finality.\n\n\"But, but,\" Jennsen stammered, \"are you saying that someone made it that way? Made these two boundaries deliberately to force anyone who was sent out of the Bandakaran Empire to go into that place-the Pillars of Creation? Why?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Richard looked into her eyes fora long moment. \"To kill them.\"\n\nJennsen swallowed. \"You mean, whoever banished these people wanted anyone they in turn sent out, anyone they exiled, to die?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Richard said.\n\nKahlan pulled her cloak tighter around herself. It had been hot for so long she could hardly believe that the weather had so suddenly turned cold.\n\nRichard swiped a lock of wet hair back off his forehead as he went on. \"From what Adie told me once, boundaries have to have a pass to create balance on both sides, to equalize the life on both sides. I suspect that those down herein the Old World who banished these people wanted to give them away to get rid of criminals and so told the people about the existence of the pass. But they didn't want such people to be loosed on the rest of the world. Criminals or not, they were ungifted. They couldn't be allowed to run free.\"\n\nKahlan immediately saw the problem with his theory. \"But all three boundaries would have had to have a pass,\" she said. \"Even if the other two passes, in the remaining two boundaries, were secret, that still left the possibility that anyone exiled and sent through the notch might find one of them and so not try to escape through the Pillars of Creation where they would die. That left the chance that they might still escape into the Old World.\"\n\n\"If there really were three boundaries, such might be the case,\" Richard said. \"But I don't think there were three. I think there really was only one.\"\n\n\"Now you're not making any sense,\" Cara complained. \"You said there was the one going north and south blocking the pass, and then there were these two parallel ones out here, going east and west, to funnel anyone who came out of the empire through that first boundary, toward the Pillars of Creation where they would die.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kahlan had to agree. It seemed that there might be a chance for someone to escape through one of the other two.\n\n\"I don't think there were three boundaries,\" Richard repeated. \"I think there was only one. That one boundary wasn't straight-it was bent in half.\" He held two fingers up, side by side. \"The bottom of the bend went across the pass.\" He pointed at the web between the two fingers. \"The two legs extended out here, parallel, going off to where they ended at the Pillars.\"\n\nJennsen could only ask'Why?\"\n\n\"It seems tome, by how elaborate the whole design was, that the ones who sealed those people in wanted to give them away to rid themselves of dangerous people, possibly knowing from what they had learned of their beliefs that they would balk at executing anyone. When these people were banished hereto the Old World, they may have already had at least the core of the same beliefs they hold now. Those beliefs leave them completely vulnerable to those who are evil. Protecting their way of life, without executing criminals, meant they had to cast such people out of their community or be destroyed by them.\n\n\"The banishment away from D'Hara and the New World, across the barrier into the Old World, must have terrified them. They stuck together as a means of survival, a common bond.\n\n\"Those down herein the Old World who put them behind that boundary must have used those people's fear of persecution to convince them that the boundary was meant to protect them, to keep others from harming them. They must have convinced those people that, since they were special, they needed such protection. That, along with their well-established need to stick together, had to have reinforced in them a terrible fear of being putout of their protected place. Banishment had a special terror to those people." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They must have felt the anguish of being rejected by the rest of the peoples of the world because they were ungifted, but, together as they were, they also felt safe behind the boundary.\n\n\"Now that the seal is off, we have big problems.\"\n\nJennsen folded her arms. \"Now that there's more than one of us-more than one snowflake-you're having worries about a snowstorm?\"\n\nRichard fixed her with a reproachful look. \"Why do you think the Order came in and took some of their people?\"\n\n\"Apparently,\" Jennsen said, \"to breed more children like them. To breed precious magic out of the race of man.\"\n\nRichard ignored the heat in her words. \"No, I mean why would they take men?\"\n\n\"Same reason,\" Jennsen said. \"To mate with regular women and give them ungifted children.\"\n\nRichard drew in a patient breath and let it out slowly. \"What did Owen say? The men were taken to seethe women and told that if they didn't follow orders those women would be skinned alive.\"\n\nJennsen hesitated. \"What orders?\"\n\nRichard leaned toward her. \"What orders, indeed. Think about it,\" he said, looking around at the rest of them. \"What orders? What would they want ungifted men for? What is it they would want ungifted men to do?\"\n\nKahlan gasped. \"The Keep!\"\n\n\"Exactly.\" Richard's unsettling gaze met each of them in turn. \" Like I said, we have big problems. Zedd is protecting the Keep. With his ability and the magic of that place he can no doubt single-handedly hold off Jagang's entire army.\n\n\"But how is that skinny old man going to resist even one young ungifted man who is untouched by magic and comes up and grabs him by the throat?\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Take on the role of the writer's aide and proceed with the narrative.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, imperialism\nAuthor: Terry Goodkind\nTitle: Naked Empire\nChapter: 40" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As the men following Tom emerged from the trees below and into the open, Richard was dismayed to see that their numbers were far less than Owen said had been hiding with him in the hills. Rubbing the furrows on his brow with his fingertips, Richard stepped backup to the short plateau where Kahlan waited.\n\nHer own brow drew down with concern. \"What's wrong?\"\n\n\"I doubt they brought fifty men.\"\n\nKahlan took up his hand again, her voice coming in gentle assurance. \"That's fifty more than we had.\"\n\nCara came up behind them, dropping her load off to the side. She took up station behind Richard to his left, on the opposite side from Kahlan. Richard met her grim gaze. He wondered how the woman always managed to look as if she fully expected everything to happen just as she wished it to happen, and that was the end of it.\n\nTom stepped up over the edge of the rock, the men following. He was sweating from the exertion of the climb, but a tight smile warmed his face when he saw Jennsen just coming up the other side of the rise. She returned the brief smile and then stood in the shadows beside the base of the statue, back out of the way.\n\nWhen the unkempt band of men caught sight of Richard in his black pants and boots, black tunic trimmed in a band of gold around the edge, the broad leather belt, the leather-padded silver wristbands with ancient symbols circling them, and the gleaming silver-and-gold-wrought scabbard, they seemed to lose their courage. When they saw Kahlan standing beside him, they cowered back toward the edge, bowing hesitantly, not knowing what they were supposed to do.\n\n\"Come on, then,\" Tom told them, prompting them all to come up onto the expanse of flat rock in front of Richard and Kahlan." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Owen whispered to the men as he moved among them, urging them to come forward as Tom was gesturing. They complied timidly, shuffling in a little closer, but still leaving a wide safety margin between themselves and Richard.\n\nAs the men all gazed about, unsure as to what they were supposed to do next, Cara stepped forward and held an arm out toward Richard.\n\n\"I present Lord Rahl,\" she said in a clear tone that rang out over the men gathered at the top of the pass, \"the Seeker of Truth and wielder of the Sword of Truth, the bringer of death, the Master of the D'Haran Empire, and husband to the Mother Confessor herself.\"\n\nIf the men had looked timid and unsure before, Cara's introduction made them all the more so. When they looked from Richard and Kahlan back to Cara's penetrating blue eyes, seeing her waiting, they all went to a knee in a bow before Richard.\n\nWhen Cara stepped deliberately to the fore, in front of the men, turned, and went to her knees, Tom got the message and did the same. Both bent forward and touched their foreheads to the ground.\n\nIn the silent, late-morning air, the men waited, still unsure what it was they were to do.\n\n\"Master Rahl, guide us,\" Cara said in a clear voice so the men could all hear her. She waited.\n\nTom looked back over his shoulder at all the blond-headed men watching. When Tom frowned with displeasure, the men understood that they were expected to follow the lead. They all finally went to both knees and bowed forward, imitating Tom and Cara, until their foreheads touched the cold granite.\n\n\"Master Rahl, guide us,\" Cara began again, never lifting her forehead from the ground." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This time, led by Tom, the men all repeated the words after her.\n\n\"Master Rahl, guide us,\" they said with a decided lack of unity.\n\n\"Master Rahl, teach us,\" Cara said when they all had finished the beginning of the oath. They followed her lead again, but still hesitantly and without much coordination.\n\n\"Master Rahl, protect us,\" Cara said.\n\nThe men repeated the words, their voices coming a little more in union.\n\n\"In your light we thrive.\"\n\nThe men mumbled the words after her.\n\n\"In your mercy we are sheltered.\"\n\nThey repeated the line.\n\n\"In your wisdom we are humbled.\"\n\nAgain they spoke the words after her.\n\n\"We live only to serve.\"\n\nWhen they finished repeating the words, she spoke the last line in a clear voice: \"Our lives are yours.\"\n\nCara rose upon her knees when they finished and glared back at the men all still bowed forward but peeking up at her. \"Those are the words of the devotion to the Lord Rahl. You will now speak it together with me three times, as is proper in the field.\"\n\nCara again put her forehead to the ground at Richard's feet.\n\n\"Master Rahl, guide us. Master Rahl, teach us. Master Rahl, protect us. In your light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives are yours.\"\n\nRichard and Kahlan stood above the people as they spoke the second and third devotion. This was no empty show put on by Cara for the benefit of the men; this was the devotion as it had been spoken for thousands of years and Cara meant every word of it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You may rise now,\" she told the men.\n\nThe men cautiously returned to their feet, hunched in worry, waiting silently. Richard met all their eyes before he began.\n\n\"I am Richard Rahl. I am the man you men decided to poison so as to enslave me and thus force me to do your bidding.\n\n\"What you have done is a crime. While you may believe that you can justify your action as proper, or think of it as merely a means of persuasion, nothing can give you the right to threaten or take the life of another who has done you no harm nor intended none. That, along with torture, rape, and murder, is the means by which the Imperial Order rules.\"\n\n\"But we meant you no harm,\" one of the men called out in horror that Richard would accuse them of such a ghastly crime. Other men spoke up in agreement that Richard had it all wrong.\n\n\"You think I am a savage,\" Richard said in atone of voice that silenced them and put them back a step. \" You think yourselves better than me and so that somehow makes it all right to do this tome-and to try to do it to the Mother Confessor-because you want something and, like petulant children, you expect us to give it to you.\n\n\"The alternative you give me is death. The task you demand of me is difficult beyond your imagination, making my death from your poison a very real possibility, and likely. That is the reality of it.\n\n\"I already came close to dying from your poison. At the last possible instant I was granted a temporary stay of my execution when one of you gave me a provisional antidote. My friends and loved ones believed I would die that night. You were the cause of it. You men consciously decided to poison me, thereby accepting the fact that you might be killing me.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No,\" a man insisted, his hands clasped in supplication, \"we never intended to harm you.\"\n\n\"If there was not a credible threat to my life, then why would I do as you wish? If you truly mean me no harm and are not committed to killing me if I don't go along with you, then prove it and give me the antidote so that I can have my life back. It's my life, not yours.\"\n\nThis time no one spoke up.\n\n\"No? So you see, then, it is as I say. You men are committed to either murder or enslavement. The only choice I have in it is which of those two it will be. I will hear no more of your feelings about what you intended. Your feelings do not absolve you of your very real deeds. Your actions, not your feelings, speak the truth of your intent.\"\n\nRichard clasped his hands behind his back as he paced slowly before the men. \" Now, I could do as you people are fond of doing, and tell myself that I can't know if any of it is true. I could do as you would do, declare myself inadequate to the task of knowing what's real and refuse to face reality.\n\n\"But I am the Seeker of Truth because I do not try to hide from reality. The choice to live demands that the truth be faced. I intend to do that. I intend to live.\n\n\"You men must today decide what you will do, what will be the future of your lives and the lives of the ones you love. You are going to have to deal with reality, the same as I must, if you are to have a chance at life. Today you will have to face a great deal of the truth, if you are to have that which you seek.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Richard gestured to Owen. \"I thought you said there were more men than this. Where are the rest?\"\n\nOwen took a step forward. \"Lord Rahl, to prevent violence, they turned themselves over to the men of the Order.\"\n\nRichard stared at the man. \"Owen, after all you've told me, after all those men have seen from the Order, how could they possibly believe such a thing?\"\n\n\"But how are we to know that this time it will not stop the violence? We can't know the nature of reality or-\"\n\n\"I told you before, with me you will confine yourself to what is, and not repeat meaningless phrases you have memorized. If you have real facts I want to hear them. I'm not interested in meaningless nonsense.\"\n\nOwen pulled his small pack off his back. He fished around inside and came up with a small canvas pouch. Tears welled up in his eyes as he gazed at it.\n\n\"The men of the Order found out that there were men hiding out in the hills. One of those men hiding with us has three daughters. In order to prevent a cycle of violence, someone in our town told the men of the Order which girls were his daughters.\n\n\"Everyday the men of the Order tied a rope to a finger of each one of these three girls. One man held the girl while another pulled on the rope until her finger tore off. The men of the Order told a man from our town to go to the hills and give the three fingers to our men. Everyday he came.\"\n\nOwen handed the bag to Richard. \"These are the fingers from each of his daughters.\"\n\n\"The man who brought them to our men was in a daze. They said he no longer seemed human. He talked in a dead voice. He repeated what he had been bidden to say. He had decided that since nothing was real, he would see nothing and do as he was told." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"He said that the men of the Order told him that some of the people from our town had given the names of the men in the hills and that they had the children of those other men, as well. They said that unless the men returned and gave themselves up, they would do the same to the other children.\n\n\"A little more than half the men hiding in the hills could not stand to think of themselves being the cause of such violence, and so they went back to our town and gave themselves over to the men of the Order.\"\n\n\"Why are you giving me this?\" Richard asked.\n\n\"Because,\" Owen said, his voice filled with tears, \"I wanted you to know why our men had no choice but to turn themselves in. They could not stand to think of their loved ones suffering such terrible agony because of them.\"\n\nRichard looked out at the mournful men watching him. He felt his anger boiling up inside, but he kept it in check as he spoke.\n\n\"I can understand what those men were trying to do by giving themselves up. I can't fault them for it. It won't help, but I couldn't fault them for desperately wanting to spare their loved ones from harm.\"\n\nDespite his rage, Richard spoke in a soft voice. \"I'm sorry that you and your people are suffering such brutality at the hands of the Imperial Order. But understand this: it is real, and the Order is the cause of it. Those men of yours, if they did as the Order commanded or if they failed to, were not the cause of violence. The responsibility for causing violence is entirely the Order's. You did not go out and attack them. They came to you, they attacked you, they enslave and torture and murder you.\"\n\nMost of the men stood in slumped poses, staring at the ground." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Do any of the rest of you have children?\"\n\nA number of the men nodded or mumbled that they did.\n\nRichard ran his hand back through his hair. \"Why haven't the rest of you turned yourselves in, then? Why are you here and not trying to stop the suffering in the same way the others did?\"\n\nThe men looked atone another, some seeming confused by the question while others appearing unable to put their reasons into words. Their sorrow, their distress, even their hesitant resolve, were evident on their faces, but they could not come up with words to explain why they would not turn themselves in.\n\nRichard held up the small canvas bag with the gruesome treasure, not allowing them to avoid the issue. \"You all knew about this. Why did you not return as well?\"\n\nFinally one man spoke up. \"I sneaked to the fields at sunset and talked to a man working the crops, and asked what happened to those men who had returned. He said that many of their children had already been taken away. Others had died. All the men who had come in from the hills had been taken away. None were allowed to return to their homes, to their families. What good would it do for us to go back?\"\n\n\"What good, indeed,\" Richard murmured. This was the first sign that they grasped the true nature of the situation.\n\n\"You have to stop the Order,\" Owen said. \"You must give us our freedom. Why have you made us make this journey?\"\n\nRichard's initial spark of confidence dimmed. While they might have in part grasped the truth of their troubles, they certainly weren't facing the nature of any real solution. They simply wanted to be saved. They still expected someone to do it for them: Richard.\n\nThe men all looked relieved that Owen had at last asked the question; they were apparently too timid to ask it themselves. As they waited, some of the men couldn't help stealing glances at Jennsen, standing to the rear. Most of the men also appeared troubled by the statue looming behind Richard. They could only seethe back of it and didn't really know what it was meant to be." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Because,\" Richard finally told them, \" in order for me to do as you want, it's important that you all come to understand everything involved. You expect me to simply do this for you. I can't. You are going to have to help me in this or you and all of your loved ones are lost. If we are to succeed, then you men must help the rest of your people come to understand the things I have to tell you.\n\n\"You have gone this far, you have suffered this much, you have made this much of a commitment. You realize that if you do the same as your friends have been trying to do, if you apply those same useless solutions, you, too, will be enslaved or murdered. You are running out of options. You all have made a decision to at least try to succeed, to try to rid yourselves of the brutes killing and enslaving your people.\n\n\"You men here are their last chance... their only chance.\n\n\"You must now hear the rest of what I have to tell you and then makeup your minds as to what will be your future.\"\n\nThe haggard, ragtag men, all dressed in worn and dirty clothes, all looking like they'd had a very difficult time of living in the hills, either spoke up or nodded that they would hear him out. Some even looked as if they might be relieved by how directly and honestly he spoke to them. A few even looked hungry for what he might say." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Three years ago from the coming autumn,\"Richard began,\" I lived in a place called Hartland. I was a woods guide. I had a peaceful life in a place I loved among those I loved. I knew very little about the places beyond my home. In someways I was like you people before the Order came, so I can understand some of what you felt about how things changed.\n\n\"Like you, I lived beyond a boundary that protected us from those who would do us harm.\"\n\nThe men broke out in excited whispering, apparently surprised and pleased that they could relate to him in this way, that they had something so basic in common with him.\n\n\"What happened, then?\" one of the men asked.\n\nRichard couldn't help himself; he couldn't hold back the smile that overwhelmed him.\n\n\"One day, in my woods\"-he held his handout to the side-\"Kahlan showed up. Like you, her people were in desperate trouble. She needed help. Rather than poison me, though, she told me her story and how trouble was coming our way. Much like you, the boundary protecting her people had failed and a tyrant had invaded her homeland. She also came bearing a warning that this man would soon come to my homeland, too, and conquer my people, my friends, my loved ones.\"\n\nAll the faces turned toward Kahlan. The men stared openly, as if seeing her for the first time. It looked to be astonishing to them that this statuesque woman before them could be a savage, as they thought of outsiders, and have the same kind of trouble they'd had. Richard was leaving out vast chunks of the story, but he wanted to keep it simple enough to be clear to these men.\n\n\"I was named the Seeker of Truth and given this sword to help me in this important struggle.\" Richard lifted the hilt clear of the scabbard by half the length of the blade, letting the men all seethe polished steel. Many grimaced at seeing such a weapon." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Together, side by side, Kahlan and I struggled to stop the man who sought to enslave or destroy us all. Ina strange land, she was my guide, not only helping me to fight against those who would kill us, but helping me to come to understand the wider world I had never before considered. She opened my eyes to what was out there, beyond the boundary that had protected me and my people. She helped me to seethe approaching shadow of tyranny and know the true stakes involved-life itself.\n\n\"She made me live up to the challenge. Had she not, I would not be alive today, and a great many more people would be dead or enslaved.\"\n\nRichard had to turn away, then, at the flood of painful memories, at the thought of all those lost in the struggle. At the victories so hard won.\n\nHe put his hand to the statue for support as he remembered the gruesome murder of George Cypher, the man who had raised him, the man who, until that struggle, Richard had always believed was his father. The pain of it, so distant and faraway, came rushing back again. He remembered the horror of that time, of suddenly realizing that he would never again seethe man he dearly loved. He had forgotten until that moment how much he missed him.\n\nRichard gathered his composure and turned back to the men. \" In the end, and only with Kahlan's help, I won the struggle against that tyrant I had never known existed until the day she had come into my woods and warned me.\n\n\"That man was Darken Rahl, my father, a man I had never known.\"\n\nThe men stared in disbelief. \"You never knew?\" one asked in an astonished voice.\n\nRichard shook his head. \"It's a very long story. Maybe another time I will tell you men all of it. For now, I must tell you the important parts that are relevant to you and those you love back therein your homes.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Richard looked at the ground before him, thinking, as he paced in front of the disorderly knot of men.\n\n\"When I killed Darken Rahl, I did it to keep him from killing me and my loved ones. He had tortured and murdered countless people and that alone earned him death, but I had to kill him or he would have killed me. I didn't know at the time that he was my real father or that in killing him, since I was his heir, I would become the new Lord Rahl.\n\n\"Had he known who I was, he might not have been trying to kill me, but he didn't know. I had information he wanted; he intended to torture it out of me and then kill me. I killed him first.\n\n\"Since that time, I have come to learn a great deal. What I learned connects us\"-Richard gestured to the men and then placed the hand on his own chest as he met their gazes-\" in ways you must come to understand, as well, if you are to succeed in this new struggle.\n\n\"The land where I grew up, Kahlan's land, and the land of D'Hara, all makeup the New World. As you have learned, this vast land down here outside where you grew up is called the Old World. After I became Lord Rahl, the barrier protecting us from the Old World failed, much as your own boundary failed. When it did, Emperor Jagang of the Imperial Order, down herein the Old World, used the opportunity to invade the New World, my home, much as he invaded your home. We've been fighting him and his troops for over two years, trying to defeat them or at least to drive them back to the Old World.\n\n\"The barrier that failed had protected us from the Order, or men like them, for around three thousand years, longer, even, than you were protected. Before that barrier was placed at the end of a great war, the enemy at the time, from the Old World, had used magic to create people called dream walkers.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The men fell to whispering. They had heard the name, but they didn't really understand it and speculated on what it could mean.\n\n\"Dream walkers,\" Richard explained, when they had quieted, \" could enter a person's mind in order to control them. There was no defense. Once a dream walker took over your mind, you became his slave, unable to resist his commands. The people back then were desperate.\n\n\"A man named Alric Rahl, my ancestor, came up with away to protect people's minds from being taken over by the dream walkers. He was not only the Lord Rahl who ruled D'Hara at the time, but he was also a great wizard. Through his ability he created a bond that when spoken earnestly or given in a more simple form with heartfelt sincerity, protected people from dream walkers entering their minds. Alric Rahl's link of magic to his people, through this bond, protected them.\n\n\"The devotion you men all gave is the formal declaration of that bond. It has been given by the D'Haran people to their Lord Rahl for three thousand years.\"\n\nSome of the men in front stepped forward, their faces etched with anxiety. \"Are we protected, then, from the dream walkers, Lord Rahl, because we gave this oath? Are we protected from the dream walkers entering our minds and taking us?\"\n\nRichard shook his head. \"You and your people need no protection. You are already protected in another way.\"\n\nRelief swept through the crowd of men. Some gripped the shoulder of another, or placed a hand in relief on a friend's back. They looked as if they feared that dream walkers were stalking them, and they had just been spared at the last instant.\n\n\"But how is it that we can be protected?\" Owen asked." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Richard took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. \"Well, that's the part that in away connects us. You see, as I understand it, magic needs balance in order to function.\"\n\nThere were knowing nods all around, as if these pristinely ungifted men all had an intimate understanding of magic.\n\n\"When Alric Rahl used magic to create this bond in order to protect his people,\" Richard went on, \"there needed to always be a Lord Rahl to complete the bond, to maintain its power. Not all wizards bear children who also possess this gifted ability, so part of what Alric Rahl did when he created this bond was to make it so that the Lord Rahl would always bear one son who had magic, who had the gift, and could complete this bond with the people of D'Hara. In this way they would always be protected.\"\n\nRichard held up a finger to make his point as he swept his gaze over the crowd of men. \"What they didn't know at the time was that this magic inadvertently created its own balance. While the Lord Rahl always produced a gifted heir-a wizard like him-it was only discovered later that he also occasionally produced offspring who were entirely without any magic.\"\n\nRichard could see by the blank looks that the men didn't grasp what he was telling them. He imagined that for people living such isolated lives, his story must seem rather confusing, if not far-fetched. He remembered his own confusion about magic before the boundary had comedown and he'd met Kahlan. He hadn't been raised around magic and he still didn't understand most of it himself. He'd been born with both sides of the gift, and yet he didn't know how to control it.\n\n\"You see,\" he said, \" only some people have magic-are gifted, as it's called. But all people are born with at least a very tiny spark of the gift, even though they can't manipulate magic. Until just recently, everyone thought of these people as ungifted. You see? The gifted, like wizards and sorceresses, can manipulate magic, and the rest of the people can't, so they were believed to be ungifted." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But it turns out that this isn't accurate, since there is an infinitesimal spark of the gift in everyone born. This tiny spark of the gift is actually what allows people to interact with the magic in the world around them, that is, with things and creatures that have magical properties, and with people who are gifted in a more comprehensive sense-those who do have the ability to manipulate magic.\"\n\n\"Some people in Bandakar have magic, too,\" a man said. \"True magic. Only those who have never seen-\"\n\n\"No,\" Richard said, cutting him off. He didn't want them losing track of his account. \"Owen told me about what you people believe is magic. That's not magic, that's mysticism. That's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about real magic that produces real results in the real world. Forget what you've been taught about magic, about how faith supposedly creates what you believe in and that is real magic. It's not real. It's just the fanciful illusion of magic in people's imaginations.\"\n\n\"But it is real,\" someone said in a respectful but firm voice. \"More real than what you see and feel.\"\n\nRichard turned a harsh look on the men. \"If it's so real, then why did you have to use a known poison on me that was mixed by a man who had worked his whole life with herbs? Because you know what's real, that's why; when it was vital to yourself-interest, to your lives, you resorted to dealing in reality, to what you know really works.\"\n\nRichard pointed back at Kahlan. \"The Mother Confessor has real magic. It's no fanciful curse put on someone and when they die ten years later people believe the curse was the cause. She has real magic that is in elemental ways linked to death, so it affects even you. She can touch someone, with this real magic, and in an instant they will be dead. Not ten years from now-right now, on the spot.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Richard stood resolutely in front of the men, gazing from eye to eye. \"If someone doesn't believe that is real magic, then let's have a test. Let them perform their faith-based magic and put a spell on me-to kill me right here and now. After they've done that, then they will come forward and be touched by the Mother Confessor's very real, lethal power. Then everyone else will be able to seethe results and judge for themselves.\" He looked from face to face. \"Anyone willing to take up the test? Any magicians among all you ungifted people willing to try it?\"\n\nWhen the men remained silent, no one moving, Richard went on.\n\n\"So, it would seem that you men do have some understanding of what's real and what isn't. Keep that in mind. Learn from it.\n\n\"Now, I told you how the Lord Rahl always bore a son with magic so he could pass on the rule of D'Hara and his gifted ability in order to make the bond work. But, as I said, the bond that Alric Rahl created may have had an unintended consequence.\n\n\"Only later was it discovered that the Lord Rahl, possibly as a means of balance, also sometimes produced offspring that were entirely without any magic-not just ungifted in the way most people are, but unlike any people ever born before: they were pristinely ungifted. These pristinely ungifted people had absolutely no spark of the gift whatsoever.\n\n\"Because of that, because they were pristinely ungifted, they were unable to interact with the real magic in the world. They were unable to be touched by magic at all. For them, magic might as well not exist because they were not born with the ability to see it or to interact with it. You might say they were like a bird that could not fly. They looked like a bird, they had feathers, they ate bugs, but they couldn't fly." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Back then in that time, three thousand years ago, after the bond had been created to protect people from dream walkers in the war, the wizards finally succeeded in placing a barrier between the Old and the New World. Because those in the Old World could no longer come to the New World to wage war, the great war ended. Peace finally came.\n\n\"The people of the New World discovered, though, that they had a problem. These pristinely ungifted offspring of the Lord Rahl passed this trait onto their children. Every offspring of a marriage with at least one of these pristinely ungifted partners bears pristinely ungifted children-always, every time. As these offspring married and had children and then grandchildren and then great-grandchildren, as there were more and more of them, that pristinely ungifted trait began spreading throughout the population.\n\n\"People, at the time, were frightened because they depended on magic. Magic was part of their world. Magic was what had saved them from the dream walkers. Magic had created the barrier that protected them from the horde from the Old World. Magic had ended the war. Magic healed people, found lost children, produced beautiful creations of art that inspired and brought joy. Magic could help guide people in the course of future events.\n\n\"Some towns grew up around a gifted person who could serve people's needs. Many gifted people earned a living performing such services. In somethings, magic gave people control over nature and thus made the lives of everyone better. Things accomplished with the aid of magic improved the living conditions of nearly everyone. Magic was a force of individual creation and thus individual accomplishment. Nearly everyone derived some benefit from it.\n\n\"This is not to say that magic was or is indispensable, but that it was a useful aid, a tool. Magic was like their right arm. Yet it's the mind of man, not his magic, that is indispensable-much like you could survive without your right arm, but you couldn't survive without your mind. But magic had become intertwined in the lives of everyone, so many believed that it was absolutely indispensable." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The people came to feel that this new threat-the pristinely ungifted trait spreading through the population-would be the end of everything they knew, everything that they thought was important, that it would be the end of their most vital protection-magic.\"\n\nRichard gazed out at all the faces, waiting to make sure that the men had grasped the essence of the story, that they understood how desperate the people must have been, and why.\n\n\"So, what did the people do about these new pristinely ungifted people among them?\" a man in the back asked.\n\nIna quiet tone, Richard said, \"Something terrible.\"\n\nHe pulled the book from a leather pouch on his belt and held it up for all the men to see as he again paced before them. The clouds, laden with storms of snow, rolled silently through the frigid valley pass, bound for the peaks above them.\n\n\"This book is called The Pillars of Creation. That's what the wizards back then called these pristinely ungifted people-pillars of Creation-because they had the power, with this trait that they passed along to their offspring, to alter the very nature of mankind. They were the foundation of an entirely new kind of people-people without any connection to magic.\n\n\"I only just a short time ago came across this book. It's meant for the Lord Rahl, and others, so that they will know about these pristinely ungifted people who are unaffected by magic. The book tells the history of how these people came about-through those born to the Lord Rahl-along with the history of what was discovered about them. It also reveals what the people back then, thousands of years ago, did about these pillars of Creation.\"\n\nMen rubbed their arms in the cold air as Richard slowly paced before them. They all looked caught up in the story." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So,\" Owen asked, \"what did they do?\"\n\nRichard came to a stop and stood watching their eyes before he spoke.\n\n\"They banished them.\"\n\nAstonished whispering broke out among the men. They were stunned to hear the final solution. These people understood banishment, they understood it all too well, and they could sympathize with these banished people of so long ago.\n\n\"That's terrible,\" a man in front said, shaking his head.\n\nAnother frowned and held up a hand. \"Weren't these pillars of Creation related to some of the other people? Weren't they part of the towns? Didn't the people feel sorrow at banishing these ungifted people?\"\n\nRichard nodded. \" Yes. They were friends and family. Those banished people were intimately intertwined in the lives of nearly everyone. The book tells how heavyhearted the people felt at the decision that had been reached about these pristinely ungifted people. It must have been an awful time, a dreadful choice that no one liked, but those in charge at the time decided that in order for them to preserve their way of life, to preserve magic and all it meant to them, to preserve that attribute of man, rather than value the lives of individuals for who they were, they had to banish these pristinely ungifted people.\n\n\"What's more, they also decreed that all future offspring of the Lord Rahl, except his gifted heir, should be put to death to insure that no pillar of Creation ever again came among them.\"\n\nThis time there was no whispering. The men looked saddened by the story of these mysterious people and the terrible solution of how to deal with them. Heads hung as the men thought about what it must have been like back in such a grim time." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Finally, a man's head came up. His brow twitched. He finally asked the question Richard expected to be asked, the question he had been waiting for.\n\n\"But where were these pillars of Creation banished to? Where were they sent?\"\n\nRichard watched the men as other eyes turned up, curious about the historic mystery, waiting for him to goon.\n\n\"These people were not affected by magic,\" Richard reminded them. \"And the barrier holding back the Old World was a barrier created of magic.\"\n\n\"They sent them through the barrier!\" a man guessed aloud.\n\nRichard nodded. \" Many wizards had died and given their power into that barrier so that their people would be protected from those in the Old World who wanted to rule them and to end magic. That was a large part of what the war had been fought over-those in the Old World had wanted to eradicate magic from mankind.\n\n\"So, those people in the New World sent these pristinely ungifted people, these people without any magic, through the barrier to the Old World.\n\n\"They never knew what became of them, those friends and family and loved ones they had banished, because they had been sent beyond a barrier that none of them could cross. It was thought that they would establish new lives, would make anew beginning. But, because the barrier was there, and it was enemy territory beyond, the people of the New World never knew what became of those banished people.\n\n\"Finally, a few years ago, that barrier came down. If these banished people had made a life for themselves in the Old World, they would have had children and spread their pristinely ungifted attribute\"-Richard lifted his arms in a shrug-\" but there is no trace of them. The people down here are just the same as the people up in the New World-some born gifted but all born with at least that tiny spark of the gift that enables them to interact with magic." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Those people from ancient times seemed just to have vanished.\"\n\n\"So now we know,\" Owen reasoned as he stared off in thought, \"that all those people sent to the Old World so long ago tragically died out... or maybe were killed.\"\n\n\"I had thought as much myself,\" Richard said. He turned and faced the men, waiting until all eyes were on him before going on.\n\n\"But then I found them. I found those long-lost people.\"\n\nExcited whispering broke out again. The men appeared inspired by the prospect of such people surviving against all odds.\n\n\"Where are they, then, Lord Rahl,\" a man asked, \"these people with whom you share ancestry? These people who had to endure such cruel banishment and hardship?\"\n\nRichard leveled a cutting gaze at the men. \"Come with me, and I will tell you what became of these people.\"\n\nRichard led them around the statue, to the front, where, for the first time, they could seethe full view of the sentinel in stone. The men were awestruck at finally seeing the statue from the front. They talked excitedly among themselves about how real it looked, about how they could clearly seethe stalwart features of the man's face.\n\nBy the utter shock in their voices and by what the men were saying, Richard got the distinct impression that they'd never seen a statue before, at least no statue as monumental as this one. It appeared that for these men the statue must be something akin to a manifestation of magic, rather than, as Richard knew it to be, a manifestation of man's ability.\n\nRichard placed a hand on the cold stone of the base. \"This is an ancient statue of an Old World wizard named Kaja-Rang. It was carved, in part, as a tribute to the man because he was a great and powerful wizard.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Owen lifted a hand to interrupt. \"But I thought the people in the Old World wanted to be without magic? Why would they have a great wizard-and why, especially, would they pay a tribute to such a man of magic?\"\n\nRichard smiled at Owen catching the contradiction. \" People don't always act in a consistent manner. What's more, the more irrational are your beliefs, the more glaring the inconsistencies. You men, for example, try to gloss over incongruities in your behavior by applying your convictions selectively. You claim that nothing is real, or that we cannot know the true nature of reality, and yet you fear what the Order does to you-you believe firmly enough in the reality of what they're doing that you want it to stop.\n\n\"If nothing were real, then you would have no reason to want to stop the Imperial Order. In fact, it's counter to your professed beliefs to try to stop them, or to even feel that their presence is real, much less detrimental, since you assert that man is inadequate at the task of knowing reality.\n\n\"Yet you grasp the reality of what's happening at the hands of the men of the Order, and know very well that it's abhorrent, so you selectively suspend the precepts of your beliefs in order to send Owen to poison me in an attempt to get me to rid you of your very real problem.\"\n\nSome of the men looked confused by what Richard said while others looked to be embarrassed. A few looked astonished. None looked willing to challenge him, so they let him goon without interrupting.\n\n\"The people in the Old World were the same way-they still are. They claimed they didn't want magic, and yet when faced with that reality, they didn't want to do without it. The Imperial Order is like this. They've come to the New World claiming to be a champion of freeing mankind of magic, proclaiming themselves to be noble for holding such a goal, and yet they use magic in the pursuit of this professed goal. They contend that magic is evil, and yet they embrace it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Their leader, Emperor Jagang, uses those with magic to help accomplish his ends, among which, he claims, is the eradication of magic. Jagang is a dream walker descended from those dream walkers of so long ago. His ability as a dream walker is magic, yet he does not disqualify himself from leading his empire. Even though he has magic, which he claims makes people unfit to have any say in the future, he calls himself Jagang the Just.\n\n\"Despite what they declare they believe, their goal is to rule people, plain and simple. They seek power but dress it up in noble-sounding robes. Every tyrant thinks he is different. They are all the same. They all rule by brute force.\"\n\nOwen was frowning, trying to grasp it all. \"So, those in the Old World did not live by their word, by what they claimed they believed. They lived in conflict. They preached that man was better without magic, but they continued to want to use magic.\"\n\n\"That's right.\"\n\nOwen gestured up at the statue. \"What of this man, then? Why is he here, if he is against what they preached?\"\n\nDark clouds roiled above the towering statue. The still air hung cold, heavy, and damp. It felt as if a storm were holding back its onslaught, waiting to hear the rest.\n\n\"This man is here because he fought to save the people of the Old World from something they feared more than magic itself,\" Richard said.\n\nHe gazed up at the resolute face with its eyes fixed forever on the place called the Pillars of Creation.\n\n\"This man,\" Richard said in a quiet voice, \"this wizard, Kaja-Rang, collected all of those pristinely ungifted people, those pillars of Creation, who had been banished down here from the New World, along with any people who while they lived here had joined with them, and he sent them all there.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Richard pointed off into the distance behind the statue.\n\n\"He put all those people in that place, protected by the mountains all around, and then he placed a boundary of death before them, across this pass, so that they could never again come out to be among the rest of the people of the world.\n\n\"Kaja-Rang gave these people their name: the Bandakar. The name, bandakar, is from a very old language called High D'Haran. It means'the banished. ' This man, Kaja-Rang, is the one who sealed them in and saved his people from the pristinely ungifted, from those without magic.\"\n\n\"You,\" Richard said to the men before him, \"are the descendants of those banished people. You are the descendants of Alric Rahl, of the people sent into exile in the Old World. You are all descendants of the House of Rahl. Your ancestors and mine are the same men. You are the banished people.\"\n\nThe top of the pass before the statue of Kaja-Rang was dead silent. The men stared in shock.\n\nAnd then pandemonium broke out. Richard made no effort to stop them, to bring them to be quiet. Rather, he stood close beside Kahlan as he let them take it in. He wanted to give them the time they needed to come to grasp the enormity of what he had told them.\n\nArms in the air, some men cried outwith the outrage at what they'd heard, others wailed with the horror of the story, some wept in sorrow, many argued, a few protested various points that others answered, while yet others repeated key elements to one another almost as if to hear the words again so they could test them, agreeing finally that it might very well be so." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But through it all, they all slowly began to grasp the enormity of what they'd heard. They all began to hear the ring of truth in the story. Chattering like magpies, all talking at once, they expressed disbelief, outrage, wonder, and even fear, as they came to the heady comprehension of who they really were.\n\nAt the whispered urging of some among the group, after having gotten over the initial shock, the men all quieted and at last turned back to Richard, hungry to know more.\n\n\"You are this gifted man, the favored heir, the Lord Rahl, and we are the ones banished by your kind,\" one of the men said, expressing what looked to be a common fear, the unspoken question of what this would mean for them.\n\n\"That's right,\" Richard said. \"I am the Lord Rahl, the leader of the D'Haran Empire, and you are the descendants of the pillars of Creation who were banished. I am gifted as have been my ancestors, every Lord Rahl before me. You are ungifted as were your ancestors.\"\n\nStanding before the statue of Kaja-Rang, the man who had banished them, Richard looked out at all the tense faces.\n\n\"That banishment was a grievous wrong. It was immoral. As Lord Rahl, I denounce the banishment and declare it forever ended. You are no longer the Empire of Bandakar, the banished ones, you are now once again, as you once were, D'Harans, if you choose to be.\"\n\nEvery man seemed to hold his breath, waiting to see if he meant it, or would add more, or if he might even recant it.\n\nRichard put his arm around Kahlan's waist as he calmly gazed out at all the hopeful expressions." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Richard smiled." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Welcome home.\"\n\nAnd then they were all falling at his feet, kissing his boots, his pants, his hands, and, for those who couldn't crowd in close enough, the ground before him. In short order, they were kissing the hem of Kahlan's dress.\n\nThey had found a relation, and were in turn welcoming him among them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As the men crowded around their feet, openly offering their gratitude for ending their sentence of banishment, Richard shared a sidelong glance with Kahlan. Cara looked decidedly displeased by the display but didn't interfere.\n\nTrying to bring a halt to the tearful tribute, Richard gestured for the men to getup. \"There is much more to tell you. Listen tome, now.\"\n\nThe smiling, tearful men drew back, hands clasped while gazing at him as if he were along-lost brother. There were a few older men among the crowd and some of middle age, but most ranged from young, like Owen, to a little older, like Richard. They were all men who had been through terrible times.\n\nThe most difficult part still lay ahead; Richard had to make them face up to what was to come.\n\nLooking over at Jennsen, standing alone off to the side, he gestured for her to come forward.\n\nJennsen emerged from the shadows of the statue, catching the attention of all eyes as she made her way toward Richard. The men all watched her coming into the light. She looked so beautiful that Richard couldn't help smiling as she stepped across the rocks. Pulling on a red ringlet, she cast ashy glance at the men.\n\nWhen Richard held an arm out, she sought protection under the shelter of that arm as she gazed nervously out at men who were like her in one important way.\n\n\"This is my sister, Jennsen Rahl,\" Richard said. \"She was born pristinely ungifted, just like all of you. Our father tried to kill her, as has been done for thousands of years with ungifted offspring.\"\n\n\"And you?\" a man asked, still skeptical. \"You will not reject her?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Richard hugged Jennsen with the one arm. \"For what? For what crime should I reject her? Because she was born a woman, instead of a manlike me? Because she isn't as tall as me? Because she has red hair, instead of hairlike mine? Because her eyes are blue and not gray?... Because she is ungifted?\"\n\nThe men shifted their weight to the other foot or folded their arms. Some, after all he had already said, averted their eyes, looking embarrassed to have even asked the question.\n\n\"She's beautiful, smart, and uses her head. She, too, fights for her right to live, and does so through reasoned means. She is as you men, pristinely ungifted. Because she shares an understanding of the value of life, I embrace her.\"\n\nRichard heard the bleat and turned. Betty, her rope trailing behind, trotted up the rise. Jennsen rolled her eyes as Betty came close, peering up, her tail wagging in a blur.\n\nJennsen snatched up the rope, inspecting the end. Richard could see that it had been chewed through.\n\n\"Betty,\" she scolded, shaking the end of the rope at the unrepentant goat, \"what did you do?\"\n\nBetty bleated her answer, clearly proud of herself.\n\nJennsen heaved a sigh as she shrugged an apology at Richard.\n\nThe men had all taken several steps back, murmuring their dread to one another.\n\n\"I'm not a witch,\" Jennsen told them in a heated tone. \"Just because I have red hair that doesn't mean I'm a witch.\"\n\nThe men looked thoroughly unconvinced.\n\n\"I've had dealings with a very real witch woman,\" Richard told them. \"I can assure you, red hair is no mark of a witch. It just isn't true.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It is true,\" one of the men insisted. He pointed at Betty. \"There is her attendant spirit.\"\n\nRichard's brow wrinkled. \"Attendant spirit?\"\n\n\"That's right,\" another told him. \"A witch always has a familiar with her. She called her attendant spirit and it came to her.\"\n\n\"Called her?\" Jennsen brandished the frayed end of the rope at the men. \"I tied her to a tree and she chewed through her rope.\"\n\nAnother man shook his finger at her. \"You called her with magic and she came.\"\n\nFists at her sides, Jennsen took a step toward the men. They took a collective step back.\n\n\"You men all had family and friends-a community of people. I had no friends and could have none because my mother and I had to run from my father my whole life to keep from being caught. He would have tortured and murdered me had he caught me-the same as he would have done with you. I could have no childhood friends, so my mother gave me Betty. Betty was just newborn; we grew up together. Betty chewed through her rope because I'm the only family she's ever known and she simply wanted to be close tome.\n\n\"I was banished from everyone for my crime of birth, just like your ancestors. You all know the injustice of such banishment and you know its pain. And now you foolish men would banish me from your acceptance because I have red hair and a goat as a pet? You are spineless cowards and hypocrites!\n\n\"First you poison the only person in the world brave enough to end our banishment from the rest of mankind and now you fear me and reject me because of silly superstitions. If I did have magic, I'd burn you all to a cinder for your cruel attitudes!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Richard put a hand on her shoulder and drew her back." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It will be all right,\" he whispered to her. \"Just let me talk to them.\"\n\n\"You tell us that you're a wizard,\" an older man in the back called out, \"and then you expect us to believe it's so-on faith-because you say it is, while you claim that we should not hold to our beliefs, such as our fear that she could be a witch with her familiar, because it's held only on faith.\"\n\n\"That's right,\" another said. \"You claim your belief is in real magic, while you dismiss our belief. A lot of what you say makes sense, but I don't agree with all of it.\"\n\nThere could be no partial agreement. To reject part of the truth was to reject it all. Richard considered his options, how he could convince people without magic, who could not see magic, that real magic existed. From their perspective, he seemed guilty of the same error he was telling them they were making. How could he demonstrate a rainbow of color to the blind?\n\n\"You have a point,\" Richard said. \"Give me a moment and I will show you the reality of the magic I talk about.\"\n\nHe motioned Cara closer. \"Get me the warning beacon,\" he said in a confidential tone.\n\nCara immediately took off down the hill. He saw that Jennsen's angry blue eyes were filled with tears but she didn't cry. Kahlan pulled her back farther as Richard addressed the men.\n\n\"There is more I must tell you-somethings you need to understand. I have ended the banishment, but that does not mean that I unconditionally accept you back as one of our people.\"\n\n\"But you said that we were welcomed home,\" Owen said.\n\n\"I'm stating the obvious-that you have aright to your own life. Out of goodwill I welcome you all to be part of D'Hara if you wish-part of what D'Hara now stands for. But by welcoming you back, that does not mean that I welcome people unconditionally." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"All men should be free to live their own lives, but make no mistake, there is avast difference between that freedom and anarchy.\n\n\"If we triumph in our struggle, you are welcome to be free people of a D'Haran Empire which holds a belief in specific values. For example, you can think whatever you wish and try to persuade others of the value of your beliefs, but you cannot act on a view that those who fight to gain that freedom are savages or criminals, even though you expect to enjoy the fruits of their struggle. At minimum, they have earned your respect and gratitude. Their lives are no less than yours and are not expendable for your benefit. That is slavery.\"\n\n\"But you have savage ways and engage in violence fora land we have never even seen,\" one of the younger men said. He pointed an arm back toward Bandakar. \"The only land we have ever known is here and we unconditionally reject your love of violence.\"\n\n\"Land?\" Richard spread his arms. \" We do not fight for land. We are loyal to an ideal-an ideal of liberty wherever man lives. We do not guard territory, bleed fora piece of dirt. We don't fight because we love violence. We fight for our freedom as individuals to live our own lives, to pursue our own survival, our own happiness.\n\n\"Your unconditional rejection of violence makes you smugly think of yourselves as noble, as enlightened, but in reality it is nothing less than abject moral capitulation to evil. Unconditional rejection of self-defense, because you think it's a supposed surrender to violence, leaves you no resort but begging for mercy or offering appeasement.\n\n\"Evil grants no mercy, and to attempt to appease it is nothing more than a piecemeal surrender to it. Surrender to evil is slavery at best, death at worst. Thus, your unconditional rejection of violence is really nothing more than embracing death as preferable to life." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You will achieve what you embrace.\n\n\"The right, the absolute necessity, of vengeance against anyone who initiates force against you is fundamental to survival. The morality of a people's self-defense is in its defense of each individual's right to life. It's an intolerance of violence, made real by an unwavering willingness to crush any who would launch violence against you. The unconditional determination to destroy any who would initiate force against you is an exaltation of the value of life. Refusing to surrender your life to any thug or tyrant who lays claim to it is in fact embracing life itself.\n\n\"If you are unwilling to defend your right to your own lives, then you are merely like mice trying to argue with owls. You think their ways are wrong. They think you are dinner.\n\n\"The Imperial Order preaches that mankind is corrupt and evil, and therefore life is of little value. Their actions certainly bear this out. They moralize that you can only win salvation and happiness in some other world, and then only by sacrificing your life in this one.\n\n\"Generosity is fine, if it's by your free choice, but a belief in the primacy of self-sacrifice as amoral requisite is nothing less than the sanctioning of slavery. Those who tell you that it is your responsibility and duty to sacrifice are trying to blind you to the chains they are slipping around your neck.\n\n\"As D'Harans, you will not be required to sacrifice your life to another, and by the same token you cannot demand that others sacrifice themselves to you. You may believe as you wish, you may even feel that you cannot take up arms and fight directly for our survival, but you must help support our cause and you may not contribute materially or spiritually to the destruction of our values and therefore our lives-that is treason and will be treated as such." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The Imperial Order has violently invaded innocent lands, like yours. They have enslaved, tortured, raped, and murdered in order to seize rule. They have done no less in the New World. They have forfeited their right to be heard. There is no moral dilemma involved, no ethical question open to debate; they must be ground into dust.\"\n\nA man stepped forward. \"But common decency in dealing with our fellowman requires that we must show them mercy for their misguided ways.\"\n\n\"There is no greater value than life-and that's what you partially recognize by your confused notion of granting mercy. Their conscious, deliberate act of murder takes the irreplaceable value of life from another. A murderer, by his own choice to kill, forfeits the right to his own life. Mercy for such evil is nothing short of excusing it and thus allowing evil to prevail-it codifies the taking of innocent life by not making the murderer forfeit their own guilty life.\n\n\"Mercy grants value to the life of a killer, while, at the same time, it strips away the value of the life of the innocent victim. It makes the life of a killer more important than the life of an innocent. It is thus a trade of the good to the evil. It is the victory of death over life.\"\n\n\"So,\" Owen wondered aloud, \"because the Order has attacked your land and murdered its people, you intend to try to kill every living person in the Old World?\"\n\n\"No. The Order is evil and from the Old World. That does not mean that the people of the Old World are evil simply because they happen to have been born on a patch of ground ruled by evil men. Some actively support these rulers and therefore embrace evil, but not everyone does. Many of the people in the Old World are also the victims of the rule of the Imperial Order and suffer greatly under its brutality. Many struggle against this evil rule. As we speak, many risk their lives to rid themselves of these evil men. We fight for the same thing: liberty." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Where those who seek liberty were born is irrelevant." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "We believe in the value of the individual's life. That means that where someone lives does not make them evil-it's their beliefs and actions that matter.\n\n\"But make no mistake-many people are an active part of the Imperial Order and its murderous ways. Actions must have consequences. The Order must be eradicated.\"\n\n\"Surely, you would allow some compromise,\" one of the older men said.\n\n\"If, hoping to appease it, you willingly compromise with unrepentant evil, you only allow such evil to sink its fangs into you; from that day on its venom will course through your veins until it finally kills you.\"\n\n\"But that's too harsh a sentiment,\" the man said. \"It's just being stubborn and obstructing a constructive path. There is always room for compromise.\"\n\nRichard tapped his thumb against his chest. \"You men decided to give me poison. That poison will kill me; that makes it evil. How would you suggest I compromise with poison?\"\n\nNo one had an answer.\n\n\"In trade between willing parties who share moral values and who deal fairly and honestly with one another, compromise over something like price is legitimate. In matters of morality or truth, there can be no compromise.\n\n\"Compromising with murderers, which is precisely what you are suggesting, grants them moral equivalence where none can rightfully exist. Moral equivalence says that you are no better than they; therefore, their belief-that they should be able to torture, rape, or murder you-is just as morally valid as your view-that you have the right to live free of their violence. Moral compromise rejects the concept of right and wrong. It says that everyone is equal, all desires are equally valid, all action is equally valid, so everyone should compromise to get along.\n\n\"Where could you compromise with those who torture, rape, and murder people? In the number of days a week you will be tortured? In the number of men to be allowed to rape your loved ones? In how many of your family are to be murdered?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No moral equivalence exists in that situation, nor can it exist, so there can be no compromise, only suicide.\n\n\"To even suggest compromise can exist with such men is to sanction murder.\"\n\nMost of the men appeared shocked and startled to hear someone speaking to them in such a straightforward manner. They seemed to be losing interest in their supply of empty adages. Some of the men looked to be moved by Richard's words. A few even looked inspired by their clarity; he could see it in their eyes, as if they were seeing things for the first time.\n\nCara came up behind Richard and handed him the warning beacon. Richard wasn't sure, but it seemed as if the inky black had taken over more of the surface of the small figure than the last time he'd seen it. Inside, the sand continued to trickle down onto the accumulated pile in the bottom.\n\n\"Kaja-Rang placed the boundary across this pass to seal your people in. He is the one who named you. He knew your people shunned violence and he feared you might end up being prey to criminals. He is the one who gave you away to banish them from your land so that you could continue to have the kind of life you wanted. He told your people of the passage through the boundary so that you could rid yourselves of criminals if you rallied the will.\"\n\nOwen looked troubled. \"If this great wizard, Kaja-Rang, didn't want our people among the population of the Old World because we would mix with them and spread our pristinely ungifted trait, as you call it, then what about the criminals we banish? Sending those men out into the world would cause the thing they feared. Making this pass through the boundary and telling our ancestors about it would seem to defeat the whole purpose of the boundary.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Richard smiled. \"Very good, Owen. You are beginning to think for yourself.\"\n\nOwen smiled. Richard gestured up at the statue of Kaja-Rang.\n\n\"You see where he's looking? It's a place called the Pillars of Creation. It's a deathly hot place where nothing lives-a land stalked by death. The boundary that Kaja-Rang placed had sides to it. When you sent people out of your land, through the boundary, the walls of death to the sides prevented those banished people from escaping into the world at large. They had only one way they could go: the Pillars of Creation.\n\n\"Even with water and supplies, and knowing where you must go to get past it, trying to go through the valley known as the Pillars of Creation is almost certain death. Without water and supplies, without knowing the land, without knowing how to travel it and where you must go to escape such a place, those you banished faced certain death.\"\n\nThe men stared, wide-eyed. \"Then, when we banished a criminal, we were actually executing them,\" one of the men said.\n\n\"That's right.\"\n\n\"This Kaja-Rang tricked us, then,\" the man added. \"Tricked us into what was actually the killing of those men.\"\n\n\"You think that a terrible trick?\" Richard asked. \" You people were deliberately setting known criminals loose on the world to prey on unsuspecting people. You were knowingly setting free violent men, and condemning unsuspecting people outside your land to be victims of violence. Rather than put murderers to death, you were, as far as you knew-had you given it any thought-knowingly assisting them in going onto kill others. In the blind attempt to avoid violence at all cost, you actually championed it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You told yourselves that those other people didn't matter, because they weren't enlightened, like you, that you were better than they because you were above violence, that you unconditionally rejected violence." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If you even thought about it, you considered these people beyond the boundary to be savages, their lives unimportant. For all intents and purposes, you were sacrificing their innocent lives for the lives of those men you knew to be evil.\n\n\"What Kaja-Rang was doing, besides keeping the pristinely ungifted from being at large in the world, was executing those criminals you banished before they could harm other people. You think yourselves noble in rejecting violence, but your actions would have fostered it. Only Kaja-Rang's actions prevented it.\"\n\n\"Dear Creator. It is far worse than that.\" Owen sank down, sitting heavily. \"Far worse than you even realize.\"\n\nOther men, too, looked to be stricken with horror. Some had to lower themselves to the ground as Owen had. Others, their faces in their hands, turned away, or walked off a few paces.\n\n\"What do you mean?\" Richard asked.\n\nOwen looked up, his face ashen. \"The story I told you about our land... about our town and the other great cities? How in my town we all lived together and were happy with our lives?\" Richard nodded. \"Not all were.\"\n\nKahlan crossed her arms and leaned toward Owen. \"What do you mean, not all were?\"\n\nOwen lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. \"Some wanted more than our simple joyful life. Some people... well, they wanted to change things. They said they wanted to make things better. They wanted to improve our life, to build places for themselves, even though this is against our ways.\"\n\n\"Owen is right,\" an older man said in a grim tone. \"In my time I have seen a great many of these people who were unable to endure what some called the chafing principles of our empire.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And what happened when people wanted to make these changes, or could not endure the principles of your empire?\" Richard asked.\n\nOwen looked to each side, to the other dispirited faces. \"The great speakers renounced their ideas. The Wise One said they would only bring strife among us. Their hopes for new ways were turned aside and they were denounced.\" Owen swallowed. \"So these people decided they would leave Bandakar. They went out of our land, taking the path through the opening in the boundary, to find anew life for themselves. Not a single one ever returned to us.\"\n\nRichard wiped a hand across his face. \"Then they died looking for their new life, a better life than what you had to offer.\"\n\n\"But you don't understand.\" Owen rose to his feet. \"We are like those people.\" He swept his arm back at his men. \" We have refused to go back and give ourselves over to the men of the Order, even though we know that people are being tortured because we hide. We know it will not stop the Order, so we don't go back.\n\n\"We have gone against the wishes of our great speakers, and the Wise One, to try to save our people. We have been denounced for what we choose to do. We have gone out of the pass to seek information, to find away to rid ourselves of the Imperial Order. Do you see? We are much the same as those others throughout our history. Like those others, we chose to leave and try to change things rather than to endure the way things were.\"\n\n\"Then perhaps you are beginning to see,\" Richard said, \"that everything you were taught showed you only how to embrace death, not life. Perhaps you see that what you called the teaching of enlightenment was no more than blinders pulled over your eyes.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Help to continue the narrative for the writer.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, imperialism\nAuthor: Terry Goodkind\nTitle: Naked Empire\nChapter: 53" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Zedd blinked in astonishment. \"Rikka?\"\n\nRikka was already turning, her Agiel in her fist. She held it toward Chase.\n\n\"Rikka?\" Captain Zimmer asked from the other side of the tent, sounding startled, not just to see who it was, but perhaps to seethe Mord-Sith with her blond hair undone from its single braid and flying free.\n\n\"Zimmer?\" She frowned at his black hair. \"What are you doing here?\"\n\n\"What am I doing here? What are you doing here!\" He gestured to her dress. \"What are you wearing?\"\n\nRikka grinned that wicked grin she had. \"The dress of a Sister.\"\n\n\"Sister?\" Zedd asked. \"What Sister?\"\n\nRikka shrugged. \"One who didn't want to give up her dress. She lost her head over the whole affair.\" With her finger and thumb Rikka pulled her lower lip out. \"See? I borrowed herring, too. I spread the split and hung it here, so I'd look like areal Sister.\"\n\nRikka pulled Sister Tahirah up by her hair and shoved her toward Adie. \"Get that thing off her neck.\"\n\n\"I will do no such-\"\n\nRikka drove her Agiel up under the Sister's chin. Blood gushed out over her lower lip. The Sister started choking on it as she gasped in agony.\n\n\"I said, get that thing off Adie's neck. And don't you ever question me again.\"\n\nSister Tahirah scrambled to Adie to do as the Mord-Sith had commanded.\n\nChase planted his fists on his hips as he glared down at Zedd, still on the ground. \"So what are we going to do now-draw straws to see who gets to rescue you?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Bags! Isn't anyone listening? You people have to get out of here!\"\n\nRachel shook a finger at Zedd. \"Now, Zedd, you know you're not supposed to say bad words in front of children.\"\n\nSputtering in frustration, Zedd gaped up at Chase.\n\n\"I know,\" the boundary warden said with a sigh. \"She's been atrial for me, too.\"\n\n\"The sun's about to set!\" Zedd roared.\n\n\"It would be better if we could delay until it did,\" Captain Zimmer said. \"It would be easier to get out of camp in the dark.\"\n\nA humming noise filled the tent, making the very air vibrate, and then there was a sudden metallic pop. Adie cried outwith relief as the collar fell away.\n\n\"Isn't anyone listening?\" Zedd scrambled to his feet and shook his fists. \"I've ignited a sunset spell!\"\n\n\"A what?\" Chase asked.\n\n\"A sunset spell. It's a protective device from the Keep. It's a shield of sorts. When it recognizes that other shields are being violated and protected items are being taken, it insinuates itself among the stolen goods. When a thief opens it to see what it is, it activates the spell. At the first sunset the spell ignites and destroys everything that has been plundered.\"\n\nSister Tahirah shook her fist at him. \"You fool!\"\n\nRikka seized his arm. \"Then let's get going.\"\n\nChase grabbed Zedd's other arm and pulled him back. \"Now, hold on.\"\n\nZedd yanked both arms free and pointed out through the slit in the side of the tent at the setting sun. \"We've got mere moments until this place is a fireball.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"How big a fireball?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Captain Zimmer asked.\n\nZedd threw up his hands. \"It will kill thousands. It won't destroy the camp by any means, but this whole area is going to be leveled.\"\n\nEveryone started talking, but Chase cut them all off with an angry command for silence. \"Now listen tome. If we look like we're escaping, we'll be caught. Captain, you and your men come with me. We'll pretend like Zedd and Adie are our prisoners. Rachel, too-that's how I got inhere; I found out they were holding children.\" He flipped a hand toward Rikka and Sister Tahirah. \"They will look like Sisters in charge of prisoners, along with us playing as the guards.\"\n\n\"Do you want that thing off your neck, first?\" Rikka asked Zedd.\n\n\"No time for that now. Let's go.\"\n\nAdie grabbed Zedd's arm. \"No.\"\n\n\"What!\"\n\n\"Listen tome, old man. There be those families and children in these tents around us. They will die. You go. Get to the Keep. I will get the innocent people out of here.\"\n\nZedd didn't like the idea, but arguing with Adie was a fool's task, and besides, there was no time.\n\n\"We split up, then,\" Captain Zimmer said. \"Me and my men will play the part of guards and get the men, women, and children out of here, back to our lines, along with Adie.\"\n\nRikka nodded. \"Tell Verna that I'm going to go with Zedd to help take back the Keep. He will need a Mord-Sith to keep him out of trouble.\"\n\nEveryone looked around to see if there would be any arguments. No one said anything. It suddenly seemed settled." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Done,\" Zedd said.\n\nHe threw his arms around Adie and kissed her cheek. \"Be careful. Tell Verna I'm going to take the Keep back. Help her defend the passes.\"\n\nAdie nodded. \"Be careful. Listen to Chase-he be a good man to come all this way for you.\"\n\nZedd smiled and then gasped as Chase grabbed his robes and yanked him out of the tent. \"The sun is setting-let's get out of here. Remember, you're our prisoner.\"\n\n\"I know the part,\" Zedd grumbled as he was dragged out of the tent like a sack of grain. He smiled as Adie, already rushing away, looked over her shoulder one last time. She smiled back, and then was gone.\n\n\"Wait!\" Zedd called. He quickly reached into one of the wagons and retrieved something he didn't want to be destroyed. He slipped it into a pocket. \"All right, let's go.\"\n\nOutside the tent, the camp was in pandemonium. Elite guards, in a state of high alert and with weapons drawn, raced past on their way toward the command tents. Other men ran to the ring of barricades. Trumpets blared alarms and coded messages that directed men to tasks. Zedd feared his small group might beset upon and held for questioning.\n\nInstead of waiting for that to happen, Chase reached out and snatched a soldier running past. \"What's the matter with you? Get me some protection for these prisoners until I can get them to a safe place! The emperor will have our heads if we allow them to be recaptured!\"\n\nThe soldier quickly collected a dozen men and fell in around Rikka, Sister Tahirah, Chase, Rachel, and Zedd. Rachel was doing a convincing job of bawling in fear. For effect, Chase would occasionally give her a shake and yell at her to shut up." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Zedd glanced back over his shoulder, seeing the sun touch the horizon. He growled at Rikka, out ahead, for her to pickup her pace.\n\nAt the barricades, scowling guards looked them over carefully as they approached and then opened their ranks. They were preventing anyone from getting in, and were momentarily confused by such a company of their own men with prisoners making their way out. One man decided to step out to stop and question them.\n\nChase straight-armed him. \"Idiot! Out of our way! Emperor's orders!\"\n\nThe man frowned as he stared at the procession sweeping past. While he considered what to do, they were past and gone, swallowed up in the larger camp.\n\nIn moments, they were out of the heart of the camp. In short order, regular soldiers, seeing Rikka at the lead, moved to block their path. A beautiful woman out among the regular soldiers was asking for trouble, and with the confusion the men saw in the command area, they believed they had an opportunity while those in authority were busy. Rikka and Chase kept their small group moving at a quick pace. The grinning soldiers closed ranks, blocking the way. One of the men, missing his two front teeth, took a step out in front of his men. With one thumb hooked behind his belt, he held up the other hand.\n\n\"Hold on there. I think the ladies would like to stay fora visit.\"\n\nWithout pause, Rachel reached under the hem of her dress and pulled a knife. She didn't slow or even look back as she flipped the knife up over her shoulder. In one fluid motion, without missing a step, Chase caught the knife by the tip and heaved it at the toothless man. With a thunk, the knife slammed hilt-deep into the man's forehead." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Ashe was still toppling back, Rachel flipped a second knife up over her shoulder." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Chase caught it and sent it on its way. As the second man twisted toward the ground, dead, the rest of the men backed away to let the small group, marching onward, in among them. Deadly rights within the Imperial Order camp were not a rarity.\n\nElite guards or not, the soldiers were confident in their numbers and, with a beautiful woman in their midst, sure of what they wanted. Men all around closed in.\n\nZedd snatched a quick glance back. \"Now! Hit the ground!\"\n\nRikka, Chase, Rachel, and Zedd dove to the dirt.\n\nFor an instant, everyone above them froze, staring in surprise. The soldiers who were accompanying them, weapons already drawn for the fight they expected, also stopped and stood in confusion.\n\nSister Tahirah saw her opportunity and cried out. \"Help! These people are-\"\n\nThe world ignited with brilliant white light.\n\nAn instant later a thunderous blast rocked the ground. A wall of debris followed, driven before a roar of noise.\n\nMen were blown into the air. Some were cut down by flying wreckage. The elite guards that had escorted them tumbled through the air over Zedd.\n\nSister Tahirah had turned toward the flash. A wagon wheel shot toward them at incredible speed, hitting her chest-high, cutting her in two. The bloodied wheel sailed onward without even being slowed. The Sister's shredded remains were flung across the ground along with the bodies of countless men.\n\nAs the blast from behind still rumbled, the screams of terribly wounded men rose into the lingering rays of sunset.\n\nZedd dearly hoped that Adie had not wasted anytime in escaping.\n\nChase seized Zedd's robes atone shoulder and hauled him to his feet as he swept Rachel up in his other arm. Rikka grabbed Zedd's robes at the other shoulder and pulled him ahead. Together, Zedd's two rescuers rushed with him into the carnage." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rachel hid her face in Chase's shoulder.\n\nZedd was about to ask Chase why in the world he would teach a young girl such things with knives when he recalled that he himself had been the one who had once commanded Chase to the task of teaching her everything the boundary warden knew.\n\nRachel was a special person. Zedd had wanted her to be prepared for what life might have in store.\n\n\"You should have let me make the Sister takeoff that collar when we had the chance,\" Rikka said as they ran.\n\n\"If we had taken the time,\" Zedd answered, \"we would have been back there and caught up in that fireball.\"\n\n\"I suppose,\" she said.\n\nAs they slowed a bit to catch their breath, men ran in every direction. In the confusion and disorder, no one noticed that the four of them were making good their escape. As they hastily made their way through the vast Imperial Order encampment, Zedd put an arm around Rikka's shoulders and pulled her closer.\n\n\"Thank you for coming to save my life.\"\n\nShe flashed him a cunning smile. \"I wouldn't leave you to those pigs-not after all you've done for us. Besides, Lord Rahl has Cara protecting him; I'm sure he would want a Mord-Sith protecting his grandfather as well.\"\n\nZedd had been right. The world was turned upside down.\n\n\"We have horses and supplies hidden,\" Chase said. \"On our way out of this place, we'd better take a horse for Rikka.\"\n\nRachel looked back over Chase's shoulder, her arms around his neck. She gave Zedd a serious frown as she whispered, \"Chase is unhappy because he had to leave all his weapons behind and be so lightly armed.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Zedd glanced to the battle-axe atone hip, the sword at Chase's other, and two knives at the small of his back. \"Yes, I can see where being so defenseless would make a man grumpy.\"\n\n\"I don't like this place,\" Rachel whispered in Chase's ear.\n\nHe patted her back as she laid her head on his shoulder. \"We'll be back in the woods in no time, little one.\"\n\nAmid the screams and death, it was as tender a sight as Zedd could imagine." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Verna paused when the sentry rushed up in the dark. She moved her hands upon the reins, closer to the bit, to keep her horse from spooking.\n\n\"Prelate-I think it might bean attack of some sort,\" the soldier said in breathless worry.\n\nShe frowned at the man. \"What might bean attack? What is it?\"\n\n\"There's something coming up the road.\" He pointed back toward Dobbin Pass. \"A wagon, I think.\"\n\nThe enemy was always sending things at them-men sneaking through the darkness, horses encased in spells designed to blow a breach in their shields running wildly toward them, innocent enough wagons with archers hiding inside, powerful spell-driven winds laced with magic conjuring of every sort.\n\n\"Since it's dark, the commander thinks it's suspicious and we shouldn't take any chances.\"\n\n\"Sounds wise,\" Verna said.\n\nShe had to get back to their camp. She had made the rounds herself to get a good look at their defenses, to seethe men at the outposts, before their nightly meeting back at camp to go over the day's reports.\n\n\"The commander wants to destroy the wagon before it gets too close. I've checked, Prelate-there are no other Sisters at hand. If you don't want to see to this, we can have the men up above drop a rockslide on the wagon and crush it.\"\n\nVerna had to get back to meet with the officers. \"You had better tell your commander to take care of it in whatever manner he sees fit.\"\n\nThe soldier saluted with snap of a fist to his heart.\n\nVerna pulled her horse around and put afoot into the stirrup. Why would the Imperial Order think they could get a wagon through, especially at night? Certainly, they weren't foolish enough to think it wouldn't be seen in the dark. She paused and looked at the soldier hurrying away." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Wait.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He stopped and turned. \"I changed my mind. I'll go with you.\"\n\nIt was foolish to use the rocks they had ready overhead; they might need them if a full-scale attack suddenly charged up this pass. It was silly to waste such a defense.\n\nShe followed the man up the trail to the lookout point where his company waited. The men were all watching through the trees. The road out ahead and below them looked silver in the light of the rising moon.\n\nVerna inhaled the fragrance of balsam firs as she watched the wagon making its way up the silvery road, being pulled by a single, plodding horse. Tense archers waited at the ready. They had a shielded lantern standing by to light fire arrows in order to set the wagon ablaze.\n\nVerna didn't see anyone in the wagon. An empty wagon seemed pretty suspicious. She recalled the strange message from Ann, warning her to let an empty wagon through.\n\nBut they had already done that. Verna recalled that the girl with the message from Jagang had come in by this route and method. Verna's heart pounded in worry at the thought of what new message Jagang might be sending, now.\n\nPerhaps it was Zedd's and Adie's heads.\n\n\"Hold,\" she called to the archers. \"Let it through, but stand at the ready in case it's a trick.\"\n\nVerna made her way down the narrow path between the trees. She stood behind a screen of spruce, watching. When the wagon was close enough, she opened a small gap in the weave of the vast shield she and the Sisters had spun across the pass. The pattern of magic was barbed with every nasty sort of magic they could conjure. This pass was small enough that the shields alone could hold it, and if the enemy did come, it was too small for any numbers to come all at once. Even without the formidable shield, the pass was relatively easy to hold." }, { "from": "human", "value": "When the wagon passed through the shield, Verna closed the hole." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When it rolled close enough, one of the men ran out of the trees and look control of the horse. As the wagon drew to a halt, dozens of archers behind him and on the other side, behind Verna, drew their weapons. Verna had spun a web of magic and she was prepared to unleash it at the slightest provocation.\n\nThe tarp in the bed of the wagon eased back. A little girl sat up. It was the child who had brought the message the last time. Her face lit up at seeing Verna, someone she recognized.\n\nVerna's heart skipped a beat at the thought of what the message might be, this time.\n\n\"I brought some friends,\" the girl said.\n\nPeople lying in the back of the wagon pulled the tarp aside and started sitting up. They looked like parents with their frightened children.\n\nVerna blinked in shock when she saw some of the people help Adie up. The sorceress looked to be exhausted. Her black and gray hair was no longer parted neatly in the middle, but was in as much disarray as Zedd's usually was.\n\nVerna rushed over, leaning into help the woman. \"Adie! Oh, Adie, am I ever glad to see you!\"\n\nThe old sorceress smiled. \"I be awfully happy to see you, too, Verna.\"\n\nVerna's gaze swept over the people in the wagon, her heart still pounding with apprehension. \"Where's Zedd?\"\n\n\"He escaped as well.\"\n\nVerna closed her eyes with a silent prayer of gratitude.\n\nHer eyes popped open. \"If he escaped, then where is he?\"\n\n\"Hebe on his way back to the Keep, in Aydindril,\" Adie said in her raspy voice. \"The enemy has captured it.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We heard.\"\n\n\"That old man intends to have his Keep back.\"\n\n\"Knowing Zedd, I feel sorry for anyone who gets in his way.\"\n\n\"Rikka be with him.\"\n\n\"Rikka! What was she doing over there? I ordered her not to do that!\" Verna realized how that must have sounded. \"We thought it would be pointless, that she wouldn't have a chance and we would just lose her for nothing.\"\n\n\"Rikka be Mord-Sith. She has a mind of her own.\"\n\nVerna shook her head. \"Well, even though she wasn't supposed to do that, now that I see you again and know Zedd has escaped as well, I'm glad that that obstinate woman didn't listen tome.\"\n\n\"Captain Zimmer be on his way back as well.\"\n\n\"Captain Zimmer!\"\n\n\"Yes, he and some of his men decided to come to rescue us as well. They becoming back the way they travel, unseen in the night.\" Adie gestured to the surrounding trees. \"They be up around us, protecting the wagon on our way in. The captain feared that some of the enemy might stop the wagon and capture us allover again. He wanted to make sure we be safe.\"\n\nThe captain and his men had special signals that allowed them to move through the pass without being attacked by their own men, or the Sisters, by mistake. The nature of the way Captain Zimmer and his men worked was that they were, for the most part, outside regular command. Kahlan had set it up that way so they could act on their own initiative. While it could at times be aggravating, those men accomplished more than anyone ever expected.\n\n\"Zedd wanted me to help these people escape.\" Adie gave Verna a meaningful look. \"There be others we could not help.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Verna glanced over at the people huddling together at the back of the wagon. \"I can only imagine what Jagang has been doing with people like that.\"\n\n\"No,\" Adie said. \"I doubt you can.\"\n\nVerna changed to an even more horrifying subject. \"Has Jagang been able to find anything from the Keep, so far, that he will use against us?\"\n\n\"Thankfully, no. Zedd set a spell that destroyed the things stolen from the Keep. There be a big explosion in the middle of their camp.\"\n\n\"Like the one back in Aydindril that killed so many of them?\"\n\n\"No, but it still caused much destruction and killed some important people-even some of Jagang's Sisters, I believe.\"\n\nVerna never thought she would seethe day that she would be pleased to hear that Sisters of the Light had died. Those women were controlled by the dream walker, and even when they had been offered freedom, they had been too afraid to believe those trying to rescue them. They had chosen to remain Jagang's slaves.\n\nWith a sudden thought, Verna grabbed a fistful of Adie's robes. \"Could the spell Zedd ignited possibly have taken out Jagang?\"\n\nWith her completely white eyes, Adie looked backup Dobbin Pass toward the Imperial Order camp. \"I wish I had better news, Prelate, but Captain Zimmer, on the way out, told me that just as we were about to be rescued, an assassin managed to get deep into the inner camp.\"\n\n\"An assassin? Who was it? Where was he from?\"\n\n\"None of us knows. He appeared much like others from the Old World. The intruder be driven by a single-minded determination to get to Jagang and kill him. He somehow made it into the inner defenses, killed some people, and took the uniform of the elite guards so he might get to Jagang. The guards somehow recognized he not be one of their own. They hacked the man to pieces before he could get close to the emperor." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Jagang left the area until his men could check over their defenses and make sure there be no more assassins about." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Many of the Sisters went with him, helping with his safeguards. That be when Zedd set off the sunset spell. We did not know Jagang had left the area, but it would have make no difference. Zedd had to use the spell when it be put before him. The spell be triggered by the sun setting.\"\n\nVerna nodded. Fora moment, she had been hoping...\n\n\"Still, you and Zedd escaped, and that's what matters for now. Thank the Creator.\"\n\n\"A surprising number of people showed up all at once to rescue us.\" Adie lifted an eyebrow. \"I do not recall seeing the Creator among them.\"\n\nThe warm breeze ruffled Verna's curly hair. \"I suppose not, but you know what I mean.\"\n\nThe crickets in the woods kept up their steady chirping. Life seemed to be a little sweeter, their situation a little less hopeless.\n\nShe let out a sigh. \"I hope the Creator will at least help Zedd and Rikka take back the Keep.\"\n\n\"Zedd will not need the Creator's help,\" Adie said. \"Another man showed up to help get us out. Chase bean old friend of Zedd, me, and Richard. Chase will have those holding the Keep praying for the protection of the Creator.\"\n\n\"Then we can look forward to the day the Keep is back in our hands and Jagang is denied help in breaking through the passes into D'Hara.\"\n\nVerna waved her arm, signaling, and the four couples standing at the back of the wagon shuffled forward with their children.\n\n\"Welcome to D'Hara,\" Verna told them. \"You will be safe, here.\"\n\n\"Thank you for helping get us out,\" one of the men said with a bow of his head to Adie. \"I feel ashamed, now, of the terrible things I had been thinking of you.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Adie smiled to herself as she tightened her thin fingers on his shoulder." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"True. But I could not blame you.\"\n\nThe girl who had brought the message the last time tugged on Verna's dress. \"This is my mother and father. I told them how nice you were tome, before.\"\n\nVerna squatted down and hugged the girl. \"Welcome back, child. Welcome back.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Whenever a breath of wind sighed among the branches above, silvery streamers of moonlight cascading down through the forest canopy glided about in the darkness like ghosts on the prowl. Kahlan peered around, barely able to make out the somber shapes of the looming trees as she tried to see if there was anything that did not belong. She heard no chirps of bugs, no small animals scurrying among the leaf litter, no mockingbirds singing throughout the night as there had been. Carefully picking her way over the mossy ground, she did her best to see in the gloom so as not to step in holes and cracks in the rocky places or pools of standing water in the low areas.\n\nAhead of her, Richard slipped through the open forest like a shadow. At times he seemed to disappear, causing her to fear that he might no longer be with them. He had ordered everyone following behind him not to talk and to walk as quietly as possible, but none of them could move through the woods as silently as he did.\n\nFor some reason, Richard was as tense as his bowstring. He felt that something was wrong, but he didn't know what. While it might seem a beautiful moonlit night in the woods, the way Richard was acting, on top of the haunting silence, had draped a pall of foreboding over everyone.\n\nKahlan was at least pleased that the skies had cleared. The rains of recent days had made travel not just difficult, but miserable. While it hadn't really been cold, the wet made it feel so. Taking shelter had not been an option. Until they had the final dose of the antidote, they had no choice but to press on.\n\nThe antidote from Northwick had improved Richard's condition a little, in addition to stopping the advance of the symptoms of his poisoning, but now the temporary improvement was dissipating. Kahlan was so worried for him that she had no appetite." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They now had well over double the number of men with them, and many more than that were making their way toward the city of Hawton by different routes. Those other groups of men planned to eliminate the lesser detachments of Imperial Order soldiers stationed in villages along the way. Richard, Kahlan, and their smaller group were pushing toward Hawton as rapidly as possible, deliberately avoiding contact with the enemy so as to get there before Nicholas and his soldiers knew they were on their way. Stealth would afford them the best chance of recovering the final dose of the antidote.\n\nOnce they had the antidote, then they could gather with the rest of the men for an attack. Kahlan knew that if they could first eliminate Nicholas it would make it much easier, and less risky, to defeat the remaining Imperial Order troops. If she could somehow find away to get close to Nicholas she could touch him with her power. She knew better than to suggest such an idea to Richard; he would never go along with it.\n\nTo a certain extent, Kahlan felt responsible for what these people had suffered under the Imperial Order. After all, if not for her freeing the chimes, the boundary protecting Bandakar would still be in place. Yet, if these people could rid themselves of the Imperial Order, the changes that had come about also meant the true freedom they had never really enjoyed and, with it, the opportunity for better lives.\n\nThe change in the people in Northwick had been heartening to witness. That night, the men Richard and Kahlan had brought had stayed upmost of the night talking to the people there, explaining the things Richard and Kahlan had explained to them. The morning after the annihilation of the soldiers who had taken over their city and held them in the grip of fear, the people had celebrated by singing and dancing in the streets. Those people had learned not only just how precious freedom really was, but also that their old ways provided no real tools for improving the quality of their lives." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After Richard had dissolved the ancient illusions of the Wise One's wisdom and the meaningless tenets the speakers substituted for knowledge, and after the killing of the enemy soldiers, the men of Northwick had not been shy about volunteering to help rid their land of the Imperial Order. Freed from the enforced blindness of a repressive mindset, many now hungered aloud fora future of their own making.\n\nKahlan unexpectedly came up against Richard's outstretched arm. She put a hand to her chest, over her galloping heart, then immediately turned and passed the signal to stop back to those behind. There was still no sound in the dark woods-not so much as the buzz of a mosquito.\n\nRichard slipped his pack off of his back, set it on a low rock, and started quietly searching through it.\n\nKahlan leaned close to whisper. \"What are you doing?\"\n\n\"Fire. We need light. Pass the word back for some of the men to get out torches.\"\n\nWhile Richard pulled out a steel and flint, Kahlan whispered instructions to Cara, who in turn passed them back. In short order, several men tiptoed forward with torches.\n\nThe men gathered in close, squatting down beside a low jumble of rock next to Richard. He picked a stickup off the ground and dipped it in a small container from his pack. He then wiped the stick across the top of a high point on the rock.\n\n\"I'm putting some pine resin on this rock,\" he told the men. \"Hold your torches over it so that when I strike a spark and the resin flames up, it will light the torches.\"\n\nPine resin, painstakingly collected from rotting trees, was valuable for starting fires in the rain. A spark would ignite it even when wet. It burned hot enough to often be able to catch damp wood on fire." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Richard had always seemed at home in the dark. Kahlan had never seen him need to have light like this. She stared intently out into the night, wondering what it was he thought might be out there that they couldn't see.\n\n\"Cara,\" Richard whispered, \"pass the word back. I want everyone to get out a weapon. Now.\"\n\nWithout hesitation, Cara turned to pass on the orders. After a seemingly endless span of silence, broken only by the soft whisper of steel sliding past leather, word came back and she leaned down toward Richard. \"Done.\"\n\nRichard looked up at Kahlan and Jennsen. \"Both of you, as well.\"\n\nKahlan drew her sword, Jennsen her silver-handled dagger with the ornate letter R that stood for the House of Rahl.\n\nRichard struck the spark. The pine pitch flamed up with an angry hiss; the torches caught; light ignited in the heart of the dark forest.\n\nIn the sudden, harsh glare, everyone turned and looked about to see what might be hiding in the darkness around them.\n\nMen gasped.\n\nIn the trees all around them, perched on branches everywhere, sat black-tipped races. Hundreds of them. Beady black eyes watched the people.\n\nIn that moment of sudden bright light, everything but the flickering flame was silent and still.\n\nWith a burst of wild cries, the races launched their attack.\n\nFrom all around, all at once, the races descended on them. The night air suddenly filled with a riot of glossy black feathers, the sweep of huge wings, hooked beaks, and reaching talons. After such along silence, the sound of piercing cries and beating wings was deafening.\n\nEverywhere, the people met the attack with fierce determination. Some of the men were knocked to the ground, or stumbled and fell. Others cried out as they tried to protect themselves with one arm while driving off the attack with the other. Men hacked at the races atop their friends and turned toward off other screeching beasts that flew in toward them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kahlan saw the red-striped breast of a race abruptly appear right before her face. She swung her sword, lopping off awing, and spun around, bringing the sword up to hit another bird coming in from the other side. She stabbed a race on the ground at her feet as it reached in with its beak, like a vulture, to try to rip flesh from her leg.\n\nRichard's sword was a blur of silver slashing through the winged attackers. A cloud of black feathers surrounded him. The birds were attacking everyone, but the assault appeared to be centered around Richard. It almost seemed as if the races were trying to drive the people back from Richard so that more of the birds could get at him.\n\nJennsen frantically stabbed at birds going for him. Kahlan swung at others, knocking them to the ground, wounded or dead. With measured efficiency, Cara snatched them out of the air and swiftly wrung their necks.\n\nEverywhere, men stabbed, cut, and hacked at the onslaught of fierce raptors. Some men used their torches as weapons. The night was filled with the screams of the birds, with the flapping of wings, with the thud of weapons striking home. Birds tumbled and fellas they were hit. More dove into take their place. The trees all around poured the monstrous birds down on them. Wounded and dying birds struggling on the ground made the forest floor a writhing sea of black feathers.\n\nThe ferocity of the attack was frightening.\n\nAnd then, it was suddenly over.\n\nA few of the birds on the ground, wings spread, still tried to getup, their feathers making a silken rasp as they rubbed against the feathers of dead birds beneath them. Here and there men stabbed or chopped at a bird still alive on the ground at their feet. It wasn't long before all the creatures finally went still. No more races came from the sky." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dead races mounded up against Richard like snow drifted in a storm.\n\nMen panted as they held torches aloft. They peered into the darkness beyond the light, looking for any sign of more trouble from above. But for the hissing of the torches, the night was silent. The branches of the trees all around appeared to be empty.\n\nKahlan could see scratches and cuts on Richard's arms and hands. She waded through the sea of dead birds to get to his pack sitting on a nearby rock. The forest floor around him was nearly knee-deep with dead races. She had to flip a dead bird off Richard's pack. Pushing her hand down into his pack, she blindly searched until her fingers found a folded waxed paper that contained a salve.\n\nCara rushed in close to Richard when she saw him unsteady on his feet. She grasped his arm, lending him support.\n\n\"What in the world was that all about?\" Jennsen asked, panting, still catching her breath as she pulled strands of red ringlets off her sweaty face.\n\n\"I guess they finally decided to try to get us,\" Owen said.\n\nJennsen patted Betty's head when the goat stepped unhurt through the corpses of races to get in closer to her friends. \"One thing for sure is that they finally found us again.\"\n\n\"There was an important difference this time,\" Richard said. \"They weren't following us. They were here, waiting for us.\"\n\nEveryone stared at him.\n\n\"What do you mean?\" Kahlan paused at daubing salve on his cuts. \"They've followed us before. They must have seen us.\"\n\nBetty moved in closer, leaning against Kahlan's leg to stand and watch her and Richard talking. Kahlan wasn't in the mood to be scratching the goat's ears, so she pushed her out of the way." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Richard laid a hand on Cara's shoulder to steady himself. Kahlan noticed how he swayed on his feet. At times he was having difficulty standing.\n\n\"No. They haven't been following us. The skies have been empty.\" Richard gestured to the dead birds all around him. \"These races weren't following us. They were waiting for us. They knew we were coming here. They lay in wait.\"\n\nThat was a chilling thought-if it was true.\n\nKahlan straightened, holding the waxed paper in one hand; a finger of her other hand, loaded with salve, waiting. \"How could they possibly know where we were going?\"\n\n\"That's what I'd like to know,\" Richard said.\n\nNicholas glided back into his body, his mouth still opened wide in a yawn that was not a yawn. He stretched his neck to one side and then the other. He smiled with his delight in the game. It had been dazzling. It had been delicious. His widening grin bared his teeth.\n\nNicholas staggered to his feet, wavering unsteadily fora moment. It reminded him of the way Richard Rahl swayed on his feet, dizzy with the effects of a poison that was inexorably doing its deadly work.\n\nPoor Richard Rahl needed the last dose of the antidote.\n\nNicholas opened his mouth again in a yawn that was not a yawn, twisting his head, eager to be away, eager to learn more. He would return soon enough. He would watch them. Watch them as they worried, as they struggled in vain to understand what was happening, watch them as they approached. They would reach him in mere hours.\n\nThe fun was truly about to begin.\n\nNicholas wound his way across the room, stepping between the bodies sprawled everywhere. They had all died suddenly when the races were killed. Here and there the dead were stacked in piles atop one another, the way the races in those dark woods had been heaped around Richard Rahl." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Such violent deaths. Those spirits had been horrified as they were slaughtered, but there was nothing they could do to stop it.\n\nNicholas had controlled their souls, their fate. Now they were beyond his control; they now belonged to the Keeper of the dead.\n\nNicholas ran his fingernails back through his hair, shivering with delight as he felt the slick oils glide through his fingers and against his palm.\n\nHe had to drag three bodies aside before he could get at the door. He threw the heavy latch over and opened the thick door.\n\n\"Najari!\"\n\nThe man stood not faraway, leaning against the wall, waiting. His muscular form straightened.\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\nNicholas opened his arm back in graceful indication, his fingers tipped with black nails stretching wide. \"There is a mess inhere that needs to be cleaned up. Get some men and have these bodies taken away.\"\n\nNajari stepped to the door and stretched his neck to peer into the room.\n\n\"The whole crowd we brought in?\"\n\n\"Yes.\" Nicholas snapped. \"I needed them all, and some more I had the soldiers fetch for me. I'm done with them all, now. Get rid of them.\"\n\nWhen the races had attacked, each had been driven by the soul of one of these ungifted people, and each of those souls had been driven by Nicholas. It had been a stupendous achievement-the simultaneous command of so many with such precision and coordination. When the races had been killed, though, so, too, died the bodies back in the room with Nicholas.\n\nHe supposed that one day he really should learn how to callback such spirits when their hosts died. It would save him from having to get new ones each time. But people were plentiful. Besides, if he were to find away to call them back, then he would have to mind the people once their spirits returned, after they had learned his use of them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Still, it was annoying when Richard Rahl killed those Nicholas used to help him watch.\n\n\"How much longer?\" Najari asked.\n\nNicholas smiled, knowing what the man was curious about. \"Soon. Very soon. You must get these people out of here before they arrive. Then, keep our men out of the way. Let them do as they will.\"\n\nNajari flashed a cunning smile. \"As you wish, Nicholas.\"\n\nNicholas lifted an eyebrow. \"Emperor Nicholas.\"\n\nNajari chuckled as he started away to get his men. \"Emperor Nicholas.\"\n\n\"You know, Najari, I've been thinking.\"\n\nNajari turned back. \"About what?\"\n\n\"About Jagang. We've worked so hard. What reason is therefor me to bow to him? A legion of my silent army could swoop in upon him and that would be that. I wouldn't even need an army. He could mount his horse one day, and I could be therein the beast, waiting to throw him and trample him to death.\"\n\nNajari rubbed his stubble. \"True enough.\"\n\n\"Of what use is Jagang, really? I could just as easily rule the Imperial Order. In fact, I would be better suited to it.\"\n\nNajari cocked his head. \"Then what of the plans we've already laid?\"\n\nNicholas shrugged. \"Why change them? But why should I give the Mother Confessor to Jagang? And why let him have the world? Perhaps I will keep her for my own amusement... and have the world as well.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Richard pressed his backup against the clapboard wall. He had to pause a moment, waiting for the world to stop spinning. He was so cold he felt numb. As dark as it was, he was having difficulty seeing.\n\nBut it was more than the darkness.\n\nHe knew that his sight was beginning to fail him.\n\nAt night it was worse. He had always been able to see better at night than most other people. Now, he was no better able to see at night than Kahlan. That wasn't a big difference, but he knew it was meaningful.\n\nThe third state of the poison had begun.\n\nFortunately, they were close to having the final dose.\n\n\"This is the alleyway, here,\" Owen whispered.\n\nRichard looked up and down the street. He didn't see anything moving. The city of Hawton was asleep. He wished he could be, too. He was so exhausted and dizzy he could hardly put one foot in front of the other. He had to take shallow breaths to keep from coughing. Coughing brought on the worst pain. At least he wasn't coughing up blood.\n\nCoughing now, though, could be fatal, so he swallowed, trying to stifle the urge. If they made any noise, it might alert the soldiers.\n\nWhen Owen moved into the alleyway, Richard, Kahlan, Cara, Jennsen, Tom, Anson, and a handful of their men followed in single file.\n\nThere had been no lights burning in the windows facing the streets. As the small group moved through the alley close to the walls, Richard saw no windows. A few of the walls did have doors.\n\nAt a narrow space between buildings, Owen turned in, following the brick path hardly wider than Richard's shoulders." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Richard seized Owen by the arm. \"Is this the only way in?\"\n\n\"No. See there? The walkway goes through to the street in front, and there is another door inside that comes upon the other side of the building.\"\n\nSatisfied that they had alternative escape routes, Richard gave Owen a nod. They took the dark stairwell down to a room at the bottom under the building. Tom struck flint to steel a number of times until he managed to light a candle.\n\nOnce the candle was lit, Richard gazed around at the small, empty, windowless room. \"What is this place?\"\n\n\"The basement of a palace,\" Owen said.\n\nRichard frowned at the man. \"What are we doing here?\"\n\nOwen hesitated and glanced at Kahlan.\n\nKahlan saw the look. She pushed Richard down until he sat and leaned back against the wall. A footsore Betty squeezed between them and lay down beside Richard, pleased to have a rest. Jennsen squatted close, on the other side of Betty. Cara closed him in from the other side.\n\nKahlan knelt in front of him and then sat back on her heels. \"Richard, I asked Owen to bring us here-to a place where we would be safe. We can't all go into that building to get the antidote.\"\n\n\"I suppose not. That's a good idea. Owen and I will go; the rest of you can stay here where no one will spot you.\"\n\nHe started to getup, but Kahlan pushed him back down. \"Richard, you have to wait here. You can't go. You're dizzy. You need to save your strength.\"\n\nRichard gazed into her green eyes, eyes that always captivated him, always made everything else but her seem unimportant. He wished they could be alone somewhere peaceful, like the home he had built for her back in the mountains where he had taken her to recover after she had been hurt... when she had lost their unborn child after being beaten nearly to death by those brutes." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She was the most precious thing alive. She was everything. He wanted so much for her to be safe.\n\n\"I'm strong enough,\" he said. \"I'll be fine.\"\n\n\"If you start coughing in that place where the soldiers are, then you'll be caught and never get out-much less recover the antidote. You and Owen would both be caught. There is no telling how many soldiers are in there. What will happen to us if you're caught? What would happen if...\" Her voice trailed off. She hooked astray strand of hair behind an ear. \"Look, Richard, Owen went in there before; he can go in there again.\"\n\nRichard saw desperation in her eyes. She was terrified of losing him. He hated that he was making her afraid.\n\n\"That's right, Lord Rahl,\" Owen assured him. \"I will get the antidote and bring it to you.\"\n\n\"While we're waiting, you can get some rest,\" Kahlan said. \"Some sleep would do you more good than anything else until they bring back the antidote.\"\n\nRichard couldn't debate how tired he was. He still didn't like the idea of not going himself.\n\n\"Tom could go with him,\" Cara suggested.\n\nRichard looked up into Cara's blue eyes. He looked up into Kahlan's eyes. He knew he had already lost this argument.\n\n\"How far is this place?\" Richard asked Owen.\n\n\"A goodly distance. Here, we are just at the fringe of the city. I wanted to take us to a place where we would be less likely to encounter soldiers. The antidote is at most an hour distant. I thought it best if we were not too far into the city if we had to get back out, but we are close enough so that you will not have long to wait for the antidote.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Richard nodded. \"All right. We'll wait here for you and Tom.\"\n\nKahlan paced in the small, damp basement as the others sat against the wall, waiting in silence. She couldn't stand the tension. It felt too much like a deathwatch.\n\nThey were so close that it made it seem impossibly far. They had waited so long that the small amount of time left seemed an eternity that would never end. Kahlan told herself to calm down. Shortly, Richard would have the antidote. He would be better, then. He would be cured of the poison, then.\n\nBut what if it didn't work? What if he had already waited so long that he was beyond any cure? No, the man who had made the poison and the antidote had told Owen that this last dose would cure Richard of the poison for good. Because of the beliefs of these people, they would be certain that the poison was reversible. They would never have used it if they believed it would risk a life.\n\nBut what if what they believed was wrong?\n\nKahlan rubbed her shoulders as she paced, and admonished herself to stop inventing problems to worry about. They had enough real problems without letting her imagination get carried away. They would get the antidote and then they would address the problem with Richard's gift. After that, they had to turn their attention to larger issues of Jagang and his army.\n\nWhen Kahlan glanced over and saw that Richard had fallen sound asleep, she decided to go outside and watch for Owen and Tom. Cara, leaning against the wall beside Richard, guarding him while he slept, nodded when Kahlan whispered to her, telling her where she was going. Jennsen, seeing that Kahlan was heading for the door, quietly followed her out. Betty had fallen asleep beside Richard, so Jennsen left her there." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The moonlit night had cooled. Kahlan thought she should be sleepy, but she was wide awake. She followed the brick path out between the buildings toward the alley.\n\n\"Owen will be back soon,\" Jennsen said. \"Try not to worry. It will be over, soon.\"\n\nKahlan glanced over in the dark. \"Even after he has the antidote, we still have his gift to worry about. Zedd is too far. We're going to have to get to Nicci right away. She is the only one close enough that might know what to do to help him.\"\n\n\"Do you think the trouble with his gift is getting worse?\"\n\nKahlan was haunted by the pain she so often saw in his eyes. But there was more to it.\n\n\"When he used the sword the last two times I could see that even the sword's magic had failed him. He's in more trouble with his gift than he will admit.\"\n\nJennsen chewed her lower lip as she watched Kahlan pace. \"Tonight he will have the antidote,\" she finally said in soft assurance. \"Soon, we can be on our way to Nicci.\"\n\nKahlan turned when she thought she heard a noise in the distance. It had sounded like the crunch of a footstep. Two dark figures appeared off at the end of the alleyway. By the way one of them towered over the other, Kahlan was pretty sure that it was Tom and Owen. She wanted to run to meet them, but she knew how deadly tricks could be, so she drew Jennsen back with her around the corner of the building, into the darkest part of the shadows. This was no time to get careless.\n\nWhen the two men reached the narrow walkway and started to turn in. Kahlan stepped out in front of them, prepared to unleash her power if necessary." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Mother Confessor-it's me, Tom, and Owen,\" Tom whispered.\n\nJennsen let out a breath. \"Are we ever glad to see you back.\"\n\nOwen looked both ways down the alley. When he turned to check, Kahlan saw moonlight reflect off tears running down his face.\n\n\"Mother Confessor, we have trouble,\" Tom said.\n\nOwen spread his hands. \"Mother Confessor, I, I...\"\n\nKahlan grabbed his shirt in both fists. \"What's wrong? The antidote was there, wasn't it? You have it, don't you?\"\n\n\"No.\" Owen choked back his tears and pulled out a folded piece of paper. \"Instead of the bottle of antidote, I found this in its hiding place.\"\n\nKahlan snatched it out of his hands. With trembling fingers, she unfolded the paper. She turned as she held it close so she could read it in the light of the moon.\n\nI have the antidote. I also hold by a thread the lives of the people of Bandakar. I can end all their lives as easily as I can end the life of Richard Rahl. I will give over the antidote and the lives of all the people in this empire in exchange for the Mother Confessor.\n\nBring the Mother Confessor to the bridge over the river one mile to the east of where you are. In one hour, if I do not have the Mother Confessor, I will pour the antidote in the river and then I will see to it that all the people of this city die.\n\nSigned, Emperor Nicholas\n\nKahlan, her heart racing out of control, started east.\n\nTom grabbed her arm and held her back. \"Mother Confessor, I know what it says.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kahlan's hands wouldn't stop shaking. \"Then you know why I have no choice.\"\n\nJennsen put herself in front of Kahlan to stop her from starting out once again. \"What does the letter say?\"\n\n\"Nicholas wants me in exchange for the antidote.\"\n\nJennsen put her hands against Kahlan's shoulders to stop her. \"What?\"\n\n\"That's what the letter says. Nicholas wants me in exchange for the lives of everyone else in this empire and the antidote to save Richard's life.\"\n\n\"The lives of everyone else... but how could he carryout such a threat?\"\n\n\"Nicholas is a wizard. There are any number of deadly things available to such a man. If nothing else, he could use wizard's fire and incinerate the entire city.\"\n\n\"But his magic won't harm the people here-they're pristinely ungifted, the same as me.\"\n\n\"If he uses wizard's fire to set a building ablaze, like we did to those soldiers sleeping back in Owen's town, it won't matter to the people inside how the fire started. Once the buildings catch fire, then it's just regular fire-fire that will kill anyone. If not that, Nicholas has soldiers here. He could immediately start executing people. He could have thousands beheaded in hardly anytime at all. I can't even imagine what else he could do, but he put this letter where the antidote was hidden, so I know he's not bluffing.\"\n\nKahlan stepped around Jennsen and started out again. She couldn't make herself stop trembling. She tried to slow her racing heart, but that didn't work, either. Richard had to have the antidote. That was what mattered. She focused her attention ahead as she marched swiftly up the dark street." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Tom paced along beside her, opposite Jennsen. \"Mother Confessor, wait. We have to think this out.\"\n\n\"I already have.\"\n\n\"We can take a force of men to the meeting place-take the antidote by force.\"\n\nKahlan kept going. \"From a wizard? I don't think so. Besides, if Nicholas were to see such a force coming he would probably pour the antidote in the river. Then what? We have to do as he demands. We have to get our hands on the antidote, get it safely away from them.\"\n\n\"What makes you think that after Nicholas has you he won't then pour it in the river?\" Tom asked.\n\n\"We'll have to make the exchange in away that best insures we get the antidote. We aren't going to rely on his goodwill and honesty. Owen and Jennsen are pristinely ungifted. They won't be harmed by his magic. They can help make sure we get the antidote in the exchange.\"\n\nJennsen pulled her hair away from her face as she leaned close. \"Kahlan, you can't do this. You can't. Please, Richard will go crazy-we all will. Please, for his sake, don't do this.\"\n\n\"At least he will be alive to go crazy.\"\n\nTears streamed down Jennsen's face. \"But this is suicide!\"\n\nKahlan watched the buildings, the streets, making sure there were no troops to hem them in. \"Let's hope Nicholas thinks so, too.\"\n\n\"Mother Confessor,\" Owen pleaded, \"you can't do this. This is what Lord Rahl has shown us is wrong. You can't bargain with a manlike Nicholas. You can't try to appease evil.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I have no intention of appeasing Nicholas.\"\n\nJennsen wiped tears from her cheek. \"What do you mean?\"\n\nKahlan stiffened her resolve. \"What is our best chance of getting rid of the Imperial Order in this city-and all of Bandakar? Eliminating Nicholas. How better to get close to him than to make him think he has won?\"\n\nJennsen blinked in surprise. \"You intend to touch him with your power. That's what you're thinking, isn't it? You think you will have a chance to touch him with your Confessor power.\"\n\n\"If I get him in my sight, he's dead.\"\n\n\"Richard would never agree to this,\" Jennsen said.\n\n\"I'm not asking him. This is my decision.\"\n\nTom stepped in front of her, blocking the way. \"Mother Confessor, I'm sworn to protect the Lord Rahl, and I understand risking your life to protect him-but this is different. You maybe acting to try to save his life, but at what cost? We would lose too much. You can't do this.\"\n\nOwen moved around in front of her, too. \"I agree. Lord Rahl will be more than crazy if you exchange yourself for the antidote.\"\n\nJennsen nodded her agreement. \"He will kill us all. He will takeoff our heads for allowing you to do this.\"\n\nKahlan smiled at their tense expressions. She put a hand to the side of Jennsen's face.\n\n\"Remember back just after we'd met you, and I told you that there were times when there was no choice but to act?\"\n\nJennsen nodded, her tears returning.\n\n\"This is one of those times. Richard is getting sicker by the day. He's dying. If he doesn't get the antidote, he has no chance and will soon be dead. That's the truth of the way things are." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"How can we let this chance slip away from us?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There are no more opportunities after this. Our chances to save him will forever be lost. It will be the end. I don't want to live without him. I don't want the rest of our people to live without him.\n\n\"If I do this, then Richard will live. If Richard lives, then there will still be a chance for me, too. I can touch Nicholas with my power, or Richard and the rest of you can think of something to do to save me.\n\n\"But if Richard dies, then our chances end.\"\n\n\"But, Mother Confessor,\" Jennsen sobbed, \"if you do this, then we'll lose you...\"\n\nKahlan looked to each face, her anger rising. \"If any of you have a better idea, then put words to it. Otherwise, you are risking me losing the only chance left.\"\n\nNo one had anything to say. Kahlan was the only one with a realistic plan of action. The rest of them had only wishes. Wishing would not save Richard.\n\nKahlan started out once again, hurrying her pace to get therein time." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kahlan paused in the quiet darkness not far from the bridge. She could just make out what appeared to be a burly man standing on the other side. He was all alone. She couldn't see his face, or tell what he looked like. She scanned the far bank of the river, along with the trees and buildings she could make out in the moonlight, looking for soldiers, or anyone else.\n\nJennsen clutched her arm. \"Kahlan... please.\" Her voice was choked with tears.\n\nKahlan felt oddly calm. There were no options for her to weigh, so she suffered no gnawing indecision; there was only one choice. Richard lived, or he died. It was as simple as that. The choice was clear.\n\nHer mind was made up, and with that came clarity and determination. She could now focus on what she was to do.\n\nThe river through the city was larger than Kahlan had expected. The steep banks to each side, in this area, anyway, were a few dozen feet high and lined with stone blocks. The bridge itself, wide enough for wagons to pass each other, had two arches to make the span and side rails with simple stone caps. The waters below were dark and swift. It was not a river she would want to have to try to swim.\n\nKahlan approached as far as the foot of the bridge and stopped. The man on the other side watched her.\n\n\"Do you have the antidote?\" she called over to him.\n\nHe lifted what looked like a little bottle high above his head. He lowered the arm and pointed to the bridge. He wanted her to come across.\n\n\"Mother Confessor,\" Owen pleaded, \"won't you reconsider?\"\n\nShe gazed into his wet eyes. \" Reconsider what? If I will have Richard live rather than let him succumb to the poison? If I will try to kill Nicholas in order to make it possible to defeat them and for your people to have a better chance to free themselves? How would I ever live with myself if Richard died without the antidote and I knew there was something I could have done that would have saved him and also have given me a chance to get close enough to Nicholas to eliminate him?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I couldn't live with myself if I failed to do this.\n\n\"We are fighting this war to stop people like this, people who bring death upon us, people who want us dead because they cannot stand that we live our lives as we wish, that we are successful and happy. These people hate life; they worship death. They demand that we do the same and join them in their misery.\n\n\"As Mother Confessor, I decreed vengeance without mercy against the Imperial Order. Changing from our course is suicide. I will not reconsider.\"\n\n\"What would you have us tell Lord Rahl?\" Tom asked.\n\nShe smiled. \"That I love him, but he knows that.\"\n\nKahlan unbuckled her sword belt and handed it to Jennsen. \"Owen, come with me.\"\n\nKahlan started out, but Jennsen threw her arms around her and hugged her fiercely. \"Don't worry,\" she whispered. \"We'll get the antidote to Richard, and then we'll comeback for you.\"\n\nKahlan hugged Jennsen briefly, whispered her thanks, and then started onto the bridge. Owen walked at her side, saying nothing.\n\nThe man on the far side watched, but stayed where he was.\n\nIn the center of the bridge, Kahlan stopped. \"Bring the bottle,\" she called across.\n\n\"Come over here and you can have it.\"\n\n\"If you want me, you will come to the center of the bridge and give the bottle to this man to take back, as Nicholas offered.\"\n\nThe man stood fora time, as if considering. He looked like a soldier. He didn't match the description of Nicholas that Owen had given her. Finally, he started onto the arch of the bridge. Owen whispered that it looked like the commander he had seen with Nicholas. Kahlan waited, watching the man walk through the moonlight. He wore a knife atone side and a sword at his other hip." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When he had almost reached her, he came to a halt and waited.\n\nKahlan held her handout. \"The note said we were to trade. Me for what Nicholas has.\"\n\nThe man, his crooked nose flattened to the side, smiled. \"So we were.\"\n\n\"I am the Mother Confessor. Either give me the bottle or you die here, now.\"\n\nHe pulled the square-sided bottle from his pocket and placed it in her hand. Kahlan saw that it was full of clear liquid. She pulled the cork and smelled it. It had the slight aroma of cinnamon, as had the other bottles of the antidote.\n\n\"He goes back with this,\" Kahlan said to the grim-looking man as she handed Owen the bottle.\n\n\"And you come with me,\" the man said as he grabbed her wrist. \"Or we all die on this bridge. He may go, as agreed, but if you try to run you will die.\"\n\nKahlan glanced to Owen. \"Go,\" she growled.\n\nOwen looked over at the man with black hair, then back to her. He looked like he had a lotto say, but he nodded and then ran back over the bridge to where Tom and Jennsen stood waiting, watching.\n\nWhen Owen reached the other two, the man said, \"Let's go, unless you'd like to die here.\"\n\nKahlan yanked her arm back. When he turned and started out, she followed behind him as they crossed the rest of the way over the bridge. She scanned the shadows among the trees on the far side of the river, the thousand hiding places among buildings beyond, the streets in the distance. She didn't see anyone, but that didn't really make her feel any better." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nicholas was there, somewhere, hiding in the darkness, waiting to have her.\n\nSuddenly, the night lit up from behind. Kahlan spun and saw the bridge enveloped in a boiling ball of flame. The fire turned black as it billowed up. Stones sailed into the air above the inferno. As the luminous cloud rose, she could seethe bridge beneath the roaring fireball crumpling. The arches caved in on themselves and the entire structure began the long drop into the river.\n\nWith icy dread, Kahlan wondered if there were anymore bridges across the river. How would she get back to Richard if she succeeded? How was help going to get to her if she didn't?\n\nOn the far side, Kahlan could see Tom, Jennsen, and Owen running backup the road toward where Richard slept. They were not about to waste time watching abridge being destroyed. At the thought of Richard, Kahlan almost let out a sob.\n\nThe man unexpectedly shoved her. \"Move.\"\n\nShe glared at him, at his self-satisfied smile, at the smug confidence she saw in his eyes.\n\nAs she walked ahead of this man and he occasionally shoved her, Kahlan's temper was on a low boil. She had the urge to use her power and takeout the despicable brute, but she had to concentrate on the task at hand: Nicholas.\n\nWalking up the street leading away from the river, she was just able to make out soldiers hanging back in the shadows on the dark side streets, blocking every escape route. It didn't matter. At the moment, she wasn't interested in escape, but in her objective. The man behind her, as arrogantly as he was behaving, was also wary and treated her with cautious contempt." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The farther she walked into the city on the far side of the river, the closer the clusters of small buildings were packed together. Side streets of narrow twisting warrens ran off among the ramshackle structures. What trees there were grew crowded in close to the street. Their branches hung out over her like arms raised to snatch her in their claws. Kahlan tried not to think about how deep she was getting into enemy territory, and how many men were surrounding her.\n\nThe last time she had been surrounded and trapped by such savage men she had been beaten and bad come perilously close to dying. Her unborn child had died. Her child. Richard's child.\n\nShe had also lost a kind of innocence that day, a simplistic sense of her invincibility. In its place had come the understanding of how frail life was, how frail her own life was, and how easily it could be lost. She knew how much it had hurt Richard to fear he might lose her. She remembered the terrible agony in his eyes every time he had looked at her. It was completely different from the pain she saw in his eyes from his gift. It had been a helpless suffering for her. She hated the thought of that pain returning to haunt him.\n\nFrom the shadows to the right side, a man stepped out from behind a building. He wore black robes, covered in layers of what looked like strips of cloth, almost as if he were covered in black feathers. They lifted in the breeze created by his stride, lending him an unsettling, floating fluidity as he moved.\n\nHis hair was slicked back with oils that glistened in the moonlight. Close-set, small black eyes rimmed in red peered out at her from an altogether unwholesome face. He held his wrists to his chest, as if he were holding back claws tipped with black fingernails." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Advance the story as the writer's narrative assistant.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, imperialism\nAuthor: Terry Goodkind\nTitle: Naked Empire\nChapter: 66" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Owen looked puzzled. \"What do you mean? You said that you must not eat meat as the balance to the killing you sometimes must do. After the battle at the fortification, don't you need to balance your gift all the more?\"\n\nRichard took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he gazed out over the mountains.\n\n\"You see, the thing is,\" Richard said, \" I owe you all an apology. You all listened tome, but I didn't listen to myself.\n\n\"Kaja-Rang tried to help me with the words revealed on the statue, the words I told you-Deserve Victory. They were, first of all, meant for me.\"\n\n\"I don't understand,\" Anson said.\n\n\"I told you that your life is your own to live and that you have every right to defend it.\n\n\"Yet, I was telling myself that I had to balance the killing I did to defend my life and the lives of my loved ones by not eating meat-in essence, saying myself-defense, my killing of those who attack me and other innocent people, was morally wrong, and so for the killing I'd done I needed to make amends to the magic that helped me by offering it the appeasement of balance.\"\n\n\"But your sword's magic didn't work, either,\" Jennsen said.\n\n\"No, it didn't, and that should have been the thing that made me realize what the problem was, because both my gift and the sword's magic are different entities, yet they reacted logically to the same unreasoned action on my part. The sword's magic began to fail because I myself, by not eating meat, was saying that I did not completely believe that I was justified in using force to stop others who initiate violence.\n\n\"The sword's magic functions through the belief structure of the sword's owner; it only works against what the Seeker himself perceives as the enemy. The sword's magic will notwork against a friend. That was the key I should have understood." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"When I thought that the use of the sword had to be balanced, I was, in effect, expressing a belief that my actions were in someway unjustified. Therefore, because I held that remnant of faith in a false concept that had been inculcated in me throughout my life, just as all the people of Bandakar were taught-that killing was always wrong-the sword's magic began to fail me.\n\n\"The Sword of Truth's magic, as my gift, could only again be viable when I comprehended-completely-that the magic needs no balance for the killing I've done because the killing I've done is not only moral, but the only moral course of action I could have taken.\n\n\"By not eating meat, I was acknowledging that some part of my mind believed the same thing that the people herein Bandakar believed when we first met Owen and his men-that killing is always wrong.\n\n\"By thinking that I must not eat meat as a balance, I was denying the moral necessity of self-preservation, denying the essential of protecting the value of life. The very act of seeking \"balance\" for what I'm right in doing is a conflict which is what was causing the headaches and also caused the Sword of Truth's power to fail me. I was doing it to myself.\"\n\nRichard had violated the Wizard's First Rule by believing a lie-that it was always wrong to kill-because he feared it was true. He had also violated the Second Rule, among others, but most grievous of all, he had violated the Sixth Rule. In so doing, he had ignored reason in favor of blind faith. The failure of his gift and the sword's power was a direct result of not applying reasoned thought.\n\nFortunately, with the Eighth Rule, he had come to reexamine his actions and finally realized the flaw in his thinking. Only then was he able to correct the situation." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In the end, he had fulfilled the Eighth Rule.\n\nRichard shifted his weight to the other foot as he gazed at the faces watching him. \" I had to come to understand that my actions are moral and need no balance, but are in themselves balanced by my reasoned actions, that killing is sometimes not only justified, but the only right and moral thing to do.\n\n\"I had to come to understand the very thing I was asking all of you to understand. I had to understand that I must deserve victory.\"\n\nOwen looked over at those with him and then scratched his head. \"Well, considering everything, I guess we can understand how you could make such a misjudgment.\"\n\nJennsen, her red hair standing out against the green of the trees and fields, squinted at him in the sunlight. \"Well,\" she said with a sigh, \"I'm glad to be pristinely ungifted. Being a wizard sounds awfully hard.\"\n\nThe men all nodded while voicing their agreement.\n\nRichard smiled at Jennsen. \"A lot of things in life are hard to figure out. Like what you've been considering. What have you decided?\"\n\nJennsen clasped her hands and glanced over at Owen, Anson, and all the rest of the people with them.\n\n\"Well, this is no longer a banished empire. It's no longer an empire naked to the aggression of tyrants. It's part of the D'Haran Empire, now. These people want the same as us.\n\n\"I think I'd like to stay with them fora while and help them come to be part of the wider world, just as I've been starting to do. It's kind of exciting. I'd like to take your suggestion, Richard, and help them in that.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Richard smiled at his sister." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He ran his hand down her beautiful red hair.\n\n\"On a condition,\" she added.\n\nRichard let his hand drop back. \"Condition?\"\n\n\"Sure. I'm a Rahl, so... I was kind of thinking that I ought to have some proper protection. I could be a target, you know. People want to kill me. Jagang would love to-\"\n\nRichard laughed as he drew her into a hug with one arm to silence her.\n\n\"Tom, being as you area protector to the House of Rahl, I'm assigning you to protect my sister, Jennsen Rahl. It's an important job and it means a great deal tome.\"\n\nTom lifted an eyebrow. \"Are you sure, Lord Rahl?\"\n\nJennsen swatted him with the back of her hand. \"Of course he's sure. He wouldn't say it unless he was sure.\"\n\n\"You heard the lady,\" Richard said. \"I'm sure.\"\n\nThe big blond D'Haran smiled with a boyish grin. \"All right, then. I swear I will protect her, Lord Rahl.\"\n\nJennsen gestured vaguely back at the men and the town behind her.\n\n\"Since I've been with them, they have come to see that I'm not a witch, and Betty is not a spirit guide-although fora time there I was afraid they might be right about Betty.\"\n\nRichard peered down at the goat. Betty cocked her head. \"I guess none of us but Betty knew the truth of what Nicholas was up to.\" At the sound of her name, Betty's ears pricked forward and her tail went into a fit of expectant wagging.\n\nJennsen patted Betty's round middle. \"Now that these people understand that I'm not a witch, but I do share some of their traits, I suggested I might play an important role.\" She drew the knife at her belt and held it up, showing Richard the ornate letter'R\" engraved on the silver handle. \"I suggested that I be the official representative of the House of Rahl-if you approve.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Richard grinned." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I think that's an excellent idea.\"\n\n\"I think that would be wonderful, Jennsen.\" Kahlan pointed to the east with her chin. \"But don't wait too long before you get back to Hawton to see Ann and Nathan. They will be a valuable help in insuring that the people here are no longer the prey of the Imperial Order. They will help you.\"\n\nJennsen twisted her fingers together. \"But aren't they going to want to be going with the both of you? Helping you?\"\n\n\"Ann thinks she should direct Richard's life,\" Kahlan said. \"I don't think some of her directions have been the best thing.\" She slipped her arm through Richard's. \"He is the Lord Rahl, now. He needs to do things his way, not theirs.\"\n\n\"They both feel responsible for us,\" Richard explained. \" Nathan Rahl is a prophet. Prophecy, because of the way it functions, actually does require balance. The balance to Prophecy is freewill. I am the balance. I know those two don't like it, but I think I need to be free of them-for now. at least.\n\n\"But there is more to it. I think it's more important that they help the people here, first. We already know the uses to which Jagang will put the pristinely ungifted. I think it's vital that these people here, who are willing to value and protect the freedom they've won, are given some guidance in how to do that.\n\n\"Ann and Nathan will be able to setup defenses that will help protect the people here. They will also be valuable in teaching you the history that is important for you to know.\"\n\nAfter Richard picked up his pack and slipped his arms through the straps, Owen gripped Richard's hand. \"Thank you, Lord Rahl, for showing me that my life is worth living.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Marilee stepped forward and hugged him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Thank you for teaching Owen to be worthy of me.\"\n\nRichard laughed. Owen laughed. Cara gave Marilee an approving clap on the back. And then all the men laughed.\n\nBetty pushed in and with a flurry of tail wagging got the point across that she didn't want to be left out.\n\nRichard knelt down and scratched Betty's ears. \"And you, my friend, from now on I don't want you letting any Slides using you to spy on people.\"\n\nBetty pushed her head against his chest as he scratched her ears, and bleated as if to say she was sorry." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Alone at last beneath the vast blue sky, the soaring walls of snowcapped mountains, and in among the trees, Richard felt good about being on their way. He would miss Jennsen, but it was only fora time. It would do her good to be on her own, yet among people also discovering how to live their own lives as they learned more about the wider world. He knew he would not trade away all he had learned since he'd left his sheltered life in Hartland. If not for that, he wouldn't be with Kahlan.\n\nIt felt good to walk and stretch his legs. He hitched his bow up higher on his shoulder as they made their way through the dappled sunlight of the hushed forest floor. After being so close to death as well as to losing his ability to see, he found everything more vibrant. The mosses looked more lush, the leaves more shimmery, the towering pines more awe-inspiring.\n\nKahlan's eyes seemed more green, her hair softer, her smile warmer.\n\nAs much as heat onetime had hated the fact that he had been born gifted, he was now relieved to have his gift back. It was part of him, part of who he was, part of what made him the individual he was.\n\nKahlan had once asked him if he wished she had been born without her Confessor's power. He had told her that he would never wish that, because he loved her for who she was. There was noway to separate out the parts of a person. That was to deny their individuality. He was no different. His gift was part of who he was. His abilities touched everything he did.\n\nHis problem with his gift was of his own making. The magic of the Sword of Truth had helped him understand that by failing him. In so doing, it had revealed his own failure to recognize the truth." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "To have it back at his hip, and to know that it was once again in harmony with him and ready to defend him and those he loved, was a comforting feeling-not because he wished to fight, but because he wished to live.\n\nThe day was warm and they made good time climbing the rocky trail up into the pass. By the time they reached the crown of the notch through the formidable mountains, it was colder, but without a biting wind it was not unpleasant.\n\nAt the top of the pass they stopped to gaze up at the statue of Kaja-Rang, sitting where it had been for thousands of years, all alone, keeping vigil over an empire of those who once could not see evil.\n\nIn someways, the statue's presence was a monument to failure. Where Kaja-Rang and his people had failed to get these people to seethe truth, Richard had succeeded-but not without Kaja-Rang's help.\n\nRichard put his hands on the cold granite, on the words-Taiga Vassternich-that had helped save his life.\n\n\"Thank you,\" he whispered up at the face of the man staring off toward the Pillars of Creation, where Richard had discovered his sister.\n\nCara placed her hands over the words, and Richard was surprised to see her lookup at the statue and say, \"Thank you for helping to save Lord Rahl.\"\n\nAfter they started descending the pass, first crossing the open ledges and then making it down into the dense woods, Richard heard the call of a pewee, the signal he had taught Cara that had served them so well.\n\n\"You know,\" Cara said as she led them down the rocky ground beside a small stream, \"Anson knows a lot about birds.\"\n\nRichard stepped carefully among the tangle of cedar roots. \"Really.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yes. While you were recovering we spent time talking.\" She put a hand against the fibrous bark of the reddish trunk of a cedar to keep her balance. She pulled her long blond braid forward over her shoulder as she started out again, running her hand down the length of the braid.\n\n\"He complimented me on my bird whistle,\" Cara said.\n\nRichard glanced to Kahlan. She shrugged to let him know that she didn't have any idea what Cara was getting at.\n\n\"I told you that you learned it well,\" Richard said.\n\n\"I told him that you taught it tome, that it was the call of the short-tailed pine hawk. Anson said that there wasn't any such bird as a short-tailed pine hawk. He said the call I used as a signal-the call you taught me-was a common wood pewee. Me, a Mord-Sith, using the call of a bird named a pewee. Imagine that.\"\n\nThey walked in silence fora moment.\n\n\"Am I in trouble?\" Richard finally asked.\n\n\"Oh, yes,\" Cara answered.\n\nRichard couldn't help smiling but he made sure the Mord-Sith didn't see it, nor. did Cara see Kahlan look back over her shoulder with the special smile she gave no other but him.\n\nKahlan lifted an arm, pointing. \"Look.\"\n\nThrough the gaps in the crowns of the cedars, against the bright blue sky, they saw a black-tipped race circling high above them, riding the mountain air currents. The races were no longer hunting them. This one was simply looking for its dinner.\n\n\"What's that old saying?\" Cara asked. \"Something about a bird of prey circling over you at the beginning of a journey being a warning sign.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yes, that's right,\" Richard said. \"But I'm not going to let that old tale bother me; we'll let you come with us anyway.\"\n\nKahlan laughed and received a scolding scowl. Kahlan laughed all the more when Richard started laughing, too. Cara couldn't holdout, and as she turned back to the trail, Richard saw the smile spread across her face." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Partner with the writer, carry on with the story.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, magic\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: The Path of Daggers\nChapter: 6" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "CHAPTER 1\n\nTo Keep the Bargain\n\nEast the wind blew across Tremalking, where the fair-skinned Amayar farmed their fields, and made fine glass and porcelain, and followed the peace of the Water Way. The Amayar ignored the world beyond their scattered islands, for the Water Way taught that this world was only illusion, a mirrored reflection of belief, yet some watched the wind carry dust and deep summer heat where cold winter rains should befalling, and they remembered tales heard from the Atha'an Miere. Tales of the world beyond, and what prophecy said was to come. Some looked to a hill where a massive stone hand rose from the earth, holding a clear crystal sphere larger than many houses. The Amayar had their own prophecies, and some of those spoke of the hand and the sphere. And the end of illusions.\n\nOnward the wind blew into the Sea of Storms, eastward beneath a searing sun in a sky abandoned by clouds, whipping the tops of green sea swells, battling winds from the south and westward winds, shearing and swirling as the waters below heaved. Not yet the storms of winter's heart, though winter should have been half gone, much less the greater storms of a dying summer, but winds and currents that could be used by ocean-faring folk to coast around the continent from World's End to Mayene and beyond, then back again. Eastward the wind howled, over rolling ocean where the great whales rose and sounded, and flying fish soared on outstretched fins two paces and more across, eastward, now whirling north, east and north, over small fleets of fishing ships dragging their nets in the shallower seas. Some of those fishermen stood gaping, hands idle on the lines, staring at a huge array of tall vessels and smaller that purposefully rode the wind's hard breath, shattering swells with bluff bows, slicing swells with narrow, their banner a golden hawk with talons clutching lightning, a multitude of streaming banners like portents of storm. East and north and on, and the wind reached the broad, ship-filled harbor of Ebou Dar, where hundreds of Sea Folk vessels rode as they did in many ports, awaiting word of the Coramoor, the Chosen One." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Across the harbor the wind roared, tossing small ships and large, across the city itself, gleaming white beneath the unfettered sun, spires and walls and color-ringed domes, streets and canals bustling with the storied southern industry. Around the shining domes and slender towers of the Tarasin Palace the wind swirled, carrying the tang of salt, lifting the flag of Altara, two golden leopards on afield of red and blue, and the banners of ruling House Mitsobar, the Sword and Anchor, green on white. Not yet the storm, but a harbinger of storms.\n\nSkin prickled between Aviendha's shoulder blades as she strode ahead of her companions through palace hallways tiled in dozens of pleasing bright hues. A sense of being watched that she had last felt while still wed to the spear. Imagination, she told herself. Imagination and knowing there are enemies about I cannot face! Not so long ago that crawling sensation had meant someone might be intending to kill her. Death was nothing to fear-everyone died, today or on another-but she did not want to die like a rabbit kicking in a snare. She had toh to meet.\n\nServants scurried by close along the walls, bobbing bows and curtsies, dropping their eyes almost as if they understood the shame of the lives they lived, yet surely it could not be them that made her want to twist her shoulders. She had tried schooling herself to see servants, but even now, with the skin creeping on her back, her gaze slid around them. It had to be imagination, and nerves. This was a day for imagination and nerves.\n\nUnlike the servants, rich silk tapestries snagged at her eye, and the gilded stand-lamps and ceiling lamps lining the corridors. Paper-thin porcelain in reds and yellows and greens and blues stood in wall niches and tall open-work cabinets alongside ornaments of gold and silver, ivory and crystal, scores upon scores of bowls and vases and caskets and statuettes. Only the most beautiful truly caught her gaze; whatever wetlanders thought, beauty held more worth than gold. There was much beauty here. She would not have minded taking her share of the fifth from this place." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Vexed with herself, she frowned. That was not an honorable thought beneath a roof that had offered her shade and water freely. Without ceremony, true, but also without debtor blood, steel or need. Yet better that than thinking about a small boy alone somewhere out in this corrupt city. Any city was corrupt-of that much she was certain, now, having seen some part of four-but Ebou Dar was the last where she would have let a child run loose. What she could not understand was why thoughts of Olver came unless she worked to avoid them. He was no part of the toh she had to Elayne, and to Rand al'Thor. A Shaido spear had taken his father, starvation and hardship his mother, yet had it been her own spear that took both, the boy was still a treekiller, Cairhienin. Why should she fret over a child from that blood? Why? She attempted to concentrate on the weave she was to make, but although she had practiced under Elayne's eye until she could have formed it sleeping, Olver's wide-mouthed face intruded. Birgitte worried about him even more than she, but Birgitte's breast held a strangely soft heart for small boys, especially ugly ones.\n\nSighing, Aviendha gave up trying to ignore her companions' conversation behind her, though irritation crackled through it like heat lightning. Even that was better than upsetting herself over a son of treekillers. Oathbreakers. A despised blood the world would be better off without. No concern or worry of hers. None. Mat Cauthon would find the boy in any case. He could find anything, it seemed. And listening settled her, somehow. The prickling faded away.\n\n\"I don't like it one bit!\" Nynaeve was muttering, continuing an argument begun back in their rooms. \"Not a bit, Lan, do you hear me?\" She had announced her dislike at least twenty times already, but Nynaeve never surrendered just because she had lost. Short and dark-eyed, she strode fiercely, kicking her divided blue skirts, one hand rising to hover near her thick, waist-long braid, then thrust down firmly before rising again. Nynaeve kept a tight hold on anger and irritation when Lan was around. Or tried to. An inordinate pride filled her about marrying him. The close-fitting embroidered blue coat over her yellow-slashed silk riding dress hung open, showing far too much bosom in the wetlander way, just so she could display his heavy gold finger ring on a fine chain around her neck. \"You have no right to promise to take care of me like that, Lan Mandragoran,\" she went on firmly. \"I am not a porcelain figurine!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He paced at her side, a man of proper size, towering head and shoulders and more above her, the eye-wrenching cloak of a Warder hanging down his back. His face seemed hacked from stone, and his gaze weighed the threat in every servant who passed, examined every crossing corridor and wall niche for hidden attackers. Readiness radiated from him, a lion on the brink of his charge. Aviendha had grownup around dangerous men, but never one to match Aan'allein. Had death been a man, she would have been him.\n\n\"You are Aes Sedai, and I am a Warder,\" he said in a deep, level voice. \"Taking care of you is my duty.\" His tone softened, conflicting sharply with his angular face and bleak, never-changing eyes. \"Besides, caring for you is my heart's desire, Nynaeve. You can ask or demand anything of me, but never to let you die without trying to save you. The day you die, I die.\"\n\nThat last he had not said before, not in Aviendha's hearing, and it hit Nynaeve like a blow to the stomach; her eyes started half out of her head, and her mouth worked soundlessly. She appeared to recover quickly, though, as always. Pretending to resettle her blue-plumed hat, a ridiculous thing like a strange bird roosting atop her head, she shot a glance at him from beneath the wide brim.\n\nAviendha had begun to suspect that the other woman often used silence and supposedly significant looks to cover ignorance. She suspected. Nynaeve knew little more about men, about dealing with one man, than she did herself. Facing them with knives and spears was much easier than loving one. Much easier. How did women manage being married to them? Aviendha had a desperate need to learn, and no idea how. Married to Aan'allein only a day, Nynaeve had changed much more than simply in trying to control her temper. She seemed to flit from startlement to shock, however much she attempted to hide it. She fell into dreaminess at odd moments, blushed at innocuous questions, and-she denied this fiercely, even when Aviendha had seen her-she giggled over nothing at all. There was no point in trying to learn anything from Nynaeve." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I suppose you're going to tell me about Warders and Aes Sedai again, as well,\" Elayne said coolly to Birgitte." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well, you and I aren't married. I expect you to guard my back, but I will not have you making promises about me behind it.\" Elayne wore garments as inappropriate as Nynaeve's, a gold-embroidered Ebou Dari riding dress of green silk, suitably high-necked but with an oval opening that bared the inner slopes of her breasts. Wetlanders spluttered at the mention of a sweat tent or being unclothed in front of gai'shain, then walked about half-exposed where any stranger could see. Aviendha did not really mind for Nynaeve, but Elayne washer near-sister. And would be more, she hoped.\n\nThe raised heels of Birgitte's boots made her almost a hand taller than Nynaeve, if still shorter than Elayne or Aviendha. In dark blue coat and wide green trousers, she carried herself with much of the same warily confident readiness as Lan, though it seemed more casual in her. A leopard lying on a rock, and not nearly so lazy as she appeared. There was no arrow nocked in the bow Birgitte carried, but for all her stroll and smiles, she could have a shaft out of the quiver at her waist before anyone could blink, and be loosing her third before anybody else could have fitted a second to bowstring.\n\nShe gave Elayne awry grin and a shake of her head that swung a golden braid as long and thick as Nynaeve's dark one. \"I promised to your face, not behind your back,\" she said dryly. \"When you've learned a little more, I won't have to tell you about Warders and Aes Sedai.\" Elayne sniffed and lifted her chin haughtily, busying herself with the ribbons of her hat, which was covered with long green plumes and worse than Nynaeve's. \"Perhaps a great deal more,\" Birgitte added. \"You're tying another knot in that bow.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Had Elayne not been her near-sister, Aviendha would have laughed at the crimson that flooded her cheeks." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Tripping someone who tried to walk too high was always fun, or watching it done, and even a shortfall was worth a laugh. As it was, she leveled a firm stare at Birgitte, a promise that more might bring retribution. She liked the woman despite all her secrets, but the difference between a friend and a near-sister was a thing these wetlanders seemed unable to comprehend. Birgitte only smiled, glancing from her to Elayne, and murmured under her breath. Aviendha caught the word'kittens.\" Worse, it sounded fond. Everyone must have heard. Everyone!\n\n\"What's gotten into you, Aviendha?\" Nynaeve demanded, prodding her shoulder with a stiff finger. \"Do you intend to stand there blushing all day? We are in a hurry.\"\n\nOnly then did Aviendha realize by the heat in her face that she must be as red as Elayne. And standing still as stone besides, when they had need for haste. Cut by a word, like a girl newly wedded to the spear and unused to the banter among Maidens. She had almost twenty years, and she was behaving like a child playing with her first bow. That added flames to her cheeks. Which was why she all but leaped around the next turning and very nearly ran headlong into Teslyn Baradon.\n\nSkidding awkwardly on red-and-green floor tiles, Aviendha half-fell backward, catching herself against Elayne and Nynaeve. This time she managed not to blush herself to fire, but she wanted to. She was shaming her near-sister as much as herself. Elayne always held her composure, no matter what. Luckily, Teslyn Baradon took the encounter little better.\n\nThe sharp-faced woman recoiled in surprise, gaping before she could stop herself, then shifting her narrow shoulders irritably. Gaunt cheeks and a narrow nose hid the ageless quality of the Red sister's features, and her red dress, brocaded in a blue that was nearly black, only made her appear bonier, yet she quickly gathered a clan roofmistress's self-possession, dark brown eyes as cool as deep shadows. They slid past Aviendha dismissively, ignoring Lan like a tool she had no use for, burned a brief moment at Birgitte. Most Aes Sedai disapproved of Birgitte being a Warder, though none could give a reason beyond sour mutters about tradition. Elayne and Nynaeve, however, the woman fixed by turns. Aviendha could have tracked yesterday's wind before reading anything on Teslyn Baradon's face now." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I did already tell Merilille,\" she said in a thick Illianer accent, \"but I may as well put your minds at rest, also. Whatever... mischief... you do be about, Joline and I will no interfere. I did see to that. Elaida may never learn of it, if you do have some care. Stop gaping at me like carp, children,\" she added with a grimace of distaste. \"I be neither blind nor deaf. I do know of Sea Folk Windfinders in the palace, and secret meetings with Queen Tylin. And other things.\" That thin mouth tightened, and though her tone remained serene, her dark gaze flared with anger. \"You will pay dearly yet for those other things, you and those who do allow you to play at being Aes Sedai, but I will look aside for now. Atonement can wait.\"\n\nNynaeve took a tight grip on her braid, back straight, head high, and her own eyes blazed. Under different circumstances Aviendha might have found some sympathy for the target of the tongue-lashing plainly about to erupt. Nynaeve's tongue carried more spines than a hair-needle segade, and sharper ones. Coldly, Aviendha considered this woman who thought she could look right through her. A Wise One did not stoop to thrashing someone with her fists, but she was still only an apprentice; perhaps it would not cost her ji if she just bruised this Teslyn Baradon a little. She opened her mouth to give the Red sister a chance to defend herself at the same instant Nynaeve opened hers, yet Elayne spoke first.\n\n\"What we are about, Teslyn,\" she said in a chill voice, \"is none of your business.\" She, too, stood straight, her eyes blue ice; a chance ray of light from a high window caught her golden-red curls, seeming to set them afire. Right then, Elayne could have made a roof-mistress seem a goatherd with too much oosquai in her belly. It was a skill she honed well. She delivered each word with cold crystal dignity. \"You have no right to interfere in anything we do, in anything that any sister does. No right whatsoever. So pull your nose out of our coats, you summer ham, and be glad we do not choose to take issue with you supporting a usurper on the Amyrlin Seat.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Perplexed, Aviendha glanced sideways at her near-sister. Pull her nose out of their coats? She and Elayne, at least, were not wearing coats. A summer ham? What did that mean? Wetlanders often said peculiar things, but the other women all looked as puzzled as she. Only Lan, staring at Elayne askance, appeared to understand, and he seemed... startled. And perhaps amused. It was difficult to tell; Aan'allein controlled his features well.\n\nTeslyn Baradon sniffed, pinching her face even tighter. Aviendha was trying hard to call these people by only part of their names the way they themselves did-when she used a whole name, they thought she was upset!-but she could not begin to imagine being so intimate with Teslyn Baradon. \"I will leave you foolish children to your business,\" the woman growled. \"Be sure you do no get your noses caught in a worse crack than they already do be.\"\n\nAs she turned to go, gathering her skirts grandly, Nynaeve caught her arm. Wetlanders usually let emotion gild their faces, and Nynaeve's was the image of conflict, anger struggling to breakthrough fixed determination. \"Wait, Teslyn,\" she said reluctantly. \"You and Joline maybe in danger. I told Tylin, but I think she maybe afraid to tell anyone else. Unwilling, anyway. It's nothing anybody really wants to talk about.\" She drew along, deep breath, and if she was thinking of her own fears in the matter, she had cause. There was no shame in feeling fear, only in giving way to it, or letting it show. Aviendha felt aflutter in her own belly as Nynaeve went on. \"Moghedien has been herein Ebou Dar. She might still be. And maybe another of the Forsaken, too. With a gholam, a kind of Shadowspawn the Power won't touch. It looks like a man, but it was made, and made to kill Aes Sedai. Steel doesn't seem to hurt it either, and it can squeeze through a mousehole. The Black Ajah is here, as well. And there's a storm coming, a bad storm. Only it isn't a storm, not weather. I can feel it; that's a skill I have, a Talent, maybe. There's danger headed for Ebou Dar, and trouble worse than any wind or rain or lightning.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The Forsaken, a storm that is no a storm, and some Shadowspawn I did never hear of before,\" Teslyn Baradon said wryly. \"Not to mention the Black Ajah. Light! The Black Ajah! And the Dark One himself, perhaps?\" Her twisted smile was razor thin. She plucked Nynaeve's hand from her sleeve contemptuously. \"When you do be back in the White Tower where you belong, in white as you all truly belong, you will learn no to waste your hours with wild fancies. Or to carry your tales to sisters.\" Running her eyes over them, and once more skipping past Aviendha, she gave aloud sniff and marched off down the hallway so quickly that servants had to leap from her path.\n\n\"That woman has the nerve to...!\" Nynaeve spluttered, glaring after the retreating woman and strangling her braid with both hands. \"After I made myself...!\" She almost choked on her spleen. \"Well, I tried.\" And now regretted the attempt, by the sound.\n\n\"You did,\" Elayne agreed with a sharp nod, \"and more than she deserves. Denying that we're Aes Sedai! I won't put up with that anymore! I won't!\" Her voice had only seemed cold before; now it was cold, and grim.\n\n\"Can one like that be trusted?\" Aviendha muttered. \"Maybe we should be sure she cannot interfere.\" She examined her fist; Teslyn Baradon would see that. The woman deserved to be caught by the Shadowsouled, by Moghedien or another. Fools deserved whatever their foolishness brought.\n\nNynaeve appeared to consider the suggestion, but what she said was'If I didn't know better, I'd think she was ready to turn on Elaida.\" She clicked her tongue in exasperation." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You can dizzy yourself trying to read the currents in Aes Sedai politics.\" Elayne did not say Nynaeve should know that by now, but her tone did. \"Even a Red might be turning against Elaida, for some reason we can't begin to imagine. Or she could be trying to make us lower our guard, so she can somehow trick us into putting ourselves into Elaida's hands. Or-\"\n\nLan coughed. \"If any of the Forsaken are coming,\" he said in a voice like polished stone, \"they could be here any moment. Or that gholam could. In either case, it would be best to be elsewhere.\"\n\n\"With Aes Sedai, always a little patience,\" Birgitte murmured as though quoting. \"But the Windfinders don't seem to have any,\" she continued, \"so you might do well to forget Teslyn and remember Renaile.\"\n\nElayne and Nynaeve turned stares on the Warders cold enough to give ten Stone Dogs pause. Neither liked running from the Shadowsouled and this gholam, for all they were the ones who had decided there was no choice. Certainly neither liked being reminded that they needed to run to meet the Windfinders almost as much as to escape the Forsaken. Aviendha would have studied those looks-Wise Ones did with a glance or a few words what she had always needed the threat of spear or fist for, only they usually did it faster and with more success-she would have studied Elayne and Nynaeve, except that their glares had no visible effect on the pair at all. Birgitte grinned and cut her eyes toward Lan, who shrugged back at her with obvious forbearance.\n\nElayne and Nynaeve gave over. Unhurriedly, and unnecessarily, straightening their skirts, they each took one of Aviendha's arms before setting off again without so much as a glance to see that the Warders followed. Not that Elayne needed to, with the Warder bond. Or Nynaeve, if not for the same reason; Aan'allein's bond might belong to another, but his heart hung alongside his ring on that chain around her neck. They made a great show of strolling casually, unwilling to let Birgitte and Lan think they had been brought to hurry, yet the truth was, they did walk faster than before." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As if to makeup for that, they chatted with deliberate idleness, choosing the most frivolous subjects. Elayne regretted not having a chance to truly seethe Festival of Birds, just yesterday, and never gave a blush for the scant garments many people had worn. Nynaeve did not blush either, but she quickly began talking about the Feast of Embers, to beheld that night. Some of the servants claimed there would be fireworks, supposedly made by a refugee Illuminator. Several traveling shows had come to the city with their strange animals and acrobats, which interested both Elayne and Nynaeve, since they had spent sometime with such a show. They talked of seamstresses, and the varieties of lace available in Ebou Dar, and the different qualities of silk and linen that could be bought, and Aviendha found herself responding with pleasure to comments on how well her gray silk riding dress looked on her, and the other garments given to her by Tylin Quintara, fine woolens and silks, and the stockings and shifts to go with them, and jewelry. Elayne and Nynaeve also had received extravagant gifts. All together their presents filled a number of chests and bundles that had been carried down to the stables by servants, along with their saddlebags.\n\n\"Why are you scowling, Aviendha?\" Elayne asked, giving her a pat on the arm and a smile. \"Don't worry. You know the weave; you will do just fine.\"\n\nNynaeve leaned her head close and whispered, \"I'll fix you a tea when I have a chance. I know several that will soothe your stomach. Or any woman's troubles.\" She patted Aviendha's arm, too.\n\nThey did not understand. No comforting words or teas would cure what ailed her. She was enjoying talk of lace and embroidery! She did not know whether to growl in disgust or wail in despair. She was growing soft. Never before in her life had she looked at a woman's dress except to think where it might be hiding a weapon, never to notice the color and cut, or think how it would look on her. It was past time to be away from this city, away from wetlander palaces. Soon she would start simpering. She had not seen Elayne or Nynaeve do that, but everyone knew wetlander women simpered, and it was obvious she had become as weak as any milk-water wetlander. Strolling arm-in-arm, chatting about lace! How was she to reach her belt knife if someone attacked them? A knife might be useless against the likeliest assailants, but she had had faith in steel long before she knew she could channel. Should anyone try to harm Elayne or Nynaeve-especially Elayne, but she had promised Mat Cauthon to protect them both as surely as Birgitte and Aan'allein had-should anyone try, she would plant steel in their hearts. Lace! As they walked, she wept inside at how soft she had become." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Huge, paired stable doors fronted three sides of the palace's largest stableyard, the doorways crowded by servants in green-and-white livery. Behind them in the white stone stables waited horses, saddled or loaded with wicker panniers. Seabirds wheeled and cried overhead, an unpleasant reminder of how much water lay nearby. Heat shimmered up from pale paving stones, but it was tension that thickened the air. Aviendha had seen blood spilled where there was less strain.\n\nRenaile din Calon, in red and yellow silks, arms crossed arrogantly beneath her breasts, stood before nineteen more barefoot women with tattooed hands and brightly colored blouses, most in trousers and long sashes just as brilliant. Sweat glistening on dark faces did not lessen their grave dignity. Some sniffed at lacy gold boxes, filled with heavy scent, that hung about their necks. Five fat gold rings pierced each of Renaile din Calon's ears, a chain from one dripping medallions as it ran across her left cheek to a ring in her nose. The three women close behind her each wore eight earrings and slightly fewer bits of dangling gold. That was how the Sea Folk marked rank among themselves, with the women at least. All deferred to Renaile din Calon, Windfinder to the Mistress of the Ships to the Atha'an Miere, but even the two apprentices at the rear, in dark trousers and linen blouses instead of silk, added their own golden shimmers to the air. When Aviendha and the others appeared, Renaile din Calon ostentatiously looked to the sun, past its noon peak. Her eyebrows climbed as she directed her gaze back to them, eyes black as her white-winged hair, a demanding stare of impatience so loud she might as well have shouted." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elayne and Nynaeve stopped short, dragging Aviendha to an abrupt halt. They exchanged worried glances past her, and deep sighs. She did not see how they were to escape. Obligation bound her near-sister and Nynaeve hand and foot, and they themselves had tied the knots tight.\n\n\"I'll see to the Knitting Circle,\" Nynaeve muttered under her breath, and Elayne said, a little more stoutly, \"I'll make sure the sisters are ready.\"\n\nReleasing her arms, they went in opposite directions, holding their skirts up to step quickly and followed by Birgitte and Lan. That left her facing Renaile din Calon's gaze alone, the eagle stare of a woman who knew she held the high ground and could not be dislodged. Fortunately, the Windfinder to the Mistress of the Ships quickly turned to her companions, so quickly that the ends of her long yellow sash swung wide. The other Windfinders gathered around her, intent on her quiet words. Hitting her even once would surely ruin everything. Aviendha tried not to glare at them, but as much she attempted to look elsewhere, her eyes returned. No one had the right to catch her near-sister in a cleft stick. Nose rings! A good grip on that chain, and Renaile din Calon Blue Star would wear a very different expression.\n\nClustered together atone end of the stableyard, tiny Merilille Ceandevin and four more Aes Sedai also regarded the Windfinders, most with annoyance ill-concealed behind cool serenity. Even slender white-haired Vandene Namelle and her mirror-image first-sister Adeleas, who usually looked the most imperturbable of them all. Now and then one or another adjusted a thin linen dust-cloak or brushed at divided silk skirts. Sudden gusts did raise a little dust and stir the color-shifting cloaks of the five Warders just at their backs, yet clearly annoyance moved their hands. Only Sareitha, standing guard over a large white disc-shaped bundle, did not twitch, but she frowned. Merilille's... maid... Pol, scowled from behind them. The Aes Sedai heatedly disapproved of the bargain that had brought the Atha'an Miere from their ships and given them aright to stare at Aes Sedai with demanding impatience, but that bargain tied the sisters' tongues and choked them on their own irritation. Which they tried to hide; they might have succeeded with the wetlanders. The third group of women, in a tight knot at the opposite end of the yard, earned almost as much of their study." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Reanne Corly and the other ten survivors of the Kin's Knitting Circle stirred uneasily under that disapproving scrutiny, dabbing their sweaty faces with embroidered handkerchiefs, adjusting their broad, colorful straw hats, smoothing sober woolen skirts sewn upon one side to expose layers of petticoats as bright as the Sea Folk's garb. In part it was the stares of the Aes Sedai that had them shifting from foot to foot; fear of the Forsaken and the gholam added to it, and so did other things. The narrow, plunging necklines of those dresses should have been enough. Most of these women showed at least a few lines on their cheeks, yet they looked like girls caught with their hands full of stolen nutbread. All but stout Sumeko, fists planted on broad hips, who met the Aes Sedai stare for stare. A bright glow of saidar surrounded one of their number, Kirstian, who kept glancing over her shoulder. With a paleface perhaps ten years older than Nynaeve's, she appeared out of place among the others. That face grew whiter every time her black eyes met those of an Aes Sedai.\n\nNynaeve hurried to the women who led the Kin, her face beaming encouragement, and Reanne and the others smiled with visible relief. Marred a little, true, by the sidelong glances they directed at Lan; him they regarded as the wolf he resembled. Nynaeve, however, was the reason Sumeko did not wilt like the rest whenever an Aes Sedai glanced in her direction. She had vowed to teach those women that they possessed backbones, though Aviendha did not completely understand why. Nynaeve was Aes Sedai herself; no Wise One would ever tell anyone to stand up to Wise Ones." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "However well that might be working with respect to the other Aes Sedai, even Sumeko wore a slightly fawning air for Nynaeve. The Knitting Circle found it strange, to say the least, that women as young as Elayne and Nynaeve gave orders to the other Aes Sedai and were obeyed. Aviendha herself found it peculiar; how could strength in the Power, something you were born with as surely as your eyes, weigh more heavily than the honor that years could bring? Yet the older Aes Sedai did obey, and for the Kinswomen, that was enough. Ieine, nearly as tall as Aviendha herself and almost as dark as the Sea Folk, returned Nynaeve's every glance with an obsequious smile, while Dimana, white streaking her bright red hair, ducked her head constantly under Nynaeve's eyes, and yellow-haired Sibella hid nervous giggles behind a hand. Despite their Ebou Dari garments, only Tamarla, lean and olive-skinned, was Altaran, and not even from the city.\n\nThey parted as soon as Nynaeve came close, revealing a woman on her knees, wrists bound behind her, a leather sack covering her head, and her fine clothes torn and dusty. She was as much the reason for their uneasiness as Merilille's frowns or the Forsaken. Perhaps more.\n\nTamarla dragged the hood off, leaving the woman's thin, bead-studded braids tangled; Ispan Shefar tried to rise, and managed to reach an awkward crouch before she staggered and sank back down, blinking and giggling foolishly. Sweat ran down her cheeks, and a few bruises from her capture marred her ageless features. She had been treated too gently for her crimes, to Aviendha's mind." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The herbs Nynaeve had forced down the woman's throat still fogged her wits as well as weakening her knees, but Kirstian held a shield on her with every shred of the Power she could summon. There was no chance the Shadowrunner might escape-even had she not been dosed, Kirstian was as strong in the Power as Reanne, stronger than most Aes Sedai Aviendha had met-yet even Sumeko plucked her skirts nervously and avoided looking at the kneeling woman.\n\n\"Surely the sisters should have her, now.\" Reanne's high-pitched voice carried, unsteady enough to belong to the Black sister Kirstian shielded. \"Nynaeve Sedai, we... we should not be guar-uh-in charge of... an Aes Sedai.\"\n\n\"That's right,\" Sumeko put in quickly. And anxiously. \"The Aes Sedai should have her, now.\" Sibella echoed her, and nods and murmurs of agreement rippled through the Kinswomen. They believed in their bones that they stood far below Aes Sedai; very likely they would have chosen guarding Trollocs over holding an Aes Sedai.\n\nThe disapproving stares from Merilille and the other sisters changed once Ispan Shefar's face was revealed. Sareitha Tomares, who had worn her brown-fringed shawl only a few years and still did not have the ageless appearance, glared with a disgust that should have flayed the Shadowrunner at fifty paces. Adeleas and Vandene, hands tightening on their skirts, appeared to struggle with hatred for the woman who had been their sister and betrayed them. Yet the stares they gave the Knitting Circle were not that much better. They, too, knew in their hearts that the Kin stood a very long way below them. There was much more to it than that, but the betrayer had been one of their own, and no one but they had the right to her. Aviendha agreed. A Maiden who betrayed her spear-sisters did not die quickly or un-shamed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nynaeve pulled the sack back down over Ispan Shefar's head with some force. \"You've done well so far, and you'll continue to do well,\" she told the Kinswomen firmly. \"If she shows signs of coming round, pour some more of that mixture down her. It'll keep her giddy as a goat full of ale. Hold her nose, if she tries not to swallow. Even an Aes Sedai will swallow if you hold her nose and threaten to box her ears.\"\n\nReanne's jaw dropped and her eyes sprang wide, like most of her companions\". Sumeko nodded, but slowly, and goggled nearly as much as the others. When Kinswomen said Aes Sedai, they might have been naming the Creator. The thought of holding an Aes Sedai's nose, even a Shadowrunner's, painted their faces with horror.\n\nBy the popping eyes among the Aes Sedai, they liked the notion even less. Merilille opened her mouth, staring at Nynaeve, but just then Elayne reached her, and the Gray sister rounded on her instead, sparing barely a single disapproving frown for Birgitte. It was a measure of her agitation that her voice rose rather than dropping; normally Merilille was very discreet. \"Elayne, you must speak to Nynaeve. Those women are confused and frightened out of their wits already. It won't help if she upsets them even more. If the Amyrlin Seat really does intend to allow them to go to the Tower,\" she shook her head slowly, trying to deny that, and perhaps a great deal else, \"if she does mean to, they must have a clear picture of their places, and-\"\n\n\"The Amyrlin does,\" Elayne cut her off. From Nynaeve, a firm tone was a fist shaken under your nose; from Elayne, it was calm certainty. \"They will have their chance to try again, and if they fail, they still will not be sent away. No woman who can channel will be cutoff from the Tower again. They will all be apart of the White Tower.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Fingering her belt knife idly, Aviendha wondered about that. Egwene, Elayne's Amyrlin Seat, said much the same. She was a friend, too, but she had wrapped her heart around being Aes Sedai. Aviendha herself did not want to be part of the White Tower. She very much doubted that Sorilea or any other Wise One did, either.\n\nMerilille sighed and folded her hands, yet for all her outward acceptance, she still forgot to lower her voice. \"As you say, Elayne. But about Ispan. We simply cannot allow-\"\n\nElayne raised a hand sharply. Command replaced mere certainty. \"Cease, Merilille. You have the Bowl of the Winds to watch. That is enough for anyone. It will be enough for you.\"\n\nMerilille opened her mouth, then closed it again and bowed her head slightly in acquiescence. Under Elayne's steady gaze, the other Aes Sedai bent theirs, too. If some displayed reluctance, however small, not all did. Sareitha hurriedly picked up the disc-shaped bundle, wrapped in layers of white silk, that had been lying by her feet. Her arms barely went all the way around as she held the Bowl of the Winds to her bosom, smiling anxiously at Elayne as if to show that she really was keeping a close eye on it.\n\nThe Sea Folk women stared hungrily at the bundle, almost leaning forward. Aviendha would not have been surprised to see them leap across the stones to seize the Bowl. The Aes Sedai saw the same, plainly. Sareitha clutched the white parcel more tightly, and Merilille actually stepped between her and the Atha'an Miere. Smooth Aes Sedai faces tightened with the effort of remaining expressionless. They believed the Bowl should belong to them; all things that used or manipulated the One Power belonged to the White Tower in their eyes, no matter who happened to possess them at the moment. But there was the bargain." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The sun moves, Aes Sedai,\" Renaile din Calon announced loudly, \"and danger threatens. So you maintain. If you think to worm free in some fashion by delaying, think twice and again. Try to break the bargain, and by my father's heart, I will return to the ships at once. And claim the Bowl for redress. It was ours from the Breaking.\"\n\n\"You watch your tongue with Aes Sedai,\" Reanne barked, scandalized indignation from her blue straw hat to the stout shoes peeking from beneath her green-and-white petticoats.\n\nRenaile din Calon's mouth curled into a sneer. \"The jellyfish have tongues, it seems. A surprise they can use them, though, when no Aes Sedai gave permission.\"\n\nIn an instant the stableyard was full of shouted insults flying between Kin and Atha'an Miere, \"wilder\" and'spineless\" and growing worse, strident cries that buried Merilille's attempts to hush Reanne and her companions on one hand and soothe the Sea Folk on the other. Several Windfinders stopped fingering the daggers thrust behind their sashes and gripped hilts instead. The glow of saidar sprang up around first one then another of the brightly clad women. The Kinswomen looked startled, though it did not slow their tirade, but Sumeko embraced the Source, then Tamarla, then willowy, doe-eyed Chilares, and soon everyone of them and everyone of the Windfinders shone while words flew and tempers boiled.\n\nAviendha wanted to groan. Any moment blood would begin to flow. She would follow Elayne's lead, but her near-sister was glaring cold fury at Windfinders and Knitting Circle alike. Elayne had small patience with stupidity, in herself or others, and shouting insults when an enemy might becoming was the worst sort. Aviendha took a firm grip on her belt knife, then after a moment embraced saidar; life and joy filled her to near weeping. Wise Ones only used the Power when words had failed, but neither words nor steel would do here. She wished she had some idea of who to kill first." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Enough!\" Nynaeve's piercing shriek sliced the words short on every tongue. Astonished faces swiveled toward her. Her head swung dangerously, and she stabbed a finger at the Knitting Circle. \"Stop behaving like children!\" Although she had moderated her tone, it was by hairs. \"Or do you mean to squabble until the Forsaken come to scoop up the Bowl and us? And you,\" that finger thrust at the Windfinders, \"stop trying to wriggle out of your agreement! You won't get the Bowl until you've met every last word! Don't think you will!\" Nynaeve swung round on the Aes Sedai. \"And you...!\" Met by cool surprise, her flow of words tapered off into a sour grunt. The Aes Sedai had not joined in the shouting except to try quieting it. None shone with the light of saidar.\n\nThat was not enough to calm Nynaeve completely, of course. She tugged fiercely at her hat, plainly still full of anger she wanted to loose. But the Kinswomen were staring at the paving stones in red-faced chagrin, and even the Windfinders appeared a little abashed-a little-muttering to themselves yet refusing quite to meet Nynaeve's glare. The glow winked out around one woman after another, until only Aviendha still held to the Source.\n\nShe gave a start as Elayne touched her arm. She was getting soft. Letting people sneak upon her, jumping at a touch.\n\n\"This crisis seems to be weathered,\" Elayne murmured. \"Perhaps it's time to go before the next breaks out.\" A touch of color in her cheeks was the only sign that she had ever been angry. And a bit in Birgitte's; the two reflected one another in someways since the bonding." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Past time,\" Aviendha agreed. Much longer, and she would be a milk-hearted wetlander.\n\nEvery eye followed as she walked out into the open space in the center of the stableyard, to the spot she had studied and felt until she knew it with her eyelids closed. There was a joy in holding the Power, a joy in working saidar, that she could not have put into words. To contain saidar, to be contained by it, was to seem alive beyond any other time. A delusion, the Wise Ones said, as false and dangerous as a mirage of water in the Termool, yet it seemed more real than the paving stones beneath her feet. She fought the urge to draw more; already she held nearly as much as she could. Everyone crowded close as she began to weave the flows.\n\nThat there were things many Aes Sedai could not do still startled Aviendha, after all she had seen. Several of the Knitting Circle were strong enough, but only Sumeko and, surprisingly, Reanne openly studied what she was doing. Sumeko went so far as to shrug off the encouraging pats Nynaeve tried to give her-which earned a look of startled indignation from Nynaeve that Sumeko, her gaze fixed on Aviendha, never saw. All of the Windfinders had sufficient strength. They watched as hungrily as they had stared at the Bowl. The bargain gave them every right.\n\nAviendha focused, and the flows wove together, creating identity between this place and the place she and Elayne and Nynaeve had chosen on a map. She gestured as though opening tentflaps. That was no part of the weave Elayne had taught her, but it was almost all she could recall of what she herself had done, long before Egwene made her first gateway. The flows coalesced into a silvery, vertical slash that rotated and became an opening in the air, taller than a man and just as wide. Beyond lay a large clearing surrounded by trees twenty or thirty feet high, miles north of the city, on the far side of the river. Knee-high brown grass came right up to the gateway, swaying through in a small breeze; it had not truly turned, only seemed to. Some of those blades were sliced cleanly, though, some lengthwise. The edges of an opening gateway made a razor seem dull." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The gateway filled her with dissatisfaction. Elayne could make this weave with only apart of her strength, yet for some reason it required all but a fraction of Aviendha's. She was sure she could have woven a larger, as large as Elayne could, using the weaves she had made without thought while trying to escape Rand al'Thor what seemed a very longtime ago, but no matter how often she tried, only scraps came back to her. She felt no envy-rather, she took pride in her near-sister's accomplishments-but her own failure made shame surge in her heart. Sorilea or Amys would be hard on her, if they knew that. About the shame. Too much pride, they would call it. Amys should understand; she had been a Maiden. There was shame in failing at what you should be able to do. If she had not had to hold the weave, she would have runaway so no one could see her.\n\nThe departure had been carefully planned, and the whole stableyard sprang into motion as soon as the gateway opened fully. Two of the Knitting Circle pulled the hooded Shadowrunner to her feet, and the Windfinders hurriedly formed a line behind Renaile din Calon. The servants began bringing horses out of the stables. Lan, Birgitte, and one of Careane's Warders, a lanky man called Cieryl Arjuna, immediately darted through the gateway, one behind the other. Like Far Dareis Mai, Warders always claimed the right to scout ahead. Aviendha's feet itched to run after them, but there was no point. Unlike Elayne, she could not move more than five or six steps without this weave beginning to weaken, and the same if she tried to tie it off. It was very frustrating." }, { "from": "human", "value": "This time there was no real expectation of danger, so the Aes Sedai followed immediately, Elayne and Nynaeve as well." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Farms dotted that treed area thickly, and a wandering shepherd or a young couple seeking privacy might need guidance away from seeing too much, but no Shadowsouled or Shadowrunner could know that clearing; only she, Elayne, and Nynaeve did, and they had not spoken in the choosing, for fear of eavesdroppers. Standing in the opening, Elayne gave Aviendha a questioning look, but Aviendha motioned her to goon. Plans were meant to be followed unless there was reason to change them.\n\nThe Windfinders began filing slowly through to the clearing, each suddenly irresolute as she approached this thing she had never dreamed of, taking a breath before she entered. And abruptly, the prickling returned.\n\nAviendha's eyes rose to the windows overlooking the stableyard. Anyone might be hidden behind the white screens of intricate wrought iron and piercework carving. Tylin had ordered the servants to stay away from those windows, but who would stop Teslyn, or Joline, or.... Something made her look higher, to the domes and towers. Narrow walks ringed some of those slim spires, and on one, very high, was a black shape haloed by a sharp nimbus from the sun behind. A man.\n\nHer breath caught. Nothing in his stance, hands on the stone railing, spoke of danger, yet she knew he was the one who put that crawling between her shoulder blades. One of the Shadowsouled would not stand there simply watching, but that creature, that gholam.... Ice formed in her belly. He could be just a palace servant. He could be, but she did not believe it. No shame in knowing fear.\n\nAnxiously she glanced at the women still edging through the gateway with agonizing slowness. Half the Sea Folk were gone, and the Knitting Circle waited behind the rest with the Shadowrunner firmly in hand, their own unease at the passage warring with resentment that the Sea Folk women were allowed to go first. If she voiced her suspicions, the Kinswomen surely would run-mere mention of the Shadowsouled dried their mouths and turned their bowels to water-while the Windfinders might well try to claim the Bowl straightaway. With them, the Bowl stood above anything else. But only a blind fool stood scratching herself while a lion crept upon the herd she had been set to guard. She caught one of the Atha'an Miere by a red silk sleeve." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Tell Elayne-\" A face like smooth black stone turned to her; the woman somehow made full lips seem thin; her eyes were black pebbles, flat and hard." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "What message could she send that would not bring down all the troubles she feared from them? \"Tell Elayne and Nynaeve to be wary. Tell them enemies always come when you least want them. You must say this to her, without fail.\" The Windfinder nodded with barely concealed impatience, but surprisingly, she waited for Aviendha to release her before making her hesitant way through the gateway.\n\nThe walk upon the tower stood empty. Aviendha felt no relief. He could be anywhere. Making his way down to the stableyard. Whoever he was, whatever he was, he was dangerous; this was not a dust-funnel dancing in her imagination. The last four Warders had formed a square around the gateway, a guard who would be last to leave, and much as she despised their swords, she was grateful that someone there besides herself knew the use of sharp metal. Not that they would have anymore chance against a gholam, or worse, one of the Shadowsouled, than the servants waiting with the horses. Or than she herself.\n\nGrimly she drew the Power, until the sweetness of saidar grew near to pain. A hair beyond, and pain would almost become blinding agony for the moments needed to die or lose the ability completely. Would those shuffling women quicken their feet! No shame in feeling fear, but she was very much afraid that hers was painted on her face." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "CHAPTER 2\n\nUnweaving\n\nShe sensed Birgitte somewhere off to her left, roughly southwest she thought, and feeling quite content, clearly in no immediate danger. Careane, part of a protective circle gathered around Sareitha and the Bowl, cocked her head almost as if listening. Apparently her Cieryl was to the southeast. Which meant Lan was north. Oddly enough, north was the direction Nynaeve had settled down to watch, all the while muttering under her breath. Perhaps being married had created some sense of him in her. More likely, she had noticed a track that escaped Elayne. Nynaeve was as skilled at woodscraft as she was with herbs.\n\nFrom where Elayne stood at first, Aviendha was clearly visible through the gateway, studying the palace rooftops as if she expected an ambush. By her stance, she could have been carrying spears, ready to leap into battle in her riding dress. She made Elayne smile, hiding how distressed she was about her problems with the gateway, so much braver than she herself. But at the same time she could not help worrying. Aviendha was brave, and no one Elayne knew was better able to keep her head. She also might decide that ji'e\"toh required her to fight when there was no chance except in running. The light around her shone so brightly it was obvious she could not draw much more of saidar. If one of the Forsaken did appear....\n\nI should have stayed with her. Elayne rejected the thought immediately. Whatever excuse she gave, Aviendha would know the truth, and she was touchy as a man, sometimes. Most of the time. Especially when it bore upon her honor. With a sigh, Elayne let the Atha'an Miere crowd her farther from the gateway as they filed through. She stayed close enough to hear any shout on the other side, though. Close enough to leap to Aviendha's aid in a heartbeat. And for another reason." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Windfinders came through in order of rank, striving to keep their faces smooth, but even Renaile relaxed tight shoulders once her bare feet were beating down the tall brown grass. Some gave a little shiver, quickly suppressed, or glanced back with round eyes at the opening hanging in midair. One and all, they stared at Elayne suspiciously as they stepped by her, and two or three opened their mouths, perhaps to ask what she was doing, perhaps to ask-or tell-her to move. She was just as glad that they hurried on in obedience to Renaile's curt urgings. They would have their chance to tell Aes Sedai what to do soon enough; it did not have to start with her.\n\nThat thought made her stomach sink, and the number of them made her shake her head. They had the knowledge of weather to use the Bowl properly, yet even Renaile agreed-if reluctantly-that the more Power directed through the Bowl, the better the chances of being able to heal the weather. It must be directed with a precision impossible except for one woman alone or a circle, though. A full circle of thirteen it had to be. That thirteen certainly would include Nynaeve and Aviendha and Elayne herself, and probably a few of the Kin, but Renaile plainly intended to jump on the part of the bargain that said they would be allowed to learn any abilities the Aes Sedai could teach. The gateway had been the first, and forming a circle would be the second. A wonder she had not brought every Windfinder in the harbor. Imagine trying to deal with three or four hundred of these women! Elayne offered a small prayer of thanks that there were only twenty.\n\nShe was not standing thereto count them, though. As each Windfinder passed, barely more than apace away, she let herself feel the woman's strength in the Power. Earlier there had been time to get close enough to only a handful, what with all the trouble of convincing Renaile to come at all. Apparently achieving rank among the Windfinders had nothing to do with either age or strength; Renaile was far from the strongest even in the first three or four, while one woman toward the rear, Senine, had weathered cheeks and thickly grayed hair. Strangely, by the marks in her ears it seemed that Senine might once have worn more than six earrings, and thicker ones than she did now." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Elayne sorted and stored away faces and the names she knew with a growing sense of complacency." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Windfinders might have secured an upper hand of sorts, and she and Nynaeve might be in deep trouble, very deep, with both Egwene and the Hall of the Tower once the terms of their bargain became known, but none of these women would stand particularly high among Aes Sedai. Certainly not low, but not high. She told herself not to feel smug-it changed nothing in what they had agreed-yet it was very hard not to. These were the best the Atha'an could produce, after all. Herein Ebou Dar, anyway. And if they had been Aes Sedai, everyone of them, from Kurin, with her stony black stare, to Renaile herself, would have listened when she spoke and stood when she entered a room. If they were Aes Sedai and behaving as they should.\n\nAnd then the end of the line appeared, and she gave a start as a young Windfinder off one of the smaller ships passed her, around-cheeked woman called Rainyn, in plain blue silks, with barely a half-dozen ornaments hanging from her nose chain. The two apprentices, boyishly slim Talaan and big-eyed Metarra, scurried at the very tail with harried expressions. They had not earned the nose ring yet, much less the chain, and only a single thin gold earring in the left ear balanced the three in the right. Her eyes followed the three of them just short of staring. Perhaps not short of it, at that.\n\nThe Atha'an Miere clustered with Renaile again, most, like her, glaring hungrily at the Aes Sedai and the Bowl. The last three women stood at the rear, the apprentices with the air of those uncertain whether they had aright to be thereat all, Rainyn folding her arms in imitation of Renaile, yet doing little better than the other two. The Windfinder on a darter, the least of the Sea Folk vessels, likely seldom found herself in company with the Windfinder to her clan Wavemistress, not to mention the Windfinder to the Mistress of the Ships. Rainyn was easily as strong as Lelaine or Romanda, and Metarra on a level with Elayne herself, while Talaan.... Talaan, so meek in her red linen blouse, with eyes that seemed permanently downcast, came very close to Nynaeve. Very close. More, Elayne knew she herself had not yet reached her full potential, and neither had Nynaeve. How close were Metarra and Talaan? She had grown accustomed to knowing that only Nynaeve and the Forsaken were stronger than she. Well, Egwene, but she had been forced, and her own potential, and Aviendha's, matched Egwene's. So much for complacency, she told herself ruefully. Lini would have said it was what she deserved for taking things for granted." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Laughing softly at herself, Elayne turned back to check on Aviendha, but the Knitting Circle stood rooted to one spot in front of the gateway, twitching at cold stares from Careane and Sareitha. All but Sumeko, and she did not move away either for all that she had met the sisters' gazes. Kirstian appeared ready to burst into tears.\n\nSuppressing a sigh, Elayne herded the Kinswomen out of the way of the stable folk waiting to bring the horses through. The Knitting Circle went along like sheep-she was the shepherd, Merilille and the rest the wolves-and they would have moved faster if not for Ispan.\n\nFamelle, one of only four among the Knitting Circle without a touch of gray or white in her hair, and Eldase, a fierce-eyed woman when she was not looking at an Aes Sedai, held Ispan by the arms. They could not seem to decide between holding her firmly enough to keep her upright and not clutching her too tightly, with the result that the Black sister moved in a bobbing fashion, sagging halfway to her knees when they loosened their grips, then pulled backup just before she fell completely.\n\n\"Forgive me, Aes Sedai,\" Famelle kept murmuring to Ispan with a faint Taraboner accent. \"Oh, I am sorry, Aes Sedai.\" Eldase winced and gave a little moan every time Ispan stumbled. Just as if Ispan had not helped murder two of their number and the Light alone knew how many others. They were fussing over a woman who was going to die. The killings in the White Tower that Ispan had conspired at were enough to condemn her by themselves.\n\n\"Take her over there somewhere,\" Elayne told them, waving away from the gateway into the clearing. They obeyed, bobbing curtsies and nearly dropping Ispan, murmuring apologies to Elayne and to the hooded prisoner. Reanne and the rest scurried along, anxiously eyeing the sisters around Merilille." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Almost immediately the war of glares started up again, the Aes Sedai at the Kinswomen, the Knitting Circle at the Windfinders, and the Atha'an Miere at anybody their eyes fell on. Elayne clamped her teeth shut. She was not going to shout at them. Nynaeve always got better results with yells, anyway. But she did want to shake some sense into everyone of them, shake them until their teeth rattled. Including Nynaeve, who was supposed to begetting everyone organized instead of staring into the trees. But what if it had been Rand who was going to die unless she could find away to save him?\n\nSuddenly tears trembled on the edge of falling, stinging her eyes. Rand was going to die, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Peel the apple in your hand, girl, not the one on the tree, Lini's thin voice seemed to whisper in her ear. Tears are for after; they just waste time before.\n\n\"Thank you, Lini,\" Elayne murmured. Her old nurse was an irritating woman sometimes, never admitting that any of her charges had really grownup, but her advice was always good. Just because Nynaeve was slacking her duties was no reason for Elayne to slack hers.\n\nServants had started trotting horses through right on the heels of the Knitting Circle, beginning with the packhorses. None of those first animals carried anything so frivolous as clothes. They could walk if the riding horses needed to be abandoned on the other side of the gateway, and wear what they stood up in if the rest of the pack animals had to be left behind, but what was on those first horses could not be left for the Forsaken. Elayne motioned the leather-cheeked woman leading the very first to follow her aside, out of the way of the others." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Untying and tossing back the stiff canvas cover on one of the wide wicker panniers revealed a great heap of what appeared to be rubbish stuffed in every which way, right up to the top, some of it wrapped in cloth that was falling to pieces. The greater part of it probably was rubbish. Embracing saidar, Elayne began sorting. A rusted breastplate quickly went onto the ground, along with a broken table leg, a cracked platter, a badly dented pewter pitcher, and a bolt of rotted, unidentifiable cloth that almost broke apart in her hands.\n\nThe storeroom where they found the Bowl of the Winds had been stuffed full, things that should have been on a refuse heap jumbled in with more objects of the Power than just the Bowl, some in beetle-riddled casks or chests, some carelessly stacked. For hundreds and hundreds of years the Kin had hidden away all things they found that were connected to the Power, fearful of using them and fearful of delivering them to Aes Sedai. Until that very morning. This was the first chance Elayne had had to see what was worth keeping. The Light send that the Darkfriends had not gotten away with anything important; they had taken some, but certainly less than a quarter of what the room had held, rubbish included. The Light send she found something they could use. People had died to bring these things out of the Rahad.\n\nShe did not channel, just held the Power as she lifted each item. A chipped clay cup, three broken plates, a child's moth-eaten dress, and an old boot with a hole worn through the side all fell to the ground. A stone carving a little larger than her hand-it felt like stone; it might have been a carving, though it did not exactly look carved, for some reason-all deep blue curves vaguely like roots. It seemed to warm faintly at her touch; it held a... resonance... to saidar. That was the closest word she could think of. What it was meant to do, she had no idea, but it was a ter'angreal without any doubt. It went on the other side of her, away from the pile of rubbish." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The heap of refuse continued to grow, but so did the other, if more slowly, things that had nothing in common except the faint warmth and the sense of echoing the Power. A small box that felt like ivory, covered in wavering red and green stripes; she set it down carefully without opening the hinged lid. You could never tell what might trigger a ter'angreal. A black rod no thicker than her little finger, apace in length, stiff yet so flexible she thought she could have doubled it into a circle. A tiny stoppered vial that might have been crystal, with a dark red liquid inside. The figure of a stout, bearded man with a jolly smile, holding a book; two feet tall, it appeared to be age-darkened bronze and took both of her hands to move. Other things. Most was trash, though. And none was what she truly wanted. Not yet.\n\n\"Is this the time to be doing that?\" Nynaeve asked. She straightened hastily from the small cluster of ter'angreal, grimacing and rubbing her hand on her skirt. \"That rod feels like... pain,\" she muttered. The hard-faced woman holding the packhorse's head blinked at the rod and edged away.\n\nElayne eyed the rod-Nynaeve's occasional impressions about objects she touched could be useful-but she did not stop sorting. There had been too much pain lately to need anymore, surely. Not that what Nynaeve sensed was always that straightforward. The rod might have been present when a great deal of pain was caused without being the cause in itself. The pannier was almost empty; some of what was on the other side of the horse would have to be shifted to balance the weight. \"If there's an angreal in this somewhere, Nynaeve, I would like to find it before Moghedien taps one of us on the shoulder.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nynaeve grunted sourly, but she peered into the wicker basket.\n\nDropping another table leg-that made three, none of which matched-Elayne spared a glance for the clearing. All of the packhorses were out, and the mounts were coming through the gateway, now, filling the open space between the trees with bustle and confusion. Merilille and the other Aes Sedai already sat their saddles, barely concealing their impatience to be off, while Pol fussed hurriedly with her mistress's saddlebags, but the Windfinders.\n\nGraceful afoot, graceful on their ships, they were unused to horses. Renaile was trying to mount from the wrong side, and the gentle bay mare chosen for her danced slow circles around the liveried man who was gripping the bridle with one hand while tugging his hair in frustration with the other and vainly trying to correct the Windfinder. Two of the stablewomen were attempting to hoist Dorile, who served the Wavemistress of Clan Somarin, into her saddle, while a third, holding the gray's head, wore the tight face of someone trying not to laugh. Rainyn was on the back of a leggy brown gelding, but somehow without either foot in the stirrups or the reins in her hands and having considerable trouble finding any of them. And those three seemed to behaving the easiest time of it. Horses whinnied and danced and rolled their eyes, and Windfinders shouted curses invoices that could have been heard over a gale. One of them knocked a serving man flat with her fist, and three more stable folk were trying to catch mounts that had gotten free.\n\nThere was also what she had expected to see, if Nynaeve was no longer keeping her private watch. Lan stood by his black warhorse, Mandarb, dividing his gaze between the treeline, the gateway, and Nynaeve. Birgitte came striding out of the woods shaking her head, and a moment later, Cieryl, trotted from the trees, but with no sense of urgency. There was nothing out thereto threaten or inconvenience them." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Partnering with the author, carry on with the tale.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, magic\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: The Path of Daggers\nChapter: 13" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Quicksilver. A kingfisher flashing by faster than thought. Certainly faster than his thoughts. It would never have occurred to him to hide so... flagrantly. But he could seethe sense. It was like concealing the fact that you were a murderer by claiming to be a thief. Yet it might work.\n\nChuckling, he kissed her fingertip. \"The banner stays,\" he said. He supposed that meant the Wolfhead did, too. Blood and bloody ashes! \"Alliandre has to know the truth, though. If she thinks Rand means to set me up as King of Manetheren and take her lands....\"\n\nFaile rose so suddenly, turning away, that he was afraid he had made a mistake bringing up the Queen. Alliandre could lead to Berelain all too easily, and Faile smelled... prickly. Wary. But what she said, over her shoulder, was'Alliandre won't be a bit of trouble for Perrin Goldeneyes. That bird's as good as netted, husband, so it's time to put our minds on how to find Masema.\" Kneeling gracefully beside a small chest against the tent wall, the only chest without draperies, she lifted the lid and began removing rolled maps.\n\nPerrin hoped she was right about Alliandre, because he did not know what to do if she was wrong. If only he were half what she thought him. Alliandre was a netted bird, the Seanchan would fall over like dolls for Perrin Goldeneyes, and he would snatch up the Prophet and take him to Rand if Masema had ten thousand men around him. Not for the first time he realized that however much her anger hurt and confused him, it washer disappointment he feared. If he ever saw that in her eyes, it would rip the heart out of his chest." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He knelt beside her and helped her spread out the largest map, covering the south of Ghealdan and the north of Amadicia, and studied it as though Masema's name would leap off the parchment at him. He had more reason than Rand to want to succeed. Whatever else, he could not fail Faile.\n\nFaile lay in the darkness, listening until she was sure that Perrin's breath had the deep rhythm of sleep, then slipped out from the blankets they shared. Rueful amusement touched her as she pulled her linen nightdress up over her head. Did he really think she would not find out that he had hidden the bed deep in a copse one morning while the carts were being loaded? Not that she minded; not a great deal, at least. She was sure she had slept on the ground as often as he. She had pretended surprise, of course, and made light of it. Anything else, and he would have apologized, perhaps even gone back to fetch the bed. Managing a husband was an art, so her mother said. Had Deira ni Ghaline ever found it so difficult?\n\nScuffing her bare feet into slippers, she shrugged into a silk robe, then hesitated, looking down at Perrin. He would be able to see her clearly, if he woke, but to her, he was just a shadowed mound. She wished her mother were there, now, to advise her. She loved Perrin with every fiber of her being, and he confused every fiber. Actually understanding men was impossible, of course, but he was so unlike anyone she had grownup with. He never swaggered, and instead of laughing at himself, he was... modest. She had not believed a man could be modest! He insisted that only chance had made him a leader, claimed he did not know how to lead, when men who met him were ready to follow after an hour. He dismissed his own thinking as slow, when those slow, considering thoughts saw so deeply that she had to dance a merry jig to keep any secrets at all. He was a wonderful man, her curly-haired wolf. So strong. And so gentle. Sighing, she tiptoed from the tent. His ears had caused her difficulties before." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The camp lay quiet beneath a gibbous moon that gave as much light in a cloudless sky as it normally would have full, a brightness that washed out the stars. Some sort of night-bird cried shrilly, then fell silent at an owl's deep hoot. There was a small breeze, and fora wonder, it actually seemed a little cool. Probably her imagination. The nights were cool only in comparison to the days.\n\nMost of the men were asleep, dark humps among the shadows beneath the trees. A few remained awake, talking around the handful of fires still burning. She made no effort to hide, but none noticed her. Some appeared half asleep where they sat, heads nodding. If she had not known how well the men on sentry duty would be keeping watch, she might have thought the camp could be surprised by a herd of wild cattle. Of course, the Maidens would be on guard in the night, too. But it did not matter if they saw her, either.\n\nThe high-wheeled carts made long, shadowed rows, the servants already snug and snoring beneath. Most of the servants. One fire still crackled there. Maighdin and her friends sat around it. Tallanvor was talking, gesturing fiercely, but only the other men seemed to be paying him any mind, though he appeared to be addressing himself to Maighdin. That they had had better garb in their bundles than those near rags was not surprising, but their former mistress must have had a very freehand to give out silk to her people, and Maighdin wore finely cut silk indeed, in a muted blue. None of the others was dressed so well, so perhaps Maighdin had been their lady's favorite.\n\nA twig snapped under Faile's foot, and heads whipped around, Tallanvor starting to his feet, half drawing his sword before he saw her gathering her robe in the moonlight. They were more alert than the Two Rivers men behind her. For an instant the lot of them just stared at her; then Maighdin rose gracefully and made a deep curtsy, and the others hastily followed her example with varying degrees of skill. Only Maighdin and Balwer appeared at all at ease. A nervous smile split Gill's round face." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Goon with what you were doing,\" Faile told them kindly. \"But don't stay up too late; tomorrow will be full.\" She walked on, but when she glanced back, they were still standing, still peering after her. Their travels must have made them wary as rabbits, always watching fora fox. She wondered how well they would fit in. Over the next few weeks, she would be busy training them to her ways, learning theirs. One was as important as the other fora well-run household. The time would have to be found.\n\nThey did not stay long in her thoughts tonight. Soon she was beyond the carts, not quite out to where Two Rivers men would be keeping sharp watch from up in the trees. Nothing larger than a mouse would get by them unseen-even some of the Maidens had been spotted upon occasion-but they were watching for anyone attempting to sneak in. Not for those who had aright to be there. Ina small moonlit clearing, her people were waiting.\n\nSome of the men bowed, and Parelean nearly went to one knee before stopping himself. Several women instinctively made curtsies that looked quite peculiar in men's garb, then dropped their eyes or shifted in embarrassment at realizing what they had done. The manners of the court had been bred into them, though they tried very hard to adopt Aiel customs. What they believed were Aiel customs, at least. Sometimes they horrified the Maidens with what they believed. Perrin called them fools, and they were in someways, but they had sworn fealty to her, these Cairhienin and Tairens-water oath, they named it, copying the Aiel, trying to-and that made them hers. Among themselves they had taken to calling their'society\" Cha Faile, the Falcon's Talon, though they had seen the necessity of keeping that quiet. They were not fools in all ways. In fact, around the edges anyway, they were not too unlike the young men and women she had grownup with." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Those she had sent off early that morning had just returned, for the women among them were still changing out of the dresses they had worn of necessity. Even one woman dressed as a man would have roused notice in Bethal, not to mention five. The clearing was a great flurry of skirts and shifts, coats and shirts and breeches. The women made believe they did not mind being unclothed in front of others, including men, since the Aiel apparently did not, but haste and labored breathing gave them the lie. The men were all shifting feet and turning heads, torn between looking away decently and watching, as they thought the Aiel did, while pretending they were not looking at half-dressed women. Faile held her robe close over her nightdress; she could not have dressed further without waking Perrin for sure, but she made no pretense at comfort. She was no Domani, to receive her retainers in her bath.\n\n\"Forgive us for being late, my Lady Faile,\" Selande panted, tugging her coat on. The accents of Cairhien were sharp in the short woman's voice. Even fora Cairhienin, she was not tall. She managed a credible swagger, though, a suitable boldness in the tilt of her head and the set of her shoulders. \"We would have returned sooner, but the gate guards made a bother letting us out.\"\n\n\"A bother?\" Faile said sharply. If only she could have seen with her own eyes, on top of theirs; if only Perrin had let her go instead of that trollop. No, she would not think about Berelain. It was not Perrin's fault. She repeated that to herself twenty times a day, like a prayer. But why was the man so blind? \"What kind of bother?\" She drew a chagrined breath. Troubles with your husband should never affect your tone with your vassals." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Nothing of note, my Lady.\" Selande buckled her sword belt and settled it on her hips. \"They let some fellows ahead of us drive their wagons through without a second look, but they were worried about letting women go out into the night.\" Some of the other women laughed. The five men who had gone into Bethal stirred irritably, no doubt because they had not been thought enough protection. The rest of Cha Faile made a thick semicircle behind those ten, watching Faile closely, listening closely. Moonlight shadowed their faces.\n\n\"Tell me what you saw,\" Faile commanded in a calmer tone. Much better.\n\nSelande made her report concisely, and for all Faile's wishes that she had gone herself, she had to admit they had seen almost as much as she could have wished. The streets of Bethal were nearly empty even at the busiest hours of the day. People stayed to their own homes as much as possible. A little commerce trickled in and out, but few merchants ventured into this part of Ghealdan, and barely enough food came in from the countryside to keep everyone fed. Most of the townspeople seemed stunned, afraid of what lay outside the walls, sinking deeper and deeper into apathy and despair. Everyone kept their mouths closed for fear of the Prophet's spies, and their eyes as well, for fear of being taken for spies. The Prophet had a deep effect. For instance, however many bandits roamed the hills, cutpurses and footpads had vanished from Bethal. It was said the Prophet's penalty fora thief was to cutoff the man's hands. Though that did not seem to apply to his own people.\n\n\"The Queen tours the city everyday, showing herself to keep spirits up,\" Selande said, \"but I do not think it helps much. She is making a progress herein the south to remind people they have a Queen; maybe she has had more success elsewhere. The Watch has been added to the wall guards, and all but a handful of her soldiers, too. Perhaps it makes the townsfolk feel safer. Until she moves on. Unlike everyone else, Alliandre herself apparently feels no fear the Prophet will come storming over the walls. She walks alone in the gardens of Lord Telabin's palace, morning and evening, and keeps only a few soldiers, who spend most of their time in the kitchens. Everybody in the city seems as concerned with food, with how long there will be enough, as they are with the Prophet. In truth, my Lady, for all the guards on the walls, I think if Masema appeared at the gates alone, they might give him the town.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"They would,\" Meralda put in contemptuously, buckling her own sword round her waist, \"and beg for mercy.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dark and stocky, Meralda was as tall as Faile, but the Tairen woman ducked her head at a frown from Selande and murmured an apology. There were no doubts who led Cha Faile, after Faile herself.\n\nShe had been pleased there was no need to change the precedence they had established. Selande was the brightest of them except perhaps for Parelean, and only Arrela and Camaille were quicker. And Selande had something extra, a steadiness, as if she had already faced the worst fear in her life and nothing could ever be that bad again. Of course, she wanted a scar like those some of the Maidens had. Faile possessed several small scars, badges of honor most of them, but actually seeking one was idiocy. At least the woman was not too very eager in the matter.\n\n\"We made a map, as you required, my Lady,\" the diminutive woman finished with a last, warning glance at Meralda. \"We marked out Lord Telabin's palace on the back as much as we could, but I fear that is not much more than the gardens and stables.\"\n\nFaile did not try to make out the lines on the paper she unfolded in the moonlight. A pity she had not been able to go herself; she could have mapped the interior, too. No. Done was done, as Perrin liked to say. And it was enough. \"You are certain no one searches wagons leaving the city?\" Even in the pale light, she could see confusion on many of the faces in front of her. None knew why she had sent some of them into Bethal.\n\nSelande did not look confused. \"Yes, my Lady,\" she said calmly. Quite bright, and more than quick enough.\n\nThe wind gusted fora moment, rustling leaves on the trees, rustling dead leaves on the ground, and Faile wished she had Perrin's ears. His nose and eyes, too. It did not matter if anyone saw her herewith her retainers, but eavesdroppers would be something else. \"You've done very well, Selande. All of you have.\" Perrin knew the dangers here, as real as any farther south; he knew, but like most men, he thought with his heart as often as his head. A wife had to be practical, to keep her husband out of trouble. That had been her mother's very first piece of advice on married life. \"At first light, you will return to Bethal, and if you receive word from me, this is what you will do....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Even Selande's eyes widened in shock as she went on, but no one murmured the slightest protest." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Faile would have been surprised if anyone had. Her instructions were to the point. There would be some danger, but under the circumstances, not nearly what might have been.\n\n\"Are there any questions?\" she said finally. \"Does everyone understand?\"\n\nWith one voice, Cha Faile answered. \"We live to serve our Lady Faile.\" And that meant they would serve her beloved wolf, whether he wanted them to or not.\n\nMaighdin shifted in her blankets on the hard ground, sleep eluding her. That washer name, now; anew name fora new life. Maighdin, for her mother, and Dorlain, fora family on an estate that had been hers. Anew life for an old life gone, butties of the heart could not be cut. And now.... Now....\n\nA faint crackle of dead leaves brought her head up, and she watched a dim shape pass through the trees. The Lady Faile, returning to her tent from wherever she had gone. A pleasant young woman, kindhearted and well spoken. Whatever her husband's stock, she almost certainly was nobly born. But young. Inexperienced. That might be a help.\n\nMaighdin let her head fallback on the cloak she had wadded up fora pillow. Light, what was she doing here? Taking service as a lady's maid! No. She would hold onto her confidence in herself, at least. She could still find that. She could. If she dug deeply. Her breath caught at the sound of footsteps close by.\n\nTallanvor knelt gracefully at her side. He was shirtless, moonlight gleaming on the smooth muscles of his chest and shoulders, his face in shadows. A slight breeze ruffled his hair. \"What madness is this?\" he asked softly. \"Entering service? What are you up to? And don't tell me that nonsense about making anew life; I don't believe it. No one does.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "She tried to turn away, but he laid a hand on her shoulder." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He exerted no pressure, yet it stopped her as surely as a halter. Light, please let her not tremble. The Light did not listen, but at least she managed to keep her voice steady. \"If you haven't noticed, I must make my way in the world, now. Better as a lady's maid than a tavern maid. You may feel free to goon alone if service here doesn't suit.\"\n\n\"You didn't abdicate your wits or your pride when you gave up the throne,\" he muttered. Burn Lini for revealing that! \"If you mean to pretend that you did, I suggest you avoid letting Lini get you alone.\" The man chuckled at her! He chuckled, oh, so richly! \"She wants a word with Maighdin, and I suspect she won't be as gentle with Maighdin as she was with Morgase.\"\n\nAngrily she sat up, brushing his hand away. \"Are you blind, and deaf as well? The Dragon Reborn has plans for Elayne! Light, I wouldn't like it if he simply knew her name! It must be more than chance that brought me to one of his henchmen, Tallanvor. It has to be!\"\n\n\"Burn me, I knew it must be that. I hoped I was wrong, but....\" He sounded as angry as she. He had no right to be angry! \"Elayne is safe in the White Tower, the Amyrlin Seat won't let her anywhere near a man who can channel, even if he is the Dragon Reborn-especially if he is!-and Maighdin Dorlain can do nothing about the Amyrlin Seat, the Dragon Reborn, or the Lion Throne. All she can do is get her neck snapped, or her throat cut, or-!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Maighdin Dorlain can watch!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "she broke in, at least partly to stop that awful litany. \"She can listen! She can...!\" Irritably, she trailed off. What could she do? Suddenly she realized she was sitting therein a thin shift and hurriedly folded her blankets around her. The night actually seemed a little cool. Or maybe the goosebumps on her skin were from Tallanvor's unseen eyes on her. The thought roused a flush in her cheeks she hoped he could not see. Luckily, it put a heat in her voice, too. She was not a girl, to go blushing because a man looked at her! \"I will do what I can, whatever that is. The chance will come to learn something or do something that will help Elayne, and I will take it!\"\n\n\"A dangerous decision,\" he told her calmly. She wished she could make out his face in the darkness. Only to read his expression, of course. \"You heard him threaten to hang anyone who looked at him the wrong way. I can believe it, in a man with those eyes. Like a beast. I was surprised he let that fellow go; I thought he'd rip his throat out! If he discovers who you are, who you used to be.... Balwer might betray you. He never really explained why he helped us escape Amador. Maybe he thought Queen Morgase would give him anew position. Now he knows there's no chance of that, and he might want to curry favor with his new master and mistress.\"\n\n\"Are you afraid of Lord Perrin Goldeneyes?\" she demanded contemptuously. Light, the man frightened her! Those eyes belonged on a wolf. \"Balwer knows enough to hold his tongue. Anything he says will reflect on him; he came with me, after all. If you're afraid, then ride on!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You always fling that in my face,\" he sighed, settling back on his heels. She could not see his eyes, but she could feel them. \"Ride on if you wish, you say. Once, there was a soldier loved a queen from afar, knowing it was hopeless, knowing he could never dare speak. Now the queen is gone, and only a woman remains, and I hope. I burn with hope! If you want me to leave, Maighdin, say it. One word. \"Go!\" A simple word.\"\n\nShe opened her mouth. A simple word, she thought. Light, it's only one word! Why can't I say it! Light, please! For the second time that night, the Light failed to hear. She sat there huddled in her blankets like a fool, her mouth open, her face growing hotter and hotter.\n\nIf he had chuckled again, she would have put her belt knife in him. If he had laughed, or given any sign of triumph.... Instead, he leaned forward and gently kissed her eyes. She made a sound deep in her throat; she could not seem to move. Wide-eyed, she watched him stand. He loomed in the moonlight. She was a queen-she had been a queen-used to command, used to hard decisions in hard times, but right then the pounding of her heart drummed thought from her head.\n\n\"Had you said \"go,\"\" he told her, \"I'd have buried hope, but I could never leave you.\"\n\nNot until he was back in his own blankets could she make herself lie down and draw hers around her. She breathed as if she had been running. The night was cool; she was shivering, not trembling. Tallanvor was too young. Too young! Worse, he was right. Burn him for that! A lady's maid could do nothing to affect events, and if the Dragon Reborn's wolf-eyed killer learned that he had Morgase of Andor in his hands, she could be used against Elayne instead of helping her. He had no right to be right when she wanted him to be wrong! The illogic of that thought infuriated her. There was a chance she might do some good! There had to be!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In the back of her head, a small voice laughed. You can't forget that you're Morgase Trakand, it told her scornfully, and even after she's abdicated her throne, Queen Morgase can't stop trying her hand in the affairs of the mighty, no matter how much ruin she's made of it so far. And she can't tell a man to go away, either, because she can't stop thinking how strong his hands are, and how his lips curve when he smiles, and-\n\nFurious, she pulled the blanket over her head, trying to shutout the voice. She was not staying because she could not walkaway from power. As for Tallanvor.... She would set him firmly in his place. This time she would! But.... What was his place, with a woman who was no longer a queen? She tried to put him out of her mind and tried to ignore that mocking voice that would not be quiet, yet when sleep finally came, she could still feel the pressure of his lips on her eyelids." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "CHAPTER 9\n\nTangles\n\nHe dressed in the dark and scrubbed his teeth with salt, needing no lamps, and when he left the tent, stamping his feet into his boots, Faile had her new servants gathered around her in the deep grayness of early morning, some holding lighted lanterns. A lord's daughter needed servants; he should have arranged for it before this. There were Two Rivers folk in Caemlyn that Faile had trained herself, but with the need for secrecy there had been noway to fetch them along. Master Gill would want to go home as soon as possible, and Lamgwin and Breane with him, but maybe Maighdin and Lini would stay.\n\nAram straightened from where he had been sitting cross-legged beside the tent, and waited silently on Perrin. If Perrin had not stopped him, Aram would have slept across the entrance. This morning his coat was striped red-and-white, though the white was a trifle dingy, and even here that wolfhead-pommeled sword hilt rose over his shoulder. Perrin had left his axe in the tent, and grateful to be rid of it. Tallanvor still wore his sword belted over his coat, but not Master Gill or the other two.\n\nFaile must have been watching, because no sooner did Perrin come out than she gestured toward the tent, clearly issuing orders. Maighdin and Breane came bustling past him and Aram with lanterns, their jaws set, smelling of determination for some reason. Neither curtsied, a pleasant surprise. Lini did, a quick bend of the knee before she darted after the other two muttering about'knowing their place.\" Perrin suspected Lini was one of those women who saw her'place\" as being in charge. Come to think of it, most women did. That was the way of the world, it seemed, not just the Two Rivers." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Tallanvor and Lamgwin followed close behind the women, and Lamgwin was as serious about bowing as Tallanvor, who was almost grim. Perrin sighed and bowed back, and they both gave a start, gaping at him. A curt shout from Lini jerked them into the tent.\n\nWith only a quickly flashed smile for him, Faile strode off toward the carts, talking alternately to Basel Gill on one side of her and Sebban Balwer on the other. The men each held a lantern out to light her way. Of course, a double handful of those idiots kept pace where they could hear if she raised her voice, strutting and stroking sword hilts and staring about in the dimness as though they expected an attack or hoped for one. Perrin tugged at his short beard. She always found plenty of work to fill her hours, and nobody took it out of her hands. Nobody would dare.\n\nNot so much as the first fingers of dawn showed on the horizon yet, but the Cairhienin were beginning to stir around the carts, and moving more quickly the closer Faile came. By the time she reached them, they appeared to be trotting, their lanterns bobbing and swinging in the dimness. The Two Rivers men, used to farmers' days, were already making breakfast, some laughing and roughhousing around their cook fires, some grumping, but most getting the work done. A few tried to stay in their blankets and were unceremoniously tumbled out. Grady and Neald were up, too, as always off by themselves, shadows in black coats among the trees. Perrin could not recall seeing them without those coats, always buttoned to the neck, always clean and unwrinkled come sunrise, whatever they had looked like the night before. Stepping through the forms in unison, the pair were practicing the sword as they did every morning. That was better than their evening practice, when they would sit cross-legged, hands on knees, staring at some distant nothing. They never did anything then that anyone could see, yet not a man in the camp but knew what they were about and kept as far off as possible. Not even the Maidens would step into their line of sight then." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Something was missing, Perrin realized with a start. Faile always had one of the men meet him first thing with a bowl of the thick porridge they breakfasted on, but it seemed she had been too busy this morning. Brightening, he hurried toward the cook fires, hoping at least to be able to dip up his own porridge for once. A small hope.\n\nFlann Barstere, a lanky fellow with a dentin his chin, met him halfway and shoved a carved bowl into his hands. Flann was from up toward Watch Hill, and Perrin did not know him well, but they had been hunting together a time or two, and once Perrin had helped him dig one of his father's cows out of a boghole in the Waterwood. \"The Lady Faile told me to bring this to you, Perrin,\" Flann said anxiously. \"You won't tell her I forgot, will you? You won't tell? I found some honey, and I put in a good dollop.\" Perrin tried not to sigh. At least Flann had remembered his name.\n\nWell, maybe he could not getaway with doing the simplest chores for himself, but he was still responsible for the men eating beneath the trees. Without him, they would be with their families, getting ready for the day's chores around the farm, milking cows and cutting firewood instead of wondering whether they might have to kill or be killed before sunset. Gulping down the honeyed porridge quickly, he told Aram to take his ease over breakfast, but the man looked so miserable that he relented, so Aram followed as he made his way around the camp. The journey was not one Perrin enjoyed.\n\nMen put down their bowls when he approached, or even stood until he passed. He gritted his teeth whenever somebody he had grownup with, or worse, a man who had sent him on errands as a boy, called him Lord Perrin. Not everyone did, but too many. Far too many. After a time, he gave up telling them to stop out of sheer weariness; all too often the reply was'Oh! Whatever you say, Lord Perrin.\" It was enough to make a man howl!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Despite that, he made himself pause to speak a word or two to every man. Mainly, though, he kept his eyes open. And his nose. They all knew enough to keep their bows in good repair and tend the fletching and points on their arrows, but some would wear the soles out of their boots or the bottom out of their breeches without noticing, or let blisters fester because they could not be bothered to do anything about them just yet. Several had the habit of picking up brandy when they could, and two or three of those had no head for it at all. There had been a small village the day before reaching Bethal that held no fewer than three inns.\n\nIt was very strange. Having Mistress Luhhan or his mother tell him he needed new boots or his breeches mended had always been embarrassing, and he was sure he would have been irritated at the same from anybody else, but from grizzled old Jondyn Barran on down, the Two Rivers men just said'Why, right you are, Lord Perrin; I'll see to it straightaway\" or some such. He caught a number of them grinning atone another when he moved on. And they smelled pleased! When he rooted a clay jar of pear brandy out of Jori Congar's saddlebags-a skinny fellow who ate twice as much as anyone else and always looked as if he had not had a bite in a week, Jori was a good shot with a bow, but given a chance he would drink until he could not stand, and he had light fingers besides-Jori gave him a wide-eyed look and spread his hands as if he did not know where the jar had come from. But as Perrin walked on, emptying the brandy onto the ground, Jori laughed, \"You can't put anything over on Lord Perrin!\" He sounded proud! Sometimes, Perrin thought he was the only sane person left." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Another thing, he noticed. One and all, they were very interested in what he did not say. Man after man cast an eye toward the two banners that occasionally flapped atop their poles in a brief gust, Red Wolfhead and Red Eagle. They eyed the banners and watched him, waiting for the order he had given every time the things had come out since reaching Ghealdan. And often enough before that. Except that he had said nothing yesterday, and he said nothing today, and he saw speculation blooming on men's faces. He left behind clusters of men peering at the banners and at him, murmuring excitedly among themselves. He did not try to listen. What would they say if he was wrong, if the Whitecloaks or King Ailron decided they could look away from the Prophet and the Seanchan long enough to snuff out a supposed rebellion? They were his responsibility, and he had already gotten too many of them killed.\n\nThe sun was more than peeking above the horizon, spreading a sharp morning light, by the time he finished, and over at the tent, Tallanvor and Lamgwin were lugging out chests under Lini's direction, while Maighdin and Breane appeared to be sorting the contents out on abroad patch of dead grass, blankets and linens mainly, and long bright swaths of silk satin that had been intended to drape the bed he had misplaced. Faile must have been inside, because that gaggle of idiots were cooling their heels not far off. No carrying and hauling for them. Useful as rats in the barn.\n\nPerrin thought about taking a look at Stayer and Stepper, but when he glanced through the trees at the horselines, he was seen. No fewer than three of the farriers stepped out anxiously, watching him. They were blocky men in leather aprons, alike as eggs in a basket, though Falton had only a fringe of white around his head, Aemin was graying, and Jerasid had not yet come into his middle years. Perrin growled at the sight of them. They would hover if he laid a hand on either horse, and goggle if he lifted a hoof. The onetime he had tried to change a worn shoe, on Stayer, all six farriers had darted about grabbing up tools before he could touch them, nearly knocking the bay over in their rush to do the work themselves." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They're afraid you don't trust them,\" Aram said suddenly. Perrin looked at him in surprise, and Aram shifted his shoulders in his coat. \"I've talked to them, some. They think if a lord tends his own horses, it must be because he doesn't trust them. You might send them off, with noway to get home.\" His tone said they were fools to think that, but he gave Perrin a sideways glance and shrugged again, uncomfortably. \"I think they're embarrassed, too. If you don't behave the way they think a lord should, it reflects on them, as they see it.\"\n\n\"Light!\" Perrin muttered. Faile had said the same-about them being embarrassed, anyway-but he had believed it just a lord's daughter talking. Faile had grownup surrounded by servants, yet how could a lady know the thoughts of a man who had to work for his bread? He frowned toward the horselines. Five of the farriers stood together watching him, now. Embarrassed that he wanted to look after his own horses, and upset that he did not want them pulling wool and scratching gravel allover the place. \"Do you think I ought to act like a fool in silk smallclothes?\" he asked. Aram blinked, and began studying his boots. \"Light!\" Perrin growled.\n\nSpotting Basel Gill hurrying from the direction of the carts, Perrin moved to meet him. He did not think he had done very well at making Gill feel at ease yesterday. The stout man was talking to himself and once more mopping his head with a kerchief, sweating away in a rumpled dark gray coat. The day's heat was beginning to take hold already. He did not see Perrin until Perrin was nearly on him, and then he gave a jump, stuffing the kerchief into a coat pocket and making a bow. He looked curried and brushed fit fora feastday." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Ah." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My Lord Perrin. Your Lady told me to take a cart into Bethal. She says I'm to find you some Two Rivers tabac, if I can, but I don't know that's possible. Two Rivers leaf has always been dear, and trade isn't what it was.\"\n\n\"She's sending you for tabac?\" Perrin said, frowning. He supposed secrecy had gone down the well, but still. \"I bought three casks, two villages back. Enough for everybody.\"\n\nGill shook his head firmly. \"Not Two Rivers leaf, and your Lady says you like that above any other. The Ghealdanin leaf will do for your men. I'm to be your shambayan, she called it, and keep you and her supplied with what you need. Not much different from what I did running the Blessing, really.\" The similarity seemed to amuse him; his belly shook with quiet chuckles. \"I have quite a list, though I can't say how much of it I'll find. Good wine, herbs, fruit, candles and lamp oil, oilcloth and wax, paper and ink, needles, pins, oh, all sorts of things. Tallanvor and Lamgwin and I are going, with some of your Lady's other retainers.\"\n\nHis Lady's other retainers. Tallanvor and Lamgwin were bringing out yet another chest for the women to sort through. They had to pass by the squatting clump of young fools, who never offered to lend a hand. In fact, the layabouts ignored them completely.\n\n\"You keep an eye on that lot,\" Perrin cautioned. \"If one of them starts any trouble-if he even looks as if he will-you have Lamgwin crack his head.\" And if it was one of the women? They were just as likely, maybe more so. Perrin grunted. Faile's\"retainers\" were going to tie his belly into permanent knots yet. Too bad she could not be satisfied with the likes of Master Gill and Maighdin. \"You didn't mention Balwer. Has he decided to goon alone?\" Just then, a shift in the breeze brought him Balwer's scent, an alert smell very much at odds with the fellow's almost desiccated exterior." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Even for so reedy a man, Balwer made surprisingly little noise on the dried leaves underfoot. Ina sparrow-brown coat, he offered a quick bow, and his tilted head added to the image of a bird. \"I am staying, my Lord,\" he said cautiously. Or maybe that was just his manner. \"As your gracious Lady's secretary. And yours, if it pleases you.\" He stepped closer, very nearly a hop. \"I am well versed, my Lord. I possess a good memory and write a good hand, and my Lord can be assured that whatever he confides in me will never pass my lips to another. The ability to keep secrets is a primary skill of a secretary. Don't you have pressing duties for our new mistress, Master Gill?\"\n\nGill frowned at Balwer, opened his mouth, then closed it with a snap. Spinning on his heel, he trotted away toward the tent.\n\nFora moment Balwer watched him go, head to one side, lips pursed thoughtfully. \"I can offer other services, as well, my Lord,\" he said finally. \"Knowledge. I overheard some of my Lord's men speaking, and I understand that my Lord may have had some... difficulties... with the Children of the Light. A secretary learns many things. I know a surprising amount about the Children.\"\n\n\"With any luck I can avoid Whitecloaks,\" Perrin told him. \"Better if you knew where the Prophet is. Or the Seanchan.\" He did not expect any of that, of course, but Balwer surprised him.\n\n\"I cannot be certain, of course, but I think the Seanchan have not spread far beyond Amador as yet. Fact is difficult to sift from rumor, my Lord, but I keep my ears open. Of course, they do seem to move with unexpected suddenness. A dangerous people, with large numbers of Taraboner soldiers. I believe from Master Gill that my Lord knows of them, but I observed them closely in Amador, and what I saw is at my Lord's disposal. As to the Prophet, there areas many rumors concerning him as the Seanchan, but I believe I can say reliably that he was recently at Abila, a largish town some forty leagues south of here.\" Balwer smiled thinly, a brief self-satisfied smile." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"How can you be so sure?\" Perrin said slowly.\n\n\"As I said, my Lord, I keep my ears open. The Prophet reportedly closed a number of inns and taverns, and tore down those he considered too disreputable. Several were mentioned, and by chance, I happen to know there are inns of those names in Abila. I think there is little chance another town would have inns with the same names.\" He flashed another narrow smile. He certainly, smelled pleased with himself.\n\nPerrin scratched his beard thoughtfully. The man just happened to remember where some inns that Masema supposedly had torn down were located. And if Masema turned out not to be thereafter all, well, these days rumors sprouted like mushrooms after rain. Balwer sounded a man trying to buildup his own importance. \"Thank you, Master Balwer. I'll keep that to mind. If you hear anymore, be sure to tell me.\" Ashe turned to go, the man caught his sleeve.\n\nBalwer's skinny fingers leaped away immediately, as though burned, and he made one of those birdlike bows, dry-washing his hands. \"Forgive me, my Lord. I hesitate to press, but do not take the Whitecloaks too lightly. Avoiding them is wise, but it may not be possible. They are much closer than the Seanchan. Eamon Valda, the new Lord Captain Commander, led most of their numbers toward northern Amadicia before Amador fell. He was hunting the Prophet, also, my Lord. Valda is a dangerous man, and Rhadam Asunawa, the Grand Inquisitor, makes Valda seem pleasant. And I fear neither has any love for your own Lord. Forgive me.\" He bowed again, hesitated, then went on smoothly. \"If I may say so, my Lord's display of Manetheren's banner is inspired. My Lord will be more than a match for Valda and Asunawa, if he takes care.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Watching him bow himself away, Perrin thought he knew part of Balwer's story now." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Clearly, he also had run afoul of the Whitecloaks. That could take no more than being on the same street with them, a frown at the wrong time, but it seemed Balwer had a grudge. A sharp mind, too, seeing right away about the Red Eagle. And a sharp tongue with Master Gill.\n\nGill was on his knees beside Maighdin, talking rapidly despite Lini's effort to hush him. Maighdin had turned to stare after Balwer as the fellow hurried through the trees toward the carts, but now and then her gaze swung to Perrin. The rest of them clustered close to her, peering now at Balwer, now at Perrin. If he had ever seen a group of people worried about what somebody else had said, it was they. But what were they worried he might have heard? Backbiting, probably. Tales of resentments and misdeeds, real or imagined. People cooped up together tended to start pecking atone another. If that was it, maybe he could put a stop before somebody drew blood. Tallanvor was fondling his sword hilt again! What did Faile intend to do with the fellow?\n\n\"Aram, I want you to go talk to Tallanvor and that lot. Tell them what Balwer said tome. Just slide it into the talk, but tell everything.\" That should soothe fears of tale-bearing. Faile said servants needed to be made to feel at home. \"Make friends with them if you can, Aram. But if you decide to moon over one of the women, be sure it's Lini. The other two are taken.\"\n\nThe man had a smooth tongue for any pretty woman, but he managed to look surprised and offended, both. \"As you wish, Lord Perrin,\" he muttered sulkily. \"I'll catch you up quickly.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I will be over with the Aiel.\"\n\nAram blinked. \"Ah. Yes. Well, it might take awhile, at that, if I'm to make friends with them. They don't look like they much want friends, tome.\" This from a fellow who stared suspiciously at anyone except Faile who came near Perrin and never smiled for anyone not wearing a skirt.\n\nNevertheless, he went over and squatted on his heels where he could speak to Gill and the others. Even from a distance their standoffishness was plain. They continued with their work, only now and then saying a word to Aram, and they looked at each other as often as at him. Skittish as green quail in summer, when the foxes were teaching the cubs to hunt. But at least they were talking.\n\nPerrin wondered what mischief Aram had gotten up to with the Aiel-there did not seem to have been anytime for it!-but he did not wonder long. Any serious trouble with Aiel usually meant someone dead, and not the Aiel. In truth, he was not so eager to meet the Wise Ones himself. He walked around the curve of the hill, but instead of climbing the slope, his feet carried him all the way to the Mayeners. He had stayed away from their camp as much as possible, too, and not simply because of Berelain. There were disadvantages to having too keen a nose.\n\nFortunately, a freshening breeze was carrying most of the stink away, though it did little for the heat. Sweat rolled down the faces of the mounted sentries in their red armor. At the sight of him, they sat up even more rigidly in their saddles, which was saying something. Where the Two Rivers men rode like fellows heading out to the fields, the Mayeners usually were statues on horseback. They could fight, though. The Light send there was no need." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Havien Nurelle came running, buttoning up his coat, before Perrin was well past the sentries. The dozen or soother officers followed at Nurelle's heels, all coated and some fastening the straps of their red breastplates. Two or three carried helmets with thin red plumes tucked under their arms. Most were years older than Nurelle, some twice his age, graying men with hard, scarred faces, but Nurelle's reward for helping to rescue Rand had been to be named Gallenne's second, his First Lieutenant, they called it.\n\n\"The First hasn't returned, yet, Lord Perrin,\" Nurelle said, making a bow mirrored by the others. A tall slender man, he did not look as young as he had before Dumai's Wells. There was an edge to his eyes, which had seen more blood than most veterans of twenty battles. But if his face was harder, there was still an eagerness to please in his scent. To Havien Nurelle, Perrin Aybara was a man who could fly or walk on water as he chose. \"The morning patrols saw nothing, those that are back. I would have reported, otherwise.\"\n\n\"Of course,\" Perrin told him. \"I... just wanted to look about a bit.\"\n\nHe simply meant to walk around until he could workup his nerve to face the Wise Ones, but the young Mayener followed him with the rest of the officers, anxiously watching for Lord Perrin to find some flaw in the Winged Guards, wincing whenever they came on bare-chested men tossing dice on a blanket or some fellow snoring away with the sun on the climb. He need not have bothered; to Perrin, the camp looked laid outwith a plumb line and level. Each man had his blankets, and his saddle fora pillow, not more than two paces from where his horse was tied to one of the long ropes drooping between chest-high poles set upright in the ground. A cook fire stood every twenty paces, with lances stacked in steel-tipped cones between. The whole made a sort of box around five peaked tents, one striped gold-and-blue and larger than the other four combined. All very different from the Two Rivers men's every-which-way arrangement." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Perrin walked along briskly, trying not to look too much a fool." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He was not sure how much success he was having. He itched to stop and look over a horse or two-just to be able to pickup a hoof without somebody practically fainting-but mindful of what Aram had said, he kept his hands to himself. Everyone seemed as startled as Nurelle at his pace. Tough-eyed bannermen chivvied men to their feet only to have Perrin stride by with a nod before they were all upright. A puzzled murmur trailed in the air behind him, and his ears caught a few comments about officers, lords in particular, that he was just as glad Nurelle and the others missed. Finally, he found himself on the verge of the camp, staring up the brushy slope toward the Wise Ones'tents. Only a few of the Maidens were visible among the scattered trees up there, and some of the gai'shain.\n\n\"Lord Perrin,\" Nurelle said hesitantly. \"The Aes Sedai.... He stepped closer and lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper.\" I know they swore to the Lord Dragon, and.... I've seen things, Lord Perrin. They do camp chores! Aes Sedai! This morning, Masuri and Seonid came down to fetch water! And yesterday, after you returned.... Yesterday, I thought I heard someone up there... crying out. It couldn't have been one of the sisters, of course,\"he added hurriedly, and laughed to show how ridiculous the idea was, a very shaky laugh.\" You.... You will see that everything is... all right... with them?\" He had ridden into forty thousand Shaido leading two hundred lancers, but talking about this had him hunching his shoulders and shifting his feet. Of course, he had ridden into forty thousand Shaido because an Aes Sedai wanted him to." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I'll do what I can,\" Perrin muttered." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Maybe matters were worse than he had thought. Now he had to stop them getting worse still. If he could. He would rather have faced the Shaido again.\n\nNurelle nodded as though Perrin had promised all he asked and more. \"That is well, then,\" he said, sounding relieved. Casting sideways glances at Perrin, he worked himself up to say something else, but apparently this was not so touchy as the Aes Sedai. \"I heard that you let the Red Eagle stay.\".\n\nPerrin very nearly jumped. Even for just around the hill, news had traveled fast. \"It seemed the thing to do,\" he said slowly. Berelain would have to know the truth, yet if too many knew, that truth would spread from the next village they passed, the next farm. \"This used to be part of Manetheren,\" he added, as if Nurelle did not know that perfectly well. Truth! He had gotten so he could bend truth like an Aes Sedai, and to men on his side. \"Not the first time that flag's been raised around here, I'll warrant, but none of those fellows had the Dragon Reborn behind him.\" And if that did not set the necessary seeds, he did not know how to plow a furrow.\n\nAbruptly he realized that what seemed every last one of the Winged Guards was watching him with their officers. No doubt wondering what he was saying, after all but running through that way. Even the lean balding old soldier Gallenne called his dogrobber had come out to stare, and Berelain's maids, a pair of plump plain-faced women garbed to match their mistress's tent. Perrin had hardly seen a thing, but he knew he had to give some sort of praise.\n\nRaising his voice enough to carry, he said, \"The Winged Guards will do Mayene proud if we ever face another Dumai's Wells.\" Those were the first words that came to mind, but he winced at saying them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "To his shock, shouting rose straightaway among the soldiers, cheering, \"Perrin Goldeneyes!\" and'Mayene for Goldeneyes!\" and'Goldeneyes and Manetheren!\" Men danced and capered, and some snatched lances from the stacks to shake them so the red streamers waved in the breeze. Grizzled bannermen watched them with arms folded, nodding approval. Nurelle beamed, and not only him. Officers with gray in their hair and scars on their faces grinned like boys praised at their lessons. Light, he was the only sane man left! He prayed never to see another battle!\n\nWondering whether this was going to cause trouble with Berelain, he made his goodbyes with Nurelle and the others and tramped up the slope through dead or dying brush, none of it waist-high. Brown weeds crackled beneath his boots. Shouting still filled the Mayener camp. Even after she learned the truth, the First might not be pleased to have her soldiers cheering him this way. Of course, that could have good points. Maybe she would be angry enough to stop pestering him.\n\nShort of the crest, he paused, listening to the cheers finally fade away. No one was going to cheer him here. All of the side flaps were down on the Wise Ones' low gray-brown tents, closing them in. Only a few of the Maidens were insight, now. Squatting easily on their heels beneath a leatherleaf that still showed some green, they eyed him curiously. Their hands moved quickly in that way they had of talking among themselves with signs. After a moment Sulin rose, shifting her heavy belt knife, and strode in his direction, a tall, wiry woman with a pink scar across her sun-dark cheek. She glanced back down the way he had come and seemed relieved that he was alone, though it was often hard to tell with Aiel." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"This is good, Perrin Aybara,\" she said quietly." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The Wise Ones have not been pleased that you make them come to you. Only a fool displeases Wise Ones, and I have not taken you fora fool.\"\n\nPerrin scrubbed at his beard. He had been keeping clear of the Wise Ones-and the Aes Sedai-as much as possible, but he had had no intention of forcing them to come to him. He just found their company uncomfortable. To put it mildly. \"Well, I need to see Edarra now,\" he told her. \"About the Aes Sedai.\"\n\n\"Perhaps I was mistaken after all,\" Sulin said dryly. \"But I will tell her.\" Turning, she paused. \"Tell me something. Teryl Wynter and Furen Alharra are close to Seonid Traighan-like first-brothers with a first-sister; she does not like men as men-yet they offered to take her punishment for her. How could they shame her so?\"\n\nHe opened his mouth, but nothing came out. A pair of gai'shain appeared from the reverse slope, each leading two of the Aiel's pack mules; the white-robed men passed within a few paces, heading down toward the stream. He could not be sure, but he thought both were Shaido. The pair kept their eyes meekly down, barely looking up enough to see where they were going. They had had every opportunity to runaway, doing chores like that without anyone to watch. A peculiar people.\n\n\"I see you are shocked, too,\" Sulin said. \"I had hoped you could explain. I will tell Edarra.\" As she started for the tents, she added over her shoulder, \"You wetlanders are very strange, Perrin Aybara.\"\n\nPerrin frowned after her, and when she vanished into one of the tents, he turned to frown at the two gai'shain leading the horses to water. Wetlanders were strange? Light! So Nurelle had been right in what he heard. It was beyond time to stick his nose into what was going on between the Wise Ones and the Aes Sedai. He should have before this. He wished he did not think it would be the same as sticking his nose into a hornet's nest." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It seemed to take along time for Sulin to reappear, and she did little to help his mood when she did. Holding the tentflap for him, she flicked his belt knife contemptuously with a finger as he ducked through. \"You should be better armed for this dance, Perrin Aybara,\" she said.\n\nInside, he was surprised to find all six Wise Ones sitting cross-legged on colorful tasseled cushions, their shawls tied around their waists and their skirts making carefully arranged fans across the layered rugs. He had hoped for just Edarra. None looked to be more than four or five years older than he, some no older at all, yet somehow they always made him feel as if he were facing the oldest members of the Women's Circle, the ones who had spent years learning to sniff out whatever you wanted to hide. Separating one woman's scent from another's was all but impossible, but he hardly needed to. Six sets of eyes latched onto him, from Janina's pale sky blue to Marline's purple twilight, not to mention Nevarin's sharp green. Every eye could have been a skewer.\n\nEdarra brusquely motioned him to take a cushion himself, which he did with gratitude, though it put him facing them all in a semicircle. Maybe Wise Ones had designed these tents, to make men bend their necks if they wanted to stand upright. Strangely, it was cooler in the dim interior, but he still felt like sweating. Maybe he could not pick one from another, yet these women smelled like wolves studying a tethered goat. A square-faced gai'shain who was half again as big as he was knelt to offer a golden cup of dark wine-punch on an elaborate silver tray. The Wise Ones already held mismatched silver cups and goblets. Unsure what it meant that he was being offered gold-maybe nothing, yet who could say, with Aiel?-Perrin took it cautiously. It gave off the scent of plums. The fellow bowed meekly enough when Edarra clapped her hands, and bent himself out of the tent backward, but the half-healed slash down his hard face had to date from Dumai's Wells." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Now that you are here,\" Edarra said as soon as the tentflap dropped behind the gai'shain, \"we will explain again why you must kill the man called Masema Dagar.\"\n\n\"We should not have to explain again,\" Delora put in. Her hair and eyes were nearly the same shade as Maighdin's, but no one would call her pinched face pretty. Her manner was pure ice. \"This Masema Dagar is a danger to the Car'a'carn. He must die.\"\n\n\"The dreamwalkers have told us, Perrin Aybara.\" Carelle certainly was pretty, and though her fiery hair and piercing eyes made her look as though she had a temper, she was always mild. Fora Wise One. And certainly not soft. \"They have read the dream. The man must die.\"\n\nPerrin took a swallow of plum punch to gain a moment. Somehow, the punch was cool. It was always the same with them. Rand had not mentioned any warning from the dreamwalkers. The first time, Perrin had mentioned that. Only the once; they had thought he was casting doubt on their word, and even Carelle had gone hot-eyed. Not that Perrin thought they would lie. Not exactly. He had not caught them in one, anyway. But what they wanted for the future and what Rand wanted-what he himself wanted, for that matter-might be very different things. Maybe it was Rand who was keeping secrets. \"If you could just give me some idea what this danger is,\" he said, finally. \"The Light knows, Masema's a madman, but he supports Rand. A fine thing, if I go around killing people on our side. That will certainly convince people to join Rand.\"\n\nSarcasm was lost on them. They looked at him, unblinking. \"The man must die,\" Edarra said at last. \"It is enough that three dreamwalkers have said so, and six Wise Ones tell you.\" The same as always. Maybe they did not know anymore than that. And maybe he should get on with why he had come." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I want to talk about Seonid and Masuri,\" he said, and six faces turned to frost. Light, these women could stare down a stone! Setting the winecup beside him, he leaned toward them stubbornly. \"I'm supposed to show people Aes Sedai sworn to Rand.\" He was supposed to show Masema, actually, but this did seem a good time to mention that. \"They aren't going to be very cooperative if you lot beat them! Light! They're Aes Sedai! Instead of making them haul water, why don't you learn from them? They must know all sorts of things you don't.\" Too late, he bit his tongue. The Aiel women did not take offense, though; not that it showed, anyway.\n\n\"They know somethings we do not,\" Delora told him firmly, \"and we know some they do not.\" As firmly as a spearpoint in the ribs.\n\n\"We learn what there is to learn, Perrin Aybara,\" Marline said calmly, combing nearly black hair with her fingers. She was one of the few Aiel he had seen with such dark hair, and she often toyed with it. \"And we teach what there is to teach.\"\n\n\"In any event,\" Janina said, \"it is none of your affair. Men do not interfere between Wise Ones and apprentices.\" She shook her head over his foolishness.\n\n\"You may stop listening outside and come in, Seonid Traighan,\" Edarra said suddenly. Perrin blinked in surprise, but none of the women batted an eye.\n\nThere was a moment of silence, then the tentflap twitched aside, and Seonid ducked inside, kneeling quickly on the rugs. That vaunted Aes Sedai serenity was shattered in her. Her mouth was a thin line, her eyes tight, her face red. She smelled of anger, frustration, and a dozen more emotions all whirling about so quickly that Perrin could barely separate any out. \"May I speak to him?\" she asked in a stiff voice." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"If you take care what you say,\" Edarra told her. Sipping her wine, the Wise One watched over the rim of her cup. A teacher watching a pupil? A hawk watching a mouse? Perrin could not be sure. Except that Edarra was very sure of her place, whatever the pairing. So was Seonid. But that did not carryover to him.\n\nShe twisted around to face him on her knees, back going straight, eyes heated. Anger raged in the smell of her. \"Whatever you know,\" she said angrily, \"whatever you think you know, you will forget!\" No, there was not a shred of serenity left in her. \"Whatever is between the Wise Ones and us is for us alone! You will stand aside, avert your eyes, and keep your mouth closed!\"\n\nAmazed, Perrin raked his fingers through his hair. \"Light, you're upset because I know you got a switching?\" he said incredulously. Well, he would have been, too, but not alongside the rest. \"Don't you know these women would as soon cut your throat as look at you? Slit your throat and leave you by the side of the road! Well, I promised myself I wouldn't let that happen! I don't like you, but I promised to protect you from the Wise Ones, or the Asha'man, or Rand himself, so comedown off that high horse!\" Realizing that he was shouting, he drew a deep, embarrassed breath and settled back on his cushion, snatched up his winecup and took along drink.\n\nSeonid went stiffer by the word with indignation, and her lip curled well before he finished. \"You promised?\" she sneered. \"You think Aes Sedai need your protection? You-?\"\n\n\"Enough,\" Edarra said quietly, and Seonid's jaw snapped shut, though her hands made white-knuckled fists clutching her skirts." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What makes you think we would kill her, Perrin Aybara?\" Janina asked curiously. Aiel seldom showed much on their faces, but the others frowned at him or looked with open incredulity.\n\n\"I know how you feel,\" he replied slowly. \"I've known since I saw you with the sisters after Dumai's Wells.\" He was not about to explain that he had smelled their hatred, their contempt, every time a Wise One looked at an Aes Sedai back then. He did not smell it now, but no one could maintain that level of fury for long without bursting. That did not mean it was gone, only that it had sunk deep, maybe into the bone.\n\nDelora snorted, a sound like linen ripping. \"First you say they must be coddled because you need them, and now because they are Aes Sedai and you have promised to protect them. Which is truth, Perrin Aybara?\"\n\n\"Both.\" Perrin met Delora's hard gaze fora long moment, then eyed each of the others in turn. \"Both are true, and I mean both.\"\n\nThe Wise Ones exchanged glances, the sort where every flicker of an eyelid held a hundred words and no man could make out a one. Finally, in a shifting of necklaces and readjusting of tied shawls, they appeared to reach agreement.\n\n\"We do not kill apprentices, Perrin Aybara,\" Nevarin said. She sounded shocked at the idea. \"When Rand al'Thor asked us to apprentice them, perhaps he thought it was just to make them obey us, but we do not speak empty words. They are apprentices, now.\"\n\n\"They will remain so until five Wise Ones agree they are ready to be more,\" Marline added, sweeping her longhair over her shoulder. \"And they are treated no differently than any others.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Edarra nodded over her winecup." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Tell him the advice you would give him concerning Masema Dagar, Seonid Traighan,\" she said.\n\nThe kneeling woman had practically writhed during Nevarin and Marline's short speeches, gripping her skirt until Perrin thought the silk might rip, but she wasted no time complying with Edarra's instructions. \"The Wise Ones are right, whatever their reasons. I do not say this because they wish it.\" She drew herself up again, smoothing her features with a visible effort. A touch of heat still flared in her voice, though. \"I saw the work of so-called Dragonsworn before I ever met Rand al'Thor. Death and destruction, to no purpose. Even a faithful dog must be put down if it begins to foam at the mouth.\"\n\n\"Blood and ashes!\" Perrin grumbled. \"How can I even let you insight of the man after that? You swore fealty to Rand; you know that isn't what he wants! What about that'thousands will die if you fail'?\" Light, if Masuri felt the same, then he had to put up with Aes Sedai and Wise Ones for nothing! No, worse. He would have to guard Masema from them!\n\n\"Masuri knows Masema for rabid as well as I,\" Seonid replied when he put the question to her. All of her serenity had returned. She regarded him with a cool, unreadable face. Her scent was sharply alert. Intent. As if he needed his nose, with her eyes fixed on his, big and dark and bottomless. \"I swore to serve the Dragon Reborn, and the best service I can give him now is to keep this animal from him. Bad enough that rulers know Masema supports him; worse if they see him embrace the man. And thousands will die if you fail-to get close enough to Masema to kill him.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Perrin thought his head would spin." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Again an Aes Sedai whirled words about like atop, made it seem she had said black when she meant white. Then the Wise Ones added their bit.\n\n\"Masuri Sokawa,\" Nevarin said calmly, \"believes the rabid dog can be leashed and bound so he maybe used safely.\" For an instant, Seonid looked as surprised as Perrin felt, but she recovered quickly. Outside, she did; her scent was suddenly wary, as if she sensed a trap where she had not expected one.\n\n\"She also wishes to fit you fora halter, Perrin Aybara,\" Carelle added, even more casually. \"She thinks you must be bound also, to make you safe.\" Nothing on her freckled face told whether she agreed.\n\nEdarra raised a hand toward Seonid. \"You may go, now. You will not listen further, but you may ask Gharadin again to let you Heal the wound on his face. Remember, if he still refuses, you must accept it. He is gai'shain, not one of your wetlander servants.\" She invested that last word with depths of scorn.\n\nSeonid stared icy augers at Perrin. She looked at the Wise Ones, her lips trembling on the brink of speech. In the end, though, all she could do was go with as good a grace as she could muster. Outwardly, that was considerable, an Aes Sedai being Aes Sedai fit to shame a queen. But the scent she trailed behind her was frustration sharp enough to cut.\n\nAs soon as she was gone, the six Wise Ones focused on Perrin again.\n\n\"Now,\" Edarra said, \"you can explain to us why you would put a rabid animal next to the Car'a\"carn.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Only a fool obeys another's command to push him over a cliff,\" Nevarin said.\n\n\"You will not listen to us,\" Janina said, \"so we will listen to you. Speak, Perrin Aybara.\"\n\nPerrin considered making a break for the doorflaps. But if he did, he would leave behind one Aes Sedai who might possibly be of some doubtful help, and another, along with six Wise Ones, who were all set to ruin everything he had come to do. He put his winecup down again, and settled his hands on his knees. He needed a clear head if he was to show these women he was no tethered goat." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Help to continue the narrative for the writer.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, magic\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: The Path of Daggers\nChapter: 17" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Do you really think she will learn your ways of weaving saidar?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Cadsuane asked, hiding her incredulity. Kiruna and the others had told her of these lessons, but many of the Wise Ones' weaves were very different from those taught in the White Tower. The first way you learned the weave fora particular thing imprinted itself on you; learning a second was all but impossible, and even when you could learn, the second-learned weave almost never worked nearly as well. That was one reason some sisters did not welcome wilders to the Tower at any age; too much might have been learned already, and could not be unlearned.\n\nSorilea shrugged. \"Perhaps. Learning a second way is hard enough without all the hand-waving you Aes Sedai do. The main thing Kiruna Nachiman must learn is that she owns her pride; it does not own her. She will be a very strong woman once she learns that.\" Pulling a chair around to face the one Cadsuane had been sitting in, she eyed it doubtfully, then sat down. She appeared almost as stiff and uncomfortable as Kiruna had, but she motioned authoritatively for Cadsuane to sit, a strong-willed woman used to command.\n\nCadsuane swallowed a rueful chuckle as she took her chair. It was well to be reminded that, wilders or not, the Wise Ones were far from ignorant savages. Of course they would know the difficulties. As for hand-waving.... Few had channeled where she could see, but she had noticed that they created some weaves without the gestures that sisters used. The hand movements were not truly part of the weave, but in away they were, because they had been part of learning the weave. Perhaps, once, there had been Aes Sedai who could, say, hurl a ball of fire without some sort of throwing motion, but if so, they were long dead, and their teachings with them. Today, somethings just could not be done without the appropriate gestures. There were sisters who claimed they could tell who had taught another sister by which motions she used for which weaves." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Teaching any of our new apprentices anything has been difficult at best,\" Sorilea went on. \"I do not speak to offend, but you Aes Sedai give oath, it seems, and immediately try to find away around it. Alanna Mosvani is particularly difficult.\" Suddenly her clear green eyes were very sharp on Cadsuane's face. \"How can we punish her willful failings if it means harming the Car'a'carn?\"\n\nCadsuane folded her hands in her lap. Masking surprise was not easy. So much for the secret of Alanna's crime. But why had the woman let her know that she knew? Perhaps one revelation called for another. \"The bond does notwork in that fashion,\" she said. \"If you kill her, he will die, then or soon after. Short of that, he will be aware of what happens to her, but he will not really feel it. As faraway as he is now, he will only be vaguely aware, at that.\"\n\nSorilea nodded slowly. Her fingers touched the golden tray on the table, then came away. Her expression was as hard to read as the face of a statue, but Cadsuane suspected that Alanna would find an unpleasant surprise the next time she let her temper flare, or threw one of her Arafellin sulks. That was unimportant, though. Only the boy was important.\n\n\"Most men will take what is offered, if it seems attractive and pleasant,\" Sorilea said. \"Once, we thought of Rand al'Thor so. Unfortunately, it is too late to change the path we walk. Now, he suspects whatever is offered freely. Now, if I wanted him to accept something, I would pretend I did not want him to have it. If I wanted to stay close to him, I would pretend indifference to whether I ever saw him again.\" Once more, those eyes focused on Cadsuane, green augers. Not trying to see what lay inside her head. The woman knew. Some, at least. Enough, or too much." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Still, Cadsuane felt arising thrill of possibility. If she had had any doubts that Sorilea wanted to feel her out, they were gone. And you did not feel out someone in this manner unless you hoped for some agreement. \"Do you believe a man must be hard?\" she asked. She was taking a chance. \"Or strong?\" By her tone, she left no doubt she saw a difference.\n\nAgain Sorilea touched the tray; the smallest of smiles might have quirked her lips for an instant. Or not. \"Most men seethe two as one and the same, Cadsuane Melaidhrin. Strong endures; hard shatters.\"\n\nCadsuane drew breath. A chance she would have scoured anyone else for taking. But she was not anyone else, and sometimes chances had to betaken. \"The boy confuses them,\" she said. \"He needs to be strong, and makes himself harder. Too hard, already, and he will not stop until he is stopped. He has forgotten how to laugh except in bitterness; there are no tears left in him. Unless he finds laughter and tears again, the world faces disaster. He must learn that even the Dragon Reborn is flesh. If he goes to Tarmon Gai'don as he is, even his victory maybe as dark as his defeat.\"\n\nSorilea listened intently, and kept silent even after Cadsuane finished. Those green eyes studied her. \"Your Dragon Reborn and your Last Battle are not in our prophecies,\" Sorilea said at last. \"We have tried to make Rand al'Thor know his blood, but I fear he sees us as only another spear. If one spear breaks in your hand, you do not pause to mourn before taking up another. Perhaps you and I aim at targets not too far apart.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Perhaps we do,\" Cadsuane said cautiously. Targets even a hand apart might be not at all alike.\n\nAbruptly, the glow of saidar surrounded the leather-faced woman. She was weak enough to make Daigian look at least moderately strong. But then, Sorilea's strength did not lie in the Power. \"There is a thing you may find useful,\" she said. \"I cannot make it work, but I can weave the flows to show you.\" She did just that, laying feeble skeins that fell into place and melted, too poor to do what they were intended for. \"It is called Traveling,\" Sorilea said.\n\nThis time, Cadsuane's jaw dropped. Alanna and Kiruna and the rest denied teaching the Wise Ones how to link, or a number of other skills they suddenly seemed to have, and Cadsuane had assumed the Aiel had managed to wring them out of the sisters held in the tents. But this was....\n\nImpossible, she would have said, yet she did not believe Sorilea was lying. She could hardly wait to try the weave herself. Not that it was of much use immediately. Even if she knew exactly where the wretched boy was, she had to make him come to her. Sorilea was right about that. \"Avery great gift,\" she said slowly. \"I have nothing I can give you to compare.\"\n\nThis time, there was no doubt of the brief smile that flashed across Sorilea's lips. She knew very well that Cadsuane was in her debt. Taking up the heavy golden pitcher with both hands, she carefully filled the small white cups. With plain water. She did not spill a drop.\n\n\"I offer you water oath,\" she said solemnly, picking up one of the cups. \"By this, we are bound as one, to teach Rand al'Thor laughter and tears.\" She sipped, and Cadsuane imitated her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We are bound as one.\" And if their targets turned out not to be the same at all? She did not underestimate Sorilea as ally or opponent, but Cadsuane knew which target had to be struck, at any cost." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "CHAPTER 13\n\nFloating Like Snow\n\nHe patted his black gelding's neck with a leather-gauntleted hand, glad that Tai'daishar did not show nerves. The massive animal might have been a statue, awaiting the pressure of reins or knees to move. It was good that the Dragon Reborn's horse seemed as cold as he did, as though they floated in the Void together. Even with the One Power raging through him, fire and ice and death, he was barely aware of the wind, though it flailed his gold-embroidered cloak about and cut through his coat, green silk thickly worked with gold and not intended for wear in such weather. The wounds in his side ached and throbbed, the old and the new cutting across it, the wounds that would never heal, but that was distant, too, another man's flesh. The Crown of Swords might have been pricking someone else's temples with the sharp points of the tiny blades among its golden laurel leaves. Even the filth woven through saidin seemed less obtrusive than it once had; still vile, still loathsome, but no longer worth notice. The nobles\" eyes on his back were palpable, though.\n\nShifting his sword hilt, he leaned forward. He could seethe tight cluster of low, wooded hills half a mile to the east as clearly as if he were using a looking glass. The land was flat, here, the only prominences those forested hills and this long ridge, thrusting up from the heath. The next thicket dense enough to truly deserve the name lay close to ten miles off. Only storm-battered half-leafless trees and tangles of undergrowth were visible on the hills, but he knew what they hid. Two, perhaps three thousand of the men Sammael had gathered to try to stop him from taking Illian." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That army had disintegrated once they learned that the man who had summoned them was dead, that Mattin Stepaneos had vanished, perhaps into the grave as well, and that there was anew king in Illian. Many had scattered back to their homes, yet just as many clung together. Usually no more than twenty here, thirty there, but a great army if they came together again, and countless armed bands otherwise. Either way, they could not be allowed to roam the countryside. Time weighed down on his shoulders like lead. There was never enough time, but maybe this once.... Fire and ice and death.\n\nWhat would you do? he thought. Are you there? And then, doubtfully, hating the doubt, Were you ever there? Silence answered, deep and dead in the emptiness that surrounded him. Or was there mad laughter somewhere in the recesses of his mind? Did he imagine it, like the feel of someone looking over his shoulder, someone just on the brink of touching his back? Or the colors that swirled just out of sight, more than colors, and were gone? A thing of madmen. His gloved thumb slid along the carvings that serpentined the Dragon Scepter. The long green-and-white tassels below the polished spear-point fluttered in the wind. Fire and ice, and death would come.\n\n\"I will go talk to them myself,\" he announced. Which produced a furor.\n\nLord Gregorin, the green sash of the Council of Nine slanted across his ornately gilded breastplate, hurried his fine-ankled white gelding forward from the Illianers, followed closely by Demetre Marcolin, First Captain of the Companions, on a solid bay. Marcolin was the only man among them without silk or a speck of lace, the only man in plain if brightly burnished armor, though the conical helmet resting on his saddle's high pommel did bear three thin golden plumes. Lord Marac lifted his reins, then let them fall uncertainly when he saw no others of the Nine move. A wide man with a stolid manner, and new to the Council, he often seemed more craftsman than lord despite the rich silks beneath his lavish armor and the falls of lace spilling over. High Lords Weiramon and Tolmeran spurred together from the Tairens, as crusted with gold and silver as any of the Nine, and Rosana, newly raised to High Lady and wearing a breastplate worked with the Hawk-and-Stars of her House. There, too, others half made as if to follow then hung back, looking worried. Blade-slender Aracome and blue-eyed Maraconn and bald-headed Gueyam were dead men; they did not know that, but however much they wanted to beat the center of power, they feared Rand would kill them. Only Lord Semaradrid came from the Cairhienin, on a gray that had seen better days, his armor battered, its gilding chipped. His face was gaunt and hard, the front of his head shaved and powdered like a common soldier, and his dark eyes shone with contempt for the taller Tairens." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There was plenty of contempt to go around. Tairens and Cairhienin hated one another. Illianers and Tairens despised each other. Only Cairhienin and Illianers got along to any degree, and there was a certain amount of prickle even there. Their two nations might not have near the long history of bad blood shared by Tear and Illian, yet the Cairhienin still were foreigners, armed and armored on Illian's soil, welcomed halfheartedly at best and only that much because they followed Rand. But despite all the frowning and bristling and trying to talk at once as they milled about Rand in a flurry of windblown cloaks, they had a common goal now. After a fashion.\n\n\"Majesty,\" Gregorin said hastily, bowing in his gold-tooled saddle, \"I do beg you let me go in your stead, or First Captain Marcolin.\" The square-cut beard that left his upper lip bare framed around face creased with worry. \"These men must know you are King-the proclamations do be read in every village, at every crossroads, as we do speak-yet they may no show proper respect for your crown.\" Lantern-jawed Marcolin, clean-shaven, studied Rand with dark, deep-set eyes, giving no hint what lay behind his impassive face. The Companions'loyalty was to the crown of Illian, and Marcolin was old enough to remember when Tarn al'Thor had been Second Captain over him, but only he knew what he thought of Rand al'Thor as King.\n\n\"My Lord Dragon,\" Weiramon intoned as he made his bow, not waiting for Gregorin to finish. The man always intoned, and even on horseback he seemed to strut. His worked velvets and striped silks and falls of lace almost overwhelmed his armor, and his pointed graybeard gave off a flowery scent of perfumed oils. \"This rabble is too petty to concern the Lord Dragon personally. Set dogs to catch dogs, I say. Let the Illianers root them out. Burn my soul, they've done nothing so far to serve you but talk.\" Trust him to turn agreement with Gregorin into an insult. Tolmeran was lean enough to make Weiramon appear bulky and somber enough to dim the luster of his garb; he was no fool, and rival to Weiramon besides, yet he nodded slowly in agreement. No love lost therefor Illianers, at all." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Semaradrid curled a lip at the Tairens but addressed himself to Rand, cutting in hard on Weiramon's heels. \"This gathering is ten times as large as any other we have found so far, my Lord Dragon.\" He cared nothing for the King of Illian, and little enough for the Dragon Reborn, except that the throne of Cairhien was Rand's to give, and Semaradrid hoped it would be given to one he could follow instead of fight. \"Their loyalties must be to Brend, or so many would not have held together. I fear talking to them is a waste of time, but if you must talk, let me ring their position openly with steel so they know the price of putting afoot out of line.\"\n\nRosana glared right back at Semaradrid, a lean woman, not tall yet nearly as tall as he, with eyes like blue ice. She did not wait for him to finish, either, and she, too, spoke to Rand. \"I've come too far and invested too much in you to see you die now, for nothing,\" she said bluntly. No more a fool than Tolmeran, Rosana had claimed a place in the councils of the High Lords, though Tairen High Ladies seldom did, and blunt was the word for her. Despite the armor most of the noblewomen wore, none actually led their armsmen into battle, yet Rosana carried a flanged mace on her saddle, and sometimes Rand thought she would like a chance to use it. \"I doubt those Illianers lack for bows,\" she said, \"and it takes only one arrow to kill even the Dragon Reborn.\" Pursing his lips thoughtfully, Marcolin nodded before catching himself, then exchanged startled looks with Rosana, each more surprised than the other to find themselves of like mind with an ancient enemy." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"These peasants could never have found the mettle to stay underarms without encouragement,\" Weiramon continued smoothly, ignoring Rosana. He was skilled at ignoring who, and what, he did not want to see or hear. He was a fool. \"May I suggest my Lord Dragon look to these so-called Nine for the source?\"\n\n\"I do protest this Tairen pig's insults, Majesty!\" Gregorin growled right atop him, one hand darting to his sword. \"I do protest most heartily!\"\n\n\"There are too many this time,\" Semaradrid said at the same instant. \"Most will turn against you as soon as your back is to them in any case.\" By his pointed frown, he might have been speaking of the Tairens as well as the men on the wooded hills. Perhaps he was. \"Better to kill them and be done!\"\n\n\"Did I ask for opinions?\" Rand snapped harshly. Babble became silence, except for the crack of cloaks and banners flapping in the wind. Suddenly expressionless faces regarded him, more than one going gray. They did not know he held the Power, but they knew him. Not all of what they knew was truth, but it was just as well they believed. \"You will come with me, Gregorin,\" he said in a more normal voice. Still hard, though. Steel was all they understood; go soft, and they would turn on him. \"And you, Marcolin. The rest stay here. Dashiva! Hopwil!\"\n\nEveryone not named reined their horses back hurriedly as the two Asha'man rode to join Rand, and the Illianers eyed the black-coated men as though they would have liked to remain behind, too. Aside from anything else, Corlan Dashiva was glowering and muttering under his breath as he so often did. Everyone was aware that saidin drove men mad sooner or later, and plain-faced Dashiva certainly looked the part, lank untrimmed hair flying in the wind, licking his lips and shaking his head. For that matter, Eben Hopwil, just sixteen and still with a few scattered blotches on his cheeks, wore a staring frown that gazed beyond anything insight. At least Rand knew the why of that." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As the Asha'man drew near, Rand could not help cocking his head to listen, though what he listened for was inside his head. Alanna was there, of course; neither the Void nor the Power altered that a whisker. Distance wore that awareness down to just that-awareness that she existed, somewhere far to the north-yet there was something more today, something he had felt several times recently, dim and barely on the edge of notice. A whisper of shock, perhaps, or outrage, a breath of something sharp he could not quite grasp. She must feel whatever it was very strongly for him to be even that conscious of it at this distance. Maybe she was missing him. Awry thought. He did not miss her. Ignoring Alanna was easier than it had been once. She was there, but not the voice that used to shout of death and killing whenever an Asha'man came into sight. Lews Therin was gone. Unless that feel of someone staring at the back of his head, brushing his shoulder blades with a finger, was him. Was there a madman's hoarse laughter deep in his thoughts? Or was it his own? The man had been there! He had!\n\nHe became aware of Marcolin staring at him, and Gregorin trying very hard not to. \"Not yet,\" he told them wryly, and almost laughed when they clearly understood right away. Relief was too plain on their faces for anything else. He was not insane. Yet. \"Come,\" he told them, and started Tai'daishar down the slope at a trot. Despite the men following, he felt alone. Despite the Power, he felt empty.\n\nBetween the ridge and the hills lay patches of thick scrub and long stretches of dead grass, a glistening mat of brown and yellow beaten flat by the rain. Only a few days ago the ground had been so parched that he had thought it could drink a river without changing. Then the torrents came, sent by the Creator finding mercy at last, or maybe by the Dark One in a fit of black humor; he did not know which. Now the horses' hooves splashed mud at every second step. He hoped this did not take long. He had sometime, by what Hopwil had reported, but not forever. Perhaps weeks, if he was lucky. He needed months. Light, he needed years he would never have!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His hearing heightened by the Power, he could make out some of what the men behind him were saying. Gregorin and Marcolin rode knee-to-knee, trying to hold their cloaks against the wind and speaking in low tones about the men ahead, about their fears the men might fight. Neither doubted they would be crushed if they resisted, but they feared the effect on Rand, and his on Illian, if Illianers fought him now that Brend was dead. They still could not bring themselves to give Brend his true name, Sammael. The very notion that one of the Forsaken had ruled in Illian frightened them even more than the fact that the Dragon Reborn ruled there now.\n\nDashiva, slumped in his gray's saddle like a man who had never seen a horse before, muttered angrily under his breath. In the Old Tongue, which he spoke and read as fluently as a scholar. Rand knew a little, though not enough to understand what the fellow was mumbling. Probably complaints about the weather; despite being a farmer, Dashiva disliked being out-of-doors unless the skies were clear.\n\nOnly Hopwil rode in silence, frowning at something beyond the horizon, his hair and cloak whipping about as wildly as Dashiva's. Now and then he clutched the hilt of his sword unconsciously. Rand had to speak three times, the last sharply, before Hopwil gave a surprised jerk and booted his lanky dun up beside Tai'daishar.\n\nRand studied him. The young man-not a boy any longer, no matter his age-had filled out since Rand first saw him, though his nose and ears still seemed made fora bigger man. A Dragon, red-enameled gold, now balanced the silver Sword on his high collar, just like Dashiva's. Once, he had said he would laugh a year for joy when the Dragon was his, but he stared unblinking at Rand as though looking through him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What you learned was good news,\" Rand told him. Only an effort kept him from trying to crush the Dragon Scepter in his fist. \"You did well.\" He had expected the Seanchan to return, but not so soon. He had hoped not so soon. And not leaping out of nowhere, swallowing cities at a gulp. When he found out that merchants in Illian had known for days before any of them thought to inform the Nine-the Light forbid they should lose a chance at profit because too many knew too much!-he had been within a hair of scouring the city to its foundations. But the news was good, or as good as it could be in the circumstances. Hopwil had Traveled to Amador, to the countryside nearby, and the Seanchan appeared to be waiting. Perhaps digesting what they had consumed. The Light send they choked on it! He forced his grip to loosen on the length of Dragon-carved spearhead. \"If Morr brings half as good, I have time to settle Illian before dealing with them.\" Ebou Dar, as well! The Light burn the Seanchan! They were a distraction, one he did not need and could not afford to ignore.\n\nHopwil said nothing, only looked.\n\n\"Are you upset because you had to kill women?\" Desora, of the Musara Reyn, and Lamelle, of the Smoke Water Miagoma, and.... Rand forced down the instinctive litany even as it began floating across the Void. New names had appeared on that list, names he did not remember adding. Laigin Arnault, a Red sister who had died trying to take him a prisoner to Tar Valon. Surely she had no right to a place, but she had claimed one. Colavaere Saighan, who had hanged herself rather than accept justice. Others. Men had died in thousands, by his order or by his hand, but it was the faces of the women that haunted his dreams. Each night, he made himself confront their silently accusing eyes. Maybe it was their eyes he had felt of late." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I told you about damane and sul'dam,\" he said calmly, but inside of him, rage flared, fire spiderwebbing around the emptiness of the Void." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Light burn me, I've killed more women than all your nightmares could hold! My hands are black with the blood of women! \"If you hadn't wiped out that Seanchan patrol, they'd have killed you for sure.\" He did not say that Hopwil should have avoided them, avoided the need to kill them. Too late for that. \"I doubt that damane even knew how to shield a man. You had no choice.\" And better they were all dead than some escaping with word of a man who could channel, scouting them.\n\nAbsently, Hopwil touched his left sleeve, where the black color disguised fire-scarred wool. The Seanchan had not died easily or fast. \"I piled the bodies in a hollow,\" he said in a flat voice. \"The horses, everything. I burned it all to ash. White ash that floated in the wind like snow. It didn't bother meat all.\"\n\nRand heard the lie on the man's tongue, but Hopwil had to learn. After all, he had. They were what they were, and that was all there was to it. All there was. Liah, of the Cosaida Chareen, a name written in fire. Moiraine Damodred, another name that seared to the soul rather than merely burning. A nameless Darkfriend, represented only by a face, who had died by his sword near....\n\n\"Majesty,\" Gregorin said loudly, pointing ahead. Alone man came out of the trees at the foot of the nearest hill to stand waiting in an attitude of defiance. He carried a bow, and wore a pointed steel cap and a belted mail shirt that hung nearly to his knees.\n\nRand spurred Tai'daishar to meet him seething with the Power. Saidin could protect him from men." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Up close, the bowman did not make so brave a sight." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rust streaked his helmet and mail, and he looked sodden, mud to his thighs, damp hair trailing down a narrow face. Coughing hollowly, he scrubbed at along nose with the back of his hand. His bowstring appeared taut, though; that, he had protected from the rain. And the fletchings on the arrows in his quiver looked dry, too.\n\n\"Are you the leader here?\" Rand demanded.\n\n\"You might say I do speak for him,\" the narrow-faced man replied warily. \"Why?\" As the others galloped up behind Rand, he shifted his feet, dark eyes like a cornered badger's. Badgers were dangerous, cornered.\n\n\"Watch your tongue, man!\" Gregorin snapped. \"You do speak to Rand al'Thor, the Dragon Reborn, Lord of the Morning and King of Illian! Kneel to your King! What do your name be?\"\n\n\"He do be the Dragon Reborn?\" the fellow said doubtfully. Eyeing Rand from the crown on his head to his boots, lingering a moment on the gilded Dragon buckling his sword belt, the man shook his head as if he had expected someone older, or grander. \"And Lord of the Morning, you do say? Our King did never style himself so.\" He made no move toward kneeling, or giving his name. Gregorin's face darkened at the man's tone, and maybe at the man's oblique denial of Rand as King. Marcolin gave a slight nod, as though he had expected no more.\n\nDamp rustlings stirred in the undergrowth among the trees. Rand heard easily, and abruptly he felt saidin fill Hopwil. No longer staring at nothing, Hopwil studied the woodline intently, a wild light in his eyes. Dashiva, silent, raking dark hair out of his face, looked bored. Leaning forward in his saddle, Gregorin opened his mouth angrily. Fire and ice, but not yet death." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Peace, Gregorin.\" Rand did not raise his voice, but he wove flows to carry his words, Air and Fire, so they boomed against the wall of trees. \"My offer is generous.\" The long-nosed man staggered at the sound, and Gregorin's horse shied. Those hidden men would hear clearly. \"Lay down your arms, and those who want to return home, can. Those who want to follow me instead, can do that. But no man leaves hereunder arms unless he does follow me. I know most of you are good men, who answered the call of your King and the Council of Nine to defend Illian, but I am your King, now, and I'll not have anyone tempted to turn bandit.\" Marcolin nodded grimly.\n\n\"What about your Dragonsworn burning farms?\" a man's frightened voice shouted from the trees. \"They do be flaming bandits!\"\n\n\"What about your Aiel?\" another called. \"I do hear they carry off whole villages!\" More voices from unseen men joined in, all shouting the same things, Dragon-sworn and Aiel, murderous brigands and savages. Rand ground his teeth.\n\nWhen the shouting faded, narrow-face said, \"You do see?\" He paused to cough, then hawked and spat, maybe for his chest and maybe for emphasis. A pitiful sight, all wet and rust, but his backbone was as tight as his bowstring. He ignored Rand's glare as easily as he did Gregorin's. \"You do ask us to go home unarmed, unable to defend ourselves or our families, while your people do burn and steal and kill. They do say the storm becoming,\" he added, and looked surprised that he had, surprised and confused fora moment.\n\n\"The Aiel you've heard about are my enemies!\" Not spiderwebs of flame this time, but solid sheets of fury that wrapped tight around the Void. Rand's voice was ice, though; it roared like the crack of winter. The storm was coming? Light, he was the storm! \"My Aiel are hunting them down. My Aiel hunt the Shaido, and they and Davram Bashere and most of the Companions hunt bandits, whatever they call themselves! I am the King of Illian, and I will allow no one to disrupt the peace of Illian!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Even if what you say do be true,\" narrow-face began.\n\n\"It is!\" Rand snapped. \"You have until midday to decide.\" The man frowned uncertainly; unless the roiling clouds cleared, he might have a difficult time knowing midday. Rand gave him no relief. \"Decide wisely!\" he said. Whirling Tai'daishar about, he spurred the gelding to a gallop back toward the ridge without waiting for the others.\n\nReluctantly he let goof the Power, forced himself not to hang on like a man clutching salvation with his fingernails as life and filth drained from him together. For an instant, he saw double; the world seemed to tilt dizzily. That was a recent problem, and he worried it might be part of the sickness that killed men who channeled, but the dizziness never lasted more than moments. It was the rest of letting go that he regretted. The world seemed to dull. No, it did dull, and became somehow less. Colors were washed-out, the sky smaller, compared to what they had been before. He wanted desperately to seize the Source again and wring the One Power out of it. Always it was so when the Power left him.\n\nNo sooner had saidin gone, though, than rage bubbled in its place, white-hot and searing, nearly as hot as the Power had been. The Seanchan were not enough, and brigands hiding behind his name? Deadly distractions he could not afford. Was Sammael reaching out from the grave? Had he sown the Shaido to sprout like thorns wherever Rand laid a hand? Why? The man could not have believed he would die. And if half the tales Rand heard were true, there were more in Murandy and Altara and the Light alone knew where! Many among the Shaido already taken prisoner had spoken of an Aes Sedai. Could the White Tower be involved somehow? Would the White Tower never give him peace? Never? Never." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Battling fury, he was blind to Gregorin and the rest catching up. When they topped the ridge among the waiting nobles, he drew rein so abruptly that Tai'daishar reared, pawing the air and flinging mud from his hooves. The nobles edged their mounts back, from his gelding, from him.\n\n\"I gave them to midday,\" he announced. \"Watch them. I don't want this lot breaking into fifty smaller bands and slipping away. I'll be in my tent.\" Except for wind-tossed cloaks they might have been stone, rooted to one spot as if he meant the command to watch for them personally. At that moment, he did not care if they stayed there till they froze or melted.\n\nWithout another word he trotted down the back slope of the ridge, followed by the two black-coated Asha'man and his Illianer banner-bearers. Fire and ice, and death was coming. But he was steel. He was steel." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "CHAPTER 14\n\nMessage from the M'Hael\n\nThe largest of the camps was his own, and here Illianer Companions in green coats with yellow cuffs rubbed shoulders with Tairen Defenders of the Stone in fat-sleeved coats striped black-and-gold and an equal number of Cairhienin drawn from forty-odd Houses, in dark colors, some with con stiff above their heads. They cooked at different fires, slept apart, picketed their horses apart, and eyed one another warily, but they mingled. The safety of the Dragon Reborn was their responsibility, and they took the job seriously. Any of them might betray him, but not while the others were thereto watch. Old hatreds and new dislikes would bring betrayal of any plot before the betrayer stopped to think.\n\nA ring of steel stood guard around Rand's tent, a huge peaked thing of green silk embroidered allover with bees in thread-of-gold. It had belonged to his predecessor, Mattin Stepaneos, and had come with the crown, in a manner of speaking. Companions in burnished conical helmets stood side by side with Defenders in helmets ridged and rimmed, and Cairhienin in bell-shaped helms, ignoring the wind, barred faceguards hiding their features, halberds slanted precisely. Not one moved a hair when Rand drew rein, but a bevy of servants came running to attend to him and the Asha'man. A bony woman in the green-and-yellow vest of a groom from the Royal Palace in Illian took his bridle, while his stirrup was held by a bulbous-nosed fellow in the black-and-gold livery of the Stone of Tear. They tugged forelocks to him, and cast only one sharp look atone another. Boreane Carivin, a stout pale little woman in a dark dress, self-importantly offered him a silver tray of damp cloths from which steam rose. Cairhienin, she watched the other two, though more as if making sure they did their tasks properly than with the animosity for each other they barely hid. But with care, still. What worked with the soldiers worked with the servants as well." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Drawing off his gauntlets, Rand waved away Boreane's tray. Damer Flinn had risen from an ornately carved bench in front of the tent as Rand dismounted. Bald except fora ragged white fringe, Flinn looked more a grandfather than an Asha'man. A leather-tough grandfather with a stiff leg, who had seen more of the world than a farm. The sword at his hip looked as if it belonged, as well it should on a former soldier of the Queen's Guard. Rand trusted him more than most. Flinn had saved his life, after all.\n\nFlinn saluted, fist to chest, and when Rand acknowledged him with a nod, limped closer and waited until the grooms left with the horses before speaking in a low voice. \"Torval's here. Sent by the M'Hael, he says. He wanted to wait in the council tent. I told Narishma to watch him.\" That had been Rand's command, though he was not sure why he had given it; no one who came from the Black Tower was to be left alone. Hesitating, Flinn fingered the Dragon on his black collar. \"He wasn't happy to hear you'd raised all of us.\"\n\n\"Wasn't he, now,\" Rand said softly, tucking his gloves behind his sword belt. And because Flinn still looked uncertain, he added, \"You all earned it.\" He had been about to send one of the Asha'man to Taim-the Leader, the M'Hael, as the Asha'man all called him-but now Torval could carry the message. In the council tent? \"Have refreshments sent,\" he told Flinn, then motioned Hopwil and Dashiva to follow.\n\nFlinn saluted again, but Rand was already striding away, black mud squelching around his boots. No cheers rose for him in the blustering wind. He could recall when there had been. If that was not one of Lews Therin's memories. If Lews Therin had ever been real. A flash of color just beyond the edge of sight, the feel of someone about to touch him from behind. With an effort, he focused himself." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The council tent was a large red-striped pavilion that had once sat on the Plains of Maredo, now pitched in the middle of Rand's encampment, surrounded by thirty paces of bare ground. There were never guards here, not unless Rand was meeting with the nobles. Anyone trying to slip in would have been seen instantly by a thousand prying eyes. Three banners on tall poles formed a triangle around the tent, the Rising Sun of Cairhien, the Three Crescents of Tear, and the Golden Bees of Illian, and above the crimson roof, higher than the rest, stood the Dragon Banner, and the Banner of Light. The wind made them all standout, rippling and snapping, and the tent walls shivered in the gusts. Inside, colorful, fringed carpets made a floor, and the only furniture was a huge table, thickly carved and gilded, inlaid with ivory and turquoise. A jumble of maps almost hid the tabletop.\n\nTorval lifted his head from the maps, plainly ready to give the rough side of his tongue to whoever had barged in on him. Close to his middle years and tall beside anyone save Rand or an Aiel, he stared coldly down a sharp nose that practically quivered with indignation. The Dragon and the Sword glistened on his coat collar in the light of the stand-lamps. A silk coat, shining black, cut fine enough fora lord. His sword had silver mountings washed with gold, and a glittering red gem capped the hilt. Another gleamed darkly on a finger ring. You could not trainmen to be weapons without expecting a certain amount of arrogance, yet Rand did not like Torval. But then, he had no need of Lews Therin's voice to be suspicious of any man in a black coat. How far did he truly trust even Flinn? Yet he had to lead them. The Asha'man were his making, his responsibility." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When Torval saw Rand, he straightened casually and saluted, but his expression barely changed. He had had a sneering mouth the first time Rand ever saw him. \"My Lord Dragon,\" he said in the accents of Tarabon, and he might have been greeting an equal. Or being gracious to an inferior. His swaggering bow took in Hopwil and Dashiva as well. \"I give congratulations on the conquest of Illian. A great victory, yes? There would have been wine to greet you, but this young... Dedicated... does not seem to understand orders.\"\n\nIn the corner, silver bells on the ends of Narishma's two long dark braids made a faint sound as he shifted. He had tanned darkly in the southern sun, but somethings about him had not changed. Older than Rand, his face made him seem younger than Hopwil, but the red that rose in his cheeks was anger, not embarrassment. His pride in the new-won Sword on his collar was quiet, yet deep. Torval smiled at him, a slow smile both amused and dangerous. Dashiva laughed, a short bark, and was still.\n\n\"What are you doing here, Torval?\" Rand asked roughly. He tossed the Dragon Scepter and his gauntlets down atop the maps and followed them with his sword belt and scabbarded sword. The maps that Torval had no reason to be studying. No need of Lews Therin's voice.\n\nWith a shrug, Torval produced a letter from his coat pocket and handed it to Rand. \"The M'Hael, he sent this.\" The paper was snowy white and thick, the seal a dragon impressed in a large oval of blue wax that glittered with golden flecks. It might almost have been thought to come from the Dragon Reborn. Taim did think well of himself. \"The M'Hael said to tell you the tales of Aes Sedai in Murandy with an army, they are true. Rumor says they are rebels against Tar Valon\"-Torval's sneer thickened with disbelief-\"but they are marching toward the Black Tower. Soon, they may become a danger, yes?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rand cracked the magnificent seal to bits between his fingers. \"They're going to Caemlyn, not the Black Tower, and they're no threat. My orders were clear. Leave Aes Sedai alone unless they come after you.\"\n\n\"But how can you be sure they are not a threat?\" Torval persisted. \"Perhaps they are going to Caemlyn, as you say, but if you are wrong, we'll not know before they attack us.\"\n\n\"Torval might be right,\" Dashiva put in thoughtfully. \"I can't say I'd trust women who put me in a box, and these haven't sworn any oaths. Or have they?\"\n\n\"I said leave them alone!\" Rand slapped the tabletop, hard, and Hopwil jumped in surprise. Dashiva frowned with irritation before hurriedly smoothing it over, but Rand was not interested in Dashiva's moods. By chance-he was sure it was chance-his hand had comedown on the Dragon Scepter. His arm trembled with the desire to take it up and stab Torval through the heart. No need for Lews Therin at all. \"The Asha'man area weapon to be aimed where I say, not to flutter around like hens every time Taim gets frightened over a handful of Aes Sedai having dinner at the same inn. If I must, I can comeback to make myself clearer.\"\n\n\"I am sure there is no need of that,\" Torval said quickly. At last something had wiped the wry twist from his mouth. Eyes tight, he spread his hands, close to diffident, very nearly apologetic. And plainly frightened. \"The M'Hael, he merely wanted you informed. Your orders are read aloud everyday at Morning Directives, after the Creed.\"\n\n\"That's good, then.\" Rand kept his voice cool, kept a scowl from his face by main effort. It was his precious M'Hael the man feared, not the Dragon Reborn. Afraid Taim would take it amiss if something he had said brought Rand's anger on Taim's head. \"Because I'll kill anyone of you who goes near those women in Murandy. You cut where I direct.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Torval bowed rigidly, murmuring, \"As you say, my Lord Dragon.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His teeth were bared in an attempted smile, but his nose was pinched, and he struggled to avoid meeting anyone's eyes while seeming to avoid nothing. Dashiva yelped another laugh, and Hopwil wore a small grin.\n\nNarishma was not enjoying Torval's discomfort, though, or paying it attention. He looked at Rand without blinking, as though he sensed deep currents that the rest missed. Most women and no few men thought him just a pretty boy, but those too-big eyes sometimes seemed more knowing than any others.\n\nRand pulled his hand from the Dragon Scepter and smoothed open the letter. His hands did not quite shake. Torval smiled weakly, sourly, noticing nothing. Against the tent wall, Narishma shifted, relaxing.\n\nThe refreshments arrived, then, borne by a stately procession following Boreane, a line of Illianers and Cairhienin and Tairens in their various liveries. There was a servant bearing a silver tray and pitcher for each kind of wine, and two more with trays of silver mugs for hot punch and spiced wines and fine blown goblets for the others. A pink-faced fellow in green-and-yellow carried a tray on which to do the pouring, and a dark woman in black-and-gold was thereto actually handle the pitchers. There were nuts and candied fruits, cheeses and olives, each sort requiring a serving manor woman. Under Boreane's direction, they flowed in a formal dance, bowing, curtsying, one giving way to another as they made their offerings.\n\nAccepting spiced wine, Rand hoisted himself onto the edge of the table and sat the steaming mug beside him untouched as he busied himself with the letter. There was no address, no preamble of any kind. Taim hated giving Rand any sort of title, though he tried to hide the fact." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Rand grimaced, putting the..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "the blackberry bush... out of his mind. What had to be done, had to be done. The whole world paid a price for his existence. He would die for it, but the whole world paid.\n\nThere were other things to grimace over, anyway. Three or four new men a day? Taim was optimistic. Ina few months, at that rate, there would be more men who could channel than Aes Sedai, true, but the newest sister had years of training behind her. And part of that specifically taught how to deal with a man who could channel. He did not want to contemplate any encounter between Asha'man and Aes Sedai who knew what they were facing; blood and regret could be the only outcome, whatever happened. The Asha'man were not aimed at the White Tower, though, no matter what Taim thought. It was a convenient belief, however, if it made Tar Valon step warily. An Asha'man only needed to know how to kill. If there were enough to do that at the right place and time, if they lived long enough to, that was all they had been created for.\n\n\"How many deserters, Torval?\" he said quietly. He picked up the wine mug and took a swallow, as if the answer were unimportant. The wine should have been warming, but the ginger and sweet serrel and mace tasted bitter on his tongue. \"How many losses in training?\"\n\nTorval was recovering himself over the refreshments, rubbing his hands and arching an eyebrow at the choice of wines, making a great show of knowing the best, making a show of lording it. Dashiva had accepted the first offered, and stood glowering into his twist-stemmed goblet as though it held swill. Pointing to one of the trays, Torval cocked his head thoughtfully, but he had the words ready on his tongue. \"Nineteen deserters, so far. The M'Hael, he has ordered them killed whenever they are found, and their heads brought back for examples.\" Plucking a bit of glazed pear from the proffered tray, he popped it into his mouth and smiled brightly. \"Three heads hang like fruit on the Traitor's Tree at this moment.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Good,\" Rand said levelly. Men who ran now could not be trusted not to run later, when lives depended on them standing. And these men could not be allowed to go their own way; those fellows back on the hills, if they escaped in a body, were less dangerous than one man trained in the Black Tower. The Traitor's Tree? Taim was a great one for naming things. But men needed the trappings, the symbols and the names, the black coats and the pins, to help hold them together. Until it was time to die. \"The next time I visit the Black Tower, I want to see every deserter's head.\"\n\nA second piece of candied pear, halfway to Torval's mouth, dropped from his fingers and streaked the front of his fine coat. \"It might interfere with recruiting, making that sort of effort,\" he said slowly. \"The deserters, they do not announce themselves.\"\n\nRand held the other man's gaze until it fell. \"How many losses in training?\" he demanded. The sharp-nosed Asha'man hesitated. \"How many?\"\n\nNarishma leaned forward, staring intently at Torval. So did Hopwil. The servants continued their smooth, silent dance, offering their trays to men who no longer saw them. Boreane took advantage of Narishma's preoccupation to make sure his silver mug held more hot water than spiced wine.\n\nTorval shrugged, too casually. \"Fifty-one, all told. Thirteen burned out, and twenty-eight dead where they stood. The rest.... The M'Hael, he adds something to their wine, and they do not wake.\" Abruptly his tone turned malicious. \"It can come suddenly, at anytime. One man began screaming that spiders were crawling beneath his skin on his second day.\" He smiled viciously at Narishma and Hopwil, and nearly so at Rand, but it was to the other two he addressed himself, swinging his head between them. \"You see? Not to worry if you slide into madness. You'll not hurt yourselves or a soul. You go to sleep... forever. Kinder than gentling, even if we knew how. Kinder than leaving you insane and cutoff, yes?\" Narishma stared back, taut as a harpstring, his mug forgotten in his hand. Hopwil was once more frowning at something only he could see." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Kinder,\" Rand said in a flat voice, setting the mug back beside him on the table. Something in the wine. My soul is black with blood, and damned. It was not a hard thought, not biting or edged; a simple statement of fact. \"A mercy any man might wish for, Torval.\"\n\nTorval's cruel smile faded, and he stood breathing hard. The sums were easy; one man in ten destroyed, one man in fifty mad, and more surely to come. Early days yet, and noway till the day you died to know you had beaten the odds. Except that the odds would beat you, one way or another, in the end. Whatever else, Torval stood under that threat, too.\n\nAbruptly Rand became aware of Boreane. It took a moment before he recognized the expression on her face, and when he did, he bit back cold words. How dare she feel pity! Did she think Tarmon Gai'don could be won without blood? The Prophecies of the Dragon demanded blood like rain!\n\n\"Leave us,\" he told her, and she quietly gathered the servants. But she still carried compassion in her eyes as she herded them out.\n\nCasting around fora way to change the mood, Rand found nothing. Pity weakened as surely as fear, and they had to be strong. To face what they had to face, they all must be steel. His making, his responsibility.\n\nLost in his own thoughts, Narishma peered into the steam rising from his wine, and Hopwil still tried to stare through the side of the tent. Torval cast sideways glances at Rand and struggled to put the scornful twist back on his mouth. Dashiva alone appeared unaffected, with his arms folded, studying Torval as a man might study a horse offered for sale." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Into the painfully stretching silence burst a husky, windblown young man in black, with the Sword and Dragon on his collar. Of an age with Hopwil, still not old enough to marry most places, Fedwin Morr wore intensity more closely than his shirt; he moved on his toes, and his eyes had the look of a hunting cat that knew itself hunted in turn. He had been different, once, and not so long ago. \"The Seanchan will move from Ebou Dar soon,\" he said as he saluted. \"They mean to come against Illian next.\" Hopwil gave a start and a gasp, jolted out of his dark study. Once again, Dashiva's response was to laugh, mirthlessly this time.\n\nNodding, Rand took up the Dragon Scepter. After all, he carried it for remembrance. The Seanchan danced to their own tune, not the song he wished for.\n\nIf Rand received the announcement in silence, Torval did not. Finding his sneer, he raised a contemptuous eyebrow. \"Did they tell you all that, now?\" he said mockingly. \"Or have you learned to read minds? Let me tell you something, boy. I have fought, against Amadicians and Domani both, and no army takes a city then packs itself up to march a thousand miles! More than a thousand miles! Or do you think they can Travel?\"\n\nMorr met Torval's derision calmly. Or if it unsettled him at all, the only sign he gave was running a thumb down his long sword hilt. \"I did talk to some of them. Most were Taraboners, and more landing by ship everyday, or near enough.\" Shouldering past Torval to the table, he favored the Taraboner with a level look. \"All stepping right quick whenever anybody with a slurring way of speech opened a mouth.\" The older man opened his, angrily, but the younger pressed on hurriedly, to Rand. \"They're putting soldiers all along the Venir Mountains. Five hundred, sometimes a thousand together. All the way to Arran Head already. And they're buying or taking every wagon and cart within twenty leagues of Ebou Dar, and the animals to draw them.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Carts!\" Torval exclaimed. \"Wagons! Is it that they mean to hold a market fair, do you think? And what fool would march an army through mountains when there are perfectly good roads?\" He noticed Rand watching him, and cutoff with a small frown, suddenly uncertain.\n\n\"I told you to stay low, Morr.\" Rand let anger touch his voice. The young Asha'man had to step back as he jumped down from the table. \"Not to go asking the Seanchan their plans. To look and stay low.\"\n\n\"I was careful; I didn't wear my pins.\" Morr's eyes did not change for Rand, still hunter and hunted in one. He seemed to be boiling inside. Had Rand not known better, he would have thought Morr held the Power, struggling to survive saidin even as it gave him life ten times over. His face seemed to want to sweat. \"If any of the men I talked to knew where they're going next, they didn't say, and I didn't ask, but they were willing to complain over a mug of ale about marching all the time and never standing still. In Ebou Dar, they were soaking up all the ale in the city as fast as they could, because they say they have to march again. And they're gathering wagons, just like I said.\" That all came out in a rush, and he clamped his teeth at the end as though to trap more words that wanted to fly from his tongue.\n\nSmiling suddenly, Rand clapped him on the shoulder. \"You did well. The wagons would have been enough, but you did well. Wagons are important,\" he added, turning to Torval. \"If an army feeds off the country, it eats what it finds. Or not, if it doesn't.\" Torval had not flickered an eyelid at hearing of Seanchan in Ebou Dar. If that tale had reached the Black Tower, why had Taim not mentioned it? Rand hoped his smile did not look a snarl. \"It's harder to arrange supply trains, but when you have one you know there's fodder for the animals and beans for the men. The Seanchan organize everything.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sorting through the maps, he found the one he wanted and spread it out, weighted atone side with his sword and at the other with the Dragon Scepter. The coast between Illian and Ebou Dar stared up at him, rimmed for most of its length by hills and mountains, dotted with fishing villages and small towns. The Seanchan did organize. Ebou Dar had been theirs barely more than a week, but the merchants' eyes-and-ears wrote of repairs well underway on the damage done to the city in its taking, of clean sick-houses setup for the ill, of food and work arranged for the poor and those driven from their homes by troubles inland. The streets and the surrounding countryside were patrolled so that no one need fear footpads or bandits, day or night, and while merchants were welcome, smuggling had been cut to a trickle if not less. Those honest Illianer merchants had been surprisingly glum about the smuggling. What were the Seanchan organizing now?\n\nThe others gathered around the table as Rand perused the map. There were roads hard along the coast, but poor straggling things, marked as little more than cart paths. The broad trade roads lay inland, avoiding the worst of the terrain and the worst of what the Sea of Storms had to offer. \"Men raiding out of those mountains could make passage difficult for anyone trying to use the inland roads,\" he said finally. \"By controlling the mountains, they make the roads safe as a city street. You're right, Morr. They are coming to Illian.\"\n\nLeaning on his fists, Torval glared at Morr, who had been right when he was wrong. A grievous sin, perhaps, in Torval's book. \"Even so, it will be months before they can trouble you here,\" he said sullenly. \"A hundred Asha'man, fifty, placed in Illian, could destroy any army in the world before one man crosses the causeways.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I doubt an army with damane is destroyed as easily as one kills Aiel committed to an attack and caught by surprise,\" Rand said quietly, and Torval stiffened." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Besides, I have to defend all of Illian, not just the city.\"\n\nIgnoring the man, Rand traced lines across the map with a finger. Between Arran Head and the city of Illian lay a hundred leagues of open water, across the mouth of Kabal Deep, where, ship captains in Illian said, their longest sounding lines could find no bottom just a mile or so from the shore. The waves there could overturn ships as they surged north to pound the coast with breakers fifteen paces high. In this weather, it would be worse. Marching around the Deep was a route of two hundred leagues to reach the city, even keeping to the shortest ways, but if the Seanchan pressed on from Arran Head, they could reach the border in two weeks despite the rainstorms. Maybe less. Better to fight where he chose, not where they did. His finger slid along the south coast of Altara, along the Venir range, until the mountains dwindled to hills short of Ebou Dar. Five hundred here, a thousand there. A tantalizing string of beads dropped along the mountains. A sharp rap might roll them back to Ebou Dar, might even pen them there while they tried to figure out what he was up to. Or....\n\n\"There was something else,\" Morr said abruptly, rushing again. \"There was talk about some sort of Aes Sedai weapon. I found where it was used, a few miles from the city. The ground was all burned over, seared clean in the middle, a good three hundred paces wide or more, and ruined orchards further. The sand was melted to sheets of glass. Saidin was worst, there.\"\n\nTorval waved a hand at him dismissively. \"There could have been Aes Sedai near when the city fell, yes? Or maybe the Seanchan themselves did it. One sister with an angreal could-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rand cut in. \"What do you mean, saidin was worst there?\" Dashiva moved, eyeing Morr oddly, reaching as though to seize the young man. Rand fended him off roughly. \"What do you mean, Morr?\"\n\nMorr stared, mouth shut tight, running his thumb up and down the length of his sword hilt. The heat inside of him seemed ready to burst out. There really was sweat beading on his face now. \"Saidin was... strange,\" he said hoarsely. His words came in rapid bursts. \"Worst there-I could... feel it... in the air all around me-but strange everywhere around Ebou Dar. And even a hundred miles away. I had to fight it; not like always; different. Like it was alive. Sometimes.... Sometimes, it didn't do what I wanted. Sometimes, it... did something else. It did. I'm not mad! It did!\" The wind gusted, howling fora moment, shivering and snapping the tent walls, and Morr fell silent. Narishma's bells chimed at a jerk of his head, then were still.\n\n\"That isn't possible,\" Dashiva muttered into the silence, but nearly under his breath. \"It is not possible.\"\n\n\"Who knows what's possible?\" Rand said. \"I don't! Do you?\" Dashiva's head came up in surprise, but Rand turned to Morr, moderating his tone. \"Don't worry, man.\" Not a mild tone-he could not manage that-yet heartening, he hoped. His making, his responsibility. \"You'll be with me to the Last Battle. I promise it.\"\n\nThe young man nodded, and scrubbed at his face with his hand as though surprised to find it damp, but he glanced at Torval, who had gone as still as stone. Did Morr know about the wine? It was a mercy, given the alternatives. A small and bitter mercy." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rand picked up Taim's missive, folded the page, and thrust it into his coat pocket. One in fifty mad already, and more to come. Was Morr next? Dashiva was surely close. Hopwil's stares took on anew meaning, and even Narishma's habitual quiet. Madness did not always mean screaming about spiders. He had asked once, warily, where he knew the answers would be true, how to cleanse the taint from saidin. And got a riddle for answer. Herid Fel had claimed the riddle stated'sound principles, in both high philosophy and natural philosophy,\" but he had not seen anyway to apply it to the problem at hand. Had Fel been killed because he might have puzzled out the riddle? Rand had a hint at the answer, or thought he might, a guess that could be disastrously wrong. Hints and riddles were not answers, yet he had to do something. If the taint was not cleansed somehow, Tarmon Gai'don might find a world already ruined by madmen. What had to be done, had to be done.\n\n\"That would be wondrous,\" Torval said in a near whisper, \"but how could anyone short of the Creator or...?\" He trailed off uneasily.\n\nRand had not realized he had spoken any of his thoughts aloud. Narishma's eyes, and Morr's, and Hopwil's, belonged in one face, shining with sudden hope. Dashiva looked poleaxed. Rand hoped he had not said too much. Some secrets had to be kept. Including what he would do next.\n\nIn short order, Hopwil was running for his horse to ride to the ridge with orders for the nobles, Morr and Dashiva to find Flinn and the other Asha'man, and Torval was striding off to Travel back to the Black Tower with commands for Taim. Narishma was last, and thinking of Aes Sedai and Seanchan and weapons, Rand sent him away as well, with careful instructions that made the young man's mouth tighten." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Speak to no one,\" Rand finished softly, gripping Narishma's arm hard. \"And don't fail me. Not by a hair.\"\n\n\"I won't fail,\" Narishma said, unblinking. With a quick salute, he was gone, too.\n\nDangerous, a voice whispered in Rand's head. Oh, yes, very dangerous, maybe too dangerous. But it might work; it might. In any event, you must kill Torval now. You must.\n\nWeiramon entered the council tent, shouldering aside Gregorin and Tolmeran, trying to shoulder aside Rosana and Semaradrid, the lot of them eager to tell Rand that the men in the trees had decided wisely after all. They found him laughing till tears rolled down his face. Lews Therin had comeback. Or else he really was mad already. Either way, it was reason to laugh." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "CHAPTER 15\n\nStronger Than Written Law\n\nThe sound of low voices arguing had wakened her, and the full moon was still up outside, casting enough light for her to make out two women confronting one another at the tent's entrance.\n\n\"The poor woman's head pains her all day, and she gets little rest at night,\" Halima whispered fiercely, fists on her hips. \"Let this wait till morning.\"\n\n\"I don't propose to argue with you.\" Siuan's voice was winter itself, and she tossed back her cloak with a mittened hand as though preparing to fight. She was dressed for the weather, in stout wool no doubt worn over as many shifts as she could fit underneath. \"You stand aside, and right quick, or I'll have your guts for bait! And put on some decent clothes!\"\n\nWith a soft laugh, Halima drew up and if anything planted herself more squarely in Siuan's way. Her white nightgown clung, but was decent enough for its purpose. Though it did seem a wonder she evaded freezing in that thin silk. The coals in the tripod braziers had died down long since, and neither much-mended tent canvas nor layered carpets on the ground held in warmth any longer. Both women's breath was pale mist.\n\nThrowing off the blankets, Egwene sat up wearily on her narrow cot. Halima was a countrywoman with a skim of sophistication, and often she did not seem to realize the deference due to Aes Sedai, or indeed seem to think she need defer to anyone. She spoke to Sitters as she might to the good-wives in her own village, with a laugh and a level eye and a straightforward earthiness that sometimes shocked. Siuan spent her days giving way to women who had jumped at her word a year earlier, smiling and curtsying for nearly every sister in the camp. Many still laid much of the Tower's troubles at her feet and thought she had hardly suffered enough to atone. Sufficient to keep anyone's pride at a stiff prickle. Together, the pair were a lantern tossed into the back of an Illuminator's wagon, but Egwene hoped to avoid an explosion. Besides, Siuan would not have come in the middle of the night unless it was necessary." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Go back to bed, Halima.\" Smothering a yawn, Egwene bent to fumble her shoes and stockings from beneath the cot. She did not channel a lamp alight. Better if no one noticed that the Amyrlin was awake. \"Goon; you need your rest.\"\n\nHalima protested, perhaps more strongly than she should have to the Amyrlin Seat, but soon enough she was back on the tiny cot that had been squeezed into the tent for her. Very little room remained to move in, with a washstand, a stand-mirror and areal armchair, plus four large chests stacked atop one another. Those held the constant flow of clothes from Sitters who had not yet realized that however young Egwene might be, she was not young enough to bedazzled or diverted by silks and laces. Halima lay curled up, watching in the darkness, while Egwene hastily dragged an ivory comb through her hair, donned stout mittens, and pulled a fox-lined cloak over her nightgown. A thick woolen nightgown, and she would not have minded thicker in this weather. Halima's eyes seemed to pickup the faint moonlight and shine darkly, unblinking.\n\nEgwene did not think the woman jealous of her place near the Amyrlin Seat, casual as it was, and the Light knew she did not carry gossip, but Halima had an innocent curiosity about everything, whether or not it was any of her business. Reason enough to hear Siuan out elsewhere. Everyone knew now that Siuan had thrown in her lot with Egwene, after a fashion, as they thought, sullenly and grudgingly. A figure of some amusement and occasional pity, Siuan Sanche, reduced to attaching herself to the woman who held the title once hers, and that woman no more than a puppet once the Hall finished fighting over who would pull her cords. Siuan was human enough to harbor sparks of resentment, but so far they had managed to keep secret that her advice was far from grudging. So she endured pity and snickers as best she could, and everyone believed her as changed by her experiences as her face. That belief had to be maintained, or Romanda and Lelaine and very likely the rest of the Hall, too, would find ways to separate her-and her advice-from Egwene." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Help keep the tale going for the author.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, magic\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: The Path of Daggers\nChapter: 21" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Who'd expect Selame to go missing, too?\" she muttered, half to herself. \"Off canoodling with the soldiers, I expect. That Halima's a bad influence.\"\n\nA skinny young fellow with a dripping nose renewed the already dead coals in the braziers-the Amyrlin got more warmth than most, but that was not a great deal-and he stumbled over his own boots and gaped at Egwene in a manner quite gratifying after the two Sitters. Sheriam appeared to ask whether Egwene had any further instructions, of all things, and then seemed to want to stay. Perhaps the few secrets she knew made her nervous; her eyes certainly darted uneasily.\n\nThat was the lot, and Egwene was not sure whether it was because no one bothered the Amyrlin without cause, or because everyone knew the real decisions were made in the Hall.\n\n\"I don't know about this report of soldiers moving south out of Kandor,\" Siuan said as soon as the tentflap fell behind Sheriam. \"There's just the one, and Borderlanders seldom go far from the Blight, but every fool knows that, so it's hardly the kind of tale anyone would makeup.\" She was not reading from a page, now.\n\nSiuan had managed to keep very tenuous control of the Amyrlin's network of eyes-and-ears so far, and reports, rumors, and gossip flowed to her in steady streams, to be studied before she and Egwene decided what to pass onto the Hall. Leane had her own network, to add to the flow. Most of it was passed on-somethings the Hall had to know, and there was no guarantee that the Ajahs would pass on what their own agents learned-but it all had to be sieved for what might be dangerous, or serve to divert attention from the real goal." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Few of those streams carried anything good, of late. Cairhien had produced any number of rumors of Aes Sedai allied with Rand, or, worse, serving him, yet at least those could be dismissed out of hand. The Wise Ones would not say much at all about Rand or anyone connected to him, but according to them, Merana was awaiting his return, and certainly sisters in the Sun Palace, where the Dragon Reborn kept his first throne, were more than seed enough to grow those tales. Others were not easily ignored, even when it was hard to know what to make of them. A printer in Illian asserted that he had proof Rand had killed Mattin Stepaneos with his own hands and destroyed the body with the One Power, while a laborer on the docks there claimed she had seen the former King carried, bound and gagged and rolled in a rug, aboard a ship that had sailed in the night with the blessings of the captain of the Port Watch. The first was far more likely, but Egwene hoped none of the Ajahs'agents had picked up the same tale. There were already too many black marks against Rand's name in the sisters' books.\n\nIt went on like that. The Seanchan seemed to betaking a firm hold in Ebou Dar, against very little resistance. That might have been expected in a land where the Queen's true rule ended a few days\" ride from her capital, yet it was hardly heartening. The Shaido seemed to be everywhere, though word of them always came from someone who had heard from someone who had heard. Most sisters seemed to believe the scattered Shaido were Rand's work despite the Wise Ones\" denials, carried by Sheriam. No one wanted to probe the Wise Ones'supposed lies too closely, of course. There were a hundred excuses, but no one was willing to meet them in Tel'aran'rhiod except the sisters sworn to Egwene, and they had to be ordered. Anaiya dryly called the encounters'quite compact lessons in humility,\" and she did not seem at all amused." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There can't be that many Shaido,\" Egwene muttered. No herbs had been added to the second batch of charcoal, which was dying down in faint embers, and her eyes ached from the smoke that hung thin in the air. Channeling to get rid of it would disperse the last warmth, too. \"Some of this must be bandits\" work.\" After all, who could tell a village emptied by people fleeing brigands from one emptied by Shaido? Especially at third hand, or fifth. \"There are certainly enough bandits around to account for some of it.\" Most calling themselves Dragonsworn, which was no help at all. She worked her shoulders to loosen a few of the knots in her muscles.\n\nAbruptly she realized that Siuan was staring at nothing so intently that she appeared ready to slip off of her stool. \"Siuan, are you falling asleep? We may have worked most of the day, but it's still light out.\" There was light at the smoke hole, though it did appear to be fading.\n\nSiuan blinked. \"I'm sorry. I've been thinking about something lately, and trying to decide whether to share it with you. About the Hall.\"\n\n\"The Hall! Siuan, if you know something about the Hall-!\"\n\n\"I don't know anything,\" Siuan cut in. \"It's what I suspect.\" She clicked her tongue in annoyance. \"Not even suspect, really. At least, I don't know what to suspect. But I see a pattern.\"\n\n\"Then you had best tell me about it,\" Egwene said. Siuan had shown herself very skilled at detecting patterns where others saw only a jumble.\n\nShifting on her stool, Siuan leaned forward intently. \"It's this. Aside from Romanda and Moria, the Sitters chosen in Salidar are... they're too young.\" Much had changed in Siuan, but speaking of other sisters'ages clearly made her uncomfortable. \"Escaralde is the oldest, and I'm sure she isn't much past seventy. I can't be certain without going into the novice book in Tar Valon, or her telling us, but I'm assure as I can be. It isn't often the Hall has held more than one Sitter under a hundred, and here we have eight!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But Romanda and Moria are new,\" Egwene said gently, resting her elbows on the table. It had been along day. \"And neither is young. Maybe we should be grateful the others are, or they might not have been willing to raise me.\" She could have pointed out that Siuan herself had been chosen Amyrlin at less than half Escaralde's age, but the reminder would have been cruel.\n\n\"Maybe,\" Siuan said stubbornly. \"Romanda was certain for the Hall as soon as she showed up. I doubt there's a Yellow would dare speak against her fora chair. And Moria.... She doesn't cling to Lelaine, but Lelaine and Lyrelle probably thought she would. I don't know. Mark me, though. When a woman is raised too young, there's a reason.\" She took a deep breath. \"Including when I was.\" The pain of loss flashed across her face, the loss of the Amyrlin Seat certainly, maybe of all the losses she had suffered. It was gone almost as soon as it came. Egwene did not think she had ever known a woman as strong as Siuan Sanche. \"This time, there were more than enough sisters of proper age to choose from, and I can't see five Ajahs deadlocking on all of them. There is a pattern, and I mean to pick it out.\"\n\nEgwene did not agree. Change hung in the air whether Siuan wanted to see it or not. Elaida had broken custom, come very close to breaking law, in usurping Siuan's place. Sisters had fled the Tower and let the world know of it, and that last certainly had never happened before. Change. Older sisters were more likely to be tied to the old ways, but even some of them had to see that everything was shifting. Surely that was why younger women, more open to the new, had been chosen. Should she order Siuan to stop wasting her time with this? Siuan had enough else to do. Or would it be a kindness to let her continue? She wanted so deeply to prove that the change she saw was not really occurring at all." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Before Egwene could make a decision, Romanda ducked into the tent and stood holding the tentflap open. Long shadows stretched across the snow outside. Evening was coming fast. Romanda's face was as dark as those shadows. She fixed Siuan with astern gaze and snapped one word. \"Out!\"\n\nEgwene gave an infinitesimal nod, but Siuan was already on her feet. She missed a step, then all but ran from the tent. A sister who stood where Siuan did was expected to obey any sister of Romanda's strength in the Power, not just a Sitter.\n\nThrowing down the tentflap, Romanda embraced the Source. The glow of saidar surrounded her, and she wove award against eavesdropping around the inside of the tent without so much as a pretense of asking Egwene's permission. \"You area fool!\" she grated. \"How long did you think you could keep this a secret? Soldiers talk, child. Men always talk! Bryne will be lucky if the Hall doesn't put his head on a pike.\"\n\nEgwene stood slowly, smoothing her skirt. She had been waiting for this, but she still needed to be careful. The game was far from played out, and everything could still turn against her in a flash. She had to pretend innocence, until she could afford to stop pretending. \"Must I remind you that rudeness to the Amyrlin Seat is a crime, daughter,\" she said instead. She had been pretending so long, and she was so close.\n\n\"The Amyrlin Seat.\" Romanda strode across the carpets to within arm's reach of Egwene, and by her glare, the thought of reaching more crossed her mind. \"You're an infant! Your bottom still remembers the last switching it had as a novice! After this, you'll be lucky if the Hall doesn't put you in a corner with a few play pretties. If you want to avoid that, you will listen tome, and do as I tell you. Now, sit down!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Egwene seethed inside, but she sat. It was too soon.\n\nWith a sharp, satisfied nod, Romanda planted her fists on her hips. She stared down at Egwene like astern aunt lecturing a misbehaving niece. Avery stern aunt. Ora headsman with a toothache. \"This meeting with Pelivar and Arathelle has to go forward, now it's been arranged. They expect the Amyrlin Seat, and they will see her. You will attend with all the pomp and dignity your title deserves. And you will tell them I am to speak for you, after which, you will hold your tongue! Getting them out of our way will require a firm hand, and someone who knows what she's about. No doubt Lelaine will be here any minute, trying to put herself forward, but you just remember the trouble she's in. I've spent the day speaking with other Sitters, and it appears very likely that Merilille and Merana's failures will be quite firmly attached to Lelaine when the Hall sits next. So, if you have any hope of gaining the experience you'll need to grow into that stole, it lies with me! Do you understand me?\"\n\n\"I understand perfectly,\" Egwene said, in what she hoped was a meek voice. If she let Romanda speak in her place, there would no longer be any doubts. The Hall and the whole world would know who held Egwene al'Vere by the scruff of her neck.\n\nRomanda's eyes seemed to bore into her head before the woman gave a curt nod. \"I hope that you do. I intend to remove Elaida from the Amyrlin Seat, and I won't see that ruined because a child thinks she knows enough to find her way across the street without her handheld.\" With a snort, she flung her cloak around her and flung herself out of the tent. The ward vanished as she did." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Egwene sat and frowned at the tent's entrance." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A child? Burn the woman, she was the Amyrlin Seat! Whether they liked it or not, they had raised her, and they were going to have to live with it! Eventually. Snatching up the stone inkwell, she hurled it at the tentflap.\n\nLelaine dodged back, barely avoiding the splash. \"Temper, temper,\" she chided, coming on in.\n\nNo more asking permission than Romanda had, she embraced the Source and wove award to stop anyone overhearing what she had to say. Where Romanda had been in a fury, Lelaine appeared pleased with herself, rubbing her gloved hands and smiling.\n\n\"I don't suppose I need tell you your little secret is out. Very bad of Lord Bryne, but I think he's too valuable to kill. A good thing for him I do. Let me see. I suppose Romanda told you that there will be a meeting with Pelivar and Arathelle, but you are to let her do all the talking. Am I right?\" Egwene stirred, but Lelaine waved a hand at her. \"No need to answer. I know Romanda. Unfortunately for her, I learned about this before she did, and instead of running to you straightaway, I've been polling the other Sitters. Do you want to know what they think?\"\n\nEgwene balled her fists in her lap, where she hoped they would not be noticed. \"I expect you're going to tell me.\"\n\n\"You are in no position to take that tone with me,\" Lelaine said sharply, but the next instant, her smile returned. \"The Hall is displeased with you. Very displeased. Whatever Romanda has threatened you with-and it's easy enough to imagine-I can deliver. Romanda, on the other hand, has upset a number of Sitters with her bullying. So, unless you want to find yourself with less authority than the little you have now, Romanda is going to be surprised tomorrow when you name me to speak for you. It's hard to believe Arathelle and Pelivar were foolish enough to put a thing like this in motion, but they'll slink away with their tails between their legs once I'm done with them.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"How do I know you won't carryout those threats anyway?\" Egwene hoped her angry mutter sounded like sullenness. Light, but she was tired of this!\n\n\"Because I say I won't,\" Lelaine snapped. \"Don't you know by now that you aren't really in charge of anything? The Hall is, and that is between Romanda and me. In another hundred years, you may grow into the stole, but for now, sit quietly, fold your hands, and let someone who knows what she is about see to pulling Elaida down.\"\n\nAfter Lelaine left, Egwene once more sat staring. This time, she was not letting anger boil. You may grow into the stole. Almost the same thing Romanda had said. Someone who knows what she is about. Was she deceiving herself? A child, ruining what a woman with experience could handle easily?\n\nSiuan slipped into the tent and stood looking worried. \"Gareth Bryne just came to tell me the Hall knows,\" she said dryly. \"Undercover of asking about his shirts. Him and his bloody shirts! The meeting is set for tomorrow, at a lake about five hours to the north. Pelivar and Arathelle are already on the way. Aemlyn, too. That's a third strong House.\"\n\n\"That's more than Lelaine or Romanda saw fit to tell me,\" Egwene said, just as dryly. No. A hundred years of being led by the hand, pushed by the scruff of her neck, or fifty years, or five, and she would befit for nothing more. If she had to grow, she had to grow now.\n\n\"Oh, blood and bloody ashes,\" Siuan groaned. \"I can't stand it! What did they say? How did it go?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"About as we expected.\" Egwene smiled with a wonder that touched her voice, too. \"Siuan, they couldn't have handed me the Hall better if I had told them what to do.\"\n\nThe last light was failing as Sheriam approached her tiny tent, smaller even than Egwene's. If she had not been Keeper, she would have had to share. Ducking inside, she had only time to realize she was not alone when she was shielded and flung facedown on her cot. Stunned, she tried to cry out, but a corner of one of her blankets wadded itself into her mouth. Dress and shift burst away from her body like a pricked bubble.\n\nA hand stroked her head. \"You were supposed to keep me informed, Sheriam. That girl is up to something, and I want to know what.\"\n\nIt took along time to convince her questioner that she had already told all she knew, that she would never hold back a word, not a whisper. When she was left alone at last, it was to lie curled up and whimpering from her welts, bitterly wishing that she had never in her life spoken to a single sister in the Hall." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "CHAPTER 17\n\nOut on the Ice\n\nThe sun rose and climbed, a pale golden ball that gave no warmth. Every breath still bit the throat and produced a puff of mist. A sharp wind blew, not hard, but cutting, and to the west dark clouds rolled north on their way to Andor. She felt a touch of pity for whoever would know the burden of those clouds. And relief that they were heading away. Waiting another day would have been maddening. She had been unable to sleep at all, for fidgety restlessness, not headaches. Restlessness, and tendrils of fear that had crept in like cold air under the edges of the tent. She was not tired, though. She felt like a compressed spring, a tight-wound clock, full of energy that wanted desperately to find release. Light, everything could still go horribly wrong.\n\nIt was an impressive column, behind the standard of the White Tower, the white Flame of Tar Valon centered on a spiral of seven colors, one for each Ajah. Sewn secretly in Salidar, it had lain in the bottom of a chest ever since, with the keys in the keeping of the Hall. She did not think they would have produced it except for this morning's need for pomp. A thousand heavy cavalry in plate-and-mail provided a close escort, a panoply of lances, swords, maces and axes seldom seen south of the Borderlands. Their commander was a one-eyed Shienaran with a vividly painted eyepatch, a man she had met once, what seemed an Age ago. Uno Nomesta glared at the trees through the steel bars of his helmet's faceguard as if he expected every last one to hide an ambush, and his men seemed nearly as watchful, erect in their saddles.\n\nAlmost out of sight ahead through the trees rode a knot of men who wore helmets, breast-and backplates, but no other armor. Their cloaks whipped about freely; a gauntleted hand for the reins and a hand for the short bow they each carried left nothing to grasp at warmth. There were more farther on, and beyond sight to left and right and behind, another thousand altogether, to scout and screen. Gareth Bryne did not expect trickery from the Andorans, but he had been wrong before, so he said, and the Murandians were another matter. And then there was the possibility of assassins in Elaida's pay, or even Darkfriends. The Light alone knew when a Darkfriend might decide to kill, or why. For that matter, though the Shaido were supposedly faraway, no one ever seemed to know they were there until the killing began. Even bandits might have tried their hand with too small a party. Lord Bryne was not a man to take chances unnecessarily, and Egwene was very glad. Today, she wanted as many witnesses as possible." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She herself rode ahead of the banner, with Sheriam and Siuan and Bryne. The others appeared caught in their own thoughts. Lord Bryne sat his saddle easily, the mist of his even breath forming alight frost on his faceguard, yet Egwene could see him calmly marking terrain in his mind. In case he had to fight over it. Siuan rode so stiffly that she would be sore long before reaching their destination, but she stared north as though she could already seethe lake, and sometimes she nodded to herself, or shook her head. She would not have done that unless she was uneasy. Sheriam knew no more of what was to come than the Sitters did, yet she appeared even more nervous than Siuan, shifting constantly in her saddle and grimacing. Anger shone in her green eyes, too, for some reason.\n\nClose behind the banner came the entire Hall of the Tower in double column, wearing embroidered silks and rich velvets and furs and cloaks with the Flame large on the back. Women who seldom wore more ornaments than the Great Serpent ring were decked today in the finest gems the camp's jewelry caskets could supply. Their Warders made a more splendid display simply by wearing their color-shifting cloaks; parts of the men seemed to vanish as the disquieting cloaks swirled in the stiff breeze. Servants followed, two or three for every sister, on the best horses that could be found for them. They might have passed for lesser nobility themselves if a number had not been leading pack animals; every chest in the camp had been ransacked to outfit them in bright colors.\n\nPerhaps because she was one of the Sitters without a Warder, Delana had brought Halima along, on a spirited white mare. The two rode almost knee-to-knee. Sometimes Delana would lean toward Halima to speak privately, though Halima appeared too excited to listen. Supposedly, Halima was Delana's secretary, but everyone believed it a case of charity, or possibly friendship, however unlikely, between the dignified, pale-haired sister and the hot-natured, raven-haired countrywoman. Egwene had seen Halima's hand, and it had the unformed look of a child's just learning her letters. Today, she was in garments as fine as any sister's, with gems that easily equaled Delana's, who must have been their source. Whenever a gust opened her velvet cloak, she displayed a shocking amount of bosom, and she always laughed and took her time about gathering it around her again, refusing to admit that she felt the cold anymore than the sisters did." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "For once, Egwene was glad of all the gifts of clothing she had been given, allowing her to surpass the Sitters. Her green-and-blue silk was slashed with white and worked with seed pearls. Pearls even decorated the backs of her gloves. At the last minute a cloak lined with ermine had been provided by Romanda, and a necklace and earrings of emeralds and white opals by Lelaine. The moonstones in her hair came from Janya. The Amyrlin had to be resplendent today. Even Siuan appeared ready fora ball, in blue velvets and cream lace, with a wide band of pearls at her throat and more laced through her hair.\n\nRomanda and Lelaine led the Sitters, riding so closely behind the soldier bearing the banner that he glanced over his shoulder nervously and sometimes edged his horse nearer the riders ahead of him. Egwene managed not to look back more than once or twice, yet she could feel their eyes pressing between her shoulder blades. Each thought her tied in a neat bundle, but each had to be wondering whose cords had done the binding. Oh, Light, this could not go wrong. Not now.\n\nOther than the column, little moved in all that snow-covered landscape. Abroad-winged hawk wheeled overhead against the cold blue sky fora time before winging eastward. Twice Egwene saw black-tailed foxes trotting in the distance, still in their summer fur, and once, a large deer with tall forked antlers ghosted away and vanished amid the trees. A hare, starting upright under Bela's hooves and bounding off, made the shaggy mare toss her head, and Siuan yelped and grabbed at the reins as if she expected Bela to bolt. Of course, Bela only gave a reproachful snort and plodded onward. Egwene's tall roan gelding shied more, and the hare had not gone near him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Siuan began grumbling under her breath after the hare scampered away, and it took quite sometime before she eased Bela's reins." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Being on a horse always made her grumpy-she traveled in one of the wagons whenever possible-but she was seldom this bad. There was no need to look further than Lord Bryne, or her fierce glances at him, to know why.\n\nIf he noticed Siuan's looks, he gave no sign. The only one not in fine array, he looked as he always did, plain and slightly battered. A rock that had weathered storms and would outlast more to come. For some reason, Egwene was glad he had resisted their efforts to dress him in finer garb. They truly did need to make an impression, yet she thought he made an excellent one as he was.\n\n\"It's a fine morning to be in the saddle,\" Sheriam said after a time. \"Nothing like a good ride in the snow to clear the head.\" Her voice was not low, and she cut her eyes at the still-muttering Siuan with a tiny smile.\n\nSiuan did not say anything-she hardly could do that in front of so many eyes-but she did give Sheriam a hard look that promised sharp words for later. The fire-haired woman twisted away abruptly with very close to a wince. Wing, her dappled gray mare, pranced a few steps, and Sheriam settled her down with almost too firm a hand. She had shown little gratitude to the woman who had named her Mistress of Novices, and like most in that position, she found reasons to blame Siuan. It was the only flaw Egwene had found in her since the swearing. Well, she had protested that, as Keeper, she should not have to take orders from Siuan the way the others who had sworn did, but Egwene had seen right away where that would lead. This was not the first time Sheriam had tried to plant a barb. Siuan insisted on handling Sheriam herself, and her pride was too fragile for Egwene to deny the request unless matters got out of hand." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Egwene wished there were someway to make more speed. Siuan went back to her grumbling, and Sheriam was obviously thinking of something else to say that would not quite bring a rebuke. All that muttering and cutting of eyes began to find their way under Egwene's skin. After awhile, even Bryne's levelheaded poise began to wear. She found herself thinking of things she might say that would shake his aplomb. Unfortunately-or perhaps fortunately-she did not believe anything could. But if she had to wait much longer, she thought she might burst from sheer impatience.\n\nThe sun climbed toward midday, the painfully slow miles passed behind, and at last one of the riders ahead turned and raised his hand. With a hasty apology to Egwene, Bryne galloped forward. It was really more of a lumber through the snow for his sturdy bay gelding, Traveler, but he caught up to the outriders, exchanged a few words, then sent them on through the trees and waited for Egwene and the others to reach him.\n\nAshe fell in beside her once more, Romanda and Lelaine joined them. The two Sitters barely acknowledged Egwene's presence, fixing Bryne with the cool serenity that had shaken so many men facing Aes Sedai. Except that now and then, each glanced sideways at the other in a considering way. They hardly seemed to realize what they were doing. Egwene hoped they were half as nervous as she; she would be satisfied with that.\n\nCoolly serene stares washed over Bryne like rain over that rock. He made slight bows to the Sitters, but he spoke to Egwene. \"They've already arrived, Mother.\" That had been expected. \"They brought almost as many men as we did, but they're all on the north side of the lake. I've put scouts out to make sure nobody tries circling around, but in truth, I don't expect it.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Let us hope you're right,\" Romanda told him sharply, and Lelaine added in a much colder tone, \"Your judgment has not been all it should be, of late, Lord Bryne.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A frigid, cutting tone.\n\n\"As you say, Aes Sedai.\" He made another slight bow without really turning from Egwene. Like Siuan, he was tied to her openly now, at least so far as the Hall was concerned. If only they did not know how tightly. If only she could be sure how tightly. \"One thing more, Mother,\" he went on. \"Talmanes is thereat the lake, too. There are about a hundred of the Band on the east side. Not enough to cause trouble even if he wanted to, and small chance he would, I think.\"\n\nEgwene merely nodded. Not enough to cause trouble? Talmanes alone might be enough! She tasted bile. It-could-not-go-wrong-now!\n\n\"Talmanes!\" Lelaine exclaimed, serenity shattering. She must have been as much on edge as Egwene. \"How did he find out? If you've included Dragonsworn in your scheming, Lord Bryne, you truly will learn what going too far means!\"\n\nRight on top of her, Romanda growled, \"This is disgraceful! You say you've only learned of his presence now? If that's so, your reputation is puffed up like a boil!\" Aes Sedai calm was a thin layer for some today, it seemed.\n\nThey continued in that vein, but Bryne rode on, only murmuring the occasional'As you say, Aes Sedai,\" when he had to say something. He had received worse in Egwene's hearing this morning, and reacted no more. It was Siuan who finally snorted, and then blushed crimson when the Sitters looked at her in surprise. Egwene almost shook her head. Siuan was very definitely in love. And she very definitely needed talking to! For some reason, Bryne smiled, but that might just have been because he was no longer the object of the Sitters\" attention." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Trees gave way to another open space, larger than most, and there was no more time for frivolous thoughts.\n\nAside from a wide rim of tall brown reeds and cattails poking through the snow, nothing named this a lake. It could have been a big meadow, flat and very roughly oval in shape. Some distance from the treeline, on the frozen lake, stood a large blue canopy on tall poles, with a small crowd of people milling about it and dozens of horses held by servants behind. The breeze ruffled a bright thicket of pennants and banners, and carried muffled shouts that could only have been orders. More servants darted about hastily. Apparently, they had not been there long enough to finish their preparations.\n\nPerhaps a mile away the trees began again, and the feeble sunlight glinted off metal there. Quite a lot of metal, stretching the length of the far shore. To the east, almost as close as the pavilion, the hundred men of the Band made no effort at concealment, standing beside their mounts just short of where the cattails began. A few of them pointed when the flag of Tar Valon appeared. The people at the pavilion stopped to look.\n\nEgwene did not pause before riding out onto the snow-covered ice. She did imagine herself a rosebud opening to the sun, though, that old novice exercise. She did not actually embrace saidar, but the calm that came was very welcome.\n\nSiuan and Sheriam followed, and the Sitters with their Warders, and the servants. Lord Bryne and the banner-man were the only two soldiers who went. Shouts rising behind her told of Uno putting his armored horsemen into position along the shoreline. The more lightly armored men were arrayed to either side, those not off guarding against treachery. One reason the lake had been chosen was that the ice was thick enough to hold a fair number of horses, but not hundreds, much less thousands. That cut down on the chance of chicanery. Of course, a pavilion beyond bowshot was not beyond the range of the One Power, not if it could be seen. Except that the worst man in the world knew himself safe from that unless he threatened a sister. Egwene exhaled sharply, and began acquiring calm allover again." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A proper greeting for the Amyrlin Seat should have had servants rushing forward with warm drinks and cloths wrapped around hot bricks, and the lords and ladies themselves to take reins and offer a kiss in token of Abram. Any visitor of rank at all would have had the servants, but no one stirred from the pavilion. Bryne himself dismounted and came to hold Daishar's bridle, and the same lanky young man who had come with fresh charcoal the day before ran to hold Egwene's stirrup. His nose still dripped, but in a red velvet coat only a little too large for him and a bright blue cloak, he outshone any of the nobles who stood staring from under the canopy. They appeared to be in stout woolens for the most part, with not much embroidery and very little silk or lace. Likely they had had to scramble to find suitable clothes once the snows began, and them already on the march. Though the simple truth was that the young man might have outshone a Tinker.\n\nCarpets had been laid to floor the pavilion, and braziers lit, though the breeze carried away heat and smoke alike. Chairs stood in two facing lines for the delegations, eight in each. They had not expected so many sisters. Some of the waiting nobles exchanged looks of consternation, and a number of their servants actually wrung their hands, wondering what to do. They need not have.\n\nThe chairs were a mismatched miscellany, but they were all alike in size, and none was noticeably more worn or battered than another. None had noticeably more or less gilded carving. The lanky young man and a number of others trotted in and under the frowns of the nobles, without so much as a by-your-leave, carried those meant for Aes Sedai out into the snow, then rushed to help with unloading the packhorses. Still, no one spoke a word." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Quickly, seats were setup sufficient for the entire Hall, and Egwene. Only simple benches, though polished till they gleamed, but each stood on a wide box covered with cloth in the color of the Sitter's Ajah, in along row as wide as the canopy. The box placed in front, for Egwene's bench, was striped like her stole. There had been a great flurry of activity in the night, beginning with finding beeswax for polish and good cloth of the right colors.\n\nWhen Egwene and the Sitters took their places, they sat afoot higher than anyone else. She had had her doubts about that, but the lack of any word of welcome had settled those. The meanest farmer would have offered a cup and a kiss to a vagabond on the Feast of Abram. They were not supplicants, and they were not equals. They were Aes Sedai.\n\nWarders stood behind their Aes Sedai, and Siuan and Sheriam flanked Egwene. The sisters ostentatiously flung back cloaks and tucked gloves away to emphasize that the cold did not touch them, a sharp contrast to the nobles clutching their own cloaks close. Outside, the Flame of Tar Valon lifted in the stiffening breeze. Only Halima, lounging beside Delana's chair on the edge of the gray-covered box, at all spoiled the grand image, and her big green eyes stared at the Andorans and Murandians so challengingly that she did not spoil it much.\n\nThere were a few stares when Egwene took the seat in front, but only a few. No one really looked surprised. I suppose they've heard all about the girl Amyrlin, she thought dryly. Well, there had been queens younger, including queens of Andor and Murandy. Calmly, she nodded, and Sheriam gestured to the line of chairs. No matter who had arrived first or provided the pavilion, there was no doubt who had called this meeting. Who was in charge." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her action was not well received, of course. There was a moment of silent hesitation while the nobles cast their minds about for someway to regain an equal footing, and no few grimaces as they realized it could not be done. Grim-faced, eight of them sat down, four men and four women, with much angry gathering of cloaks and adjusting of skirts. Those of lesser rank stood behind the chairs, and clearly there was little love lost between Andoran and Murandian. For that matter, the Murandians, men and women alike, muttered and jostled one another for precedence as fiercely as they did their'allies\" from the north. The Aes Sedai received a good many dark looks as well, and a few folk spared scowls for Bryne, who stood off to one side with his helmet under his arm. He was well known on both sides of the border, and respected even by most of those who would have liked to see him dead. At least, that had been the case before he turned up leading the Aes Sedai's army. He ignored their acid glares as he had the Sitters\" acid tongues.\n\nAnother man did not join with either party. A pale man, less than a hand taller than Egwene, in a dark coat and breastplate, he wore the front of his head shaved, and there was along red scarf tied around his left arm. His deep gray cloak had a large red hand worked on the breast. Talmanes stood opposite Bryne, leaning against one of the pavilion's poles with an arrogant casualness, and watched without revealing a hint of his thoughts. Egwene wished she knew what he was doing there. She wished she knew what he had said before she arrived. In any case, she had to speak with him. If it could be managed without a hundred ears listening." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A lean, weathered man in a red cloak, sitting in the middle of the row of chairs, leaned forward and opened his mouth, but Sheriam forestalled him in a clear, carrying voice.\n\n\"Mother, may I present to you, of Andor, Arathelle Renshar, High Seat of House Renshar. Pelivar Coelan, High Seat of House Coelan. Aemlyn Carand, High Seat of House Carand, and her husband, Culhan Carand.\" They acknowledged their names sourly, with bare nods and no more. Pelivar was the lean man; he was losing his dark hair from the front. Sheriam went on without pause; it was a good thing Bryne had been able to supply the names of those who had been chosen to speak. \"May I present, of Murandy, Donel do Morny a'Lordeine. Cian do Mehon a'Macansa. Paitr do Fearna a'Conn. Segan do Avharin a'Roos.\" The Murandians seemed to feel the lack of titles even more than the Andorans. Donel, wearing more lace than most of the women, twisted his curled mustaches fiercely, and Paitr appeared to be trying to yank his loose. Segan pursed full lips and her dark eyes caught fire, while Cian, a stocky, graying woman, snorted quite loudly. Sheriam took no notice. \"You are beneath the eyes of the Watcher of the Seals. You are before the Flame of Tar Valon. You may present your supplications to the Amyrlin Seat.\"\n\nWell. They did not like that, not in the least. Egwene had thought them sour before, but now they looked stuffed full of green persimmons. Perhaps they had believed they could pretend she was not the Amyrlin at all. They would learn. Of course, first she had to teach the Hall." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There are ancient ties between Andor and the White Tower,\" she said, loudly and firmly. \"Sisters have always expected welcome in Andor or Murandy. Why then do you bring an army against Aes Sedai? You meddle where thrones and nations fear to step. Thrones have fallen, meddling in the affairs of Aes Sedai.\"\n\nThat sounded suitably threatening, whether or not Myrelle and the others had managed to prepare her way. With luck, they were well on their way back to the camp, with no one the wiser. Unless one of these nobles spoke the wrong name. That would lose her an advantage against the Hall, but alongside everything else, it was a straw beside a hayloft.\n\nPelivar exchanged looks with the woman seated beside him, and she stood. Creases in her face could not disguise the fact that Arathelle had been a beautiful, fine-boned woman when young; now, gray threaded thickly through her hair, and her gaze struck as hard as any Warder's. Her red-gloved hands gripped the edges of her cloak at her sides, but plainly not in worry. Mouth compressed to a thin line, she scanned the line of Sitters, and only then spoke. Past Egwene, to the sisters behind her. Gritting her teeth, Egwene put on an attentive expression.\n\n\"We are here precisely because we do not want to become entangled in the White Tower's affairs.\" Arathelle's voice held tones of authority, unsurprising in the High Seat of a powerful House. There was no hint of the diffidence that might have been expected, even from a powerful High Seat, facing so many sisters, not to mention the Amyrlin Seat. \"If all we've heard is true, then at best, allowing you to pass through Andor unhindered may seem like giving aid, or even alliance, in the eyes of the White Tower. Failure to oppose you might mean learning what the grape learns in the winepress.\" Several of the Murandians turned their scowls on her. No one in Murandy had tried to hinder the sisters\" passage. Very likely, no one had considered the possibilities beyond the day they passed onto another's lands." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Arathelle continued as if she had not noticed, but Egwene doubted that. \"At worst.... We have heard... reports... of Aes Sedai making their way into Andor in secret, and Tower Guards. Rumors might be a better word, but they come from many places. None of us would like to see a battle between Aes Sedai in Andor.\"\n\n\"The Light preserve and protect us!\" Donel burst out, red-faced. Paitr nodded encouragement, sliding to the edge of his seat, and Cian looked ready to jump in herself. \"No one wants to see it here, either!\" Donel spat. \"Not between Aes Sedai! For sure, we've heard what happened out east! And those sisters-!\"\n\nEgwene breathed a little more easily when Arathelle stepped on him firmly. \"If you please, Lord Donel. You will have your turn to speak.\" She turned back to Egwene-to the Sitters once more, really-without waiting on his reply, leaving him spluttering and the other three Murandians glowering. She herself looked quite undisturbed, simply a woman laying out the facts. Laying them out, and meaning that they should be seen as she saw them.\n\n\"As I was saying. That is the worst we fear, if the tales are true. And also if they are not. Aes Sedai maybe gathering secretly in Andor, with Tower Guards. Aes Sedai with an army are ready to enter Andor. Often enough the White Tower has seemed to aim atone target, only for the rest of us to learn later it was aiming at another all along. I can hardly imagine even the White Tower going this far, but if ever there was a target you might twist yourselves into a knot for, it's the Black Tower.\" Arathelle shivered slightly, and Egwene did not think it was the cold. \"A battle between Aes Sedai might ruin the land for miles around. That battle might ruin half of Andor.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Pelivar sprang to his feet. \"The plain of it is, you must go another way.\" His voice was surprisingly high, but no less firm than Arathelle's. \"If I must die to defend my lands and my people, then better here than where my lands and people die, too.\"\n\nHe subsided at Arathelle's soothing gesture, sinking back into his chair. Hard-eyed, he did not look mollified. Aemlyn, a plump woman wrapped in dark wool, nodded agreement with him, as did her square-faced husband.\n\nDonel stared at Pelivar as though he had never had this thought either, and he was not the only one. Some of the standing Murandians began to argue out loud until others quieted them. Sometimes with a shaken fist. Whatever had possessed these people to join forces with the Andorans?\n\nEgwene drew breath. A rosebud, opening to the sun. They had not acknowledged her as the Amyrlin Seat-Arathelle had come as close to ignoring her as was possible without pushing her aside!-yet they had given her everything else she could have wished for. Calm. Now was when Lelaine and Romanda would be expecting her to name one of them to handle the negotiations. She hoped their stomachs were tied in knots with wondering which of them it would be. There would be no negotiations. There could be none.\n\n\"Elaida,\" she said levelly, eyeing Arathelle and the seated nobles in turn, \"is a usurper who has violated what lies at the very heart of the White Tower. I am the Amyrlin Seat.\" She was surprised at how stately she managed to sound, how cool. But not as surprised as she once would have been. The Light help her, she was the Amyrlin Seat. \"We go to Tar Valon to remove Elaida and try her, but that is the White Tower's business, and none of yours except to know the truth. This so-called Black Tower also is our business; men who can channel have always been the White Tower's affair. We will deal with them as we choose, when the time is ripe, but I assure you, that time is not now. More important matters must take precedence.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She heard movement among the Sitters behind her. An actual shifting on benches and the crisp swishing of divided skirts being adjusted. At least some must be severely agitated. Well, several had suggested that the Black Tower might be dealt within passing. Not one believed there could be more than a dozen or so men thereat most, no matter what they heard; after all, it simply was not possible that hundreds of men would want to channel. Then again, it might have been the realization that Egwene was not going to name either Romanda or Lelaine.\n\nArathelle frowned, perhaps catching a hint of something in the air. Pelivar moved, on the point of rising again, and Donel drew himself up querulously. There was nothing for it but to press on. There never had been.\n\n\"I understand your concerns,\" she continued in the same formal tone, \"and I will address them.\" What was that strange call to arms the Band used? Yes. It was time to toss the dice. \"I give you this assurance as the Amyrlin Seat. For one month we will stay here, resting, and then we will leave Murandy, but we will not cross the border into Andor. Murandy will be troubled by us no more after that, and Andor will not be troubled at all. I'm certain,\" she added, \"the Murandian lords and ladies here will be happy to supply our wants in exchange for good silver. We will pay fair prices.\" There was no point mollifying the Andorans if it meant Murandians raiding the horses and supply trains.\n\nThe Murandians, looking around uneasily, appeared decidedly torn in any case. There was coin to be made, and a great deal of it supplying an army so large, but on the other hand, who could haggle successfully with whatever an army so large offered? Donel actually seemed ready to sick up, while Cian seemed to be doing sums in her head. Mutters rose among the onlookers. More than mutters; nearly loud enough for Egwene." }, { "from": "human", "value": "She wanted to look over her shoulder." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The silence from the Sitters was deafening. Siuan was staring straight ahead and gripping her skirts as if to keep herself looking forward by main force. At least she had known what was coming. Sheriam, who had not, eyed the Andorans and Murandians regally, calmly, as though she had expected every word.\n\nEgwene needed to make them forget the girl they saw before them, and hear a woman with the reins of power firmly in hand. If they were not in her hands now, they would be! She firmed her voice. \"Mark me well. I have made my decision; it is for you to accept it. Or face what surely will come from your failure.\" As she fell silent, the wind gusted to a brief howl, rattling the canopy, tugging at garments. Egwene straightened her hair calmly. Some of the watching nobles shivered and twitched their cloaks around them, and she hoped their shivers came from more than the weather.\n\nArathelle exchanged looks with Pelivar and Aemlyn, and all three studied the Sitters before slowly nodding. They believed she was merely mouthing words the Sitters had put on her tongue! Even so, Egwene very nearly sighed with relief.\n\n\"It will be as you say,\" the hard-eyed noblewoman said. Again, to the Sitters. \"We do not doubt the word of Aes Sedai, of course, but you will understand if we also remain. Sometimes, what you hear isn't what you think you heard. Not that that's the case here, I'm sure. But we will stay while you do.\" Donel truly looked ready to empty himself. Very likely his lands lay nearby. Andoran armies in Murandy had seldom been known to pay for anything.\n\nEgwene stood, and she could hear the rustle of the Sitters rising behind her. \"It is agreed, then. We must all depart soon, if we are to return to our own beds before dark, but we should spare a few moments. Getting to know one another a little better now might avoid misunderstandings later.\" And talk might give her a chance to reach Talmanes. \"Oh. One other thing you should all be aware of. The novice book is now open to any woman, whatever her age, if she tests true.\" Arathelle blinked. Siuan did not, yet Egwene thought she heard a faint grunt. This was not part of what they had discussed, but there would never be a better time. \"Come. I'm sure you would all like to speak with the Sitters. Let formality go.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Without waiting for Sheriam to offer a hand, she stepped down. She almost felt like laughing. Last night she had been afraid she might never reach her goal, but she was halfway there, almost halfway, and it had not been nearly as difficult as she had feared. Of course, the other half remained." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "CHAPTER 18\n\nA Peculiar Calling\n\nEgwene pulled Sheriam away from the narrow-eyed man. \"Find out discreetly all you can about these sisters and Tower Guards in Andor,\" she whispered hastily. As soon as she released the woman, Donel reclaimed her. Sheriam actually looked put-upon, but her frown disappeared quickly. Donel blinked uneasily as she began questioning him.\n\nRomanda and Lelaine gazed at Egwene through the crowd with faces carved from ice, but each had acquired a pair of nobles who wanted.... Something. Reassurance that there was no hidden trick in Egwene's words, perhaps. How they would hate doing that, but dodge and duck as they would-and they would!-there was noway to really avoid that reassurance without repudiating heron the spot. Even those two would not go that far. Not here, not publicly.\n\nSiuan slipped close to Egwene, features set in meekness. Except that her eyes darted, maybe looking for Romanda or Lelaine coming to seize them where they stood, and forget law, custom, propriety and who was watching. \"Shein Chunla,\" she all but hissed in a whisper.\n\nEgwene nodded, but her eyes searched for Talmanes. Most of the men and some of the women were tall enough to hide him. With everyone shifting about.... She went upon her toes. Where had he gone to?\n\nSegan planted herself in front of her, fists on her hips, eyeing Siuan doubtfully. Egwene let her heels down hurriedly. The Amyrlin could not bob about like a girl at a dance looking fora boy. A rosebud unfolding. Calm. Serenity. Drat all men!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A slender woman with long dark hair, Segan seemed to have been born petulant, her full mouth fixed in a pout. Her dress was good blue wool and made for warmth, but it had far too much vivid green embroidery across her bosom, and her gloves were bright enough fora Tinker. She looked Egwene up and down, pursing her lips, with as much incredulity on her face as she had given Siuan. \"What you said about the novice book,\" she said abruptly. \"Were you meaning any woman of any age at all? Any can become Aes Sedai, then?\"\n\nA question close to Egwene's heart, and an answer she dearly wanted to give-along with a box on the ear for the doubt-but just then a small gap in the flow of people showed her Talmanes near the back of the pavilion. Talking with Pelivar! They stood stiffly, mastiffs not quite ready to show teeth, yet they were keeping a watch to make sure no one came close enough to overhear what they had to say. \"Any woman of any age at all, daughter,\" she agreed absently. Pelivar?\n\n\"Thank you,\" Segan said, and haltingly added, \"Mother.\" She sketched a curtsy, the barest hint of one, before hurrying off. Egwene stared after her. Well, it was a beginning.\n\nSiuan snorted. \"I don't mind sailing the Fingers of the Dragon in the dark if I must,\" she muttered half under her breath. \"We discussed that; we weighed the dangers, and anyway, there doesn't seem to be a gull's last dinner for choice. But you have to set afire on deck just to make things interesting. Netting lion-fish isn't enough for you. You have to stuff a prickleback down your dress, too. You aren't content trying to wade a school of silverpike-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Egwene broke in." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Siuan, I think I should tell Lord Bryne you're head over heels in love with him. It's only fair that he know, don't you agree?\" Siuan's blue eyes bulged, and her mouth worked, but all that came out was a sort of gobbling. Egwene patted her shoulder. \"You're Aes Sedai, Siuan. Try to maintain at least a little dignity. And try to find out about those sisters in Andor.\" The crowd parted again. She saw Talmanes in a different place, but still on the edge of the pavilion. And alone, now.\n\nTrying not to hurry, she walked in his direction, leaving Siuan still gobbling. A pretty, black-haired serving man, whose bulky woolen breeches could not quite hide neatly turned calves, offered Siuan a steaming silver cup from a tray. Other servants were moving about with other silver trays. Refreshment was being offered, if a bit late. It was much too late for the kiss of peace. She did not hear what Siuan said as she snatched a cup, but from the way the fellow jerked and started bobbing bows, he had received sharp shards of her temper at the least. Egwene sighed.\n\nTalmanes stood with arms folded, observing the goings-on with an amused smile that did not reach his eyes. He seemed poised to explode into motion, but his eyes were tired. At her approach, he made a respectful leg, but there was awry touch to his voice when he said, \"You changed a border today.\" He gathered his cloak against the icy breeze. \"It has always been... fluid... between Andor and Murandy, no matter what maps say, but Andor has never come south in such numbers before. Except for the Aiel War, and the Whitecloak War, anyway, but they were only passing through, then. Once they have been here a month, new maps will show anew line. Look at the Murandians scramble, fawning over Pelivar and his companions as much as they do the sisters. They are hoping to make new friends for the new day.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "To Egwene, trying to conceal her careful watch on those who might be watching her, it seemed that all of the nobles, Murandian and Andoran, were intent on the Sitters, crowding around them. In any case, she had slightly more important matters in mind than borders. To her, if not to the nobles. Except for brief moments, none of the Sitters were visible beyond the tops of their heads. Only Halima and Siuan seemed to notice her, and a babble like that of a flock of excited geese filled the air. She lowered her voice, and chose her words carefully.\n\n\"Friends are always important, Talmanes. You've been a good friend to Mat, and I think tome. I hope that hasn't changed. I hope you've not told anyone what you shouldn't.\" Light, she was anxious, or she would not have been so direct. Next, she would come right out and ask what he and Pelivar had been talking about!\n\nLuckily, he did not laugh at her fora blunt-tongued village woman. Though he might have been thinking it. He studied her seriously before speaking. Ina soft voice. He also knew caution. \"Not all men gossip. Tell me, when you sent Mat south, did you know what you would do here today?\"\n\n\"How could I know that two months ago? No, Aes Sedai aren't omniscient, Talmanes.\" She had hoped for something that would put her in the place she was, had planned for it, but she had not known, not back then. She also hoped he did not gossip. Some men did not.\n\nRomanda started toward her with a firm stride and a frozen face, but Arathelle intercepted her, catching the Yellow Sitter's arm and refusing to be put off despite Romanda's astonishment." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Will you at least tell me where Mat is?\" Talmanes asked. \"On his way to Caemlyn with the Daughter-Heir? Why are you surprised? A serving woman will speak to a soldier when fetching water from the same stream. Even when he is a horrible Dragonsworn,\" he added dryly.\n\nLight! Men really were... inconvenient... at times. The best of them found ways to say exactly the wrong thing at the wrong moment, to ask the wrong question. Not to mention inveigling serving women into prattle. So much easier if she could just lie, but he had given her plenty of room within the Oaths. Half the truth would suffice, and keep him from haring off to Ebou Dar. Maybe less than half.\n\nOver in the far corner of the pavilion, Siuan stood conversing with a tall young redhead with curled mustaches who was eyeing her as dubiously as Segan had. Nobles usually knew the look of Aes Sedai. But he held only apart of Siuan's attention. Her gaze constantly flickered toward Egwene. It seemed to shout, loud as conscience. Easier. Expedient. What it was to be Aes Sedai. She had not known about today, only hoped! Egwene expelled an irritated breath. Burn the woman!\n\n\"He was in Ebou Dar, the last I heard,\" she muttered. \"But he must be hurrying north as fast as he can by now. He still thinks he has to save me, Talmanes, and Matrim Cauthon wouldn't miss the chance to be on the spot so he can say I told you so.\"\n\nTalmanes did not look at all surprised. \"I thought it might be so,\" he sighed. \"I have... felt... something, for weeks now. Others in the Band have, too. Not urgent, but always there. As if he needed me. As if I should look south, anyway. It can be peculiar, following a ta'veren.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I suppose it can,\" she agreed, hoping none of her incredulity showed." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was strange enough to think of Mat the wastrel as leader of the Band of the Red Hand, much less as ta'veren, but surely a ta'veren had to be present, nearby at least, to have any effect.\n\n\"Mat was wrong about you needing rescue. You never had any intention of coming tome for help, did you?\"\n\nHe still spoke softly, but she looked around hurriedly anyway. Siuan was still watching them. And so was Halima. Paitr stood much too close to her, puffing and preening and stroking his mustaches-from the way he stared down her dress, he had not mistaken her fora sister, that was certain!-but she was giving him only half her mind, darting sidelong glances in Egwene's direction while she smiled up at him warmly. Everyone else appeared occupied, and no one stood close enough to hear.\n\n\"The Amyrlin Seat could hardly go running for sanctuary, now could she? But there have been times it's been a comfort knowing you were there,\" she admitted. Reluctantly. The Amyrlin Seat was hardly supposed to need a bolt-hole, but it could do no harm so long as none of the Sitters knew. \"You have been a friend, Talmanes. I hope that continues. I truly do.\"\n\n\"You have been more... open... with me than I expected,\" he said slowly, \"so I will tell you something.\" His face did not change-to any watcher, he must have seemed as casual as before-but his voice dropped to a whisper. \"I have had approaches from King Roedran about the Band. It seems he has hopes of being Murandy's first real king. He wants to hire us. I would not have considered it, normally, but there is never enough coin, and with this... this feel of Mat needing us.... It might be better if we remain in Murandy. Clear as good glass, you are where you want to be and have everything in hand.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He fell silent as a young serving woman curtsied to offer mulled wine. She wore finely embroidered green wool and a cloak plush with spotted rabbit. Other servants from the camp were helping out now, as well, no doubt for something to do besides stand and shiver. The young woman's round face was decidedly pinched from the cold.\n\nTalmanes waved her off and pulled his cloak back around him, but Egwene took a silver cup to gain a moment for thought. Truly there was little need for the Band any longer. Despite all the muttering, the sisters took their presence as a matter of course now, Dragon-sworn or not; they no longer feared an attack, and there had been no real need to use the Band's presence to prod them into moving since leaving Salidar. The only true purpose Shen an Calhar served now was to draw recruits into Bryne's army, men who thought two armies meant a battle and wanted to be on the side with the greatest numbers. She had no need of them, but Talmanes had acted as a friend. And she was Amyrlin. Sometimes friendship and responsibility pushed in the same direction.\n\nAs the serving woman moved off, Egwene laid a hand on Talmanes'arm. \"You must not do that. Even the Band can't conquer all of Murandy by itself, and every hand will be against you. You know very well the one thing that makes Murandians stand together is foreigners on their soil. Follow us to Tar Valon, Talmanes. Mat will come there; I have no doubt of that.\" Mat would not really believe she was the Amyrlin until he saw her wearing the stole in the White Tower.\n\n\"Roedran is no fool,\" he said placidly. \"All he wants us to do is sit and wait, a foreign army-without Aes Sedai-and nobody knowing what it is up to. He should not have much trouble uniting the nobles against us. Then, so he says, we quietly slip across the border. He thinks he can hold onto them afterward.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She could not stop a touch of heat entering her voice. \"And what is to stop him betraying you? If the threat goes away without a fight, his dream of a united Murandy might, too.\" The fool man seemed amused!\n\n\"I am not a fool either. Roedran cannot be ready before spring. This lot would never have stirred from their manors if the Andorans had not come south, and they were on the march before the snows began. Before then, Mat will find us. If he is coming north, he must hear of us. Roedran will have to be satisfied with whatever he has managed by then. So if Mat does intend to go to Tar Valon, I may see you there yet.\"\n\nEgwene made a vexed sound. It was a remarkable plan, the sort of thing Siuan might devise, and hardly a scheme she thought Roedran Almaric do Arreloa a'Naloy could carry off. The fellow was said to be so dissolute he made Mat look wholesome. But then, it was hardly a scheme she would have believed Roedran could think up. The only certainty was that Talmanes had made up his mind.\n\n\"I want your word, Talmanes, that you won't let Roedran pull you into a war.\" Responsibility. The narrow stole around her neck seemed to weigh ten times more than her cloak. \"If he moves sooner than you think, you will leave whether or not Mat has joined you.\"\n\n\"I wish I could promise, but it is not possible,\" he protested. \"I expect the first raid against my foragers three days at most after I start moving away from Lord Bryne's army. Every lordling and farmer will think he can pickup a few horses in the night, give me a pinprick, and runoff to hide.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'm not talking about defending yourself, and you know it,\" she said firmly. \"Your word, Talmanes. Or I will not allow your agreement with Roedran.\" The only way to stop it was to betray it, but she would not leave a war in her wake, a war she had started by bringing Talmanes here.\n\nStaring at her as if for the first time, he finally bent his head. Strangely, that seemed more formal than his bow had. \"It will be as you say, Mother. Tell me, are you sure you are not ta'veren, too?\"\n\n\"I am the Amyrlin Seat,\" she replied. \"That is quite enough for anyone.\" She touched his arm again. \"The Light shine on you, Talmanes.\" His smile nearly touched his eyes this time.\n\nInevitably, despite their whispers, their talk had been noticed. Maybe because of their whispers. The girl who claimed to be Amyrlin, a rebel against the White Tower, in conversation with the leader often thousand Dragonsworn. Had she made Talmanes'scheme with Roedran harder, or easier? Was war in Murandy less likely, or more? Siuan and her bloody Law of Unintended Consequences! Fifty gazes followed her, then darted away, as she moved through the crowd warming her fingers on her cup. Well, most darted away. The Sitters\" faces were all ageless Aes Sedai serenity, but Lelaine might have been a brown-eyed crow watching a fish struggle in the shallows, while Romanda's slightly darker eyes could have drilled holes through iron.\n\nTrying to keep a watch on the sun outside, she made a slow circuit through the pavilion. The nobles were still importuning Sitters, but they moved from one to another as if seeking better answers, and she began to notice small things. Donel paused on his way from Janya to Moria, bowing low to Aemlyn, who acknowledged him with a gracious nod. Cian, turning away from Takima, curtsied deeply to Pelivar and received a slight bow in return. There were others, always a Murandian deferring to an Andoran who responded just as formally. The Andorans tried to ignore Bryne except for the odd scowl, but any number of Murandians sought him out, one by one and well away from everyone else, and from the directions their eyes went, it was plain they were discussing Pelivar, or Arathelle, or Aemlyn. Perhaps Talmanes had been right." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She received bows and curtsies, too, though none so deep as those given Arathelle and Pelivar and Aemlyn, much less the Sitters. Half a dozen women told her how thankful they were that matters had been resolved peacefully, though in truth, almost as many made noncommittal noises or shrugged uneasily when she expressed the same sentiment, as though they were uncertain it all would end peacefully. Her assurances that it would were met with a fervent'The Light send it so!\" or a resigned'If the Light wills.\" Four called her Mother, one without hesitating first. Three others said that she was quite lovely, that she had beautiful eyes, and that she had a graceful carriage, in that order; suitable compliments perhaps for Egwene's age but not her station.\n\nAt least she found one unalloyed pleasure. Segan was not alone in being intrigued by her announcement concerning the novice book. Plainly that was why most of the women spoke to her in the first place. After all, the other sisters might be in rebellion against the Tower, but she claimed to be the Amyrlin Seat. Their interest had to be strong to overcome that, though no one wanted to let it show. Arathelle made the inquiry with a frown that put more creases in her cheeks. Aemlyn shook her graying head at the answer. Blocky Cian asked, followed by a sharp-faced Andoran lady named Negara, then a pretty, big-eyed Murandian called Jennet, and others. None wanted to know for herself-several made that clear quickly, especially the younger women-but before long, every single noblewoman there had asked, and several servants as well, undercover of offering more spiced wine. One, a wiry woman named Nildra, had come from the Aes Sedai camp." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Collaborating with the writer, advance the narrative.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, magic\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: The Path of Daggers\nChapter: 27" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It isn't important,\" Rand told him irritably. They did look like swords.\n\nBashere went on anyway, graying eyebrows lowered, gravely serious. \"I expect thousands cheered her, called her the hope of Shiota, maybe even believed she was. In her time, she might have been as feared and respected as Artur Hawkwing was later, but now even the Brown sisters may not know her name. When you die, people begin to forget, who you were and what you did, or tried to do. Everybody dies eventually, and everybody is forgotten, eventually, but there's no bloody point dying before your time comes.\"\n\n\"I don't intend to,\" Rand said sharply. He knew where he was meant to die, if not when. He thought he did.\n\nThe corner of his eye caught motion, back down where bare stone gave way to brush and a few small trees. Fifty paces away, a man stepped into the open and raised a bow, smoothly drawing fletchings to cheek. Everything seemed to happen at once.\n\nSnarling, Rand hauled Tai'daishar around, watching the archer adjust to follow. He seized saidin and sweet life and filth poured into him together. His head spun. There were two archers. Bile rose in his throat as he fought wild, uncontrolled surges of the Power that tried to sear him to the bone and freeze his flesh solid. He could not control them; it was all he could do to stay alive. Desperately, he fought to clear his sight, to be able to see well enough to weave the flows he could barely form, with nausea flooding him as strongly as the Power. He thought he heard Bashere shout. Two archers loosed.\n\nRand should have died. At that range, a boy could have hit his target. Maybe being ta'veren saved him. As the archer let fly, a covey of gray-winged quail burst up almost at his feet uttering piercing whistles. Not enough to throw off an experienced man, and indeed, the fellow only flinched a hair. Rand felt the wind of the arrow's passage against his cheek." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Fireballs the size of fists suddenly struck the archer. He screamed as his arm spun away, hand still gripping the bow. Another took his left leg at the knee, and he fell shrieking.\n\nLeaning out of his saddle, Rand vomited onto the ground. His stomach tried to heave up every meal he had ever eaten. The Void and saidin left with a sickening wrench. It was nearly more than he could manage not to fall.\n\nWhen he could sit upright again, he took the white linen handkerchief Bashere silently offered, and wiped his mouth. The Saldaean frowned with concern, as well he might. Rand's stomach wanted to find more to spew out. He thought his face must be pale. He drew a deep breath. Losing saidin that way could kill you. But he could still sense the Source; at least saidin had not burned him out. At least he could see properly; there was only one Davram Bashere. But the illness seemed a little worse each time he seized saidin.\n\n\"Let's see if there's enough left of this fellow to talk,\" he told Bashere. There was not.\n\nRochaid was on his knees, calmly searching through the corpse's torn, bloodstained coat. Besides his missing arm and leg, the dead man had a blackened hole as big as his head all the way through his chest. It was Eagan Padros; his sightless eyes stared at the sky in surprise. Gedwyn ignored the body at his feet, studying Rand instead, as cold as Rochaid. Both men held saidin. Surprisingly, Lews Therin only moaned.\n\nIna clatter of hooves on stone, Flinn and Narishma came galloping up the rise, followed by nearly a hundred Saldaeans. As they came close, Rand could feel the Power in the grizzled old man and the younger, maybe as much as they could hold. They had both leaped up in strength since Dumai's Wells. That was the way of it with men; women seemed to gain smoothly, but men suddenly jumped. Flinn was stronger than Gedwyn or Rochaid either one, and Narishma not far behind. For the time being; there was noway to know how it would end. None came close to matching Rand, though. Not yet, anyway. There was noway to tell what time would bring. Not the dreads." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It seems it's well we decided to follow you, my Lord Dragon.\" Gedwyn's voice assumed concern, just shy of mocking. \"Are you suffering from a tender stomach this morning?\"\n\nRand just shook his head. He could not take his eyes from Padros' face. Why? Because he had conquered Illian? Because the man had been loyal to'Lord Brend\"?\n\nWith aloud exclamation, Rochaid ripped awash-leather pouch from Padros' coat pocket and upended it. Bright golden coins spilled onto the stony ground, bouncing and clinking. \"Thirty crowns,\" he growled. \"Tar Valon crowns. No doubt who paid him.\" He snatched a coin and tossed it up for Rand, but Rand made no effort to catch it, and it glanced off his arm.\n\n\"There's plenty of Tar Valon coin to be found,\" Bashere said calmly. \"Half the men in this valley have a few in their pockets. I do, myself\" Gedwyn and Rochaid swiveled to look at him. Bashere smiled behind his thick mustaches, or at least showed teeth, but some of the Saldaeans shifted uneasily in their saddles and fingered belt pouches.\n\nUp where the pass leveled off fora bit between steep mountain slopes, a slash of light rotated into a gateway, and atop-knotted Shienaran in a plain black coat trotted through, pulling his horse behind him. It appeared the first Seanchan had been found, and not too faraway if the man was back so quickly.\n\n\"Time to move,\" Rand told Bashere. The man nodded, but he did not stir. Instead, he studied the two Asha'man standing near Padros. They ignored him.\n\n\"What do we do with him?\" Gedwyn demanded, gesturing to the corpse. \"We ought to send him back to the witches, at least.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Leave him,\" Rand replied.\n\nAre you ready to kill now? Lews Therin asked. He did not sound insane at all.\n\nNot yet, Rand thought. Soon.\n\nDigging his heels into Tai'daishar's flanks, he galloped back down toward his army. Dashiva and Flinn followed closely, and Bashere and the hundred Saldaeans. They were all looking around as if they expected another attempt on his life. To the east, black clouds were building among the peaks, another cemaros storm. Soon.\n\nThe hilltop camp was well laid out, with a meandering stream close by for water and good lines of sight to the likeliest ways into the long mountain meadow. Assid Bakuun did not feel pride in the camp. During thirty years in the Ever Victorious Army, he had made hundreds of camps; he would as soon have felt pride in walking across a room without falling down. Nor did he feel pride in where he was. Thirty years serving the Empress, might she live forever, and while there had been the occasional rebellion by some mad upstart with eyes on the Crystal Throne, the bulk of those years had been spent preparing for this. For two generations, while the great ships were built to carry the Return, the Ever Victorious Army had trained and prepared. Bakuun certainly had been proud when he learned he was to be one of the Forerunners. Surely he could be forgiven dreams of retaking the lands stolen from Artur Hawkwing's rightful heirs, even wild dreams to completing this new Consolidation before the Corenne came. Not such a wild dream after all, as it turned out, but not at all the way he had imagined.\n\nA returning patrol of fifty Taraboner lancers rode up the hillside, red and green stripes painted across their solid breastplates, veils of mail hiding their thick mustaches. They rode well, and even fought well, when they had decent leaders. More than ten times as many were already among the cook fires, or down at the picket lines tending their mounts, and three patrols were still out. Bakuun had never expected to find himself with well over half his command descendants of thieves. And unashamed of it; they would look you straight in the eyes. The patrol's commander bowed low to him as their muddy-legged horses passed, but many of the others went on talking in their peculiar accents, speaking too fast for Bakuun to understand without listening hard. They had peculiar notions of discipline, too." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Shaking his head, Bakuun strode across to the sul'dam's large tent. Larger than his, of necessity. Four of them were sitting on stools outside in their dark blue dresses with the forked lightning on the skirts, enjoying the sun during this break in the storms. Those were rare enough, now. The gray-clad damane sat at their feet, with Nerith braiding her pale hair. Talking to her, as well, all of them joining in and laughing softly. The bracelet on the end of the silvery a'dam's leash lay on the ground. Bakuun grunted sourly. He had a favorite wolfhound, back home, and even talked to him sometimes, but he never expected Nip to carry on a conversation!\n\n\"Is she well?\" he asked Nerith, not for the first time. Or the tenth. \"Is everything well with her?\" The damane dropped her eyes and went silent.\n\n\"She is quite well, Captain Bakuun.\" A square-faced woman, Nerith put the proper degree of respect into her voice and not a whisker beyond. But she stroked the damane's head soothingly while she talked. \"Whatever the indisposition, it is gone, now. A small thing, in any case. Nothing to worry about.\" The damane was trembling.\n\nBakuun grunted again. Not far from the answer he had received before. Something had been wrong, though, back in Ebou Dar, and not just with this damane. The sul'dam had all been as tight-lipped as clams-and the Blood would not say anything, of course, not to the likes of him!-but he had heard too many whispers. They said the damane were all sick, or insane. Light, he had not seen a single one used around Ebou Dar once the city was secured, not even fora victory display of Sky Lights, and who had ever heard the like of that!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well, I hope she...\" he began, and cutoff as a raken appeared, sweeping through the eastern pass. Its great leathery wings beat powerfully for height, and right above the hill it suddenly tilted and cut a tight circle, one wingtip pointed almost straight down. A thin red streamer fell away under the weight of a lead ball.\n\nBakuun swallowed a curse. Fliers were always showing off, but if this pair injured one of his men delivering their scouting report, he would have their hides no matter who he had to face to get them. He would not have wanted to fight without fliers to scout, but they were coddled like some Blood's favorite pet.\n\nArrow-straight the streamer plummeted. The lead weight struck the ground and bounced on the crest, almost beside the tall thin message pole, which was too long to lower unless there was a message to send. Besides, when it was left down somebody was always stepping a horse on the thing and breaking the joins.\n\nBakuun strode straight to his tent, but his First Lieutenant was already waiting with the mud-stained streamer and the message tube. Tiras was a bony man ahead taller than him, with an unfortunate scrap of beard clinging to the point of his chin.\n\nThe report rolled up in the thin metal tube, on a slip of paper Bakuun could almost see through, was written simply. He had never been forced to ride on raken or to'raken-the Light be thanked, and the Empress, might she live forever, be praised!-but he doubted it was easy to handle a pen in a saddle strapped to the back of a flying lizard. What it said made him flip open the lid of his small camp desk and write hurriedly.\n\n\"There's a force not ten miles east of here,\" he told Tiras. \"Five or six times our number.\" Fliers exaggerated sometimes, but not often by much. How had that many penetrated these mountains so far without being spotted before? He had seen the coast to the east, and he wanted his burial prayers paid for before he tried a landing there. Burn his eyes, the fliers boasted they would see a flea move anywhere in the range. \"No reason to think they know we're here, but I'd not mind a few reinforcements.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Tiras laughed. \"We'll give them a brush of the damane, and that will be that if they outnumber us by twenty times.\" His only real fault was a touch of overconfidence. A good soldier, though.\n\n\"And if they have a few... Aes Sedai?\" Bakuun said quietly, hardly stumbling over the name, as he stuffed the flier's report back into the tube with his own brief message. He had not really believed anyone could let those... women run free.\n\nTiras' face showed that he remembered the tales about an Aes Sedai weapon. The red streamer floated behind him as he ran with the message tube.\n\nSoon enough tube and streamer were attached to the tip of the message pole, a tiny breeze stirring the long red strip fifteen paces above the hill crest. The raken soared toward it along the valley, outstretched wings still as death. Abruptly one of the fliers swung down from the saddle and hung-upside down!-below the raken's trailing claws. It made Bakuun's stomach hurt to watch. But her hand closed on the streamer, the pole flexed, then vibrated back upright as the message tube pulled free of the clip, and she scrambled backup as the creature climbed in slow circles.\n\nBakuun thankfully put raken and fliers out of his mind as he surveyed the valley. Broad and long, nearly flat except for this hill, and surrounded by steep wooded slopes; only a goat could enter, except by the passes in his sight. With the damane, he could cut anybody to pieces before they managed to try attacking across that muddy meadow. He had passed word along, though; if the enemy came straight on, they would arrive before any possible reinforcements by three days at best. How had they come this far unseen?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He had missed the last battles of the Consolidation by two hundred years, but some of those rebellions had not been small. Two years fighting on Marendalar, thirty thousand dead, and fifty times that shipped back to the mainland as property. Taking notice of the strange kept a soldier alive. Ordering the camp struck and all signs of it cleared, he began moving his command to the forested slopes. Dark clouds were massing in the east, another of those cursed storms coming." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "CHAPTER 23\n\nFog of War, Storm of Battle\n\nUprooted trees and shattered ones, a fair number burning from end to end, littered the slope of the mountain fora good five hundred paces. Bodies, too, men broken or ripped apart when saidin harrowed the mountainside. Most wore steel veils across their faces, and breastplates painted in horizontal stripes. No women, thank the Light. The injured horses had been put down, another thing to be thankful for. It was incredible how loudly a horse could scream.\n\nDo you think the dead are silent? Lews Therin's laugh was rasping. Do you? His voice turned to pained rage. The dead howl at me!\n\nAt me, too, Rand thought sadly. I can't afford to listen, but how do you shut them up? Lews Therin began weeping for his lost Ilyena.\n\n\"A great victory,\" Weiramon intoned behind Rand, then muttered, \"But small honor in it. The old ways are best.\" Mud liberally decorated Rand's coat, yet surprisingly, Weiramon appeared as pristine as he had back on the Silver Road. His helmet and armor shone. How had he managed? The Taraboners charged, at the end, lances and courage against the One Power, and Weiramon had led his own charge to break them. Without orders, and followed by every Tairen save the Defenders, even a half-drunk Torean, surprisingly. By Semaradrid and Gregorin Panar, too, with most of the Cairhienin and Illianers. Standing still had been hard by that time, and every man wanted to come to grips with something he actually could come to grips with. The Asha'man could have done it faster. If somewhat more messily." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Rand had taken no part in the fighting, except to sit his saddle where men could see him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He had been afraid to seize the Power. He did not dare display weakness for them to catch. Not a scrap. Lews Therin gibbered with horror at the very idea.\n\nEqually surprising as Weiramon's unsullied coat, Anaiyella rode with him, and for once not simpering. Her face was pinched and disapproving. Strangely, it did not spoil her looks nearly so much as her unctuous smiles did. She had not joined the charge herself, of course, anymore than Ailil, but Anaiyella's Master of the Horse had, and the man was most definitely dead, with a Taraboner lance through his chest. She did not like that one bit. But why did she accompany Weiramon? Just Tairens flocking together? Maybe. She had been with Sunamon, the last Rand had seen.\n\nBashere walked his bay up the slope, picking his way around the dead while seeming to pay them no more mind than he did a splintered tree trunk or a burning stump. His helmet hung from his saddle, and his gauntlets were stuffed behind his sword belt. He was mud all down his right side, and his horse as well.\n\n\"Aracome's gone,\" he said. \"Flinn tried Healing him, but I don't think Aracome wanted to live like that. There's near fifty dead so far, and some of the rest might not survive.\" Anaiyella paled. Rand had seen her near Aracome, emptying herself. Dead commoners did not affect her so much.\n\nRand felt a moment of pity. Not for her, and not very much for Aracome. For Min, though she was safely back in Cairhien. Min had foretold Aracome's death from one of her viewings, and Gueyam and Maraconn's, too. Whatever she had seen, Rand hoped it had not been anywhere near the reality." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Most of the Soldiers were off scouting again, but down in the broad meadow, gateways woven by Gedwyn's Dedicated were spilling out the supply carts and the remounts. The men coming with them gaped as soon as they were clear enough to see. The muddy ground was not so well plowed as the mountainside, yet blackened furrows, two paces wide and fifty long, carved through the brown grass, and gaping holes a horse might not be able to leap. They had not found the damane so far. Rand thought there had to be only one; more would have done considerably greater damage under the circumstances.\n\nMen moved around a number of small fires where water boiled for tea, among other things. For once, Tairens, Cairhienin and Illianers mingled. Not just the commoners. Semaradrid was sharing his saddle-flask with Gueyam, who wearily rubbed a handover his bald head. Maraconn and Kiril Drapaneos, a stork of a man whose square-cut beard looked odd on his narrow face, were squatting on their heels near one of the fires. Playing cards, by the look of it! Torean had a whole circle of laughing Cairhienin lordlings around him, though they might have been less amused by his jokes than by the way he swayed and rubbed at his potato nose. The Legionmen kept apart, but they had taken in the'volunteers\" who had followed Padros to the Banner of Light. That lot seemed more eager than anyone since learning how Padros died. Blue-coated Legionmen were showing them how to change direction without falling apart like a gaggle of geese.\n\nFlinn was among the wounded with Adley and Morr and Hopwil. Narishma could Heal little more than minor cuts, no better than Rand, and Dashiva not even that. Gedwyn and Rochaid stood talking well apart from anyone else, holding their horses by the reins atop the hill in the middle of the valley. The hill where they had expected to catch the Seanchan by surprise when they rushed out of gateways surrounding it. Near fifty dead, and more to come, but it would have been above two hundred without Flinn and the rest who could manage Healing to one degree or another. Gedwyn and Rochaid had not wanted to dirty their hands and grimaced when Rand drove them to it. One of the dead was a Soldier, and another Soldier, around-faced Cairhienin, sat slumped beside afire with a dazed look that Rand hoped came from being tossed through the air by the ground erupting almost under his feet." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Down thereon the furrowed flats, Ailil was conferring with her Lance-captain, a pale little man called Denharad." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Their horses stood nearly touching, and occasionally they looked up the mountain toward Rand. What were they scheming?\n\n\"We'll do better next time,\" Bashere murmured. He ran his gaze around the valley, then shook his head. \"The worst mistake is to make the same one twice, and we won't.\"\n\nWeiramon heard him and repeated the same thing, but using twenty times the words, and flowery enough fora garden in spring. Without admitting that there had been any mistakes, certainly not on his part. He avoided Rand's mistakes with equal adroitness.\n\nRand nodded, his mouth tight. Next time they would do better. They had to, unless he wanted to leave half his men buried in these mountains. Right then, he was wondering what to do with the prisoners.\n\nMost of those who escaped death on the mountainside had managed to withdraw through the trees that remained standing. With amazingly good order considering, Bashere claimed, yet they were unlikely to be much threat now. Not unless they had the damane with them. But a hundred or so men sat huddled on the ground, stripped of weapons and armor, under the watchful eyes of two dozen mounted Companions and Defenders. Taraboners, for the most part, they had not fought like men driven to it by conquerors. A fair number held their heads up, and jeered at their guards. Gedwyn had wanted to kill them, after putting them to the question. Weiramon did not care whether they had their throats slit, but he considered torture a waste of time. None would know anything useful, he maintained; there was not a one nobly born.\n\nRand glanced at Bashere. Weiramon was still going on sonorously. \"... sweep these mountains clean for you, my Lord Dragon. We'll trample them beneath our hooves, and....\" Anaiyella was nodding grim approval." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Six up, and half a dozen down,\" Bashere said softly." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He scraped mud from one of his thick mustaches with a fingernail. \"Or as some of my tenants say, what you gain on the swings, you lose on the roundabouts.\" What in the Light was a roundabout? A great help that was!\n\nAnd then one of Bashere's patrols made matters worse.\n\nThe six men came prodding a prisoner along the slope ahead of their horses with the butts of their lances. She was a black-haired woman in a torn and dirty dark blue dress, with red panels on the breast and skirts bearing forked lightning. Her face was dirty, too, and tear-streaked. She stumbled and half-fell, but the prodding was more gesture than actual touching. She glared scornfully at her captors, even spitting once. She sneered at Rand, too.\n\n\"Did you hurt her?\" he demanded. A strange question, perhaps, about an enemy after what had happened in this valley. About a sul'dam. But it popped out.\n\n\"Not us, my Lord Dragon,\" the gruff-faced patrol leader said. \"We found her like this.\" Scratching his chin through a black flowing beard, he eyed Bashere as if for support. \"She claims we killed her Gille. A pet dog, or cat, or some such, the way she carries on. Her name's Nerith. We got that much out of her.\" The woman turned and snarled at him again.\n\nRand sighed. Not a pet dog. No! That name did not belong on the list! But he could hear the litany of names reciting itself in his head, and'Gille the damane\" was there. Lews Therin moaned for his Ilyena. Her name also was on the list. Rand thought it had aright." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"This is a Seanchan Aes Sedai?\" Anaiyella asked suddenly, leaning over the pommel of her saddle to peer hard at Nerith. Nerith spat at her, as well, eyes widening in outrage. Rand explained the little he knew of sul'dam, that they controlled women who could channel with the aide of a leash-and-collar ter'angreal but could not themselves channel, and to his surprise, the dainty simpering High Lady said coldly, \"If my Lord Dragon feels constrained, I'll hang her for him.\" Nerith spat at her again! Contemptuously, this time. No shortfall of courage there.\n\n\"No!\" Rand growled. Light, the things people would do to get on his good side! Or maybe Anaiyella had been closer to her Master of the Horse than was considered proper. The man had been stout and balding-and a commoner; that counted heavily with Tairens-but women did have strange tastes in men. He knew that fora pure fact.\n\n\"As soon as we're ready to move again,\" he told Bashere, \"turn the men down there loose.\" Taking prisoners along when he launched his next attack was out of the question, and leaving a hundred men-a hundred now; more later, for sure-leaving them to follow with the supply carts risked fifty kinds of mischief. They could cause no trouble left behind. Even the fellows who had gotten away on horseback could not carry a warning faster than he could Travel.\n\nBashere shrugged faintly; he thought it might be so, but then again there was always the odd chance. Strange things happened even without a ta'veren around.\n\nWeiramon and Anaiyella opened their mouths almost together, faces set in protest, but Rand pressed on. \"I've spoken, and it's done! We'll keep the woman, though. And anymore women we capture.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Burn my soul,\" Weiramon exclaimed." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Why?\" The man appeared dumbfounded, and for that matter, Bashere gave a startled jerk of his head. Anaiyella's mouth twisted in contempt before she managed to turn it to a simpering smile for the Lord Dragon. Plainly, she thought him too soft to send a woman off with the others. They would have hard walking in this terrain, not to mention short rations. And the weather was not weather to turn a woman out in.\n\n\"I have enough Aes Sedai against me without sending sul'dam back to their trade,\" he told them. The Light knew that was true! They nodded, if Weiramon was slow about it; Bashere looked relieved, Anaiyella disappointed. But what to do with the woman, and anymore he captured? He did not intend to turn the Black Tower into a prison. The Aiel could hold them. Except that the Wise Ones might slit their throats the moment his back was turned. What about the sisters that Mat was taking to Caemlyn with Elayne, though? \"When this is done, I'll hand her over to some Aes Sedai I choose.\" They might see it as a gesture of goodwill, a little honey to sweeten their having to accept his protection.\n\nNo sooner were the words out of his mouth than Nerith's face went dead white and she screamed at the top of her lungs. Howling without cease, she flung herself down the slope, scrabbling over downed trees, falling and scrambling backup.\n\n\"Bloody-! Catch her!\" Rand snapped, and the Saldaean patrol leaped after the woman, jumping their mounts across the tree-littered slope careless of broken legs and necks. Still wailing, she dodged and darted among the horses with even less care." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In the mouth of the easternmost pass, a gateway opened in a flash of silver light. A black-coated Soldier pulled his horse through, jumped to the saddle as the gateway winked out and put his mount to a gallop, toward the hilltop where Gedwyn and Rochaid waited. Rand watched impassively. In his head, Lews Therin snarled of killing, killing all the Asha'man before it was too late.\n\nBy the time the three of them started up the slope toward Rand, four of the Saldaeans had Nerith down on the ground, binding her hand and foot. It took four, the way she thrashed and bit at them, and an amused Bashere was offering odds on whether she might not overcome them instead. Anaiyella muttered something about cracking the woman's head. Did she mean cracking it open? Rand frowned at her.\n\nThe Soldier between Gedwyn and Rochaid glanced at Nerith uneasily as they rode past. Rand vaguely remembered seeing him at the Black Tower, the day he first handed out the silver Swords, and gave Taim the very first Dragon pin. He was a young man, Varil Nensen by name, still wearing a transparent veil to cover his thick mustaches. He had not hesitated when he found himself facing his countrymen, though. Allegiance was to the Black Tower and the Dragon Reborn, now, so Taim always said. The second part of that always sounded an afterthought.\n\n\"You may have the honor of making your report to the Dragon Reborn, Soldier Nensen,\" Gedwyn said. Wryly.\n\nNensen sat up straight in his saddle. \"My Lord Dragon!\" he barked, slapping fist to chest. \"There's more of them about thirty miles west, my Lord Dragon.\" Thirty miles was as far as Rand had told the scouts to go before returning. What good if one Soldier found Seanchan while the rest kept moving ever farther west? \"Maybe half what were here,\" Nensen went on. And....\"His dark eyes flickered toward Nerith again. She was tied, now, the Saldaeans struggling to get her over a horse.\" And I saw no sign of women, my Lord Dragon.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Bashere squinted at the sky." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dark clouds lay in a blanket from mountain peak to mountain peak, but the sun should still be high. \"Time to feed the men before the rest return,\" he said, nodding in satisfaction. Nerith had managed to sink her teeth into a Saldaean's wrist and was hanging on like a badger.\n\n\"Feed them quick,\" Rand said irritably. Would every sul'dam he captured be as difficult? Very likely. Light, what if they took a damane? \"I don't want to spend all winter in these mountains.\" Gille the damane. He could not erase a name once it went onto that list.\n\nThe dead are never silent, Lews Therin whispered. The dead never sleep.\n\nRand rode down toward the fires. He did not feel like eating.\n\nFrom the point of a thrusting shoulder of stone, Furyk Karede carefully studied the forested mountains rising all around him, sharp peaks like dark fangs. His horse, a tall dappled gelding, stiffened his ears as though catching a sound he had missed, but otherwise the animal was still. Every so often, Karede had to stop and wipe the lens of his looking glass. Alight rain fell from a gray morning sky. His helmet's two black plumes were bent over instead of standing straight, and water ran down his back. Alight rain compared to yesterday, anyway, and probably compared to tomorrow. Or this afternoon, perhaps. Thunder rumbled ominously in the south. Karede's concern had nothing to do with weather, though.\n\nBelow him, the last of twenty-three hundred men snaked through the winding passes, men gathered from four outposts. Well-mounted, reasonably well-led, yet a bare two hundred were Seanchan, and just two besides himself wore the red-and-green of the Guard. Most of the remainder were Taraboners-he knew their mettle-but a good third were Amadicians and Altarans, too new to their oaths for any to be sure how they would stand up. Some Altarans and Amadicians had switched allegiance two or three times already. Tried to, anyway. People this side of the Aryth Ocean had no shame. A dozen sul'dam rode near the front of the column, and he wished all twelve had leashed damanes walking by their horses instead of only two." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Fifty paces farther on, the ten men of the spearhead were watching the slopes above them, though not as carefully as they should have. Too many men who rode spearhead relied on the forward scouts to find any dangers. Karede made a note to speak to them personally. They would do their duties properly after that, or he would send them to the labor levies.\n\nA raken appeared in the east ahead, skimming low over the treetops, twisting and turning to follow the curves of the land like a man running his hand down a woman's back. Peculiar. Morat'raken, fliers, always liked to soar high unless the sky was actually full of lightning. Karede lowered the looking glass to watch.\n\n\"Maybe we'll finally get another scouting report,\" Jadranka said. To the other officers waiting behind Karede, not to him. Three of the ten matched Karede's rank, yet few except the Blood disturbed a man in the blood-red and nearly black green of the Deathwatch Guard. Not that many among the Blood did.\n\nAccording to the tales he had heard as a child, one of his ancestors, a noble, had followed Luthair Paendrag to Seanchan at Artur Hawkwing's command, but two hundred years later, with only the north secure, another ancestor tried to carve out a kingdom of his own and ended sold from the block instead. Perhaps it was so; many da'covale claimed noble ancestors. Among themselves, at least; few of the Blood found such chatter amusing. In any case, Karede had felt lucky when the Choosers picked him out, a sturdy boy not yet old enough to be assigned duties, and he still felt pride in the ravens tattooed on his shoulders. Many Deathwatch Guards went without coat or shirt whenever possible, to display those. The humans, anyway. Ogier Gardeners were not marked or owned, but that was between them and the Empress." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Karede was da'covale and proud of it, like every man of the Guard, the property of the Crystal Throne, body and soul. He fought where the Empress pointed, and would die the day she said die. To the Empress alone did the Guard answer, and where they appeared, they appeared as her hand, a visible reminder of her. No wonder that some among the Blood could become uneasy watching a detachment of Guardsmen pass. Afar better life than mucking out a Lord's stables or serving kaf to a Lady. But he cursed the luck that had sent him into these mountains to inspect the outposts.\n\nThe raken darted on westward, the two fliers crouched low in their saddle. There was no scouting report, no message for him. Furyk knew it was his imagination, but the creature's long, outstretched neck somehow looked... anxious. Had he been anyone else, he might have been anxious, too. There had been few messages for him since his orders three days ago to assume command and move east. Each message had thickened the fog more than cleared it.\n\nThe locals, these Altarans, had moved into the mountains in force, it seemed, but how? The roads along the northern border of this range were patrolled and watched nearly to the border of Illian, by fliers and morat'torm as well as horse-mounted parties. What could have made the Altarans decide to show so many teeth? To stand together? A man might find himself in a duel fora look-though they had begun to learn challenging a Guardsman was just a slower way of cutting your own throat-but he had seen nobles of this so-called nation trying to sell each other and their Queen for the mere suggestion that their own lands might be protected and perhaps those of their neighbor added to them.\n\nNadoc, a big man with a deceptively mild face, twisted in his saddle to watch the raken. \"I don't like marching blind,\" he muttered. \"Not when the Altarans have managed to put forty thousand men up here. Forty, at least.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jadranka snorted so hard that his tall white gelding shifted. Jadranka was the senior of the three captains behind Karede, having served as long as Karede himself. A short thin man with a prominent nose and such airs you might have thought him of the Blood. That horse would standout at a mile. \"Forty thousand or a hundred, Nadoc, they're scattered from hereto the end of the range, too far apart to support one another. Stab my eyes, likely half are dead already. They must be tangling with outposts everywhere. That's why we aren't getting reports. We're just expected to sweep up the remnants.\"\n\nKarede swallowed a sigh. He had hoped Jadranka was not a fool atop his airs. Praise of victors spread quickly, whether they were an army or half a Banner. It was the rare defeats that were swallowed in silence and forgotten. So much silence was... ominous.\n\n\"That last report didn't sound like remnants tome,\" Nadoc persisted. He was no fool. \"There are five thousand men not fifty miles ahead of us, and I doubt we'll take them with brooms.\"\n\nJadranka snorted again. \"We'll crush them, with swords or brooms. The Light burn my eyes, I can hardly wait fora decent engagement. I told the scouts to press on until they found them. I won't have them slipping away from us.\"\n\n\"You did what?\" Karede said softly.\n\nSoft or not, his words jerked every eye toward him. Though Nadoc and a few of the others had to struggle to stop gaping at Jadranka. Scouts told to press ahead, scouts told what to look for. What had gone unseen for those orders?\n\nBefore anyone could open his mouth shouts rose from the men in the pass, screams and the shrieks of horses." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Karede pressed the leather tube of the looking glass to his eye. Along the pass ahead of him, men and horses were dying under a hail of what he thought must be crossbow bolts, the way they hammered through steel breastplates, exploded through chests protected by mail. Hundreds were down already, hundreds more sagging wounded in their saddles or afoot and running from horses thrashing on the ground. Too many were running. Even as he looked, men still mounted whirled their horses to try fleeing backup the pass. Wherein the Light were the sul'dam? He could not find them. He had faced rebels who had sul'dam and damane, and they always had to be killed as fast as possible. Maybe the locals had learned that.\n\nSuddenly, shockingly, the ground began to erupt in roaring fountains all along the writhing snake of his command, fountains that flung men and horses into the air as easily as dirt and stones. Lightning flashed out of the sky, blue-white bolts shattering earth and men alike. Other men simply exploded, ripped to shreds by nothing he could see. Did the locals have damane of their own? No, it would be those Aes Sedai.\n\n\"What are we going to do?\" Nadoc said. He sounded shaken. As well he might.\n\n\"Do you think to abandon your men?\" Jadranka snarled. \"We rally them and attack, you-!\" He cutoff, gurgling, as Karede's swordpoint went neatly into his throat. There were times fools could be tolerated, and times not. As the man toppled from his saddle, Karede deftly wiped his blade on the gelding's white mane before the animal bolted. There were times fora little show, too." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We rally what can be rallied, Nadoc,\" he said as if Jadranka had never spoken. As if he had never been. \"We save what can be saved, and fallback.\"\n\nTurning to ride down into the pass where lightnings flashed and thunders roared, he ordered Anghar, a steady-eyed young man with a fast horse, to ride east and report what had transpired here. Perhaps a flier would see and perhaps not, though Karede suspected he knew why they flew low, now. He suspected the High Lady Suroth and the generals in Ebou Dar already knew what was occurring up here, too. Was today the day he died for the Empress? He dug his heels into his horse's flanks.\n\nFrom the flat, thinly treed ridge, Rand peered westward over the forest before him. With the Power in him-life, so sweet; vileness, oh, so vile-he could see individual leaves, but it was not enough. Tai'daishar stamped a hoof. The jagged peaks behind, to either side, and all around overtopped the ridge by a mile or more, but the ridge stood well above the treetops below, a rolling wooded valley over a league in length and nearly as wide. All was still down there. As quiet as the Void he floated in. Quiet for the moment, anyway. Here and there plumes of smoke rose from where two or three trees in a clump burned like torches. Only the general wet stopped them turning the valley into a conflagration.\n\nFlinn and Dashiva were the only Asha'man still with him. All the rest were down in the valley. The pair stood a little way from him at the edge of the trees, holding their horses by the reins and staring at the forest below. Well, Flinn stared, as intently as Rand himself. Dashiva glanced occasionally, twisting his mouth, sometimes muttering to himself in away that made Flinn shift his feet and eye him sideways. The Power filled both men, nearly to overflowing, but fora change, Lews Therin said nothing. The man seemed increasingly to have gone back into hiding over the last few days." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In the sky there was actually sunlight, and the scattered clouds were gray. It was five days since Rand had brought his small army to Altara, five days since he had seen his first Seanchan dead. He had seen quite a few since. Thought slid across the surface of the Void. He could feel the heron branded into his palm pressing against the Dragon Scepter through his glove. Silent. There were none of the flying creatures to be seen. Three of those had died, slashed from the sky by lightning, before their riders learned to stay clear. Bashere was fascinated by the creatures. Quiet.\n\n\"Perhaps it is finished, my Lord Dragon.\" Ailil's voice was calm and cool, but she patted her mare's neck, though the animal did not need soothing. She eyed Flinn and Dashiva sideways and straightened, unwilling to reveal a shred of unease in front of them.\n\nRand found himself humming and stopped abruptly. That was Lews Therin's habit, looking at a pretty woman, not his. Not his! Light, if he started taking on the fellow's mannerisms, and when he was not there, at that...!\n\nAbruptly, hollow thunder boomed up the valley. Fire fountained out of the trees a good two miles away or more, then again, and again, again. Lightning streaked down into the forest not far from where the tall flames had bloomed, single slashes like jagged blue-white lances. A flurry of lightning bolts and fire, and all was still again. No trees had caught fire, this time.\n\nSome of that had been saidin. Some of it.\n\nShouts rose, dim and distant, from another part of the valley, he thought. Too far for even his saidin-enhanced ears to hear the crash of steel. Despite everything, not all of the fighting was being done by Asha'man and Dedicated and Soldiers." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Anaiyella let out along breath she must have been holding since the exchange with the Power began. Men fighting with steel did not disturb her. Then she patted her mount's neck. The gelding had only flickered an ear. Rand had noticed that about women. Quite often, when a woman was agitated, she tried to soothe others whether they required soothing or not. A horse would do. Where was Lews Therin?\n\nIrritably he leaned forward to study the forest canopy again. A good many of those trees were evergreens-oak and pine and leatherleaf-and despite the late drought, they made an effective screen, even to his intensified vision. As if idly, he touched the narrow bundle under his stirrup leather. He could take a hand. And strike blindly. He could ride down into the woods. And be able to see ten paces at most. Down there, he would belittle more effective than one of the Soldiers.\n\nA gateway opened among the trees a little way along the ridge, silvery slash widening into a hole that showed different trees and thick winter brown underbrush. A copper-skinned Soldier with a thin mustache on his upper lip and a small pearl in his ear exited afoot and let the gateway vanish. He was shoving a sul'dam ahead of him with her wrists tied behind her, a handsome woman except for the purple knot on the side of her head. That seemed to go along with her scowl, though, as well as it did with her rumpled, leaf-stained dress. She sneered over her shoulder at the Soldier while he pushed her along the ridgetop to Rand, and then she sneered up at Rand.\n\nThe Soldier stiffened, saluting smartly. \"Soldier Arlen Nalaam, my Lord Dragon,\" he barked, staring straight at Rand's saddle. \"My Lord Dragon's orders were to bring any women captured to him.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rand nodded. It was only to give him the appearance of doing something, inspecting prisoners to be sure they were what any idiot could see they were. \"Take her back to the carts, Soldier Nalaam, then return to the fighting.\" He almost ground his teeth saying that. Return to the fighting. While Rand al'Thor, Dragon. Reborn and King of Illian, sat his horse and watched treetops!\n\nNalaam saluted again before pushing away the woman ahead of him, but he was not slow about it. She kept peering over her shoulder again, yet not at the Soldier this time. At Rand. With wide-eyed, openmouthed astonishment. For some reason, Nalaam did not pull her to a halt until he reached the spot where he had come out. All that was necessary was to go far enough to avoid injuring the horses.\n\n\"What are you doing?\" Rand demanded as saidin filled the man.\n\nNalaam half turned back to him, hesitating briefly. \"It seems easier, here, if I use a place I've already made a gateway, my Lord Dragon. Saidin... Saidin feels... strange... tome here.\" His prisoner turned to frown at him.\n\nAfter a moment, Rand gestured him to go ahead. Flinn pretended to be interested in his horse's saddle girth, but the balding old man smiled faintly. Smugly. Dashiva... giggled. Flinn had been the first to mention an odd feel to saidin in this valley. Of course, Narishma and Hopwil had heard him, and Morr added his tales of the'strangeness\" around Ebou Dar. Small wonder everyone was claiming to feel something now, though not a one could say what. Saidin just felt... peculiar. Light, with the taint thick on the male half of the Source, what else would it feel? Rand hoped they were not all coming down with his new sickness." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nalaam's gateway opened, and vanished behind him and his prisoner. Rand let himself really feel saidin. Life and corruption commingled; ice to make winter's heart seem warm, and fire to make a forge's flames cold; death, waiting for him to slip. Wanting him to slip. It did not feel any different. Did it? He scowled at where Nalaam had disappeared. Nalaam and the woman.\n\nShe was the fourth sul'dam taken this afternoon. That made twenty-three sul'dam prisoners with the carts. And two damane, each still in her silvery leash and collar, carried on separate carts; in those collars, they could not walk three steps before becoming more violently sick than Rand did seizing the Source. He was not sure the sisters with Mat would be pleased to receive them after all. The first damane, three days before, he had not thought of as a prisoner. A slender woman with pale yellow hair and big blue eyes, she was a Seanchan captive to be freed. He thought. But when he forced a sul'dam to remove the woman's collar, her a'dam, she screamed for the sul'dam to help her and immediately began lashing outwith the Power. She had even offered her neck for the sul'dam to replace the thing! Nine Defenders and a Soldier died before she could be shielded. Gedwyn would have killed heron the spot had Rand not stopped it. The Defenders, nearly as uncomfortable around women who could channel as others were around men who could-the Defenders still wanted her dead. They had taken casualties in the fighting these past days, but having men killed by a prisoner seemed to offend them.\n\nThere had been more casualties than Rand had expected. Thirty-one Defenders dead, and forty-six Companions. More than two hundred among the Legionmen and the noble's armsmen. Seven Soldiers and a Dedicated, men Rand had never met before they answered his summons to Illian. Too many, considering that all except the gravest injury could be Healed, if a man could only hang on until there was time. But he was driving the Seanchan west. Driving them hard." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "More shouting rose somewhere far off down in the valley. Fire blossomed a good three miles to the west, and lightning struck, toppling trees. Trees and stone erupted from a mountainside farther on, strange fountains marching along the slope. The roaring booms swallowed shouts. The Seanchan were retreating.\n\n\"Get down there,\" Rand told Flinn and Dashiva. \"Both of you. Find Gedwyn and tell him I said push! Push!\"\n\nDashiva grimaced at the forest below, then began awkwardly tugging his horse along the ridge. The man was ungainly with horses, riding or leading. He nearly tripped over his sword!\n\nFlinn looked up at Rand worriedly. \"You mean to stay here alone, my Lord Dragon?\"\n\n\"I'm hardly alone,\" Rand said dryly, glancing at Ailil and Anaiyella. They had ridden back to their armsmen, almost two hundred lancers waiting just short of where the ridge began to slope down to the east. At their head, Denharad frowned through the face-bars of his helmet. He had command of both lots, now, and if his concern was for Ailil and Anaiyella, his fellows still made a show fit to keep away most attackers. Besides, Weiramon had the northern end of this ridge secured so a fly could not pass, he claimed, and Bashere held the south. Without boasting; Bashere just erected a wall of lances without talking about it. And the Seanchan were retreating. \"And I'm hardly helpless, anyway, Flinn.\"\n\nFlinn actually looked doubtful and scratched his fringe of white hair before saluting and leading his horse toward where Dashiva's gateway was already winking out. Limping along, Flinn shook his head, muttering to himself fit for Dashiva. Rand wanted to snarl. He could not go mad, and neither could they." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Flinn's gateway vanished, and Rand returned to his study of the treetops. It was quiet again. Time stretched in stillness. This notion of taking the outposts in the mountains had been a bad one; he was willing to admit that, now. In this terrain, you could behalf a mile from an army without knowing. In those tangled woods down there, you could be ten feet from them without knowing! He needed to face the Seanchan on better ground. He needed....\n\nAbruptly he was fighting saidin, fighting wild surges that tried to ream out his skull. The Void was vanishing, melting beneath the onslaught. Frantic, dazed, he released the Source before it could kill him. Nausea twisted his middle. Double vision showed him two Crowns of Swords. Lying on the thick mulch of dead leaves in front of his face! He was on the ground! He could not seem to breathe properly, and struggled to suck in air. There was a chip broken off one of the crown's golden laurel leaves, and bloodstained several of the tiny golden swordpoints. A knot of hot pain in his side told him those never-healing wounds had broken open. He tried to push himself up, and cried out. In stunned amazement he stared at the dark fletchings of an arrow stuck through his right arm. With a groan he collapsed. Something ran down his face. Something dripped in front of his eye. Blood.\n\nVaguely he became aware of ululating cries. Horsemen appeared among the trees to the north, galloping along the ridge, some with lowered lances, some working short bows as fast as they could nock and draw. Horsemen in blue-and-yellow armor of overlapping plates, and helmets like huge insects'heads. Seanchan, several hundred of them it seemed. From the north. So much for Weiramon's fly." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rand struggled to reach the Source. Too late to worry about sicking up, or falling on his face. Another time, he might have laughed at that. He struggled.... It was like fumbling fora pin in the dark with numbed fingers.\n\nTime to die, Lews Therin whispered. Rand had always known Lews Therin would be thereat the end.\n\nNot fifty paces from Rand, screaming Tairens and Cairhien plowed into the Seanchan.\n\n\"Fight, you dogs!\" Anaiyella shrieked, swinging down from her saddle beside him. \"Fight!\" The willow lady in her silks and laces hurled a string of curses that would have made a wagon driver's tongue go dry.\n\nAnaiyella stood holding her mount's reins, glaring from the mill of men and steel to Rand. It was Ailil who turned him onto his back. Kneeling there, she looked down at him with an unreadable expression in her big dark eyes. He could not seem to move. He felt drained. He was not sure he could blink. Screams and the clash of steel rang in his ears.\n\n\"If he dies on our hands, Bashere will hang both of us!\" Anaiyella certainly was not simpering now. \"If those black-coated monsters get hold of us...!\" She shuddered, and bent closer to Ailil, gesturing with a belt knife he had not noticed in her hand before. A ruby sparkled blood-red on the hilt. \"Your Lance-captain could break off enough men to get us away. We could be miles away before he's found, and back to our estates by the time-\"\n\n\"I think he can hear us,\" Ailil broke in calmly. Her red-gloved hands moved at her waist. Sheathing a belt knife? Or drawing one? \"If he dies here-\" She cutoff as sharply as the other woman had, and her head jerked around." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Hooves thundered past Rand on either side in thick streams. Galloping north, toward the Seanchan. Sword in hand, Bashere barely reined in before leaping from his saddle. Gregorin Panar dismounted more slowly, but he waved his sword at the men flooding by. \"Strike home for King and Illian!\" he shouted. \"Strike home! The Lord of the Morning! The Lord of the Morning!\" The crash of steel rose higher. And the screaming.\n\n\"It would be like this at the last of it,\" Bashere growled, favoring the two women with suspicious glares. He wasted only an instant, though, before raising his voice above the din of battle. \"Morr! Burn your Asha'man hide! Here, now!\" He did not shout that the Lord Dragon was down, thank the Light.\n\nWith an effort, Rand turned his head perhaps a hand. Enough to see Illianers and Saldaeans driving on north. The Seanchan must have given way.\n\n\"Morr!\" The name roared through Bashere's mustaches, and Morr himself dropped from a galloping horse nearly on top of Anaiyella. She looked disgruntled at the lack of an apology as the man knelt beside Rand, scrubbing dark hair out of his face. She moved back quickly enough when she realized he intended to channel, though, practically bounding away. Ailil was much smoother about rising, but not noticeably slower in stepping clear. And she slipped a silver-handled belt knife back into its sheath at her waist.\n\nHealing was a simple matter, if not exactly comfortable. The fletchings were broken off and the arrow drawn the rest of the way through with a sharp jerk that brought a gasp to Rand's lips, but that was just to clear the way. Dirt and lightly embedded fragments would fall away as flesh knit itself up, but only Flinn and a few others could use the Power to remove what was driven deep. Resting two fingers on Rand's chest, Morr caught his tongue between his teeth with a fixed expression and wove Healing. That was how he always did it; it did notwork for him, otherwise. It was not the complex weaves that Flinn used. Few could manage that, and none as well as Flinn, so far. This was simpler. Rougher. Waves of heat rushed through Rand, strong enough to make him grunt and send sweat gushing from every pore. He quivered violently from head to foot. A roast in the oven must have felt that way." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The sudden flood of heat ebbed slowly, and Rand lay panting. In his head, Lews Therin panted, too. Kill him! Kill him! Over and over.\n\nMuting the voice to a faint buzz, Rand thanked Morr-the young man blinked as if surprised!-then grabbed the Dragon Scepter from the ground and forced himself to his feet. Erect, he swayed slightly. Bashere started to offer an arm, then backed away at a gesture. Rand could stand unaided. Barely. He could as soon have flown by waving his arms as channeled, though. When he touched his side, his shirt slipped on blood, yet the old round scar and the newer slash across it merely felt tender. Half-healed only, but they had never been better than that since he got them.\n\nFora moment, he studied the two women. Anaiyella murmured something vaguely congratulatory and offered him a smile that made him wonder whether she intended to lick his wrist. Ailil stood very straight, very cool, as if nothing had happened. Had they meant to leave him to die? Or to kill him? But if so, why send their armsmen charging in and rush to check on him? On the other hand, Ailil had drawn her knife once the talk of him dying began.\n\nMost of the Saldaeans and Illianers were galloping north or riding down the slope of the ridge, pursuing the last of the Seanchan. And then Weiramon appeared from the north, riding a tall, glossy black at a slow canter that picked up when he saw Rand. His armsmen rode in double file at his back.\n\n\"My Lord Dragon,\" the High Lord intoned as he dismounted. He still seemed as clean as he had in Illian. Bashere simply looked rumpled and a bit grimy here and there, but Gregorin's finery was decidedly dirt-stained, and slashed down one sleeve besides. Weiramon flourished a bow to shame a king's court. \"Forgive me, my Lord Dragon. I thought I saw Seanchan advancing in front of the ridge and went to meet them. I never suspected this other company. You can't know how it would pain me if you were injured.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I think I know,\" Rand said dryly, and Weiramon blinked. Seanchan advancing? Perhaps. Weiramon would always snatch at a chance for glory in the charge. \"What did you mean, \"at the last,\" Bashere?\"\n\n\"They're pulling back,\" Bashere replied. In the valley, fire and lightning erupted fora moment as if to give him the lie, but nearly to the far end.\n\n\"Your... scouts do say they all do be retreating,\" Gregorin said, rubbing his beard, and gave Morr a sidelong, uncomfortable glance. Morr grinned at him toothily. Rand had seen the Illianer in the thick of fighting heading his men, shouting encouragement and laying his sword about with wild abandon, but he flinched at Morr's grin.\n\nGedwyn strode up then, leading his horse carelessly, insolently. He almost sneered at Bashere and Gregorin, frowned at Weiramon as if already knowing the man's blunder, and eyed Ailil and Anaiyella as though he might pinch them. The two women drew back from him hastily, but then, so did the men except for Bashere. Even Morr. Gedwyn's salute to Rand was a casual tap of fist to chest. \"I sent scouts out as soon as I saw this lot was done. There are three more columns inside ten miles.\"\n\n\"All headed west,\" Bashere put in quietly, but he looked at Gedwyn sharp enough to slice stone. \"You've done it,\" he told Rand. \"They're all falling back. I doubt they'll stop short of Ebou Dar. Campaigns don't always end with a grand march into the city, and this one is finished.\"\n\nSurprisingly-or perhaps not-Weiramon began arguing for an advance, to'take Ebou Dar for the glory of the Lord of the Morning,\" as he put it, but it was certainly a shock to hear Gedwyn say he would not mind taking a few more swipes at these Seanchan and he certainly would not mind seeing Ebou Dar. Even Ailil and Anaiyella added their voices in favor of'putting an end to the Seanchan once and for all,\" though Ailil did add that she would as soon like to avoid having to return to finish. She was quite sure the Lord Dragon would insist on her company for it. That in atone as cool and dry as night in the Aiel Waste." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Only Bashere and Gregorin spoke for turning back, and raise their voices they did increasingly as Rand stood silent." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Silent and staring west. Toward Ebou Dar.\n\n\"We did do what we came for,\" Gregorin insisted. \"Light's mercy, do you think to take Ebou Dar itself?\"\n\nTake Ebou Dar, Rand thought. Why not? No one would expect that. A total surprise, for the Seanchan and everybody else.\n\n\"Times are, you seize the advantage and ride on,\" Bashere growled. \"Other times, you take your winnings and go home. I say it's time to go home.\"\n\nI would not mind you in my head, Lews Therin said, sounding almost sane, if you were not so clearly mad.\n\nEbou Dar. Rand tightened his hand on the Dragon Scepter, and Lews Therin cackled." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "CHAPTER 24\n\nA Time for Iron\n\nAt a dead run, dodging between moving formations of cavalry and infantry, messengers carried the scouting reports to the huge red-bannered command tent. There were haughty Taraboner lancers and stolid Amadician pikemen in well-ordered squares, breastplates striped horizontally in the colors of the regiments they were attached to. Altaran light horse in disordered bunches made their mounts prance, vain of the red slashes crisscrossing their chests, so different from the markings anyone else wore. The Altarans did not know those indicated irregulars of doubtful reliability. Among the Seanchan soldiers, named regiments with proud honors were represented, from every corner of the Empire, pale-eyed men from Alqam, honey-brown men from N'Kon, men black as coal from Khoweal and Dalenshar. There were morat'torm on their sinuous bronze-scaled mounts that made horses whicker and dance in fright, and even a few morat'grolm with their squat, beak-mouthed charges, but one thing that always accompanied a Seanchan army was conspicuous by it absence. The sul'dam and damane were still in their tents. Captain-General Kennar Miraj thought of sul'dam and damane a great deal.\n\nFrom his seat on the dais he could seethe map table clearly, where helmetless under-lieutenants checked the reports and placed markers to represent the forces in the field. A small paper banner stood above each marker, inked symbols giving the size and composition of the force. Finding decent maps in these lands was next to impossible, but the map copied atop the large table was sufficient. And worrying, in what it told him. Black discs for outposts overrun or dispersed. Far too many of those, dotting the whole eastern half of the Venir range. Red wedges, for commands on the move, marked the western end as thickly, all pointed back toward Ebou Dar. And scattered among the black discs, seventeen stark white. Ashe watched, a young officer in the brown-and-black of a morat'torm carefully placed an eighteenth. Enemy forces. A few might be the same group seen twice, but for the most part they were much too far apart, the timing of the sightings wrong." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Along the walls of the tent, clerks in plain brown coats, marked only with insignia of rank among clerks on the wide collars, waited at their writing tables, pens in hand, for Miraj to issue orders that they would copy out for distribution." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He had already given what orders he could. There were as many as ninety thousand enemy soldiers in the mountains, nearly twice what he could muster here even with the native levies. Too many for belief, except that scouts did not lie; liars had their throats slit by their fellows. Too many, springing out of the ground like trap-worms in the Sen T'jore. At least they had a hundred miles of mountain yet to cover if they intended to threaten Ebou Dar. Almost two hundred, for the white discs farthest east. And hill country after that for another hundred miles. Surely the enemy general could not mean to let his dispersed forces be confronted one by one. Gathering them together would take more time. Time alone was on his side, right then.\n\nThe entry flaps of the tent swept open, and the High Lady Suroth glided in, black hair a proud crest spilling down her back, pleated snow-white gown and richly embroidered over-robe somehow untouched by the mud outside. He had thought her still in Ebou Dar; she must have flown out by to'raken. She was accompanied by a small entourage, for her. A pair of Deathwatch Guards with black tassels on their sword hilts held the tentflaps, and more were visible outside, stone-faced men in red-and-green. The embodiment of the Empress, might she live forever. Even the Blood took note of them. Suroth sailed pastas if they were as much servants as the lushly bodied da'covale in slippers and a nearly transparent white robe, her honey-yellow hair in a multitude of thin braids, who carried the High Lady's gilded writing desk a meek two paces behind. Suroth's Voice of the Blood, Alwhin, a glowering woman in green robes with the left side of her head shaved and the remainder of her pale brown hair in a severe braid, followed close on her mistress's heels. As Miraj stepped down from the dais, he realized with shock that the second da'covale behind Suroth, short and dark-haired and slim in her diaphanous robe, was damane! A damane garbed as property was unheard of, but odder still, it was Alwhin who led her by the a'dam!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He let none of his amazement show as he went to one knee, murmuring, \"The Light be upon the High Lady Suroth. All honor to the High Lady Suroth.\" Everyone else prostrated themselves on the canvas groundcloth, eyes down. Miraj was of the Blood, if too low to shave the sides of his scalp like Suroth. Only the nails of his little fingers were lacquered. Much too low to register surprise if a High Lady allowed her Voice to continue acting as sul'dam after being raised to the so'jhin. Strange times in a strange land, where the Dragon Reborn walked and marath'damane ran wild to kill and enslave where they would.\n\nSuroth barely glanced at him before turning to study the map table, and if her black eyes tightened at what she saw, she had cause. Under her, the Hailene had done far more than had been dreamed, reclaiming great stretches of the stolen lands. All they had been sent for was to scout the way, and after Falme, some had thought even that impossible. She drummed fingers on the table irritably, the long blue-lacquered fingernails on the first two clicking. Continued success, and she might be able to shave her head entirely and paint a third nail on each hand. Adoption into the Imperial family was not unheard of for achievements so great. And if she stepped too far, overstepped, she might find her fingernails clipped and herself stuffed into a filmy robe to serve one of the Blood, if not sold to a farmer to help till his fields, or sweat in a warehouse. At worst, Miraj would only have to open his own veins.\n\nHe continued to watch Suroth inpatient silence, but he had been a scout lieutenant, morat'raken, before being raised to the Blood, and he could not help being aware of everything around him. A scout lived or died by what he saw or did not, and so did others. The men lying on their faces around the tent; some hardly seemed to breathe. Suroth should have taken him aside and let them continue with their work. A messenger was being turned back by the soldiers at the entrance. How dire was the message that the woman tried to push past Deathwatch Guards?" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "As the author's co-writer, advance the plot.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, magic\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: The Path of Daggers\nChapter: 35" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"My Lord,\" Balwer murmured as they came abreast of one of those heaps of rubble. He barely waited for Perrin's nod before turning his hammer-nosed mount aside and making his way in another direction, hunched in his saddle with his brown cloak held tight around him. Perrin had no worries about the dried-up little man going off alone, even here. Fora secretary, he managed to learn a surprising amount on these forays of his. He seemed to know what he was about.\n\nDismissing Balwer from his thoughts, Perrin set to what he was thereabout.\n\nIt took only one question, put to a lanky young man with an ecstatic light on his face, to learn where the Prophet was staying, and three more to other folk in the streets to find the merchant's house, four stories of gray stone with white marble moldings and window frames. Masema disapproved of grubbing for money, but he was willing to accept accommodations from those who did. On the other hand, Balwer said he had slept in a leaky farmhouse as often and been as satisfied. Masema drank only water, and wherever he went, he hired a poor widow and ate the food she prepared, fair or foul, without complaint. The man had made too many widows for that charity to count far with Perrin.\n\nThe throng that packed the streets elsewhere was absent in front of the tall house, yet the number of armed guards like those at the bridge almost made up for it. They stared at Perrin sullenly, those who did not sneer insolently. The two Aes Sedai kept their faces hidden in their deep hoods and their heads down, white breath rising from the cowls like steam. From the corner of his eye, Perrin saw Elyas thumbing the hilt of his long knife. It was hard not to stroke his axe." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I've come with a message for the Prophet from the Dragon Reborn,\" he announced. When none of the men moved, he added, \"My name is Perrin Aybara. The Prophet knows me.\" Balwer had cautioned him about the dangers of using Masema's name, or calling Rand anything but the Lord Dragon Reborn. He was not thereto start a riot.\n\nThe claim of knowing Masema seemed to put a spark into the guards. Several exchanged wide-eyed looks, and one went running inside. The rest stared at him as if he were a gleeman. Ina few moments, a woman came to the door. Handsome, with white at her temples, in a high-necked dress of blue wool that was fine if unadorned, she might have been the merchant herself. Masema did not throw those who offered him hospitality into the streets, but their servants or farmhands usually ended up with one of the bands'spreading the glories of the Lord Dragon.\"\n\n\"If you will come with me, Master Aybara,\" the woman said calmly, \"you and your friends, I will take you to the Prophet of the Lord Dragon, may the Light illumine his name.\" Calm she might sound, but terror filled her scent.\n\nTelling Neald and the Warders to watch the horses until they returned, Perrin followed her inside with the others. The interior was dark, with few lamps lit, and not much warmer than outside. Even the Wise Ones seemed subdued. They did not smell afraid, but almost as close to it as the Aes Sedai, and Grady and Elyas smelled of wariness, of raised hackles and ears laid back. Strangely, Aram's scent was eager. Perrin hoped the man did not try to draw that sword on his back.\n\nThe large, carpeted room the woman led them to, with fires blazing on hearths at either end, might have been a general's study, every table and half the chairs covered with maps and papers, and warm enough that Perrin tossed his cloak back and regretted wearing two shirts under his coat. But it was Masema standing in the middle of the room who drew his eyes immediately, like iron filings to a lodestone, a dark, scowling man with a shaven head and a pale triangular scar on one cheek, in a wrinkled gray coat and scuffed boots. His deep-set eyes burned with a black fire, and his scent... The only name Perrin could give that smell, steel-hard and blade-sharp and quivering with wild intensity, was madness. And Rand thought he could put a leash on this?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"So, it is you,\" Masema growled." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I did not think you would dare show your face. I know what you've been up to! Hari told me more than a week ago, and I have kept myself informed.\" A man shifted in a corner of the room, a narrow-eyed fellow with a thrusting nose, and Perrin upbraided himself for not noticing him before. Hari's green silk coat was much finer than what he had worn when he denied collecting ears. The fellow rubbed his hands together and grinned at Perrin viciously, but he kept silent as Masema went on. The Prophet's voice grew hotter by the word, not with anger, but as though he meant to burn every syllable deep into Perrin's flesh. \"I know about you murdering men who have come to the Lord Dragon. I know about you trying to carve out your own kingdom! Yes, I know about Manetheren! About your ambition! Your greed for glory! You have turned your back on-!\"\n\nSuddenly Masema's eyes bulged, and for the first time, anger flamed in his scent. Hari made a strangled sound and tried to back through the wall. Seonid and Masuri had lowered their hoods and stood with bare faces, calm and cool, and plainly Aes Sedai to anyone who knew the look. Perrin wondered whether they held the Power. He would have wagered that the Wise Ones did. Edarra and Carelle were quietly watching every direction at once, and smooth faces or no, if he had ever seen anyone ready to fight, it was them. For that matter, Grady wore readiness like his black coat; maybe he held the Power, too. Elyas was leaning against the wall beside the open doors, outwardly as composed as the sisters, but he smelled ready to bite. And Aram stood gazing at Masema with his mouth hanging open! Light!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So that is true, too!\" Masema snapped, spittle flying from his lips. \"With filthy rumors spreading against the holy name of the Lord Dragon, you dare to ride with these... these...!\"\n\n\"They've sworn fealty to the Lord Dragon, Masema,\" Perrin cut in. \"They serve him! Do you? He sent me to stop the killing. And to bring you to him.\" No one was offering him a chair, so he pushed a stack of papers from one and sat. He wished the rest would sit, too; shouting seemed harder when you were sitting down.\n\nHari goggled at him, and Masema was practically shaking. Because he had taken a chair without being asked? Oh. Yes.\n\n\"I have given up the names of men,\" Masema said coldly. \"I am simply the Prophet of the Lord Dragon, may the Light illumine him and the world come to kneel before him.\" By his tone, the world and the Light would regret failure equally. \"There is much to do here, yet Great works. All must obey when the Lord Dragon calls, but in winter, travel is always slow. A delay of a few weeks will make little difference.\"\n\n\"I can have you in Cairhien today,\" Perrin said. \"Once the Lord Dragon has spoken to you, you can return the same way and be back herein a few days.\" If Rand let him return.\n\nMasema actually recoiled. Baring his teeth, he glared at the Aes Sedai. \"Some contrivance of the Power? I will not be touched with the Power! It is blasphemy for mortals to touch it!\"\n\nPerrin came close to gaping. \"The Dragon Reborn channels, man!\"\n\n\"The blessed Lord Dragon is not as other men, Aybara!\" Masema snarled. \"He is the Light made flesh! I will obey his summons, but I will not be touched by the filth these women do!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Slumping back in the chair, Perrin sighed. If the man was this bad over Aes Sedai, how would he be when he learned that Grady and Neald could channel? Fora moment, he considered simply knocking Masema over the head, and... Men were passing by in the corridor, pausing to glance in before hurrying on. All it took was one of them raising a shout, and Abila could become a slaughterhouse. \"Then we ride, Prophet,\" he said sourly. Light, Rand had said to keep this secret until Masema stood in front of him! How to manage that riding all the way to Cairhien? \"But no delays. The Lord Dragon is very anxious to talk with you.\"\n\n\"I am anxious to speak with the Lord Dragon, may his name be blessed by the Light.\" His eyes flickered toward the two Aes Sedai. He tried to hide it, actually smiling at Perrin. But he smelled... grim. \"I am very anxious indeed.\"\n\n\"Would my Ladylike me to ask one of the handlers to bring her a hawk?\" Maighdin asked. One of Alliandre's four hawk handlers, all men as lean as their birds, urged a sleek duckhawk wearing a feathered hood onto his heavy gauntlet from the wooden stand in front of his saddle and lifted the gray bird toward her. The falcon, with its blue-tipped wings, was on Alliandre's green-gloved wrist. That bird was reserved to her, unfortunately. Alliandre knew her place as a vassal, but Faile understood not wanting to relinquish a favorite bird.\n\nShe merely shook her head, and Maighdin bowed in her saddle and moved her roan mare away from Swallow, far enough not to intrude but close enough to beat hand without Faile raising her voice. The dignified golden-haired woman had proved to be every bit as good a lady's maid as Faile had hoped, knowledgeable, capable. At least, she had once she learned that whatever their relative positions with their former mistress, Lini was first among Faile's serving women, and willing to use her authority. Surprisingly, that had actually taken an episode with a switch, but Faile pretended not to know. Only an utter fool embarrassed her servants. There was still the matter of Maighdin and Tallanvor, of course. She was certain Maighdin had begun sharing his bed, and if she found proof, they would marry if she had to turn Lini loose on both of them. Still, that was a small matter, and could not spoil her morning." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Hawking had been Alliandre's idea, but Faile had not objected to a ride through this sparse forest, where snow made a rolling blanket over everything and lay thick and white on bare branches. The green of the trees that still held their leaves seemed sharper. The air was crisp, and it smelled new and fresh.\n\nBain and Chiad had insisted on accompanying her, but they squatted nearby, shoufa wrapped around their heads, watching her with disgruntled expressions. Sulin had wanted to come with all of the Maidens, but with a hundred stories of Aiel depredations floating everywhere, the sight of an Aiel was enough to send most people in Amadicia running or reaching fora sword. There must be some truth in those tales, or so many would not know an Aiel, though the Light alone knew who they were or where they had come from, yet even Sulin agreed that whoever they were, they had moved on east, perhaps into Altara.\n\nIn any case, this close to Abila, twenty of Alliandre's soldiers and as many Mayener Winged Guards provided sufficient escort. The streamers on their lances, red or green, lifted like ribbons when the breeze stirred. Berelain's presence was the only blight. Though watching the woman shiver in her fur-trimmed red cloak, thick enough for two blankets, was certainly amusing. Mayene did not have areal winter. This was like the last days of autumn. In Saldaea, the heart of winter could freeze exposed flesh hard as wood. Faile took a deep breath. She felt like laughing.\n\nBy some miracle, her husband, her beloved wolf, had begun behaving as he should. Instead of shouting at Berelain or running from her, Perrin now tolerated the jade's blandishments, plainly tolerated them the way he would a child playing around his knees. And best of all, there was no longer any need to tamp down her anger when she wanted to let it loose. When she shouted, he shouted back. She knew he was not Saldaean, but it had been so hard, thinking in her heart of hearts that he believed her too weak to stand up to him. A few nights ago at supper, she had almost pointed out to him that Berelain was going to fallout of her dress if she leaned over the table any farther. Well, she was not going to go that far, not with Berelain; the trull still thought she could win him. And that very morning, he had been commanding, quietly brooking no argument, the sort of man a woman knew she had to be strong to deserve, to equal. Of course, she would have to nip him over that. A commanding man was wonderful, so long as he did not come to believe he could always command. Laugh? She could have sung!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Maighdin, I think after all I will...\" Maighdin was there immediately with an enquiring smile, but Faile trailed off at the sight of three riders ahead of her, plowing through the snow as fast as they could push their horses.\n\n\"At least there are plenty of hares, my Lady,\" Alliandre said, walking her tall white gelding up beside Swallow, \"but I had hoped... Who are they?\" Her falcon shifted on her thick glove, the bells on its jesses jingling. \"Why, it looks like some of your people, my Lady.\"\n\nFaile nodded grimly. She recognized them, too. Parelean, Arrela and Lacile. But what were they doing here?\n\nThe three drew rein before her, their horses panting steam. Parelean looked as wide-eyed as his dapple. Lacile, her paleface nearly hidden in the deep cowl of her cloak, was swallowing anxiously, and Arrela's dark face seemed gray. \"My Lady,\" Parelean said urgently, \"dire news! The Prophet Masema has been meeting with the Seanchan!\"\n\n\"The Seanchan!\" Alliandre exclaimed. \"Surely he cannot believe they will come to the Lord Dragon!\"\n\n\"It might be simpler,\" Berelain said, heeling her too-showy white mare upon Alliandre's other side. Without Perrin about for her to try to impress, her dark blue riding dress was cut quite modestly, with a neck up under her chin. She still shivered. \"Masema dislikes Aes Sedai, and the Seanchan keep women who can channel as prisoners.\"\n\nFaile clicked her tongue in vexation. Dire news indeed, if true. And she could only hope Parelean and the others retained enough of their wits to at least pretend they had simply overheard talk by chance. Even so, she had to be sure, and quickly. Perrin might already have reached Masema. \"What proof do you have, Parelean?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We talked to three farmers who saw a large flying creature land four nights ago, my Lady. It brought a woman who was taken to Masema and remained with him for three hours.\"\n\n\"We were able to trace her all the way to where Masema stays in Abila,\" Lacile added.\n\n\"The three men all thought the creature was Shadowspawn,\" Arrela put in, \"but they seemed fairly reliable.\" For her to say any man not of Cha Faile was fairly reliable was the same as anyone else saying they thought he was honest as a bell.\n\n\"I think I must ride into Abila,\" Faile said, gathering Swallow's reins. \"Alliandre, take Maighdin and Berelain with you.\" Any other time, the tightening of Berelain's lips over that would have been amusing. \"Parelean, Arrela and Lacile will accompany me-\" A man screamed, and everyone jerked.\n\nFifty paces away, one of Alliandre's green-coated soldiers was toppling from his saddle, and a moment later, a Winged Guard fell with an arrow standing out from his throat. Aiel appeared among the trees, veiled and wielding bows as they ran. More soldiers fell. Bain and Chiad were on their feet, dark veils hiding their faces to the eyes; their spears were thrust through the straps of the bow cases on their back, and they worked their bows smoothly, but they cast glances toward Faile, too. There were Aiel all around, hundreds it seemed, a great noose closing in. Mounted soldiers lowered lances, pulling back in their own circle around Faile and the others, but gaps appeared immediately as Aiel arrows struck home.\n\n\"Someone must get this news of Masema to Lord Perrin,\" Faile told Parelean and the two women. \"One of you must reach him! Ride like fire!\" Her sweeping gaze took in Alliandre and Maighdin. And Berelain, too. \"All of you, ride like fire, or die here!\" Barely waiting for their nods, she suited actions to words, and dug her heels into Swallow's flanks, bursting through the useless ring of soldiers. \"Ride!\" she shouted. Someone had to get the news to Perrin. \"Ride!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Leaning low on Swallow's neck, she urged the black mare for speed. Fleet hooves splashed snow as Swallow ran, light as her namesake. Fora hundred strides, Faile thought she might break free. And then Swallow screamed and stumbled, pitching forward with the sharp snap of a breaking leg. Faile flew through air and struck hard, most of the breath driven out of her as she plunged facedown into the snow. Fighting for air, she struggled to her feet and snatched a knife from her belt. Swallow had screamed before she stumbled, before that awful crack.\n\nA veiled Aielman loomed up before her as if out of the air, chopping at her wrist with a stiffened hand. Her knife dropped from suddenly numb fingers, and before she could try to draw another with her left hand, the man was on her.\n\nShe fought, kicking, punching, even biting, but the fellow was as wide as Perrin and ahead taller. He seemed as hard as Perrin, too, for all the impression she made on him. She could have wept with frustration at the humiliating ease with which he handled her, first rooting out all of her knives and tucking them behind his belt, then using one of her own blades to cut her clothes away. Almost before she knew it, she was naked in the snow, her elbows bound together behind her back with one of her stockings, the other tied about her neck fora leash.\n\nShe had no choice except to follow him, shivering and stumbling through the snow. Her skin pebbled with the cold. Light, how she had ever thought this day anything less than icy? Light, if only someone had managed to escape with the news of Masema! To carry word of her capture to Perrin, of course, but she could escape somehow. The other was more important." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The first body she saw was Parelean, sprawled on his back with his sword in one outflung hand and blood allover his fine coat with the satin-striped sleeves." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There were plenty of corpses after, Winged Guards in their red breastplates, Alliandre's soldiers in their dark green helmets, one of the hawkers, the hooded duckhawk flapping vainly against the jesses still gripped in the dead man's fist. She held onto hope, though.\n\nThe first other prisoners she saw, kneeling among some Aiel, men and Maidens with their veils hanging down their chests, were Bain and Chiad, each naked, unbound hands on her knees. Blood ran down across Bain's face and matted her flame-red hair. Chiad's left cheek was purple and swollen, and her gray eyes looked slightly glazed. They knelt there, straight-backed, impassive, and unashamed, but as the big Aielman pushed her roughly to her knees beside them, they roused themselves.\n\n\"This is not right, Shaido,\" Chiad mumbled angrily.\n\n\"She does not follow ji'e\"toh,\" Bain barked. \"You cannot make her gai'shain.\"\n\n\"The gai'shain will be quiet,\" a graying Maiden said absently. Bain and Chiad gave Faile regretful looks, then settled back to their calm waiting. Huddling, trying to hide her nakedness against her knees, Faile did not know whether to weep or laugh. The two women she would have chosen to help her escape from anywhere, and neither would raise a hand to try because of ji'e'toh.\n\n\"I say again, Efalin,\" the man who had captured her muttered, \"this is foolishness. We travel at a crawl in this... snow.\" He said the word awkwardly. \"There are too many armed men, here. We should be moving east, not taking more gai'shain to slow us further.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Sevanna wants more gai'shain, Rolan,\" the graying Maiden replied. She frowned, though, and her hard gray eyes seemed disapproving fora moment.\n\nShivering, Faile blinked as the names sank in. Light, but the cold was making her wits slow. Sevanna. Shaido. They were in Kinslayer's Dagger, as far from here as was possible to be without crossing the Spine of the World! Clearly they were not, though. That was something Perrin should know, another reason for her to escape soon. There seemed little chance of that, crouching therein the snow and wondering which bits of her were going to freeze first. The Wheel was balancing her amusement over Berelain's shivers with a vengeance. She was actually looking forward to the thick woolen robes that gai'shain wore. Her captors made no move to depart, though. There were other captives to be brought in.\n\nFirst was Maighdin, stripped bare and bound as Faile was, and struggling every step of the way. Until the Maiden who was pushing her along abruptly kicked her feet out from under her. Maighdin plunked down sitting in the snow, and her eyes popped so wide that Faile might have laughed if she had not felt sorry for the woman. Alliandre came next, bent nearly double in an effort to shield herself, and then Arrela, who seemed half paralyzed by her nudity and was almost being dragged by a pair of Maidens. Finally, another tall Aielman appeared with a furiously kicking Lacile tucked under one arm like a package.\n\n\"The rest are dead or escaped,\" the man said, dropping the small Cairhienin woman beside Faile. \"Sevanna will have to be satisfied, Efalin. She puts too much store in taking people who wear silk.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Faile did not struggle at all when she was prodded to her feet and set to laboring through the snow at the head of the other prisoners. She was too stunned to fight. Parelean dead, Arrela and Lacile captive, and Alliandre, and Maighdin. Light, someone had to warn Perrin about Masema. Someone. It seemed a final blow. Here she was, shivering and gritting her teeth to keep them from chattering, trying her best to pretend that she was not stark naked and bound, on her way to an uncertain captivity. All of that, and she had to hope that that slinking cat-that pouting trull!-Berelain, had managed to escape so she could reach Perrin. Alongside everything else, that seemed the worst of all.\n\nEgwene walked Daishar along the column of initiates, sisters on their horses among the wagons, Accepted and novices afoot despite the snow. The sun was bright in a sky with few clouds, but mist curled from her gelding's nostrils. Sheriam and Siuan rode at her back, talking quietly about information learned from Siuan's eyes-and-ears. Egwene had thought the fire-haired woman an efficient Keeper once she learned that she was not the Amyrlin, but day by day, Sheriam seemed to grow evermore assiduous about her duties. Chesa followed on her tubby mare in case the Amyrlin wanted anything, and unlike her, she was muttering again about Meri and Selame both running away, the ungrateful wretches, leaving her to do the work of three. They rode slowly, and Egwene very carefully did not look toward the column.\n\nA month of recruiting, a month of the novice book being open to all, had brought in startling numbers, a flood anxious to become Aes Sedai, women of every age some from hundreds of miles away. There were now twice as many novices with the column as before. Almost a thousand! Most by far would never wear the shawl, yet the number of them had everyone staring. Some might cause minor problems, and one, a grandmother named Sharina with a potential above even that of Nynaeve, certainly had everyone startled, but it was not the sight of a mother and daughter squabbling because the daughter would be the stronger by far one day that she was trying to avoid, or noblewomen who were beginning to think they had made the wrong choice asking to be tested, or even Sharina's disturbingly direct looks. The gray-haired woman obeyed every rule and showed every proper respect, but she had run her large family by the sheer force of her presence, and even some of the sisters stepped warily around her. What Egwene did not want to see were the young women who had joined them two days before. The two sisters who brought them had been more than startled to find Egwene as Amyrlin, but their charges could not believe it, not Egwene al'Vere, the Mayor's daughter from Emond's Field. She did not want to order anyone else punished, but she would have to if she saw another stick her tongue out at her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gareth Bryne had his army in a wide column, too, cavalry and foot all arrayed and stretching out of sight through the trees. The pale sun glinted off breastplates and helmets and the points of pikes. Horses stamped their hooves in the snow impatiently.\n\nBryne walked his sturdy bay to meet her before she reached the Sitters waiting on their horses, in a large clearing ahead of both columns. He smiled at her through the face-bars of his helmet. A reassuring smile, she thought. \"A fine morning for it, Mother,\" he said. \"Here.\"\n\nShe only nodded, and he fell in behind her, beside Siuan. Who did not immediately begin spitting at him. Egwene was not certain exactly what accommodation Siuan had reached with the man, but she seldom grumbled about him anymore in Egwene's hearing, and never when he was present. Egwene was glad he was there, now. The Amyrlin Seat could not let her general know she wanted his reassurance, but she felt the need of it this morning.\n\nThe Sitters had their horses in a line at the edge of the trees, and thirteen more sisters sat their mounts a little way off, watching the Sitters carefully. Romanda and Lelaine spurred their animals forward almost together, and Egwene could hardly help sighing as they approached, cloaks flaring behind them, hooves spraying snow as if at the charge. The Hall obeyed her because it had no choice. In matters concerning the war against Elaida, they did, but Light, how they could quibble over what did or did not concern the war. When it did not, getting anything out of them was like pulling duck's teeth! Except for Sharina, they might have found away to put a stop to accepting women of any age. Even Romanda was impressed by Sharina." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The pair reined in before her, but before they could open their mouths, she spoke. \"It's time we got on with it, daughters, and no time for wasting in idle chatter. Proceed.\" Romanda sniffed, though softly, and Lelaine looked as though she wanted to.\n\nThey wheeled their horses as one, then glared atone another a moment. Events this past month had only heightened their dislike for each other. Lelaine tossed her head angrily in concession, and Romanda smiled, a faint curving of her lips. Egwene almost smiled, too. That mutual animosity was still her greatest strength in the Hall.\n\n\"The Amyrlin Seat commands you to proceed,\" Romanda announced, raising one hand grandly.\n\nThe light of saidar sprang up around the thirteen sisters near the Sitters, around all of them together, and a thick slash of silver appeared in the middle of the clearing, rotating into a gateway ten paces tall and a hundred wide. Falling snow drifted through from the other side. Shouted orders rose among the soldiers, and the first armored heavy calvary rode through. The swirling snow beyond the gateway was too thick to see far, yet Egwene imagined that she could make out the Shining Walls of Tar Valon, and the White Tower itself.\n\n\"It has begun, Mother,\" Sheriam said, sounding almost surprised.\n\n\"It has begun,\" Egwene agreed. And the Light willing, soon Elaida would fall. She was supposed to wait until Bryne said sufficient of his soldiers were through, but she could not stop herself. Digging her heels into Daishar's flanks, she rode through into the falling snow, onto the plain where Dragon-mount reared black and smoking against a white sky." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "CHAPTER 31\n\nAfter\n\nAt Tar Valon, some stories said, great armies had clashed, and the streets ran with blood, and rebel Aes Sedai had stuck the head of Elaida a'Roihan on a pike. No; Elaida had closed her hand, and those who survived among the rebels groveled at Elaida's feet. There had been no rebels, no division of the White Tower. It was the Black Tower that had been broken, by Aes Sedai designs and Aes Sedai power, and Asha'man hunted Asha'man across the nations. The White Tower had shattered the Sun Palace in Cairhien, and the Dragon Reborn himself was bound now to the Amyrlin Seat, her puppet and her tool. Some tales said Aes Sedai had been bound to him, bound to the Asha'man, yet few believed that, and those few were ridiculed.\n\nArtur Hawkwing's armies had returned to reclaim his long-dead empire, and the Seanchan were sweeping all before them, even to driving the Dragon Reborn from Altara in defeat. The Seanchan had come to serve him. No; he had cast the Seanchan into the sea, destroying their army utterly. They had carried the Dragon Reborn away, to kneel before their Empress. The Dragon Reborn was dead, and there was as much celebration as mourning, as many tears as cries of joy.\n\nAcross the nations the stories spread like spiderweb laid upon spiderweb, and men and women planned the future, believing they knew truth. They planned, and the Pattern absorbed their plans, weaving toward the future foretold." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Advance the plot as the writer's tale assistant.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, vengeance\nAuthor: Terry Goodkind\nTitle: Phantom\nChapter: 59" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Their eyes met." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He was staring right into her green eyes.\n\nWhen Jagang started to turnaround, she immediately turned away, looking off where he was watching. He turned back with her.\n\nAnd then she was gone, hidden behind men and wagons and horses and tents, disappearing into the distance.\n\nRichard fell back against the wall, gasping.\n\nJohnrock sat down beside him. \"Ruben-what's wrong? You look like you've seen a phantom walking among all those men.\"\n\nRichard could only stare, his eyes wide, as he panted.\n\n\"It was my wife.\"\n\nJohnrock let out a hardy laugh. \"You mean you saw the woman you want when we win? The commander says that if we beat the emperor's team, we'd get to pick one. You seethe one you want?\"\n\n\"It washer...\"\n\n\"Ruben, you look like a man who just fell in love.\"\n\nRichard realized that his smile felt like it might break his face.\n\n\"It washer. She's alive. Johnrock-I wish you could see her. She's alive. She looks exactly the same. Dear spirits, it was Kahlan. It washer.\"\n\n\"I think you'd best slowdown your breathing, Ruben, or you're going to pass out before we have a chance to break some heads.\"\n\n\"We're going to play the emperor's team, Johnrock.\"\n\n\"We got to win a lot of games, first, to have that chance.\"\n\nRichard hardly heard the man. He laughed with glee, unable to stop himself. \"It washer. She's alive.\" Richard threw his arms around Johnrock, hugging him tightly. \"She's alive!\"\n\n\"If you say so, Ruben.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Kahlan carefully controlled her breathing, trying to get her galloping heart to slowdown." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She couldn't understand why she was so shaken. She didn't know the man in the cage. She had only seen his face briefly as the wagon rolled past, but for some reason it shook her down to her very soul.\n\nThe second time the man yelled her name, Jagang acted like he thought he'd heard something. Kahlan had turned back around so that he wouldn't suspect anything. She didn't know why that had seemed so desperately important.\n\nThat wasn't true. She did know why. The man was in a cage. If he knew her, Jagang might have hurt him, even killed him.\n\nThere was more to it, though. That man knew her. He had to be connected to her past. The past she wanted to forget.\n\nBut when she had looked into his gray eyes, everything had changed in a heartbeat. Her numb acceptance had shattered. She no longer wanted her past to be buried. She suddenly wanted to know everything.\n\nThe look in that man's eyes was so profoundly powerful-so filled with something important, something vital-that it drove home to her how important her life was.\n\nSeeing the look in his gray eyes, Kahlan realized that she had to know who she was. Whatever the consequences, whatever the cost, she had to know the truth. She had to have her life back. The truth was the only way.\n\nJagang's threats of what he would do to her might be a very real consequence, but she suddenly knew that the real danger was that he was intimidating her into abdicating her life, her will, her existence... into giving herself over to his control. By his threats of what he would do to her once she again knew who she was, he was dictating her life, enslaving her. If she went along with his will, then it was only because she surrendered hers." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She couldn't allow herself to think that way. Her life meant more than that. She maybe his captive, but she was not his slave. A slave was a state of mind. She was not a slave.\n\nShe would not surrender her will to him. She would have her life back.\n\nHer life washers alone and she would have it back. Nothing Jagang could do, nothing he could threaten her with, could take that away from her.\n\nKahlan felt a tear of joy roll down her cheek.\n\nThat man she didn't even remember had just given her the will to take her life back, the fire to live. It felt like the first real breath she had taken since she had lost her memory.\n\nShe only wished she could thank him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nicci marched through the vast hall of the People's Palace trailing Cara, Nathan, and a gaggle of guards. Every time someone called Nathan'Lord Rahl,\" it set her nerves on edge. She knew it was necessary, but in her heart the only Lord Rahl was Richard.\n\nShe would have given just about anything to see his gray eyes again. Being in the palace made it seem she could almost feel his presence all around her. It was the spell the palace was built around, she supposed. The palace was builtin the form of a spell for the Lord Rahl. Richard was the Lord Rahl. At least in her mind.\n\nTo be fair, she knew there were others-Cara, for one-who felt the same. When she was alone with Cara, which was often, the two of them seemed to share understanding without words being needed. Both shared the same anguish. Both of them wanted Richard back.\n\nCara stepped forward, leading them through a network of small service hallways to an iron stairway up a dark well. Reaching the top, she threw open the door. They were greeted with cold light as they stepped out onto the observation deck. Being right out at the edge of the outer wall, at the edge of the plateau, felt like standing on the edge of the world.\n\nDown below, spread like a black taint almost to the distant horizon, was the army of the Imperial Order.\n\n\"See what I mean?\" Nathan said as he stepped up beside her, pointing out the construction in the distance. It was hard to see at first, but it quickly began to make sense.\n\n\"You're right,\" she said. \"It does look like a ramp. Do you think they can actually build a ramp all the way up here?\"\n\nNathan gazed out at the site, studying it fora moment. \"I don't know, but I would have to say that if Jagang is going to all the trouble of doing such a thing, it can only be because he has reason to believe that he can accomplish it.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"If they make it up herewith a ramp that broad,\" Cara said, \"we're in trouble.\"\n\n\"More like \"dead,\"\" Nathan said.\n\nNicci studied what the men of the Order were doing, and the distance to the site of the work. \"Nathan, you're a Rahl. This place amplifies your power. You ought to be able to send some wizard's fire down there and blow that thing apart.\"\n\n\"My thought, too,\" he said. \"I suspect that they have Sisters down therewith shields to prevent anyone up here from doing just that. I've not probed for such defenses, and I've not tried anything yet. I want to wait until they've been at it for quite awhile longer-to make them feel complacent. Then, when they have some more done, and they're closer, and when I finally do hit them, I'll have a better chance of doing some real damage. If I'm able to destroy it now, they won't have lost much. Better to wait until they've already put a great deal more time and work into it.\"\n\nNicci frowned up at the tall prophet. \"Nathan, you area very devious man.\"\n\nHe smiled a Rahl smile. \"I prefer to think of myself as ingenious.\"\n\nNicci went back to surveying the camp out beyond the site of the construction. It was just far enough away to provide their gifted with plenty of time to react to an attack. Nicci had spent enough time with Jagang's army to know a great deal about the way they thought. She knew the layers of defenses that Jagang's officers and gifted would place around the army. And some of those gifted were Sisters of the Dark.\n\n\"Look at that,\" she said, pointing. \"It looks like a supply train is just arriving.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Nathan nodded." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Winter will be here shortly. The army looks like they're not going anywhere, so they will need a lot of supplies to keep all those men alive over the winter.\"\n\nNicci considered what could be done, finally deciding that, from where they stood, very little. \"Well, Richard sent the army south to the Old World to attack their supply trains, among other things. Let's hope they're effective and can accomplish the task. If all those men starve to death that would solve our problem. In the meantime, I'll devote some thought to what we might be able to do to help them die.\"\n\nShe turned away from the depressing view of the encampment, and the supply train bringing all those men what they needed to stay and lay siege to the palace.\n\n\"Come on,\" she said to Nathan. \"I need to get back, but why don't you show me before I leave.\"\n\nNathan took them down through the palace by the smaller, staff areas, rather than the vast halls. It was a quick descent through the stone interior of the palace, taking them ever lower into the dark, inner regions beneath the palace that were what most people never saw. There were elegant if simple stone halls even in these unseen places. Without elaborate decoration, they were made of polished stone in places, and rich woods in others. These were the private corridors used by the Lord Rahl and his staff.\n\nNicci had come to the People's Palace to pay a visit to the Garden of Life. After that, she had checked to see how Berdine was doing in her search for information, and how Nathan was getting on. They had wanted to tell her details of their difficulties; she hadn't really wanted to take the time but she made herself listen patiently.\n\nAfter having again seen the place where the boxes of Orden had been, she had been too distracted to be able to really focus on what they were telling her. This time she saw the deserted Garden of Life differently, getting a feel for where Darken Rahl had opened the boxes, for where they had sat. She had studied the position of the room, the amount of light, the angles to various known star charts in addition to how the sun and moon transverse the place, and the area where the spells had been invoked." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Since translating The Book of Life, Nicci viewed the Garden of Life in a different way." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She saw it through the context of the magic of Orden and how the room had been used. It had given her a valuable insight into the last place the boxes had been used. Such practical reference had answered some questions she'd had, and confirmed some of the conclusions she'd come to.\n\nAt last Nathan reached a set of double doors with guards standing before them. He gestured and the men opened the pair of white doors. Beyond was a wall of white stone that looked as if it had partly melted.\n\n\"Have you been in there?\" she asked the prophet.\n\n\"No,\" he admitted. \"At my age I try to stay out of tombs as much as I can.\"\n\nNicci stepped over the low ledge at the same time as she ducked through the low opening. \"Wait here,\" she said to Cara, who had been about to follow her in.\n\n\"Are you sure?\"\n\n\"This involves magic.\"\n\nCara wrinkled her nose as if she had gotten a whiff of sour milk, and waited outside along with the prophet.\n\nNicci sent a spark of Han into a torch to the side. After all this time it still lit. She saw then that the huge vaulted room was constructed of pink granite. The floor was white marble. On the walls all around were dozens and dozens of gold vases, each set in the wall beneath a torch. Nicci absently counted them. Fifty-seven. It appeared to her to be a number that had meaning. Probably the vases and torches represented the age of the man in the coffin in the center of the room.\n\nThe place was troubling, and not just because it was a crypt. She trailed her fingers along the symbols cut into the granite walls just beneath the vases. The words that ran around the entire room and around the golden coffin were High D'Haran. The inscriptions were instructions from a father to a son on the process of going to the underworld and returning. Quite the legacy." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Such spells contained Subtractive Magic." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That was what was causing the walls to melt. Containing them by walling the place over with special stone had slowed the process greatly, but had not halted it entirely.\n\n\"Well?\" Nathan asked, poking his head in through the melted hole. \"Any ideas?\"\n\nNicci stepped out, brushing off her hands. \"I don't know. I don't think there's any imminent danger, but this involves dark things so there's a chance I'm wrong. I think it would be best to shield it behind an invocation of threes.\"\n\nNathan nodded in thought. \"You want to do it? Lace it with Subtractive?\"\n\n\"It would be best if you did it. You're a Rahl. That would be more effective. Even if I used Subtractive, this inhere already has both mixed in, and it was created by a Rahl. Such power could breach any invocation I could create inhere under the limitations of the protective spell of the palace.\"\n\nHe considered only briefly. \"I will see to it at once.\" Nathan cast a look back at the crypt. \"Any idea what's causing this spell to burn through?\"\n\n\"Off the top of my head I'd say it was activated by one of the boxes of Orden having been opened up in the Garden of Life. I suspect they created a sympathetic reaction of some sort. It's not yet active enough lor me to tell the purpose of the Subtractive element, but the words inscribed on the coffin and walls indicate that the constituent composition in there was intended to be used to aid in the acquisition of the power of Orden, so they act in a harmonic response after having been in the vicinity of that specific power.\"\n\nNathan nodded in thought. \"All right. I'll do an invocation of threes and keep my eye on it.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I have to get back. I will check back later, just to see if you've had any word from Richard and to see how the Order is getting along out there.\"\n\n\"Tell Zedd that I have everything well in hand, and I have the enemy surrounded.\"\n\nNicci smiled. \"I'll tell him.\"\n\nOn her way through the vast halls of the palace, with Cara at her side, Nicci was lost in thought. She was unsure of what to do next. There were troubling problems descending from every direction. Most felt shadowy and ill defined. There was no one with whom she could really discuss all the things going through her mind. Zedd was a help in some of it, while Cara was good to talk to for other things.\n\nBut Richard was the only one who would be able to grasp the ways in which she was beginning to understand fundamental issues. Richard, in fact, was the one to introduce her to the concept of creative magic. She still clearly remembered that talk with him, one night at camp. It was one of the many defining moments with Richard.\n\nThere were also things Richard needed to know. There were incidents involving him and the boxes of Orden that were troubling, to say the least. Ina way, he had built afire under ingredients that were not merely dangerous but were beginning to bubble and boil and could possibly combine on their own in the most insidious ways if action wasn't taken.\n\nThere were prophecies involved that, not being a prophet, she didn't trust herself to understand. There were other prophecies that she was beginning to think she understood all too well and could not avoid taking into consideration.\n\nPrimary among those was the prophecy that said, \"In the year of the cicadas\"-which this was-\"when the champion of sacrifice and suffering, under the banner of both mankind and the Light, finally splits his swarm\"-which Jagang had done-\"thus shall be the sign that prophecy has been awakened and the final and deciding battle is upon us. Be cautioned, for all true forks and their derivatives are tangled in this mantic root. Only one trunk branches from this conjoined primal origin.\" This was the time, succeed or fail, all or nothing, the watershed moment, that would forever set the course for the future. \"If fuer grissa ost drauka does not lead this final battle, then the world, already standing at the brink of darkness, will fall under that terrible shadow.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That prophecy, she was beginning to see, was tangled in the boxes of Orden, but she couldn't quite grasp how. From time to time she felt on the brink of understanding, but she could never quite breakthrough to it. There was something just beneath the surface of that prophecy that she knew was key.\n\nAt the same time, she felt that events were cascading, unrestrained, and she had to do something before those events tumbled out of control. With each passing day, she knew that options would continue to close for them. The Sisters of the Dark having put the boxes in play had already cutoff their ability to use the power of Orden for its intended purpose: to counteract the ignition of the Chainfire event. With Chainfire contaminated by the chimes, they were rapidly losing the ability to use their gift to correct the damage.\n\nThere was no telling how much longer any of them would have sufficient control of their gift necessary to be of any use in overcoming any of the obstacles they faced.\n\nAt the same time, The Book of Life had come to have meaning for her that she could never have imagined. She had also studied several very obscure books Zedd had found for heron Ordenic theory. They, too, had added depth to her understanding, but all of that only seemed to open other areas to bigger questions.\n\nStartled, Nicci halted and looked up. \"What was that?\"\n\n\"The bell for devotion,\" Cara said, looking a little puzzled at Nicci's reaction.\n\nNicci watched people begin to gather before a nearby square with a pool in the center. The pool, with a large, dark rock set off center, was opened to the sky.\n\n\"Perhaps we should go to devotion,\" Cara said. \"It sometimes helps when you're troubled, and I can tell that you are definitely troubled.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Nicci frowned at the Mord-Sith, wondering how she knew that something was troubling her." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She supposed that it really wasn't all that hard to tell.\n\n\"I don't have time to go to devotion,\" Nicci said. \"I have to get back and figure this out.\"\n\nCara didn't look like she thought that was a good idea. She held a handout toward the square.\n\n\"Thinking about Lord Rahl might help.\"\n\n\"Thinking about Nathan is not going to dome any good. I don't care if everyone thinks that Nathan is the Lord Rahl. Richard is Lord Rahl.\"\n\nCara smiled. \"I know. That's what I meant.\" She took Nicci by the arm, drawing her toward the pool. \"Come on.\"\n\nNicci stared at the woman as she was being dragged along, and then said, \"I suppose it couldn't hurt to stop fora short time to think about Richard.\"\n\nCara nodded, looking somehow very wise at that moment. People respectfully made way for the Mord-Sith as she strode up to a spot near the pond. Nicci saw that there were fish gliding through the dark waters. Before she knew it, she was kneeling with Cara, putting her forehead to the floor.\n\n\"Master Rahl guide us,\" the crowd began chanting in one voice, \"Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us. In your light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives are yours.\"\n\nNicci added her voice to the others, and together they lifted to reverberate through the halls. The words'Master Rahl\" and Richard seemed indistinguishable to her. They were one in the same.\n\nAlmost against her will, Nicci's turbulent thoughts quieted as she softly chanted the words along with everyone else." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Master Rahl guide us. Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us. In your light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives are yours.\"\n\nShe lost herself in the words. The sunlight was warm on her back. The next day was the first day of winter, but inside Lord Rahl's palace the sun was warm, much like up in the Garden of Life. It seemed odd in that Darken Rahl, and his father, Panis, were the Lord Rahl before, making this place the seat of evil.\n\nShe realized, though, that the place was only that-a place. The man was what mattered. The man made the defining difference. The man set the tone that others followed, either rightly or wrongly. Ina way, the devotion was the formal statement of that concept.\n\n\"Master Rahl guide us. Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us. In your light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives are yours.\"\n\nThose words reverberated in Nicci's mind. She missed Richard so much. Even though his heart belonged to someone else, she just missed seeing him, seeing his smile, talking to him. If that was all she could ever have, that was enough to sustain her. Just his friendship, his value in her life, and hers in his.\n\nJust Richard being happy, being alive, being... Richard.\n\nOur lives are yours.\n\nNicci abruptly rose upon her knees.\n\nShe understood.\n\nPuzzled, Cara frowned up at her as everyone else chanted. \"What's wrong?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Our lives are yours.\n\nShe knew what she had to do.\n\nNicci stood in a rush. \"Come on. I have to get back to the Keep.\"\n\nAs they ran together through the halls, Nicci could hear the whispering sound of voices rising up together to echo reverently through the vast corridors.\n\n\"Master Rahl guide us. Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us. In your light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives are yours.\"\n\nNicci felt herself lost in words that suddenly had meaning for her that they had never had before.\n\nShe understood how it all fit together, at last, and knew what she had to do.\n\nZedd rose from his chair at the desk in the little room when he saw Nicci standing in the doorway. The lamplight softened his familiar face. \"Nicci, you're back. How are things at the People's Palace?\" Nicci hardly heard the question. Answering it was beyond her. Zedd stepped closer, concern settling in his hazel eyes.\n\n\"Nicci, what's wrong. You look like a phantom come to haunt the halls.\"\n\nShe had to force herself to speak. \"Do you trust Richard?\"\n\nZedd's brow drew down. \"What kind of question is that?\"\n\n\"Do you trust Richard with your life?\"\n\nZedd gestured with one arm. \"Of course. What's this about?\"\n\n\"Do you trust Richard with everyone's life?\"\n\nZedd gently gripped her arm. \"Nicci, I love that boy.\"\n\n\"Please, Zedd, do you trust Richard with everyone's life?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "The concern in his eyes overspread his face, deepening the creases." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He finally nodded. \"Of course I do. If there was ever anyone I would trust with my life, or the life of anyone, it would be Richard. After all, I'm the one who named him to be Seeker.\"\n\nNicci nodded as she turned.\n\n\"Thank you, Zedd.\"\n\nHe lifted his robes a little as he hurried after her. \"Do you need some help with something, Nicci?\"\n\n\"No,\" she said. \"Thank you. I'm fine.\"\n\nZedd at last nodded, taking her word for it, and returned to the book he was studying.\n\nNicci walked through the halls of the Keep without seeing them. She moved as if following an invisible glowing line to her destination, the way Richard said he could follow the glowing lines of a spell-form.\n\n\"Where are we going?\" Cara asked, rushing to follow behind.\n\n\"Do you trust Richard? Trust him with your life?\"\n\n\"Of course,\" Cara said without an instant of hesitation.\n\nNicci nodded as she continued on.\n\nShe passed corridors, intersections, rooms, and stairs without really seeing them. Ina daze of purpose, she finally reached the hardened area of the Keep and the grand room where the verification web had nearly taken her life. She would have died had it not been for Richard. He insisted on finding away to save her when no one else believed it could be done.\n\nShe trusted Richard with her life, and her life was very precious to her, thanks to him.\n\nAt the double doors, Nicci turned to Cara. \"I need to be alone.\"\n\n\"But I-\"\n\n\"This involves magic.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" Cara said. \"Well, all right, then. I'll just wait out herein the hall in case you need anything.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Thank you, Cara. You're a good friend.\"\n\n\"I never had any real friends-friends really worth having-until Lord Rahl came along.\"\n\nNicci smiled a little. \"I never had anything worth living for until Richard came along.\"\n\nNicci closed the double doors. Behind her, the two-story windows flickered with lightning. Nicci didn't know if she had ever been in that room when there wasn't a storm.\n\nNow the whole world was caught in a storm.\n\nWhen the lightning flashed the room lit with the harsh glare. There was one thing in the room, however, that did not register the touch of even such intense light. It waited like death itself.\n\nNicci laid The Book of Life open on the table before the inky black box of Orden sitting in the center of the table. It seemed that every time the lightning tried to ignite, that black box swallowed the light before it could really get started. Staring at it was like looking into forever.\n\nNicci invoked the first spell, calling forth darkness to match the impossible blackness of the grim box sitting before her. She reminded herself that, like the People's Palace, it was the person who denned it. With a thunderclap of power filling the room, the door was barred. No one could enter. The containment field of the windows no longer mattered. She had conjured something more powerful. The room was silent and pitch black. Nicci's vision came from the powers she had called forth.\n\nShe spoke the words written on the next page, invoking the next spell that opened the pathway for the governing formulas. She used a sliver of Subtractive Magic to void a razor-thin piece of flesh at the tip of her finger, and used the blood that began to ooze to begin drawing the diagrams needed before the box of Orden. As more blood ran from the open wound, she drew a containment field around the box itself. It was something like the field of the room, but on a much more intense scale. Without being contained first, such power as was liberated from the box of Orden could unintentionally breach the veil, but in away that would kill only the person attempting what Nicci was attempting." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Almost not needing to read the book that she had been studying for what seemed half her life, she went onto the equations involving the time of year: the first day of winter.\n\nOnce that was completed, she drew the two opposing symbols and the joint of the apex from the proper charts in blood.\n\nIt went on, one intense formula after another, for the next hour, with calculations bringing the resultant layer of magic forth to be folded into the next step. Each node in the book required that only the appropriate level of power be applied. At each spot, Nicci let it flow forth without reservation.\n\nThere was no other way.\n\nAs the night wore on, the lines of the spell built around the box-in someways like the Chainfire verification web, with lines that glowed green. But others were a pure white, while yet others were constructed of Subtractive elements and they were blacker than black, looking like nothing so much as voids in the world where the lines belonged, like slits looking into the underworld.\n\nWhen Nicci completed the last incantation, she finally heard the whisper of Orden itself, confirmation that she had done everything properly. Yet it was not so much a voice as a force that formed the concept in her mind.\n\nThe power is open, it whispered through the darkness, in words that felt like ice cracking.\n\n\"I call upon this time, this place, this world to turn with this play of the boxes of Orden.\"\n\nName the player.\n\nNicci placed her hands on the dead black box before her.\n\n\"The player is Richard Rahl,\" she said. \"Heed his will. Do his bidding if he proves worthy, kill him if he does not, destroy us all if he fails us.\"\n\nIt is done. From this moment forward the power of Orden is in play by Richard Rahl." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Prophecy said, \"If fuer grissa ost drauka does not lead this final battle, then the world, already standing at the brink of darkness, will fall under that terrible shadow.\"\n\nNicci had come to realize that if Richard was to win, he must be the one leading them in this final battle. The only way to lead was for him to have the boxes in play. In that way, he truly would be the fulfillment of prophecy: fuer grissa ost drauka-the bringer of death.\n\nProphecy said that they had to follow Richard, but it was more than prophecy. Prophecy only expressed the formality of what Nicci knew, that Richard embodied the values that promoted life.\n\nThey weren't really following prophecy; prophecy was following Richard.\n\nThis was the ultimate following of Richard, following him in what he did with the boxes of Orden, in what he did with life and death itself. This was the ultimate test of who he was, who he would be, who he would become.\n\nRichard himself had named the terms of the engagement when he spoke to the D'Haran troops, telling them how the war would be fought from now on: all or nothing.\n\nThis could be no different.\n\nIt now truly was all or nothing.\n\nUlicia and her Sisters of the Dark had likewise opened the gateway to the power of Orden. The struggle was now truly in balance. If Nicci was right about Richard, and she knew she was, then two forces now properly were engaged in the struggle that would decide it all.\n\nIf fuer grissa ost drauka does not lead this final battle, then the world, already standing at the brink of darkness, will fall under that terrible shadow.\n\nThey had to trust in Richard in that struggle. For that reason Nicci had to put the boxes of Orden into play in Richard's name. The Sisters of the Dark no longer were the exclusive arbiters of the power of Orden. In that sense, Nicci had just put Richard into play, giving him the ability to win this struggle." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Without what she had just done, he could not win, much less survive.\n\nNicci seemed to drift in a world apart. When she finally opened her eyes, the storm had ended.\n\nThe first rays of light were just touching the windows.\n\nIt was dawn, on the first day of winter.\n\nRichard had one year to open the correct box.\n\nEveryone's life was now in his hands.\n\nNicci trusted Richard with her life. She had just entrusted everyone's life to him.\n\nIf she couldn't trust Richard, then life wasn't worth living." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Advance the storyline as the writer's tale partner.\nTags: fantasy, flintlock fantasy, revolution\nAuthor: Django Wexler\nTitle: The Price of Valor\nChapter: 36" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Jane, stop.\" Winter could feel tears in her eyes. \"Please.\"\n\n\"Don't take the highroad with me,\" Jane said. \"You killed your Sergeant Davis, didn't you? And God knows how many others, the people you're'responsible'for, you send them to die when Janus gives the order, don't you? Don't you dare moralize at me.\"\n\n\"Just... stop.\"\n\n\"If it were me, I'd give it all up,\" Jane said. \"You know that, don't you? I'd give up everything for you.\"\n\n\"I know.\" Winter struggled to breathe. \"But I can't.\"\n\nThere was a pause. In the silence, Winter could hear boots pounding down the corridor, voices raised in alarm. Jane's hand shook, the barrel of the pistol wavering.\n\n\"I should have known,\" Jane said. \"If you loved me the way I love you, you would have killed Ganhide when I fucking told you to.\"\n\nThe door burst open. Jane's finger jerked on the trigger.\n\nTwice before, Winter had stared down the barrel of a pistol and known she was going to die. The first time, in Khandar, it had been the incompetence of Davis' cronies that had saved her. The second time, under the Vendre, it had been Sothe. This time-\n\n-the hammer came down, spraying sparks-\n\n-the powder in the pan ignited, hissing into smoke-\n\n-and that was all. Flash in the pan.\n\nDumb luck.\n\nShe sank to her knees, her vision blurred with tears. As the guards rushed into the room and Janus shouted orders, all she could hear was the distant sound of Jane's hysterical laughter." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "With the Hotel Ancerre occupied by Janus'troops, Sothe had commandeered a suite at the Grand for the queen, hastily'returned\" from her exile in the country. It was the same hotel where she'd once looked out on the Exchange and watched Cora ruin one of the mightiest Borelgai banking houses with little more than a rumor and the magic voice of Danton Aurenne. Neither the food nor the service was up to the standards of those days, the war having obviously taken its toll, but at least there was plenty of wine.\n\nOrganizing the Army of the East to control the city and guard against potential counterattacks by Directory diehards had taken most of a day, which had given Raesinia time to send to Ohnlei for some of her old things. It meant that she could at least greet Janus looking like the queen instead of a boyish revolutionary. She'd chosen a dress a bit less severe than those she'd favored earlier, still mourning black in memory of her late father, but accented with silver and a hint of lace. Sothe, her bandages carefully hidden beneath her own elegant attire, had helped her put it on without comment.\n\nNow, waiting in the dining room beside the vast, bare table, she felt suddenly nervous. Janus had never given her reason to suspect he was anything but a devoted servant of the crown, but the fact was that he was in a position to do exactly as he pleased, at least fora while.\n\nThere was a deferential rap at the door, and a hotel footman announced, \"Your Majesty, General Vhalnich has arrived.\"\n\n\"Let him in,\" Raesinia said.\n\nTo her surprise, Janus was alone, without the usual string of guards and aides. He wore his dress uniform, Vordanai blue with a cape of Mierantai crimson, a thin sword on his hip. The footman, resplendent in the uniform of the Grand, came in just behind him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Do you require anything, Your Majesty?\" the servant said.\n\n\"No,\" Raesinia said. \"See that we're not disturbed.\"\n\n\"Of course.\"\n\nThe footman bowed and withdrew. At Raesinia's gesture, Janus crossed the foyer to stand before her in the dining room. He also bowed, very low, his cape draped wide.\n\n\"Your Majesty,\" he said. \"I can't tell you how good it is to see you in good health.\"\n\nShe searched his face for the slightest hint of a smirk, and found nothing. He, of all people, knew that her health was not an issue.\n\n\"And you, General,\" Raesinia said. \"Please, sit. I apologize for my lack of hospitality, but I thought we should speak in private.\"\n\nThey were alone in the huge suite. Sothe had herded all the servants out hours ago, then departed herself to double-check Janus' security arrangements. Mierantai guards prowled the halls, and blue-uniformed soldiers from the Army of the East stood watch at the doors and in the stairways.\n\n\"A break from being constantly assaulted with hors d'oeuvers is just the thing,\" Janus said, taking the chair opposite her. \"Everyone in Vordan seems to want to invite me to a feast. I sometimes feel like they're fattening me up for the slaughter.\"\n\n\"They're grateful,\" Raesinia said. \"I am grateful. I'll say that officially, of course, but I want you to know that I mean it personally as well. You and your army saved the city from Maurisk and the Black Priests, and saved me from God only knows what fate.\"\n\n\"Colonel d'Ivoire and Colonel Ihernglass had a great deal to do with the latter,\" Janus said. \"Frankly, I arrived too late to be much good.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'll convey my thanks to them, too, of course.\" She cocked her head. \"You'll be able to retrieve the Thousand Names?\"\n\n\"Oh yes. The river is barely ten yards deep at that point, and steel tablets won't drift in the current. It shouldn't take long to haul them out again.\"\n\n\"That's good.\" Raesinia paused, trying to decide how to raise the main issue. Her indecision must have shown on her face, because a quick smile flickered across Janus\" features, like summer lightning.\n\n\"You want to know what I'm going to do with Vordan City,\" he said, \"now that I've got it.\"\n\n\"The thought had crossed my mind,\" Raesinia said, obscurely relieved. Ina way, it was freeing to be so helpless. She had no army, no loyal followers, nothing to match the thousands of soldiers who would march at Janus' command. But march where?\n\n\"The Deputies-General is in chaos now that the Directory has been arrested,\" she went on. \"Maurisk locked upmost of the Ministry of War, and now they've been let free, but nobody seems to know what to do with themselves.\" Giles Durenne had been one of the Spike's last victims. His second in command, Captain Robert Englise, was trying to keep the basic logistical apparatus of the army running, but it seemed like an uphill battle.\n\n\"The situation is confused,\" Janus agreed. \"I think that, just now, the country needs a strong hand to guide it.\"\n\nThis is it, then. The end of the Orboan dynasty, the moment where Janus elevated himself from general toking. I wonder what he'll do with me.\n\n\"I... don't disagree,\" she said cautiously. \"But...\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Let me speak plainly, Your Majesty.\" Janus put his hands on the table. \"I will not take the throne. Not only would it be against every oath I have sworn, as an officer and a nobleman, but I don't want it.\" He gestured down at his uniform. \"War is where my talent and interests lie. Once peace returns, I wish to... withdraw.\"\n\nRaesinia blinked. \"Then what are you going to do?\"\n\n\"What I swore an oath to your father to do. What I told you I would do, before the revolution.\" He smiled again, there and gone in an instant. \"I am going to win the war and make you the queen your father would have wanted you to be.\"\n\n---\n\nMARCUS\n\nThere was a knock at the door. Marcus put down the paper he'd been reading-a rather lurid account of the battle of Jirdos, from one of the newly reopened presses-and pushed himself up a little higher in bed. His thigh throbbed abominably with every movement, and the skin itched under the wool bandages, which was almost worse.\n\n\"Yes?\" he said.\n\n\"I wondered,\" came Janus' voice, \"if you might spare a few moments.\"\n\n\"Oh! Come in, sir.\"\n\nThe door opened, and the general entered. Marcus was mildly surprised to see that he was in the dress uniform he'd worn to Cabinet meetings before the revolution.\n\nHe saluted, as best he could from his seated position, and said, \"Sorry that I can't stand to attention, sir, but-\"\n\nJanus waved a hand airily. \"Enough of that. How are you feeling?\"\n\n\"Not quite as bad as I was.\" He'd nearly bitten through the gag when the surgeon extracted the metal fragment from his thigh. \"Doctor-Professor Haartgen says that if the wound was going to fester, it would have done it by now, so I'll probably keep the leg. He says I may come out of it with a bit of a limp, but considering the circumstances I'd count myself lucky.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'm glad to hear it.\"\n\nJanus pulled a chair across the room and set it beside the bed, then sat, careful not to tangle his cloak or the decorative sword at his side. They were back at the University, something Marcus couldn't but find a little disconcerting given what had happened, but Haartgen had insisted that the facilities were superior. He had to admit it was more comfortable than his cot in the converted office building that housed most of the other casualties, although the vast, echoing emptiness of the halls attested to how few of its residents had returned.\n\n\"It's good to see you, sir,\" Marcus said.\n\n\"Likewise,\" Janus said. \"I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner, but matters have been... unsettled, as I'm sure you can imagine. I can't stay long, I'm afraid.\"\n\n\"I understand, sir.\" Marcus had been getting the news in bits and pieces of gossip and hysterical broadsheet articles, but he'd pieced together the gist. \"I believe congratulations are in order.\"\n\n\"I suppose they are. I'm due at the Deputies-General in an hour, where they're going to vote on... well, the forms are complicated. The legal scholars were up all night going through the precedents.\"\n\n\"They're putting you in charge,\" Marcus said.\n\n\"More or less.\" Janus lowered his head, hands in his lap. \"The Directory is officially dissolved. The queen and I have had negotiations...\"\n\nHe trailed off. Marcus frowned.\n\n\"Is something wrong, sir?\"\n\n\"I didn't come hereto discourse on politics,\" Janus said. \"I wanted... I felt that I ought to apologize. I believe I have done poorly by you.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Sir?\" Marcus shook his head. \"If anything, I'm the one who should be apologizing. You left me hereto protect the queen and the Thousand Names, and I lost them both.\"\n\n\"I left you with an impossible task,\" Janus said. \"I had hoped that secrecy would be sufficient to protect the Names, but in retrospect it seems obvious that the Priests of the Black would have more than ordinary means of gathering information. With the forces at your disposal, I could hardly expect you to stand up to the Penitent Damned.\"\n\nMarcus shook his head, not sure what to say. In the privacy of his own skull, he'd entertained similar thoughts, but he found he couldn't voice them, not to Janus.\n\n\"And yet,\" the general went on, \"you did stand up to them. I have heard the story of your attack on the fire demon, and seen the bombs the Patriot Guard planted. Thousands of my soldiers owe you their lives.\"\n\n\"I had a lot of help,\" Marcus said. \"It was Raesinia-that is, the queen-who really took charge. And Sothe, Andy, and the others made it work. The Leatherbacks and the refugees.\" He swallowed. \"A lot of good people died there.\"\n\n\"A great many people have died,\" Janus said, \"both good and bad, to get us this far. But we are not finished yet.\"\n\n\"We're still at war,\" Marcus said.\n\n\"I expect the Hamveltai will sue for peace, and the rest of the League will follow. They were always the least committed to the fight, and with Antova and Desland in our hands their ability to attack us is crippled. The queen will, I expect, offer generous terms. But Borel and Murnsk are still unbloodied, and the emperor in particular has barely begun to exert his strength.\" Janus paused. \"But that is not the heart of it. The queen tells me you know her secret.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Marcus nodded. \"She carries a demon.\"\n\n\"The Thousand Names may eventually provide a key to help solving that problem. But the Priests of the Black will not make peace, not now. They know we have the Names, and they know a demonic presence sits on the throne of Vordan. A faith cannot be destroyed with cannonballs.\"\n\n\"So how do we beat them?\"\n\n\"We must go to Elysium,\" Janus said. \"We must break their power at the source, or we will never have peace.\"\n\n\"Elysium.\" Marcus stared. \"You're-of course you're serious. You're always serious. But-\"\n\n\"I know the objections,\" Janus said, holding up a hand. \"Elysium is deep in Imperial Murnsk, surrounded by the armies of the emperor and a sea of hostile fanatics. It is a fortress-city that has never been taken, even during the Demon Wars, when the Church was young. And it is full of things like the one you fought on the Green Road.\"\n\n\"That about sums it up, yes,\" Marcus said. \"So how do we get there?\"\n\nA brief smile crossed Janus'face. \"The same way we get anywhere else, Colonel. One step at a time.\" His eyes sparkled, but his expression became serious again. \"I wanted to ask if you were with me. After what happened here, no one would blame you for wanting to be out of it, least of all me. I could arrange an easy post somewhere, or a comfortable retirement, whichever you'd prefer.\"\n\n\"I...\" Marcus shook his head.\n\nHe'd always considered himself loyal to crown and country, but it had been a vague, distant thing, buried under more pressing concerns. In Khandar, he'd fought for nothing more or less than survival, against what often seemed to be impossible odds. He'd followed Janus home, and when the revolution broke out he'd been mostly driven by a sense of duty to the men under his command, the Armsmen who'd become his responsibility." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Now Janus was willing to declare those responsibilities at an end. But while country had become vaguer than ever-Marcus wasn't certain what Vordan really meant anymore-queen had taken on a personal solidity. She wasn't some abstract ideal, a monarch whose honor his oaths obligated him to defend. She was a short, pretty woman with a quick smile, who wore ridiculous boyish trousers whenever she got the chance, never listened to advice when she ought to, and felt the pain of everyone who got hurt trying to protect her like a spear in her own heart. She'd been forced into this world, the world of demons and Penitent Damned, and for the crime of survival the Black Priests wanted to lock her away forever.\n\nHe wanted to protect her. But the best place to do that was on the battlefield.\n\n\"I'm with you, sir,\" he said. As though that was ever in question. He wondered if Janus knew what he was going to say before he said it, whether he asked only for form's sake. \"May I ask one favor, though?\"\n\n\"Of course,\" the general said.\n\n\"No more skulking on street corners, please. Just give me a command in the field. A battalion of good men.\" Marcus waved his hands, a gesture intended to encompass the whole city around them. \"I've had enough of this kind of war.\"\n\n\"I think I can do considerably better than a battalion,\" Janus said. \"The army will soon enter winter quarters, which will provide a welcome respite and a chance for reorganization. I'll find you a place deserving of your talents.\"\n\n\"Thank you, sir.\"\n\n\"Again, it's the least I can do.\"\n\n\"Have you had any word of Alek Giforte, or the Preacher?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'm glad to be able to say they're both well. Captain Giforte took his men deep into the forest and managed to elude the Patriot Guard pursuit, though he asked me to express his regret that he wasn't able to provide more help. Captain Vahkerson was still awaiting trial for treason when we liberated the Directory prison. Apparently, there was something of a backlog.\"\n\n\"I'm glad to hear it, sir. They were both of considerable assistance.\"\n\nJanus nodded and got to his feet, straightening his cloak so it fell neatly around his sword. \"Well. I have a ceremony to attend, and you need to rest. I'll give your regards to the queen. She asks after you often, by the way.\"\n\n\"Please thank her for me.\" Marcus hesitated. \"For... everything.\"\n\n\"I will.\" Janus turned away, red cloak billowing neatly behind him.\n\n---\n\nRAESINIA\n\nThe Deputies-General had spared no expense. In part, Raesinia guessed, this was to disguise their own impotence. With the Directory dissolved, the Patriot Guard disbanded, and the mob still enthralled by their heroic general, the legislature was helpless to resist Janus'demands, and they knew it. To reassure themselves of their own importance, they'd gone into a frenzy of pomp and ceremony. Artisans had descended on the Sworn Cathedral, mending, replacing, and polishing, until every inch of woodwork gleamed and every carven saint seemed ready to spring to life.\n\nThe great and powerful were streaming back into the capital now that the fighting was done, eager to get back to the business of suckling at the national teat. Carriages were lined up four deep in the square outside the Cathedral, and soldiers of the Army of the East formed a human fence that kept the mobs at bay. The royal procession, however, was waved past the lines of those waiting to disembark, and the driver brought the coach to a halt in front of the main doors, in a space kept empty by a pair of women in blue uniforms. A female captain waited between them while another young ranker fetched a set of cushioned steps to enable Raesinia to get down without jumping." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Your Majesty,\" the captain said, saluting.\n\n\"Captain,\" Raesinia said.\n\n\"May I say how honored I am that you requested the services of our battalion as your escort?\"\n\n\"It seems only fitting,\" Raesinia said. \"Is Colonel Ihernglass here?\"\n\n\"I'm afraid not, Your Majesty,\" the captain said, frowning fora moment. \"The colonel is... resting.\"\n\n\"Understandable. May I ask your name, then?\"\n\n\"Captain Abigail Giforte, Your Majesty.\" She saluted again, then extended a hand. \"If you'll follow me?\"\n\nThe two rankers fell into step behind them as they went inside. More soldiers had cordoned off a path, but beyond them, the cream of Vordanai society had gathered to gawk at their young queen. Raesinia found herself falling back into her old habits, walking with neatly upright posture and eyes carefully avoiding meeting anyone's gaze, as her old tutors had taught her. Give them a chance to stare. That's what you're here for. Don't send any signals that you don't mean to send. It had been drilled into her until it was unconscious instinct.\n\n\"You serve under Colonel Ihernglass, then?\" Raesinia said as they walked at a dignified pace down the long hallway.\n\n\"Yes, Your Majesty. I command the Girls' Own-that is, the First Battalion of the Third Regiment of the Line.\"\n\n\"I owe your men-your soldiers, I mean-a great deal.\"\n\nThe captain dipped her head. \"They'll be honored to hear it, Your Majesty.\"\n\nThe great arch was before them, and beyond it the main hall. The last time Raesinia had been here, it was a wreck, but the Deputies-General had refurbished its meeting place and left very little trace of its original sacred purpose. Two long, tiered benches lining the walls provided seats for the actual deputies, while a visitors'gallery occupied the space where the altar and pulpit had once stood. Between them was the speaker's rostrum, a polished wooden podium set atop a marble plinth with room for five or six people to stand. Sothe was already there, along with four more women soldiers. Raesinia's head of household curtsied as she approached, and whispered in Raesinia's ear as she passed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I've been over every inch of this place, in case you're worried.\"\n\n\"No bombs this time?\" Raesinia said, equally quietly.\n\n\"Nothing but a few rats.\"\n\nAt Raesinia's request, the soldiers standing beside heron the rostrum were the four who'd survived the raid on the Hotel Ancerre. Andy, stiff as aboard, looked close to panic as the attention of the room focused on them. Joanna, one arm still wrapped in bandages, seemed to take the scrutiny in stride, but she kept stealing glances at her smaller companion-Barely or Barley, Raesinia wasn't certain which and couldn't figure out a polite way to ask-who had a bandage wrapped around her head like a crown. Vicky, the last, wore an elegantly tailored dress uniform complete with gilded sword with an expression of severe embarrassment.\n\nThe new President of the Deputies-General was an octogenarian Free Priest from Essyle, a jolly if somewhat forgetful old boy whose greatest feature was that, as a complete nonentity, he was regarded by all parties as a safe choice. He tottered up to the rostrum now, bowed deeply before Raesinia, and straightened up again with only a little difficulty. Once installed behind the podium, he cleared his throat, and in a creaky voice said, \"I declare the one hundred and eighteenth session of the Deputies-General of the Kingdom of Vordan open.\"\n\nThere was more, something about procedures and minutes, but it was drowned under arising cheer. Deputies on both sides of the aisle got their feet, applauding for Raesinia, or for themselves, or for Vordan in general. The president kept talking, regardless of the fact that no one could hear him, and the crowd had only begun to fall silent when he finished his long preamble." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"As our first item of business,\" the president said, \"our esteemed monarch, Queen Raesinia Orboan, has come to make an address. Your Majesty?\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" Raesinia said. Sothe, efficient as ever, discreetly pushed a cushioned step behind the podium so Raesinia would be able to stand at something like the correct height. Raesinia took her perch and looked out at the sea of faces, the deputies in their bleachers and the balconies full of onlookers, the hall full of those who hadn't been able to cadge a seat. And, beyond them, the nation, waiting for the broadsheets that would spread her words across hundreds of miles.\n\nIt's a good thing, she thought, I don't get stage fright. She pried her hands, carefully, away from where they had taken a death grip on the edges of the podium, and began her speech.\n\nIt was a good speech-not her very best work, but as a speaker Raesinia was no Danton Aurenne. The marvelous acoustics of the Cathedral carried her voice to every corner of the vast room and muted the buzz of conversation in the crowd. She thanked the deputies for their efforts, which brought another round of applause, and thanked the dead and wounded soldiers for their sacrifice, which was met by an appropriately solemn silence. She trotted out the required platitudes about hoping for peace and prosperity-was there ever a ruler who wished for ruin and disaster?-while maintaining a will to resist aggression.\n\nShe was following a script, and the audience nodded along, like connoisseurs of the theater at a well-remembered play, following every nuance of this particular performance. She said things because it would be remarked on if she didn't say them. Her mind ran ahead, to the end of the speech, where the only substance lay. Most of the audience knew what was going to happen, or had guessed, but she had to say the words to make it real. Like I was a magician, she thought, and had to work hard not to giggle." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The events of the past few months,\" she said, working up to the peroration, \"have made it clear that the military of Vordan requires a single guiding hand, a single will to forge it into a sword aimed at the hearts of those who threaten our kingdom. There must be no more accusations of treason, no more feuding generals. My father, if he were alive, would have taken on the task himself.\"\n\nWhen he had, Raesinia reflected, it was a disaster. Her father had been a great man, and a brave one, but he'd never had the talent for the battlefield.\n\n\"But this is anew age,\" she went on. \" Vordan has a constitution, and true power is vested in the ultimate sovereign, the people, as represented by their deputies in this assembly. The monarch should not command the nations' armies, lest she be tempted to ignore the will of the elected representatives. Yet we also must not stray down the path of the Directory and bring the iron fist of military discipline to civilian affairs.\n\n\"I have taken the answer from history. The ancient republics of the Old Coast were wise in this, as in so much else. When war or disaster threatened, they would appoint a single leader best able to deal with the problem, men who would step aside when the crisis was past. Today, I ask the Deputies-General to follow their example, and to name Count General Janus bet Vhalnich Mieran the First Consul of the Kingdom of Vordan!\"\n\nNot bad, she thought, as the applause began. The bit about the constitution-which still did not technically exist, in anything but the broadest outline-had been certain to play well with the men largely responsible for it. Emphasizing the limits of the new post, rather than its vast powers, made it more acceptable in a city so recently out from under the bloody hand of a tyrant." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The title'consul\" had been Raesinia's suggestion. It carried the weight of history, the connotations of great men who worked selflessly for their republic and then stepped aside. And the truth was that Vordan needed Janus, with practically unlimited authority, if it was going to stand a chance once the vast, slow-moving legions of Murnsk were brought to bear and while Borel continued its stranglehold on the coasts.\n\nNow Janus himself appeared, immaculate in army blue and the red of his home county. He was escorted up the aisle between the deputies by four men of the Mierantai Volunteers, with red uniforms and long rifles on their shoulders. They stopped, standing rigidly at attention, and saluted, while Janus took a few more steps forward and then sank to one knee.\n\n\"Count Mieran,\" Raesinia said. \"If the Deputies-General does grant my request, will you serve in the post of consul for as long as the emergency requires?\"\n\n\"I will, Your Majesty,\" Janus said, his normally soft voice ringing throughout the hall.\n\n\"And do you swear, on your sacred honor, to exercise the powers granted to you only in defense of Vordan and its interests?\"\n\n\"I swear, Your Majesty.\"\n\n\"And do you swear that on the successful conclusion of the war, you will relinquish your office, and submit yours to the orders of this assembly, where all authority rightfully resides?\"\n\n\"I swear, Your Majesty.\"\n\n\"Then I submit my proposal to the Deputies-General,\" Raesinia said, turning to the president. \"I request a vote.\"\n\nShe stepped back, and the old man took the podium again, going through the motions. The vote was more or less a formality, of course. Even if Janus'troops hadn't occupied the city, the streets wouldn't have stood for anything less than their hero being put in charge of the nation's armies. The deputies had tasted the mob's wrath once before, for failing to put Janus in command, and she doubted any of them wanted to try it again." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Looking down at him, though, Raesinia felt suddenly uncertain. This was the right thing to do, the only thing she could have done, but there was a sudden, awful sense that she'd stepped over a cliff without looking down. Janus stared up at her, gray eyes huge and luminous, and the briefest of smiles flashed across his face.\n\nBe wary of Vhalnich, the Ghost had said. He plans deep." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Adam Ionkovo pulled himself out of a shadow when the guard turned her back, landing on the flagstones with the slightest rasp of leather on stone. The woman, in a blue army uniform with a musket on her shoulder, was still looking toward the stairs, listening to a muted conversation from the guardroom above.\n\nThey were in the cells under the Guardhouse, former headquarters of the Armsmen, which Janus'Army of the East had taken over for important prisoners. One level down, Maurisk and the rest of the Directory languished, along with a few other'traitors\" who'd been rounded up or surrendered themselves. This level was unused, except for this single cell, with its single prisoner.\n\nIt was also only a few floors away from where Ionkovo himself had been'imprisoned\" while he was playing his little game with d'Ivoire. The irony was not lost on the Penitent Damned.\n\nHe had chosen his moment carefully. The infernai, the desert creature who served the Beast, had dogged his every step the past few days, especially when he came anywhere near either Vhalnich or the queen. The sand-thing couldn't keep Ionkovo from slipping away, but he couldn't hurt it, either. A stalemate, which the Penitent found intensely frustrating. But tonight, with both the queen and Vhalnich at the Sworn Cathedral, he was betting that the infernai would be there, too, giving him at least temporary freedom of action in other matters.\n\nA few steps, and he was behind the guard. His right arm slipped up and over her shoulder, then down across her throat to stifle her cry, while his left slid a knife from its sheath and slipped it gently between her ribs. She bucked and twitched against him fora moment, then stilled, and he held her fora moment longer before withdrawing the blade and letting the corpse slip to the floor. He cleaned the weapon on her shirt, sheathed it, and took the keys from her belt." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The door had a small, barred window, and through it he could seethe prisoner was awake. Jane Verity's red hair was a tangle, her clothes in tatters. Her green eyes were bright, though red streaks suggested she'd been crying.\n\nThe closest lamp was several yards away, leaving the corridor thick with nice, dark shadows. Ionkovo slipped into one, submerging like a diver going underwater only to resurface a few feet away, inside the cell. He stepped out of a shadow on the wall, and Jane backed away, eyes widening.\n\n\"You're one of them,\" she said. \"The Penitent Damned.\"\n\n\"I am,\" Ionkovo said. He wasn't wearing his mask, but there wasn't much point in denying his identity now. \"You can call me Shade, if you like.\"\n\n\"Are you hereto kill me?\" Her eyes went briefly to the door, and he realized she'd seen him kill the guard.\n\nHe shook his head. \"I'm afraid we have need of you. Winter Ihernglass is an object of great curiosity to the pontifex, and I am assured that you know her best of all.\" And, he thought to himself, we need to salvage something out of this debacle. If you couldn't win a battle, the next best thing was to acquire advantages that might help you win the next time.\n\n\"I'm not going to tell you anything,\" Jane spit. She grinned, savagely, and spread her hands. \"If that's what you want, you might as well kill me now. If you can.\"\n\n\"I don't doubt your resolve,\" Ionkovo said. \"If my colleague the Liar were here, we could do this in situ, but I'm afraid he is inconveniently deceased. Thus, in order to get what I need, I will have to take you with me.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'm not going anywhere with you, either-\"\n\nIonkovo could move very fast when he had to. He'd drawn another knife, a tiny, thin one, little more than a needle, and held it flat against his side while they spoke. Now he whipped it across the cell, sinking it into Jane's neck just above her collar. She slapped at the little blade, knocking it away and leaving only a tiny cut. When she looked back at him, perplexed, he could seethe toxin was already taking effect. Her pupils widened, and she swayed on her feet.\n\n\"What...,\" she managed before collapsing in a boneless heap.\n\n\"Something we use at Elysium,\" he said. \"Transporting the demonically possessed can be hazardous, so we've developed a few useful techniques for handling prisoners. Sleep now.\"\n\nIonkovo waited another count of fifty, until he was sure Jane's eyes were closed and her breathing was slow and regular. Then he lifted her onto his shoulder, with some difficulty, and concentrated hard.\n\nHe couldn't bring other people with him into the shadows if they were awake; he suspected their will interfered with the clarity he needed for the process. With a great effort, he could force the door open wide enough to admit himself and an unconscious companion, though even a short trip would leave him drained and gasping. These days, he took care to drug his would-be passengers thoroughly. Once a young boy he'd been carrying had awoken while on the other side of the shadow, and the results had been unsettling, even to one like Ionkovo, who was hardened by years of service.\n\nBut Jane was out cold, and would be for some hours. Ionkovo exerted his will and drew aside the veil, stepping out the way he had come. He took the keys with him. It wasn't strictly necessary, but their absence, with the murdered guard, would make it look as if Jane had somehow escaped on her own. That would cause a bit of consternation, he judged." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Every little bit helps." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He grinned to himself, slipping through the endless dark." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "In partnership with the author, move the story forward.\nTags: fantasy, heist, theater\nAuthor: Scott Lynch\nTitle: The Republic of Thieves\nChapter: 2" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "PLACE TEN DOZEN hungry orphan thieves in a dank burrow of vaults and tunnels beneath what used to be a graveyard, put them under the supervision of one partly crippled old man, and you will soon find that governing them becomes a delicate business.\n\nThe Thiefmaker, skulking eminence of the orphan kingdom beneath Shades' Hill in old Camorr, was not yet so decrepit that any of his grimy little wards could hope to standalone against him. Nonetheless, he was alert to the doom that lurked in the clutching hands and wolfish impulses of a mob-a mob that he, through his training, was striving to make more predatory still with each passing day. The veneer of order that his life depended on was insubstantial as damp paper at the best of times.\n\nHis presence itself could enforce absolute obedience in a certain radius, of course. Wherever his voice could carry and his own senses seize upon misbehavior, his orphans were tame. But to keep his ragged company inline when he was drunk or asleep or hobbling around the city on business, it was essential that he make them eager partners in their own subjugation.\n\nHe molded most of the biggest, oldest boys and girls in Shades' Hill into a sort of honor guard, granting them shoddy privileges and stray scraps of near-respect. More important, he worked hard to keep every single one of them inconstant deadly terror of himself. No failure was ever met with anything but pain or the promise of pain, and the seriously insubordinate had away of vanishing. Nobody had any illusions that they had gone to a better place.\n\nSo he ensured that his chosen few, steeped in fear, had no outlet save to vent their frustrations (and thus enforce equivalent fear) upon the next oldest and largest set of children. These in turn would oppress the next weakest class of victim. Step by step the misery was shared out, and the Thiefmaker's authority would cascade like a geological pressure out to the meekest edges of his orphan mass." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was an admirable system, considered in itself, unless of course you happened to be part of that outer edge-the small, the eccentric, the friendless. In their case, life in Shades' Hill was like a boot to the face at every hour of everyday.\n\nLocke Lamora was five or six or seven years old. Nobody knew for certain, or cared to know. He was unusually small, undeniably eccentric, and perpetually friendless. Even when he shuffled along inside a great smelly mass of orphans, one among dozens, he walked alone and he damn well knew it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "MEETING TIME. A bad time under the Hill. The shifting stream of orphans surrounded Locke like an unfamiliar forest, concealing trouble everywhere.\n\nThe first rule to surviving in this state was to avoid attention. As the murmuring army of orphans headed toward the great vault at the center of Shades' Hill, where the Thiefmaker had called them, Locke flicked his glance left and right. The trick was to spot known bullies at a safe distance without making actual eye contact (nothing worse, the mistake of mistakes) and then, ever so casually, move to place neutral children between himself and each threat until it passed.\n\nThe second rule was to avoid responding when the first rule proved insufficient, as it too often did.\n\nThe crowd parted behind him. Like all prey animals, Locke had a honed instinct for approaching harm. He had enough time to wince preemptively, and then came the blow, sharp and hard, right between his shoulder blades. Locke smacked into the tunnel wall and barely managed to stay on his feet.\n\nFamiliar laughter followed the blow. It was Gregor Foss, years older and two stone heavier, as far beyond Locke's powers of reprisal as the duke of Camorr.\n\n\"Gods, Lamora, what a weak and clumsy little cuss you are.\" Gregor put a hand on the back of Locke's head and pushed him along, still in full contact with the moist dirt wall, until his forehead bounced painfully off one of the old wooden tunnel supports. \"Got no strength to stay on your own feet. Hell, if you tried to bugger a cockroach, the roach'd spin you round and do you up the ass instead.\"\n\nEveryone nearby laughed, a few from genuine amusement, the rest from fear of being seen not laughing. Locke kept stumbling forward, seething but silent, as though it were a perfectly natural state of affairs to have a face covered with dirt and a throbbing bump on the forehead. Gregor shoved him once more, but without vigor, then snorted and pushed ahead through the crowd." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Play dead. Pretend not to care. That was the way to keep a few moments of humiliation from becoming hours or days of pain, to keep bruises from becoming broken bones or worse.\n\nThe river of orphans was flowing to a rare grand gathering, nearly all the Hill, and in the main vault the air was already heavier and staler than usual. The Thiefmaker satin his high-backed chair, his head barely visible above the press of children, while his oldest subjects carved paths through the crowd to take their accustomed places near him. Locke sought afar wall and pressed up against it, doing his best impression of a shadow. There, with the welcome comfort of a guarded back, he touched his forehead and indulged in a momentary pout. His fingers were slippery with blood when he took them away.\n\nAfter a few moments, the influx of orphans trickled to a halt, and the Thiefmaker cleared his throat.\n\nIt was a Penance Day in the seventy-seventh Year of Sendovani, a hanging day, and outside the dingy caves below Shades'Hill the duke of Camorr's people were knotting nooses under a bright spring sky." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"IT'S LAMENTABLE business,\" said the Thiefmaker. \"That's what it is. To have some of our own brothers and sisters snatched into the unforgiving arms of the duke's justice. Damned deplorable that they were slackards enough to get caught! Alas. As I have always been at pains to remind you, loves, ours is a delicate trade, not at all appreciated by those we practice upon.\"\n\nLocke wiped the dirt from his face. It was likely that his tunic sleeve deposited more grime than it removed, but the ritual of putting himself in order was calming. While he tended to himself the master of the Hill spoke on.\n\n\"Sad day, my loves, a proper tragedy. But when the milk's gone bad you might as well look forward to cheese, hmm? Oh yes! Opportunity! It's unseasonal fine hanging weather out there. That means crowds with spending purses, and their eyes are going to be fixed on the spectacle, aren't they?\"\n\nWith two crooked fingers (broken of old, and badly healed) he did a pantomime of a man stepping off an edge and plunging forward. At the end of the plunge the fingers kicked spasmodically and some of the older children giggled. Someone in the middle of the orphan army sobbed, but the Thiefmaker paid them no heed.\n\n\"You're all going out to watch the hangings in groups,\" he said. \" Let this put fear into your hearts, loves! Indiscretion, clumsiness, want of confidence-today you'll see their only possible reward. To live the life the gods have given you, you must clutch wisely, then run. Run like the hounds of hell on a sinner's scent! That's how we dodge the noose. Today you'll have a last look at some friends who could not." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"And before you return,\" he said, lowering his voice, \"each of you will do them one better." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Fetch back a nice bit of coin or flash, at all hazards. Empty hands get empty bellies.\"\n\n\"Has we gots to?\"\n\nThe voice was a desperate whine. Locke identified the source as Tam, afresh catch, a lowest-of-the-low teaser who'd barely begun to learn the Shades\" Hill life. He must have been the one sobbing, too.\n\n\"Tam, my lamb, you gots to do nothing,\" said the Thiefmaker in a voice like moldy velvet. He reached out and sifted through the crowd of orphans, parting them like dirty stalks of wheat until his hand rested on Tam's shaven scalp. \"But then, neither do I if you don't work, right? By all means, remove yourself from this grand excursion. A limitless supply of cold graveyard dirt awaits you for supper.\"\n\n\"But... can't I, like, do something else?\"\n\n\"Why, you could polish my good silver tea service, if only I had one.\" The Thiefmaker knelt, vanishing briefly from Locke's sight. \"Tam, this is the job I got, so it's the job you're gonna do, right? Good lad. Stout lad. Why the little rivers from the eyes? Is it just'cause there's the hangings involved?\"\n\n\"They-they was our friends.\"\n\n\"Which means only-\"\n\n\"Tam, you little piss-rag, stuff your whining up your stupid ass!\"\n\nThe Thiefmaker whirled, and the new speaker recoiled from a slap to the side of his head. There was a ripple in the close-packed orphans as the unfortunate target stumbled backward and was returned to his feet by shoves from his tittering friends. Locke couldn't suppress a smile. It always warmed his heart to see a bullying oldster knocked around." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Veslin,\" said the Thiefmaker with dangerous good cheer, \"do you enjoy being interrupted?\"\n\n\"N-no... no, sir.\"\n\n\"How pleased I am to find us of alike mind on the subject.\"\n\n\"Of... course. Apologies, sir.\"\n\nThe Thiefmaker's eyes returned to Tam, and his smile, which had evaporated like steam in sunlight a moment before, leapt back into place.\n\n\"As I was saying about our friends, our lamented friends. It's a shame. But isn't it a grand show they're putting on for us as they dangle? A ripe plum of a crowd they're summoning up? What sort of friends would we be if we refused to work such an opportunity? Good ones? Bold ones?\"\n\n\"No, sir,\" mumbled Tam.\n\n\"Indeed. Neither good nor bold. So we're going to seize this chance, right? And we're going to do them the honor of not looking away when they drop, aren't we?\"\n\n\"If... if you say so, sir.\"\n\n\"I do say so.\" The Thiefmaker gave Tam a perfunctory pat on the shoulder. \"Get to it. Drops start at high noon; the Masters of the Ropes are the only punctual creatures in this bloody city. Be late to your places and you'll have to work ten times as hard, I promise you. Minders! Call your teasers and clutchers. Keep our fresher brothers and sisters on short leashes.\"\n\nAs the orphans dispersed and the older children called the names of their assigned partners and subordinates, the Thiefmaker dragged Veslin over to one of the enclosure's dirt walls fora private word.\n\nLocke snickered, and wondered whom he'd be partnered with for the day's adventure. Outside the Hill there were pockets to be picked, tricks to be played, bold larceny to be done. Though he realized his sheer enthusiasm for theft was part of what had made him a curiosity and an outcast, he had no more self-restraint in that regard than he had wings on his back." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This half-life of abuse beneath Shades'Hill was just something he had to endure between those bright moments when he could beat work, heart pounding, running fast and hard for safety with someone else's valuables clutched in his hands. As far as his five or six or seven years had taught him, ripping people off was the greatest feeling in the whole world, and the only real freedom he had." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"THINK YOU can improve upon my leadership now, boy?\" Despite his limited grip, the Thiefmaker still had the arms of a grown man, and he pinned Veslin against the dirt wall like a carpenter about to nail up a decoration. \"Think I need your wit and wisdom when I'm talking out loud?\"\n\n\"No, your honor! Forgive me!\"\n\n\"Veslin, jewel, don't I always?\" With a falsely casual gesture, the Thiefmaker brushed aside one lapel of his threadbare coat and revealed the handle of the butcher's cleaver he kept hanging from his belt. The faintest hint of blade gleamed in the darkness behind it. \"I forgive. I remind. Are you reminded, boy? Most thoroughly reminded?\"\n\n\"Indeed, sir, yes. Please...\"\n\n\"Marvelous.\" The Thiefmaker released Veslin, and allowed his coat to fall over his weapon once again. \"What a happy conclusion for us both, then.\"\n\n\"Thank you, sir. Sorry. It's just... Tam's been whining all gods-damned morning. He's never seen anyone get the rope.\"\n\n\"Once upon a time it was new to us all,\" sighed the Thiefmaker. \"Let the boy cry, so long as he plucks a purse. If he won't, hunger's a marvelous instructor. Still, I'm putting him and a couple other problems into a group for special oversight.\"\n\n\"Problems?\"\n\n\"Tam, for his delicacy. And No-Teeth.\"\n\n\"Gods,\" said Veslin.\n\n\"Yes, yes, the speck-brained little turd is so dim he couldn't shit in his hands if they were stitched to his asshole. Nonetheless, him. Tam. And one more.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Thiefmaker cast a significant glance at afar corner, where a sullen little boy leaned with his arms folded across his chest, watching other orphans form their assigned packs.\n\n\"Lamora,\" whispered Veslin.\n\n\"Special oversight.\" The Thiefmaker chewed nervously at the nails of his left hand. \"There's good money to be squeezed out of that one, if he's got someone keeping him sensible and discreet.\"\n\n\"He nearly burnt up half the bloody city, sir.\"\n\n\"Only the Narrows, which mightn't have been missed. And he took hard punishment for that without a flinch. I consider the matter closed. What he needs is a responsible sort to keep him in check.\"\n\nVeslin was unable to conceal his expression of disgust, and the Thiefmaker smirked.\n\n\"Not you, lad. I need you and your little ape Gregor on distraction detail. Someone else gets made, you cover for 'em. And get back tome straightaway if anyone gets taken.\"\n\n\"Grateful, sir, very grateful.\"\n\n\"You should be. Sobbing Tam... witless No-Teeth... and one of hell's own devils in knee-breeches. I need a bright candle to watch that crew. Go wake me up one of the Windows bunch.\"\n\n\"Oh.\" Veslin bit his cheek. The Windows crew, so called because they specialized in traditional burglary, were the true elite among the orphans of Shades'Hill. They were spared most chores, habitually worked in darkness, and were allowed to sleep well past noon. \"They won't like that.\"\n\n\"I don't give a damn what they like. They don't have a job this evening anyway. Get me a sharp one.\" The Thiefmaker spat out a gnawed crescent of dirty fingernail and wiped his fingers on his coat. \"Hell, fetch me Sabetha.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"LAMORA!\"\n\nThe summons came at last, and from the Thiefmaker himself. Locke padded warily across the dirt floor to where the master of the Hill sat whispering instructions to a taller child whose back was turned to Locke.\n\nWaiting before the Thiefmaker were two other boys. One was Tam. The other was No-Teeth, a hapless twit whose beatings at the hands of older children had eventually given him his nickname. A sense of foreboding scuttled into Locke's gut.\n\n\"Here we are, then,\" said the Thiefmaker. \"Three bold and likely lads. You'll be working together on a special detail, under special authority. Meet your minder.\"\n\nThe taller child turned.\n\nShe was dirty, as they all were, and though it was hard to tell by the pale silver light of the vault's alchemical lanterns, she looked a little tired. She wore scuffed brown breeches, along baggy tunic that at some distant remove had been white, and a leather flat cap over a tight kerchief, so that not a strand of her hair was visible.\n\nYet she was undeniably a she. For the first time in Locke's life some unpracticed animal sense crept dimly to life to alert him to this fact. The Hill was full of girls, but never before had Locke dwelt on the thought of a girl. He sucked in a breath and realized that he could feel a nervous tingling at the tips of his fingers.\n\nShe had the advantage of at least a year and a good half-foot on him, and even tired she had that unfeigned natural poise which, in certain girls, makes young boys feel like something on the order of an insect beneath a heel. Locke had neither the eloquence nor the experience to grapple with the situation in anything resembling those terms. All he knew was that near her, of all the girls he'd seen in Shades\" Hill, he felt touched by something mysterious and much vaster than himself." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He felt like jumping up and down. He felt like throwing up.\n\nSuddenly he resented the presence of Tam and No-Teeth, resented the implication of the word'minder,\" and yearned to be doing something, anything, to impress this girl. His cheeks burned at the thought of how the bump on his forehead must look, and at being teamed up with two useless, sobbing clods.\n\n\"This is Beth,\" said the Thiefmaker. \"She's got your keeping today, lads. Take what she says as though it came from me. Steady hands, level heads. No slacking and no gods-damned capers. Last thing we need is you getting ambitious.\" It was impossible to miss the icy glance the Thiefmaker spared for Locke as he uttered this last part.\n\n\"Thank you very much, sir,\" said Beth with nothing resembling actual gratitude. She pushed Tam and No-Teeth toward one of the vault exits. \"You two, wait at the entrance. I need to have a private word with your friend here.\"\n\nLocke was startled. A word with him? Had she guessed that he knew his way around clutching and teasing, that he was nothing like the other two? Beth glanced around, then put her hands on his shoulders and knelt. Some nervous animal in Locke's guts turned somersaults as her gaze came level with his. The old compunction about refusing eye contact was not merely set aside, but vaporized from his mind.\n\nTwo things happened then.\n\nFirst, he fell in love-though it would be years before he realized what the feeling was called and how thoroughly it was going to complicate his life.\n\nSecond, she spoke directly to him for the first time, and he would remember her words with a clarity that would jar his heart long after the other incidents of that time had faded to a haze of half-truths in his memory:" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You're the Lamora boy, right?\"\n\nHe nodded eagerly.\n\n\"Well, look here, you little shit. I've heard all about you, so just shut your mouth and keep those reckless hands in your pockets. I swear to all the gods, if you give me one hint of trouble, I will heave you off abridge and it will look like a bloody accident.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "IT WAS an unwelcome thing, to suddenly feel half an inch tall.\n\nLocke dazedly followed Beth, Tam, and No-Teeth out of the darkness of the Shades' Hill vaults and into the late-morning sunshine. His eyes stung, and the daylight was only part of it. What had he done (and who had told her about it?) to earn the scorn of the one person he now wanted to impress more than any other in the world?\n\nPondering, his thoughts wandered uneasily to his surroundings. Out herein the ever-changing open there was so much to see, so much to hear. His survival instincts gradually took hold. The back of his mind was all for Beth, but he forced his eyes to the present situation.\n\nCamorr today was bright and busy, making the most of its reprieve from the hard gray rains of spring. Windows were thrown open. The more prosperous crowds had molted, shedding their oilcloaks and cowls in favor of summery dress. The poor stayed wrapped in the same reek-soaked dross they wore in all seasons. Like the Shades' Hill crowd, they had to keep their clothes on their backs or risk losing them to rag-pickers.\n\nAs the four orphans crossed the canal bridge from Shades' Hill to the Narrows (it was a source of mingled pride and incredulity to Locke that the Thiefmaker was so convinced that one little scheme of his could have burnt this whole neighborhood down), Locke saw at least three boats of corpse-fishers using hooks to pluck bloated bodies from under wharves and dock pilings. Those would sometimes go ignored for days in cool, foul weather.\n\nBeth led the three boys through the Narrows, dodging up stone stairs and across rickety wooden foot-bridges, avoiding the most cramped and twisted alleys where drunks, stray dogs, and less obvious dangers were sure to lurk. Tam and Locke stayed right behind her, but No-Teeth was constantly veering off or slowing down. By the time they left the Narrows and crossed to the overgrown garden passages of the Mara Camorrazza, the city's ancient strolling park, Beth was dragging No-Teeth by his collar." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Damn your pimple of a brain,\" she said. \"Keep to my heels and quit making trouble!\"\n\n\"Not making trouble,\" muttered No-Teeth.\n\n\"You want to cock this up and go hungry tonight? You want to give some brute like Veslin an excuse to pry out any teeth he hasn't got to yet?\"\n\n\"Nooooooo.\" No-Teeth stretched the word outwith a bored yawn, looked around as though noticing the world for the first time, then jerked free of Beth's grip. \"I want to wear your hat,\" he said, pointing at her leather cap.\n\nLocke swallowed nervously. He'd seen No-Teeth pitch these sudden, unreasonable fits before. There was something not quite right in the boy's head. He frequently suffered for calling attention to himself inside the Hill, where distinctiveness without strength meant pain.\n\n\"You can't,\" said Beth. \"Mind yourself.\"\n\n\"I want to. I want to!\" No-Teeth actually stomped the ground and balled his fists. \"I promise I'll behave. Give me your hat!\"\n\n\"You'll behave because I say so!\"\n\nNo-Teeth's response was to lunge and snatch the leather cap off Beth's head. He yanked it so hard that her kerchief came as well, and an untidy spray of reddish-brown curls tumbled to her shoulders. Locke's jaw fell.\n\nThere was something so indefinably lovely, so right, about seeing that hair free in the sunlight that he momentarily forgot that his enchantment was expressly one-way, and that this was anything but convenient for their task. As Locke stared he noticed that only the lower portion of her hair was actually brown. Above the ears it was rusty red. She'd had it colored once, and it had grown out since." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Beth was even faster than No-Teeth once her shock wore off, and before he could do anything with her cap it was back in her hands. She slapped him viciously across the face with it.\n\n\"Ow!\"\n\nNot placated, she hit him again, and he cringed backward. Locke recovered his wits and assumed the vacant expression used inside the Hill by the uninvolved when someone nearby was getting thrashed.\n\n\"Stop! Stop!\" No-Teeth sobbed.\n\n\"If you ever touch this cap again,\" Beth whispered, shaking him by his collar, \"I swear to Aza Guilla who numbers the dead that I will deliver you straight to her. You stupid little ass!\"\n\n\"I promise! I promise!\"\n\nShe released him with a scowl, and with a few deft movements made her red curls vanish again beneath the tightly drawn kerchief. When the leather cap came down to seal them in, Locke felt a pang of disappointment.\n\n\"You're lucky nobody else saw,\" said Beth, shoving No-Teeth forward. \"Gods love you, you little slug, you're just lucky nobody else saw. Quick, now. At my heel, you two.\"\n\nLocke and Tam followed her without a word, as close as nervous ducklings fixed on a mother's tail feathers.\n\nLocke shook with excitement. He'd been horrified at the incompetence of his assigned partners, but now he wondered if their problems could do anything but make him look better in Beth's eyes. Oh yes. Let them whine, let them throw fits, let them go home with nothing in their hands. Hell, let them tip off the city watch and get chased through the streets to the sounds of whistles and baying dogs. She'd have to prefer anything to that, including him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "THEY EMERGED at last from the Mara Camorrazza into a whirl of noise and confusion.\n\nIt was indeed unseasonably fine hanging weather, and the normally dreary neighborhood around the Old Citadel, the duke's seat of justice, bustled like a carnival. Common folk were thick on the cobblestones, while here and there the carriages of the wealthy rattled through the mess with hired guards trotting alongside, passing out threats and shoves as they went. In someways, Locke already knew, the world outside the Hill was much like the world within.\n\nThe four orphans formed a human chain to thread their way through the tumult. Locke held fast to Tam, who clung in turn to Beth. She was so unwilling to lose sight of No-Teeth that she thrust him before them all like a battering ram. From his perspective Locke glimpsed few adult faces; the world became an endless procession of belts, bellies, coattails, and carriage wheels. They made their way west by equal parts luck and perseverance, toward the Via Justica, the canal that had been used for hangings for half a thousand years.\n\nAt the edge of the canal embankment a low stonewall prevented a direct plunge to the water seven or eight feet below. This barrier was crumbling but still solid enough for children to sit upon. Beth never once loosened her grip on No-Teeth as she helped Locke and Tam up out of the press of the crowd. Locke scrambled to sit next to Beth, but it was Tam that squeezed up against her, leaving Locke no means to move him without causing a scene. He tried to conceal his annoyance by adopting a purposeful expression and looking around.\n\nFrom here, at least, Locke had a better view of the affair. There were crowds on both sides of the canal and vendors hawking bread, sausages, ale, and souvenirs from boats. They used baskets attached to poles to collect their coins and deliver goods to those standing above." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Locke could make out groups of small shapes dodging through the forest of coats and legs-fellow Shades' Hill orphans at work. He could also seethe dark yellow jackets of the city watch, moving through the crowd in squads with shields slung over their backs. Disaster was possible if these opposing elements met and mixed like bad alchemy, but as yet there were no shouts, no watch-whistles, no signs of anything amiss.\n\nTraffic had been stopped over the Black Bridge. The lamps that dotted the looming stone arch were covered with black shrouds, and a small crowd of priests, prisoners, guards, and ducal officials stood behind the execution platform that jutted from the bridge's side. Two boats of yellowjackets had anchored in the canal on either side of the bridge to keep the water beneath the dropping prisoners clear.\n\n\"Don't we has to do our business?\" said No-Teeth. \"Don't we has to get a purse, or a ring, or something-\"\n\nBeth, who'd taken her hands off him for all of half a minute, now seized him again and whispered harshly, \"Keep your mouth shut about that while we're in the crowd. Mouth shut! We're going to sit here and be mindful. We'll work after the hanging.\"\n\nTam shuddered and looked more miserable than ever. Locke sighed, confused and impatient. It was sad that some of their Shades'Hill fellows had to hang, but then it was sad they'd been caught by the yellowjackets in the first place. People died everywhere in Camorr, in alleys and canals and public houses, in fires, in plagues that scythed down whole neighborhoods. Tam was an orphan too; hadn't he realized all this? Dying seemed nearly as ordinary to Locke as eating supper or making water, and he was unable to make himself feel bad that it was happening to anyone he'd barely known." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As for that, it looked to be happening soon. A steady drumbeat rose from the bridge, echoing off water and stone, and gradually the excited murmur of the crowds dropped off. Not even divine services could make Camorri so respectfully attentive as a public neck-snapping.\n\n\"Loyal citizens of Camorr! Now comes noon, this seventeenth instant, this month of Tirastim in our seventy-seventh Year of Sendovani.\" These words were shouted from atop the Black Bridge by a huge-bellied herald in sable plumage. \"These felons have been found guilty of capital crimes against the law and customs of Camorr. By the authority of his grace, Duke Nicovante, and by the seals of his honorable magistrates of the Red Chamber, they are here brought to receive justice.\"\n\nThere was movement beside him on the bridge. Seven prisoners were hauled forward, each by a pair of scarlet-hooded constables. Locke saw that Tam was anxiously biting his knuckles. Beth's arm appeared around Tam's shoulder, and Locke ground his teeth together. He was doing his job, behaving, refusing to make a spectacle of himself, and Tam was the one that received Beth's tenderness?\n\n\"You get used to it, Tam,\" Beth said softly. \"Honor them, now. Brace up.\"\n\nOn the bridge platform the Masters of the Ropes tightened nooses around the necks of the condemned. The hanging ropes were about as long as each prisoner was tall, and lashed to ringbolts just behind each prisoner's feet. There were no clever mechanisms in the hanging platform, no fancy tricks. This wasn't Tal Verrar. Herein the east, prisoners were simply heaved over the edge.\n\n\"Jerevin Tavasti,\" shouted the herald, consulting a parchment. \"Arson, conspiracy to receive stolen goods, assault upon a duke's officer! Malina Contada, counterfeiting and attendant misuse of His Grace the Duke's name and image. Caio Vespasi, burglary, malicious mummery, arson, and horse theft! Lorio Vespasi, conspiracy to receive stolen goods.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "So much for the adults; the herald moved onto the three children." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Tam sobbed, and Beth whispered, \"Shhhh, now.\" Locke noted that Beth was coldly calm, and he tried to imitate her air of disinterest. Eyes just so, chin up, mouth just shy of a frown. Surely, if she glanced at him during the ceremony, she'd notice and approve....\n\n\"Mariabella, no surname,\" yelled the herald. \"Theft and wanton disobedience! Zilda, no surname. Theft and wanton disobedience!\"\n\nThe Masters were tying extra weights to the legs of this last trio of prisoners, since their own slight bodies might not provide fora swift enough conclusion at the ends of their plunges.\n\n\"Lars, no surname. Theft and wanton disobedience.\"\n\n\"Zilda was kind tome,\" whispered Tam, his voice breaking.\n\n\"The gods know it,\" said Beth. \"Hush now.\"\n\n\"For crimes of the body you shall suffer death of the body,\" continued the herald. \"You will be suspended above running water and hanged thereby the necks until dead, your unquiet spirits to be carried forth upon the water to the Iron Sea, where they may do no further harm to any soul or habitation of the duke's domain. May the gods receive your souls mercifully, in good time.\" The herald lowered his scroll and faced the prisoners. \"In the duke's name I give you justice.\"\n\nDrums rolled. One of the Masters of the Ropes drew a sword, in case any of the prisoners fought their handlers. Locke had seen a hanging before, and he knew the condemned only got one chance at whatever dignity was left to them.\n\nToday the drops ran smooth. The drumroll crashed to silence. Each pair of hooded yellowjackets stepped forward and shoved their prisoner off the edge of the hanging platform." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Tam flinched away, as Locke had thought he might, but even he was unprepared for No-Teeth's reaction when the seven ropes jerked taut with snapping noises that might have been hemp, or necks, or both.\n\n\"Ahhhhhhh! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!\"\n\nEach scream was longer and louder than the last. Beth clamped a handover No-Teeth's mouth and struggled with him. Over the water, four large bodies and three smaller ones swung like pendulums in arcs that quickly grew smaller and smaller.\n\nLocke's heart pounded. Everyone nearby had to be staring at them. He heard chuckling and disapproving comments. The more attention they drew to themselves, the harder it would be to go about their real business.\n\n\"Shhh,\" said Beth, straining to keep No-Teeth under control. \"Quiet, damn you. Quiet!\"\n\n\"What's the matter, girl?\"\n\nLocke was dismayed to see that a pair of yellowjackets had parted the crowd just behind them. Gods, that was worse than anything! What if they were prowling for Shades' Hill orphans? What if they asked hard questions? He curbed an impulse to leap for the water below and froze in place, eyes wide.\n\nBeth kept an arm locked over No-Teeth's face yet managed to somehow squirm around and bow her head to the constables.\n\n\"My little brother,\" she gasped out, \"he's never seen a hanging before. We don't mean to cause a fuss. I've shut him up.\"\n\nNo-Teeth ceased his struggles, but he began to sob. The yellowjacket who'd spoken, a middle-aged man with a face full of scars, looked down at him with distaste." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You four come here alone?\"\n\n\"Mother sent us,\" said Beth. \"Wanted the boys to see a hanging. Seethe rewards of idleness and bad company.\"\n\n\"Aright-thinking woman. Nothing like a good hanging to scare the mischief out of a sprat.\" The man frowned. \"Why ain't she herewith you?\"\n\n\"Oh, she loves a hanging, does Mother,\" said Beth. Then, lowering her voice to a whisper: \"But, um, she's got the flux. Bad. All day she's been sitting on her-\"\n\n\"Ah. Well, then.\" The yellowjacket coughed. \"Gods send her good health. You'd best not bring this one back to a Penance Day ceremony fora while.\"\n\n\"I agree, sir.\" Beth bowed again. \"Mother'll scratch his hide for this.\"\n\n\"On your way, then, girl. Don't need no more of a scene.\"\n\n\"Of course, sir.\"\n\nThe constables moved away into the crowd, which was itself coming back to life. Beth slid off the stonewall, rather gracelessly, because No-Teeth and Tam came with her. The former was still held tightly, and the latter refused to let goof her other arm. He hadn't cried out like No-Teeth, but Locke saw that his eyes brimmed with tears and he was even more pale-looking than before. Locke ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth, which had gone dry under the scrutiny of the yellowjackets.\n\n\"Come now,\" said Beth. \"Away from here. We've seen all there is to see.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "ANOTHER PASSAGE through the forest of coats, legs, and bellies. Locke, feeling excitement rise again, gently clung to the back of Beth's tunic to avoid losing her, and he was both pleased and disappointed when she didn't react at all. Beth led them back into the green shadows of the Mara Camorrazza, where quiet solitude reigned not forty yards from a crowd of hundreds, and once they were safely ensconced in a concealed nook she pushed Tam and No-Teeth to the ground.\n\n\"What if another bunch from the Hill saw that? Gods!\"\n\n\"Sorry,\" moaned No-Teeth. \"But they... but they... they got kill-\"\n\n\"People die when they get hanged. It's why they hang them!\" Beth wrung the front of her tunic with both hands, then took a deep breath. \"Recover yourselves. Now. Each of you must lift a purse, or something, before we go back.\"\n\nNo-Teeth broke into anew fit of sobs, rolled over on his side, and chewed his knuckles. Tam, sounding more weary than Locke would have imagined possible, said, \"I can't, Beth. I'm sorry. I'll get caught. I just can't.\"\n\n\"You'll go without supper tonight.\"\n\n\"Fine,\" said Tam. \"Take me back, please.\"\n\n\"Damn it.\" Beth rubbed her eyes. \"I need to bring you back with something to show for it or I'll be in just as much trouble as you, understand?\"\n\n\"You're in Windows,\" muttered Tam. \"You got no worries.\"\n\n\"If only,\" said Beth. \"You two need to pull yourselves together-\"\n\n\"I can't, I can't, I can't!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Locke sensed a glorious opportunity. Beth had saved them from trouble on the embankment, and here was an ideal moment for him to do the same. Smiling at the thought of her reaction, he stood as tall as he could manage and cleared his throat.\n\n\"Tam, don't be a louse,\" said Beth, completely ignoring Locke. \"You will clutch something, or work a tease so someone else can clutch. I'll not give you another choice-\"\n\n\"Excuse me,\" said Locke, hesitantly.\n\n\"What do you want?\"\n\n\"They can each have one of mine,\" said Locke.\n\n\"What?\" Beth turned to him. \"What are you talking about?\"\n\nFrom under his tunic, Locke produced two leather purses and a fine silk handkerchief, only mildly stained.\n\n\"Three pieces,\" he said. \"Three of us. Just say we all clutched one and we can go home now.\"\n\n\"Wherein all the hells did you-\"\n\n\"In the crowd,\" said Locke. \"You had No-Teeth... you were paying so much attention to him, you must not have seen.\"\n\n\"I didn't tell you to lift anything yet!\"\n\n\"Well, you didn't tell me not to.\"\n\n\"But that's-\"\n\n\"I can't put them back,\" said Locke, far more petulantly than he'd intended.\n\n\"Don't snap at me! Oh, for the gods\" sake, don't sulk,\" said Beth. She knelt and put her hands on Locke's shoulders, and at her touch and close regard he found himself suddenly trembling uncontrollably. \"What is it? What's the matter?\"\n\n\"Nothing,\" said Locke. \"Nothing.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Gods, what a strange little boy you are.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She glanced again at Tam and No-Teeth. \"A pack of disasters, the three of you. Two that won't work. One that works without orders. I suppose we've got no choice.\"\n\nBeth took the purses and the handkerchief from Locke. Her fingers brushed his, and he trembled. Beth's eyes narrowed.\n\n\"Hit your head earlier?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Who pushed you?\"\n\n\"I just fell.\"\n\n\"Of course you did.\"\n\n\"Honest!\"\n\n\"Seems to be troubling you. Or maybe you're ill. You're shaking.\"\n\n\"I'm... I'm fine.\"\n\n\"Have it your way.\" Beth closed her eyes and massaged them with her fingertips. \"I guess you've saved me a hell of a lot of trouble. Do you want me to... look, is there someone bothering you that you want to stop?\"\n\nLocke was startled. An older child, this older child, of all people, and a member of Windows, was offering him protection? Could she do that? Could she put Veslin and Gregor in their place?\n\nNo. Locke forced his eyes away from Beth's utterly fascinating face to bring himself back down to earth. There would always be other Veslins, other Gregors. And what if they resented him all the more for her interference? She was Windows; he was Streets. Their days and nights were reversed. He'd never seen her before today; what sort of protection could he possibly get from her? He would keep playing dead. Avoid calling attention to himself. Rule one, and rule two. As always.\n\n\"I just fell,\" he said. \"I'm fine.\"\n\n\"Well,\" she replied, a little coldly. \"As you wish.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Locke opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying desperately to imagine something he might say to charm this alien creature." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Too late. She turned away and heaved Tam and No-Teeth to their feet.\n\n\"I don't believe it,\" she said, \"but you two idiots owe your supper to the arsonist of the Narrows here. Do you understand just how much hell we'll all catch if you ever breathe a word of this to anyone?\"\n\n\"I do,\" said Tam.\n\n\"I'd be very putout to catch any at all,\" Beth continued. \"Any at all! You hear me, No-Teeth?\"\n\nThe poor wretch nodded, then sucked his knuckles again.\n\n\"Back to the Hill, then.\" Beth tugged at her kerchief and adjusted her cap. \"I'll keep the things and pass them to the master myself. Not a word about this. To anyone.\"\n\nShe kept her now-customary grip on No-Teeth all the way back to the graveyard. Tam dogged her heels, looking exhausted but relieved. Locke followed at the rear, scheming to the fullest extent of his totally inadequate experience. What had he said or done wrong? What had he misjudged? Why wasn't she delighted with him for saving her so much trouble?\n\nShe said nothing to him for the rest of the trip home. Then, before he could find an excuse to speak to her again once there, she was gone, vanished into the tunnels that led to the private domain of the Windows crew, where he could not follow.\n\nHe sulked that night, eating little of the supper his nimble fingers had earned, fuming not at Beth but at himself for somehow driving her away." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "DAYS PASSED, longer days than any Locke had ever known, now that he had something to preoccupy him beyond the brief excitement of daily crimes and the constant chores of survival.\n\nBeth would not leave his thoughts. He dreamed of her, and how the hair spilling out from beneath her cap had caught the light filtering down through the interlaced greenery of the Mara Camorrazza. Strangely, in his dreams, that hair was purely red from edge to root, untouched by dye or disguise. The price for these visions was that he would wake to cold, hard disappointment and lie therein the dark, wrestling with mysterious emotions that had never troubled him before.\n\nHe would have to see her again. Somehow.\n\nAt first he nurtured a hope that his relegation to a crew of troublemakers might be permanent, that Beth might be their minder on an ongoing basis. Unfortunately, the Thiefmaker seemed to have no such plans. Locke slowly realized that if he was ever going to get another chance to impress her, he'd have to stick his neck out.\n\nIt was hard to break the routines he'd established for himself, to say nothing of those expected of someone in his lowly position. Yet he began to wander more often throughout the vaults and tunnels of his home, anxious fora glimpse of Beth, exposing himself to abuse and ridicule from bored older children. He played dead. He didn't react. Rule one and rule two. It almost felt good, earning bruises fora genuine purpose.\n\nThe lesser orphans of Streets (that is, nearly all of them) slept en masse on the floor of crèche-like side vaults, several dozen to a room. When his dreams woke him at night Locke would now try to stay awake, to strain his ears to hear past the murmuring and rustling of those around him, to detect the coming and going of the Windows crew on their secretive errands." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Before he'd always slept securely in the heart of his snoring fellows, or against a nice comforting wall. Now he risked positions at the outer edge of the huddled mass, where he could catch glimpses of people in the tunnels. Every shadow that passed and every step he heard might be hers, after all.\n\nHis successes were few. He saw her at evening meals several times, but she never spoke to him. Indeed, if she noticed him at all, she did a superb job of not showing it. And for Locke to try and speak to heron his own initiative, with her surrounded by her Windows friends, and they by the older bullies from Streets... no presumption could have been more fatal. So he did his feeble best to skulk and spy on her, relishing the fluttering of his stomach whenever he caught so much as a half-second glimpse. Those glimpses and those sensations paid for many days of frustrated longing.\n\nMore days, more weeks passed in the hazy forever now of childhood time. Those bright brief moments he'd spent in Beth's presence, actually speaking to her and being spoken to, were polished and re-polished in Locke's memory until his very life might have begun on that day.\n\nAt some point that spring, Tam died. Locke heard the mutterings. The boy was caught trying to lift a purse, and his would-be victim smashed his skull with a walking stick. This sort of thing wasn't uncommon. If the man had witnesses to the attempted theft he'd probably lose a finger on his weaker hand. If nobody backed his story, he'd hang. Camorr was civilized, after all; there were acceptable and unacceptable times for killing children.\n\nNo-Teeth went soon after that, crushed under a wagon wheel in broad daylight. Locke wondered if it wasn't all for the best. He and Tam had been miserable in the Hill, and maybe the gods could find something better to do with them. It wasn't Locke's concern anyway. He had his own obsession to pursue." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A few days after No-Teeth got it, Locke came home from along, wet afternoon of work in the North Corner district, casing and robbing vendor stalls at the well-to-do markets there. He shook the rain from his makeshift cloak, which was the same awful-smelling scrap of leather that served him as a blanket each night. Then he went to meet the crowd of oldsters, led by Veslin and Gregor, who shook down the smaller children each day as they came in with their takings.\n\nUsually they spent most of their energy taunting and threatening Locke's fellows, but today they were talking excitedly about something else. Locke caught snatches of the conversation as he waited his turn to be abused.\n\n\"... right unhappy he is about it... one of the big earners.\"\n\n\"I know she was, and didn't she put on airs about it, too.\"\n\n\"But that's all Windows for you, eh? Ain't they all like that? Well, here's something they won't like. Proves they's as mortal as we is. They fuck up just the same.\"\n\n\"Been aright messy month. That poor sod what got the busted head... that little shit we used to kick the chompers out of... now her.\"\n\nLocke felt a cold tautness in his guts.\n\n\"Who?\" he said.\n\nVeslin paused in mid-sentence and stared at Locke, as though startled that the little creatures of Streets had the power of speech.\n\n\"Who what, you little ass-tickler?\"\n\n\"Who are you talking about?\"\n\n\"Wouldn't you like to fucking know.\"\n\n\"WHO?\"\n\nLocke's hands had formed themselves into fists of their own accord, and his heart pounded as he yelled again at the top of his lungs, \"WHO?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Veslin only had to kick him once to knock him down. Locke saw it coming, saw the bully's foot rising toward his face, growing impossibly in size, and still he couldn't avoid it. Floor and ceiling reversed themselves, and when Locke could see again, he was on his back with Veslin's heel on his chest. Warm coppery blood was trickling down the back of his throat.\n\n\"Where does he get off, talking to us like that?\" said Veslin mildly.\n\n\"Dunno. Fuckin' sad, it is,\" said Gregor.\n\n\"Please,\" said Locke. \"Tell me-\"\n\n\"Tell you what? What right you got to know anything?\" Veslin knelt on Locke's chest, rifled through his clothes, and came up with the things he'd managed to clutch that day. Two purses, a silver necklace, a handkerchief, and some wooden tubes of Jereshti cosmetics. \"Know what, Gregor? I don't think I remember Lamora here coming home with anything tonight.\"\n\n\"Nor me, Ves.\"\n\n\"Yeah. How's that for sad, you little piss-pants? You want dinner, you can eat your own shit.\"\n\nLocke was too used to the sort of laughter that now rose in the tunnel to pay any attention to it. He tried to getup and was kicked in the throat for his trouble.\n\n\"I just want to know,\" he gasped, \"what happened-\"\n\n\"Why do you care?\"\n\n\"Please... please...\"\n\n\"Well, if you're gonna be civil about it.\" Veslin dropped Locke's takings into a dirty cloth sack. \"Windows had themselves a bad night.\"\n\n\"Cocked up proper, they did,\" said Gregor." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Got pinched hitting a big house. Not all of 'em got clear. Lost one in a canal.\"\n\n\"Who?\"\n\n\"Beth. Drowned, she did.\"\n\n\"You're lying,\" whispered Locke. \"YOU'RE LYING!\"\n\nVeslin kicked him in the side of his stomach and Locke writhed. \"Who says... who says she's-\"\n\n\"I fuckin' say.\"\n\n\"Who told you?\"\n\n\"I got a letter from the duke, you fuckin'half-wit. The master, that's who! Beth drowned last night. She ain't coming back to the Hill. You sweet on her or something? That's a laugh.\"\n\n\"Go to hell,\" whispered Locke. \"You go to-\"\n\nVeslin cut him off with another hard kick to the exact same spot.\n\n\"Gregor,\" he said, \"we got areal problem here. This one ain't right in the head. Forgot what he can and can't say to the likes of us.\"\n\n\"I got just the thing for it, Ves.\" Gregor kicked Locke between the legs. Locke's mouth opened, but nothing came out except a dry hiss of agony.\n\n\"Give it to the little shit-smear.\" Veslin grinned as he and Gregor began to work Locke over with hard kicks, carefully aimed. \"You like that, Lamora? You like what you get, you put on airs with us?\"\n\nOnly the Thiefmaker's proscription of outright murder among his orphans saved Locke's life. No doubt the boys would have pulped him if their own necks wouldn't have been the price of their amusement, and as it was they nearly went too far." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was two days before Locke could move well enough to work again, and in that interval, lacking friends to tend him, he was tormented by hunger and thirst. But he took no satisfaction in his recovery, and no joy in his return to work.\n\nHe was back to playing dead, back to hiding in corners, back to rule one and rule two. He was all alone in the Hill once again." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I CANNOT tell you now;\n\nWhen the wind's drive and whirl\n\nBlow me along no longer,\n\nAnd the wind's a whisper at last-\n\nMaybe I'll tell you then-\n\nsome other time.\n\n-Carl Sandburg\n\nfrom'The Great Hunt\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "WEAK SUNLIGHT AGAINST his eyelids drew him out of sleep. The brightness intruded, grew, made him blink groggily. A window was open, letting in mild afternoon air and a freshwater smell. Not Camorr. Sound of waves lapping against a sand beach. Not Camorr at all.\n\nHe was tangled in his sheets again, light-headed. The roof of his mouth felt like sun-dried leather. Chapped lips peeled apart as he croaked, \"What are you...\"\n\n\"Shhhh. I didn't mean to wake you. The room needed some air.\" A dark blur on the left, more or less Jean's height. The floor creaked as the shape moved about. Soft rustle of fabric, snap of a coin purse, clink of metal. Locke pushed himself upon his elbows, prepared for the dizziness. It came on punctually.\n\n\"I was dreaming about her,\" he muttered. \"The times that we... when we first met.\"\n\n\"Her?\"\n\n\"Her. You know.\"\n\n\"Ah. The canonical her.\" Jean knelt beside the bed and held out a cup of water, which Locke took in his shaking left hand and sipped at gratefully. The world was slowly coming into focus.\n\n\"So vivid,\" said Locke. \"Thought I could touch her. Tell her... how sorry I am.\"\n\n\"That's the best you can manage? Dreaming of a womanlike that, and all you can think to do with your time is apologize?\"\n\n\"Hardly under my control-\"\n\n\"They're your dreams. Take the reins.\"\n\n\"I was just a little boy, for the gods' sakes.\"\n\n\"If she pops up again move it forward tenor fifteen years. I want to see some blushing and stammering next time you wake up.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Going somewhere?\"\n\n\"Out fora bit. Making my rounds.\"\n\n\"Jean, there's no point. Quit torturing yourself.\"\n\n\"Finished?\" Jean took the empty cup from him.\n\n\"Not nearly. I-\"\n\n\"Won't begone long.\" Jean set the cup on the table and gave the lapels of his coat a perfunctory brushing as he moved to the door. \"Get some more rest.\"\n\n\"You don't bloody listen to reason, do you?\"\n\n\"You know what they say about imitation and flattery.\"\n\nThe door slid shut and Jean was gone, out into the streets of Lashain." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "LASHAIN WAS famous as a city where anything could be bought and anything could be left behind. By the grace of the regio, the city's highest and thinnest order of nobility (where a title that could be traced back more than two generations qualified one for the old guard), just about anyone with cash in hand and enough of a pulse to maintain semiconsciousness could have their blood transmuted to a reasonable facsimile of blue.\n\nFrom every corner of the Therin world they came-merchants and criminals, mercenary captains and pirates, gamblers and adventurers and exiles. As commoners they entered the chrysalis of a countinghouse, shed vast quantities of precious metal, and as newborn peers of Lashain they emerged into daylight. The regio minted demibarons, barons, viscounts, counts, and even the occasional marquis, with styles largely of their own invention. Honors were taken from a list and cost extra; \"Defender of the Twelvefold Faith\" was quite popular. There were also half a dozen meaningless orders of knighthood that looked marvelous on a coat lapel.\n\nBecause of the novelty of this purchased respectability to those who brokered it for themselves, Lashain was the most violently manners-conscious city Jean Tannen had ever visited. Lacking centuries of aristocratic descent to assure them of their worth, the neophytes of Lashain overcompensated with ceremony. Their rules of precedence were like alchemical formulae, and dinner parties killed more of them each year than fevers and accidents combined. It seemed that little could be more thrilling for those who'd just bought their family names than to risk them (not to mention their mortal flesh) over minor insults.\n\nThe record, as far as Jean had heard, was three days from countinghouse to dueling green to funeral cart. The regio, of course, offered no refunds to relations of the deceased." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As a result of this nonsense, it was difficult for those without titles, regardless of the color of their coin, to gain ready access to the city's best physikers. They were made such status symbols by their noble clients that they rarely had to scamper after gold from other sources.\n\nThe taste of autumn was in the cool wind blowing off the Amathel, the Lake of Jewels-the freshwater sea that rolled to the horizon north of Lashain. Jean was conservatively dressed by local standards, in a brown velvet frock coat and silks worth no more than, say, three months'wages for an average tradesman. This marked him instantly as someone's man and suited his current task. No gentleman of consequence did his own waiting at a physiker's garden gate.\n\nScholar Erkemar Zodesti was regarded as the finest physiker in Lashain, a prodigy with the bone saw and the alchemist's crucible. He'd also shown complete disinterest, for three days straight, in Jean's requests fora consultation.\n\nToday Jean once again approached the iron-barred gate at the rear of Zodesti's garden, from behind which an elderly servant peered at him with reptilian insolence. In Jean's outstretched hand was a parchment envelope and a square of white card, just like the three days previous. Jean was getting testy.\n\nThe servant reached between the bars without a word and took everything Jean offered. The envelope, containing the customary gratuity of (far too many) silver coins, vanished into the servant's coat. The old man read or pretended to read the white card, raised his eyebrows at Jean, and walked away.\n\nThe card said exactly what it always did-Contempla va cora frata eminenza. \"Consider the request of an eminent friend,\" in the Throne Therin that was the polite affectation for this sort of gesture. Rather than giving an aristocrat's name, this message meant that someone powerful wished to pay anonymously to have someone else examined. This was a common means of bringing wealth to bear on the problem of, say, a pregnant mistress, without directly compromising the identity of anyone important." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jean passed the long minutes of his wait by examining the physiker's house. It was a good solid place, about the size of a smaller Alcegrante mansion back in Camorr. Newer, though, and done up in a mock Tal Verrar style that labored to proclaim the importance of its inhabitants. The roof was tiled with slats of volcanic glass, and the windows bordered with decorative carvings that would have better suited a temple.\n\nFrom the heart of the garden itself, closed off from view by a ten-foot stonewall, Jean could hear the sounds of a lively party. Clinking glasses, shrieks of laughter, and behind it all the hum of a nine-stringed viol and a few other instruments.\n\n\"I regret to inform your master that the scholar is presently unable to accommodate his request fora consultation.\" The servant reappeared behind the iron gate with empty hands. The envelope, a token of earnestness, was of course gone. Whether into the hands of Zodesti or this servant, Jean couldn't say.\n\n\"Perhaps you might tell me when it would be more convenient for the scholar to receive my master's petition,\" said Jean, \"the middle of the afternoon for half a week now being obviously unsuitable.\"\n\n\"I couldn't say.\" The servant yawned. \"The scholar is consumed with work.\"\n\n\"With work.\" Jean fumed as the sound of applause drifted from the garden party. \"Indeed. My master has a case which requires the greatest possible skill and discretion-\"\n\n\"Your master could rely upon the scholar's discretion at all times,\" said the servant. \"Unfortunately, his skill is urgently required elsewhere at the moment.\"\n\n\"Gods damn you, man!\" Jean's self-control evaporated. \"This is important!\"\n\n\"I will not bespoken to in a vulgar fashion. Good day.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jean considered reaching through the iron bars and seizing the old man by the throat, but that would have been counterproductive. He wore no fighting leathers under his finery, and his decorative shoes would be worse than bare feet in a scuffle. Despite the pair of hatchets tucked away under his coat, he wasn't equipped to storm even a garden party by choice.\n\n\"The scholar risks giving offense to a citizen of considerable importance,\" growled Jean.\n\n\"The scholar is giving offense, you simple fellow.\" The old man chuckled. \"I tell you plainly, he has little interest in the sort of business arranged in this fashion. I don't believe a single citizen of quality is so unfamiliar with the scholar that they need fear to be received by the front door.\"\n\n\"I'll call again tomorrow,\" said Jean, straining to keep his composure. \"Perhaps I might name a sum that will penetrate even your master's indifference.\"\n\n\"You are to be commended for your persistence, if not for your perception. Tomorrow you must do as your master bids. For now, I have already said good day.\"\n\n\"Good day,\" growled Jean. \"May the gods cherish the house wherein such kindness dwells.\" He bowed stiffly and left.\n\nThere was nothing else to be done at the moment, in this gods-damned city where even throwing envelopes of coins was no guarantee of attracting attention to a problem.\n\nAshe stomped back to his hired carriage, Jean cursed Maxilan Stragos for the thousandth time. The bastard had lied about so much. Why, in the end, had the damned poison been the one thing he'd chosen to tell the truth about?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "HOME FOR the time being was a rented suite in the Villa Suvela, an unadorned but scrupulously clean rooming house favored by travelers who came to Lashain to take the waters of the Amathel. Those waters were said to cure rheumatism, though Jean had yet to see a bather emerge leaping and dancing. The rooming house overlooked a black sand beach on the city's northeast shore, and the other lodgers kept to themselves.\n\n\"The bastard,\" said Jean as he threw open the door to the suite's inner apartment. \"The motherless Lashani reptile. The greedy son of a piss-bucket and a bad fart.\"\n\n\"My keen grasp of subtle nuance tells me you might be frustrated,\" said Locke. He was sitting up, and he looked fully awake.\n\n\"We've been snobbed off again,\" said Jean, frowning. Despite the fresh air from the window the inner apartment still smelled of old sweat and fresh blood. \"Zodesti won't come. Not today, at least.\"\n\n\"To hell with him, then, Jean.\"\n\n\"He's the only physiker of repute I haven't got to yet. Some of the others were difficult, but he's being impossible.\"\n\n\"I've been pinched and bled by every gods-damned lunatic in this city whoever shoved a bolus down a throat,\" said Locke. \"One more hardly signifies.\"\n\n\"He's the best.\" Jean flung his coat over a chair, set his hatchets down, and removed a bottle of blue wine from a cabinet. \"An alchemical expert. Areal smirking rat-fucker, too.\"\n\n\"It's all for the good, then,\" said Locke. \"What would the neighbors say if I consulted a man who screws rodents?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We need his opinion.\"\n\n\"I'm tired of being a medical curiosity,\" said Locke. \"If he won't come, he won't come.\"\n\n\"I'll call again tomorrow.\" Jean poured two half-glasses of wine and watered them until they were a pleasant afternoon-sky color. \"I'll have the self-important prick here one way or another.\"\n\n\"What would you do, break his fingers if he won't consult? Might make things ticklish for me. Especially if he wants to cut something off.\"\n\n\"He might find a solution.\"\n\n\"Oh, for the gods'sake.\" Locke's frustrated sigh turned into a cough. \"There is no solution.\"\n\n\"Trust me. Tomorrow is going to be one of my unusually persuasive days.\"\n\n\"As I see it, it's cost us only a few pieces of gold to discover how unfashionable we are. Most social failures incur far greater expense, I should think.\"\n\n\"Somewhere out there,\" said Jean, \"must bean illness that makes its sufferers meek, mild, and agreeable. I'll find it someday, and see that you get the worst possible case.\"\n\n\"I'm sure I was born immune. Speaking of agreeable, will that wine be arriving in my hands anytime this year?\"\n\nLocke had seemed alert enough, but his voice was slurring, and weaker than it had been even the day before. Jean approached the bed uneasily, wineglasses held out like a peace offering to some unfamiliar and potentially dangerous creature.\n\nLocke had been in this condition before, too thin and too pale, with weeks of beard on his cheeks. Only this time there was no obvious wound to tend, no cuts to bandage. Just Maxilan Stragos'insidious legacy doing its silent work. Locke's sheets were spotted with blood and with the dark stains of fever-sweat. His eyes gleamed in bruised sockets." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jean pored over a pile of medical texts each night, and still he didn't have adequate words for what was happening to Locke. He was being unknit from the inside; his veins and sinews were coming apart. Blood seeped out of him as though by some demonic whim. One hour he might cough it up, the next it would come from his eyes or nose.\n\n\"Gods damn it,\" Jean whispered as Locke reached for the wineglass. Locke's left hand was red with blood, as though his fingers had been dipped in it. \"What's this?\"\n\n\"Nothing unusual.\" Locke chuckled. \"It started up while you were gone... from under my nails. Here, I can hold the glass with my other one-\"\n\n\"Were you trying to hide it from me? Who else changes your gods-damned sheets?\"\n\nJean set the glasses down and moved to the table beneath the window, which held stacks of linen towels, a water jug, and a washing bowl. The bowl's water was rusty with old blood.\n\n\"It doesn't hurt, Jean,\" muttered Locke.\n\nIgnoring him, Jean picked up the bowl. The window overlooked the villa's interior courtyard, which was fortunately deserted. Jean heaved the old bloody water out the window, refilled the bowl from the jug, and dipped a linen cloth into it.\n\n\"Hand,\" said Jean. Locke sulkily complied, and Jean molded the wet cloth around his fingers. It turned pink. \"Keep it elevated fora while.\"\n\n\"I know it looks bad, but it's really not that much blood.\"\n\n\"You've little left to lose!\"\n\n\"I'm also in want of wine.\"\n\nJean fetched their glasses again and carefully placed one in Locke's right hand. Locke's shakes didn't seem too bad for the moment, which was pleasing. He'd had difficulty holding things lately." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Take the role of the writer's aide, proceed with the narrative.\nTags: fantasy, heist, theater\nAuthor: Scott Lynch\nTitle: The Republic of Thieves\nChapter: 14" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jean pored over a pile of medical texts each night, and still he didn't have adequate words for what was happening to Locke. He was being unknit from the inside; his veins and sinews were coming apart. Blood seeped out of him as though by some demonic whim. One hour he might cough it up, the next it would come from his eyes or nose.\n\n\"Gods damn it,\" Jean whispered as Locke reached for the wineglass. Locke's left hand was red with blood, as though his fingers had been dipped in it. \"What's this?\"\n\n\"Nothing unusual.\" Locke chuckled. \"It started up while you were gone... from under my nails. Here, I can hold the glass with my other one-\"\n\n\"Were you trying to hide it from me? Who else changes your gods-damned sheets?\"\n\nJean set the glasses down and moved to the table beneath the window, which held stacks of linen towels, a water jug, and a washing bowl. The bowl's water was rusty with old blood.\n\n\"It doesn't hurt, Jean,\" muttered Locke.\n\nIgnoring him, Jean picked up the bowl. The window overlooked the villa's interior courtyard, which was fortunately deserted. Jean heaved the old bloody water out the window, refilled the bowl from the jug, and dipped a linen cloth into it.\n\n\"Hand,\" said Jean. Locke sulkily complied, and Jean molded the wet cloth around his fingers. It turned pink. \"Keep it elevated fora while.\"\n\n\"I know it looks bad, but it's really not that much blood.\"\n\n\"You've little left to lose!\"\n\n\"I'm also in want of wine.\"\n\nJean fetched their glasses again and carefully placed one in Locke's right hand. Locke's shakes didn't seem too bad for the moment, which was pleasing. He'd had difficulty holding things lately." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"A toast,\" said Locke. \"To alchemists. May they all be stricken with the screaming fire-shits.\" He sipped his wine. \"Or strangled in bed. Whatever's most convenient. I'm not picky.\"\n\nAt his next sip, he coughed, and a ruby-colored droplet spiraled down into his wine, leaving a purplish tail as it dissolved.\n\n\"Gods,\" said Jean. He gulped the rest of his own wine and set the glass aside. \"I'm going out to fetch Malcor.\"\n\n\"Jean, I don't need another damned dog-leech at the moment. He's been here six or seven times already. Why-\"\n\n\"Something might have changed. Something might be different.\" Jean grabbed his coat. \"Maybe he can help the bleeding. Maybe he'll finally find some clue-\"\n\n\"There is no clue, Jean. There's no antidote that's going to spring from Malcor or Kepira or Zodesti or any boil-lancing fraud in this whole tedious shitsack of a city.\"\n\n\"I'll be back soon.\"\n\n\"Dammit, Jean, save the money!\" Locke coughed again, and nearly dropped his wine. \"It's only commonsense, you brick-skulled tub! You obstinate-\"\n\n\"I'll be back soon.\"\n\n\"... obstinate, uh, something... something... biting and witty and thoroughly convincing! Hey, if you leave now, you'll miss me being thoroughly convincing! Damn it.\"\n\nWhatever Locke might have said next, Jean closed the door on it. The sky outside was now banded in twilight colors, orange at the horizons giving way to silver and then purple in the deep bowl of the heavens. Purple like the color of blood dissolving in blue wine." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A low gray wall sliding into the north, from out of the Amathel, seemed to promise an oncoming storm. That suited Jean just fine." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "SIX WEEKS had passed since they'd left the little port of Vel Virazzo in a forty-foot yacht, fresh from a series of more or less total disasters that had left them with a fraction of the vast sum they'd hoped to recoup for two years invested in a complex scheme.\n\nAshe walked out into the streets of Lashain, Jean ran his fingers over a lock of curly dark hair, tightly bound with leather cords. This he always kept in a coat pocket or tucked into his belt. Of all the things he'd lost recently, the money was the least of his concerns.\n\nLocke and Jean had discussed sailing east, back toward Tamalek and Espara... back toward Camorr. But most of the world they'd known there was swept away, and most of their old friends were dead. Instead they'd gone west. North and west.\n\nFollowing the coast, straining their lubberly skills to the utmost, they had skirted Tal Verrar, swept past the blackened remains of once-luxurious Salon Corbeau, and discussed making far north for Balinel, in the Kingdom of the Seven Marrows. Both of them spoke Vadran well enough to do just about anything while they sought some new criminal opportunity.\n\nThey left the sea and headed inland, up the wide River Cavendria, which was Eldren-tamed and fit for oceangoing vessels. The Cavendria flowed west from the Amathel, Lake of Jewels, the inland sea that separated the ancient sister-cities of Karthain and Lashain. Locke and Jean had once hoped to buy their way into the ranks of Lashain's nobility. Their revised plan had merely been to weigh their boat down with stores for the voyage up to Balinel.\n\nLocke's symptoms revealed themselves the day they entered the Cavendria estuary." }, { "from": "human", "value": "At first it had been nothing more than bouts of dizziness and blurred vision, but as the days passed and they slowly tacked against the current, he began bleeding from his nose and mouth." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "By the time they reached Lashain, he could no longer laugh away or hide his increasing weakness. Instead of taking on stores, they'd rented rooms, and against Locke's protests Jean began to spend nearly every coin they had in pursuit of comforts and cures.\n\nFrom Lashain's underworld, which was tolerably colorful if nowhere near the size of Camorr's, he'd consulted every poisoner and black alchemist he could bribe. All had shaken their heads and expressed professional admiration for what had been done to Locke; the substance in question was beyond their power to counteract. Locke had been made to drink a hundred different purgatives, teas, and elixirs, each seemingly more vile and expensive than the last, each ultimately useless.\n\nAfter that, Jean had dressed well and started calling on accredited physikers. Locke was explained away as a'confidential servant\" of someone wealthy, which could have meant anything from secret lover to private assassin. The physikers too had expressed regret and fascination in equal measure. Most had refused to attempt cures, instead offering palliatives to ease Locke's pain. Jean fully grasped the meaning of this, but paid no heed to their pessimism. He simply showed each to the door, paid their exorbitant fees, and went after the next physiker on his list.\n\nThe money hadn't lasted. After a few days, Jean had sold their boat (along with the resident cat, essential for good luck at sea), and was happy to get half of what they'd paid for it.\n\nNow even those funds were running thin, and Erkemar Zodesti was just about the only physiker in Lashain who had yet to tell Jean that Locke's condition was hopeless." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"NO NEW symptoms,\" said Malcor, around old man with a graybeard that curled out from his chin like an oncoming thunderhead. Malcor was a dog-leech, a street physiker with no formal training or license, but of all his kind available in Lashain he was the most frequently sober. \"Merely anew expression of familiar symptoms. Take heart.\"\n\n\"Not likely,\" said Locke. \"But thanks for the hand job.\"\n\nMalcor had poulticed the tips of Locke's fingers with a mixture of cornmeal and honey, then tied dry linen bandages around the fingers, turning Locke's left hand into a padded lump of uselessness.\n\n\"Heh. Well, the gods love a man who laughs at hardship.\"\n\n\"Hardship is boring as all hell. Gotta find laughs if you can't stay drunk,\" said Locke.\n\n\"So the bleeding is nothing new? Nothing worse than before?\" asked Jean.\n\n\"Anew inconvenience, yes.\" Malcor hesitated, then shrugged. \"As for the total loss to his body's sanguine humors... I can't say. A close examination of his water could, perhaps-\"\n\n\"You want a bowl full of piss,\" said Locke, \"you can uncork your private reserve. I've given quite enough since I came here.\"\n\n\"Well, then.\" Malcor's knees creaked like rusty hinges as he stood up. \"If I won't scry your piss, I won't scry your piss. I can, however, leave you with a pill that should bring you excellent relief for twelve to twenty-four hours, and perhaps encourage your depleted humors to rekindle-\"\n\n\"Splendid,\" said Locke. \"Will it be the one composed primarily of chalk, this time? Or the one made of sugar? I'd prefer sugar.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Look... I say, look here!\" Malcor's seamy old face grew red. \"I might not have Collegium robes, but when I go to the gods they'll know that I gave an honest damn about lending ease to my patients!\"\n\n\"Peace, old man.\" Locke coughed and rubbed his eyes with his un-bandaged hand. \"I know you mean the best. But spare me your placebo.\"\n\n\"Have your friend remove your bandages in a few hours,\" said Malcor testily, shrugging back into a worn frock coat that was spattered with dark stains. \"If you drink, drink sparingly. Water your wine.\"\n\n\"Rest assured, my friend here waters my wine like a virgin princess' nervous chaperone.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry,\" said Jean, as he showed Malcor outside. \"He's difficult when he's ill.\"\n\n\"He's got two or three days,\" said the old man.\n\n\"You can't be-\"\n\n\"Yes, I can. The bleeding is worse. His enervation is more pronounced. His humors are terminally imbalanced, and I'm certain an examination of his water would show blood. I tried to hearten him, but your friend is obviously undeceived.\"\n\n\"But-\"\n\n\"As should you be.\"\n\n\"There must be someone who can do something!\"\n\n\"The gods.\"\n\n\"If I could convince Zodesti-\"\n\n\"Zodesti?\" Malcor laughed. \"What a waste of a gift in that one. Zodesti treats only two ailments, wealth and prominence. He'll never condescend to do so much as take your friend's pulse.\"\n\n\"So you've no other clues? No other suggestions?\"\n\n\"Summon priests. While he's still lucid.\" Jean scowled, and the aged dog-leech took him gently by the shoulders. \"I can't name the poison that's killing your friend. But the one that's killing you is called hope.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Thank you for your time,\" growled Jean." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He shook several silver coins out of his purse. \"If I should have further need of these marvelous insights-\"\n\n\"A single duvesta will be quite adequate,\" said Malcor. \"And despite your mood now, know that I'll come whenever you require. Your friend's discomfort is more likely to wax than wane before the end.\"\n\nThe sun was gone, and the roofs and towers of the city were coming alive with specks of fire against the deepening night. Ashe watched Malcor vanish down the street, Jean wanted more than anything to have someone to hit." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"FAIR DAY to you,\" said Jean, approaching the garden gate again. It was the second hour of the afternoon, the next day, and the sky overhead was a boiling mess of gray. The rain had yet to fall, but it was coming, certain and soon. \"I'm here for my usual petition.\"\n\n\"How completely unexpected,\" said the old man behind the iron bars.\n\n\"Is it a convenient time?\" From inside the garden, Jean could hear laughter again, along with a series of echoing smacks, as though something were being thrown against a stonewall. \"Or is the scholar consumed-\"\n\n\"By work. Stranger, has the conversation we had yesterday fled your memory?\"\n\n\"I must beg you, sir.\" Jean put as much passionate sincerity as he could into his voice. \"A good man lies dying, in desperate need of aid. Did your master not take oath as a physiker of the Collegium?\"\n\n\"His oaths are no business of yours. And many good men lie dying, in desperate want of aid, in Lashain and Karthain and every other place in the world. Do you seethe scholar saddling his horse to seek them out?\"\n\n\"Please.\" Jean shook afresh envelope, jingling the coins within. \"At least carry the message, for the love of all the gods.\"\n\nWearing half a scowl and half a smirk, the servant reached through the bars. Jean dropped the envelope, seized the man by the collar, and slammed him hard against the gate. An instant later Jean flourished a knife in his freehand.\n\nIt was a push-dagger, the sort wielded with a thrusting fist rather than a fencer's grip. The blade seated against Jean's knuckles was half afoot long and curved like an animal's claw." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There's only one use fora knife like this,\" whispered Jean. \"You see it? You try to call out or pull away, and you'll be wearing your belly-fat for an apron. Open the gate.\"\n\n\"You'll die for this,\" hissed the servant. \"They'll skin you and boil you in saltwater.\"\n\n\"And what a consolation that will be for you, eh?\" Jean prodded him in the stomach with his knife. \"Open the gate or I'll take the keys from your corpse.\"\n\nWith a shaking hand, the old man opened the gate. Jean threw it aside, grabbed the servant again, and turned him around. The knife was now at the small of the man's back.\n\n\"Take me to your master. Stay composed. Tell him that an important case has come up and that he will want to hear my offer.\"\n\n\"The scholar is in the garden. But you're mad.... He has friends in the highest places... urk!\"\n\nJean poked him again with the blade, urging him forward.\n\n\"Of course,\" said Jean. \"But do you have any friends closer than my knife?\"\n\nAt the heart of the garden, a short, solid man of about thirty-five was sharing a hearty laugh with a woman who had yet to see twenty. Both of them wore light breeches, silk shirts, and padded leather gloves. That explained the rhythmic noise from before. They'd been using a cleared section of stonewall for pursava, the'partner chase,\" an aristocratic cousin of handball.\n\n\"Sir, madam, a thousand pardons,\" said the servant at another poke from Jean. Jean stood half apace behind the man, where neither Zodesti nor his guest could seethe true means of his entry into the garden. \"Avery urgent matter, sir.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Urgent?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Zodesti had a mop of black curls, now slick with sweat, and the remains of an upper-class Verrari accent. \"Who does this fellow come to speak for?\"\n\n\"An eminent friend,\" said Jean. \"In the usual fashion. It would not be appropriate to discuss these matters in front of your young-\"\n\n\"By the gods, I'll say what's appropriate or not in my own garden! This fellow has some cheek, Loran. You know my preferences. This had better be in earnest.\"\n\n\"Dire earnest, sir.\"\n\n\"Let him leave his particulars. If I find them suitable he may call again after dinner.\"\n\n\"Now would be better,\" said Jean, \"for everyone.\"\n\n\"Who in all the hells do you think you are? Shit on your dire earnest! Loran, throw this-\"\n\n\"Refusal noted and cordially declined.\" Jean shoved Loran to the turf. Half a second later he was upon Zodesti, with a meaty forearm wrapped around the physiker's throat and his blade held up so the young woman could see it. \"Cry out for help and I will use this, madam. I would hate to have an injury to the scholar resting upon your conscience.\"\n\n\"I... I...\" she said.\n\n\"Babble all you like, so long as you don't scream. As for you-\" Jean squeezed the man's windpipe to demonstrate his strength, and the physiker gasped. \"I've tried to be civil. I would have paid well. But now I'll teach you anew way of doing business. Do you have a kit you would bring to a case of poisoning? Materials you'd need fora consultation?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" choked Zodesti. \"In my study.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We're going to calmly walk into your house, all of us. On your feet, Loran. You have a carriage and driver on the grounds, Scholar?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Zodesti.\n\n\"Inside, then, as though nothing is amiss. If any of you give meany trouble, by the gods, I'll start practicing throat surgery.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "THE TICKLISH part was getting them all into Zodesti's study, past the curious eyes of a cook and a kitchen-boy. But none of Jean's hostages caused a scene, and soon enough the study door was between them and any interference. Jean shot the bolt, smiled, and said, \"Loran, would you-\"\n\nAt that moment, the old man found the courage fora last desperate struggle. Foul as his temper was, Jean didn't truly have the heart to stab the poor idiot, and he smashed the edge of his knife hand into Loran's jaw instead. The servant hit the floor senseless. Zodesti darted to a desk in the corner and had a drawer open before Jean collared him and flung him down beside Loran. Jean glanced into the drawer and laughed.\n\n\"Going to fight me off with a letter-opener? Take a seat, both of you.\" Jean indicated a pair of armchairs against the rear wall. While Zodesti and his companion sat there, wide-eyed as pupils awaiting punishment from a tutor, Jean cut down one of the drapes that hung beside the study's shuttered window. He slashed it into strips and tossed them to Zodesti.\n\n\"I don't quite understand-\"\n\n\"Your young friend offers a problem,\" said Jean. \"Meaning no particular offense to you, madam, but one hostage is difficult enough to handle, let alone two. Particularly when they're clumsy amateur hostages, unused to their roles and expectations. So we'll leave you in that fine big closet over there, where you won't be found too late or too soon.\"\n\n\"How dare you,\" said the young woman. \"I'll have you know that my uncle is-\"\n\n\"Time is precious and my knife is sharp,\" said Jean. \"When some servant finally opens that closet, do they find you alive or dead?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Alive,\" she gulped.\n\n\"Gag her, Scholar,\" said Jean. \"Then tie some good, firm knots. I'll check them myself when you're done. After she's secure, do the same for old Loran.\"\n\nAs Zodesti worked to tie up his pursava partner (if that was indeed the limit of their partnership), Jean tore down another drape and cut it into more strips. His eyes wandered to the room's glass-fronted cabinets. They contained a collection of books, glass vessels, herbal samples, alchemical powders, and bizarre surgical instruments. Jean was heartened; if Zodesti's esoterica reflected his actual ability, he might just have an answer after all." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"THIS WILL do,\" said Jean.\n\n\"Michel,\" said Zodesti, leaning out the window on his side of the carriage, \"pull up here.\"\n\nThe carriage rattled to a halt, and the driver hopped down to open the door. Jean, knife half-concealed by the wide cuff of his coat, gestured for Zodesti to step out first. The scholar did, carrying a leather bag and a bundle of clothing.\n\nAlight rain had begun to fall, for which Jean was grateful. It would drive bystanders from the streets, and the overcast sky gave the city the look of twilight rather than midafternoon. A kidnapper could ask for no more.\n\nJean had ordered the halt about two blocks from the Villa Suvela, in front of an alley that would lead thereby twists and turns with a dozen other possible destinations branching off along the way.\n\n\"The scholar will require several hours,\" said Jean, passing a folded slip of parchment to the driver. \"Wait at this address until we meet you again.\"\n\nThe address on the parchment was a coffeehouse in Lashain's mercantile district, a half-mile distant. The driver frowned.\n\n\"Is this well with you, sir? You'll miss dinner-\"\n\n\"It's fine, Michel,\" said Zodesti with a hint of exasperation. \"Just follow directions.\"\n\n\"Of course, sir.\"\n\nOnce the carriage had clattered down the street, Jean pulled Zodesti into the alley and said, \"You may live through this yet. Get dressed as we discussed.\"\n\nThe pile of clothing included a battered hat and a rain-stained cloak, both belonging to Loran, who was a fair match in size for his master. Zodesti threw the cloak on, and Jean pulled a strip of slashed drapery from his pocket." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What the hell is this, now?\" said Zodesti.\n\n\"Did you really imagine I'd go to all this trouble and let you see where I'm taking you? I thought you'd prefer blindfolded to unconscious.\"\n\nZodesti stood still as Jean blindfolded him, pulled up the cloak's hood, and pushed the hat down on top of it. It was a good effect. From more than a few feet away, the blindfold would be concealed by the hat or lost in the shadows of the hood.\n\nFrom Zodesti's medical bag, Jean withdrew a bottle of wine. He pulled the cork (Jean had found the bottle in Zodesti's study, half empty), splashed some on the physiker, poured the rest on the ground, and pressed the empty bottle into Zodesti's right hand. From the smell that wafted up around them, Jean guessed he'd just wasted a very valuable kameleona.\n\n\"Now,\" said Jean, \"you're my drunk friend, being escorted to safety. Keep your head down.\" Jean pressed Zodesti's bag into the physiker's left hand. \"I've got my arms around you to keep you from stumbling, and my knife closer than you'd like.\"\n\n\"You'll boil alive for this, you son of a bitch.\"\n\n\"Let's keep my mother out of this. Mind your feet.\"\n\nIt took about ten minutes for them to stumble to the rooming house together. There were no complications. The few people out in the rain had better things to pay attention to than a pair of drunks, it seemed.\n\nOnce safely inside their suite, Jean locked the front doors, shoved Zodesti into a chair, and said, \"Now we're well away from anyone else. If you try to escape, or raise your voice, or call attention to yourself in anyway, I'll hurt you. Badly.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Stop threatening me and show me your damned patient.\"\n\n\"Ina moment.\" Jean opened the doors to the inner apartment, saw that Locke was awake, and quickly gestured in their private sign language:\n\nDon't use any names.\n\n\"What am I,\" muttered Locke, \"an idiot? I knew he wasn't coming back hereof his own freewill.\"\n\n\"How-\"\n\n\"You wore your fighting boots and left your dress shoes by the wardrobe. And all of your weapons are missing.\"\n\n\"Ah.\" Jean tore off Zodesti's blindfold and disguise. \"Make yourself comfortable and get to work.\"\n\nThe physiker hefted his satchel and, sparing a hateful glance for Jean, moved to Locke's bedside. He stared at Locke fora few moments, then pulled a wooden chair over and sat down.\n\n\"I smell wine,\" said Locke. \"Kameleona, I think. I don't suppose you've brought any with you?\"\n\n\"Only what your friend bathed me with,\" said Zodesti. He snapped his fingers a few times in front of Locke's eyes, then took his pulse from both wrists. \"My, you are in a sad state. You believe you've been poisoned?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Locke with a cough. \" I fell down some fucking stairs.\n\nWhat's it look like?\"\n\n\"Can't you ever be polite to any of your physikers?\" said Jean.\n\n\"You're the one who bloody well kidnapped him.\"\n\n\"Since I appear to have no choice,\" said Zodesti, \"I'm going to give you a thorough examination. This may cause some discomfort, but don't complain. I won't be listening.\"\n\nZodesti's first examination took a quarter of an hour. Ignoring Locke's grumbling, he poked and prodded at his joints and limbs, working from the top of his arms to his feet." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You're losing sensation in your extremities,\" said Zodesti at last.\n\n\"How the hell can you tell?\"\n\n\"I just stuck a lancet into each of your large toes.\"\n\n\"You poked holes in my feet?\"\n\n\"I'm adding teardrops to a river, given the blood you're losing elsewhere.\" Zodesti fumbled in his bag, removed a silk case, and from this extracted a pair of optics with oversized lenses. Wearing them, he pulled Locke's lips back and examined his gums and teeth.\n\n\"Ahm naht a fckhng horth,\" said Locke.\n\n\"Quiet.\" Zodesti held the clean portion of one of Locke's discarded bandages to his gums for several seconds, pulled it away, and frowned at it.\n\n\"Your gums are seeping blood. And I see your fingernails are trim,\" said Zodesti.\n\n\"What of it?\"\n\n\"Were they trimmed on a Penance Day?\"\n\n\"How the hell should I remember?\"\n\n\"Trimming the nails on any day but a Penance Day weakens the blood. Tell me, when you were first taken with your symptoms, did you think to swallow an amethyst?\"\n\n\"Why would I have had one close at hand?\"\n\n\"Your pig-ignorance of basic medicine is your own misfortune. You sound like an easterner, though, so I can't say I'm surprised.\"\n\nThe rest of the physiker's work took an hour, with Zodesti performing increasingly esoteric tests and Jean hovering behind him, alert for any sign of treachery. Finally, Zodesti sighed and rose to his feet, wiping his bloody hands on Locke's sheets." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You have the unfortunate distinction,\" said Zodesti, \"of being poisoned by a substance beyond my experience. Given the fact that I have a Master's Ring in alchemy from the Therin Collegium-\"\n\n\"Gods damn your jewelry,\" said Jean. \"Can you do anything?\"\n\n\"In the early stages of the poisoning, who could have said? But now...\" Zodesti shrugged.\n\n\"You maggot!\" Jean grabbed Zodesti by his lapels, whirled, and slammed him against the wall beside Locke's bed. \"You arrogant little fraud! You're the best this city has? DO SOMETHING!\"\n\n\"I can't,\" said Zodesti with anew firmness in his voice. \"Think whatever you like, do whatever you like. He is beyond my powers of intervention. I daresay that puts him beyond anyone's.\"\n\n\"Let him go,\" said Locke.\n\n\"There must be something-\"\n\n\"Let him go!\" Locke retched, spat up more blood, and broke into a coughing fit. Jean released Zodesti, and the physiker slid away, glaring.\n\n\"Shortly after the poison was administered,\" said the physiker, \" I could have tried a purgative. Or filled his stomach with milk and parchment pulp. Or bled him to thin out the venom. But this thing has been with him for too long now.\n\n\"Even with known poisons,\" he continued, returning his instruments to his bag, \"there comes a point where the harm to organs or humors cannot be reversed. Antidotes don't restore dead flesh. And with this, an unknown poison? His blood is pouring out of him. I can't just put it back.\"\n\n\"Gods damn it,\" whispered Jean." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"The question is no longer if but when,\" said Zodesti." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Look, you ugly bastard, despite the way you brought me into this mess, I've given him my full and fair attention.\"\n\n\"I see.\" Jean slowly walked over to the linen table, took up a clay cup, and filled it with water from the jug. \"Do you have anything with you that can bring about a strong sleep? In case his pain should worsen?\"\n\n\"Of course.\" Zodesti removed a small paper pouch from his bag. \"Have him take this in water or wine and he won't be able to keep his eyes open.\"\n\n\"Now wait just a damn minute,\" said Locke.\n\n\"Give it here,\" said Jean. He took the packet, poured its contents into the water, and shook the cup several times. \"How long will it last?\"\n\n\"Hours.\"\n\n\"Good.\" Jean passed the cup to Zodesti and gestured at it with a dagger. \"Drink up.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"I don't want you running off to the first constable you can find as soon as I dump you on the street.\"\n\n\"Don't think I would be so foolish as to try and run from you-\"\n\n\"Don't think I give a damn. Drink the whole thing or I'll break your arms.\"\n\nZodesti quickly gulped the contents of the cup. \"How I'm going to laugh when they catch you, you son of a bitch.\" He tossed the cup down carelessly on Locke's bed and sat with his back against the wall. \"All the justices of Lashain are my patients. Your friend's too sick to run. If he's still alive when they catch you, they'll draw and quarter him just to give you something to watch while you wait for your own exe... execution....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A few seconds later his head rolled forward and he began snoring.\n\n\"Think he's pretending?\" said Locke.\n\nJean shoved the tip of his dagger into the calf of Zodesti's outstretched right leg. The physiker didn't stir.\n\n\"I hate to say that I told you so,\" said Locke, settling back against his cushions and folding his hands in front of him. \"Wait, no I don't. I could use a bottle of wine, and don't add any water this-\"\n\n\"I'll get Malcor,\" said Jean. \"I'll have him stay the night. Constant attention.\"\n\n\"Damn it, Jean, wake up.\" Locke coughed and pounded on his chest. \"What a reversal this is, eh? I wanted to die in Vel Virazzo and you pulled me back to my senses. Now I really am dying and you're bereft of yours.\"\n\n\"There's-\"\n\n\"No more physikers, Jean. No more alchemists, no more dog-leeches. No more rocks to pry up looking for miracles.\"\n\n\"How can you just lie there like a fish washed upon shore, with no fight at all?\"\n\n\"I suppose I could flop around a bit, if you thought it would help.\"\n\n\"The Gray King sliced you like a veal cutlet and you came back from that, twice as aggravating as ever.\"\n\n\"Sword cuts. If they don't turn green, you can expect to heal. It's the nature of things. With black alchemy, who the hell knows?\"\n\n\"I'll give you wine, but I want you to take it with two parts water, like Malcor said. And I want you to eat tonight, everything you can. Keep your strength up-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'll eat, but only to give the wine some ballast. There's no other point to it, Jean. There's no cure forthcoming.\"\n\n\"If you can't be cured, you'll have to endure. Outlast it, until it breaks like a fever.\"\n\n\"The poison's more likely to last than I am.\" Locke coughed and dabbed at his mouth with one of his sheets. \"Jean, you've called down some trouble by stealing this little weasel out of his house. Surely you can see that.\"\n\n\"I was very careful.\"\n\n\"You know better! He'll remember your face, and Lashain's not so very big. Look, take the money that's left. Take it and get out of town tonight. You can slip into a dozen trades at will, you speak four languages, you'll be wealthy again in-\"\n\n\"Incomprehensible babble.\" Jean sat on the edge of the bed and gently pushed Locke's sweat-slick hair out of his eyes. \"I don't understand a word you're saying.\"\n\n\"Jean, I know you. You'll kill half a city block when your blood's up, but you'll never slit the throat of a sleeping man who's done us no real harm. That means constables will kick our doors down sooner or later. Please don't be here when they do.\"\n\n\"You brought this upon yourself when you cheated that antidote into my glass. The consequences are yours to-\"\n\n\"Like hell. You would have robbed me of that choice, too! Gods, all this maneuvering for moral advantage! You'd think we were married.\" Locke coughed and arched his back. \"The gods must truly have it in for you, to make you my nurse,\" he said quietly. \"Not once but twice, now.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Hell, they made me your nurse when I was ten years old. You can knockdown kingdoms on a whim. What you need is someone to make sure you don't get hit by a carriage when you cross the street.\"\n\n\"That's allover now, though. And it might have been kinder for you if I had been hit by a carriage-\"\n\n\"You see this?\" Jean took the tightly bound lock of dark, curly hair out of his coat pocket and held it up. \"You see this, you bloody bastard? You know where it came from. I'm done losing. Do you fucking hear me? I am done losing. Spare me your precious self-pity, because this isn't a stage and I didn't pay two coppers to cry my eyes out over anyone's death speech. You don't fucking get one, understand? I don't care if you cough up buckets of blood. Buckets I can carry. I don't care if you howl like a dog for months. You're going to eat and drink and keep fighting.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Locke after a few moments had passed in silence. He smiled wryly. \"If you are going to bean intractable son of a bitch, why don't you uncork that wine so we can start with the part about drinking?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "JEAN LEFT Zodesti in an alley about three blocks west of the Villa Suvela, taking care to conceal him well and cover his bag with trash. He wouldn't beat all pleased when he awoke, but at least he'd be alive.\n\nLocke's condition changed little that night; he slept in fits and starts, sipped wine, grudgingly chewed cold beef and soft bread, and continued bleeding. Jean fell asleep sitting up and managed to spill ale over a useless treatise on poisons. Most of their nights had been like this, recently.\n\nThe rain kept up well into the next night, enfolding the city in murk. Just before the unseen sundown Jean went out to fetch fresh supplies. There was a merchants' inn not ten minutes from the Villa Suvela that was used to dealing in necessities at odd hours.\n\nWhen Jean came back, the front door was completely unmarked. He had no reason to suspect that anything was amiss, until he glanced down in the entry and saw the great mess of water that had recently been brought across the threshold.\n\nMovement on both sides-too many attackers, too prepared. A basket of food and wine was no weapon at all. Jean went down under a press of bodies. With desperate strength he smashed a nose, kicked afoot, tried to claw out the space he needed to pull and use his hatchets-\n\n\"Enough,\" said a commanding voice. Jean looked up. The door to the inner apartment was open, and there were men standing over Locke's bed.\n\n\"No!\" Jean yelled, ceasing his fight. Four men seized him and dragged him into the inner room, where he counted at least five more visible opponents. One of them grabbed a towel from the linens table and held it up to his bleeding nose." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I'm sorry,\" said Locke, hoarsely." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They came right after you left-\"\n\n\"Quiet.\" The speaker was a rugged man about Locke and Jean's age, with a brawler's scarred jaw and a nose that looked like it had been used to break a hard fall. His hair was scraped down to stubble, and he wore quality fighting leathers under along black coat. Had Jean been thinking straight, he would have realized that the consequences of Zodesti's abduction might comeback to them from directions other than the Lashani constabulary. \"How's your head, Leone?\"\n\n\"Broge my fuggin node,\" said the man holding a towel to his face.\n\n\"Builds character.\" The man in the black coat picked up a chair, set it down in front of Jean, then kicked him in the stomach, good and fast, barely giving him time to flinch before the pain hit. Jean groaned, and the four men holding him bore down on him with all of their weight, lest he try anything stupid.\n\n\"Wait,\" coughed Locke. \"Please-\"\n\n\"If I have to say \"quiet\" again,\" said the black-coated man, \"I'll cut your fucking tongue out and pin it to the wall. Now shut up.\" He sat down in the chair and smiled. \"My name is Cortessa.\"\n\n\"Whispers,\" said Jean. This was much worse than the constabulary. Whispers Cortessa was atop power in the Lashani underworld.\n\n\"So they call me. I presume you're Andolini.\"\n\nThat was the name Jean had given when renting their rooms, and he nodded.\n\n\"If it's real I'm the king of the Seven Marrows,\" said Cortessa. \"But nobody cares. Can you tell me why I'm here?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You ran out of sheep to fuck and went looking for some action?\"\n\n\"Gods, I love Camorri. Constitutionally incapable of doing things the easy way.\" Cortessa slapped Jean hard enough to make his eyes water. \"Try again. Why am I here?\"\n\n\"You heard,\" Jean gasped, \"that we'd finally discovered the cure for being born with a face like astray dog's ass.\"\n\n\"No. If that were true you would have used it.\" Cortessa's next blow was no slap, but a backhanded bruise-maker. Jean blinked as the room swam around him.\n\n\"Now, I would love to sit here and paint the floor with your blood. Leone would probably love it even more. But I think I can save us all a lot of time.\" Cortessa beckoned, and one of the men standing over Locke's bed lifted a club. \"What does your friend lose first? A knee? A few toes? I can be creative.\"\n\n\"No. Please.\" Jean would have bent his head to Cortessa's feet if he hadn't been restrained. \"I'm the one you want. I won't waste anymore of your time. Please.\"\n\n\"You're the one I want, suddenly? Why would I want you?\"\n\n\"Something about a physiker, I'd guess.\"\n\n\"There we are. That wasn't so hard after all.\" Cortessa cracked his knuckles. \"What did you think might happen when someone like Zodesti came home from the shit you pulled yesterday?\"\n\n\"Certainly would have been nice if he'd never said anything at all.\"\n\n\"Don't be simple. Now, I know you're a friend of the friends. I hear things. When you first came to Lashain you knew your business. Kept the peace, made your gifts, behaved. You clearly understand how things work in our world. So do you think Zodesti ran up and down the streets, screaming that he'd been stolen away like a child? Or do you think he sent a few private messages to people who know people?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Shit,\" said Jean.\n\n\"Yeah. So, I got the job and I thought to myself... wasn't there a big man looking for alchemists and dog-leeches just last week? What might they have to say about him? Oh? A bad poisoning? A man bleeding to death in bed at the Villa Suvela?\" Cortessa spread his arms and smiled beatifically. \"Some problems just solve themselves.\"\n\n\"How can I make amends?\" said Jean.\n\n\"You can't.\" Cortessa stood up, laughing.\n\n\"Please don't do anything to my friend. He had nothing to do with the physiker. Do whatever you like with me. I'll cooperate. Just-\"\n\n\"My, you've gone from hard to soft, big man. You'll cooperate? Of course you'll fucking cooperate, you've got four of my men sitting on you.\"\n\n\"There's money,\" said Jean. \"Money, or I could work for you-\"\n\n\"You've got nothing I want,\" said Cortessa. \"And that's your problem. But I have a serious problem of my own.\"\n\n\"Oh?\"\n\n\"Ordinarily, this is the part where we'd make soup out of your balls and watch you drink it. Ordinarily. But we have what you might calla conflict of interest. On the one hand, you're an outlander and you touched a Lashani with all the right friends. That says we fucking kill you.\n\n\"On the other hand, it's plain you are or were some sort of connected man in Camorr. Big Barsavi might not be with us anymore, gods rest his crooked soul, but nobody in their right mind wants to fuck with the capas. You could be somebody's cousin. Who knows? A year or two from now, maybe someone comes looking for you. Asks around town. Whoops! Someone tells them to look on the bottom of the lake. And who gets sent back to Camorr in a box to pay the debt? Yours truly. That says we don't fucking kill you.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Like I said, I have some money,\" said Jean. \"If that can help.\"\n\n\"It's not your money anymore. But what does help is that your friend here is already dying... and from the looks of it, he'll be pretty damn glad to go.\"\n\n\"Look, if you'll just let him stay, he needs rest-\"\n\n\"I know. That's why I'm kicking your asses out of Lashain.\" Cortessa waved his hands at his people. \"Strip the place. All the food, all the wine. Blankets, bandages, money. Take the wood out of the fireplace. Throw the water out of the jug. Password to the innkeeper that these two fucks are under the interdict.\"\n\n\"Please,\" said Jean. \"Please-\"\n\n\"Shut up. You can keep your clothes and your weapons. I won't send you out completely naked. But I want you gone. By sunrise, you're out of the city or Zodesti gets to cut your ears off himself. Your friend can find somewhere else to die.\" Cortessa gave Locke a pat on the leg. \"Think fondly of me in hell, you poor bastard.\"\n\n\"You might not belong in getting there yourself,\" said Locke. \"I'll have a big hug waiting for you.\"\n\nCortessa's people ransacked the suite. They carefully piled Jean's weapons on the floor; everything else was taken or smashed. Locke was left on the empty bed in his bloodstained breeches and tunic. Jean's private purse and the one that had contained their general funds were both emptied. A few moments later, one of Cortessa's men stuffed the empty purses into his pockets as well.\n\n\"Oh,\" said Cortessa to Jean as the tumult was winding down, \"one thing more. Leone gets a minute alone with you in the corner. For his nose.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Bleth you, bothss,\" muttered Leone, gingerly poking at the swollen bruises that had spread to his lips.\n\n\"And you get to take it, outlander. Lift so much as a finger and I'll have your friend gutted.\" Cortessa patted Jean on the cheek and turned to leave. \"Sunrise. Get the fuck out of Lashain. Or our next conversation takes place in Scholar Zodesti's cellar.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"JEAN,\" WHISPERED Locke as soon as the last of Cortessa's bruisers had left. \"Jean! Are you all right?\"\n\n\"I'm fine.\" Jean was huddled where the linens table had been before Cortessa's men removed it. Leone had been straightforward but enthusiastic, and Jean felt as though he'd been thrown down a rocky hillside. \"I'm just... enjoying the floor. It was kind enough to catch me when I fell.\"\n\n\"Jean, listen. I took some of the money when we got hereon the boat.... I hid it. Loosened a floorboard under the bed.\"\n\n\"I know you did. I unloosened it. Took it back.\"\n\n\"You eel! I wanted you to have something to getaway with when you-\"\n\n\"I knew you'd try it, Locke. There weren't many hiding places available within stumbling distance of the bed.\"\n\n\"Argh!\"\n\n\"Argh, yourself.\" Jean heaved himself over on his back and stared at the ceiling, breathing shallowly. Nothing felt broken, but his ribs and everything attached to them were lined up to file complaints. \"Give me a few minutes. I'll go out and find some blankets for you. I can get a cart. Maybe a boat. Get you out of here somehow, before the dawn. We've got a lot of darkness to use.\"\n\n\"Jean, you'll be watched until you leave. They're not going to let you\"-Locke coughed several times-\"steal anything big. And I'm not going to let you carry me.\"\n\n\"Not let me carry you? What are you going to fend me off with, sarcasm?\"\n\n\"You should have had a few thousand solari to work with, Jean. Could have gone anywhere... done anything with it.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I did exactly what I wanted to do with it." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Now, you go with me. Or I stay hereto die with you.\"\n\n\"There's no reasoning with you.\"\n\n\"You're such a paragon of compromise yourself. Pig-brained gods-damned egotist.\"\n\n\"This isn't a fair contest. You have more energy for big words than I do.\" Locke laughed. \"Gods, look at us. Can you believe they even took our firewood?\"\n\n\"Very little surprises me these days.\" Jean slowly stood up, wincing all the way. \"So, inventory. No money. Clothes on our backs. Mostly my back. Some weapons. No firewood. Since I doubt we'll be allowed to lift anything in the city, looks like I'll have to do some highway work.\"\n\n\"How do you plan on halting carriages?\"\n\n\"I'll throw you in the road and hope they stop.\"\n\n\"Criminal genius. Will they be stopping out of heartfelt sympathy?\"\n\n\"Revulsion, more likely.\"\n\nThere was a knock at the front door.\n\nLocke and Jean glanced atone another uneasily, and Jean picked up a dagger from the small pile of weapons that had been left to him.\n\n\"Maybe they're back for the bed,\" said Locke.\n\n\"Why would they bother knocking?\"\n\nJean kept most of his body behind the door as he opened it, and he tucked the dagger just out of sight behind his back.\n\nIt wasn't Cortessa, or a dog-leech, or even the master of the Villa Suvela, as Jean had expected. It was a woman, dressed in a richly embroidered oilcloak streaming with water. She held an alchemical globe in her hands, and by its pale light Jean could see that she was not young." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jean scanned the curb behind her. No carriage, no litter, no escort of any sort-just misty darkness and the patter of the rain. A local? A fellow guest of the Villa Suvela?\n\n\"I, uh... can I be of assistance, madam?\"\n\n\"I believe we can be of assistance to one another. If I might come in?\" She had a soft and lovely voice, with something very close to a Lashani accent. Close, but not exact.\n\n\"We are... that is, I'm sorry, but we have some difficulty at the moment. My friend is ill.\"\n\n\"I know they took your furniture.\"\n\n\"You do?\"\n\n\"And I know that you and your friend didn't have much else to begin with.\"\n\n\"Madam, you seem to have meat a disadvantage.\"\n\n\"And you seem to have me out in the rain.\"\n\n\"Um.\" Jean shuffled the dagger and made it vanish up his tunic sleeve. \"Well, my friend, as I said, is gravely ill. You should be aware-\"\n\n\"I don't mind.\" She entered the instant Jean's resolution wavered, and gracefully got out of the way as he closed the door behind her. \"After all, poison is only contagious at dinner parties.\"\n\n\"How the hell... are you a physiker?\"\n\n\"Hardly.\"\n\n\"Are you with Cortessa?\"\n\nThe woman only laughed at that, and threw back the hood of her oilcloak. She was about fifty, the well-tended sort of fifty that only wealth could make possible, and her hair was the color of dry autumn wheat with currents of silver at the temples. She had a squarish face, with disconcertingly wide, dark eyes." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Here, take this.\" She tossed the alchemical globe to Jean, who caught it by reflex. \"I know they took your lights, too.\"\n\n\"Um, thank you, but-\"\n\n\"My, my.\" The woman unclasped her cloak and spun it off her shoulders as she strolled into the inner apartment. Her coat and skirts were richly brocaded with silver threads, and puffs of silver lace from beneath her cuffs half-covered her hands. She glanced at Locke. \"Ill would seem to bean understatement.\"\n\n\"Forgive me for not getting up,\" said Locke. \"And for not offering you a seat. And not being dressed. And for not... giving a damn.\"\n\n\"Down to the last dregs of your charm, I see.\"\n\n\"Down to the last dregs of my everything. Who are you, then?\"\n\nThe woman shook out her oilcloak, then threw it over Locke like a blanket.\n\n\"Th-thank you.\"\n\n\"It's difficult to have a serious conversation with someone whose dignity is compromised, Locke.\"\n\nThe next sound in the room was that of Jean slamming home the bolt on the front door. In an instant he returned to the inner apartment, knife in hand. He tossed the light-globe onto the bed, where Locke prevented it from bouncing onto the floor.\n\n\"In faith,\" said Jean, \"my patience for mysterious shit went out that door with the money and the furniture. So you explain how you know that name, and I won't have to feel guilty for-\"\n\n\"I doubt you'd survive what would happen if you acted on that impulse, Jean Tannen. I know your pride wouldn't. Put your blade away.\"\n\n\"Like hell!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Poor Gentlemen Bastards,\" said the woman softly. \"So far from home. But always in our sight.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Jean in a disbelieving whisper.\n\n\"Oh, gods,\" said Locke. He coughed and closed his eyes. \"It's you. I suspected you'd kick our door down sooner or later.\"\n\n\"You sound disappointed.\" The woman frowned. \"As though you'd just failed to avoid an awkward social call. Would you really find death preferable to a little conversation, Locke?\"\n\n\"Little conversations with Bondsmagi never end well.\"\n\n\"You're the reason we're here,\" growled Jean. \"You and your games in Tal Verrar. Your damned letters!\"\n\n\"Not entirely,\" said the woman.\n\n\"You didn't scare us in the Night Market.\" Jean's grip tightened on the hilt of his blade, and the pain of his recent beating was entirely forgotten. \"You don't fucking scare us now!\"\n\n\"Then you don't know us at all.\"\n\n\"I think I do. And I don't give a damn about your gods-damned rules!\"\n\nHe was already in motion, and her back was to him. She had no chance to speak or gesture with her hands; his left arm went around her neck and he slammed the dagger home as hard as he could, directly between her shoulder blades." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "THE WOMAN'S flesh was warm and solid beneath Jean's arm one moment, and in the next his blade bit empty air.\n\nJean had faced many fast opponents in his life, but never one that dissolved instantly at his touch. That wasn't human speed; it was sorcery.\n\nHis chance was gone.\n\nHe inhaled sharply, and a cold shudder ran down his back, the old familiar sensation of a misstep made and a blow about to fall. His pulse beat like a drum inside his skull, and he waited for the pain of whatever reprisal was coming-\n\n\"Oh yes,\" said their visitor mildly from somewhere behind him. \"That would have been very clever of me, Jean Tannen. Leaving myself at the mercy of a strongman and his grudges.\"\n\nJean turned slowly, and saw that the woman was now standing about six feet to his left, by the window where the linens table had once been.\n\n\"I hold your true name like a caged bird,\" she said. \"Your hands and eyes will deceive you if you try to harm me.\"\n\n\"Gods,\" said Jean, suddenly overcome by avast sense of weary frustration. \"Must you play with your food?\" He sat down on the edge of Locke's bed and threw his knife at the floor, where it stuck quivering in the wood. \"Just kill me like a fucking normal person. I won't be your toy.\"\n\n\"What will you be?\"\n\n\"I'll standstill and be boring. Get it over with.\"\n\n\"Why do you keep assuming I'm hereto kill you?\"\n\n\"If not kill, then something worse.\"\n\n\"I have no intention of murdering either of you. Ever.\" The woman folded her hands in front of her chest. \"What more proof do you need than the fact that you're still alive? Could you have stopped me?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You're not gods,\" said Locke, weakly. \"You might have us at your mercy, but we've had one of you at ours before.\"\n\n\"Is that meant to be some poor cousin to a threat? A reminder that you just happened to be present when the Falconer's terrible judgment finally got the best of him?\"\n\n\"How is dear Falconer these days?\" asked Locke.\n\n\"Well kept. In Karthain.\" The woman sighed. \"Ashe was when agents of Camorr brought him home. Witless and comatose.\"\n\n\"He didn't seem to react well to pain,\" said Jean.\n\n\"And you imagine it was your torture that drove him mad?\"\n\n\"Can't have been our conversation,\" said Locke.\n\n\"His real problem is self-inflicted. You see, we can deaden our minds to any suffering of the flesh. But that art requires caution. It's extremely dangerous to use it in haste.\"\n\n\"I'm delighted to hear that,\" said Locke. \"You're saying that when he tried to escape the pain-\"\n\n\"His mind jailed itself, in a haze of his own making,\" said the woman. \"And so we've been unable to correct his condition.\"\n\n\"Marvelous,\" said Locke. \"I don't really care how or why it happened, I'm still glad that it did. In fact I encourage the rest of you to use that power in haste.\"\n\n\"You do many of us an injustice,\" said the woman.\n\n\"Bitch, if I had the power I'd pull your heart out of your chest and use it fora handball,\" said Locke, coughing. \"I'd do it to all of you. You people kill anyone you like and fuck with the lives of those that treat you fairly for it.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Despising us must be rather like staring into a mirror, then.\"\n\n\"I despise you,\" said Locke, straining to heave himself up, \"for Calo and Galdo, and for Bug, and for Nazca and Ezri, and for all the time we... wasted in... Tal Verrar.\" Red-faced and shuddering, he fell back to the empty bed.\n\n\"You're murderers and thieves,\" said the woman. \"You leave a trail of confusion and outrage wherever you go. You've brought down at least one government, and prevented the destruction of another for sentimental reasons. Can you really keep a straight face when you damn us for doing as we please?\"\n\n\"We can,\" said Jean. \"And I can take the matter of Ezri very personally.\"\n\n\"Would you even have met the woman if we hadn't intervened in your affairs? Would you have gone to sea?\"\n\n\"That's not for any of us to say-\"\n\n\"So we own your misfortunes entirely, yet receive no credit for happier accidents.\"\n\n\"I-\"\n\n\"We've interfered here and there, Jean, but you're flattering yourself if you imagine that we've drawn such an intricate design around you. The woman died in battle, and we had nothing to do with that. I'm sorry for your loss.\"\n\n\"Are you capable of feeling sorry for anything?\"\n\nThe woman came toward Jean, reaching outwith her left hand, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to fling himself away. He rose to his feet and stared fiercely down at her as she set warm fingers gently against his cheek.\n\n\"Time is precious,\" she said. \"I lift my ban upon you, Jean Tannen. This is my real flesh against yours. I might be able to stop you if you try to harm me, but now the matter is much less certain. So what will you do? Must we fight now, or can we talk?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Jean shook; the urge to take her at her word, to smash her down, was rising hot and red within him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He would have to strike as fast as he ever had in his life, as hard as muscle and sinew could allow. Break her skull, throttle her, bear her down beneath his full weight, and pray to the gods he did enough damage to postpone whatever word or gesture she would utter in return.\n\nThey stood therefor along, tense moment, perfectly still, with her dark eyes meeting his unblinkingly. Then his right hand darted up and closed around her left wrist, savagely tight. He could feel thin bones under thin skin, and he knew that one good sharp twist-\n\nThe woman flinched. Real fear shone out from the depths of those eyes, the briefest flash before her vast self-possession rolled in again like resurging waters to drown her human weakness. But it had been there, genuine as the flesh beneath his fingers. Jean loosened his grip, closed his eyes, and exhaled slowly.\n\n\"I'll be damned,\" he said. \"I don't think you're lying.\"\n\n\"This is very important,\" she whispered.\n\nJean kept his right hand where it was, and reached up with his left to push back the silver lace that sprouted from her jacket cuff. Black rings were tattooed around her wrist, precise lines on pale skin.\n\n\"Five rings,\" said Locke. \"All I ever heard was that more is better. Just how many can one of you people have, anyway?\"\n\n\"This many,\" said the woman with a hint of a smirk.\n\nJean released her arm and took a step back. She held her left hand up beside her head and stroked the tattoos gently with the fingers of her other hand. The blackness became silver, rippling silver, as though she wore bracelets of liquid moonlight." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ashe stared at the eerie glow, Jean felt a cold itch behind his eyes, and a hard pressure against the fingertips of his right hand. Reeling, he saw images flash in his mind-fold upon fold of pale silk, needles punching in and out of delicate lace, the rough edge of a cloth unraveling into threads-the pressure on his fingers was an actual needle, moving up and down, in an endless steady dance across the cloth....\n\n\"Oh,\" he muttered, putting a hand to his forehead as the sensations receded. \"What the hell was that?\"\n\n\"Me,\" said the woman. \"Ina manner of speaking. Have you ever recalled someone by the scent of their tobacco, or a perfume, or the feel of their skin? Deep memories without words?\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" said Locke, massaging his temples. Jean guessed that he'd somehow shared the brief vision.\n\n\"In my society, we speak mind to mind. We... announce ourselves using such impressions. We construct images of certain memories or passions. We call them sigils.\" She hitched her laced sleeve backup over her wrist, where the black rings had entirely lost their ghostly gleam, and smiled. \"Now that I've shared mine with you, you're less likely to jump out of your skin if I ever need to speak mind to mind, rather than voice to ear.\"\n\n\"What the hell are you?\" said Jean.\n\n\"There are four of us,\" said the woman. \"In an ideal world, the wisest and most powerful of the fifth-circles. If nothing else, we do get to live in the biggest houses.\"\n\n\"You rule the Bondsmagi,\" said Locke, incredulously.\n\n\"Rule is too strong a term. We do occasionally manage to avert total chaos.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You have a name?\"\n\n\"Patience.\"\n\n\"What, you have some rule against telling us now?\"\n\n\"No, it's what I'm called. Patience.\"\n\n\"No shit? Your peers must think pretty highly of you.\"\n\n\"It doesn't mean anything, anymore than a girl named Violet needs to be purple. It's a title. Archedama Patience. So, have we decided that nobody's going to be murdering anyone here?\"\n\n\"I suppose that depends on what you want to talk about,\" said Jean.\n\n\"The pair of you,\" said Patience. \"I've been minding your business for sometime now. Starting with the fragments I could pullout of the Falconer's memories. Our agents retrieved his possessions from Camorr after he was... crippled. Among them a knife formerly belonging to one of the Anatolius sisters.\"\n\n\"A knife with my blood on it,\" said Jean.\n\n\"From that we had your trail easily enough.\"\n\n\"And from that you fucked up our lives.\"\n\n\"I need you to understand,\" said Patience, \"just how little you understand. I saved your lives in Tal Verrar.\"\n\n\"Funny, I don't recall seeing you there,\" said Jean.\n\n\"The Falconer has friends,\" said Patience. \"Cohorts, followers, tools. For all of his flaws he was very popular. You saw their parlor tricks in the Night Market, but that was all I permitted. Without my intervention, they would have killed you.\"\n\n\"You can call that mess \"parlor tricks,\"\" said Jean. \"That interference in Tal Verrar still made a hell of a problem for us.\"\n\n\"Better than death, surely,\" said Patience. \"And kinder by far than I might have been, given the circumstances.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Circumstances?\"\n\n\"The Falconer was arrogant, vicious, misguided. He was acting in obedience to a contract, which we consider a sacred obligation, but I won't deny that he amplified the brutality of the affair beyond what was called for.\"\n\n\"He was going to help turn hundreds of people into empty shells. Into gods-damned furniture. That wasn't brutal enough?\" said Jean.\n\n\"They were part of the contract. You and your friends were not.\"\n\n\"Well, if this is some sort of apology, go to hell,\" said Locke, coughing. \"I don't care what a humane old witch you think you are, and I don't care how or why the Falconer went wrong in the head. If I'd had more time I would have used every second of it to bleed him. All he got was the thinnest shred of what he really deserved.\"\n\n\"That's more true than you know, Locke. Oh, so much truer than you know.\" Patience folded her hands together and sighed. \"And no one comprehends it quite as well as I do. After all, the Falconer is my son.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "THE WORLD BROADENED for Locke Lamora in the summer of the seventy-seventh Year of Sendovani, the summer after Beth vanished, the summer he was sold out of the Thiefmaker's care and into that of Father Chains, the famous Eyeless Priest at the Temple of Perelandro. Suddenly his old worries and pains were gone, though they were replaced by afresh set of bafflements on a daily basis.\n\n\"And what if a priest or priestess of another order should walk by?\" asked Chains, adjusting the hooded white robe the Sanza twins had just thrown over Locke's head.\n\n\"I make the sign of our, um, joined service.\" Locke enfolded his left hand within his right and bowed his head until it nearly touched his thumbs. \"And I don't speak unless spoken to.\"\n\n\"Good. And if you cross paths with an initiate of another order?\"\n\n\"I give the blessing for troubles to stay behind them.\" Locke held out his right hand, palm up, and swept it up as though he was pushing something over his left shoulder.\n\n\"And?\"\n\n\"Um, I greet if greeted... and say nothing otherwise?\"\n\n\"What if you meet an initiate of Perelandro?\"\n\n\"Always greet?\"\n\n\"You missed something.\"\n\n\"Um. Oh yeah. Sign of joined service. Always greet. Speak, ah, cordially with initiates and shut my mouth for anyone, um, higher.\"\n\n\"What about the alternate signals for when it's raining on a Penance Day?\" said one of the Sanza twins.\n\n\"Um...\" Locke coughed nervously into his hands. \"I don't... I'm not sure...\"\n\n\"There is no alternate signal for when it's raining on a Penance Day. Or any other day,\" muttered Chains. \"Well, now you look the part. And I think we can trust you with exterior ritual. Not bad for four days of learning. Most initiates get a few months before they're trusted to count above ten without taking their shoes off.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Keep the narrative going for the author.\nTags: fantasy, heist, theater\nAuthor: Scott Lynch\nTitle: The Republic of Thieves\nChapter: 23" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "THE WORLD BROADENED for Locke Lamora in the summer of the seventy-seventh Year of Sendovani, the summer after Beth vanished, the summer he was sold out of the Thiefmaker's care and into that of Father Chains, the famous Eyeless Priest at the Temple of Perelandro. Suddenly his old worries and pains were gone, though they were replaced by afresh set of bafflements on a daily basis.\n\n\"And what if a priest or priestess of another order should walk by?\" asked Chains, adjusting the hooded white robe the Sanza twins had just thrown over Locke's head.\n\n\"I make the sign of our, um, joined service.\" Locke enfolded his left hand within his right and bowed his head until it nearly touched his thumbs. \"And I don't speak unless spoken to.\"\n\n\"Good. And if you cross paths with an initiate of another order?\"\n\n\"I give the blessing for troubles to stay behind them.\" Locke held out his right hand, palm up, and swept it up as though he was pushing something over his left shoulder.\n\n\"And?\"\n\n\"Um, I greet if greeted... and say nothing otherwise?\"\n\n\"What if you meet an initiate of Perelandro?\"\n\n\"Always greet?\"\n\n\"You missed something.\"\n\n\"Um. Oh yeah. Sign of joined service. Always greet. Speak, ah, cordially with initiates and shut my mouth for anyone, um, higher.\"\n\n\"What about the alternate signals for when it's raining on a Penance Day?\" said one of the Sanza twins.\n\n\"Um...\" Locke coughed nervously into his hands. \"I don't... I'm not sure...\"\n\n\"There is no alternate signal for when it's raining on a Penance Day. Or any other day,\" muttered Chains. \"Well, now you look the part. And I think we can trust you with exterior ritual. Not bad for four days of learning. Most initiates get a few months before they're trusted to count above ten without taking their shoes off.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Chains stood and adjusted his own white robe. He and his boys were in the sanctuary of the Temple of Perelandro, a dank cave of a room that proclaimed not only the humility of Perelandro's followers but their apparent indifference to the smell of mildew.\n\n\"Now then,\" said Chains, \"twit dexter and twit sinister-fetch my namesakes.\"\n\nCalo and Galdo scrambled to the wall where their master's purely ceremonial fetters lay, joined to a huge iron bolt in the stone. They raced one another to drag the chains across the floor and snap the manacles on the big man.\n\n\"Aha,\" said the first to finish, \"you're slower than an underwater fart!\"\n\n\"Funny,\" said the second. \"Hey, what's that on your chin?\"\n\n\"Huh?\"\n\n\"Looks like a fist!\"\n\nIn an instant the space in front of Locke was filled with a mad whirl of Sanza limbs, and for the hundredth time in his few days as Chains' ward, Locke lost track of which brother was which. The twins giggled madly as they wrestled with one another, then howled in unison as Chains reached outwith calm precision and caught them each by an ear.\n\n\"You two savants,\" he said, \"can go put your own robes on, and carry the kettle out after Locke and I take our places.\"\n\n\"You said we weren't going to sit the steps today!\" said one of the brothers.\n\n\"You're not. I'm just not in the mood to carry the kettle. After you bring it out, you can go downstairs and mind your chores.\"\n\n\"Chores?\"\n\n\"Remember those customs papers I said I was forging up last night? They weren't customs papers, they were arithmetic problems. A couple pages for each of you. There's charcoal, ink, and parchment in the kitchen. Show your work.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The sound of simultaneously disappointed Sanza brothers was curiously tuneful. Locke had already heard the twins practicing their singing voices, which were quite good, and by accident or design they often harmonized.\n\n\"Now, get the door, Locke.\" Chains tied on the last and most important part of his costume: the blindfold precisely adjusted to suggest his total helplessness while still allowing him to avoid tripping over the hem of his robe. \"The sun is up, and all that money out there won't steal itself.\"\n\nLocke worked the mechanism concealed behind one of the room's moldering tapestries, and there was a faint rumble within the temple walls. A vertical line of burning gold appeared on the eastern wall as the doors creaked apart, and the sanctuary was quickly flooded with warm morning light. Chains held out a hand, and Locke ran over to take it.\n\n\"Ready?\"\n\n\"If you say I am,\" whispered Locke.\n\nHand in hand, the imaginary Eyeless Priest and his newest imaginary initiate walked out of their imaginary stone prison, into a morning heat so fierce that Locke could smell it baking up from the city's stones and taste it on his tongue.\n\nFor the first of a thousand times, they went out together to rob passersby, as surely as if they were muggers, armed with nothing more than a few words and an empty copper kettle." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "IN HIS first few months with Father Chains, Locke began to unlearn the city of Camorr he'd once known and discover something entirely different in its place. As a Shades\" Hill boy, he'd known daylight in flashes, exploring the upper world and then running back to the graveyard's familiar darkness like a diver surfacing before his breath ran out. The Hill was full of dangers, but they were known dangers, while the city above was full of infinite mysteries.\n\nNow the sun, which had once seemed to him like a great eye burning down in judgment, did nothing but make his head warm as he sat the temple steps in his little white robe. A happier boy might have been bored by the long hours of begging, but Locke had learned patience in the surest way possible-by hiding for his own survival. Spending half a night hugging the same shadow was nothing extraordinary to him, and he luxuriated in the idea of lazing around while people actually brought money to him.\n\nHe studied the rhythms of daily life in the Temple District. When nobody was near enough to eavesdrop, Chains would quietly answer Locke's questions, and slowly the great mass of Camorri revealed themselves to him. What had once been a sea of mystifying details resolved bit by bit until Locke could identify the priests of the twelve orders, sort the very rich from the merely wealthy, and make a dozen other useful distinctions.\n\nIt still made his heart jump to see a patrol of yellowjackets walking past the temple steps, but their polite indifference was a pure delight. Some of them even saluted. It amazed Locke that the thin cotton robe he wore could provide him with such armor against a power that had previously seemed so arbitrary and absolute.\n\nConstables. Saluting him! Gods above.\n\nInside the temple, down in the secret burrow that lay beneath its façade of poverty, further transmutations were underway. Locke ate well for the first time ever, sampling all the cuisines of Camorr under Chains' enthusiastic direction. Although he started as an inept hindrance to the more experienced Sanzas, he quickly learned how to shake weevils out of flour, how to slice meats, and how to tell a filleting knife from an eel-fork." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Bless us all,\" said Chains one night, patting Locke on the belly. \"You're not the ragged little corpse that came to us all those weeks ago. Food and sunlight have worked an act of necromancy. You're still small, but now you look like you could stand up to a moderate breeze.\"\n\n\"Excellent,\" said one of the Sanzas. \"Soon he'll be fat, and we can butcher him like all the others fora Penance Day roast.\"\n\n\"What my brother means to say,\" said the other twin, \"is that all the others died of purely natural causes, and you have nothing to fear from us. Now have some more bread.\"\n\nLife in the care of Father Chains offered Locke more comfort than Shades'Hill ever had. He had plenty to eat, new clothes, and a cot of his own to sleep on. Nothing more dangerous than the attempted pranks of the Sanza twins menaced him each night. Yet strangely enough Locke would never have called this new life easier than the one he'd left.\n\nWithin days of his arrival he'd been trained as an'initiate of Perelandro,\" and the lessons only grew more intense from there. Chains was nothing like the Thiefmaker-he didn't allow Calo and Galdo to actually terrorize Locke, and he didn't punish failure by pulling out a butcher's cleaver. But Chains could be disappointed. Oh, yes. On the steps of the temple he could marshal his mysterious powers to sway passersby, to plead logically or sermonize furiously until they parted with hard-earned coins, and in his tutelage he focused those same powers on Locke until it seemed that Chains' disappointment was a rebuke worse than a beating.\n\nIt was a strange new set of affairs, to be sure. Locke feared what Chains might do if provoked (the leather pouch Locke was forced to wear around his neck, with the shark's tooth inside, was an inescapable reminder), but he didn't actually fear Chains himself. The big bearded man seemed so genuinely pleased when Locke got his lessons right, seemed to give off waves of approval that warmed like sunlight. With his two extremes of mood, sharp disappointment and bright satisfaction, Chains drove all of his boys on through their constant tests." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There were the obvious matters of Locke's daily training-he learned to cook, to dress, to keep himself reasonably clean. He learned more about the order of Perelandro and his fictional place within it. He learned about the meanings of flags on carriages and coats of arms on guards\" tabards, about the history of the Temple District, about its landmarks.\n\nMost difficult of all, at first, he learned to read and write. Two hours a day were spent at this, before and after sitting the steps. He began with fragmentary knowledge of the thirty letters of the Therin alphabet, and he could do simple sums when he had counters in front of him, like coins. But Chains had him reciting and scribing his letters until they danced in his dreams, and from there he moved to puzzling out small words, then bigger ones, then full sentences.\n\nChains began leaving written instructions for him each morning, and Locke wasn't allowed to break his fast until he'd deciphered them. Around the time short paragraphs ceased to be his match in a battle of wits, Locke found himself up against arithmetic with slates and chalk. Arriving at the answers in his head was no longer sufficient.\n\n\"Twenty-six less twelve,\" said Chains one night in early autumn. It was an unusually pleasant time in Camorr, with warm days and mild nights that neither drenched nor scalded the city. Chains was absorbed in a game of Catch-the-Duke against Galdo, alternately moving his pieces and giving mathematical problems to Locke. The three of them sat at the kitchen table, beneath the golden light of Chains'fabulous alchemical chandelier, while Calo sat on a nearby counter plucking at a sad little instrument called a road-man's harp.\n\n\"Um...\" Locke scribbled on his slate, being careful to show his work properly. \"Fourteen.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well done,\" said Chains. \"Add twenty-one and thirteen.\"\n\n\"Now go forth,\" said Galdo, pushing one of his pieces along the squares of the game board. \"Go forth and die for King Galdo.\"\n\n\"Sooner rather than later,\" said Chains, countering the move immediately.\n\n\"Since you two are at war,\" said Calo, \"how do you like this?\"\n\nHe began to pluck a tune on his simplified harp, and in a soft, high voice he sang:\n\n\"From fair old Camorr to far Godsgate Hill,\n\nThree thousand bold men marched to war.\n\nA full hundred score are lying there still,\n\nIn red soil they claimed for Camorr.\"\n\nGaldo cleared his throat as he fiddled with his pieces on the board, and when his twin continued he joined in. Barely a heartbeat passed before the Sanzas found their eerie, note-perfect harmony:\n\n\"From fair old Camorr to far Godsgate Hill,\n\nWent a duke who would not be a slave.\n\nHis Grace in his grave is lying there still,\n\nIn red soil he claimed for the brave.\n\n\"From fair old Camorr to far Godsgate Hill,\n\nIs a hundred hard leagues overland.\n\nBut our host slain of old is lying there still,\n\nIn soil made red by their stand!\"\n\n\"Commendable playing,\" muttered Chains, \"wasted on a nothing of a song shat out by soft-handed fops to justify an old man's folly.\"\n\n\"Everyone sings it in the taverns,\" said Calo.\n\n\"They're supposed to. It's artless doggerel meant to dress up the stink of a pointless slaughter. But I was briefly apart of those three thousand men, and nearly everyone I knew in those days is lying there still. Kindly sing something more cheerful.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Calo bit the inside of his cheek, retuned his harp, and then began again:\n\n\"Said the reeve to the maid who was fresh to the farm\n\n\"Let me show you the beasts of the yard!\"\n\nHere's a cow that gives milk, and a pig that's for ham\n\nHere's a cur and a goat and a lamb;\n\nHere's a horse tall and proud, and a well-trained old hawk,\n\nBut the thing you should see is this excellent cock!\"\n\n\"Where could you possibly have learned that?\" shouted Chains. Calo broke up in a fit of giggles, but Galdo picked up the song with a deadpan expression on his face:\n\n\"Oh, some cocks rise early and some cocks stand tall,\n\nBut the cock now in question works hardest of all!\n\nAnd they say hard's a virtue, in a cock's line of work\n\nSo what say you, lovely, will you give it a-\"\n\nThere was the unmistakable echoing slam of the burrow's secret entrance, in the Elderglass-lined tunnel beside the kitchen, being thrown shut by someone who didn't care that they were overheard. Chains rolled to his feet. Calo and Galdo ran behind him, putting themselves in easy reach of the kitchen's knives. Locke stood upon his chair, arithmetic slate held up like a shield.\n\nThe instant he saw who it was coming around the corner, the slate slipped from his fingers and clattered against the floor.\n\n\"My dear,\" cried Chains, \"you've comeback to us early!\"\n\nShe was, if anything, taller even than Locke remembered, and her hair was well-dyed a uniform shade of light brown. But it washer. It was undeniably Beth." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"YOU CAN'T be here,\" said Locke. \"You're dead!\"\n\n\"I certainly can be here. I live here.\" Beth dropped the brown leather bag she was carrying and unbound her hair, letting it fall to her shoulders. \"Who might you be?\"\n\n\"I... um... you don't know?\"\n\n\"Should I?\"\n\nLocke's astonishment merged with a sour disappointment. While the gears of his mind turned furiously to conjure a reply, she studied him. Her eyes widened.\n\n\"Oh, gods. The Lamora boy, isn't it?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Chains.\n\n\"Bought him as well, have you?\"\n\n\"I've paid more for some of my lunches, but yes, I've taken him from your old master.\" Chains ruffled Beth's hair with fatherly affection, and she kissed the back of his hand.\n\n\"But you were dead,\" insisted Locke. \"They said you'd drowned!\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" she said, mildly.\n\n\"But why?\"\n\n\"Our Sabetha has a complicated past,\" said Chains. \"When I took her out of Shades' Hill, I arranged a bit of theater to cover the trail.\"\n\nBeth. Sabetha. They'd mentioned Sabetha at least a dozen times since he'd come to live here. Locke suddenly felt like an idiot for not connecting the two names before... but then, he'd thought she was dead, hadn't he? Beneath his astonishment, his embarrassment, his frustration, a warmth was rising in the pit of his stomach. Beth was alive... and she lived here!\n\n\"Well, where have... where did you go?\" Locke asked.\n\n\"For training,\" said Sabetha." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And how was it?\" asked Chains.\n\n\"Mistress Sibella said that I wasn't as vulgar and clumsy as most of the Camorri she teaches.\"\n\n\"So you... are, um-\" said Locke.\n\n\"High praise, coming from that gilded prune,\" said Chains, ignoring Locke. \"Let's see if she was on the mark. Galdo, take Sabetha's side fora four-step. Complar entant.\"\n\n\"Must I?\"\n\n\"Good question. Must I continue feeding you?\"\n\nGaldo hurried out from behind Chains and gave Sabetha a bow so exaggerated his nose nearly brushed the floor. \"Enchanted, demoiselle. May I beg the pleasure of a dance? My patron won't feed me anymore if I don't pretend to enjoy this crap.\"\n\n\"What a bold little monkey you are,\" said the girl. The two of them moved into the widest clear area of the room, between the table and the counters.\n\n\"Calo,\" said Chains, \"if you would.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, I have it.\" Calo fiddled with his harp fora moment before he began to pluck out a fast, rhythmic tune, more complex than the ditties he'd been playing before.\n\nGaldo and Sabetha moved in unison, slowly at first but gaining confidence and speed as the tune went on. Locke watched, baffled but fascinated, as they danced in a manner that was more controlled than anything he'd ever seen in a tavern or aback alley. The key to the dance seemed to be that they would strike the ground with their heels forcefully, four taps between each major movement of the arms. They joined hands, twirled, unjoined, switched places, and all the while kept up a near-perfect rhythm with their feet." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It's popular with the swells,\" said Chains, and Locke realized he was speaking for his benefit. \"All the dancers form a circle, and the dancing master calls out partners. The chosen couple dances in the main, in the center of everything, and if they screw it up, well... penalties. Teasing. Romantic frustration, I would imagine.\"\n\nLocke was only half-listening, his eyes and thoughts lost in the dance. In Galdo he recognized the nervous quickness of a fellow orphan, the grace born of need that separated the living in Shades'Hill from the likes of No-Teeth. Yet Sabetha had that and something more; not just speed but fluidity. Her knees and elbows seemed to vanish as she danced, and to Locke's eyes she became all curves, whirls, effortless circles. Her cheeks turned red with exertion, and the golden glow of the chandelier lightened her brown hair until Locke, hypnotized, could almost imagine it red as well....\n\nChains clapped three times, ending the dance if not Locke's spell. If Sabetha knew she was being stared at, she was either too polite or too disdainful to stare back.\n\n\"I can see that's a fountain of gold I didn't shit out in vain,\" said Chains. \"Well done, girl. Even having Galdo fora partner didn't seem to hold you back.\"\n\n\"Does it ever?\" Sabetha smiled, still acting as though Locke wasn't in the room, and drifted back toward the table where Galdo and Chains had been playing their game. She glanced over the board fora few seconds, then said, \"You're doomed, Sanza.\"\n\n\"Ina donkey's dick I am!\"\n\n\"Actually, I've got him in three moves,\" said Chains, settling back down into his chair with a smile. \"But I was going to spin it out fora while longer.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "While Galdo fretted over his position on the board, he and Calo and Sabetha fell into an animated conversation with Chains on subjects of which Locke was ignorant-dances, noble customs, people he'd never heard of, cities that were only names to him. Chains grew more and more boisterous until, after a few minutes, he gestured to Calo.\n\n\"Fetch us down something sweet,\" he said. \"We'll have a toast to Sabetha's return.\"\n\n\"Lashani Black Sherry? I've always wanted to try it.\" Calo opened a cabinet and carefully withdrew a greenish glass bottle that was full of something ink-dark. \"Gods, it looks so disgusting!\"\n\n\"Spoken like the midwife who delivered the pair of you,\" said Chains. \"Bring glasses for all of us, and for the toasting.\"\n\nThe four children gathered around the table while Chains arranged the glasses and opened the bottle. Locke strategically placed the Sanzas between himself and Sabetha, giving him a better angle to continue staring at her. Chains then filled a glass to the brim with the sherry, which rippled black and gold in the chandelier light.\n\n\"This glass for the patron and protector, the Crooked Warden, our Father of Necessary Pretexts.\" Chains carefully pushed the glass aside from the others. \"Tonight he gives us the return of our friend, his servant Sabetha.\" Chains raised his left hand to his lips and blew into his palm. \"My words. My breath. These things bind my promise. A hundred gold pieces, duly stolen from honest men and women, to be cast into the sea in the dark of the Orphan's Moon. We are grateful for Sabetha's safety.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "The Orphan's Moon, Locke knew, came once a year, in late winter, when the world's largest two moons were in their dark phases together." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At the Midsummer-mark, commoners who knew their dates of birth legally turned a year older. The Orphan's Moon meant the same thing for those, like him, whose precise ages were mysteries.\n\nNow Chains filled glasses and passed them out. Locke was surprised to see that while the other children received quarter-glasses of the alarmingly dark sherry, his own was mostly full. Chains grinned at him and raised his glass.\n\n\"Deep pockets poorly guarded,\" he said.\n\n\"Watchmen asleep at their posts,\" said Sabetha.\n\n\"The city to nurture us and the night to hide us,\" said Calo.\n\n\"Friends to help spend the loot!\" As soon as Galdo finished the toast Locke had already heard many times since coming to the Gentlemen Bastards, five glasses went up to five sets of lips. Locke kept both hands on his for fear of spilling it.\n\nThe black sherry hit Locke's throat with a blast of sweet flavors-cream, honey, raspberries, and many others he had no hope of naming. Warm prickly vapors seemed to slide up into his nose and waft behind his eyes, until it felt like he was being tickled from inside his own skull by dozens of feathers at once. Knowing how ill-mannered it would be to make a mess of a solemn toast, he bent every ounce of his will to gulping the full glass down.\n\n\"Waugh,\" he said as soon as he was finished. It was across between a polite cough and the last gasp of a dying bird. He pounded on his chest. \"Waugh, waugh, waugggggh!\"\n\n\"Concur,\" said Galdo in a harsh whisper. \"Love it.\"\n\n\"All the outward virtues of liquid shit,\" said Chains, musing on his empty glass, \"and a taste like pure joy pissed out by happy angels. Mind you, it doesn't signify in the world at large. Don't drink anything else that looks like this unless you want a swift release from mortal concerns.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I wonder,\" said Locke, \"don't they ever make wine-colored wine in other cities?\" He stared down into his own glass, which, like the fingers holding it, was beginning to blur around the edges.\n\n\"Somethings are much more interesting when alchemists get their hands on them,\" said Chains. \"Your head, for example. Black sherry is renowned for kicking like a mule.\"\n\n\"Yesh, renowned,\" said Locke, grinning stupidly. His belly was warm, his head seemed not to weigh an ounce, and his intentions were disconnected from his actual movements by a heartbeat interval. He was aware that, if not already drunk, he was headed for it like a dart thrown at a wall.\n\n\"Now, Locke,\" said Chains, his voice seeming to come from a distance, \"I've a few things to discuss with these three. Perhaps you'd like to get to bed early tonight.\"\n\nA sharp pang pierced the bubble of warm contentment that had all but swallowed him. Go to bed early? Leave the company of Sabetha, whose blurry loveliness he was fixating on, barely managing to grudge himself the time required to blink every now and then?\n\n\"Um,\" he said. \"Wha?\"\n\n\"It wasn't a request, Locke,\" said Chains gently. \"You've a busy evening tomorrow, I can assure you, and you need all the sleep you can get.\"\n\n\"Tomorrow?\"\n\n\"You'll see.\" Chains rose, moved around the table, and carefully took Locke's empty glass from his hand. Locke looked down in surprise, having forgotten that he'd been holding it. \"Off you go.\"\n\nA tiny part of Locke's mind, the cold wariness that had been his sentry in Shades\" Hill, realized Chains had long planned to send him, happily befuddled, to an early rest. Even through his wine-induced haze, that stung. He'd been feeling more and more at home, but no sooner had Sabetha walked through the door than it was Streets and Windows allover again, and he was packed off to some dark corner without the privileges enjoyed by the older children." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I,\" he muttered, taking his eyes off Sabetha for the first time in several minutes, but directing his voice at her. \"I will. But... I'm g-glad you're here.\" He felt the urge to say something else, something weighty and witty that would turn that beautiful head of hers and fix her attention to him, a mirror of his own. But even drunk he knew he was more likely to pull rubies out of his ass than he was to speak as older people spoke, with words that were somehow careful and powerful and right. \"Sabetha,\" he half mumbled.\n\n\"Thanks,\" she said, looking at the table.\n\n\"I mean, I knew... you knew I meant you, Sabetha... sorry. I just... I'm glad you're not drowned, you know.\"\n\nMore than anything, at that moment, he just wanted to hear her say his name, call him anything but'him\" or'the Lamora Boy.\" Acknowledge his existence... their partnership in Chains' gang... gods, he would exile himself to bed early every night if he could just hear his name come out from between those thin lips of hers.\n\n\"Goodnight,\" she said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "LOCKE WOKE the next day feeling as though the contents of his skull had been popped out and replaced upside-down.\n\n\"Here,\" said one of the Sanzas, who happened to be sitting next to Locke's cot with a book on his lap. The Sanza (Locke, muddled as he was, could not quite identify which one) passed over a wooden cup of water. It was lukewarm but clean, and Locke gulped it down without delicacy, marveling at how parched he felt.\n\n\"What time is it?\" he croaked when he was finished.\n\n\"Must be past noon.\"\n\n\"Noon? But... my chores...\"\n\n\"No real work today.\" The Sanza stretched and yawned. \"No arithmetic. No Catch-the-Duke. No languages. No dancing.\"\n\n\"No sitting the steps,\" yelled the other Sanza from the next room. \"No swordplay. No knots and ropes. No coins.\"\n\n\"No music,\" said the Sanza with the book. \"No manners. No history. No bloody heraldry.\"\n\n\"What are we doing, then?\"\n\n\"Calo and I are to make sure you can stand up straight,\" said the Sanza with the book. \"Nail you to a plank if we have to.\"\n\n\"And when that's done, you're to do all the dishes.\"\n\n\"Sabetha...\" Locke rubbed his eyes and rolled off his cot. \"She's really one of us?\"\n\n\"Course she is,\" said the Sanza with the book.\n\n\"Is she... here right now?\"\n\n\"Nah. Outwith Chains. Looking into things for tonight.\"\n\n\"What's tonight?\"\n\n\"Dunno. All's we know is the afternoon; and the afternoon, far as you're concerned, is dishes.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "THOUGH ENERGETIC enough when set a task, Calo and Galdo were virtuosos of laziness when left to their own devices. Between subtle interference and overt clowning, they managed to stretch the half hour Locke would ordinarily have needed to tend the dishes into nearly three hours. By the time the secret door to the temple above banged shut behind the returning Father Chains, Locke's fingers were wrinkled and bleached from the alchemical polish he'd been using on the silver.\n\n\"Ah,\" said Chains. \"Good, good. You look more or less among the living. Feeling spry?\"\n\n\"I suppose,\" said Locke.\n\n\"We've a job tonight. Housebreaking. Windows work, and most of it on your little shoulders.\" Chains patted his broad belly and smirked. \"I parted ways with climbing and scampering sometime ago.\"\n\n\"Windows work?\" said Locke, the drudgery of his long afternoon in the kitchen instantly forgotten. \"I... I'd love to. But I thought you, um, didn't do that sort of thing.\"\n\n\"For its own sake, not usually. But I need to find somethings out about you, Locke.\"\n\n\"Oh, good.\" Locke felt his excitement cool slightly. \"Another test. When do they stop?\"\n\n\"When you're buried, my boy.\" Chains knelt and gave Locke a friendly squeeze on the back of his neck. \" When you're under the dirt and colder than a fish's tits. That's when it stops. Now listen.\n\n\"I've got a tip from a friend at Meraggio's.\" Chains bustled about the kitchen, snatching up chalk and one of the slates the children used for their lessons. He sketched on it rapidly. \"Seems a certain olive merchant is looking to marry his useless son to a noble wife. To sweeten the deal sufficiently, he'll need to put his family splendids back into circulation.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"What's that mean?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "said Locke.\n\n\"Means he needs to sell his jewels and things,\" said Calo.\n\n\"Sharp lad. About an hour ago, the merchant's man left the countinghouse with a lot of nice old things in a bag. He's staying at a townhouse in the Razona; just him and two guards. The old man and a bigger retinue are coming in from his estate tomorrow. So tonight we have a bit of an opportunity.\"\n\n\"Why us?\" Locke's excitement was tempered with genuine puzzlement. \"If he's only got two guards, anyone who wanted to could go in therewith a gang.\"\n\n\"Never in life,\" said Chains, chuckling. \"Barsavi won't have it. The Razona's a quiet district where doors don't get kicked in. That's the Peace. Anybody breaks it, they're liable to have their precious bits cutoff and stitched to their eyeballs. So instead of sending in brutes through the door, we send a quiet type through the window.\"\n\nChains turned the slate toward Calo, Galdo, and Locke. The top half was taken up by a rough diagram of houses and their surrounding streets and alleys. Beneath that was a sketch of a necklace, with large ovoid shapes dangling from a thick central collar. Chains tapped one of his fingers against this sketch.\n\n\"One piece,\" he said. \"That's all we're after. One from twenty or so, and they won't have time to put up much of a fuss about it. A gold necklace with nine hanging emeralds. Pop out the stones, send them nine different directions, and meltdown the gold. Untraceable profit.\"\n\n\"How do we do it?\" asked Locke.\n\n\"Well, that's half the fun.\" Chains scratched at his chin. \"You said yourself, it's a test. You'll be working with Sabetha, since she's had more experience at this sort of thing. Calo and Galdo will be your top-eyes; that is, watching the area to cover your ass. I'll be on the ground nearby, but I won't be directly involved. My crooked little wonders get to sort the rest out for themselves.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Locke's heart raced. Test or not, a chance to work together with Sabetha on something exciting? The gods loved him!\n\n\"Where is she now?\"\n\n\"Here.\" Chains pointed to a square sketched on the upper portion of the slate. \"On the Via Selaine. Four-story house with a rooftop garden. That's our target. She'll be nearby until dark; at first moonrise she'll meet you in this alley.\" Chains ran his finger up and down a set of chalk lines, blurring them. \"Once the Sanzas are in position to keep an eye on the street, the rest is up to you and Sabetha.\"\n\n\"That's it, then?\"\n\n\"That's it. And remember, I want one emerald necklace. I don't need two, or the deed to the townhouse, or the bloody crown jewels of Camorr. Tonight's definitely a night for you to underachieve.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "FULL CAMORRI night at last, after a twilight spent nervously fidgeting in an alley, waiting for Sabetha to make contact. Now Locke was with her, upon the roof of the house next door to their target, crouched among the old wooden frames and empty pots of along-untended garden. It was just past second moonrise, and the wide-open sky was on fire with stars, ten thousand flickering white eyes staring down at Locke, as though eager to see him get to work.\n\nThree feet away, a low dark shape against the stone parapet, lay Sabetha. Her only words to him at their meeting had been'Shut up, keep close, and stay quiet.\" He'd done that, following her up the alley wall of the house they now sat upon, using windowsills and deep decorative carvings to haul himself up with little effort. Since then his urge to speak with her had been overruled by his terror of annoying her, and so he fancied that he'd done a fine imitation of a corpse from the moment they'd arrived. When she finally did speak, her soft voice actually startled him.\n\n\"I think they've gone to sleep at last.\"\n\n\"Wh-what? Who?\"\n\n\"The three old women who live here.\" Sabetha set her head against the stones of the rooftop and listened for several moments. \"They sleep on the second floor, but it never hurts to be careful.\"\n\n\"Oh. Of course.\"\n\n\"Never worked a roof before. Isn't that the case, boy?\" Sabetha moved slightly, and so quietly that Locke couldn't hear a single ruffle of her dark tunic and trousers. She peeked over the parapet for no more than the span of a few heartbeats, then crouched back down." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I, um, no. Not like this.\"\n\n\"Well, think you can confine yourself to stealing just what we've been sent for? Or should I have the yellowjackets rouse out bucket-lines in case you burn the Razona down?\"\n\n\"I-I'll do whatever you say. I'll be careful.\"\n\n\"Whatever I say?\" Her face was in silvery-gray shadow, but her eyes caught the starlight as she turned to him, so he could see them clearly. \"You mean it?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes.\" Locke nodded several times. \"On my heart. Come hell or Eldren-fire.\"\n\n\"Good. You might not fuck this up, then.\" She gestured toward the parapet. \"Move slow. Raise up just high enough to get your eyes over the edge. Take a good look.\"\n\nLocke peeked out over the southern parapet of the townhouse; their target house with its thick rooftop garden was to his right, and four stories below him was a clean stretch of cobbled road washed with moonlight. The Razona seemed a gentle, quiet place-no drunks sprawled in gutters, no tavern doors banging constantly open and closed, no yellowjackets moving in squads with truncheons drawn and shields out. Dozens of alchemical globes burned at street level, behind windows and above doors, like bunches of fiery fruit. Only the alleys and rooftops seemed wrapped in anything like real darkness.\n\n\"You see Calo and Galdo?\" asked Sabetha.\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Good. That means they're where they should be. If something goes wrong-if a squad of yellowjackets shows up in the street, let's say-those two will start hollering \"The master wants more wine, the master wants more wine.\"\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What then?\"\n\n\"They run, and we do likewise.\" Sabetha crawled over beside him, and Locke felt his breath catch in his throat. Her next words were spoken into his ear. \"First rule of roof work is, know how you're getting down. Do you?\"\n\n\"Um, same way we came?\"\n\n\"Too slow. Too risky. Climbing down at speed is more dangerous than going up, especially at night.\" She pointed to a thin gray line in the middle of the roof, a line that Locke's eyes followed to a mess of pots and broken trellises. \"I anchored that line when I came up. Demisilk, should get us down to five feet off the ground. If we need to run, throw it over the edge, slide down as fast as you can, and leave it behind. Got it?\"\n\n\"Got it.\"\n\n\"Now, look across here.\" She nudged his head up above the parapet again, and pointed at an alley across the street. \"That's the escape route. You'll have to cross the road, but one of the Sanzas should be in cover there watching for you. Chains is another block or two past that. If it all goes to hell, find a Sanza. Understand?\"\n\n\"Yeah. But what if we don't get caught?\"\n\n\"Same plan, boy. We just do it slower. Ready?\"\n\n\"Sure. Whenever you say. How do we, um, get across?\"\n\n\"Fire plank.\" Sabetha crawled toward the parapet facing their target house, beckoning for him to follow. She gently tapped along wooden board that rested snug against the stonewall. \"In case the place burns up beneath you, you swing it across to the neighbors and hope they like you.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Working quietly and slowly, the two children lifted the fifteen-foot plank to the edge of the parapet and swiveled it out over the alley, Sabetha guiding it while Locke put his full weight on the inner edge. He felt uneasily like a catapult stone about to fly if the other end should fall, but after a few chancy moments Sabetha had the far end of the plank settled on the parapet of their target house. She hopped gracefully atop it, then got down on her hands and knees.\n\n\"One at a time,\" she whispered. \"Stay low and don't hurry.\"\n\nAcross she went, while Locke's heart raced with the familiar excitement of a crime about to get underway. The farm-field smell of the Hangman's Wind filled the air, and a warm breeze caught at Locke's hair. To the northeast loomed the impossibly tall shadows of the Five Towers, with their crowns of silver and gold lanterns, warm artificial constellations mingling with the cold and real stars.\n\nNow came Locke's turn. The board would have been unnervingly narrow for an adult, but someone Locke's size could turnaround on it without bothering to stand up. He went over with ease, rolled off the edge of the plank, and crouched amid the wet smells of a living garden. Dark boughs of leaves rustled above him, and he almost jumped when Sabetha reached out of the shadows and grabbed him by the shoulder.\n\n\"No noise,\" she whispered. \"I'll go in after the necklace. You watch the roof. Make sure the plank stays where we need it.\"\n\n\"Wh-what if something happens?\"\n\n\"Pound the floor three times. If something happens that you can see before I do, won't be anything for us to do but flee anyway. Don't ever use my name if you call out.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I won't. Good... um, good luck-\"\n\nBut she was already gone, and a moment later he heard a faint set of clicks. Somewhere in the garden, Sabetha was picking a lock. A moment later she had it, and the hinges of a door creaked ever so faintly.\n\nLocke stood guard at the plank for many long minutes, constantly glancing around, although he admitted to himself that a dozen grown men could have been hiding in the darkness of the vines and leaves around him. Occasionally he popped above the parapet and glanced back across the narrow bridge. The other rooftop remained reassuringly empty.\n\nLocke was just settling back down from his fourth or fifth peek across the way when he heard a commotion beneath his feet. He knelt down and placed one ear against the warm stone; it was a murmur. One person talking, then another. Arising chorus of adult voices. Then the shouting began.\n\n\"Oh, shit,\" Locke whispered.\n\nThere was a series of thumps from the direction Sabetha had gone, then the loud bang of a door being thrown open. She flew out of the shadows at him, grabbed him by the arms, and heaved him onto the plank.\n\n\"Go, go, go,\" she said, breathlessly. \"Fast as you can.\"\n\n\"What's wrong?\"\n\n\"Just go, gods damn it! I'll steady the plank.\"\n\nLocke scuttled across the fifteen feet to safety as fast as he'd ever moved in his life, so fast that he tumbled off the parapet on arrival and tucked into an ungainly roll to avoid landing teeth-first. He popped up, head spinning, and whirled back toward Sabetha." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Come on,\" he cried. \"Come on!\"\n\n\"The rope,\" she hissed. \"Get down the fucking rope!\"\n\n\"I'll s-steady the plank for you now.\" Locke clamped his hands onto it, gritted his teeth, and braced himself, knowing with some part of his mind just how ridiculous a display of such feeble strength must look. Why was she not coming?\n\n\"THE ROPE,\" she yelled. \"GO!\"\n\nLocke looked up just in time to see tall dark shapes burst out of the garden behind her. Adults. Their arms were reaching for her, but she wasn't trying to escape; she wasn't even turning toward them. Instead her hands were on the plank, and she was-\n\n\"No,\" Locke screamed. \"NO!\"\n\nSabetha was seized from behind and hoisted into the air, but as she went up she managed to swivel her end of the plank just off the parapet and push it into empty space. Locke felt the terrible sensation of that weight tipping and plummeting into the alley, far too much for him to hold back. His end of the plank leapt up and cracked against his chin, knocking him backward, and as he was landing on his posterior he heard the echoing crash of the plank hitting the ground four stories below.\n\n\"GO,\" yelled Sabetha one more time. Her shout ended in a muffled cry, and Locke spat blood as he clambered back to his feet.\n\n\"The other roof!\" Anew voice, a man. \"Get down to the street!\"\n\nLocke wanted to stay, to keep Sabetha insight, to do something for her, but his feet, ever faster than his wits, were already carrying him away. He snatched at the rope as he stumbled along, threw it over the opposite parapet, and without hesitation flung himself over the edge. The stones flew past, and the pressure of the rope against his palms rapidly grew into a hot, searing pain. He yowled and let goof the rope just as he reached the bottom, all but flinging himself the last five feet to land gracelessly in a heap." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nothing seemed broken. His chin ached, his palms felt as though they'd been skinned with a dull axe, and his head was still spinning, but at least nothing seemed broken. He stumbled into a run. As his bare feet slapped against the cobbles of the road the door to the target house burst open, revealing two men outlined in golden light. An instant later they were after him with a shout.\n\nLocke sprinted into the darkness of the alley, willing his legs to rise and fall like water-engine pistons. He knew that he would need every inch of the lead he already had if he hoped to escape. Vague black shapes loomed out of the shadows like something from a nightmare, only transforming into normal objects as he ran past-empty barrels, piles of refuse, broken wagons.\n\nBehind him came the slap-slap-slap of booted feet. Locke sucked in his breath in short, sharp gasps and prayed he wouldn't run across a broken pot or bottle. Bare feet were better for climbing, but in a dead run someone with shoes had every advantage. The men were getting closer-\n\nSomething slammed into Locke so forcefully that his first thought was that he'd struck a wall. His breath exploded out of him, and his next impression was a confused sense of movement. Someone grabbed him by his tunic and threw him down; someone else leapt out of the darkness and sprinted in the direction he'd been headed. Someone about his size or a little bigger....\n\n\"Shhhh,\" whispered one of the Sanzas, directly into his ear. \"Play dead.\"\n\nLocke was lying with his cheek against wet stone, staring at a narrow opening into a brick-walled passage. He realized he'd been yanked into a smaller alley branching off the one he'd tried to escape down. The Sanza restraining him pulled something heavy, damp, and fetid down around them, leaving only the thinnest space exposed for them to see out of. A split second later Locke's two pursuers pounded past, huffing and swearing. They continued after the shape that had taken Locke's place and didn't spare a glance for the two boys huddled undercover a few feet away." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Calo will give \"em a good chase, then get back to us once they're slipped,\" said the Sanza after a few seconds.\n\n\"Galdo,\" said Locke. \"They got her. They got Beth.\"\n\n\"We know.\" Galdo pushed aside their camouflage. It looked like an ancient leather coat, gnawed by animals and covered in every possible foulness an alley could cultivate. \"When we heard the shouting we ran for it and got in position to grab you. Quick and quiet now.\"\n\nGaldo hoisted Locke to his feet, turned, and padded down the branch alley.\n\n\"They got her,\" repeated Locke, suddenly aware that his cheeks were hot with tears. \"They got her, we have to do something, we have to-\"\n\n\"I bloody well know.\" Galdo seized him by the hand and pulled him along. \"Chains will tell us what to do. Come on.\"\n\nAs Sabetha had promised, Chains wasn't far. Galdo pulled Locke west, toward the docks, to the rows of cheaper warehouses beside the canal that marked the farthest boundary of the Razona. Chains was waiting there, in plainclothes and along brown coat, inside an empty warehouse that smelled of rot and camphor. When the two boys stumbled in the door, Chains shook a weak light from an alchemical globe and hurried over to them.\n\n\"It went wrong,\" said Galdo.\n\n\"They got her,\" said Locke, not caring that he was bawling. \"They got her, I'm sorry, they just, they just got her.\" Locke threw himself at Father Chains, and the man, without hesitation, scooped him up and held him, patting his back until his racking sobs quieted down." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"There, boy, there,\" said Chains." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You're with us now. All's well. Who got her? Can you tell me?\"\n\n\"I don't know... men in the house.\"\n\n\"Not yellowjackets?\"\n\n\"I don't... I don't think so. I'm sorry, I couldn't... I tried to think of something, but-\"\n\n\"There was nothing you could have done,\" said Chains firmly. He set Locke down and used a coat sleeve to dry his cheeks. \"You managed to getaway, and that was enough.\"\n\n\"We didn't g-get... the necklace-\"\n\n\"Fuck the necklace.\" Chains turned to the Sanza who'd brought Locke in. \"Where's Galdo?\"\n\n\"I'm Galdo.\"\n\n\"Where's-\"\n\n\"Calo's ditching a couple of men that chased us.\"\n\n\"What kind of men? Uniforms? Weapons?\"\n\n\"I don't think they were mustard. They might've been with the old guy you wanted us to rob.\"\n\n\"Hell's flaming shits.\" Chains grabbed up his walking stick (an affectation for his disguise, but a fine way to have a weapon close at hand), then produced a dagger in a leather sheath that he tossed to Galdo. \"Stay here. Douse the light and hide yourselves. Try not to stab Calo if he returns before I do.\"\n\n\"Where are you going?\" asked Locke.\n\n\"To find out who we're dealing with.\"\n\nChains went out the door with a speed that put the lie to his frequent claims of advancing infirmity. Galdo picked up the tiny alchemical light and tossed it to Locke, who concealed it within his closed hands. Alone in the darkness, the two boys settled down to wait for whatever came next." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "CHAINS RETURNED a brief fraction of an hour later, with an ashen-faced Calo in tow. Locke uncovered the light as they entered the warehouse and ran toward them.\n\n\"Where is she?\" he asked.\n\nChains stared at the three boys and sighed. \"I need the smallest,\" he said quietly.\n\n\"Me?\"\n\n\"Of course you, Locke.\" Chains reached out and grabbed both Sanza brothers. He knelt beside them and whispered instructions that were too brief and quiet for Locke to catch. Calo and Galdo seemed to recoil.\n\n\"Gods damn it, boys,\" said Chains. \"You know we've got no choice. Get back home. Stay together.\"\n\nThey ran out of the warehouse without another word. Chains rose and turned to Locke.\n\n\"Come,\" he said. \"Time is no friend of ours this evening.\"\n\n\"Where are we going?\" Locke scampered to keep up.\n\n\"Not far. A house a block north of where you were.\"\n\n\"Is it... should we really be going back that way?\"\n\n\"Perfectly safe now that you're with me.\" True to his word, Chains had turned east, on a street rather than an alley, and was walking briskly toward the neighborhood Locke had just fled.\n\n\"Who's got her? The yellowjackets?\"\n\n\"No. They'd have taken her to a watch station, not a private residence.\"\n\n\"The, um, men we tried to rob?\"\n\n\"No. Worse than that.\" Locke couldn't see Chains\" face, but he imagined that he could hear his scowl in every word he spoke. \"Agents of the duke. His secret police. Commanded by the man with no name.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No name?\"\n\n\"They call him the Spider. His people get work that's too delicate for the yellowjackets. They're spies, assassins, false-facers. Dangerous folk, as dangerous as any of the Right People.\"\n\n\"Why were they at the house?\"\n\n\"Bad luck is much too comforting a possibility. I believe my information about the necklace was a poisoned tip.\"\n\n\"But then... holy shit, but that means we have an informer!\"\n\n\"It is a vile sin for that word to come lightly off the lips of our kind.\" Chains whirled, and Locke stumbled backward in surprise. Chains'face was grimmer than Locke had ever seen it, and he waved a finger to emphasize his words. \"It's the worst thing one Right Person can say or think of another. Before you accuse, you'd damn well better know. Drop that word carelessly and you'd best be armed, understand?\"\n\n\"Y-yes. Sorry.\"\n\n\"My man at Meraggio's is solid.\" Chains turned, and with Locke at his heels hurried down the street again. \"My children are beyond reproach, all of you.\"\n\n\"I didn't mean-\"\n\n\"I know. That means the information itself was bait fora trap. They probably didn't even know who'd bite. They set a line and waited fora fish.\"\n\n\"Why would they care?\"\n\n\"It's in their interest,\" grumbled Chains. \"Thieves with contacts at Meraggio's, thieves willing to work in a nice quiet place like the Razona... that sort of person merits scrutiny. Or stepping on.\"\n\nLocke held onto Chains' sleeve as they threaded their way back into the quality neighborhoods, where the peace and calm seemed utterly surreal to Locke, given the disturbance he and Sabetha had raised so recently. At last Chains guided Locke into the low, well-kept gardens behind a row of three-story homes. He pointed to the next house over, and the two of them crouched behind a crumbling stonewall to observe the scene." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Half-visible past the edge of the house was a carriage without livery, guarded by at least two men." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The lights in the house were on, but all the windows, save one, were covered by curtains behind thick mosaic glass. The lone exception was on the rear wall, where an orange glow was coming from under a second-story window that had been cracked open.\n\n\"Is she in there?\" whispered Locke.\n\n\"She is. That open window.\"\n\n\"How do we get her out?\"\n\n\"We don't.\"\n\n\"But... we're here... you brought me here-\"\n\n\"Locke.\" Chains set a hand on Locke's right shoulder. \"She's tied down in that room up there. They have four men inside and two out front with the carriage. Duke's men, above every law. You and I can't fight them.\"\n\n\"Then why did you bring me here?\"\n\nChains reached inside his tunic, snapped the cord that held a small object around his neck, and held the object out to Locke. It was a glass vial, about the size of Locke's smallest finger.\n\n\"Take this,\" Chains said. \"You're small enough to climb the vines on that back wall, reach the window, and then-\"\n\n\"No.\" The realization of what that vial meant made Locke want to throw up. \"No, no, no!\"\n\n\"Listen, boy, listen! Time is wasting. We can't get her out. They'll start asking her questions soon. You know how they do that? Hot irons. Knives. When they're finished they'll know everything about you, me, Calo, Galdo. What we do and where we work. We'll never be safe in Camorr again, and our own kind will be as hot for our blood as the duke's people.\"\n\n\"No, she's clever, she'll-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"We're not made of iron, boy.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Chains grabbed Locke's right hand, squeezed it firmly, and placed the warm glass vial against his palm. \"We're flesh and blood, and if they hurt us long enough we'll say anything they want us to say.\"\n\nChains gently bent Locke's fingers in over the vial, then lifted his own hands away slowly.\n\n\"She'll know what to do,\" he said.\n\n\"I can't,\" said Locke, fresh tears starting down his cheeks. \"I can't. Please.\"\n\n\"Then they'll torture her,\" said Chains quietly. \"You know she'll fight them as long as she can. So they'll do it for hours. Maybe days. They'll break her bones. They'll peel her skin. And you're the only one who can getup to that window. You... trip over your tongue around her. You like her, don't you?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Locke, staring into the darkness, trying desperately to think of anything bolder, cleverer, braver than climbing to that window and handing a beautiful girl a vial with which she would kill herself.\n\nHe had nothing.\n\n\"Not fair,\" he sobbed. \"Not fair, not fair.\"\n\n\"We can't get her out, Locke.\" The gentleness and sorrow in Chains\" voice caught Locke's attention in away that scolding or commanding could not have. \"What happens now is up to you. If you can't get to her, she'll live. Fora while. And she'll be in hell. But if you can get to that window... if you can just pass the vial to her...\"\n\nLocke nodded, and hated himself for nodding.\n\n\"Brave lad,\" whispered Chains. \"Don't wait. Go. Fast and quiet as a breeze.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "It was no great feat to steal across thirty feet of dark garden, to find hand-and footholds in the lush vines at the rear of the house, to scuttle upward." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But the moments it took felt like hours, and by the time Locke was poised beside the second-story window he was shaking so badly that he was sure anyone in the house could hear it.\n\nBy the grace of the Crooked Warden there were no shouts of alarm, no windows slamming open, no armed men charging into the garden. Ever so carefully, he set his eyes level with the two-inch gap at the bottom of the open window, and moved his head to the right just far enough to peek into the room.\n\nLocke swallowed a sob when he saw Sabetha, seated in a heavy, high-backed chair, facing away from him. Beside her, some sort of cabinet-No. It was a man in along black coat, a huge man. Locke ducked back out of sight. Gods, Chains was right about at least one thing. They couldn't fight a brute like that, with or without a house full of other men to aid him.\n\n\"I'm not an enemy, you know.\" The man had a deep, precise voice with the barest hint of a strange accent. \"We want so little from you. You must realize that your friends can't save you. Not from us.\"\n\nThere was along silence. The man sighed.\n\n\"You might think that we couldn't do the things I suggested earlier. Not to a pretty little girl. But you're as good as hung now. Makes it easy on the conscience. Sooner or later, you'll talk. Even if you have to talk through your screams.\n\n\"I'll, ah, leave you alone fora bit. Let you think. But think hard, girl. We're only patient as long as we have orders to be.\"\n\nThere was a slamming sound, a heavy door being shut, and then a slight metallic clank; the man had turned a key behind him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Now it was time. Time to slip into the room, pass the vial over, and escape as quickly as possible. And then Sabetha would kill herself, and Locke would... would...\n\n\"Fuck this,\" he whispered to himself.\n\nLocke pushed at the window, widening the opening at its bottom. Windows that slid up and down were a relatively new and expensive development in Camorr, so rare that even Locke knew they were special. Whatever mechanism raised and lowered this one was well-oiled, and it rose with little resistance. Sabetha turned her head toward the noise as Locke slid over the windowsill and flopped inside. Her eyes were wide with surprise.\n\n\"Hi,\" whispered Locke, less dramatically than he might have hoped. He stood up from the inch-deep carpet and examined Sabetha's chair. His heart sank. It was glossy hardwood, taller than the window, and likely weighed more than he did. Furthermore, while Sabetha's arms were free, she was shackled at the ankles.\n\n\"What are you doing?\" she hissed.\n\n\"Getting you out,\" Locke whispered. He glanced around the room, pondering anxiously. They were in a library, but the shelves and scroll-cases were bare. Not a single book insight. No sharp objects, no levers, no tools. He examined the door, hoping for some sort of interior lock or bar he could throw, and was disappointed there as well.\n\n\"I can't get out of this chair,\" said Sabetha, her voice low and urgent. \"They could be back any moment. What's that you're holding?\"\n\nLocke suddenly remembered the vial he was clutching tightly in his right hand. Before he could think of anything else to do he moved it behind his back like a fool." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It's nothing,\" he said.\n\n\"I know why Chains sent you up here.\" Sabetha closed her eyes as she spoke. \"It's okay. He and I talked about it before. It's-\"\n\n\"No. I'll think of something. Help me.\"\n\n\"It's going to be all right. Give it tome.\"\n\n\"I can't.\" Locke held up his hands, pleading. \"Help me get you out of that chair.\"\n\n\"Locke,\" said Sabetha, and the sound of her speaking his name at last was like a hammer-blow to his heart. \"You swore to do what I said. Come hell or Eldren-fire. Did you mean it?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" he whispered. \"But you'll die.\"\n\n\"There's no other way.\" She held out one of her hands.\n\n\"No.\" He rubbed at his eyes, feeling tears starting again.\n\n\"Then what are you loyal to, Locke?\"\n\nA coldness gnawed at the pit of Locke's stomach. Every failure he'd experienced in his few short years, every time he'd been caught or foiled, every time he'd ever made a mistake, been punished, gone hungry-all those moments churned up and relived at once couldn't have equaled the bitter weight of the defeat that settled in his gut now.\n\nHe placed the glass vial in her hand, and fora moment their fingers met, warmth against warmth. She gave his hand a little squeeze, and Locke gasped, letting the vial out of his grip. Her fingers curled around it, and now there was no taking it back.\n\n\"Go,\" she whispered.\n\nHe stared at her, unable to believe he'd actually done it, and then finally turned away. It was just three steps to the window, but his feet felt distant and numb. He braced one hand on the windowsill, more to steady himself than to escape." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Aloud click echoed in the room, and the door began to swing open.\n\nLocke heaved himself over the sill, scrambled to plant his feet in the vines that clung to the house's brick exterior, and prayed to drop down fast enough to escape notice, or at least get ahead start-\n\n\"Locke, wait!\" came a deep and familiar voice.\n\nLocke clung precariously to the windowsill and strained to lift his head enough to glance back into the room. The door was wide open, and standing there was Father Chains.\n\n\"No,\" whispered Locke, suddenly realizing what the whole point of the night's exercise really was. But that meant-That meant Sabetha wouldn't have to-\n\nHe was so startled he lost his grip, and with a sharp cry he fell backward into the air above the darkened garden." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"TOLD YOU he wasn't dead.\" It was one of the Sanzas, his voice coming out of the darkness. \"Like a physiker, I am. Ought to charge you a fee for my opinion.\"\n\n\"Sure.\" The other Sanza now, speaking close to Locke's right ear. \"Hope you like getting paid in kicks to the head.\"\n\nLocke opened his eyes and found himself on a table in a well-lit room, a room that had the same strange lack of opulence as the library Sabetha had been chained up in. There were the table and a few chairs, but no tapestries, no decorations, no sense that anyone actually lived here. Locke winced, took a deep breath, and sat bolt upright. His back and his head ached dully.\n\n\"Easy, boy.\" Chains was at his side in an instant. \"You took quite a tumble. If only you weren't so damnably quick on your feet, I might have convinced-\"\n\nChains reached out to gently push him back down, and Locke swatted his hands away.\n\n\"You lied,\" he growled.\n\n\"Forgive me,\" said Chains, very softly. \"There was still one thing we needed to know about you, Locke.\"\n\n\"You lied!\" The depth of Locke's rage came as a shock; he couldn't remember feeling anything like it even for tormentors like Gregor and Veslin-and he'd killed them, hadn't he? \"None of it was real!\"\n\n\"Be reasonable,\" said Chains. \"It's a bit risky to stage a kidnapping using actual agents of the duke.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Locke. \"It was wrong. It was wrong! It wasn't like they really would have done! I might have gotten her out!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You can't fight grown men,\" said Chains. \"You did the very best you could in a bad situation.\"\n\n\"IT WAS WRONG!\" Locke forced himself to concentrate, to articulate what his gut was telling him. \"They would... real guards might have done it differently. Not chained her down. This was all made for me. All made so I had no choice!\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Chains. \"It was a game you couldn't win. A situation that finds us all, sooner or later.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Locke, feeling his anger warm him from his head to his toes. \"It was all wrong!\"\n\n\"He did it to us too, once,\" said Calo, grabbing his right arm. \"Gods, we wanted to die, it was so bad.\"\n\n\"He did it to all of us,\" said Sabetha, and Locke whirled at the sound of her voice. She was standing in a corner, arms folded, studying him with a combination of interest and unease. \"He's right. We had to know if you could do it.\"\n\n\"And you did superbly,\" said Chains. \"You did better than we could have-\"\n\n\"It wasn't fair,\" shouted Locke. \"It wasn't a fair test! There was noway to win!\"\n\n\"That's life,\" said Chains. \"That's your one sure inheritance as flesh and blood. Nobody wins all the time, Locke.\"\n\nLocke shook himself free from Calo's grasp and stood on the table, so that he actually had to look down to meet Chains eye to eye.\n\nGods, he'd thought Sabetha was gone once, and he'd rejoiced to find her alive. Then he'd been sent to kill her. That was the rage, he realized, burning like a coal behind his heart. Fora few terrible minutes Chains had made him believe that he would have to lose her allover again. Narrowed his world to one awful choice and made him feel helpless." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I will never lose again.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He nodded slowly to himself, as though his words were the long-sought solution to some mathematical puzzle. Then he shouted at the top of his lungs, not caring if he was heard across the length and breadth of the Razona.\n\n\"Do you hear me? I WILL NEVER LOSE AGAIN!\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "In partnership with the author, move the story forward.\nTags: fantasy, heist, theater\nAuthor: Scott Lynch\nTitle: The Republic of Thieves\nChapter: 86" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "FOR THE second time that day Locke and Sabetha found themselves in a chamber cut in half by a physical barrier, but now it was bars of black iron. The audience room of the Weeping Tower had smooth stonewalls and a rough stone floor, with no windows, no decorations, no furniture. The guards locked the door behind them and remained at attention in front of it.\n\nThey were made to wait another few minutes before the door on the opposite side of the room slid open. Two more guards brought in a man, manacled at hands and feet, and clipped a chain to a bolt in the floor. They attached this to the prisoner's leg irons, giving him a range of movement that ended about two feet from the iron bars. The prisoner's guards withdrew to a position mirroring that of the ones on Locke and Sabetha's side of the room.\n\nThe man in chains was tall, with skin like polished boot leather and hair scraped down to a gray shadow. He was heavyset but not ponderous. The weight of his years and appetites seemed to have spread evenly, settled in all his joints and crevices, and there was still a hint of dangerous vitality to him. His eyes were wide and bright against the darkness of his face, and he fixed them hard on Locke and Sabetha as though blinking were somehow beneath his interest.\n\n\"An opportunity to walk down two flights of stairs and be chained up again,\" he said. \"Hooray. Who the hell are you?\"\n\n\"Your new actors,\" said Locke. \"Your very surprised new actors.\"\n\n\"Ahhhhhhh.\" Moncraine's seamed jowls moved as though he'd tasted something unpleasant. \"Weren't there supposed to be five of you?\"\n\n\"Weren't you supposed to beat liberty?\" said Sabetha. \"The other three are trying to hold your troupe together at Gloriano's.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Too bad you didn't come sooner,\" said Moncraine. \"I'm afraid there's nothing to look forward to but packing for your return. Tell your master I appreciate the gesture.\"\n\n\"That's not good enough,\" said Locke. \"We were sent hereto goon stage. We were sent hereto learn from you!\"\n\n\"You want a lesson, boy? If you find yourself being born, climb back in as quick as you can, because life's a bottomless feast of shit.\"\n\n\"We can get you out of here,\" said Sabetha.\n\n\"If you cooperate,\" said Locke.\n\n\"Oh, you can spring me, can you?\" Moncraine knelt and ran one manacled hand across the floor. \"You have an army of about a thousand men hidden outside the city? Let me know when they're storming the tower, so I can be sure to have my breeches on.\"\n\n\"You know our master,\" said Locke, lowering his voice. \"You can surely guess the nature of his students.\"\n\n\"I knew your master,\" said Moncraine. \"Years ago. And I thought he was sending me actors. Is that what you are? Is that where the gods have reached down and touched your little Camorri souls, eh? Given you the gift of silver tongues?\"\n\n\"We can act,\" said Sabetha.\n\n\"Can you? But are you lions? There's no room for any but lions in my company!\" He turned his head to the guards at his door. \"Lions, aren't we boys?\"\n\n\"Only if you don't lower your fucking voice,\" said one of them.\n\n\"You see? Lions! Can you roar, children?\"\n\n\"Onstage and off,\" said Sabetha coolly." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Hmmm. That's fascinating, because from where I'm sitting, you look about what, sixteen? Seventeen? You've certainly never been wet for anything but dreams in the night, have you? Well, you might pass onstage, love... let your hair down and fly your tits like flags-you could certainly keep the groundlings awake. But you,\" he said, turning to Locke. \"Who are you fooling? Small-boned sparrow of a lad. Got fig seeds in your sack where men should have the full fruit, eh? Do you even shave? What the hell do you mean by coming inhere and trying to shove good cheer up my ass?\"\n\n\"We're your only chance to go free,\" said Locke, fuming, considering saying a number of less productive things.\n\n\"Go free? Why? I like it here. I'm fed, and my creditors can't reach me for at least the next year. The state of Espara will stop atone hand. Hells, that's a bargain compared to what I might get when my markers are called in on the street.\"\n\n\"What's the name of the noble you struck?\" said Sabetha.\n\n\"Why do you care?\" said Moncraine. \"How can it possibly be of aid to you as you SCURRY BACK WHERE YOU FUCKING CAME FROM?\"\n\n\"Keep your voice down,\" said one of the guards. \"Or you'll have to be carried into court tomorrow.\"\n\n\"You know, that might be pleasant,\" said Moncraine. \"Can we give that a try?\"\n\n\"Jasmer,\" said Sabetha sharply. \"Look at me, you stupid ass.\"\n\nJasmer did indeed look at her.\n\n\"I don't care what you think of us,\" she whispered. \"You know what kind of person our master is. What kind of organization we come from. And if you don't stop braying like a jackass, this is what's going to happen. We'll leave.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I love this plan,\" said Moncraine." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Take this plan all the way!\"\n\n\"You'll spend your year and a day inside this tower. Then they'll cut your gods-damned hand off and throw you out the door. And do you know who'll be standing there? More Camorri than you've ever seen in your fucking life. Not just us, or the other three currently toiling on your behalf on the other side of this pimple of a city. I mean big, unreasonable, cross-eyed motherfuckers straight out of the wombs of hell, and they'll take you fora ride. Locked in a box, ten days, all the way to Camorr sloshing in your own piss.\"\n\n\"Now, wait a minute,\" said Moncraine.\n\n\"You don't have any other fucking creditors, get it? We're the front of the line now. We're all you need to worry about. You made a deal with our garrista. You know what that word means?\"\n\n\"Of course-\"\n\n\"Obviously you don't! Our master sent you five of us, free and clear, ready to get your troupe back on its feet. All you had to do was teach us about your trade. You'd rather break the deal and insult a garrista. So, you have a comfortable year, you stupid clown. As soon as it's over you'll see us again. Come on, Lucaza.\"\n\nShe turned sharply, and Locke, supporting her act wholeheartedly, favored Moncraine with a sour smirk before he did the same.\n\n\"Wait,\" Jasmer hissed.\n\n\"What's the name of the noble you struck?\" Sabetha didn't give him anymore time to think or plead or stew; she whirled on him just as quickly as she'd pretended to leave." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Boulidazi,\" said Moncraine. \"Baron Boulidazi of Palazzo Corsala.\"\n\n\"Why did you do it?\"\n\n\"I was drinking,\" said Moncraine. \"He wanted... he came down to Gloriano's. He wanted to buyout my debts, install himself as the company's patron.\"\n\n\"For this you punched him in the teeth?\" said Locke. \"What are you going to do if we get you out of here, try to cut our hearts out?\"\n\n\"Boulidazi's an ass! A stuck-up little ass! He's barely older than you, and he thinks he can buy and sell me like gods-damned furniture. A theatrical company with his name on everything, wouldn't that be sweet! It took me twenty years to build my own troupe. I won't be anyone's hired man again. I'll take the Weeping Tower to that, any day, any year.\"\n\n\"How was assaulting him preferable to letting him save your troupe?\" said Sabetha. She sounded as incredulous as Locke felt. \"He doesn't care about the troupe,\" said Moncraine. \"He wants it mounted on his wall like a fucking hunting trophy! He wants some charity project he can dangle at whatever gilded cunt he's chasing to show what a sensitive and artistic fellow he is. I refuse to sell my good name to help rich puppies dip their wicks!\"\n\n\"What good name?\" said Locke. \"Even the members of your own company want to see you get eaten by a bear.\"\n\n\"And I'd be glad to supply one,\" said Sabetha. \"Unfortunately for everyone, we're still going to rescue you. So I want you to sit quietly in your cell and bite your tongue.\"\n\n\"Tomorrow,\" said Locke, \"this Baron Boulidazi will forgive your insult and decline to make charges.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What?\" said Moncraine. \"Boy, listen tome. Even if Boulidazi had a thousand cocks in his breeches and you blew every last one like a flute from sunrise to sunset-\"\n\n\"He'll forgive your insult,\" said Sabetha through gritted teeth, \"because that is the only possible salvation we can arrange for you. Understand? We have no other cards to play. So this is how it'll be. Once you're out, we'll discuss what you need to get your Republic of Thieves back into production.\"\n\n\"The trouble with this fantasy, girl, is that it requires both of us to not be mad,\" said Moncraine softly.\n\n\"All it requires is that you shut up and behave,\" said Sabetha. \"And my name isn't\"girl. \"Most times you can call me Verena Gallante. But when I'm onstage, you'll call me\" Amadine. '\"\n\n\"Will I?\" Moncraine laughed. \"That's a presumption a few steps ahead of my grasp. You show me your mythical thread of kindness in Boulidazi. Then we'll chat on the matter of plays.\"\n\n\"Go back to your cell,\" said Sabetha. \"I guarantee we'll speak again tomorrow.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"EVEN IF we get him out,\" said Locke, \"we'll need to put that man on a leash.\"\n\n\"He's a menace to himself and the rest of us,\" said Sabetha. \"When we spring him, we should crowd him. Make it clear that he's being watched and judged at all times.\"\n\n\"By the way, who's Amadine?\"\n\n\"The best role in The Republic of Thieves,\" said Sabetha, grinning. \"I haven't read any of it yet.\"\n\n\"You should, before all the good parts get snapped up.\"\n\n\"Someone kept it to herself all the way here!\"\n\n\"Moncraine's got to have more copies of it somewhere in his troupe's mess. Jenora might know. But first, we've got our miracle to deliver on.\"\n\n\"Miracle indeed,\" said Locke. They were moving back down the Legion Steps, through the still ranks of the marble soldiers. The drizzle had letup, but there were soft rumbles of thunder from above. \"We need to reach this Boulidazi, more or less as we are, and convince him to forgive one of the craziest assholes I've ever met fora completely unjustified drunken assault.\"\n\n\"Any ideas?\"\n\n\"Uh... maybe.\"\n\n\"Spit them out. I managed to shut Jasmer up long enough to make our point; I've earned my day's pay.\"\n\n\"And you were a pleasure to watch, too,\" said Locke. \"But then, you're always-\"\n\n\"You do not have the time to be charming,\" said Sabetha, giving him a mild punch to the shoulder. \"And I certainly don't have time to be charmed.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Right. Sure,\" said Locke. \"We need an angle of approach. Why should he open his door for us? Hey, what if we were Camorri nobles going incognito?\"\n\n\"Hiding in Espara,\" she said, clearly liking the notion. \"Trouble at home?\"\n\n\"Hmmm. No. No, if we're not in favor at home we can't offer him anything. We might actually be a risk to him.\"\n\n\"You're right. Okay. You and I... are cousins,\" said Sabetha. \"First cousins.\"\n\n\"Cousins,\" said Locke. \"So many gods-damned imaginary cousins. You and I are cousins.... If we have to show Jean and the Sanzas, they're family retainers. We are, uh, grandchildren of... an old count that doesn't get out much.\"\n\n\"Blackspear,\" said Sabetha. \"Enrico Botallio, Count Blackspear. I was a scullery maid in his house a few years ago, that summer you spent on the farm.\"\n\n\"A Five Towers family,\" said Locke. \"Would we live in the tower ourselves?\"\n\n\"Yeah, most of his family does. And he hasn't been out of the city in twenty years; he's as old as Duke Nicovante. I'll be the daughter of his oldest son... and you're the son of his youngest. He has no other children. Oh, your father's dead, by the way. Fell off a horse two years ago.\"\n\n\"Good to know. If we need any real details of the household, I'll pass the game to you whenever I can.\" Locke snapped his fingers. \"We're in Espara because you want to indulge your wish to be onstage-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"-which could never be allowed under my real name in Camorr!\"\n\nSabetha had never finished one of his thoughts before, in the way that Jean did all the time. Locke felt a flush of warmth.\n\n\"That's great,\" she went on, heedless. \"So we're incognito, but with our family's permission.\"\n\n\"Thus whoever helps us makes himself a powerful and wealthy friend in Camorr.\" Locke couldn't help smiling at the improbable thought that they might have found away out after all. \"Sabetha, this is great. It's also the thinnest line of bullshit we've ever hung ourselves on.\"\n\n\"And we haven't even been here a full day yet.\"\n\n\"We need given names.\"\n\n\"There we can be lazy. I'm Verena Botallio, you're Lucaza Botallio.\"\n\n\"Hells, yes.\" Locke glanced around, affirming that they were still within the limited corridor of Espara he'd managed to half familiarize himself with. \"We should head back to Gloriano's and see how they did with the horses. Then we can go visit this Boulidazi and beg him not to think too hard about where we've come from.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"ALONDO'S COUSIN was as good as promised,\" said Jean. He waved at a young man, a bearded and heavier version of Alondo, who was sitting against the wall at the back of Gloriano's common room, accompanied by Alondo, Sylvanus, the Sanzas, and several half-empty bottles. Nobody else new or unknown was in the room. \"He got us just over a royal apiece for the horses. All it cost us was a couple bottles of wine. And, ah, I promised we'd give him apart in the play.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"No lines. He just wants to dress up and get stabbed, he says.\"\n\n\"Just as long as he doesn't expect to get paid,\" said Sabetha.\n\n\"Not in anything except hangovers,\" said Jean. \"I do notice you haven't dragged a large Syresti impresario back with you.\"\n\n\"That game's afoot,\" said Locke. \"Come spill your purse. Asino brothers! On your feet a moment, we'd have a word concerning finance.\"\n\n\"Oh let them stay,\" said Sylvanus. \"This is the fun side of the room, and our young hostler was about to take hoof for more wine.\"\n\n\"You're not finished with the three bottles you have,\" said Locke.\n\n\"They're writing farewell notes to their families,\" said Sylvanus. \"Their holes are already dug in the ground. Oh, I suppose I really must getup before I piss, mustn't I?\" He rolled sideways in the vague direction of the door that led back to the soaked inn-yard. \"Give us a hand, hostler, give us a hand. I shall goon all fours to make use of your expertise.\"\n\n\"Marvelous,\" said Locke, pulling Calo and Galdo to their feet. \"Lovely. Are you two following Sylvanus down the vomit-strewn path?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We maybe sociably fuzzed,\" said Calo.\n\n\"A little blurry at the edges,\" said Galdo.\n\n\"That's probably for the best. I need you to come over here and dump out your purses.\"\n\n\"You need us to do what now?\"\n\n\"We need a flash bag,\" said Sabetha.\n\n\"What the hell's a flash bag?\" said Jenora, wandering by at a moment precisely calculated to overhear what the huddled Gentlemen Bastards were up to.\n\n\"Since you ask,\" said Jean, \"it's a purse of coins you throw together to make it look like you're used to carrying around big fat sums.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" she said. \"That must be a nice thing to have.\"\n\nUsing a spare table, the five Camorri dumped out their personal funds, to which Jean added the take from the horses and Locke mixed in the remnants of the purse Chains had given them. Camorri barons, tyrins, and solons clattered against Esparan fifths and coppins.\n\n\"Get all the coppers out of the pile,\" said Locke. \"They're as useless as an Asino brother.\"\n\n\"Suck vinegar from my ass-crack,\" said Calo.\n\nFive pairs of hands sifted through the coins, pulling coppers aside, leaving a diminished but gleaming mass in the center.\n\n\"Copper gets split five ways so everyone's got something,\" said Locke. \"Gold and silver goes in the purse.\"\n\n\"Do you want Auntie to change any of that Camorri stuff for you?\" said Jenora, peering over Jean's right shoulder.\n\n\"No,\" said Locke. \"For the moment, it's actually a point in our favor. What's the flash count?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Five crowns, two tyrins,\" said Sabetha." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And two royals, one fifth.\"\n\n\"That's more money than any of Auntie's customers have seen in along time,\" said Jenora.\n\n\"It's shy of what I want,\" said Locke. \"But it might be convincing. No journeyman actor carries around a year and a half's pay.\"\n\n\"Unless they're not getting paid a damn thing,\" said Jenora.\n\n\"We'll deal with that tomorrow,\" said Locke as he cinched the flash bag tightly closed. \"Hopefully with Moncraine listening very attentively.\"\n\n\"Where are you going now?\" said Jean.\n\n\"To see Moncraine's punching bag,\" said Sabetha. \"And if that Syresti son of a bitch can teach us better acting than what we'll need to pull this off, he'll actually deserve this rescue.\"\n\n\"Want an escort?\" said Jean.\n\n\"Based on what you've seen tonight,\" muttered Locke, \"who needs it more, Sabetha and me or the twins?\"\n\n\"Good point.\" Jean polished his optics against the collar of his tunic and readjusted them on his nose. \"I'll keep them out of trouble, and see if I can trick Sylvanus into sleeping indoors.\"\n\n\"Where's Palazzo Corsala?\" said Sabetha to Jenora.\n\n\"That's on the north side, the swell district. Can't miss it. Clean streets, beautiful houses, people like Sylvanus and Jasmer beaten on sight.\"\n\n\"We'll spring fora hired coach,\" said Locke. \"We won't look respectable enough without one.\"\n\n\"Shall we go call on Baron Boulidazi, then?\" said Sabetha.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Locke. \"No. Wait. We've forgotten one terribly important thing. Let's run backup to Stay-Awake Salvard and hope he's still feeling sympathetic.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"TRADESFOLK ENTRANCE is around back,\" growled the tree trunk of a man who opened Boulidazi's front door. \"Tradesfolk hours are-\"\n\n\"What kind of tradesman hires a coach-and-four to make his rounds?\" said Locke, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. Their hired carriage was waiting beyond the rows of alchemically miniaturized olive trees that screened Boulidazi's manor from the street. The driver hadn't liked their clothes, but their silver had vouched for them quite adequately.\n\n\"Pray give your master this,\" said Sabetha, holding out a small white card. This had been scrounged from the office of Stay-Awake Salvard, who had bemusedly agreed to charge them a few coppins for it and some ink.\n\nThe servant glanced at the card, glared at them, then glanced at the card again. \"Wait here,\" he said, and closed the door.\n\nSeveral minutes went by. The slow drip of water from the canvas awning above their head became a soft, steady drumbeat as the rain picked up again. At last, the door creaked open and a rectangle of golden light from inside the house fell over them.\n\n\"Come,\" said the bulky servant. Two more men waited behind him, and for an instant Locke feared an ambush. However, these servants wielded nothing more threatening than towels, which they used to wipe Locke and Sabetha's shoes dry.\n\nBaron Boulidazi's house was unexceptional, among those of its type that Locke had seen. It was comfortable enough, furnished to showoff disposable wealth, but there was no grand and special something, no'hall-piece\" as they were often called, to evoke wonder from freshly arrived guests." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The servant took them out of the foyer, through a sitting hall, and into a warmly lit room with felt-padded walls." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A blandly handsome man of about twenty, with neck-length black hair and close-set dark eyes, was leaning against a billiards table with a stick in his hands. The white card was on the table.\n\n\"The Honorable Verena Botallio and companion,\" said the servant without enthusiasm. He left the room immediately.\n\n\"Of the Isla Zantara?\" said Boulidazi, more warmly. \"I've just read your card. Isn't that part of the Alcegrante?\"\n\n\"It is, Lord Boulidazi,\" said Sabetha, giving the slight nod and half-curtsy that was usual in Camorr for an informal noble reception. \"Have you ever been there?\"\n\n\"To Camorr? No, no. I've always wanted to visit, but I've never had the privilege.\"\n\n\"Lord Boulidazi,\" said Sabetha, \"may I present my cousin, the Honorable Lucaza Botallio?\"\n\n\"Your cousin, eh?\" said Boulidazi, nodding as Locke bowed his head. The Esparan lord offered his hand. As they shook, Locke noted that Boulidazi was solidly built, much the same size as Alondo's hostler cousin, and he didn't hold back the strength in his grip.\n\n\"Thank you for receiving us,\" said Locke. \"We would have both sent our cards, but only Verena is carrying one, I'm afraid.\"\n\n\"Oh? You weren't robbed or anything, I suppose? Is that why you've come dressed as you are? Forgive my mentioning it.\"\n\n\"No, we haven't been mistreated,\" said Sabetha. \"And there's nothing to forgive; we're not traveling in our usual capacity. We're incognito, with just a bodyguard and a pair of servants, though we've left them behind for the moment.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Incognito,\" said Boulidazi. \"Are you in some sort of danger?\"\n\n\"Not in the slightest,\" said Sabetha with a laugh. She then turned and feigned surprise (Locke was confident that only long familiarity allowed him to spot the fact that it was a willful change) at the sight of a saber resting in its scabbard on a witchwood display shelf. \"Is that what I think it is?\"\n\n\"What, exactly, do you think it is?\" said Boulidazi, and it seemed to Locke that he was a touch more curt than before.\n\n\"Surely it's a DiVorus? The seal on the hilt-\"\n\n\"It is,\" said Boulidazi, instantly losing his tone of impatience. \"One of his later blades, but still-\"\n\n\"I trained with a DiVorus,\" said Sabetha, poising one hand above the hilt of the saber. \"The Voillantebona rapier. Don't get me wrong; it wasn't mine. My instructor's. I still remember the balance, and the patterns in the steel... your hilt looks honorably stained. I assume you practice with it?\"\n\n\"Often,\" said Boulidazi. \"This one's called Drakovelus. It's been in my family for three generations. It suits my style-not the fastest on the floor, but when I do move I can put a bit of strength behind it.\"\n\n\"The saber rewards a sturdy handler,\" said Sabetha.\n\n\"We're neglecting your cousin,\" said Boulidazi. \"Forgive me, Lucaza, please don't allow my enthusiasms to shove you aside from the conversation.\"\n\n\"Not at all, Lord Boulidazi. I've had my years with the fencing masters, of course, but Verena's the connoisseur in the family.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Boulidazi's heavy servant returned and whispered into the baron's ear. Locke silently counted to ten before the servant finished. The big man withdrew again, and the baron stared at Locke.\n\n\"You know, I just now recall,\" he said. \"Botallio... isn't that one of the Five Towers clans?\"\n\n\"Of course,\" said Sabetha.\n\n\"And yet you give your address as the Isla Zantara,\" said Boulidazi.\n\n\"I'm fond of Grandfather,\" said Sabetha. \"But surely you can understand how someone my age might prefer a little manor of her own.\"\n\n\"And your grandfather...\" said Boulidazi expectantly.\n\n\"Don Enrico Botallio.\"\n\n\"Better known as Count Blackspear?\" said Boulidazi, still cautiously.\n\n\"Verena's father is Blackspear's eldest son,\" said Locke. \"I'm the son of his youngest.\"\n\n\"Oh? I believe I might have heard something of your father, Lucaza,\" said the baron. \"I do hope that he's well?\"\n\nLocke felt a surge of relief that they'd pretended to be from a family Sabetha had knowledge of. Boulidazi obviously had access to some sort of directory of Camorri peers. Locke allowed himself to look crestfallen for just an instant, and then put on an obviously forced smile.\n\n\"I'm sorry,\" he said, \"but I must inform you that my father died several years ago.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" said Boulidazi, visibly relaxing. \"Forgive me. I must have been thinking of someone else. But why didn't the pair of you simply give the name of the count when you-\"\n\n\"Noble cousin,\" said Sabetha, shifting instantly into her excellent Throne Therin, \"the name of Blackspear commands instant attention in Camorr, but surely you wouldn't think us so vulgar as to try and awe you with it in Espara, as the freshest of acquaintances, as guests in your house?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh-vulgar, oh no, never!\" said Boulidazi in the same language. Anyone of breeding was expected to endure years of tutelage in it, and he'd clearly done his time in the purgatory of conjugation and tenses. \"I didn't mean that I expected anything uncouth of you!\"\n\n\"Lord Boulidazi,\" said Locke, returning the conversation to plain Therin, \"we're the ones who should be apologizing, for imposing ourselves upon you in our present state. We have our reasons, but you needn't regret being cautious.\"\n\n\"I'm glad you understand,\" said the baron. \"Tymon!\"\n\nThe large servant, who must have been lurking just past the door, stepped inside.\n\n\"It's all right, Tymon,\" said the baron. \"I think our guests will be staying fora while. Let's have some chairs.\"\n\n\"Of course, my lord,\" said the servant, relaxing out of his cold and intimidating aspect as easily as removing a hat.\n\n\"I hope you don't mind if we talk inhere,\" said Boulidazi. \"My parents... well, it was just last year. I can't really think of the study as my room quite yet.\"\n\n\"I know how it is,\" said Locke. \"You inherit the memories of a house as well as its stones. I didn't touch anything in my father's library for months.\"\n\n\"I suppose I should call you Don and Dona Botallio, then?\" said the baron.\n\n\"Only if you want to flatter us,\" said Locke with a smile.\n\n\"While Grandfather still holds the title,\" said Sabetha, \"my father, as direct heir, is called Don. But since we're two steps removed, we are, at present, just a pair of Honorables.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Tymon returned, along with the shoe-towelers, and three high-backed chairs were set down next to the billiards table.\n\nBoulidazi seemed reasonably convinced of their authenticity now, and Locke felt a pang of mingled awe and anxiety. Here was a lord of the city, capable of putting them in prison (or worse) with a word, opening to their false-facing like any common shopkeeper, guard, or functionary. Chains was right. Their training had given them a remarkable freedom of action.\n\nStill, it seemed wise to seal the affair as tightly as possible.\n\n\"Gods above,\" said Locke. \"What a boor I've been! Lord Boulidazi, forgive me. Is it usual in Espara to give a consideration to house servants-damn!\"\n\nLocke pulled out his purse and made what he thought was an excellent show of stumbling toward the withdrawing Tymon. He fell against the billiards table, and a stream of clinking gold and silver just happened to scatter across the felt surface.\n\n\"Are you all right?\" The baron was at Locke's side in an instant, helping him up, and Locke was satisfied that Boulidazi had a full view of the coins.\n\n\"Fine, thank you. I'm such a clumsy ass. You can see all the grace in the family wound upon Verena's side.\" Locke swept the coins back into the purse. \"Sorry about your game.\"\n\n\"It was just a solitary diversion,\" said Boulidazi, as he helped Sabetha into a chair. \"And yes, on holidays, we do give gratuities to the help, but there's a little ceremony and some temple nonsense. You needn't worry about it.\"\n\n\"Well, we're obliged to you,\" said Locke, relieved that he could escape without surrendering any of the flash bag funds. All Boulidazi had to do was believe that money was no real object to them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Now,\" said Sabetha, \"I suppose you'd like to find out why we've come to you.\"\n\n\"Of course,\" said Boulidazi. \"But first, why not tell me what it would please you to be called, if not Dona Botallio?\"\n\n\"That's easy,\" said Sabetha, flashing a smile that hit Locke like a boot to the chest even though he wasn't positioned to catch its full effect. \"You should call me Verena.\"\n\n\"Verena,\" said the baron. \"Then I beg that you'll call me Gennaro, and let no more'Lord Boulidazis' clutter the air between us.\"\n\n\"With pleasure,\" said Sabetha.\n\n\"Gennaro,\" said Locke, \"we're hereto discuss the situation of a man named Jasmer Moncraine.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"To put it even more plainly,\" said Sabetha, \"we've come to ask that you decline to state your charges against him.\"\n\n\"You want me to forgive him?\"\n\n\"Or appear to,\" said Sabetha sweetly.\n\n\"That arrogant pissant struck me before witnesses,\" said Boulidazi. \"With the back of his hand! You can't expect me to believe that a Camorri would bear such a thing, were either of you in my place!\"\n\n\"If I had nothing to win by a display of mercy,\" said Locke, \"I'd have whipped the stupid bastard's face into bloody mince. And if none of us stood to gain right now, I'd go to court with you merely for the pleasure of hearing the sentence read.\"\n\n\"We're not strangers to Moncraine,\" said Sabetha. \"We've been to see him at the Weeping Tower-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Why?\"\n\n\"Please,\" said Sabetha, \"just listen. We know what a fool he is. We're not hereto discuss the brighter facets of his character, because we know he doesn't have any, and we're not asking for mercy for its own sake. We'd like to propose a mutually profitable arrangement.\"\n\n\"How could I possibly profit,\" said Boulidazi, \"by accepting disgrace in front of the entire city?\"\n\n\"First, tell us: Were you serious about wanting to fund Moncraine's troupe and buyout his debts?\" said Locke.\n\n\"I was,\" said the baron. \"I certainly was, until he decided to thank me by lunging at me like an ape.\"\n\n\"Why did you make the offer?\"\n\n\"I grew up attending his plays,\" said Boulidazi. \"Mother loved the theater. Moncraine really used to be something, back before... well, years ago.\"\n\n\"And you wanted to be a patron,\" said Locke.\n\n\"All my family money is sitting safe in vaults, gathering dust and shitting interest. I thought I'd do something meaningful fora change. Pick Moncraine up, run things properly, associate my name with something.\" Boulidazi drummed his fingers against one arm of his chair. \"What the hell can Moncraine possibly mean to you?\"\n\n\"I came hereto be part of his troupe for the summer,\" said Sabetha. \"I, ah, I have a certain inclination. It's awkward to talk about myself, though. Lucaza, would you?\"\n\n\"Of course,\" said Locke. \"Cousin Verena has always loved the theater, as much of it as she could get in Camorr. Grandfather's hired players a dozen times for her. But she's always wanted to be onstage. To act. And that's just not done.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"If I'd taken up alchemy,\" said Sabetha, \"or gardening, or painting, or investment, that'd be fine. I could even ride off to war, if we had ever had any. But noble heirs don't go onstage, not in Camorr.\"\n\n\"Not if they want to inherit,\" said Locke. \"And grandfather won't be with us forever. After him it's uncle, and after uncle it's Verena.\"\n\n\"Countess Blackspear, eh?\" said Boulidazi.\n\n\"Whether or not we keep Blackspear is up to the duke; the Five Towers are his to dispose of. But our lands wouldn't go anywhere. If Blackspear was rescinded, I'd be countess of the old family estates.\"\n\n\"So you've come here posing as an actress to avoid a scandal in Camorr.\"\n\n\"You understand perfectly,\" said Sabetha. \"Verena Gallante can have a summer or two onstage in Espara, and then Verena Botallio can go back to being respectable back home. That's the bargain I struck with Father, also provided Lucaza and a few trusted men came along to keep an eye on me.\"\n\n\"And that's the understanding we had with Moncraine,\" said Locke. \"We'd furnish several actors, and he'd make use of us in a play. Imagine our surprise when we arrived this afternoon to discover the situation.\"\n\n\"Imagine my surprise when Moncraine attacked me!\" said Boulidazi. \"You're putting me between two fires, my friends. I can protect my dignity according to the laws and customs of Espara, or I can grant this request, to which I would normally be very happily disposed. I can't do both.\"\n\n\"If you withdrew from chastising Moncraine out of cowardice or indifference,\" said Sabetha, \"then I agree, your behavior would be improper. But what if your peers could see that you had forgiven him for the sake of a greater design?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Mercy,\" said Locke, bringing his hands slowly together as though squeezing his words into one mass as he spoke them, \"ambition, artistry, and good old-fashioned financial sense. All at once.\"\n\n\"Moncraine wants nothing to do with me,\" said Boulidazi, \"and I'm pleased to return the sentiment. Let the bastard rot fora year and a day. Maybe he'll grow some discretion when he loses his hand.\"\n\n\"I don't have a year and a day, Gennaro,\" said Sabetha.\n\n\"Then why not see Basanti? He's the success. Built his own theater, even. I'm sure he'd put you onstage in a heartbeat. You're certainly, uh...\"\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"You'd certainly have a great many eyes following you attentively, if you'll pardon my boldness.\"\n\n\"Pardon gladly extended. But if Basanti's really the thing, why didn't you approach him about a partnership rather than Moncraine?\"\n\n\"Basanti has no need of a bandage on his finances. Besides, there's nothing to build where he's concerned. It's hard to take credit for something already achieved.\"\n\n\"Believe it or not, we feel much the same about Moncraine,\" said Sabetha. \"He's a means to an end. Forgive him. Let him go free, and I guarantee he'll accept your patronage.\"\n\n\"What makes you assume I'm still willing to offer it?\"\n\n\"Come now, Gennaro,\" said Sabetha, deepening her voice a little, adopting a slightly teasing tone. \"Don't punish yourself for Moncraine's stupidity. Your plan was a good one.\"\n\n\"If you help us in this,\" said Locke, \"you'll have him entirely in your power. Financial debt and moral debt, and you'll have us to keep him inline.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The Moncraine-Boulidazi Company,\" said Sabetha.\n\n\"Or the Boulidazi-Moncraine Company,\" said Locke.\n\n\"I'll look weak,\" said the baron, but his voice had the wavering quality of a man nearly ready to go over the edge of the precipice they were nudging him toward.\n\n\"You'll look clever,\" Locke said. \"Hells, you'll look like you might have planned the whole thing all along to stir up notice!\"\n\n\"That's marvelous!\" said Sabetha. \"At the end of the summer, after we've whipped satisfaction out of Moncraine, you let slip that the whole affair was just a ploy for attention. That's the payoff fora little bit of pain in court tomorrow! Basanti will be forgotten in a moment, and all the city's admiration will settle on what you've done.\"\n\n\"You'll look like a bloody genius,\" said Locke, immensely pleased with himself.\n\n\"The Boulidazi-Moncraine company,\" said the baron. \"It does have a certain... weight. A certain noble ring to it.\"\n\n\"Help me have a season or two in the lights,\" said Sabetha. \"Then bring the company touring to Camorr. We'll introduce you to Grandfather, all the counts and countesses, the duke...\"\n\n\"They could play all the Five Towers in turn,\" said Locke. \"The rooftop gardens. Verena and I would have to disappear as actors, of course, but we'd be delighted to attend the shows as your hosts.\"\n\n\"Isn't that worth temporary inconvenience?\" said Sabetha with a smile that could have coaxed steam out of ice.\n\n\"I will require... a moment to reflect,\" said Boulidazi." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Shall we leave you alone?\" said Sabetha, rising partway from her chair.\n\n\"Yes, for but a moment. Tymon will fetch you anything you desire in the reception hall.\"\n\nLocke rose as well, but Boulidazi held up a hand.\n\n\"Not you, Lucaza, if you please. I'd appreciate a word.\"\n\nLocke sank back into his chair, stole a brief glance at Sabetha, and caught the slightest hint of a nod from her. She withdrew the way she and Locke had come.\n\n\"Lucaza,\" said the baron, leaning forward and lowering his voice, \"I hope that I might be forgiven this liberty; I know that Camorri are not to be trifled within matters touching family honor, and I mean no offense.\"\n\n\"Truly, Gennaro, we've asked fora favor tomorrow in exchange for promises that will take months or years to fully play out. I doubt you could find two people in Espara more difficult to offend than Verena or myself at this moment.\"\n\n\"You're both so well spoken,\" said Boulidazi. \"I can see why you'd want to dabble on the stage. But now let me have your confidence. Your cousin... has an aspect that blossoms upon consideration. When she entered this room she was merely pretty, but after watching her, listening to her... I feel as though the air has been taken straight out of my lungs.\"\n\nLocke felt as though the air had been taken straight out of his lungs.\n\n\"Tell me, please,\" said Boulidazi, clearly noticing the change in Locke's demeanor as Locke fought for self-control. \"Does she really love the theater? And bladework?\"\n\n\"She, uh, lives for them,\" said Locke." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Are you betrothed to her?\"\n\nLocke was overwhelmed by a flurry of immediate reactions; the urge to stand up, say yes, slap Boulidazi across the face, grab him by his hair, and dig wide furrows in the felt of his billiards table using his teeth... Then came the secondary calculations like a bucket of cold water: Boulidazi would kill him, Sabetha would gladly help, the intrusion of his personal jealousy into his professional character would doom the Gentlemen Bastards to utter failure.\n\n\"No,\" he said, almost calmly, \"no, I've been meant for someone else... since I was barely old enough to walk. We'll wed when she comes of age.\"\n\n\"And Verena?\" said Boulidazi.\n\n(Another less than helpful flash from Locke's imagination, protesting what his higher reasoning knew to be unavoidable. Jean Tannen smashing in through aback door, hoisting Boulidazi over his head, slamming him down across the billiards table... Why were all his fantasies so calamitous for that table, which had done him no injury? And gods damn it anyway, it was never going to happen!)\n\n\"Unattached,\" said Locke, hating the word even as he brought it forth. \"Father and Grandfather have always felt that Verena... is a fruit best left hanging, uh, until they know how she might be most advantageously... plucked.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" said the baron. \"Thank you! That's... welcome news. I hope you won't think of meas, as grasping beyond my station, Lucaza. I come from along and honorable line. I hold several estates with secure incomes. I've much to offer byway of... of a match.\"\n\n\"I'm sure you do,\" said Locke slowly. \"Were she pleased, and with Count Blackspear's consent.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yes, yes. With the family's blessing... and were she pleased.\" Boulidazi ran a hand through his hair and made nervous, meaningless adjustments to his white silk neck-cloth. \"I'll do it, Lucaza. I'll forgive Moncraine, and trust you to keep him under my thumb. I'll provide whatever you need to settle his debts and tame his troupe. All I ask...\"\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"Help me,\" said Boulidazi. \"Help me show Verena my quality. My honorable intentions. Teach me how I might better please her. Advise her favorably on my behalf.\"\n\n\"If Moncraine goes free...\"\n\n\"He will,\" said Boulidazi. \"He won't beat the Weeping Tower a moment longer than he has to be.\"\n\n\"Then I am your man,\" said Locke softly, fighting back further visions of Gennaro Boulidazi spitting up fragments of his billiards table. \"I am for you, my friend.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"WHAT THE HELL'S the matter with us, Jean?\" Locke rubbed his eyes and noticed certain discomforts in his gut and around his ankles, in that order. \"She's rolled us up like a couple of old tents. And what the fuck are these things on my legs?\"\n\nJust above his feet, his thin, pale ankles were encircled by bands of iron. The manacles were loose enough to let blood flow, but weighed about five pounds apiece.\n\n\"I imagine they're to discourage us from swimming,\" said Jean. \"Aren't they thoughtful? They match your eyes.\"\n\n\"The bars across the windows aren't enough, eh? Gods above, my stomach feels like it's trying to eat the rest of me.\"\n\nLocke made a more thorough examination of their surroundings. Cushions, shelves, silks, and lanterns-the cabin was fit for the duke of Camorr. There was even a little rack of books and scrolls next to Jean.\n\n\"Look what she left sitting out for us,\" said Jean. He tossed Locke the leather-bound book he'd been reading. It was an aged quarto with gold leaf alchemically embossed into three lines on the cover:\n\nTHE REPUBLIC OF THIEVES\n\nA TRUE AND TRAGIC HISTORY\n\nCAELLIUS LUCARNO\n\n\"Ohhh,\" said Locke softly, setting the book aside. \"That beauty has a bitch streak as wide as ten rivers.\"\n\n\"How'd she drug you?\" said Jean.\n\n\"Quite embarrassingly.\"\n\nThere was a knock at the cabin door. It opened a moment later, and down the steps came a spry, long-legged fellow with the tan of many active years sunk into his lean features." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Hello, boys,\" said the stranger." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He had a faint Verrari accent. \"Welcome aboard the Volantyne's Resolve. Solus Volantyne, at your service. And I do mean that! You boys are our first and only business on this trip.\"\n\n\"Whatever you're being paid,\" said Locke, \"we can double it if you turn this ship around right now.\"\n\n\"Our mutual friend told me that was probably the first thing you'd say, Master Lazari.\"\n\nLocke cracked his knuckles and glared. He had to give Sabetha credit for at least preserving their false identities, but he didn't want to have any kind thoughts toward her at the moment.\n\n\"I'm inclined to agree with her suggestion,\" continued Volantyne, \"that I'm rather more likely to enjoy success and fair compensation in partnership with the woman who's still at liberty, rather than the two men she brought tome in chains.\"\n\n\"We can triple her payment,\" said Locke.\n\n\"A man who'd trade a sure fortune for the promises of an angry prisoner is far too stupid to be the captain of his own ship,\" said Volantyne.\n\n\"Well, hells,\" said Locke. \"If you won't turncoat, can you at least get me some ship's biscuit or something?\"\n\n\"Our mutual friend said that food would be the second thing on your mind.\" Volantyne folded his arms and smiled. \"But we're not eating ship's biscuit on this leg of the trip. We're eating fresh-baked pepper bread, and goose stuffed with honey-glazed olives, and boiled lake frogs in brandy and cream.\"\n\n\"I got hit on the head somehow,\" said Locke. \"This is the stupidest dream I've had in years, isn't it?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No dream, my friend. We've been setup with a cook so good I'd fuck him six days a week just to keep him aboard, if only I liked men. But he's another gift paid for by our mutual friend. Come on deck and let me explain the conditions of your passage. You lucky, lucky sons of bitches!\"\n\nOn deck, Locke could see that the Volantyne's Resolve was a two-masted brig with her rigging in good order; her sails were neither straight from the yard nor frayed to threads. About two dozen men and women had been formed up to watch Locke and Jean emerge from the great cabin. Most of them had the tan, rangy look of sailors, but a few of the heavier ones, big-boned land animals for sure, looked like freshly hired muscle.\n\n\"This is the easiest cruise we've ever been given,\" said Volantyne. \"We're headed west, up the Cavendria and out to sea. We'll have an autumn excursion fora month, then we'll turn round and take it slow and easy back to Karthain. You gentlemen will enjoy a luxurious cabin, books to read, fine meals. The wines we've laid in for the voyage will make you think you're royalty. All this, on one condition only-good behavior.\"\n\n\"I can pay,\" said Locke, raising his voice to a shout, \"three times what each of you is receiving now! You would have it merely forgetting us back to Karthain! Two days' work, rather than two months!\"\n\n\"Now, sir,\" said Volantyne, looking cross for the first time, \"that's not good behavior at all. Any further talk in that vein will get you sent down to the hold. There's two ways to make this trip-with free limbs and full stomachs, or cinched uptight in darkness, let out once a day to eat and piss. I'm to take the tenderest care with your lives, but your liberty can go straight overboard if you give us trouble.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What about these things around our ankles?\" said Locke.\n\n\"Shields from temptation,\" said Volantyne.\n\n\"Gah,\" Locke muttered. \"Also, where's this food-\"\n\n\"Sirs, the thousand apologies,\" cried a man in a stained brown robe who came stumbling up from below via the main deck hatch. He was pale, with grayish-blond hair, and carried a silver tray set with a plain iron tureen and several loaves of bread. \"I have the foods!\"\n\n\"This famous cook of yours is a Vadran?\" said Jean.\n\n\"Yes, I know,\" said Volantyne, \"but you must trust me. Adalric was trained in Talisham, and he knows his business.\"\n\n\"The oysters, in sauce from ale has I boiled,\" said the cook.\n\nHe held the tray out to Locke, and the scents of fresh food were as good as a fist to the jaw.\n\n\"Um, discussion of the situation,\" said Locke, \"can recommence in about half an hour.\"\n\n\"So long as you quit trying to bribe my crew, you may speak as you please, honored passengers,\" said Volantyne." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "AS THE first day passed, and the second, it became clear that their situation was both the most comfortable and the most vexing imprisonment Locke could have imagined.\n\nTheir meals were plentiful and magnificent, the wine better even than promised, the ale fresh and sweet, and their requests were taken up without hesitation or complaint.\n\n\"These bastards have made their fortunes on this venture,\" said Jean, over the remnants of lunch on the second day. \"Isn't that right, shipmates? It's the only possible explanation for our treatment. A pile of gold in every pocket.\"\n\nEvery meal was eaten in the presence of at least four attendants, silent and polite and utterly vigilant. Every knife and fork was counted, every scrap and bone was collected. Locke could have palmed any number of useful items, but there was no point to it, not until the other difficulties of their situation could be surmounted.\n\nTheir bedding was turned out and replaced each day, and they were kept on deck while it happened. Locke could see just enough of the activity within the cabin to depress his spirits. All of their books were given a shake, their chests were opened and searched, their hammocks scoured, the floor planks examined in minute detail. By the time they were let back in, everything was restored to its proper place and the cabin was as fresh as if it had never been used, but it was useless to hide anything.\n\nThey were searched several times each day, and weren't even permitted to wear shoes. The only extraneous object they possessed, in fact, was Jean's tightly bound lock of Ezri's hair. Locke was surprised to see it on the morning of their third day.\n\n\"I had a few words with Sabetha, after her people finally knocked me down.\" Jean lay in his hammock, idly turning the hair over and over in his hands. \"She said that some courtesies were not to be refused.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Did she say anything else? About me, or for me?\"\n\n\"I think she's said everything she means to say, Locke. This ship's as good as a farewell note.\"\n\n\"She must have given Volantyne and his crew ten pages of directions concerning us.\"\n\n\"Even their little boat is lashed tighter than usual, as though some god might reach down and snatch it off the deck,\" said Jean casually.\n\n\"Oh really?\" Locke slipped out of his hammock, crept over to Jean's side of the cabin, and lowered his voice. \"On the larboard side of the main deck? You think we could make something of it?\"\n\n\"We'd never have time to hoist it properly. But if we could weaken the ropes, and if the deck was pitching...\"\n\n\"Shit,\" said Locke. \"Once we hit the Cavendria, we'll be steady as a cup of tea until we're out the other side. How many of our friends do you figure we could handle at once?\"\n\n\"How many could I handle at once? Let's be pragmatic and say three. I'm pretty sure I could club the whole crew down one or two at a time if nobody raised an alarm, but you've seen their habits. They never work alone. I'm not sure the brute force approach will get us very far.\"\n\n\"You know, it certainly would be nice to receive an unannounced visit from our benefactor Patience,\" said Locke. \"Or anyone associated with her. Right about now. Or... now!\"\n\n\"I think we're on our own,\" said Jean. \"I'm sure someone or something is watching us, but Sabetha put us here. It seems within the rules as Patience explained them.\"\n\n\"I wonder if her Bondsmagi would be so sporting.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well, there is a bright side. We're eating well enough. You're not looking like such a wrenched-out noodle anymore.\"\n\n\"That's great, Jean. I'm not just exiled; I'm being plumped up for slaughter. Suppose there's any chance we might run into Zamira if we reach the Sea of Brass?\"\n\n\"What the hell would she be doing backup here so soon after everything that happened?\" Jean yawned and stretched. \"The Poison Orchid's as likely to come over the horizon and save us as I am to give birth to alive albatross.\"\n\n\"It was just an idle thought,\" said Locke. \"A damned pleasing idle thought. So, I suppose we pray for heavy weather.\"\n\n\"And worry about cutting some ropes,\" said Jean. \"Ideas?\"\n\n\"I could have a makeshift knife on an hour's notice. So long as I knew it would be used before they turned our cabin over the next day.\"\n\n\"Good. And what about our ankle manacles? You've always been better with that sort of thing than I have.\"\n\n\"The mechanisms are delicate. I could come up with bone splinters small enough to fit, but those are brittle. One snap and they'd jam up the locks for good.\"\n\n\"Then we might just have to bear them until we can hit land,\" said Jean. \"Well, first things first. We need to be within reasonable distance of a beach, and we need a rolling deck, and we need to not be tied up in the hold when our chance comes.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "THE SKY turned gray again that night, and ominous clouds boiled on the horizons, but the gentle rolling of the Amathel barely tilted the deck of the Resolve in one direction or another. Locke spent several hours leaning against the main deck rails, feigning placidity, straining secretly for any glimpse of a bolt of lightning or an oncoming thunderhead. The only lights to be seen, however, were the ghostly flickerings from within the black depths of the lake, twinkling like constellations of fire.\n\nTheir progress was slow. The strange autumn winds were against them much of the time, and with no mages to shape the weather to their taste, they had to move by tack after long, slow tack to the southwest. Volantyne and his crew seemed to care not a whit. Whether they sailed half the world or half a mile, their pay would be the same.\n\nOn the night of their fourth day, Locke caught flashes of whitish yellow illuminating the southern horizon, but his excitement died when he realized that he was looking at Lashain.\n\nOn the fifth day they picked up speed, and the capricious winds grew stronger. The whole sky bruised over with promising clouds, and just afternoon the first drops of cool rain began to fall. Locke and Jean retreated to their cabin, trying to look innocent. They buried themselves in books and idle conversation, glancing out the cabin window every few moments, watching in mutual satisfaction as the troughs between the waves deepened and the strands of foam thickened at their crests.\n\nAt the third hour of the afternoon, with the rain steady and the lake rolling at four or five feet, Adalric came to their door to receive instructions for dinner.\n\n\"Perhaps the soup of the veal, masters?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"By all means,\" said Locke. If any chance to escape was coming, he wanted to face it with at least one more of the Vadran prodigy's feasts shoved down his gullet.\n\n\"And how about chicken?\" said Jean.\n\n\"I'll do one the murder right away.\"\n\n\"Dessert too,\" said Locke. \"Let's have a big one tonight. Storms make me hungry.\"\n\n\"I have a cake of the honey and ginger,\" said Adalric.\n\n\"Goodman,\" said Jean. \"And let's have some wine. Two bottles of sparkling apple, eh?\"\n\n\"Two bottles,\" said the cook. \"I has it brung to you.\"\n\n\"Decent fellow, for all that he tramples the language,\" said Locke when the door had closed behind the cook. \"I hate to take advantage of him.\"\n\n\"He won't missus if we slip away,\" said Jean. \"He's got the whole crew to appreciate him. You know what sort of slop they'd be gagging down if he wasn't aboard.\"\n\nLocke went on deck a few minutes later, letting the rain soak him as he stood by the foremast, feigning indifference as the deck rolled slowly from side to side. It was a gentle motion as yet, but if the weather continued to pickup it was a very promising trend indeed.\n\n\"Master Lazari!\" Solus Volantyne came down from the quarterdeck, oilcloak fluttering. \"Surely you'd be more comfortable in your cabin?\"\n\n\"Perhaps our mutual friend neglected to tell you, Captain Volantyne, that Master Callas and myself have been at sea. Compared to what we endured down in the Ghostwinds, this is invigorating.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I do know something of your history, Lazari, but I'm also charged with your safety.\"\n\n\"Well, until someone takes these damned bracelets off my ankles I can't exactly swim to land, can I?\"\n\n\"And what if you catch cold?\"\n\n\"With Adalric aboard? He must have possets that would drive back death itself.\"\n\n\"Will you at least consent to an oilcloak, so you look like less of a crazy landsman?\"\n\n\"That'd be fine.\"\n\nVolantyne summoned a sailor with a spare cloak, and Locke resumed talking as he fastened it over his shoulders. \"Now, pardon my ignorance, but where the hell are we, anyway?\"\n\n\"Forty miles due west of Lashain, give or take a hair in any direction.\"\n\n\"Ah. I thought I spotted the city last night.\"\n\n\"We're not making good westward progress. If I had a schedule to keep I'd be in a black mood, but thanks to you, we're in no hurry, are we?\"\n\n\"Quite. Are those heavier storms to the south?\"\n\n\"That shadow? That's a lee shore, Master Lazari. A damned lee shore. We're eight or nine miles off the southern coast of the Amathel, and fighting to get no closer. If we can punch through this mess and claw another twenty or thirty miles west-nor'west, we should be clear straight to the Cavendria, and from there it's like a wading pond all the way to the Sea of Brass.\"\n\n\"Well, that's good to hear,\" said Locke. \"Rest assured, I've got absolutely no interest in drowning.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "DINNER WAS excellent and productive. Four of Volantyne's sailors watched from the corners of the cabin while Locke and Jean packed away soup, chicken, bread, cake, and sparkling apple wine. Just after opening the second bottle, however, Locke signaled Jean that he was about to have a clumsy moment.\n\nTiming himself to the sway of the ship, Locke swept the new bottle off the table. It landed awkwardly and broke open, spilling cold frothing wine across his bare feet. Realizing that the bottle hadn't shattered into the selection of knife-like shards he'd hoped for, he managed to drop his wineglass as well, with more satisfactory results.\n\n\"Ah, shit, that was good stuff,\" he said loudly, slipping off his chair and crouching above the mess. He waved his hands over it, as though unsure of what to do, and in an instant along, sturdy piece of glass was shifted from his palm to his tunic-sleeve. It was delicate work; a red stain beneath the cloth would surely draw attention.\n\n\"Don't,\" said one of the sailors, waving for one of his companions to goon deck. \"Don't touch anything. We'll get it for you.\"\n\nLocke put his hands up and took several careful steps back.\n\n\"I'd call for more wine,\" said Jean, hoisting his own glass teasingly, \"but it's possible you've had enough.\"\n\n\"That was the motion of the ship,\" said Locke.\n\nThe missing guard returned with a brush and a metal pan. He quickly swept up all the fragments.\n\n\"We'll scrub the deck when we give the cabin a turn tomorrow, sir,\" said one of the sailors.\n\n\"At least it smells nice,\" said Locke." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The guards didn't search him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Locke admired the deepening darkness through the cabin window and allowed himself the luxury of a faint smirk.\n\nWhen the remains of dinner were cleared (every knife and fork and spoon accounted for) and the cabin was his and Jean's again, Locke carefully drew out the shard of glass and set it on the table.\n\n\"Doesn't look like much,\" said Jean.\n\n\"It needs some binding,\" said Locke. \"And I know just whereto get it.\"\n\nWhile Jean leaned against the cabin door, Locke used the glass shard to carefully worry the inside front cover of the copy of The Republic of Thieves. After a few minutes of slicing and peeling, he produced an irregular patch of the binding leather and a quantity of the cord that had gone into the spine of the volume. He nestled the glass fragment inside the leather and wrapped it tightly around the edges, creating something like a tiny handsaw. The leather-bound side could be safely nestled against the palm of a hand, and the cutting edge of the shard could be worked against whatever needed slicing.\n\n\"Now,\" said Locke softly, holding his handiwork up to the lantern-light and examining it with a mixture of pride and trepidation, \"shall we take a turn on deck and enjoy the weather?\"\n\nThe weather had worsened agreeably to a hard-driving autumn rain. The Amathel was whipped up to waves of six or seven feet, and lightning flashed behind the ever-moving clouds.\n\nLocke and Jean, both wearing oilcloaks, settled down against the inner side of the jolly boat lashed upside-down to the main deck. It was about fifteen feet long, of the sort usually hung at a ship's stern. Locke supposed that the urgent need to put the iron bars around the windows of the great cabin had forced the crew to shift the boat. It was secured to the deck via lines and ring-bolts; nothing that a crew of sailors couldn't deal within just a few minutes, but if he and Jean tried to free the boat conventionally it would take far too long to escape notice. Cutting was the answer-weaken the critical lines, wait fora fortuitous roll of the ship, heave the jolly boat loose, and then somehow join it after it pitched over the side." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Jean sat placidly while Locke worked with the all-important glass shard-five minutes, ten minutes, twenty minutes." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Locke's oilcloak was a blessing, making it possible to conceal the activity, but the need to hold the arm and shoulder still put all the burden on wrist and forearm. Locke worked until he ached, then carefully passed the shard to Jean.\n\n\"You two seem strangely heedless of the weather,\" shouted Volantyne, moving past with a lantern. He studied them, his eyes flicking here and therefor anything out of place. Eventually he relaxed, and Locke's heart resumed its usual duties.\n\n\"We're still warm from dinner, Captain,\" said Jean. \"And we've lived through storms on the Sea of Brass. This is a fine diversion from the monotony of our cabin.\"\n\n\"Monotony, perhaps, but also security. You may remain for now, so long as you continue to stay out of the way. We'll have business with the sails soon enough. If we find ourselves much closer to shore, I shall require you to go below.\"\n\n\"Having problems?\" said Locke.\n\n\"Damned nuisance of a wind from the north and the northwest-seems to veer however's least convenient. We're five miles off the beach where we should be ten.\"\n\n\"We are your most loyal and devoted articles of ballast, Captain,\" said Locke. \"Let us digest a bit longer and maybe we'll scuttle back inside.\"\n\nAs soon as Volantyne stepped away, Locke felt Jean get back to work.\n\n\"We don't have much time,\" muttered Jean. \"And one or two uncut lines areas good as twenty; somethings don't break for any man's strength.\"\n\n\"I've done some real damage to my side,\" said Locke. \"All we can do is keep it up as long as possible.\"\n\nThe minutes passed; sailors came and went on deck, checking for faults everywhere but directly behind the two men working desperately to cause one. The ship rolled steadily from side to side, lightning flared on every horizon, and Locke found himself growing more and more tense as the minutes passed. If this failed, he had no doubt that Volantyne's threat to seal them up in one of the holds would be carried out immediately." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Support the writer by proceeding with the storyline.\nTags: fantasy, heist, theater\nAuthor: Scott Lynch\nTitle: The Republic of Thieves\nChapter: 93" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Jean sat placidly while Locke worked with the all-important glass shard-five minutes, ten minutes, twenty minutes." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Locke's oilcloak was a blessing, making it possible to conceal the activity, but the need to hold the arm and shoulder still put all the burden on wrist and forearm. Locke worked until he ached, then carefully passed the shard to Jean.\n\n\"You two seem strangely heedless of the weather,\" shouted Volantyne, moving past with a lantern. He studied them, his eyes flicking here and therefor anything out of place. Eventually he relaxed, and Locke's heart resumed its usual duties.\n\n\"We're still warm from dinner, Captain,\" said Jean. \"And we've lived through storms on the Sea of Brass. This is a fine diversion from the monotony of our cabin.\"\n\n\"Monotony, perhaps, but also security. You may remain for now, so long as you continue to stay out of the way. We'll have business with the sails soon enough. If we find ourselves much closer to shore, I shall require you to go below.\"\n\n\"Having problems?\" said Locke.\n\n\"Damned nuisance of a wind from the north and the northwest-seems to veer however's least convenient. We're five miles off the beach where we should be ten.\"\n\n\"We are your most loyal and devoted articles of ballast, Captain,\" said Locke. \"Let us digest a bit longer and maybe we'll scuttle back inside.\"\n\nAs soon as Volantyne stepped away, Locke felt Jean get back to work.\n\n\"We don't have much time,\" muttered Jean. \"And one or two uncut lines areas good as twenty; somethings don't break for any man's strength.\"\n\n\"I've done some real damage to my side,\" said Locke. \"All we can do is keep it up as long as possible.\"\n\nThe minutes passed; sailors came and went on deck, checking for faults everywhere but directly behind the two men working desperately to cause one. The ship rolled steadily from side to side, lightning flared on every horizon, and Locke found himself growing more and more tense as the minutes passed. If this failed, he had no doubt that Volantyne's threat to seal them up in one of the holds would be carried out immediately." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh, hells,\" muttered Jean. \"Feel that?\"\n\n\"Feel what? Oh, damn.\" The ship had tilted to starboard, and the weight of the jolly boat was pressing more firmly against Locke's back and shoulders. The lines holding it down were starting to give way sooner than he'd expected. \"What the hell do we do now?\"\n\n\"Hold on,\" muttered Jean. The ship tilted to larboard, and there was the faintest scraping noise against the deck. Locke prayed that the tumult of the weather would drown it out for anyone not sitting directly against the boat.\n\nLike a pendulum, the ship swung to starboard again, and this time the scraping noise rose to a screech. The press against Locke's back became ominous, and something snapped loudly just behind him.\n\n\"Shit,\" whispered Jean, \"up and over!\"\n\nThe two Gentlemen Bastards turned and scrambled over the back of the jolly boat at the moment its restraints completely gave way. Locke and Jean rolled off the boat with an embarrassing want of smoothness, landed hard, and the jolly boat took off across the deck, screeching and sliding toward the starboard rail.\n\n\"Ha-ha!\" Locke yelled, unable to contain himself. \"We're off!\"\n\nThe jolly boat slammed against the starboard rail and came to a dead stop.\n\n\"Balls,\" said Locke, not quite as loudly. An instant later, the ship heeled to larboard, and Locke realized that he and Jean were directly in the only path the jolly boat could take when it slid back down the tilting deck. He gave Jean a hard shove to the left, and rolled clear the other way. A moment later the boat scraped and scudded across the deck between them, gathering momentum as it went. Locke turned, certain that it should go over the side this time-" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "With a creaking thump, the boat landed hard against the larboard rail. Although the rail bent, it didn't give way completely, and the upside-down boat remained very much out of the water.\n\n\"Perelandro's dangling cock!\" Locke yelled, lurching to his feet.\n\n\"What the hells do you two think you're doing?\" Solus Volantyne came leaping adroitly across the main deck, lantern still in hand.\n\n\"Your boat's come free! Help us!\" yelled Jean. A moment later he seemed to think better of subterfuge, walloped Volantyne across the jaw with aright hook, and grabbed the lantern as the captain went down.\n\n\"Jean! Behind you!\" Locke yelled, dodging the boat fora second time as the deck tilted yet again.\n\nA crewman had come up behind Jean with a belaying pin in hand. Jean sidestepped the man's first attack and cracked the lantern across the top of his head. Glass shattered, and glowing white alchemical slime sprayed across the poor fellow from forehead to waist. It was generally harmless stuff, but nothing you wanted in your eyes. Moaning and glowing like a ghost out of some fairy story, the man fell against the foremast.\n\nIn front of Locke, the jolly boat slid to starboard, hit the rail at speed, crashed through with a terrible splintering noise, and went over the side.\n\n\"Thank the gods,\" Locke muttered as he ran to the gap in the rail just in time to seethe boat plunge bow-first into the water, like an arrowhead, and get immediately swallowed beneath a crashing wave. \"Oh, COME ON!\"\n\n\"Jump,\" hollered Jean, ducking a swing from a crewman who came at him with an oar. Jean slammed two punches into the unfortunate sailor's ribs, and the man did a convincing imitation of a marionette with its strings cut. \"Get the hell in the water!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The boat sank!\" Locke cried, scanning the darkness in vain fora glimpse of it. Whistles were sounding from the quarterdeck and from within the ship. The whole crew would be roused against them presently. \"I don't see it!\"\n\n\"Can't hear you. Jump!\" Jean dashed across the deck and gave Locke a well-meaning shove through the gap in the railing. There was no time to do anything but gasp in a surprised breath; Locke's oilcloth fluttered around him as he fell like a wounded bat into the dark water of the Amathel.\n\nThe cold hit like a shock. He whirled within the churning blackness, fighting against his cloak and the weight of his ankle manacles. They weren't dragging him straight down, but they would sharply increase the rate at which he would exhaust himself by kicking to keep his head up.\n\nHis face broke the surface; he choked in a breath of air and freshwater spray. The Volantyne's Resolve loomed over him like a monstrous shadow, lit by the shuddering light of a dozen jumping, bobbing lanterns. A familiar dark shape detached itself from some sort of fight against the near rail, and fell toward the water.\n\n\"Jean,\" Locke sputtered, \"there's no-\"\n\nThe lost boat resurfaced like a broaching shark, spat up in a gushing white torrent. Jean landed on it facefirst with a ghastly thump and splashed heavily into the water beside it.\n\n\"Jean,\" Locke screamed, grabbing hold of one of the jolly boat's gunwales and desperately scanning the water for any sign of his friend. The bigger man had already sunk beneath the surface. A wave crashed over Locke's head and tore at his hold on the boat. He spat water and searched desperately... there! A dim shape drifted six or seven feet beneath Locke's toes, lit from below by an eerie blue-white light. Locke dove just as another breaking wave hammered the boat." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Locke grabbed Jean by the collar and felt cold dismay at the feeble response. Fora moment it seemed that the two of them hung suspended in a gray netherworld between lurching wave tops and ghostly light, and Locke suddenly realized the source of the illumination around them. Not lightning or lanterns, but the unknown fires that burned at the very bottom of the Amathel.\n\nGlimpsed underwater, they lost their comforting jewel-like character, and seemed to roil and pulse and blur. They stung Locke's eyes, and his skin crawled with the unreasonable, instinctive sensation that something utterly hostile was nearby-nearby and drawing closer. He hooked his hands under Jean's arms and kicked mightily, heaving the two of them back toward the surface and the storm.\n\nHe scraped his cheek against the jolly boat as he came up, sucked in a deep breath, and heaved at Jean again to get the larger man's head above water. The cold was like a physical pressure, numbing Locke's fingers and slowly turning his limbs to lead.\n\n\"Comeback tome, Jean,\" Locke spat. \"I know your brains are jarred, but Crooked Warden, comeback!\" He yanked at Jean, holding onto the gunwale of the wave-tossed boat with his other hand, and for all his pains succeeded only in nearly capsizing it again. \"Shit!\"\n\nLocke needed to get in first, but if he let Jean go Jean would probably sink again. He spotted the rowing lock, the U-shaped piece of cast iron set into the gunwale to hold an oar. It had been smashed by the boat's slides across the deck, but it might serve anew purpose. Locke seized Jean's oilcloak and twisted one end into a crude knot around the bent rowing lock, so that Jean hung from the boat by his neck and chest. Not a sensible way to leave him, but it would keep him from drifting away while Locke got aboard." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Afresh wave knocked the side of the boat against Locke's head." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Black spots danced before his eyes, but the pain goaded him to furious action. He plunged into the blackness beneath the boat, then clawed his way up to the gunwale on the opposite side. Another wave struck, and out of its froth Locke scrabbled and strained until he was over the edge. He bounced painfully off a rowing bench and flopped into the ankle-deep water sloshing around the bottom.\n\nLocke reached over the side and grabbed Jean. His heaving was desperate, unbalanced, and useless. The little boat bobbled and shook with every effort, rising and falling on the waves like a piston in some nightmarish machine. At last Locke's wits punched through the walls of his exhaustion and panic. He turned Jean sideways and hauled him in afoot and an arm at a time, using his oilcloak for added leverage. Once he was safely in, the bigger man coughed and mumbled and flopped around.\n\n\"Oh, I hate the Eldren, Jean,\" Locke gasped as they lay in the bottom of the tossing boat, lashed by waves and rain. \"I hate 'em. I hate whatever they did, I hate the shit they left behind, I hate the way none of their mysteries ever turnout to be pleasant and fucking good-neighborly!\"\n\n\"Pretty lights,\" muttered Jean.\n\n\"Yeah, pretty lights,\" Locke spat. \"Friendly sailors, the Amathel has it all.\"\n\nLocke nudged Jean aside and sat up. They were bobbing around like a wine cork in a cauldron set to boil, but now that their weight was in the center of the little boat, it seemed better able to bear the tossing. They had drifted astern and inshore of the Volantyne's Resolve, which was now more than fifty yards away. Confused shouts could be heard, but the ship didn't seem to be putting about to come after them. Locke could only hope that Jean's cold-cocking of Volantyne would prevent the rest of the crew from getting things together until it was too late." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Holy hells,\" said Jean, \"how'd I geddhere?\"\n\n\"Never mind that. You see any oars?\"\n\n\"Uh, I thing I bead the crap out of the guy that had them.\" Jean reached up and gingerly prodded his face. \"Aw, gods, I thing I broge my node again!\"\n\n\"You used it to break your fall when you hit the boat.\"\n\n\"Is thad whad hid me?\"\n\n\"Yeah, scared me shitless.\"\n\n\"You saved me!\"\n\n\"It's my turn every couple of years,\" said Locke with a thin smile.\n\n\"Thang you.\"\n\n\"All I did was save my own ass four or five times down the line,\" said Locke. \"And cut you in on a hell of a landing. If the waves keep taking us south, we should hit the beach in just a few miles, but without any oars to keep ourselves under control, it might be a hard way to leave the water.\"\n\nThe waves did their part, bearing their little boat south at a frightful clip, and when the beach finally came into sight their arrival went as hard as Locke had guessed. The Amathel flung them against the black volcanic sand like some monster vomiting up a plaything that had outlasted its interest." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "THE COASTAL road west of Lashain was called the Darksands Stretch, and it was a lonely place to be traveling this windy autumn morning. A single coach, pulled by a team of eight horses, trundled along the centuries-old stones raising spurts of wet gravel in its wake rather than the clouds of dust more common in drier seasons.\n\nThe secure coach service from Salon Corbeau and points farther south was for rich travelers unable to bear the thought of setting foot aboard a ship. With iron-bound doors, shuttered windows, and interior locks, the carriage was a little fortress for passengers afraid of highwaymen.\n\nThe driver wore an armored doublet, as did the guard that sat beside him atop the carriage, cradling a crossbow that looked as though it could put a hole the size of a temple window into whatever it was loosed at.\n\n\"Hey there!\" cried a thin man beside the road. He wore an oilcloak flung back from his shoulders, and there was a larger man on the ground beside him. \"Help us, please!\"\n\nOrdinarily, the driver would have whipped his team forward and raced past anyone attempting to stop them, but everything seemed wrong for an ambush. The ground here was flat for hundreds of yards around, and if these men were decoys, they couldn't have any allies within half a mile. And their aspect seemed genuinely bedraggled: no armor, no weapons, none of the cocksure bravado of the true marauder. The driver pulled on the reins.\n\n\"What do you think you're doing?\" said the crossbowman.\n\n\"Don't get your cock tied in a knot,\" said the driver. \"You're hereto watch my back, aren't you? Stranger! What goes?\"\n\n\"Shipwreck,\" cried the thin man. He was scruffy-looking, of middle height, with light brown hair pulled loosely back at the neck. \"Last night. We got washed ashore.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What ship?\"\n\n\"Volantyne's Resolve, out of Karthain.\"\n\n\"Is your friend hurt?\"\n\n\"He's out cold. Are you bound for Lashain?\"\n\n\"Aye, twenty-six miles byroad. Be there tomorrow. What would you have of us?\"\n\n\"Carry us, on horses or on your tailboard. Our master's syndicate has a shipping agent in Lashain. He can pay for your trouble.\"\n\n\"Driver,\" came a sharp, reedy voice from within the carriage, \"it's not my business to supply rescue to those witless enough to meet disaster on the Amathel, of all places. Pray for their good health if you must, but move on.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said the driver, \"the fellow on the ground looks in a bad way. His nose is as purple as grapes.\"\n\n\"That's not my concern.\"\n\n\"There are certain rules,\" said the driver, \"to how we behave out here, sir, and I'm sorry to have to refuse your command, but we'll be on our way again soon.\"\n\n\"I won't pay to feed them! And I won't pay for the time we're losing by sitting here!\"\n\n\"Sorry again, sir. It's got to be done.\"\n\n\"You're right,\" said the crossbowman with a sigh. \"These fellows ain't no highwaymen.\"\n\nThe driver and the guard climbed down from their seat and walked over to where Locke stood over Jean.\n\n\"If you could just help me haul him to his feet,\" said Locke to the crossbowman, \"we can try and bring him around.\"\n\n\"Beg pardon, stranger,\" said the crossbowman, \"it's plain foolishness to set a loaded piece down. Takes nothing to set one off by accident. One nudge from a false step-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well, just point it away from us,\" muttered the driver.\n\n\"Are you drunk? This onetime in Tamalek I saw a fellow set a crossbow down for just a-\"\n\n\"I'm sure you're right,\" said the driver testily. \"Never, ever set that weapon down for as long as you live. You might accidentally hit some fellow in Tamalek.\"\n\nThe guard sputtered, sighed, and carefully pointed the weapon at a patch of roadside sand. There was aloud, flat crack, and the quarrel was safely embedded in the ground up to its feathers.\n\nThus, it was accomplished. Jean miraculously returned to life, and with a few quick swings of his fists he eloquently convinced the two guards to lie down and be unconscious fora while.\n\n\"I am really, really sorry about this,\" said Locke. \"And you should know, that's not how it normally goes with us.\"\n\n\"Well, how now, tenderhearts?\" shouted the man within the carriage. \"Shows what you know, eh? If you had any gods-damned brains you'd be inside one of these things, not driving it!\"\n\n\"They can't hear you,\" said Locke.\n\n\"Marauders! Sons of filth! Motherless bastards!\" The man inside the box cackled. \"It's all one tome, though. You can't break inhere. Steal whatever you like from my gutless hirelings, sirrahs, but you'll not have anything of mine!\"\n\n\"Gods above,\" said Locke. \"Listen up, you heartless fucking weasel. Your fortress has wheels on it. About a mile to the east there are cliffs above the Amathel. We'll unhitch you there and give your box a good shove over the edge.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I don't believe you!\"\n\n\"Then you'd better practice flying.\" Locke hopped up into the driver's seat and took the reins. \"Come on, let's take shit-sauce here for the shortest trip of his life.\"\n\nJean climbed up beside Locke. Locke urged the well-trained horses forward, and the coach began to roll.\n\n\"Now wait a minute,\" their suddenly unwilling passenger bellowed. \"Stop, stop, stop!\"\n\nLocke let him scream for about a hundred yards before he slowed the team back down.\n\n\"If you want to live,\" said Locke, \"go ahead and open the-\"\n\nThe door banged open. The man who came out was about sixty, short and oval-bellied, with the eyes of a startled rabbit. His hat and dressing gown were crimson silk studded with gold buttons. Locke jumped down and glowered at him.\n\n\"Take that ludicrous thing off,\" he growled.\n\nThe man quickly stripped to his undertunic. Locke gathered his finery, which reeked of sweat, and threw it into the carriage.\n\n\"Where's the food and water?\"\n\nThe man pointed to a storage compartment built into the outside rear of the carriage, just above the tailboard. Locke opened it, selected a few things for himself, then threw some of the neatly wrapped ration packages onto the dirt beside the road.\n\n\"Go wake your friends up and enjoy the walk,\" said Locke as he climbed backup beside Jean. \"Shouldn't be more than a day or so until you reach the outer hamlets of Lashain. Or maybe someone will come along and take pity on you.\"\n\n\"You bastards,\" shouted the de-robed, de-carriaged man. \"Thieving bastards! You'll hang for this! I'll see it done!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That's a remote possibility,\" said Locke. \"But you know what's a certainty? Next fire I need to start, I'm using your clothes to do it, asshole.\"\n\nHe gave a cheery wave, and then the armored coach service was gathering speed along the road, bound not for Lashain but Karthain, the long way around the Amathel." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I never knew anymore beautiful than you:\n\nI have hunted you under my thoughts,\n\nI have broken down under the wind\n\nAnd into the roses looking for you.\n\nI shall never find any\n\ngreater than you.\n\n-Carl Sandburg\n\nfrom'The Great Hunt\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"WHY IN ALL the hells do you take this abuse?\" said Jean as he and Jenora sat together over coffee the second morning after the arrival of the Gentlemen Bastards in Espara. \"Dealing with Moncraine, the debts, the bullshit-\"\n\n\"Those of us left are the stakeholders,\" said Jenora. \"We own shares in the common property, and shares of the profits, when those miraculously appear. Some of us saved for years to make these investments. If we walkaway from Moncraine, we forfeit everything.\"\n\n\"Ah.\"\n\n\"Look at Alondo. He had a wild night at cards and he used the take to buy his claim in the troupe. That was three years ago. We were doing Ten Honest Turncoats then, and A Thousand Swords for Therim Pel and The All-Murderers Ball. A dozen full productions a year, masques for Countess Antonia, festival plays, and we were touring out west, where the countryside's not the gods-damned waste it is between here and Camorr. I mean, we had prospects; we weren't out of our minds.\"\n\n\"I never said you were.\"\n\n\"It's mostly hired players and the short-timers that evaporated onus. They don't have any anchors except a weekly wage, and they can make that with Basanti. Hell, they'll happily take less from him, because at least they're sure to play.\"\n\n\"What happened?\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" she said, staring into her mug as though it might conceal new answers. \"I guess sometimes there's just a darkness in someone. You hope it'll go away.\"\n\n\"Moncraine, you mean.\"\n\n\"If you could have seen him back in those days, I think you'd understand. You know about the Forty Corpses?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Um..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "if I say no, do I become the forty-first?\"\n\n\"If I killed people, glass-eyes, Moncraine wouldn't have lived long enough to be arrested. The Forty Corpses is what we call the forty famous plays that survived the fall of the empire. The big ones by all the famous Throne Therins... Lucarno, Viscora, that bunch.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" said Jean.\n\n\"They're called corpses because they haven't changed for four or five centuries. I mean, we love them, most of them, but they do molder a bit. They get recited like temple ritual, dry and lifeless. Except, when Moncraine was on, when Moncraine was good, he made the corpses jump out of their graves. It was like he was a spark and the whole troupe would catch fire from it. And when you've seen that, when you've been apart of it... I tell you, Jovanno, you'd put up with nearly anything if only you could have it again.\"\n\n\"I am returned,\" boomed a voice from the inn-yard door, \"from the exile to which my pride had sentenced me!\"\n\n\"Oh, gods below, you people actually did it,\" said Jenora, leaping out of her chair. A man entered the common room, a big dark Syresti in dirty clothing, and cried out when he saw her.\n\n\"Jenora, my dusky vision, I knew that I could-\"\n\nWhatever he'd known was lost as Jenora's open palm slammed into his cheek. Jean blinked; her arm had been a pale brown arc. He made a mental note that she was quick when angered.\n\n\"Jasmer,\" she hollered, \"you stupid, stubborn, bottle-sucking, lard-witted fuck! You nearly ruined us! It wasn't your damn pride that put you in gaol, it was your fists!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Peace, Jenora,\" muttered Moncraine." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Ow. I was sort of quoting a play.\"\n\n\"Aiiiiiaahhhhhhhh!\" screamed Mistress Gloriano, rushing in from aside hall. \"I don't believe it! The Camorri got you out! And it's more than you deserve, you lousy wretch! You lousy Syresti drunkard!\"\n\n\"All's well, Auntie, I've already hit him for both of us,\" said Jenora.\n\n\"Oh, hell's hungry kittens,\" muttered Sylvanus, wandering in behind Mistress Gloriano. His bloodshot eyes and sleep-swept hair gave him the look of a man who'd been caught in a windstorm. \"I seethe guards at the Weeping Tower can be bribed after all.\"\n\n\"Good morning to you too, Andrassus,\" said Moncraine. \"It warms the deep crevices of my heart to hear so many possible explanations for my release except the thought that I might be innocent.\"\n\n\"You're as innocent as we convinced Boulidazi to pretend you are,\" said Sabetha, entering from the street. She and Locke had left early that morning to hover around the Weeping Tower, ready to snatch Moncraine up as soon as he was released following his appearance in court.\n\n\"He did say some unexpected and handsome things,\" said Moncraine.\n\n\"You going to call the meeting to order,\" said Sabetha, \"or should I?\"\n\n\"I can break the news, gir-Verena. Thank you kindly.\" Moncraine cleared his throat. \"A moment of your time, gentlemen and ladies of the Moncraine Company. And you as well, Andrassus. And our, uh, benefactor and patient creditor, Mistress Gloriano. There are some... changes in the offing.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Sweet gods,\" said Sylvanus, \"you coal-skinned, life-ruining bastard, are you actually suggesting that gainful employment is about to get its hands around our throats again?\"\n\n\"Sylvanus, I love you as I love my own Syresti blood,\" said Moncraine, \"but shut your dribbling booze-hole. And yes, Espara will have its production of the Moncraine Company's The Republic of Thieves.\"\n\nSabetha coughed.\n\n\"I am compelled, however, to accept certain arrangements,\" continued Moncraine. \"Lord Boulidazi's agreed to reconsider my, er, refusal of his patronage offer. Once Salvard has the papers ready, we're the Moncraine-Boulidazi Company.\"\n\n\"A patron,\" said Mistress Gloriano in disbelief. \"Does this mean we might get paid back for our-\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Locke, strolling in from the inn-yard with several purses in his hands. \"And here's yours.\"\n\n\"Gandolo's privates, boy!\" She caught the jingling bag Locke threw at her. \"I simply don't believe it.\"\n\n\"Your countinghouse will believe it for you,\" said Locke. \"That's twelve royals to square you. Lord Boulidazi is buying out Master Moncraine's debts to relieve him of the suffering brought on by their contemplation.\"\n\n\"To wind a cord about my legs so he can fly me like a kite,\" said Moncraine through gritted teeth.\n\n\"To keep you from getting knifed in a gods-damned alley!\" said Sabetha.\n\n\"Not that this isn't miraculous,\" said Jenora, \"but those of us with shares in the company have precedence over any arrangement Boulidazi might have proposed. Noble or not, we have papers he can't just piss on.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I realize that,\" said Locke. \"We're not hereto pry your shares out from under you. Boulidazi is giving Moncraine the funds he needs as an advance against Moncraine's future share of the company's profits. Your interest is protected.\"\n\n\"That's as maybe,\" said Jenora, \"but if this company is back on a paying basis, I want another set of eyes on the books. No offense, Jasmer, but strange things can happen to profits before they reach the stakeholders.\"\n\n\"The one for figures is Jovanno,\" said Locke. \"He's a genius with them.\"\n\n\"Hey, thanks for volunteering me,\" said Jean. \"I was wondering when I could stop doing interesting things and go bury myself in account ledgers.\"\n\n\"I meant it as a compliment! Besides, given a choice, would you rather trust me, or the Asinos-\"\n\n\"Dammit,\" Jean growled. \"I'll see to the books.\"\n\n\"Master Moncraine,\" said Locke, \"this, by the way, is my cousin, Jovanno de Barra.\"\n\n\"The third of the mysterious Camorri,\" said Jasmer. \"And where are four and five?\"\n\n\"The Asino brothers are still asleep,\" said Jean. \"And when they wake I expect they'll be hungover. They crossed bottles with that thing.\" He gestured at Sylvanus. \"It was all I could do to keep them alive.\"\n\n\"Well, then,\" said Moncraine, \"let us yet be merciful. I'm fora bath and fresh clothes. Someone hunt down Alondo, and we'll have our proper meeting about the play after luncheon. How's that sound?\"\n\n\"Moncraine!\" The street door burst inward, propelled by a kick from an unpleasant-looking man. His expensive clothes were stained with wine, sauces, and ominous dark patches that had nothing to do with food. Half a dozen men and women followed him into the room, clearly assorted species of leg-breakers. The Right People of Espara were on the scene." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh, good morning, Shepherd. Can I offer you some refresh-\"\n\n\"Moncraine,\" said the man called Shepherd, \"you sack of dried-up whores' cunt leather! Did you stop at a countinghouse after your escape from the Weeping Tower?\"\n\n\"I haven't had time. But-\"\n\n\"At some point, Moncraine, compound interest becomes less interesting to my boss than shoving you up a dead horse's ass and sinking you in a fucking swamp.\"\n\n\"Excuse me,\" said Locke, meekly.\n\n\"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was the Children's Festival this week,\" said Shepherd. \"You looking for an ass-kicking or what?\"\n\n\"Can I ask how much Master Moncraine owes your boss?\"\n\n\"Eighteen royals, four fifths, thirty-six coppins, accurate to this very hour.\"\n\n\"Thought so. There's nineteen in this bag,\" said Locke, holding out a leather purse. \"From Moncraine, of course. He just likes to draw these things out, you know. For dramatic effect.\"\n\n\"This a fucking joke?\"\n\n\"Nineteen royals,\" said Locke. \"No joke.\"\n\nShepherd slipped the purse open, ran his fingers through the coins inside, and gave a startled grunt.\n\n\"Strange days are upon us.\" He snapped the purse shut. \"Signs and wonders. Jasmer Moncraine has paid a debt. I'd say my fucking prayers tonight, I would.\"\n\n\"Are we square?\" said Moncraine.\n\n\"Square?\" said Shepherd. \"Yeah, this matter's closed. But don't come crawling back for more, Moncraine. Not fora few months, at least. Let the boss forget what a degenerate ass-chancre you are.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Sure,\" said Moncraine. \"Just as you say.\"\n\n\"Of course, if you had any brains at all you'd never risk the chance of seeing me again.\" Shepherd sketched a salute in the air, turned, and left along with his crew of thugs, most of whom looked disappointed.\n\n\"A word,\" said Moncraine, leading Locke off to one side of the room. \"While I'm pleased as a baby on abreast to have that weight lifted, I begin to wonder if I'm meant to be nothing but a mute witness to my own affairs from now on.\"\n\n\"If you'd had your way you'd be starting your real prison sentence today,\" said Locke. \"You can't blame us for wanting to keep you out of further trouble.\"\n\n\"I'm not pleased to be treated like I can't handle simple business. Give me the purses you have left, and I'll dispense with my own debts.\"\n\n\"The tailor, the bootmaker, the scrivener, and the actors that left for Basanti's company? We can hunt them down ourselves, thank you.\"\n\n\"They're not your accounts to close, boy!\"\n\n\"And this isn't your money to hold,\" said Locke.\n\n\"Jasmer,\" said Sabetha, coming up behind them with Jean in tow, \"I'd hate to think that you were trying to corner and intimidate one of us privately.\"\n\n\"We were merely discussing how I might take responsibility for my own shortcomings,\" said Moncraine.\n\n\"You can hold to the deal,\" said Sabetha. \"And remember who got you out of the Weeping Tower, and brought in our new patron. Your job is to give us a play. Where that's concerned, we're your subjects, but where your safety is concerned, you're ours.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well,\" said Moncraine, \"don't I feel enfolded in the bosom of love itself.\"\n\n\"Just try not to screw anything else up,\" said Sabetha. \"It won't be that hard a life.\"\n\n\"I'll go have my bath, then,\" said Moncraine. \"Would the three of you care to watch, to make sure I don't drown myself?\"\n\n\"If you did that,\" said Locke, \"you'd never have the satisfaction of bossing us around onstage.\"\n\n\"True enough.\" Moncraine scratched at his dark gray stubble. \"See you after luncheon, then. Oh, since these are matters relating to the play... Lucaza, get a dozen chairs from the common room and set them out in the inn-yard. Verena, dig through the common property to find all the copies of The Republic of Thieves we have. Jenora can lend you a hand.\"\n\n\"Of course,\" said Sabetha.\n\n\"Good. Now, if I'm wanted for any further business, I'll be in my room with no clothes on.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "JUST BEFORE noon the sun passed behind a thick bank of clouds, and its brain-poaching heat was cut to a more bearable lazy warmth. The mud of the inn-yard, late resting place of the very pickled Sylvanus Olivios Andrassus, had dried to a soft crust beneath the feet of the excited and bewildered Moncraine-Boulidazi Company.\n\nAll five Gentlemen Bastards had seats, though Calo and Galdo, with dark patches under their eyes, pointedly refused to sit together and so bookended Locke, Jean, and Sabetha.\n\nAlondo flipped idly through a torn and stained copy of The Republic of Thieves. Each volume in the little stack of scripts found by Sabetha was a different size, and no two had been copied in the same hand. Some were marked MONCRAINE COMPANY or SCRIBED FOR J. MONCRAINE, while others were the ex-property of other troupes. One even bore the legend BASANTI on its back cover.\n\nSylvanus, sober, or at least not actively imbibing, sat next to Jenora. Alondo's cousin stood against a wall, arms folded.\n\nThis, then, was the complete roster of the company. Locke sighed.\n\n\"Hello again.\" Moncraine appeared, looking almost respectable in a quilted gray doublet and black breeches. \"Now, let us discover together which of history's mighty entities are sitting with us, and which ones we shall have to beg, borrow, or steal. You!\"\n\n\"Me, sir?\" said Alondo's cousin.\n\n\"Yes. Who in all the hells are you? Are you a Camorri?\"\n\n\"Oh, gods above, no, sir. I'm Alondo's cousin.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Got a name?\"\n\n\"Djunkhar Kurlin. Everyone calls me Donker.\"\n\n\"Bad fucking luck. You an actor?\"\n\n\"No, sir, a hostler.\"\n\n\"What do you mean by spying on my company's meeting like this?\"\n\n\"I just want to get killed onstage, sir.\"\n\n\"Fuck the stage. Come here and I'll grant your wish right now.\"\n\n\"He means,\" said Jean, \"that we promised him a bit part in exchange for helping us selloff some surplus horseflesh.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" said Moncraine. \"An enthusiast. I'd be very pleased to help you die onstage. Stay on my good side and it can even be pretend.\"\n\n\"Uh, thank you, sir.\"\n\n\"Now,\" said Moncraine. \"We need ourselves an Aurin. Aurin is a young man of Therim Pel, basically good-hearted, unsure of himself. He's also the only son and heir to the emperor. Looks like we've got a surplus of young men, so you can all fight it out over the next few days. And we'll need an Amadine-\"\n\n\"Hey,\" said Calo. \"Sorry to interrupt. I was just wondering, before we all get measured for codpieces or whatever, where the hell are we supposed to be giving this play? I hear this Basanti has a theater of his own. What do we have?\"\n\n\"You're one of the Asino brothers, right?\" said Moncraine.\n\n\"Giacomo Asino.\"\n\n\"Well, being from Camorr, Giacomo, you probably don't know about the Old Pearl. It's a public theater, built by some count-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Poldaris the Just,\" muttered Sylvanus.\n\n\"Built by Poldaris the Just,\" said Moncraine, \"as his perpetual legacy to the people of Espara. Big stone amphitheater, about two hundred years old.\"\n\n\"One hundred and eighty-eight,\" said Sylvanus.\n\n\"Apologies, Sylvanus, unlike you I wasn't there. So you see, Giacomo, we can use it, as long as we pay a little fee to the countess\" envoy of ceremonies.\"\n\n\"If it's such a fine place, why did Basanti build his own?\"\n\n\"The Old Pearl is perfectly adequate,\" said Moncraine. \"Basanti built to flatter his self-regard, not fatten his pocketbook.\"\n\n\"Because businessmen like to spend lots of money to replace perfectly adequate structures they can use for nearly nothing, right?\"\n\n\"Look, boy,\" said Moncraine, \"it wouldn't matter if Basanti's new theater turned dog turds into platinum, while merely setting foot inside the Old Pearl gave people leprosy. The Old Pearl's it. There's no time or money for anything else.\"\n\n\"Does it?\" said Calo. \"Give people leprosy, I mean?\"\n\n\"Go lick the stage and find out. Now, let's talk about Amadine. Amadine is a thief in a time of peace and abundance. Therim Pel has grown a crop of bandits in the ancient catacombs beneath the city. They mock the customs of the upright people, of the emperor and his nobles. Some of them even call their little world a republic. Amadine is their leader.\"\n\n\"You should be our Amadine, Jasmer,\" said Sylvanus. \"Think of the pretty skirts Jenora could sew for you!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Verena's our Amadine,\" said Moncraine." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There's a certain deficiency of breasts in the company, and while yours maybe larger than hers, Sylvanus, I doubt as many people would pay to see them. No, since our former Amadine abandoned us... she'll do.\"\n\nSabetha gave a slight, satisfied nod.\n\n\"Now, everyone take a copy of the lines. Have them out for consultation. A troupe learns a play like we all learn to screw, stumbling and jostling until everything's finally in the right place.\"\n\nLocke felt his cheeks warm a bit, though the sun was still hidden away behind the high wall of summer clouds.\n\n\"So, Aurin falls for Amadine, and they have lots of problems, and it's all very romantic and tragic and the audience gives us ever so much money to see it,\" said Moncraine. \"But to get there we've got to sharpen things to a fine point... slash some deadweight from the text. I'll give you full cuts later, but for now I think we can discard all the bits with Marolus the courtier. And we'll cut Avunculo, and Twitch, the comic relief thieves, fora certainty.\"\n\n\"Aye, a certainty,\" said Sylvanus, \"and what a bold decision that is, given that our Marolus, Avunculo, and Twitch all ran across town chasing Basanti's coin when you took up lèse-majesté as anew hobby.\"\n\n\"Thank you, Andrassus,\" said Moncraine. \"You'll have many weeks to belittle my every choice; don't spend yourself in one afternoon. Now you, Asino-\"\n\n\"Castellano,\" said Galdo, yawning.\n\n\"Castellano. Stand up. Wait, you can read, can't you? You can all read, I assume?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Reading, is that where you draw pictures with chalk or where you bang a stick on a drum?\" said Galdo. \"I get confused.\"\n\n\"The first thing that happens,\" said Moncraine with a scowl, \"the first character the audience meets, is the Chorus. Outcomes the Chorus-give us his lines, Castellano.\"\n\n\"Um,\" said Galdo, staring down at his little book.\n\n\"What the fuck's the matter with you, boy?\" shouted Moncraine. \"Who says'um'when they've got the script in their hands? If you say \"um\" in front of five hundred people, I guarantee that some unwashed, wine-sucking cow down in the penny pit will throw something at you. They wait on any excuse.\"\n\n\"Sorry,\" said Galdo. He cleared his throat, and read:\n\n\"You see us wrong, who see with your eyes,\n\nAnd hear nothing true, though straining your ears.\n\nWhat thieves of wonder are these poor senses, whispering:\n\nThis stage is wood, these men are dust-\n\nAnd dust their deeds, these centuries gone.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Jasmer.\n\n\"What do you mean, \"no\"?\"\n\n\"You're reciting, not orating. The Chorus is a character. The Chorus, in his own mind, is flesh and blood. He's not reading lines out of a little book. He's on a mission.\"\n\n\"If you say so,\" said Galdo.\n\n\"Sit down,\" said Moncraine. \"Other Asino, stand up. Can you do better than your brother?\"\n\n\"Just ask the girls he's been with,\" said Calo.\n\n\"Give us a Chorus.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Calo stood up, straightened his back, puffed out his chest, and began to read loudly, clearly, emphasizing words that Galdo had read flatly:\n\n\"You see us wrong, who see with your eyes,\n\nAnd hear nothing true, though straining your ears.\n\nWhat thieves of wonder are these poor senses, whispering-\"\n\n\"Enough,\" said Jasmer. \"Better. You're giving it rhythm, stressing the right words, orating with some little competence. But you're still just reciting the words as though they were ritual in a book.\"\n\n\"They are just words in a book,\" said Calo.\n\n\"They area man's words!\" said Moncraine. \"They area man's words. Not some dull formula. Put flesh and blood behind them, else why should anyone pay to see onstage what they could read quietly for themselves?\"\n\n\"Because they can't fuckin\" read?\" said Galdo.\n\n\"Stand up again, Castellano. No, no, Giacomo, don't sit down. I want you both for this. I'll show you my point so that even Camorri dullards can take it to heart. Castellano, go over to your brother. Keep your script in hand. You are angry with your brother, Castellano! Angry at what a dunce he is. He doesn't understand these lines. So now you will show him!\" Moncraine steadily raised his voice. \"Correct him! Perform them to him as though he is an IDIOT!\"\n\n\"You see us wrong, who see with your eyes!\" said Galdo. He gestured disdainfully at his own face with his freehand, and took two threatening steps closer to Calo. \"And hear us not at all, though straining your ears!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He reached out and snapped a finger against one of Calo's ears. The long-haired twin recoiled, and Galdo moved aggressively toward him once again.\n\n\"What thieves of wonder are these poor senses,\" said Galdo, all but hissing with disdain, \"whispering: this stage is wood, these men are dust, and dust their deeds and thousand... dust their ducks... aw, shit, lost myself, sorry.\"\n\n\"It's all right,\" said Moncraine. \"You had something there, didn't you?\"\n\n\"That was fun,\" said Galdo. \"I think I see what you mean.\"\n\n\"Words are dead until you give them a context,\" said Moncraine. \"Until you put a character behind them, and give him a reason to speak them in a certain fashion.\"\n\n\"Can I do it back to him like he's the stupid one?\" said Calo.\n\n\"No. I've made my point,\" said Moncraine. \"You Camorri do have a certain poise and inventiveness. I just need to awaken you to its proper employment. Now, what's our Chorus doing here?\"\n\n\"He's pleading,\" said Jean.\n\n\"Pleading. Yes. Exactly. First thing, outcomes the Chorus to plead to the crowd. The hot, sweaty, drunk, and skeptical crowd. Listen up, you unworthy fucking mongrels! Look, there's a play going on, right in front of you! Shut up and give it the attention it deserves!\"\n\nMoncraine changed his voice and poise in an instant. Without so much as a glance at the script, he spoke:\n\n\"What thieves of wonder are these poor senses, whispering:" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This stage is wood, these men are dust-\n\nAnd dust their deeds, these centuries gone.\n\nFor us it is not so.\n\nSee now, and conjure with present vigor,\n\nA happy empire! Her foes sleep in ruins of cold ambitions,\n\nAnd take for law the merest whim of all-conquering Salerius\n\nSecond of that name, and most imperial to bear it!\n\nHis youth spent in dreary march and stern discipline\n\nWherein he met the proudest neighbors of his empire-\n\nWith trampled fields for his court, red swords for ambassadors,\n\nAnd granted, to each in turn, his attention most humbling.\n\nNow all who would not bow are hewn at the feet to better help them kneel.\"\n\nMoncraine cleared his throat. \"There. I have had my plea. I have taken command, shut those slack jaws, turned those gimlet eyes to the stage. I am midwife to wonders. With their attention snared, I give them history. We are back in the time of the Therin Throne, of Salerius II. An emperor who went out and kicked some ass. Just as we shall, perhaps excepting Sylvanus.\"\n\nSylvanus rose and tossed his copy of the script aside. Jenora managed to catch it before it hit the ground.\n\n\"Chorus, you call yourself,\" he said. \"You've the presence of a mouse fart in a high wind. Stand aside, and try not to catch fire if I shed sparks of genius.\"\n\nIf Locke had been impressed by the change in Moncraine's demeanor, he was astounded by the change in Sylvanus. The old man's perpetually sour, unfocused, liquor-addled disposition vanished, and without warning he was speaking clearly, invitingly, charmingly:" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"From war long waged comes peace well lived,\n\nAnd now, twenty years of blessed interval has set\n\nA final laurel, light upon the brow of bold, deserving Salerius!\n\nYet heavy sits this peace upon his only son and heir.\n\nWhere once the lion roared, now dies the faintest echo of warlike times,\n\nAll eyes turn upon the cub, and all men wait\n\nto behold the wrath and majesty\n\nthat must spring from such mighty paternity!\n\nAlas, the father, in sparing not the foes of his youth\n\nHas left the son no foe for his inheritance.\n\nCitizens, friends, dutiful and imperial-\n\nNow give us precious indulgence,\n\nsee past this fragile artifice!\n\nLet willing hearts rule dullard eyes and ears,\n\nAnd of this stage you shall make the empire;\n\nFrom the dust of an undone age hear living words,\n\non the breath of living men!\n\nDefy the limitations of our poor pretending,\n\nAnd with us, jointly, devise and receive\n\nthe tale of Aurin, son and inheritor of old Salerius.\n\nAnd if it be true that sorrow is wisdom's seed\n\nLearn now why never a wiser man was emperor made.\"\n\n\"Well remembered, I'll give you that,\" said Moncraine. \"But then, anything more than three lines is well remembered, where you're concerned.\"\n\n\"It's as fresh now as the last time we did it,\" said Sylvanus. \"Fifteen years ago.\"\n\n\"That's you and I that would make a fair Chorus,\" sighed Moncraine. \"But we need a Salerius, and we need a magician to advise him and do all the threatening parts, or else the plot goes pear-shaped.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I'll be the Chorus!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "said Galdo. \"I can do this. Wake everyone up at the beginning, then sit back and watch the rest of you in the play. That sounds like a damn good job.\"\n\n\"The hell you'll do it,\" said Calo. \"You and that shaved head, you look like a vulture's cock. This job calls for some elegance.\"\n\n\"You see us wrong,\" said Galdo, \"who are about to get your fuckin' ass kicked!\"\n\n\"Shut up, idiots.\" Moncraine glowered at the twins until they settled down. \"It would be to our advantage to leave Sylvanus and myself free for other parts, so yes, one of you may have the Chorus. But you won't scrap for it in the dirt; you'll both learn the part and strive to better one another in it. I don't have to make a final decision for sometime.\"\n\n\"And what does the loser get?\" said Calo.\n\n\"The loser will understudy the winner, in case the winner should be carried off by wild hounds. And don't worry; there'll be other parts to fill.\n\n\"Now,\" said Moncraine. \"Let's break ourselves up and put Alondo and our other Camorri through some paces, to see where their alleged strengths lie.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "THE SUN moved its way and the clouds moved theirs. Before another hour passed the inn-yard was once again in the full light and heat of day. Moncraine donned abroad-brimmed hat, but otherwise seemed heedless of the temperature. Sylvanus and Jenora clung to the inn walls, while Sabetha and the boys darted in and out of cover as they were required to play scenes.\n\n\"Our young prince Aurin lives in his father's shadow,\" said Moncraine.\n\n\"He's probably glad to be out of the gods-damned sun, then!\" panted Galdo.\n\n\"There's no glory to be had because Salerius II already went out and had it,\" continued Moncraine. \"No wars to fight, no lands to claim, and it's still an emperor or two to go before the Vadrans are going to start kicking things over up north. As if that wasn't bad enough, Aurin has a best friend named Ferrin. Ferrin's even hungrier for glory than Aurin is, and he won't shut up about it. Let's do... Act one, scene two. Alondo, you do Aurin, and let's have Jovanno give us a Ferrin.\"\n\nAlondo leaned back lazily in a chair. Jean approached him, reading from his copy of the script:\n\n\"What's this, lazy lion cub?\n\nThe sands of the morning are half run from the glass!\n\nThere's nothing in your bed'tis worth such fascination.\n\nThe sun rules the sky, your father his kingdom,\n\nAnd you rule a chamber ten paces by ten!\"\n\nAlondo laughed, and answered:\n\n\"Why bean emperor's son, if I must rise\n\nas though to reap the fields?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "What profit, then, in my paternity?\n\nWhat man lives, who, more than I,\n\nhas rightful claim to leisure?\"\n\n\"He that has given you leisure,\" said Jean. \"Having carved it like rare meat from the bones of his enemies.\"\n\n\"Enough,\" said Moncraine. \"Less reciting, Jovanno. Less formula.\"\n\n\"Uh, sure,\" said Jean, obviously feeling out of his depth. \"Whatever you say.\"\n\n\"Alondo, takeover Ferrin. Lucaza, let's have you see what you can make of Aurin.\"\n\nLocke had to admit to himself that Jean was the least comfortable of the five of them with what was going on. Although he was always eager to play a role in any crooked scheme that required it of him, he tended to stay within narrower bounds than Locke or Sabetha or even the Sanzas. Jean was a consummate'straight man\"-the angry bodyguard, the dutiful clerk, the respectable servant. He was a solid wall for victims of their games to bounce off of, but not the sort to jump back and forth rapidly between roles.\n\nLocke set these thoughts aside, and tried to imagine himself as Aurin. He recalled his own lack of sweet humor each time he was yanked from sleep early, most frequently because of some Sanza mischief. The memory served him well, and he spoke:\n\n\"Would you instruct me in the love of my own father?\n\nYou push presumption to its limits, Ferrin.\n\nHad I wished to wake to scorn and remonstration,\n\nI would have married by now.\"\n\nAlondo assumed a more energetic persona, more confident and forceful in speech:" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Fairly spoken, O prince, O majesty! I cry mercy.\n\nI did not come to rudely trample dozy dreams,\n\nNor correct you in honoring our lord, your father.\n\nYour perfect love for him is reckoned of a measure\n\nWith your devotion to warm, soft beds\n\nAnd therefore lies beyond all question.\"\n\n\"Were you not the great friend of my youth,\" said Locke, deciding a laugh would be a good thing to add,\n\n\"But the unresting spirit of some foe\n\nSlain in Father's wars,\n\nYou could scarce dome more vexation, Ferrin.\n\nThou art like a marriage,\n\nLacking only the pretty face and pleasant couplings-\n\nYou do so busy my mornings with rebukes\n\nI half-forget which of us is royal.\"\n\n\"Good,\" said Moncraine. \"Good enough. Friendly banter, hiding something. Ferrin sees his ticket to glory lazing around, accomplishing nothing. These two need each other, and they resent it while trying to hide it behind their good cheer.\"\n\n\"Moncraine, for the love of all the gods, there'll be no play to see and no parts to act if you explain everything at the first chance,\" said Sylvanus.\n\n\"I don't mind,\" said Alondo.\n\n\"Nor I,\" said Locke. \"I think it's helping. Me, at least.\"\n\n\"Moncraine would teach you how to play every part as Moncraine,\" chuckled Sylvanus. \"Don't forget that.\"\n\n\"Not an actor that lives wouldn't make love to the sound of his own voice,\" said Moncraine, \"if only he could. You're no exception, Andrassus. Now, let's find some swords. Ferrin talks Aurin into practicing in the gardens, and that's where the plot winds them in its coils.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Hours passed in sweat and toil. Back and forth in the sun they pretended to fight, with notched wooden blades musty from storage. Locke and Jean and Alondo rotated roles, and Moncraine even swapped in the Sanzas for variety, until it became a sort of whirling pantomime brawl. Stab, parry, recover, deliver lines. Parry, dodge, deliver lines, parry, deliver lines...\n\nSylvanus procured a bottle of wine and ended his personal drought. He shouted encouragement at the duelists all afternoon, but didn't move once from his chosen spot in the shade, near Sabetha and Jenora. As the sun drew down toward the west, Moncraine finally called a halt.\n\n\"There we are, boys, that's enough fora mild beginning.\"\n\n\"Mild?\" wheezed Alondo. He'd kept his composure fora respectable length of time, but wilted with the rest of them as the muttering and swordplay had drawn on.\n\n\"Aye, mild. You're out of condition, Alondo. You young pups have all the leaping about to do, and nearly all the speaking. If the audience sees you sucking air like a fish on the bottom of a boat-\"\n\n\"They'll throw things, right,\" said Alondo. \"I've been pelted with vegetables before.\"\n\n\"Not in my company you haven't,\" growled Moncraine. \"Right, all of you, sit down before you throw up.\"\n\nThe admonition came too late for Calo, already wobbling from his hangover. He noisily lost whatever remained in his stomach in afar corner of the inn-yard.\n\n\"Music to my ears,\" said Moncraine. \"See, Andrassus? So long as I can inspire that sort of reaction in our bold young lads, I believe I may claim not to have lost my touch.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What do you suppose for us, then?\" said Sylvanus.\n\n\"The audience might notice, were the emperor of the Therin Throne such a fine rich lovely shade of brown as myself, that his son ought not be a plain pink Therin,\" said Moncraine. \"And the part of the magician requires more moving about, so I'll take it. That leaves you to sit the throne.\"\n\n\"I shall be imperial,\" sighed Sylvanus.\n\n\"Good,\" said Moncraine. \"Now, I need an ale before I'm baked like a pie.\"\n\n\"Emperor, eh?\" said Locke, sinking down against the wall next to Sylvanus. \"Why so glum? Sounds like a good part.\"\n\n\"It is,\" said Sylvanus, \"for the few lines he has. It's not the father's play, but the son's.\" The old man took a swig from his bottle and made no effort to pass it around. \"I envy you little shits. I do, though no one could accuse you of any deep knowledge of the craft.\"\n\n\"What's to envy?\" said Alondo. \"We're out there melting in the heat while you get to sit in the shade.\"\n\n\"Heh,\" said Sylvanus. \"Spoken like a true lad of none and twenty years. At my age you don't get to sit in the shade, boy. That's where you're sent to keep out of everyone else's way.\"\n\n\"You're being morose,\" said Alondo. \"It's the grapes speaking, as usual.\"\n\n\"This is the first bottle I've touched since my head hit the ground last night,\" said Sylvanus. \" And for me, that's as sober as a babe freshly unwombed. No, gentlemen, I know a thing which you do not. Read any script in our common property and you'll find too many roles to which you're suited-soldiers, princes, lovers, fools. You could never play them all if you lived to twice my age, which is a frightful number." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"At twenty, you maybe anything. At thirty you may do as you please. At forty, only a few doors ease shut, but fifty, ah! Here's a sting that Moncraine feels for sure. By fifty, you're becoming a perfect stranger to all those parts that once suited you like the skin of your own cock.\"\n\nLocke had no idea what to say, so he simply watched as Sylvanus finished his bottle and tossed it into the leather-hard mud of the yard.\n\n\"I used to skim these plays for all the fine young roles my ambition could bear,\" he said. \"Now I look at the broken parts, the sick men, the forgotten men, and I wonder which of them will be mine. Did you not hear why I'm emperor? Because the emperor need not trouble his fat old ass to move. I am as much entombed as enthroned.\"\n\nSylvanus heaved himself to his feet, joints creaking. \"I don't mean to oppress your spirits, boys. Come find me in an hour or two, and I shall be merry. Yes, I will have quite forgotten anything I've said here, I'm sure.\"\n\nAfter Sylvanus had gone inside, Locke rose, stretched, and followed. He had no notion of what, if anything, he should say. In one short afternoon he had grown used to the advantage of having all of his lines scribbled out for him on apiece of paper." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"RIGHT,\" SAID Jasmer, three hours into their fifth day of practice under the unfriendly sun. \"Jovanno, I'm sure you're a fine fellow, but you've got no business saying lines in front of people. I think I can beat your friends into something resembling actors, but you're as useless as gloves on a snake.\"\n\n\"Uh,\" said Jean, looking up from his script, \"what'd I do wrong?\"\n\n\"If you had any wit for the work you'd already know,\" said Jasmer. \"Go sit the fuck down and count our money or something.\"\n\n\"Hang on,\" said Locke, who'd been playing Aurin to Jean's Ferrin. \"You've got no business talking to Jovanno like that.\"\n\n\"This is the business of the play,\" said Moncraine, \"and in this realm I am all the godson their heavenly thrones, speaking with one voice, telling him to shut up and go away.\"\n\n\"Agreed, you can order him around,\" said Locke. \"But mind your manners.\"\n\n\"Boy, I do not have fucking time-\"\n\n\"Yes you do,\" said Locke. \"You always have the time to be polite to Jovanno, and when you don't, we will pack up and go back to Camorr! Do I make myself clear?\"\n\n\"Hey,\" said Jean, tugging at Locke's tunic, \"it's fine.\"\n\n\"No it isn't,\" said Sabetha, joining Locke and Jean in the center of the courtyard. \"Lucaza's right, Jasmer. We'll slave for you as required, but we won't eat shit for no reason.\"\n\n\"Send me back to gaol,\" muttered Moncraine. \"Fuck me and send me back to gaol.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We shall accommodate neither request,\" said Sabetha.\n\n\"I can use him,\" said Jenora, appearing from the door to the inn. \"Jovanno, that is. If he's not going to be onstage he can help me manage the property and alchemy.\"\n\n\"I, uh, guess I've got... no real choice?\" said Jean.\n\n\"And speaking of the common property,\" said Jenora, \"I've got to tell you now, the mice and red moths have been at it. All the death-masks and robes are too scrubby to use, and most of the other costumes are only fit for cutting up as pieces.\"\n\n\"Well, then, do so,\" said Jasmer. \"I'm busy out here turning dogshit into diamonds; it's only fair you should get to do the same in your line of work.\"\n\n\"I need funds,\" said Jenora, \"and we must have a sit-down, all the stakeholders, and decide where those funds are coming from, and how to address the shares of our friends that cut and ran-\"\n\n\"Good gods,\" said Moncraine.\n\n\"... and on what terms! And I need to hire someone who can handle a needle and thread.\" Jean raised his hand.\n\n\"You can sew?\" said Jenora. \"What, mending torn tunics and so forth? I need-\"\n\n\"I know hemming from pleating,\" said Jean. \"And darning from shirring, and I've got the thimble-calluses to prove it.\"\n\n\"I'll be damned.\" Jenora grabbed Jean by the arm. \"You can't have this one back even if you decide you do need another actor.\"\n\n\"I won't,\" said Moncraine sourly." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Are we taking a break?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "said Calo, sitting down hard.\n\n\"Sure, sit on your ass, sweetheart. Those of us still in condition will play for your amusement,\" said Galdo. He kicked dirt across his brother's breeches.\n\nCalo didn't even waste time on a dirty look. He lashed outwith his legs, hooked Galdo below the knees, and toppled him. Galdo rolled over on his back, clutching at his left wrist, and howled in pain.\n\n\"Oh, hell,\" said Calo, jumping back to his feet. \"Is it bad? I didn't mean to, honest-GNNNAKKKH!\"\n\nThis last extremely unpleasant sound was forced out of him by a kick from Galdo that terminated in Calo's groin.\n\n\"Nah, it feels fine,\" said Galdo. \"Just having a bit of acting practice.\"\n\nLocke, Jean, Alondo, Jenora, and Sabetha descended on the twins, separating them before Moncraine could get involved in the melee. What followed was a pandemonium of finger-pointing and hard words in which the intelligence, birth city, artistic capacity, work habits, skin color, dress sense, and personal honor of every participant were insulted at least once. Through it all the sun poured down relentless heat, and by the time relative order was restored Locke's head was swimming. He didn't notice that someone had come around the corner from the street until they cleared their throat loudly.\n\n\"How grand,\" said the newcomer, a tall woman of about thirty. She wore a tight gray tunic and baggy trousers, and she was of mixed Therin and dark-skinned parentage, though she was lighter than Jasmer or the Gloriano women. Her black curls were cut just above her ears, and she had the sort of cool self-composure that Locke associated with Camorri garristas. \"Jasmer, I'm impressed, but not really in the way I expected to be.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "As the writer's tale assistant, advance the plot.\nTags: fantasy, heist, theater\nAuthor: Scott Lynch\nTitle: The Republic of Thieves\nChapter: 158" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"THIS IS not how I had envisioned passing the small hours of the night,\" said Baroness Ezrintaim, now dressed in boots, lightweight skirt, dark jacket, and visible sword.\n\nLocke and Sabetha, still soot-grimed from fighting the fire, stood at nervous attention in one of Mistress Gloriano's rooms, appropriated fora private talk. It was after midnight. Constables and soldiers in equal number had the place sewn uptight, and the remnants of the Moncraine-Boulidazi Company under guard in the common room. Ezrintaim had been summoned by a watch commander when the identity of the charred corpse had become generally known.\n\nSabetha wore what Locke thought was an excellent expression of sorrow and resignation.\n\n\"Is it... are we so certain it's him?\" she said. \"The body was...\"\n\n\"The body was a lump of coal, girl, but we have the signet and the dagger. We know very well it's Gennaro lying out there. I realize it can't be easy for you.\" Ezrintaim rubbed her eyes. \"Still, it's reality, dead under a sheet.\"\n\n\"Let me help you look for Moncraine,\" said Locke, who'd decided that a show of belligerence was a good contrast to Sabetha's shock. \"Me and all my men. If I find the bastard-\"\n\n\"This isn't Camorr, and you are incognito,\" snapped the baroness. \"You've no right to bear arms or dispense justice, and I've no inclination to give you authority I'd have to explain to someone else!\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, my lady,\" said Locke. \"I only meant to offer all possible assistance.\"\n\n\"The best assistance will be to follow my explicit directions,\" said Ezrintaim. \"Jasmer Moncraine has murdered an Esparan peer, and he is an Esparan problem to pursue. Gods and saints, this is going to be a ten-years'wonder even if it doesn't get any worse.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She paced the room several times, staring at them.\n\n\"I expect you to leave the city,\" she said at last. \"Yes, I think that would be for the best. I'll secure your safe passage out and have you placed with a caravan. You're welcome to return to Espara as your proper selves, after a few years have passed, but never again as players. Or any other low station!\"\n\n\"Thank you, my lady,\" said Locke.\n\n\"And what of the Moncraine-Boulidazi Company?\" said Sabetha.\n\n\"What do you expect, Verena? Boulidazi is dead and Moncraine might as well be. There'll be no more performances, of course. Everything with Moncraine's stink on it will need to be swept under a rug.\"\n\n\"I meant the players,\" said Sabetha. \"They've been... most accommodating. That bastard Moncraine has put them in a very difficult position.\"\n\n\"It's the difficult position of Gennaro Boulidazi that will most concern the countess,\" said Ezrintaim. \"But as far as I'm concerned, Moncraine's guilt blazes to the skies. As long as their stories are consistent and my men don't find anything interesting in this rooming house, your associates will live. But the company will be broken up, have no doubt.\"\n\n\"Most will end up in chains for debt once the solicitors have finished holding their feet to the fire,\" said Sabetha.\n\n\"What's it tome, my dear?\"\n\n\"They have given us good service while we've been in Espara,\" said Locke. \"We feel obligated to plead on their behalf.\"\n\n\"I see.\" Ezrintaim sighed and tapped her fingers against the hilt of her rapier. \"Well, Lord Boulidazi died without heir. No relations beyond Espara that we're bound to respect, either. So the countess will absorb his estates and his countinghouse assets. They're a pretty enough windfall. I suppose my mistress can afford to be generous. The company will absolutely lose its name and its present operating charter, but I believe I can intercede to shield them from anything more drastic. I do hope that will assuage your sense of obligation.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Entirely, my lady,\" said Sabetha, bowing her head.\n\n\"Good. You've been foolish and lucky in equal measure, Verena, and I hope you'll remember that you've benefited much from a series of diplomatic courtesies extended on behalf of all Espara.\"\n\n\"Within the family,\" said Locke, \"we'll be absolutely forthright about your invaluable assistance. Given the chance, we shall remember you to the duke.\"\n\n\"That would be a pleasing gesture,\" said Ezrintaim. \"Now, do clean yourselves up and make ready to leave my city so I can begin dealing with this damnable collection of headaches.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "DARK CLOUDS WERE rolling in from the north, masking the stars. The Karthenium, palace of the long-deposed dukes and duchesses of Karthain, rose above the manicured gardens and broken walls of the Casta Gravina, a dome of rippling jade Elderglass like a jewel in a setting of human stone and mortar. The late-autumn wind flowed past crenellations and etchings on the face of the glass, and the eerie music of a lost race sighed into the night, its meaning unguessable.\n\nGreen and black banners fluttered at the edges of every path and courtyard, and a river of torch and lantern light flowed through the gates of the Karthenium, into the Grand Salon, where seemingly endless black iron stairs and walkways spiraled up the underside of the jade dome. Chandeliers the size of carriages blazed, tended by men and women dangling in harness from anchor points on the walkways.\n\nThe murmur of the crowd was like the wash and rumble of the sea within a coastal cave. Locke and Jean moved warily through the affair, their green ribbons no protection against being jostled by knots of conversationalists, enthusiasts, and drunks. Black Iris and Deep Roots supporters mingled freely and argued freely in a sprawling pageant of Karthain's rich and exalted.\n\nIn the center of the Grand Salon a raised platform held a number of slate boards and nineteen black iron posts, each topped by an unlit frosted glass lamp. The stairs to the platform were guarded by bluecoats, each sweating under the added weight of a white cloak and mantle trimmed with silver ribbons.\n\nIt was the ninth hour of the evening. The last ballots had been cast hours before, and now the verified and sealed reports from each district were on their way to the Karthenium." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Master Lazari!" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Master Callas!\" Damned Superstition Dexa appeared, dragging a muddled platoon of attendants and sycophants in her wake. Her triple-brimmed hat was topped with a replica of one of Karthain's Eldren bridges, the towers sculpted from hardened leather, each one flying a tiny green flag. Dexa smoked from a double-bowled pipe, puffing streams of gray-and-emerald smoke from her nose. \"Well, my boys, once we've gnawed all the meat off the bones of an election it all comes down to this! Count the votes, then count the tears.\"\n\n\"No tears in your district,\" said Locke. \"If I'm wrong I'll buy a hat like yours and eat it.\"\n\n\"I'd like to see that. But I'd prefer to keep my seat.\" Dexa exhaled streamers of jasmine-scented green and spicy gray past Locke. \"Will you gentlemen be near the stage? Ringside seats as the returns come in?\"\n\n\"Somewhere less hectic,\" said Locke. \"We'll watch from one of the private galleries, after we've had a spin around the floor. Got to make sure everyone's got their spine straight and their waistcoat buttoned.\"\n\n\"Very fatherly of you. Well, then, until the cat's skinned, my regards to our fellow travelers.\"\n\nTrue to Locke's word, he and Jean bounced around the crowd, shaking hands and patting backs, laughing at bad jokes and offering some of their own, spouting reasoned and logical-sounding analysis on demand. Most of it was bullshit fried in glibness with aside of whatever the listener yearned to hear. What does it matter? thought Locke. One way or another, they were vanishing from Karthain's political scene tonight and would never beheld accountable." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Vast basins of punch made from pale white and bruise-purple wines were being stirred to foam by clockwork paddle mechanisms, operated by impeccably dressed children walking slowly inside gilded treadwheels. Attractive attendants of both sexes worked behind velvet ropes to fill goblets and hand them out. Locke and Jean armed themselves with punch, along with steaming buns stuffed with brined pork and dark vinegar sauce.\n\nJean spotted Nikoros hovering miserably on the periphery of a pack of Deep Roots notables and pointed him out to Locke. Via Lupa had shaved, which mostly served to highlight his unhealthy pallor and the fresh lines on his visibly leaner face. Unexpected pity stung Locke's heart. Here was no triumphant traitor, but someone thoroughly roasted on the rack of misery.\n\nWell, what was the use of being able to lie with impunity if you couldn't use it to take a weight off the shoulders of such a plainly unhappy bastard?\n\n\"Look, Nikoros,\" said Locke, pressing his untouched goblet of punch into the Karthani's hand. He spoke softly, for Nikoros alone. \"I think it's time for me to say that I know what it's like, being pressed by something that rules your conscience against your will.\"\n\n\"Ah, M-master Lazari, I don't... that is, what do you mean?\"\n\n\"What I'm trying to tell you,\" said Locke, \"is that I know. And I have known for sometime.\"\n\n\"You... know?\" Nikoros' eyebrows went up so far and fast Locke was surprised not to see them go sailing off like catapult stones. \"You knew?\"\n\n\"Of course I did,\" said Locke, soothingly. \"It's my job to know things, isn't it? Only thing I couldn't figure out is what the lever was. It's obvious that you're not exactly a willing turncoat.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Gods! I, uh, it was my alchemist. My... dust alchemist. Receiving it's as bad as selling it. I got caught, and this woman... well, I eventually f-figured out who she must be. I'm sorry. She offered me a deal. Otherwise I lose everything. Ten years on a penance barge, then exile.\"\n\n\"Hell of a thing,\" said Locke. \"I'd try to avoid that too, if I could.\"\n\n\"I'll resign after tonight,\" muttered Nikoros. \"I'd wager I've, ah, done more damage to the Deep Roots than any committee member in our g-gods-damned history.\"\n\n\"Nikoros, you haven't been listening tome,\" said Locke. \"I told you I knew.\"\n\n\"But how does that-\"\n\n\"You've been my agent more than theirs. Delivering exactly what I wanted the Black Iris to hear from a source they considered impeccable.\"\n\n\"But... but I'm certain some of what I had to give them was... it was real, and it was damaging to us!\"\n\n\"Naturally,\" said Locke. \"They wouldn't have listened to you if you hadn't delivered real goods most of the time. I wrote the real stuff off as the price of feeding them the crucial bullshit. So don't resign a damn thing. If the Black Iris lose tonight, it's because you were in a position to serve as my weapon against them. Will that help you sleep a little better at night?\"\n\n\"I, uh, I hardly know what I should say.\" The loosening of the lines of tension on his face was immediate and obvious.\n\n\"Don't say anything. Just drain that goblet and enjoy the show. This conversation will stay our little secret. Have a good long life, Nikoros. I doubt you'll ever see us again.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Unless our employers want to bring us back for the next round, five years hence,\" muttered Jean as they walked away.\n\n\"Maybe if they all want to end up in a fucking coma like the shit-bucket with the bird,\" said Locke.\n\n\"And not that I'm against trying to settle the poor fellow down, but how do you think Nikoros will feel about himself if the Black Iris win?\"\n\n\"Gods damn it, I was just trying to do what I could for the wretched bastard. At least now he can believe I chose to use him as a calculated risk. Come on; let's find this Sable Chamber and get out of the public eye.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "SIX STAIRCASES and three conversations with only partially helpful attendants later, they found Sabetha waiting for them in a balcony room overlooking the south side of the Grand Salon. Some long-dead nobleman stared eerily from a wall fresco, gazing out at a scrollworked metal screen that allowed a fine view of the crowd and the stage below.\n\nSabetha wore another ensemble more in the fashion of a riding outfit than a ballgown, a tight red velvet jacket with slashed sleeves over a dress of black silk panels embroidered in scarlet astronomical signs. Locke pieced them together in his head and realized she was wearing a sunrise and moonrise chart for this very day, month, and calendar year.\n\n\"Like it?\" she said, spreading her arms. \"In accordance with the instructions of my principals, I did my bit to spend every last copper they gave me.\"\n\n\"Dutiful to authority, that's you every time,\" said Locke. She offered her hand, and he wasn't shy in kissing it. The trio made themselves comfortable at a little table provisioned with almond cakes, brandy, and four red crystal snifters. Locke took the lead and seized the bottle.\n\n\"A glass poured to air for absent friends,\" he said as he filled the fourth snifter and pushed it aside. \"May the lessons they taught us give everyone a hell of a show tonight.\"\n\n\"Here's to living long enough to appreciate whatever happens,\" said Jean.\n\n\"Here's to politics,\" said Sabetha. \"Let's never hop in bed with it again.\"\n\nThey touched glasses and drank. The stuff had a pale caramel color and washed Locke's throat with sweet, welcome heat. Not an alchemical brandy, but one of the old-fashioned western styles with hints of peach and walnut woven into its vapors." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Here comes the verdict,\" said Sabetha.\n\nDown on the floor the crowd parted fora troop of bluecoats, escorting somberly dressed officials carrying wooden chests and huge brass speaking trumpets like blossoming tulips. These trumpets were secured to projections on the stage, and the wooden chests were set down behind them. A petite woman with thick gray curls cut short at the neck stepped up to one of the speaking trumpets.\n\n\"First Magistrate Sedelkis,\" said Sabetha. \"Arbiter of the Change. Come election season, she's like a temporary fourteenth god.\"\n\n\"No representative from the magi?\" said Locke. \"They don't even send a plate of fruit and a kind note?\"\n\n\"I understand they vouchsafe this ceremony,\" said Sabetha, \"so gods help anyone who tries to adjust the tallies. But they'll never let themselves be seen.\"\n\n\"Not unless they're somewhere private with a target for abuse,\" said Locke.\n\nOn the platform below, some attendants unlocked the chests, while others took positions near the slate boards.\n\n\"Fellow citizens,\" boomed First Magistrate Sedelkis, \"honorable Konseil members, and officers of the republic, welcome. I have the honor of closing the seventy-ninth season of elections in the Republic of Karthain by reading the results into the public record. The returns by district, commencing with Isas Thedra.\"\n\nAn attendant took an envelope from one of the chests. Sedelkis tore it open and pulled out a parchment embossed with seals and ribbons.\n\n\"By the count of one hundred and fifteen to sixty, Firstson Epitalus of the Deep Roots party.\"\n\nLoud applause erupted from half the population of the Grand Salon. One attendant chalked the official numbers on aboard, while others lit a green-glowing candle and used along pole to place it beneath the first frosted glass globe." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Do you wish to concede, madam?\" said Locke.\n\n\"I think that one was one of the foregone conclusions,\" said Sabetha.\n\n\"Damn,\" said Locke. \"She's too clever for us.\"\n\n\"For the Isle of Hammers, by the count of two hundred and thirty-five to one hundred,\" announced Sedelkis, \"Fourthdaughter Du-Lerian, for the Black Iris party.\"\n\nThe attendants lit and placed another candle, one that gave off a purple-blue light so dark it was a fair approximation of black.\n\n\"Well, how now?\" said Sabetha, pouring afresh round of drinks. \"Nothing pithy to say?\"\n\n\"I would never dream of pithing in front of you,\" said Locke.\n\nSeven green lights and four black lights blazed by the time Sedelkis announced, \"For the Bursadi District, by the count of one hundred and forty-six to one hundred and twenty-two, Secondson Lovaris of the Black Iris party.\"\n\nJean sighed theatrically.\n\n\"That poor man,\" said Sabetha. \"So nearly victimized by unscrupulous relic thieves.\"\n\n\"We rejoice at his deliverance,\" said Locke.\n\n\"For the Plaza Gandolo,\" boomed Sedelkis, \"by the count of eighty-one to sixty-five, Seconddaughter Viracois of the Black Iris party.\"\n\n\"Oh, Perelandro's balls, we filled her house with stolen goods!\" said Jean. \"She was charged with eleven counts of housebreak or receiving! What possible grease could you apply to that?\"\n\n\"I came up with a story that Viracois was secretly sheltering a distant cousin,\" said Sabetha. \"And that this cousin was severely touched in the head. Had areal mania for stealing things. Even hired an actress to play the role fora few days. I had Viracois circulate to apologize personally for the fact that her \"cousin\" had managed to slip away from supervision, and once all the stolen goods were identified and returned, all those sympathetic people quietly rescinded their charges. And discreetly talked to their friends and neighbors, of course.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Rescinded charges.\" Locke shook his head. \"No bloody wonder paying off the magistrate didn't get us anything.\"\n\n\"For the Isas Mellia,\" announced Sedelkis, \"by the count of seventy-five to thirty-one, Damned Superstition Dexa of the Deep Roots party.\"\n\n\"Didn't even bother much with that one,\" said Sabetha.\n\n\"Well, you did try to bribe her cook,\" said Locke. \"And her doorman. And her footmen. And her solicitor. And her carriage driver. And her tobacconist.\"\n\n\"I succeeded in bribing the doorman,\" said Sabetha. \"I just couldn't find anything constructive to do with him.\"\n\n\"At least I won't have to eat a hat,\" Locke whispered to Jean.\n\n\"For the Silverchase,\" announced Sedelkis, \"by the count of one hundred and eight to sixty-seven, Light-of-the-Amathel Azalon of the Deep Roots party.\"\n\nThat was the last green candle to be lit fora longtime, however. The next three blazed black, bringing the total to nine and nine.\n\n\"It's all theater in the end, isn't it?\" said Sabetha. The brandy had brought color to her cheeks. \"All our running around in costumes, saying our lines. Now the chorus comes out onstage to recite the moral and send the audience home.\"\n\n\"Half of them are about to wish they had some fruit to throw,\" said Jean.\n\n\"Shhh, here it comes,\" said Sabetha.\n\n\"The final report,\" announced Sedelkis, opening the envelope with a flourish. \"For the Palanta District, by the count of one hundred and seventy to one hundred and fifty-two, Thirdson Jovindus of the Black Iris party!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The last lamp flared with dark light." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "CONSTERNATION ERUPTED on the floor, shouts of joy mingling with accusations, cries of disbelief, and insults.\n\nSabetha folded her arms, leaned back in her chair, and adopted a wide, genuine smile.\n\n\"You boys gave me a closer run than I expected,\" she said. \"And I did have the advantage of getting here first.\"\n\n\"That's a gracious admission,\" said Jean.\n\n\"Your gimmick with Lovaris would have been magnificent fun to watch,\" said Sabetha. \"I'm almost sad I had to put my foot down on it.\"\n\n\"I'm not,\" said Locke.\n\n\"ORDER,\" cried First Magistrate Sedelkis. \"ORDER!\" The cloaked bluecoats surrounding the stage drove their staves rhythmically against the ground until the crowd heeded Sedelkis.\n\n\"All districts having reported, I hereby declare these results rightful and valid. Karthain has a Konseil. Gods bless the Presence. Gods bless the Republic of Karthain!\"\n\n\"First Magistrate,\" came a voice from the crowd, \"I beg a moment of stage time to amend the record in one small respect.\"\n\n\"Oh, what in all the hells...\" said Sabetha.\n\nThe speaker was Lovaris, who separated himself from a group of happy Black Iris notables, pushed through the cordon of bluecoats around the stage, and took a place beside Sedelkis at a speaking trumpet.\n\n\"Dear friends and fellow citizens,\" he said, while beckoning for one of the glass globe attendants to approach him. \"I am Secondson Lovaris, often called Perspicacity, an honor I cherish. For twenty years I have represented the Bursadi District as an enthusiastic member of the Black Iris party. However, of late, I must confess that enthusiasm has been dimmed by circumstances beyond my control. I grieve that I must discuss this in public. I grieve that I must take corrective action in public.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Is anyone else at this table hallucinating right now?\" said Sabetha.\n\n\"If we are, we're sharing a lovely fever dream,\" said Locke. \"Let's see how it ends!\"\n\n\"I grieve, most of all,\" continued Lovaris, \"that I must announce my reluctant but immediate withdrawal from the Black Iris party. I will no longer wear their symbols or attend their party functions.\"\n\n\"Gods above, are you actually resigning from the Konseil?\" shouted someone in the crowd.\n\n\"Of course not,\" shouted Lovaris. \"I said nothing about resigning my Konseil seat! I am the Bursadi Konseillor, validly and rightfully elected, as the First Magistrate just announced.\"\n\n\"Turncoat!\" shouted a man that Locke recognized as Thirdson Jovindus. \"You ran under false pretenses! Your election must be nullified in favor of your second!\"\n\n\"We elect men and women in Karthain,\" said Lovaris, and it was clear from his voice that he was speaking through a smirk that would have injured a lesser man with its intensity. \"Those men and women declare party affiliations only as a matter of their own convenience. I am not bound to surrender anything. My honorable associate should more closely examine the relevant laws. Now, allow me to finish describing the new situation!\"\n\nLovaris took a pole from the attendant he'd beckoned, then used it to extinguish and dislodge the candle from the middle-most black globe. One blank white glass was left in the midst of nine black and nine green.\n\n\"Simply because I have left the Black Iris does not mean that I have necessarily embraced any of the positions of the Deep Roots. I am declaring myself a party of one, fully independent, a neutral balance between Karthain's traditional ideologies. I am fully willing to be convinced to any reasonable course of action in the Konseil. Indeed, I remind my esteemed colleagues that my door is ever open for your approaches and entreaties. I shall very much look forward to receiving them. Good evening!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "What followed could only be described as the crescendoing clusterfuck of the Karthani social season, as half the Konseillors of the Black Iris party, technically immune to constabulary restraint, attempted to storm the stage through a wall of bluecoats who could neither hurt them nor allow them to hurt Lovaris. First Magistrate Sedelkis demonstrated the co-equality of the Karthani judiciary by kicking a Black Iris Konseillor in the teeth, which brought even Deep Roots Konseillors into the fray to uphold the privileges of their station. Bluecoat messengers raced off to find reinforcements, while most of the noncombatant spectators refilled their goblets of punch and settled into watch their government inaction.\n\n\"I don't believe it,\" said Sabetha. \"How the hell... I've got no more succinct way to put it. How the hell?\"\n\n\"You warned Lovaris we were coming to try and convince him to change the color of his lapel ribbon,\" said Locke. \"And you know he didn't buy that offer for an instant. He chewed on myself-respect fora while, then wiped me away like a turd.\"\n\n\"But we'd already prepared a second line of attack,\" said Jean, pouring himself afresh finger of brandy. \"Ego-fodder. Something designed to appeal to his sense that he ought to be the hinge around which the rest of the world turned.\"\n\n\"Catnip for an asshole,\" continued Locke. \"Jean offered the second approach, on the theory that Lovaris might be more willing to parley seriously with an envoy he hadn't just pissed allover. Turned out to be a good guess.\"\n\n\"And now Lovaris is the most important man in Karthain,\" whispered Sabetha. \"Now any deadlock in Konseil is going to have to be resolved by his vote!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"A possibility he found quite stimulating." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The other Konseillors might detest his guts,\" said Locke, \"but they will beat his door, hats in hand, for the next five years, or until he's assassinated. Hardly our problem either way.\"\n\n\"And that's all it took? A friendly suggestion?\"\n\n\"Well, obviously, he agreed to go through with it only if the numbers added up,\" said Locke. \"If you'd had a wider margin of victory, he would have stayed silent. And there was one hell of a bribe to sweeten the deal.\"\n\n\"He settled for twenty-five thousand ducats,\" said Jean.\n\n\"How does he expect to hide it?\" said Sabetha. \"The Black Iris are going to rake him over the coals! His countinghouse will be watched, his business dealings will be dissected, any fresh property that turns up will be beaten like a dusty carpet for clues!\"\n\n\"Hiding it's not the issue,\" said Locke, \"since you already safely delivered it to him for us.\"\n\nSabetha stared at him fora moment, then whispered, \"The reliquary boxes!\"\n\n\"I quietly boiled twenty-five thousand ducats down to precious stones, mostly emeralds and Spider's Eye Pearls,\" said Jean. \"A lightweight cargo to stash in the bottom of the drawers. Your constables were much more squeamish about digging through the dust and bones of Lovaris\" forebears than he was.\"\n\n\"I'd thought you'd taken them to hold hostage for his cooperation,\" said Sabetha.\n\n\"It was the sensible conclusion,\" said Locke. \"We didn't feel comfortable hauling a fat bribe to his manor ourselves; too much of a chance someone in your pay would notice us. Maybe even someone working for his household.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Try about half his household,\" said Sabetha. \"So you needed that treasure delivered to Lovaris, and you fed me its location on that boat... gods! How long had you known I had Nikoros under my thumb?\"\n\n\"We found out nearly too late,\" said Locke. \"Just about everything he gave you before the boat was legitimately at our expense.\"\n\n\"Hmmm. To give him the word on the boat...\" She rubbed her temples. \"Ah! That alchemical store I relieved you of in the Vel Vespala-that tip came from Nikoros. You... you must have given everyone you suspected word of some different juicy target!\"\n\n\"And the target you stepped on told us who the leak was,\" said Locke, grinning. \"You have it exactly.\"\n\n\"You impossible assholes!\" Sabetha leapt up, moved around the table, pulled Locke and Jean from their chairs, and threw an arm around each of them, laughing. \"Oh, you two are such insufferable weaselly shits, it's marvelous!\"\n\n\"You weren't so bad yourself,\" said Jean. \"But for the grace of the gods, we might still be cruising the Amathel.\"\n\n\"So what have we done?\" said Sabetha, her voice full of honest wonderment. \"What have we done? I suppose I won the election, but... I'm not sure if winning it for about thirty seconds is winning it at all.\"\n\n\"Just as I'm not sure that nudging a victory into a tie is really the same as winning for our side,\" said Locke. \"Nor is it quite losing. A pretty mess, isn't it? One for the drunkards and philosophers.\"\n\n\"I wonder what the magi are going to say.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I hope they argue about it from now until the sun grows cold,\" said Locke." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We did our bit, we fought sincerely, we perverted the final results just enough to eternally confuse anyone watching-what more could they possibly want?\"\n\n\"I suppose we find out now,\" said Jean.\n\n\"Did... Patience give you any instructions or hints about what to do once the ballots were counted?\" said Sabetha. \"Not a word,\" said Locke.\n\n\"Then why don't we all get the hell out of here and let our employers find us in their own time?\" Sabetha tossed back the last of her brandy. \"I've got a safe house just off the Court of Dust. Rented it fora month, had firewood, linens, and wine laid in. I'd say it's as comfortable a place as any to rest and figure out what we're going to... do next.\" She ran her fingers lightly over Locke's left arm.\n\n\"Any plan to sneak us out of here without getting swept up in a brawl?\" said Jean.\n\n\"New skins.\" Sabetha produced a scalpel-thin dagger from somewhere in a jacket sleeve and used it to slit one of three paper parcels stacked beneath the chamber's unnerving fresco. \"Much as I hate to take this dress off display, I thought we'd find our exit that much easier if we dressed like the enemy.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "AT THE tenth hour of the evening, a trio of bluecoats pushed through the curious crowds at the main entrance to the Karthenium; a slender watchman and a sturdy watchman, led by a woman with sergeant's pins on her lapels. They disposed of the last few people standing in their way with a combination of shoves and ominous mutterings about official business.\n\nLocke and Jean followed Sabetha about fifty yards west, to a branching side court where a carriage waited. The night had darkened considerably, and as he opened the carriage door Locke's eye was caught by an orange glare somewhere to the south.\n\n\"Looks like afire,\" he said. The conflagration rippled, gilding the shadowy buildings of what must have been the Palanta District with its light.\n\n\"Damned big one,\" said Jean. \"I hope it's nothing to do with the election. Maybe these Karthani play harder than I ever gave them credit for.\"\n\n\"Come on, you two, let's not linger long enough to get noticed by anyone who might outrank us,\" said Sabetha.\n\nThey all clambered into the carriage together. The driver, obedient to whatever orders Sabetha had given her earlier, shook the reins, and they were off, leaving the results of their tampering with Karthain's electoral process behind them. Genuine bluecoats were still arriving in force, truncheons and shields drawn, as the carriage rattled over the paving stones, away from the Karthenium." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"THE FIRST MAGISTRATE has just read the final district report,\" says one of the young men, his voice dreamy, his eyes unfocused. Coldmarrow knows from long experience that the more tenuous and subtle mind-to-mind connections are the most demanding to sustain. Any damned fool can blaze their thoughts into the night for magi far and wide to receive like buzzing insects. The intelligence network now flashing thoughts across the city is straining itself to be utterly silent.\n\n\"The last district is Black Iris...\" whispers the young mage.\n\n\"Black Iris victory,\" says someone else. \"By the skin of their teeth.\"\n\n\"It seems that Patience's vaunted Camorri were no match for ours,\" smirks Archedama Foresight. She wears a leather hood and mantle, a dark linen mask, a mail-reinforced cuirass. Like all the men and women in the second-floor solar of Coldmarrow's Palanta District house, she is dressed fora fight. \"We'll deal with them last, after all the other satisfactions of the evening have been dispensed with.\"\n\n\"Necessities, let us rather say,\" coughs Coldmarrow, taking deep, steady breaths to help rule his anxiety. The air is close, and it smells of all these magi, their robes and leathers, the wine on their breaths, the oils in their hair, their nervous, excited sweat.\n\n\"Why not both?\" says the archedama.\n\n\"There's a disturbance at the Karthenium,\" whispers the young man who has been reporting on the election. \"Someone... Lovaris of the Bursadi District. Some sort of announcement. He maybe... ha! He maybe switching sides!\"\n\n\"Damn,\" says Archedama Foresight. \"But it seems tome that there's no time like the present. All our targets must be absorbed in the distraction.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Oh, they are,\" chuckles Coldmarrow." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It couldn't be working better. Are your people in their proper positions?\"\n\n\"All of them,\" says Foresight.\n\n\"Then here's to necessity,\" says Coldmarrow, his mouth suddenly dry. \"And to the future of all our kind.\"\n\nColdmarrow speaks a word.\n\nThe word becomes fire.\n\nA spark flashes in the dark heart of ajar of fire-oil, one of a hundred, tightly sealed, placed in the space beneath the floor of the room a month before. This jar is half-full, containing just enough air for the flame to breathe the vapors of the oil. The explosion is white-hot, shattering the clay vessels, sucking air and oil into the roaring, all-devouring blast.\n\nNot even magi can move faster than this, or protect themselves with so little warning. The floor moves beneath Coldmarrow's feet, then comes sharp dark heat, stunning pressure, and sudden silence. Coldmarrow dies taking fourteen magi with him, including Archedama Foresight. He has no time to feel either regret or satisfaction; it will simply have to be enough.\n\nThe war lasts nine minutes. It is utterly one-sided, the only possible war magi can wage with any hope of total victory against others trained in the same traditions, to the same standards.\n\nArchedama Foresight's people discover that their own ambush is stillborn, their positions ready-made traps. They have always been outnumbered by the larger faction of magi they derided as meek, and now those opponents apply their numbers to disproving the slander.\n\nNo quarter is given, no fair fight allowed. Strength is brought against weakness. Across rooftops, within lamp-lit gardens, inside the halls of the Isas Scholastica and the private homes of sorcerers, the assault is quick and silent and absolute." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As the tipsy, confused politicians of Karthain clamber over one another in a comical brawl at the heart of the Karthenium, seventy magi die in the dark places of the city, taking only a handful of their killers with them.\n\nNavigator finds Patience alone in the Sky Chamber, staring at the bowl of the artificial heavens, currently mirroring the actual sky over Karthain, the rolling dark clouds summoned to lock the light of moons and stars away. Shadow has been drawn over the city like a cloak, to better hide the evidence.\n\n\"It's over,\" says Patience. She speaks real words to the air; the silver threads of thought-speech have unraveled unpleasantly across Karthain; cries of pain and betrayal, cries for help that will never come, and Patience has hardened her mind against most of the noise. \"Now we have to live with ourselves.\"\n\n\"Tell our troubles to the shades of Therim Pel,\" says the one-armed woman. She wipes a tear from her cheek.\n\n\"We are each one in a thousand thousand,\" says Patience. \"We have destroyed some of the rarest and most precious things in the world tonight. Our distant inheritors may curse us for what we've done.\"\n\n\"We already deserve their curses, Archedama.\"\n\n\"So long as there's still a world left for them to curse us in. Come now; help me do it.\"\n\nThe two women bow their heads, move their hands in perfect concert, and speak words of unweaving that tear at their throats like desert air. The beautiful conjured heavens of the Sky Chamber fade like the memory of a dream, until there is nothing but a dome of plain white stones, grayed with the patina of old smoke." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Do you wish to see your son now?\" says Navigator.\n\n\"No,\" says Patience, suddenly feeling everyone of her years, suddenly wishing for the touch and the laugh of a man who was taken by the Amathel half her lifetime ago. \"I'll speak to Lamora first. But for now I want to be alone fora while.\"\n\nNavigator nods and quietly withdraws, leaving Patience alone in the silent vastness of a room that will never be used again.\n\nOne final duty remains at the end of this long campaign, and Patience does not yet have the heart to face it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "THE REMAINS OF Gennaro Boulidazi, last of his line, were taken away under his family colors. An apoplectic Brego did most of the work, after being rebuked for his panic and disbelief by Baroness Ezrintaim. She did, however, graciously assign a number of constables to serve as an honor guard.\n\nIt was the middle of the night before all the constables and soldiers decamped from within Gloriano's Rooms, chasing off the small crowd of locals and curiosity-seekers as they went. Baroness Ezrintaim left only a small guard posted outside, their orders to preserve the peace for the'nobles\" spending their last night in Espara within.\n\nJean and Jenora went off together early, to spend that night as they saw fit. The Sanzas, seemingly reluctant to let one another out of their sight, claimed a corner of the main room and drank with Alondo and Donker-not the boisterous drinking of celebration but the quiet ritual of people relieved to still have throats to pour their ale down.\n\nBert and Chantal fell asleep on one another, wrapped up together in an old cloak. Mistress Gloriano promised Locke she would wake them eventually and pack them off to a proper room. She and Sylvanus then sat together, working on a ribbon-wrapped bottle of some expensive brandy whose existence had never previously been mentioned to the thirsty ingrates pounding her bar for service.\n\nSabetha was clear and to the point, without words. She found Locke bound up in his thoughts in the main room and dispelled them with a hand on his shoulder. She glanced at the stairs byway of a question, and when he nodded, her smile made him feel something even the cheers of eight hundred strangers hadn't been able to." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They commandeered an empty chamber. Sabetha used the room's only chair to wedge the door shut and admired her handiwork with grim satisfaction.\n\nThey were tired, the smell of smoke was nestled deep in their hair, and the last thing they needed was more sweat without a bath, but neither of them cared. They were at home in the darkness in away that only the survivors of places like Shades'Hill could understand, and alive to one another's lips and hands as they had never been before. They were still shy, still awkward and unschooled. But if their first night together had been confusing and incomplete, their second... ah, their second taught them why people keep trying." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "THE SMELL OF her, the taste of her. Locke awoke in darkness, still awash in those things. His sweat, their sweat, had cooled and dried on his skin, and the bed... he ran his hands over her side of it and found it empty, the blanket thrown back.\n\nHe remembered where he was. The upper room of Sabetha's house off the Court of Dust, the one with the expensively luxurious mattress and the Lashani silk sheets. He couldn't have been asleep for long.\n\nThere was someone in the darkness, watching him, and he knew in an instant it wasn't Sabetha, knew with every fiber of his intuition who it must be, standing by the faint gray cracks of light at the window.\n\n\"What have you done?\" he whispered.\n\n\"We spoke,\" said Patience. \"I showed her something.\"\n\nSoft silver light filled the room-the cold alchemical globes, in response to a mere gesture of Patience's. Locke saw her hands moving as his eyes adjusted, saw that she wore a heavy traveler's cloak with the hood thrown back.\n\n\"Where's Jean?\"\n\n\"Downstairs, where you left him,\" said Patience. \"He'll awaken soon. Do you want to get dressed, or are you comfortable speaking like this?\"\n\nThe cold Locke felt had little to do with the mere fact that he was naked. He slid from the bed, not caring that he concealed nothing from Patience, and dressed in what he could only hope, ludicrously, was somehow an insolent fashion. He donned trousers and tunic like armor, threw a simple dark jacket on as though it could keep Patience and her words out.\n\nLocke saw that there was something leaning against the wall behind Patience, a flat rectangular object about three feet high, covered in a gray cloth." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"She tried to write you a note,\" said Patience. \"It was... beyond her. She left half an hour ago.\"\n\n\"What did you do to her, Patience?\"\n\n\"I did nothing.\" Her dark eyes caught him, seemed to pierce him. Those hunter's eyes. \"To my arts, Sabetha Belacoros is a puppet waiting fora hand, but it would have been meaningless, had I done anything. She had to choose. I gave her information that led to a choice.\"\n\n\"You utter bitch-\"\n\n\"I also saved your life tonight,\" she said. \"For the second and last time. This is our final conversation, Locke Lamora, if that's what you still choose to call yourself. I've come to render all dues and finish my business with you.\"\n\n\"Do you want to kill me yourself, at last?\"\n\n\"Certainly not.\"\n\n\"And... you mean to keep your word? Money and transportation to see us on our way?\"\n\n\"There's no money and no transportation,\" said Patience, laughing without humor. \"You'll receive nothing else from us. Your countinghouse contacts will no longer recognize you, and your Deep Roots associates already think of Sebastian Lazari as a gray ghost of a memory. Wherever you gentlemen choose to go next, I suspect you have along walk ahead of you.\"\n\n\"Why are you doing this to us?\" said Locke.\n\n\"The Falconer,\" she said.\n\n\"So revenge was the game after all,\" said Locke. \"Well, a creature like the Falconer deserved every second of hurt I ever gave him, and fuck you if you expect me to think otherwise!\"\n\n\"You can't understand what you took from him,\" said Patience, her words hot and thick with scorn. \"Your flesh is inert; magic is nothing more than the sound of the wind to you. You can never feel it, feel the words leaving you like fire, like arrows from a bowstring! To know that power welling beneath you and bearing you like a feather on a wind. You think I'm selfish for this? Cruel? It's less than you deserve! Killing him would have been mercy. I've killed magi. But you stole his hands and his voice. You took the tools of magic from him and smashed him like a priceless work of art. You stole his destiny. The archedama Patience could forgive you. The mother and the mage cannot.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I refer you to my former statement,\" said Locke, his voice trembling.\n\nA heavy tread sounded on the stairs. Jean burst into the room, slamming the door aside without knocking.\n\n\"I don't understand,\" he panted. \"I was just... You fucking did something tome again, didn't you?\"\n\n\"A brief slumber,\" said Patience. \"I wanted time with Sabetha, and then with Locke. But you might as well hear everything else I have to say.\"\n\n\"Where's Sabetha?\" said Jean.\n\n\"Alive,\" said Patience. \"And fled, of her own accord.\"\n\n\"Why do I-?\"\n\n\"You've got nothing more I want, Jean Tannen,\" said Patience. \"Interrupt me again and Locke leaves Karthain alone.\"\n\nJean balled his fists but remained silent.\n\n\"I'm leaving Karthain too,\" said Patience. \"Myself and all my kind. Tonight ends the last of the Five-Year Games, and our centuries of life here. Whenever the Karthani find the nerve to enter the Isas Scholastica, they'll find our buildings empty, our tunnels collapsed, our libraries and treasures vanished. We are removing all trace of ourselves from Karthain down to the dust under our beds.\"\n\n\"Why on the gods' earth would you do such a thing?\" said Locke.\n\n\"Karthain is the old dream,\" said Patience. \"It's served its purpose. We have gathered strength, honed our skills, and collected the wealth we need to do what we must. There will be no more contracts. No more Bondsmagi. We are retiring from the public life of this world. Never again can we allow such an institution as this to arise.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That... that danger you spoke of?\" said Locke, unnerved and startled by the magnitude of the changes Patience's words implied.\n\n\"There are things moving and dreaming in the darkness,\" said Patience. \"We refuse to risk any further chance of waking them up. Yet human magic must survive, so we must learn how to make it as quiet as possible.\"\n\n\"Why run us through this damned election?\" said Locke. \"Gods, why not just put us in a room and tell us this shit and save us all so much trouble?\"\n\n\"Wise members of my order a century ago,\" said Patience, \" foresaw our direction beyond a shadow of a doubt. We used our contracts to enrich ourselves, but they also made us arrogant. They fueled the impulse to dominate, to see our powers as limitless and the world as our clay.\n\n\"These wise men and women knew that a crisis would break, a time for blood, and the only way to win would be to achieve surprise. They envisioned a disruption of our ordinary lives so profound and yet so routine that it could conceal preparations fora fight when the time came. The Five-Year Games became a regular part of our society, a pageant and a release. But a few of us were always trusted with the original intention of the games, and the knowledge that we might have to employ it.\"\n\n\"So it was all just... a monumental misdirection?\" said Locke. \"While we danced for everyone's amusement, you sharpened your knife and stuck it in somebody's back?\"\n\n\"All those magi that I once described as exceptionalists,\" said Patience. \"All those brothers and sisters. I mourn them, even as I know there was no convincing them. They will stay in Karthain forever. The rest of us goon.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Why tell us any of this?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "said Jean.\n\n\"Because I value your discomfort.\" Patience smiled without warmth. \"I described the conditions of your employment very succinctly. We are not vanishing from the world, merely from the eyes of ordinary people. Share our business with anyone and you are always in our reach.\"\n\n\"Ordinary people,\" said Locke. \"Well, how ordinary am I, really? What's the truth of all the tales you spun about my past?\"\n\n\"You should look at the painting I brought for Sabetha.\" Patience tapped the wrapped object leaning against the wall behind her. \"I'm leaving it here, though in a day or two it will be nothing but white ash. It's the only portrait of Lamor Acanthus ever painted during his life. I ought to tell you, the likeness is impeccable.\"\n\n\"A simple answer!\" shouted Locke. \"What am I?\"\n\n\"You're a man who doesn't get to know the answer,\" said Patience, and now her smile was genuine. She was shaking with the obvious difficulty of containing her laughter. \"Look at you. Camorri! Confidence trickster! You think you know what revenge is? Well, here's mine on you. Before I was Archedama Patience, I was called Seamstress. Not because I enjoy needlework, but because I tailor to fit.\"\n\nLocke could only stare at her, feeling cold and hollow to the depths of his guts.\n\n\"Live a good long life without your answer,\" she said. \" I think you'll find the evidence neatly balanced in either direction. Now, one thing more will I tell you, and this only because I know it will haunt and disquiet you. My son preferred to mock my premonitions, but only because he didn't want to face the fact that they always have substance. I shall give you a little prophecy, Locke Lamora, as best as I have seen it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Three things must you take up and three things must you lose before you die: a key, a crown, a child.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Patience pushed her hood up over her head. \"You will die when a silver rainfalls.\"\n\n\"You're making all this shit up,\" said Locke.\n\n\"I could be,\" said Patience. \"I very well could be. And that's part of your punishment. Go forth now and live, Locke Lamora. Live, uncertain.\"\n\nShe gestured once and was gone." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "JEAN REMAINED at the door, staring at the gray-wrapped package. Finally, Locke worked up the nerve to seize it and tearaway the cover.\n\nIt was an oil painting. Locke stared at it for sometime, feeling the lines on his face draw taut as a bowstring, feeling moistness well in the corners of his eyes.\n\n\"Of course,\" he said. \"Of course. Lamor Acanthus. And wife, I presume.\"\n\nHe made a noise that was half dour laugh and half strangled sob, and threw the painting on the bed. The black-robed man in the portrait looked nothing like Locke; he was broad-shouldered, with the classically dark, sharp aspect of a Therin Throne patrician. The woman beside him bore the same sort of haughty glamour, down to her bones, but she was much fairer of skin.\n\nHer thick, flowing hair was as red as fresh blood.\n\n\"I'm everything Sabetha was afraid of,\" said Locke. \"Tailored to fit.\"\n\n\"I'm... I'm sorry as hell I got you into this,\" said Jean.\n\n\"Shit! Don't go wobbly on me now, Jean. I was as good as dead, and the only way out of this was to go through, all the way to Patience's endgame. Now she's played it.\"\n\n\"We can go after Sabetha,\" said Jean. \"She's had half an hour, how far could she get?\"\n\n\"I want to,\" said Locke, wiping his eyes. \"Gods, I can still smell her everywhere in this room. And gods, I want her back.\" He slumped onto the bed. \"But I... I promised to trust her. I promised to... respect her decisions, no matter how much it fucking cut me. If she has to run from this, if she has to be away from me, then for as long as she needs, I'll... I'll accept it. If she wants to find me again, what could stop her?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jean put his hands on Locke's shoulders and bowed his head in thought.\n\n\"You're gonna be fucking miserable to live with fora couple of weeks,\" he said at last.\n\n\"Probably,\" said Locke with a rueful chuckle. \"I'm sorry.\"\n\n\"Well, we should case this place and pack everything useful we can lay our hands on,\" said Jean. \"Clothes, food, tools. We don't have to go after Sabetha, but we'd best have our asses on the road before the sun peeks over the horizon.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Karthain hasn't kept up an army or maintained its walls for three hundred years,\" said Jean. \"Ina few hours, it's going to wake up to discover that the only thing keeping it protected from the world at large has vanished during the night. Do you want to be here when that mess breaks wide open?\"\n\n\"Oh, shit. Good point.\"\n\nLocke stood up and looked around the room one last time.\n\n\"Key, crown, child,\" he muttered. \"Well, fuck you, Patience. Three things must you kiss before I let you spook me for good. My boots, my balls, and my ass.\"\n\nLocke pulled his boots on and followed Jean down the stairs, impatient to have Karthain at his back and slowly sinking into the horizon." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "THE BOY IS six. He stares at the Amathel, breathes the lake air, the wholesome scents of life and freshness. He stares at the glinting lights, the jewels in the blackness, the secrets of the Eldren scattered in the depths. The dock folk claim that fishermen in the water at night have been driven mad by the lights, have dived down toward them, pulling frantically, as if toward the surface, until they drowned. Or vanished.\n\nThe boy is not afraid of the lights. The boy has power the dock folk can only guess at. He feels a pressure in his temples when he stares out across the waters. He hears something lower and lovelier than the steady wash of the waves and the cries of the birds. The power of the hidden things calls to the power of the boy.\n\nThe boy knows the Amathel took his father. He has been told this, but he remembers nothing. He was too young. There is no memory to mourn. The lake of jewels means only life, beauty, soothing familiarity.\n\nAll these things. And the power that waits for his power to match it. To reveal it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "THE BOY is four, the boy is ten, the man is twenty. His body shifts in this place. Sometimes he is whole, sometimes he is pleased, sometimes his memories are bright and vivid as paintings glowing with the fire of the gods in every speck of pigment.\n\nSometimes he speaks in a rich rolling voice. Sometimes he moves his hands and feels the fingers there, feels them brushing over surfaces and picking things up. He does not know why this pleases him, why he feels something like the hot pressure of tears behind his eyes, why the joy is so bittersweet.\n\nSometimes he walks in a fog. His thoughts are wrapped in dull cotton. Sometimes he is on a street and he is confused. He is bound with rope, throbbing with pain, his hands and his mouth caked with blood. His own blood. The rain comes down and men are staring at him, studying him, afraid.\n\nSometimes he is gazing out across the Amathel, feeling the life of the bird for the first time. A gull, an elegant white thing, wheeling in tight circles. The boy feels its needs, its hunger, the elegant simplicity of the thing at the center of it all. The boy visualizes this as a wheel, apiece of clockwork, a logic circle turning without friction or remorse. Strike, eat, live on the wind. Strike, eat, live on the wind.\n\nThe boy moves his fingers to call up his untutored power. He reaches out and takes the life of the birdlike a humming thread in the hands that nobody else can see, the hands of power his mother has taught him to use.\n\nThe bird is startled.\n\nIts wings fold awkwardly. It plummets twenty feet and bounces hard off a rock, then plops into the water, fluttering and squawking agitatedly, lucky its wings aren't broken." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The boy needs practice." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "THE BOY is ten. The boy has run across the hills and forests north of Karthain all night with blood in his mouth. The boy has crouched in the center of a web, still as stone, with venom in his fangs and the faintest sensation of movement rippling across his fur, the air currents of prey fluttering ever closer. The boy has swept high into the sky, chased the sun, learned to strike, eat, and live on the wind.\n\n\"You must not,\" his mother insists. His mother is powerful, his mother is teaching him her gifts, but she will not let him teach her his own.\n\n\"It is not highly thought of, among our kind,\" she says. \"You area man! You will think as a man! There's no room fora man in those tiny minds.\"\n\n\"I share,\" said the boy. \"I command. I don't feel small. If they really are tiny, perhaps I make them big whenever I go inside!\"\n\n\"You will grow more and more sensitive,\" says his mother. \"You will tie yourself more and more tightly to them, do you understand? Their lives will become yours, their feelings yours. If they are hurt, you will share all their pain. If they are killed... you maybe lost as well.\"\n\nThe boy doesn't understand. His mother tells him these things as though there were no compensations. The boy knows that he is alone, among all the magi his mother has presented him to, in his willingness to share the lives of animals.\n\nThere is no dissuading the boy. He has tasted life without regrets, life without remorse, life lived on the wind. It is what he is; he returns to himself after each communion feeling that part of the wild has come with, to live inside him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His mother could make him stop. Even at ten, the boy knows what she holds over him, burns with shame at it. But she will not use it. She lectures and begs and threatens, but she will not speak the thing that would lock his will in an iron strongbox.\n\nShe cannot, or will not, but it doesn't make the boy forgive her. He casts his awareness into hidden places for owls, ravens, hawks. He hurls himself into the sky carrying anger from the ground, and hot blood runs on his talons. He soars to forget he has legs. He kills to forget he has rules and expectations. He never shares this experience with anyone else. He goes alone to the woods, and dead songbirds fall like rain. When he is shamed in his studies or rebuked for his attitude, he remembers the blood on his talons, and he endures with a smile." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "THE BOY is gone, the man is twenty-five, the man is... lost.\n\nSometimes he is in the dead gray place. His legs refuse to move. His hands feel like crippled lumps. His tongue throbs with a phantom pain, an electric tingle. He is trapped on abed as though nailed to it. He cannot remember how he came to be in this place. He sobs, panics, tries to claw his way to freedom with his missing fingers.\n\nOnly the smell of the lake relaxes him, the cool fresh scent of the water, the occasional piquancy of dead fish or gull shit. When the wind blows these things to him he can bear the confusion and the torture of the dead place.\n\nWhen the wind is wrong the shadows around him pour something cold and bitter down his throat, and he goes into the darkness cursing them wordlessly." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "THE LAKE air blows through the dead place. He takes it in as though no other air will sustain him. It is night; the darkness is offset by the light of a single lamp. Everything is strange; he feels a buoyant force inside his chest, something rising through him like bubbles in a spring. The room is clarifying, as though layer after layer of gauze is being removed from his face.\n\nThe light stings his eyes; the new clarity is unnerving. There are shadows moving near the light, two of them.\n\nThe man tries to speak, and a strangled wet moan startles him. It takes a moment to realize that the noise is his own, that his tongue is a scrap of cauterized stump.\n\nHis hands! He remembers Camorr, remembers steel coming down, remembers the shared pain of Vestris' last moments washing over him in unbearable waves. He remembers Locke Lamora and Jean Tannen. He remembers Luciano Anatolius.\n\nHe is the Falconer, and the air in the room is heavy with the smell of the Amathel. He is alive and back in Karthain.\n\nHow long? He feels stiff, light, weak. Significant weight has vanished from his body. Has it been weeks, months?\n\nNearly three years, whispers a soft voice in his head. A familiar voice. A hated voice.\n\n\"Mnnnnghr,\" he rasps, the best he can do. The frustration comes on like a physical weight. He can sense the currents of magic in the room, feel the strength of his mother nearby, but his tools are missing. The power is thereto be wielded, but his will slides from it like sand off smooth glass.\n\nI'll take care of it for both of us." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Cold fingers of force slide across his mind, and the impotence, blessedly, is lifted. He feels the words as he crafts them, feels them going out to her, mind to mind, his first orderly communication in... three years?\n\nTHREE YEARS!\n\nAs I said.\n\nCamorr...\n\nYes, the Anatolius contract.\n\nHow badly was I injured? What did they do tome?\n\nNot enough to cause your present condition.\n\nThe Falconer ponders the import of these words, flips desperately through his memories like the pages of a book.\n\nA dreamsteel model of a city. Its towers falling into flat silvery nothingness.\n\nArchedama Patience, in the Sky Chamber, warning him that he is headed into danger.\n\nSteel rising and falling. Cauterizing heat, white bolts of pain in his mind unlike anything he has ever imagined. Vestris, dead. Before the blade can come for his tongue he tries to work the spell of pain-deadening, the old familiar technique, but on the other side of it... not welcome relief. Fog, madness, prison.\n\nNow see it all.\n\nPatience speaks a word, and something comes loose in his mind. A patina cracks over an old memory, revealing the truth within the shell.\n\nArchedama Patience. The night of his departure, a brief private audience. She warns him again. Again, he scoffs at the transparency of her ploys. She speaks another word then, and the word is urgent and irresistible. The word is his name, his true name, uttered as the cornerstone of a spell. He is bound to it, then made to forget.\n\nYou... you did it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A subtle compulsion. A trap. An irrevocable order sleeping in his mind until the next time he used the art of deadening pain.\n\nYOU did this tome....\n\nYou did it to yourself.\n\nYOU DID THIS TOME!\n\nI gave you the chance to avoid it.\n\nNO. THE CHANCE TO SHOW MY THROAT.\n\nYour arrogance again. Can't you see that you were a problem in want of a solution?\n\nAND YOUR SOLUTION... ASSASSINATION. FAR FROM HOME.\n\nI suppose that's the only honest way to look at it.\n\nI'M YOUR GODS-DAMNED SON!\n\nI wear five rings. You put yourself on the wrong side of them.\n\nWell. He forces himself to lower his mental voice, to think coolly. There must be danger here. Why is she telling him this, revealing all after three years? You certainly fucked things up, didn't you?\n\nAll I could foresee was that you were headed into serious pain. Therefore I assumed that you would be in extreme danger... that you would do the obvious thing.\n\nParalyze myself, you mean! And then it would all be over.\n\nExcept your opponents were... scrupulous.\n\nAh. Is this what scrupulous treatment feels like? Lucky, lucky me.\n\nI told you, it's not what I wanted!\n\nYou and your gods-damned prescience. Your snide little hints. The way you tried to control everyone around you with them. What good was it, if you couldn't even see THIS coming at us? Tell me, Mother, have you ever managed to have a vision of your OWN future?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "No.\n\nWell, that must be pleasant for you. To be the only real person in your whole damned world, and all the rest of us puppets for your private stage. How does it feel NOW?\n\n\"It's over,\" says Patience, switching to actual speech. She is beside his bed now, looking down at him. \"All of it. Your associates are dead. Archedama Foresight is dead.\"\n\nHow?\n\n\"Irrelevant. You are the sole survivor of your faction. All questions between us have been settled. We're leaving Karthain, entering the time of quiet as planned. You are my final item of business before I go.\"\n\nCome to kill me last? Come to bring an end to three years of cowardice?\n\n\"Part of me wishes you were dead,\" she says. \"Wishes you'd died cleanly, as you would have had you been healthy and abroad in Karthain tonight. I can't imagine wanting to live on in your... condition. And I will end your suffering, if it's what you desire. But I felt that I had to ask. I owe you at least this much.\"\n\nShe points to the other figure in the room, a burly man, balding, with a black mustache that droops to the collar of his brown tunic. There are no rings visible on either of his wrists.\n\n\"This is Eganis, your caretaker.\" She offers images and impressions, revealing to the Falconer how it has been for three years.\n\nEganis moving him, rolling him from side to side, turning him to avoid weeping bedsores.\n\nEganis feeding him, gruel and pap and milk.\n\nEganis emptying his chamber pot." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Serve as the author's scribe, continue the tale.\nTags: fantasy, heist, theater\nAuthor: Scott Lynch\nTitle: The Republic of Thieves\nChapter: 171" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "No.\n\nWell, that must be pleasant for you. To be the only real person in your whole damned world, and all the rest of us puppets for your private stage. How does it feel NOW?\n\n\"It's over,\" says Patience, switching to actual speech. She is beside his bed now, looking down at him. \"All of it. Your associates are dead. Archedama Foresight is dead.\"\n\nHow?\n\n\"Irrelevant. You are the sole survivor of your faction. All questions between us have been settled. We're leaving Karthain, entering the time of quiet as planned. You are my final item of business before I go.\"\n\nCome to kill me last? Come to bring an end to three years of cowardice?\n\n\"Part of me wishes you were dead,\" she says. \"Wishes you'd died cleanly, as you would have had you been healthy and abroad in Karthain tonight. I can't imagine wanting to live on in your... condition. And I will end your suffering, if it's what you desire. But I felt that I had to ask. I owe you at least this much.\"\n\nShe points to the other figure in the room, a burly man, balding, with a black mustache that droops to the collar of his brown tunic. There are no rings visible on either of his wrists.\n\n\"This is Eganis, your caretaker.\" She offers images and impressions, revealing to the Falconer how it has been for three years.\n\nEganis moving him, rolling him from side to side, turning him to avoid weeping bedsores.\n\nEganis feeding him, gruel and pap and milk.\n\nEganis emptying his chamber pot." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Eganis walking him, leading the doddering Falconer by a length of leather around his neck.\n\nA mage of Karthain... leashed...\n\nIt was necessary to preserve your health.\n\nLike a dog...\n\nIt was necessary!\n\nLIKE A GODS-DAMNED DOG!\n\nYou're the one who always sought to know the spirits of animals more intimately.\n\nHe sends no words, but an unrelieved outpouring of hatred so hot and acidic he sees her stagger before she can manage to gird her mind against it.\n\n\"You'll understand when you calm down,\" she says. \"I'll leave this house and funds for Eganis to draw on. Without hands or voice, you're now effectively one of the ungifted, and you will never see any of us again. If you can find some reason to live, you are invited to do so. If you find the thought unpalatable, then I will... I will end the matter quickly and painlessly.\"\n\nI will accept nothing more from you for so long as I live. Not this house. Not Eganis. Not charity. Certainly not death.\n\n\"On your own head be it,\" she mutters. \"Eganis will stay. You're a mute invalid with three rings tattooed on your wrist, and Karthain could soon be a very... interesting place for you.\"\n\nThere's no hell for you deep enough to suit my tastes, Mother.\n\nYour ambitions and your researches were a threat to every living being on this world. Consider that, when you cry your tears.\n\nYour TIMIDITY! In the face of the secrets waiting to be unlocked everywhere the Eldren set foot, you want us to stay ignorant and helpless... well, to hell with you. All the real power of the human race is squandered on people like you... the willfully small. You and all your fellow punchlines to Karthain's worst joke. Five rings! Five prisoner's shackles!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "You would have been free to stick your hand into fire, if only the rest of us wouldn't have to burn with you. Good-bye, Falconer.\n\nShe departs, and the spell of thought-shaping crumbles in her absence. He is alone and voiceless with Eganis. The man looks at the Falconer, then slightly away, as though uncomfortable at seeing him with his eyes open.\n\n\"If you ever find the burden of your new life... too overwhelming,\" the man mutters, \"I am instructed... to offer you mercy. I have powders that can betaken in wine.\"\n\nThe Falconer glares at the man until he shrugs and leaves the room." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "NOW THE Falconer notices the autumn cold. He feels it like an ache in his too-thin body. Disgusted, he rolls to his left and attempts to stand on his own two feet.\n\nSuccess, but only just. Gods, he moves like a man of ninety! His hips ache and his legs seem too stick-thin to bear him, but they do, awkwardly. The Falconer chortles disgustedly at the creaky hop that passes for his walk.\n\nThere is nothing useful in this prisoner's chamber. Abed, a chair, a lamp, a chamber pot. The next room is larger, furnished with a library of several dozen volumes and a small basin. The Falconer hops wistfully to the basin, knowing what he'll see there. Dreamsteel is ubiquitous in mage households, a decoration and an amusement. The pool is inert to him, dead as water, and the frustration makes him shudder so hard he nearly falls over.\n\nLips trembling, he prods the silver pool with the remnants of his right hand. He needs fingers, flexible fingers! Then this steel could take any shape required at the press of a thought. When he was five, he could move the metal with a wave of his hands and a single word. Fresh heat rises in his cheeks, and for an instant he hates what he has become so fiercely he actually considers the powders offered by the caretaker.\n\nThe surface of the dreamsteel ripples in a place where he isn't touching it.\n\nThe Falconer leaps back, heart hammering, piteously loud in his weak chest. Gods! If his eyes are tricking him... if he didn't actually see that, he tells himself he'll demand the powders. His teeth are rattling from excitement as he bends back over the basin. He touches the severed stumps of his fingers to the liquid and stares at it, mustering all of his willpower from its long slumber, all of his fury, all of his inhumanly honed focus and desire. Beads of sweat pour down his forehead." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He shudders with a yearning so profound his breath comes in gasps.\n\nHair-thin strands of dreamsteel creep onto the stump of his right index finger. Then thick drops, then a tangible curving line. He feels power like a vibration along the silver edge. His grip on the energy of sorcery. His focus. Hot tears drench his cheeks, and his chest heaves like a bellows.\n\nIna minute, he has crafted a single silvery finger, and the process gains speed. With one finger to direct the currents of magic, it is easy to craft a second, even easier to craft a third. Before he can believe it, the Falconer is staring in awestruck joy at a half-metal hand, held together by the trivial flexions of his will-four silver fingers and a silver thumb.\n\nHis wail of relief and joy is so loud and undignified that Eganis comes running from below. The man's eyes widen.\n\n\"What the hell do you think you're doing?\"\n\nThere's no need for the old device, the playing of a silver thread back and forth. The Falconer's hand will now do the job itself. He flexes his mirror-skinned fingers, makes a brush-off gesture toward Eganis, and the caretaker falls gasping to his knees.\n\nThe Falconer has power, but it is weak and vague. He needs a voice. Some magic only makes him more desperately thirsty to have it all back. Thirsty! The very idea... and yet, why not? What can caution possibly do for him now? He takes the dreamsteel basin in his new hand and tilts it into his mouth; the metal is cool and strangely salty. It pools beneath the stump of his tongue, slides in tendrils down his gullet, and there he holds it, shapes it, not as a tongue but as a thin resonant surface, vibrating half with sound and half with magic." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Eerie noises like hissing laughter fill the room as he fights to master the dreamsteel, to align it perfectly, to gild his throat.\n\n\"EGANIS,\" he booms at last. The voice is cold, the words like metal grates sliding shut. \"So, you would have offered me mercy, Eganis? YOU... offer ME mercy?\"\n\n\"Please,\" the caretaker coughs, \"I meant you no harm! I've taken care of you!\"\n\n\"I refused you as a gift.\" The Falconer seizes the basin and hurls it at Eganis, spilling the remaining dreamsteel over him. \"My mother should have sent you away.\"\n\nHe moves his silver hand and speaks in his silver voice. The dreamsteel comes alive and crawls over Eganis, rolling toward his neck.\n\n\"No! Please, I can serve you!\"\n\n\"You will serve me. As proof of concept.\"\n\nThe Falconer makes a fist, and the loose dreamsteel flows into Eganis' ears. Parallel red lines pour out beneath the silver ones, and then become rivers. Eganis screams. He clutches the top of his head, and there is a sound like wheat husks cracking. The skull shatters. A wave of silver fountains out behind hot blood and wet brains.\n\nThe results hit the floor in many different parts of the room. The Falconer calls the loose dreamsteel back to him, forming a necklace with it. He'll need to secure more, somehow, to craft another functional hand. Still, what he has should be more than enough to give him back his wild sky." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "THERE IS a narrow window beside the bookshelf. A gesture from the Falconer and the glass becomes sand, sliding out of the frame, blowing away into the blackly overcast night. Another gesture and the frame hinges rust; the Falconer pulls it out of the wall and lets it clatter to the floor.\n\nHe sees that he is somewhere in the Ponta Corbessa, just a block or two north of the docks. He sends his awareness forth, softly and subtly, well aware that none of the magi still abroad in the city will show him an instant's mercy if he is located. It takes only moments to find what he wants, one of the fan-tailed carrion crows of the North Amathel, sly sociable birds with sharp eyes, sharp beaks, and sharp talons.\n\nThe Falconer takes the first crow gently and launches it into the night, using a slim thread of awareness, suppressing his delight at the sensation of soaring. A moment or two reaffirms his affinity for the work, and he extends his control to the half-dozen other crows roosting nearby.\n\nThe Falconer's purloined murder circles over the Ponta Corbessa, hunting both for other crows and a glimpse of a certain cloaked woman. She must still be somewhere in Karthain, and he'll know her at any distance, so long as she isn't hidden away under a deep spell.\n\nSeven crows becomes thirty. The Falconer directs them with the precision of a dancing master, sending more and more of his awareness out into the feathered cloud, seeing not through individual pairs of eyes but as a thrilling gestalt, a whirling composite of dark streets, rooftops, rattling carriages, and hurrying people.\n\nThirty crows becomes sixty. Sixty becomes ninety. They unwind in orderly spirals, north and west, search tirelessly." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It doesn't take long to find her, at the western edge of the Ponta Corbessa. She is walking alone, toward some rendezvous, and the Falconer recognizes her beyond all possibility of doubt. Blood calls to blood.\n\nHis flights of crows, black against the black sky, converge and circle silently, three hundred feet up. In moments he has gathered one hundred and fifty, the most living creatures of any sort he has ever controlled at once. His mind is on fire with the thrill of power; now he has to be quick and certain, before Patience can bring her formidable skills into play, before any other magi can notice what's going on.\n\nOne crow flutters and falls out of the night. The rest follow a heartbeat later.\n\nPatience is on the pavement beside a warehouse, just passing under a swaying orange alchemical lamp. The first crow shoots past her hood from behind, brushing it, squawking and cawing all the way.\n\nShe whirls to see where it came from. The next dozen birds fly directly into her face.\n\nEyes, nose, cheeks, lips-there is no time to be merciful. The ball of sorcery-maddened crows pecks and claws at anything soft, anything vulnerable. Patience barely has time to scream before she is blind and on her back, flailing as more crows pour out of the sky like a black cloud given flesh.\n\nShe remembers her sorcery, and half manages a spell. A dozen birds flash into cinders, but a dozen more take their place, seeking neck and forehead, wrists and fingers. The Falconer presses Patience down to the pavement, the writhing flock a pure extension of his will, a crushing dark hand. Grinning madly, he channels a thought-sending to her, hurling his sigil against her shattered mental defenses, and then:" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Is this weakness, Mother?\n\nYou never understood my talents.\n\nThe truth is, they never made me weak.\n\nTHE TRUTH IS THAT THEY GAVE ME WINGS.\n\nThe beaks and claws of the carrion birds are driven by human intelligence; in moments they have opened Patience's wrists, pulped her hands, peeled the skin from her neck, torn out her eyes and tongue. She is helpless long before she dies.\n\nThe Falconer disperses his clouds of winged minions and sags against the window frame, gasping for breath. He has expended so much of himself.... He needs food. He must tear the house apart for anything useful. He needs clothing, money, boots.... He must be away as soon as he's eaten, away from this nest of his enemies, away to recover himself.\n\n\"The time of quiet, Mother?\" He hums the words softly to himself, savoring the eerie sensation of the dreamsteel vibrating in his throat. \"Oh, I think the last fucking thing your friends are going to enjoy is a time of quiet.\"\n\nHobbling uneasily, laughing to himself, he moves carefully down the stairs. First food, then clothes. Then to gather strength for the work ahead.\n\nThe long, bloody work ahead." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "As the author's co-writer, advance the plot.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, rogues\nAuthor: Michael J. Sullivan\nTitle: The Rose and the Thorn\nChapter: 24" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Looking embarrassed, Hadrian turned to Royce and said, \"Hear that, I'm going to have a wife.\"\n\n\"You deserve one,\" he replied, and was pleased to see Hadrian and Gwen each took his meaning differently. Words were rarely so accommodating.\n\nGwen looked back at the tavern. \"It will take years to make it really presentable. I'll need to rip out whole floors and still I wonder if I will ever manage to clean the memories of Grue and Stane from it.\"\n\n\"Make it too pretty and you'll have to change the name,\" Hadrian said, grabbing his horse.\n\n\"Oh, I plan to change the name. I won't own a place called The Hideous Head.\"\n\n\"What are you gonna call it?\" Hadrian asked.\n\n\"The Rose,\" she told him, and this caused around of smiles. \"I was thinking of clearing out that old kitchen storage room for you and Royce. It's back away from the public rooms. You could talk business there. Store your gear if you like. I'll watch over you as I did when we first met.\"\n\n\"How much?\" Royce asked.\n\n\"How much, what?\"\n\nRoyce approached her. \"How much rent will you charge?\"\n\nGwen looked stunned. \"I won't charge you rent.\"\n\n\"That's not smart.\"\n\nGwen pivoted around the crutch with two petite hops to face him full-on. \"I couldn't have bought the certificate to the tavern without you. If you hadn't come-\" She looked away and took a breath. \"If you hadn't come, Grue would have driven me out of business, or worse, and I honestly think it would have been the or worse. And who knows how many more Avons and Roses there would have been.\" She placed a small hand on his chest. \"You changed everything. And I owe you that-how could I charge?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Okay, fine. You'll get a percentage.\"\n\n\"I don't want a percentage. Honestly, I'm offering the use of the room in the selfish hope it will keep you coming back.\"\n\n\"I don't think you need to worry about that,\" Hadrian told her with a wink.\n\nRoyce wanted to stab him, but then noticed her smile, and... was she turning red? \"There's a risk to hosting thieves,\" he said quickly. \"You could be arrested, have your holdings taken, your hands cutoff, for Maribor's sake. I won't let you take that risk without payment. As long as we workout of your tavern, you'll get a cut of what we make.\"\n\n\"But I-\"\n\n\"I won't stay otherwise.\"\n\nShe had her mouth open but slowly closed it. He longed to wipe away the smudge on her cheek. His hand moved partway before he caught himself. What is it about her that makes me feel I can do such a thing?\n\n\"You'll stay? You'll live here?\"\n\nRoyce glanced at Hadrian and shrugged, trying his best to sound casual. \"Be nice to have a safe place to comeback to. But I insist you take a cut.\"\n\nHadrian chuckled. \"If this is going to be Royce's permanent home, maybe you should call it The Rose and the Thorn.\"\n\nRoyce glared, but Gwen beamed. \"I think I will. Yes, The Rose and the Thorn. It has a ring, don't you think?\"\n\n\"Oh good, I caught you!\" Albert came out of the House wrapping a robe about him and squinting at the bright sky.\n\n\"It's midmorning Winslow,\" Royce growled. \"You're starting to act like areal noble.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Thank you. I'm putting weight back on too. Now if I could only afford a decent coat I-\"\n\n\"What did you want?\" Royce asked, pulling himself upon his mount and snapping his cloak behind him.\n\n\"There's a party at Lord Harrington's tomorrow night that I thought I should attend.\"\n\n\"Uh-uh. Next outfit comes out of your share of the profit.\"\n\n\"It's not money. I was thinking that, well, I should call you two something. It's awkward to explain that I know two men who can arrange for things to happen. It sounds amateurish and I can't hope to establish referrals that way. I need a title, something people can remember, but of course nothing that would lead anyone to you. I don't want to use the word thieves either. The people Ideal with won't like that. So I was thinking of giving you a name. How about the Two Phantoms or Specters-something like that?\"\n\n\"The Two Phantoms?\" Hadrian asked skeptically.\n\nGwen shook her head. \"You need something special, something unique. Something short.\"\n\n\"How about Riyria?\" Hadrian said, climbing onto his horse.\n\nRoyce smirked.\n\n\"Arcadius was right after all, don't you think?\"\n\nRoyce shrugged. \"Just don't tell him that.\"\n\n\"Who was right-about what?\" the viscount asked.\n\n\"Nothing, Albert.\"\n\n\"So I'm to call you Rye-ear-ah? Is that correct?\"\n\n\"Good enough,\" Royce said as he and Hadrian turned their horses.\n\nAlbert pursed his lips. \"Well, I don't think it's as good as Phantoms, but it's something I guess.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It's perfect,\" Gwen said.\n\n\"See you soon.\" Royce waved and began to ride down Wayward Street.\n\n\"Wait! What is it?\" Albert called. \"What is Riyria? What does it mean?\"\n\n\"It's elvish... for two.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Did anyone see you come in?\" Bishop Saldur asked, stepping back and opening the path to the coatrack. From the snow his guest was covered in, the bishop assumed it was still snowing.\n\n\"No, but is it a crime to visit a church?\"\n\n\"Not yet, and with Novron's help, it never will be.\"\n\nTwo weeks had passed since the fire, but still Saldur had nightmares of the king drawing that sword of his. How dare he threaten a bishop of the church! His actions only showed how far Melengar had slipped into the mire of godless monarchy. This was the trouble reaped when men set themselves up as rulers-when they claimed a throne reserved for Novron's seed.\n\nSaldur sat down and leaned back in his desk chair. He was the bishop of Melengar, and Mares Cathedral was bestowed to his care by the Patriarch and the archbishop of Avryn, but he spent most of his time in that tiny, cramped room at that miserable desk. It wasn't the life he'd imagined for himself when he took his vows.\n\n\"Novron was of little help this time.\"\n\n\"Have more faith.\" Saldur scowled. The bishop was used to disappointments. The church had along history of waiting. For others a minor setback always felt like the end of the world. They just couldn't understand the scope. Everyone saw themselves as the hero of their story, as if the world rotated around them. Saldur knew the truth. Such impressions were only arrogance. Individuals never managed any kind of lasting change. Real change had to be built over generations. The church worked like drops of water on granite; the impossible was achievable only through sacrifice and time.\n\nThis just wasn't the time." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It's still early,\" Saldur said, putting his feet upon the velvet stool before the little fireplace. \"Eventually all the kings\" heads will fall.\"\n\n\"What of Exeter's killer? And that girl-Rose-who hired him? They're still out there-still know about us.\"\n\n\"They know about me,\" Saldur corrected. \"No one knows about you. No one could ever suspect you-not now, not after how things turned out. And I wouldn't worry about Exeter's killer. He's likely some hired thug or lovesick puppy who she enchanted with those wicked eyes. Even I was taken in by her apparent innocence. He and Rose are likely long gone. I don't expect to hear from them again.\"\n\n\"What about Richard Hilfred?\"\n\nSaldur almost laughed, but laughter was unbecoming a bishop in the office of his church. Instead he raised an eyebrow. \"The man is dead. What's thereto worry about?\"\n\n\"He might have told others.\"\n\n\"No. Richard was a solitary soul, closed off to the world. He didn't trust anyone. That was why I chose him. He blamed the king for his lover's death, and I knew he was an ambitious man. No real loyalty in him either. Anyone could see that. I merely showed him the path he wanted to take.\"\n\n\"And gave him the blessing of the church. Knowing Novron is on your side always eases one's conscience, even when plotting murder.\"\n\nSaldur didn't appreciate the disrespectful tone, but what did he expect from this one? \"Killing isn't murder when done in the name of Novron. Everyone must die, and die they will-when Novron or his father Maribor decrees it. What difference does it make should the hand of Novron be a lightning bolt or a dagger? I was concerned about your ability to weather the storms necessary to take the throne and rule Melengar. Your age has always been a concern. You're very young. Perhaps I chose poorly?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No.\"\n\nSaldur got up and placed another logon the fire. Feeding his own hearth was just one more indignity he had to endure, but he certainly couldn't allow anyone in his office during this meeting, and they couldn't meet in the high tower anymore. And it was cold. He hated winter. This looked to be along, dark one, made colder by the fact that he'd expected to be spending it in the luxury of the castle.\n\n\"It seems like a defeat,\" Saldur said, trying to sound positive, \"but we're actually closer. Much closer.\"\n\n\"Maybe.\"\n\n\"So skeptical.\"\n\nThis brought a smirk.\n\n\"The next time we won't miss. We'll wait a few years, let things settle down, let people forget.\"\n\n\"We can't have another fire. There's already been two.\"\n\nSaldur considered this. \"And we can't afford to miss again. We'll have to literally stab him in the back.\"\n\n\"If we do that, the people are going to want us to find the killer.\"\n\n\"That won't be a problem.\" Saldur smiled. \"We'll just pin it on someone.\"\n\n\"Not another traitor. I'm not sure people will stomach that either.\"\n\n\"No, we'll find someone else. Someone without a name, someone unimportant and easy to attach the blame to.\"\n\n\"Like who?\"\n\n\"A couple of thieves perhaps-that way nothing can go wrong.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "As the writer's co-author, extend the plot.\nTags: fantasy, norse mythology, dragons\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: The Shadow of the Gods\nChapter: 6" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A silence from the crowd, as if everyone were holding their breath, then a huge roar.\n\nEinar backhanded Varg, catching him on the side of his chin. It was a weaker blow, past its snapping point, but it still sent Varg to the ground. Einar climbed to his feet, face mottled with anger and raised a boot to stamp on Varg's head.\n\nVarg rolled, wrapped his arms around Einar's ankle as his boot slammed into the mud, and pulled himself tight to the man.\n\n\"Get off, you little shite,\" Einar grunted as he shook his leg, but Varg held tight. Pain was flaring everywhere now, Varg moving to a place beyond it. He opened his jaws and bit into Einar's leg, through woollen leg wraps and breeches into the flesh of Einar's calf.\n\nEinar bellowed.\n\nVarg tasted a spurt of blood, bit down harder.\n\nThe scream shifted higher in pitch.\n\nEinar was abruptly still and through one eye Varg glimpsed a fist hurtling towards his face. He bit down harder, grinding his teeth.\n\nWhite light exploded in his head.\n\nPain. Like hammers in his head. Knives in his side. Deep-stabbing needles in his hand. He tried to open his eyes but found he couldn't.\n\nAm I dead? Is this Vergelmir, Lik-Rifa's chamber? Or have my eyes been stitched shut by a mischievous fetch?\n\nMore pain, allover, but spiking in his head, his ribs, his hand. A sound, the murmur of water. He groaned, got a mouthful of grit for the effort and rolled onto his back, lifted his good hand to his eyes and felt something crusted and sticky. Dried blood. He rubbed and managed to open his eyes a crack." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The moon and stars above, a ghostly blur in a death-black sky.\n\nI am alive, then.\n\nFora moment he was memoryless: he had no idea where he was or what had happened to him.\n\nHe licked his teeth and scabbed lips, tasted salt andiron, spat blood onto the sand.\n\nNot just my blood.\n\nA fluttering sound recalled, a man bellowing in pain.\n\nAn image in his mind, a huge fist speeding towards him.\n\nThen memory crashed in like a dam breaking.\n\nEinar Half-Troll, the Bloodsworn...\n\nHe pushed himself upright, saw that he was sitting on a black-sanded bank, behind him wind sighing through the branches of trees. A thousand lights glimmered from Liga, aglow leaking into the sky above it like light from a dying fire, all locked tight within the town's stockade walls. Ships creaked and swayed on their moorings on the fjord, the moon and stars turning the dark waters to molten silver.\n\nHe put a hand to those parts that hurt the most. His ribs, a handover his woollen tunic. No broken skin, just painful to the touch. Probably a broken rib or two. He looked at his injured hand, the knuckles purple-black in the night, and swollen. He tried to make a fist, but the pain and swelling stopped him. Then he put his good hand to his face. A gash over his eye, blood crusted upon it, the whole side of his face swollen, his jaw throbbing. One tooth loose.\n\nHis fingertips brushed the iron collar around his neck.\n\nPanic.\n\nThe key. My cloak.\n\nHe staggered to his feet, ignoring the pain, checking himself over, a surge of relief that his pouch still hung at his belt. He fumbled at the leather draw, blew out along breath when he saw the contents were still there." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But my thrall-collar...\n\nAnd then he saw it, a darker shadow on the black sand: his woollen cloak, neatly folded. He bent, lifted it, checking the hidden pockets. Something heavy and cold: the cleaver he had taken from the trader; in the same pocket the bag of coin, by its weight untouched, and then he found the key.\n\nAlong, frozen moment, relief flooding him, and he put the key to the lock, fumbling with one hand, finally a click as the key bit. The collar creaked open on sweat-rusted hinges and he put it back in the cloak pocket, along with the key.\n\nHe walked unsteadily to the fjord's edge, kneeled and cupped his hands, sipped the cold water. It was like slivers of ice in his throat and belly, painfully sharp and refreshing. He splashed his face and spent awhile trying to wash the blood away, then shook his head, droplets spraying. Filled a water bottle from his belt. When he was done, he stood, shivering, and clumsily threw his cloak around his shoulders, pinned it and walked wearily towards the treeline.\n\nStepping among the trees he threaded his way up a gentle slope through the pine, maybe thirty or forty paces, until he could no longer seethe shimmer of the fjord behind him. Moonlight filtered down from above, silver dappling the ground as branches swayed. Dropping to his knees he scraped the woodland litter away until he had cleared a circle of hard-packed earth, then set about finding something that would burn. He returned with an armful of dead timber and set it down on the cleared space, reached for his kindling pouch, pulling out a stone and striking-iron, and a handful of dried kindling, and then set to sparking afire. Soon he was blowing gently on the first sparks, fanning the flames into life." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Keeping busy was good, because a wave of despair was building within him.\n\nHe had failed.\n\nSitting back, he held his hands out to the fire, trying to chase the ice from his bones, and stared into the flames.\n\nFrøya, I am sorry.\n\nHe felt the grief welling, that he had kept shut tight somewhere deep in his mind, in his heart, walled in tight. Despair like ice clawed and cracked at those walls. He put his head in his hands, a sob building in his chest, writhing up into his throat, unstoppable. Tears rolled down his cheeks and memories of Frøya filled his mind. His sister. His only friend.\n\nHe had no memory of his father or mother, only what he had been told by Kolskegg, who had bought him and Frøya when they were bairns. Kolskegg had told him that Varg's parents had sold him and Frøya fora loaf of bread and a dozen duck eggs when Varg was five winters old, Frøya four. All their lives spent as thralls, each other their only solace, their only comfort. He rested his hand on the pouch at his belt.\n\nAnd now she is dead, and I don't know how to avenge her.\n\nAfter awhile Varg looked up, rubbed his eyes, winced at the pain.\n\nThis is not the end, he told himself. I have come too far to just give up now. There must be a Galdurman or Seiðr-witch somewhere in all of Vigrið that will help me, for coin. I will find them, wherever they are. And if I cannot find them in Vigrið then I shall travel the whale-road sea to Iskidan, and search all of the Shattered Realms until I have found someone to help me." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I will goon.\n\nHe sucked in along, ragged breath, pushing his memories back, somewhere deep and dark.\n\nA twig cracked in the woods.\n\nWithout thinking he scrambled to his feet, kicked at the fire, sparks exploding. Stood there, listening, staring into the shadow-black.\n\nA low, rumbled growl.\n\nA figure burst from the undergrowth, a man dragged by a hound on a leash, more shapes behind him. The hound leaped at him.\n\nVarg stepped to the side, snapped his left arm out, shoving the leaping hound away. The force of his blow sent him stumbling into a tree, and sent the hound crashing onto the fire. More sparks erupted, the hound yelping, fur igniting.\n\n\"Thought you could run from us forever,\" a voice snarled, coming from a woman that stepped around the houndsman, a spear levelled at Varg's chest.\n\nVarg pushed off the tree, reaching inside his cloak, the spear stabbing into bark. He fumbled the cleaver out and chopped at the spear shaft, splintering it, ducked as the woman still clutching the haft used it like a club attempting to cave Varg's skull in. A slice of the cleaver as Varg stumbled away; a scream; the woman clutching her ribs and dropping to her knees.\n\nThe hound was rolling, yelping and whining, flames in its fur, the houndsman tearing his cloak off and wrapping it around the animal, trying to put the flames out. Other men appeared from the gloom: three, four more at least, it was hard to tell in the murk, but Varg saw all had spears in their fists. He looked wildly around and ran fora gap in the trees. A crack to the back of his legs and he stumbled, tried to right his balance but tripped over a root, fell to one knee, put a handout to save himself and yelled, pain shooting through his injured hand." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Another blow across his shoulders, sending him face first to the ground; a mouth full of pine needles and dirt." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He rolled, lashed outwith the cleaver, felt it bite into someone's leg, heard another scream. A man dropped to the ground beside him, tearing the cleaver from Varg's grip.\n\nAfoot kicked Varg in the chest as he tried to rise, another man stamping on his wrist, pinning him. Varg snarled, tried to roll and a spear butt clubbed him across the forehead, sent him crashing back to the forest litter. Blood in his eyes. A spear hovered over his throat, another man standing on his other wrist, pinning him wide.\n\nVarg stared up, breathing hard, blood pounding in his head.\n\n\"You thought I wouldn't find you,\" the man looming over him said. His face was lit by the stuttering fire, shadow and flame. Abroad man, black-bearded, a scar running through his lip that twisted his mouth into a permanent sneer.\n\n\"Leif,\" Varg spat, \"you should not have followed me.\"\n\n\"Ha,\" Leif grunted. \"You'd have to run faster and further to hide from me, after what you did to my father. Butchered like an animal. I only knew him by his chain.\"\n\nVarg did not remember. It had been a red-tinged haze, only coming back to his senses as he choked the life from Snepil. He had sat back, then, dazed, blood and carnage all about him.\n\n\"You've lost your collar, Varg the thrall,\" Leif said.\n\n\"I am no thrall,\" Varg grunted. He pulled in a breath through his pain. \" Your father cheated me. I earned my freedom and your father broke his oath. I am a freedman, no different from you. V One of the men pinning Varg kicked him in the face. He spat blood." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Leif laughed.\n\n\"You are Varg the thrall, and you are my thrall, now. My property. You belong tome. Leif Kolskeggson; son of the man you murdered.\" Leif glanced atone of the men beside him. \"Put a collar and chain on this dog.\" He touched his spear tip to Varg's chest, traced it over his torso, then slowly slid the blade's edge across Varg's ribs, a line of blood welling. \"I am going to bleed you, but death would be too much of a kindness to you,\" Leif said. He stabbed his spear into the ground and squatted down beside Varg, checking him over for weapons. There was a chink of metal as Leif reached inside Varg's cloak and pulled out the bag of coin.\n\n\"Stolen from my father, no doubt,\" Leif said and spat in Varg's face. \"I am going to chain you to my horse and drag you all the way back to my farm-steading,\" he said slowly, taking care over his words, anger putting a tremor into them. \"Once there you will have the lash, until you can no longer stand. Until I have seen your bones. And then I shall put you back to work. For me. Making me coin for the rest of your stinking, miserable life.\"\n\nVarg twisted and writhed, heaved one hand free. Booted kicks rained in, curling him up. He lay their gasping.\n\n\"My leg,\" a voice whimpered close by, the man Varg had struck with his cleaver. The blade was still embedded in his leg.\n\n\"Bastard thrall's cut me, broken my ribs,\" another voice wheezed: the woman, sitting propped against a tree, one hand pressed to a black glistening wound in her side. Leif stood, walked over to the man and leaned down, grabbed the cleaver's wooden handle and wrenched it free of the injured warrior's leg, eliciting a high-pitched scream. \"Orl, tend to their wounds,\" Leif ordered the man still sitting close to the fire, patting his hound down. The flames were out, patches of fur blackened, the hound whining. Orl stood and moved to the injured man and woman, giving Varg a dismayed look. He was old, his grey hair thin and lank, and he wore an iron collar around his throat." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You hurt my old girl,\" he muttered at Vargas he pulled a knife and kneeled beside the wounded woman, began cutting at her tunic and cleaning her wound. The hound limped after him.\n\nLeif hefted the cleaver.\n\n\"Murdered my father,\" Leif said, and slashed the cleaver through the air. \"Slew three other freedmen.\" Two more slashes of the cleaver, air whistling. \"Now you injure two of my hird.\" He pointed the cleaver at Varg. \"I'll give you part of your punishment now, I'm thinking. One for you to think over on the journey back to my steading.\" He looked at the two men standing over Varg. \"Pull his arm out; hold him tight.\"\n\nVarg stared at Leif, then at the two men as one gripped his hand, the other twisting his other arm up behind his back.\n\nHe's going to cut my hand off.\n\nVarg hurled himself against the men, straining and thrashing, but the man behind him held him tight, a white-hot pain lancing into his shoulder, his arm close to breaking. He collapsed, gasping.\n\n\"Don't worry. When we get home, I'll have Orl carve you a hand of wood, so you can still work on the farm,\" Leif said, his lips twisting.\n\nA sound behind Leif, of branches snapping. Leif paused, all of them staring into the darkness.\n\nA man stepped out of the woodland, tall and broad, with a bald head and grey beard. A coat of mail shimmered in the moonlight. He held a bearded long-axe in both hands. Like a staff. There were shadows behind him, patches of deeper darkness. The silver-haired woman appeared, two wolfhounds at her side. They were snarling, hackles raised." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Let him go,\" the grey-beard said.\n\nLeif raised the cleaver high.\n\nThe grey-beard moved, faster than Varg could track, and then Leif was doubled over, the cleaver falling to the ground. The men holding Varg burst into motion, reaching for their spears, stabbing at the grey-beard as Leif coughed and retched on his knees.\n\nThe wolfhounds leaped forwards, jaws latching onto the arm and leg of one man, dragging him to the ground.\n\nA cracking sound and trees ruptured apart, Einar Half-Troll emerging, a punch sending one of Leif's men hurtling through branches, disappearing into the darkness. Another figure darted past the grey-beard: Svik, the slim, red-haired man who had first spoken to Varg. His face was twisted in a snarl, his seax in his fist, cold iron gleaming. He swayed around a stabbing spear, stepped in close and ran the seax-blade along the spear shaft, slicing. A scream and severed fingers fell to the ground. The spear dropped and the slim man grabbed the screaming warrior by his woollen tunic, dragged him forward and headbutted him. He fell with a gurgle.\n\nSilence in the clearing: just heavy breathing, the wind in the trees, Leif groaning. Varg stared at the fallen men, too stunned to move. Leif was still on his hands and knees, one hand cupping his groin. Saliva dribbled from his mouth. Orl sat against the tree, eyes wide. His hound growled at the newcomers.\n\nSvik strode towards Orl and growled at the hound, a deep, animal sound, and the hound tucked his tail between his legs, whined, and pressed tightly into Orl." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Svik laughed as he wiped blood from his forehead and braided hair.\n\nThe grey-beard stepped past Leif and stood over Varg.\n\n\"He's... mine,\" Leif spluttered. \"My thrall, and mine by right of weregild. He must answer for... murder.\"\n\n\"No,\" the grey-beard said, his voice like gravel. \"He's one of the Bloodsworn now.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"ROW, you niðing bunch of gutless troll-turds!\" Sighvat bellowed as he beat time on a barrel with a knotted lump of rope.\n\nElvar gritted her teeth and dragged on her oar, the muscles in her back and shoulders screaming. A swell lifted their drakkar high, her dragon-prow pointing at the slate-grey sky and Elvar's oar breached the water. She felt a weightlessness in the pit of her stomach as she lost her balance and almost slipped from her sea-chest, then the prow was surging down, cutting into the ice-flecked waves. An explosion of sea spray crashed over the bows, the wind whipping it across Elvar's back like hailstones. She cuffed sleet and a strand of her blonde hair from her face, corrected her oar, found her rhythm and bent back to the rowing, losing herself in the motion, muscles contracting, extending, a burning deep in every fibre. In front of her Grend's broad back filled her vision, the grey streaks in his hair made dark with sweat and salt-spray. Beyond him, glimpsed through the rhythm of Grend's lean and pull, was fat-bellied Sighvat beating time, and behind him in the stern stood Agnar, her chief. He was laughing like it was his name-day with a belly full of mead, his blond braid of hair whipped by the wind. His hands gripped around the tiller, wrestling the steering oar as he fought to guide the Wave-Jarl between the arms of two curving promontories, the open sea and glowering clouds behind him.\n\n\"ROW!\" Sighvat yelled again and fifty oars dipped into the white-frothed sea, backs bending, straining as the Wave-Jarl carved her way through the waves." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"BEACH!\" a voice cried from the drakkar 's bow, and Elvar felt a burst of new strength at that cry, a hope that the toil and muscle-burning would end. They had found Iskalt Island easily enough, marked by the red veins of fire that glowed within the mountain that dominated the island, but finding a beach to land upon had been harder going. She bent and pulled, bent and pulled.\n\nSomewhere behind her torn fragments of Kráka's chanting drifted back to her, the Tainted thrall singing her dark magic to keep the serpents and other sea vaesen from their drakkar's hull.\n\nA black-granite spur of rock appeared to her left, seals and puffins upon it regarding the dragon-prowed ship as it slipped past them. Elvar felt the sea calm about the Wave-Jarl, as if obeying some rune-cast spell. The rowing became easier as they swept into a natural harbour, waves gentling, a white-flecked wake rippling wide behind them. Agnar barked a command at Sighvat.\n\n\"HALF-TIME!\" Sighvat bellowed and decreased the rhythm of his barrel-thumping.\n\nElvar slowed her strokes and felt excitement bubbling, melting her exhaustion.\n\nWe are here.\n\nAnother shouted word from Agnar.\n\n\"OARS IN!\" Sighvat yelled. He ceased his beating on the barrel and strode along the deck, passing Elvar and heading to the prow. Elvar dragged her oar back through the hole, hearing the clatter of wood as oars were laid in their racks, and swivelled the oar-hole plug into place. There was the crunch of timber as the Wave-Jarl ground along a wooden pier and then Agnar was tying the tiller and striding along the deck, yelling orders." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elvar stood, stretched, hearing bones click in her neck and back, then threw open her sea-chest. She unrolled a strip of sheepskin, pulled out her brynja, the riveted mail glistening with oils from the sheepskin that protected her precious mail from rust. With long-practised ease she lifted the coat of mail, threaded her arms through it, then heaved it up over her head. A wriggle and shake and it slipped over her shoulders and down her torso. A thin belt buckled tight to take the weight of mail from her shoulders, and then she was reaching for her weapons belt, sword, seax and axe suspended from it. She drew her sword a handspan to check it hadn't snared, then let it drop back down: a habit she had learned from Grend since the first day she had laid her hands around the hilt of a sword. Last of all she reached into her chest fora nålbinding cap of coarse wool, pulled it over her head and then lifted her helm, polished plates of banded iron, a curtain of riveted mail to protect her neck, adjusted it so that her vision was good through the spectacled eye-holes, then buckled it tight. She flashed a grin at Grend as he went through the same process, the warrior rolling his shoulders to settle his brynja. He gave her a flat stare, his face creased and dour, which only helped to broaden her own smile, then she was reaching for her shield that stood wedged into a rack along the top-rail, tugging it free and slipping her hand around the wooden grip, fist settling into the boss. She moved to a rack of spears, took hers and waited for Agnar's orders, eager to disembark.\n\nAgnar was calling out names, tenor twelve, those ordered to stay with the ship and guard it, then he was shouting for the rest to disembark and they leaped from the top-rail onto the wooden pier Sighvat had moored them to, Elvar and Grend among them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Flecks of snow drifted on the wind among the sleet, the clouds above swollen and bloated. Elvar looked around and saw that the pier led onto a shingle beach. Nets were hanging upon poles, drying or ready for repair, crab-catching willow-baskets piled together, sat before a cluster of smokehouses. An old, rotted hull lay abandoned, terns and herring gulls perched upon it, eyeing these newcomers. The beach rose sharply, shingle shifting to earth and, upon a ridge overlooking the beach, a few dozen buildings huddled close together, lines of thin smoke rising, disappearing into the snow-laden sky. Beyond the buildings there was a treeline of aspen and birch, more buildings squatting beneath boughs. The land rose into foothills, turning quickly into towering, granite-faced cliffs as sharp as jagged teeth that rose towards the peak of the island's mountain of flame. Thin, red tendrils dissected the cliffs, glowing within the dark rock like forge-fire.\n\nThere was movement in the village, fur-draped people emerging from doors, staring. Some running, others clutching spears and hunting bows.\n\nI hate bows, Elvar thought and spat on the pier, curling her lip. A coward's weapon. How can a warrior earn their battle-fame killing at a distance?\n\nShe hefted her shield, painted red with a sword, axe and spear crossed upon it, the weapons lined in swirling knotwork.\n\n\"By the dead gods, but it's cold,\" Biórr muttered. He smiled at her as he said it, shield slung across his back, stamping his feet and blowing a cloud of misted breath into his palms.\n\nElvar just looked at him, saw the interest in his eyes and looked away." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"It's a fine day,\" she said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In truth she was feeling the corpse-cold seeping into her, now her muscles were cooling, silent as death. Beside them the Wave-Jarl creaked, rising and falling on the swell, the blue-black sea glistening and sluggish with ice. Spring was just a distant word, this far north.\n\n\"Elvar, Grend, with me!\" Agnar shouted and warriors parted to let her through. Elvar held her head high, knowing the honour Agnar was showing her, youngest of his warband.\n\nYoungest, and fiercest, she thought, and that was no easy claim, looking at the grim-eyed warriors she passed, all of them battle-scarred and heavy with sharp iron. She glanced over at the deck of the Wave-Jarl, saw the warriors left to guard it staring at her, and Kráka slumped across the prow, her sweat and sea-drenched black hair plastered to her head, like the collapsed wings of a crow. She shifted as Elvar passed her, turning to look at the young warrior, her thrall-collar and chain rattling. One of the ship-guards gave her a kick and she flinched, raising her hands. Elvar looked away.\n\nAgnar stood waiting. A black bearskin cloak was cast over his mail, silver torc around his neck and rings thick upon his arms, shield in one fist, his other hand resting upon a sword at his hip. At his belt hung a tattered, blood-crusted strip of wool. A thick band of his blond hair ran down the middle of his head, tied into a warrior-braid, the rest of his head shaved to stubble. He pulled on and buckled his helm as Elvar approached him.\n\nSighvat glowered at Agnar's shoulder, mail stretched tight across his bulk, a bearded axe hanging at his belt. He held a hemp sack flung over one shoulder, and in his other fist he gripped a chain. At the chain's end a man squatted, shivering and cowering, hair long and lank, eyes sunken to black pits, a tattered sealskin cloak wrapped around him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"With me,\" Agnar said to Elvar as she reached him, then he turned and strode along the pier, Sighvat dragging the chained thrall, Elvar and Grend striding behind them. The pier shook as the rest of the warband thumped along after them.\n\nAgnar lifted a horn to his lips and blew, the sound dragged by the wind, ringing mournfully across the beach.\n\nShingle crunched beneath Elvar's boots as they stepped from the pier and strode up the beach, a crowd forming before them.\n\n\"We are the Battle-Grim,\" Sighvat bellowed in his deep-bellied voice. \"We are the slayers of the vaesen, hunters of the Tainted, the reapers of souls. If you have not heard of our battle-fame, then we will gladly teach it to you.\"\n\nGrunts and laughter among the warriors at Elvar's back.\n\nThe crowd before them milled, muttered among themselves, maybe sixty or seventy villagers wrapped in sealskin and fur, some children clinging to legs, others peering from doorways. Among the crowd spears were held ready, some levelled. Elvar saw arrows nocked. She could seethe question in their eyes. Saw them hovering on that knife's edge of violence. They outnumbered the Battle-Grim and were lean and hard-looking. Elvar knew only the strong could survive this far north, where the world seemed to unite against the living and the vaesen were bolder. But as tough as these villagers were, they were not the Battle-Grim, steeped and honed in war and blood, and among those facing them Elvar could only see a handful holding shields, and none wore mail.\n\n\"Watch them with your hawk eyes,\" Agnar muttered to Elvar as he halted on the beach, Elvar, Grend and Sighvat behind him, the rest of the warband spreading wide." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"SHIELDS!\" Agnar called out and behind her Elvar heard the crunch of linden-wood slamming together, the shuffle and grate of boots on shingle as the line tightened.\n\n\"There is a man among you,\" Agnar shouted. \"Berak is his name. Tall, wide as a barn. Scars down one side of his face. A woman and child are with him. He would have arrived here maybe two or three days gone. Give him over to us, and your blood will not stain this beach.\"\n\nElvar watched faces, saw fear in some, saw pride, animosity, anger in others.\n\nAgnar pulled the tattered strip of wool from his belt and lifted it high.\n\n\"I will find him with or without your help. My Hundur-thrall has his scent. He will not escape me.\" Agnar dropped the blood-crusted rag to the man at the end of Sighvat's chain, who looked at the ragas if it were a poison.\n\nSighvat yanked on the chain around the thrall's throat.\n\n\"Hlýða,\" Agnar growled and a ripple of red veins tremored through the thrall's collar.\n\nThe thrall whimpered, then picked up the rag and buried his face in it, snuffling and snorting.\n\n\"Your choice is to help or hinder,\" Agnar continued. He looked at them all, pulled a pouch heavy with coin from his belt and cast it on the beach in front of him.\n\n\"Your choice is to prosper or die.\" Agnar shrugged, as if he cared not which of those choices they made.\n\nA tall man stepped forwards, wrapped in fur and sealskin, a spear in his fist, along knife at his belt, the hilt carved from walrus ivory. His beard was braided many times and bound with bone rings." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I am Hrut, Jarl of Iskalt,\" the man said.\n\nJarl! Elvar thought, looking him up and down. Where is your gold or silver? Where is your sword, your mail? You would not be allowed in a jarl's outhouse on the mainland.\n\n\"And I know of no Berak living upon my island,\" Hrut said.\n\n\"You do know him,\" Agnar said. \"But you may not know that he is TAINTED!\" He bellowed that last word, spittle flying. \"He is gods-touched and will bring only blood and slaughter upon you. Do not protect such as he.\"\n\nElvar saw movement towards the back of the crowd. A tall man with a spear and a cloak of stitched white-fox pelts draped across his shoulders was stooping to speak to a young girl at his side, surely little more than seven or eight winters. She nodded and scurried away across the beach, threading between the huts.\n\n\"There,\" Elvar said to Agnar, pointing with her spear at the speeding child.\n\nAgnar strode forwards, stepping around Hrut, but the jarl took a step to his right, placing himself in front of Agnar.\n\nAgnar stopped, looking over his shoulder at Elvar.\n\n\"Follow the girl,\" he said, then drew his sword and there was blood in the air. It was a move Elvar practised everyday, turning the draw into a diagonal strike, from left to right. Agnar disguised the manoeuvre behind his shield, realisation dawning in Hrut's eyes only as he saw the glint of steel. He had a moment to move his spear and stumble away, but Agnar's sword sheared through the spear haft and on, the sword tip cutting into Hrut's beard, slicing through his chin and lower lip. Blood sprayed, teeth flying." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Hrut bellowed with pain and rage and Agnar stepped in, his shield raised, sword stabbing.\n\nThe crowd behind Hrut yelled their outrage, many of them lowering spears and leaping forwards. Arrows hissed and whistled through the air.\n\nElvar burst into motion, bounding around Agnar and Hrut even as the Battle-Grim behind her yelled a war cry and advanced, weapons thumping on shields. There was a crunch of gravel behind, booted feet following her, and Elvar didn't need to look to know it was Grend. She sprinted around the fringe of the crowd, all of them focused on Agnar and Hrut, rushing to defend their jarl. A man with a nocked bow curled around the flank of his kinsmen, drew and loosed at the Battle-Grim. A scream from the beach. Elvar swerved, the villager seeing her only a fraction before she slammed into him. Her shield boss crunched into the side of his head and he dropped like a cut sail.\n\nElvar stood over him, searched for the girl, saw where she had disappeared among the huts on the beach. She ran on.\n\nThere was a movement to her right and instinctively she ducked and swayed, twisting to bring her shield around.\n\nA spear blade grated across her brynja, a spark of steel, then Elvar's shield rim was slamming into the spear shaft, sending the woman wielding it stumbling away. Elvar chopped with her sword, cut deep across her attacker's shoulder and back, slicing through fur and leather. Blood spurted and the woman yelled, staggering forwards, dropping to one knee. She swung her spear, the intent to hamstring Elvar, and then her head exploded, Grend's axe crunching into it. The spear dropped with a clatter to the shingle. Grend snarled, ripped his blade free, blood and brains spattering his face. A shared look, then Elvar was running on. She glimpsed Sighvat and the thrall following behind Grend, and also Biórr." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then Elvar was among the buildings, searching for any sign of the girl who had run from the beach. She stopped, holding her breath to listen. Screams drifted on the wind from behind her, the clang of iron. She shut it out, heard whispered voices, one deep, almost a growl, and she ran on. Twisting through a snarl of buildings, swerving around fishing nets hanging for repairs, she came to a door swinging on a hinge. A timber-framed hut to the rear of the village, the walls caked with clay and wattle and daub. It looked like it was only big enough for one room. Elvar slowed, hefted her shield, peered through the open door into shadowed darkness, glimpsed the soft glow of afire. Grend skidded up next to her and Elvar gestured for him to circle around the back of the hut. A silent nod and then she was moving, kicking the door hard, to slam into anyone standing behind it as she burst into the room, shield raised, spear high, twisting to defend against any lurking attacker.\n\nThe hut was empty.\n\nAfire pit had been scraped into hard earth in the centre of the hut, flames flickering. A pot hungover it, suspended from an iron chain. Fish stew bubbled. A table, three chairs, two straw beds. Elvar stabbed into the straw, then saw light leaking into the hut. A hole, low in the back wall, wide enough fora large man to crawl through.\n\nGrend's booted feet and grey-wool leg-wraps appeared.\n\nElvar kicked the wall, wattle and daub crumbling loose. Kicked again, more hard-packed clay falling, revealing the hazel rod wattle core. Grend's axe swung and a section of the wall crumbled." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They stood there, staring atone another.\n\nShe heard heavy breathing and the clank of chains behind her. Sighvat and the thrall appeared, Sighvat pushing through the doorway, his bulk blocking out the light. The thrall dropped into a crawling squat, nose to the ground, snorting.\n\nBiórr appeared, face flushed with battle and the sprint up the beach.\n\n\"Is it him?\" Sighvat grunted at the thrall. The man on the end of the chain crawled over to the cot and buried his face in the straw, sniffing deeply. He looked up at Sighvat and nodded.\n\nFootsteps. Agnar appeared in the doorway, his sword red to the hilt, warriors thick as smoke behind him.\n\nHe looked from Sighvat to the thrall.\n\n\"Where is he?\" Agnar grunted.\n\nElvar pointed through the hole in the wall. Grend was searching the ground for tracks.\n\n\"That way,\" the dour warrior said, straightening and pointing with his bloodied axe, towards the treeline and shadowed woods, Iskalt's mountain of fire dark and brooding.\n\n\"After them,\" Agnar said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Orka woke with a gasp. Fora moment she did not know where she was, could only see a vivid picture in her mind, of blood and battle, bodies falling around her, the roar of the sea, the sounds of violence. The battle cries and death screams were sharp and as clear as if she were standing in the middle of the bloody conflict, rather than lying upon a sweat-soaked mattress of straw in her own steading. She stared at the timber beams above and took along, ragged breath as recognition seeped into her. As the tension eased, she loosened her white-knuckled fist around a clump of her mattress.\n\nThe grey of dawn crept through shutters. Thorkel slept beside her, his hairy back to her, one foot out of the woollen blanket. His chest rose and fell in slow, gentle rhythm, a rumbling snore deep in his throat. Orka reached out to touch him, fingertips hovering over his skin.\n\nLet him sleep. Why burden him with my weakness.\n\nShe withdrew her arm and swung her feet over the side of the bed. Sat there awhile, head in hands, allowing her body to settle and the sweat to dry. She wished there was a jug of mead or ale at the bedside, felt the need for it in her bones. To dull the memories, the pain. She felt a flash of resentment towards Thorkel, as he had asked her to drink less. Then she pulled on a pair of woollen breeches, leather boots and a linen tunic, and padded across the room, opening the door slowly so as not to wake Thorkel. Her thought was to start a hearth fire and then wake Thorkel and Breca with some porridge, honey and cream, but as she walked into the hall of their cabin, which took upmost of the building, apart from hers and Thorkel's bedchamber, she knew something was wrong, like a tingling in her blood." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Where's Breca?\n\nShe looked to his cot, close to the burned-out hearth fire, where he liked to go to sleep with the blurred glow and crackle of embers in his eyes and ears.\n\nIt was empty, the woollen blanket thrown off.\n\nA trickle of ice in her veins; worry fluttering like wings in her chest.\n\n\"Breca,\" she called as she searched the hall, quickly looking behind tables, piled blankets, in cupboards. There was a sound behind her as Thorkel emerged from their chamber, barefoot, with breeches on and a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He was blinking, the muscles in his face not yet caught up with the fact that he was awake.\n\n\"You're making enough noise to wake the dead gods,\" he muttered.\n\n\"Breca's not here,\" Orka snapped, a coil of dread in her gut putting some bite in her words.\n\n\"Outside?\" Thorkel suggested. \"Fetching water, firewood?\"\n\n\"I do that in the morning. He sleeps until I wake him,\" Orka said.\n\n\"You do? He does?\" said Thorkel, frowning.\n\nOrka scowled at him. \"This, from the man who usually sleeps like a bear in his winter's cave until the smell of porridge wakes him.\"\n\n\"Fair enough,\" Thorkel shrugged. \"Still, he might be outside. Something might have woken him, like his bladder.\"\n\n\"He's not an old man, like you. He can hold his piss.\"\n\nThorkel opened his mouth, clearly thought better of it and disappeared back into the bedchamber. Here-emerged, boots on and tugging on a woollen tunic as Orka was reaching for her spear in a rack, throwing open the doors and striding out into daylight." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She stood on the first step that led down into their courtyard, scanning the steading. The woodshed, forge, charcoal kiln were all clearly empty and undisturbed.\n\n\"Breca,\" she cried as she hurried down the steps, mud soft under her boots. Past the herb and vegetable patch and beehive. She peered into the barn as she passed it, where their shaggy pony stood with his head over the stable door, regarding a hay bale with a two-pronged fork stuck in it, just as Orka had left it last night. Striding on, Orka stopped at the stream that flowed fast and clear through the steading, crouched beside a moss-slick rock. She stuck the butt-end of her spear into the icy water, jabbing it beneath an alcove under the rock.\n\n\"Spert, wake up,\" Orka grunted.\n\nA dark shape appeared, as long as Orka's arm and wide as one of Thorkel's tree-stump legs, uncoiling from beneath the rock and spreading into the stream. Its chitinous, segmented body straightened, tapering to an oily sting, sharp as a needle that curved over its back. A multitude of long legs clawed into the stream's bank and it crawled towards Orka, its head breaking the water.\n\n\"Food,\" the Spertus croaked, its voice like scratching dry skin. It looked up at Orka with a too-human face, bulbous eyes under grey sagging skin, and a mouth full of too many sharp-spiked teeth.\n\n\"Have you seen Breca?\" Orka asked the creature.\n\n\"Spert sleep until food,\" the creature muttered. It looked around, searching for Breca, who usually brought it a bowl of porridge mixed with blood and spit each morning. \"Hungry,\" it complained." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I should kill you, you useless creature,\" Orka grunted as she stood.\n\n\"Ungrateful,\" the creature grated, a hiss of scraping skin. \"Spert work hard. Spert protect you from vaesen.\"\n\n\"If you protect us, then where is Breca?\" Orka snarled.\n\nThe Spertus blinked.\n\n\"Can't watch everything, everyone, all the time,\" it grumbled. \"Have to sleep sometime.\"\n\n\"Orka,\" Thorkel called from behind her.\n\nShe stood and turned, and there was a splash and ripple of water as Spert submerged and returned to his chamber beneath the rock.\n\nThorkel was kneeling by the single gate that was built into the larger gates that were only ever opened when taking their pony and cart to Fellur with goods to trade. Otherwise they came and went by this single door. It opened with an iron latch-bolt. Orka ran to Thorkel, fear pounding in her head like a drum.\n\n\"He was here,\" Thorkel said, pointing at a clear boot print in the mud, half the size of hers. \"And he has used this gate.\" The iron bolt was drawn, the gate just pulled to. Thorkel pushed it open, looking out on the glade beyond their steading, bordered by woodland. There were more boot prints in the mud.\n\nPanic, like a viper's venom, flushed through her veins.\n\nVirk's words from Fellur village whispered in her head.\n\nChildren are being taken.\n\n\"Others?\" Orka asked. She was too full of anger and anxiety to read the ground. Her eyes searched the glade beyond their walls, tried to pierce the shadows beneath the woodland. \"Has he been taken, like Asgrim's boy, Harek?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No signs of anyone else,\" Thorkel said, rising. He passed through the rune-marked gates and turned left, Orka following. Thorkel had buckled on his weapons belt, seax and hand-axe hanging from it, and Orka had her spear.\n\nEnough to look after ourselves, if it comes to blood.\n\nThey padded across an open glade, a few patches of snow left among the grass that was wet with dew starting to steam as the rising sun washed the glade. Then they were passing beneath high boughs, moving north-east from their home, into a twilight world. Orka followed her husband, knew Thorkel was the better tracker. He loped along, every few heartbeats his eyes scanning the ground then flitting up ahead of them. Their path curled to follow the stream that flowed through their steading, moving steadily upstream, climbing a gentle slope. Orka looked above and to their flanks, searching for the tell-tale movements of vaesen or other predators, but saw nothing. The woods were silent and still, as if holding their breath.\n\nWhere is he? If someone or something has hurt him, I will...\n\nAn image in her mind of an axe falling, blood spraying.\n\nShe sucked in a deep breath, feeling the rage building, the ice in her veins tingling, with an act of will pushing it back down. Her son needed her, and all that mattered was finding him. A white-blinding anger would not help that.\n\nThe ground levelled and they crested a ridge and saw a pool spreading before them, its cold waters black and still. The stream that fed into their steading ran from here.\n\n\"Breca,\" Thorkel cried. A shadowed form crouched at the pool's edge." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Papa,\" Breca said, looking up at them, his small voice loud in the stillness.\n\nOrka sped up, passing Thorkel and running to her son, a flush of relief and joy melting the icicles of fear in her chest. Breca was crouched by the poolside. White lilies floated, pale as winter. Orka dropped to the ground and skidded up to Breca upon her knees, wrapped her arms around him, crushed him so tight in an embrace that he grunted and gasped.\n\nShe kissed his cheek, blinked tears from her eyes, stroked his unruly black hair.\n\n\"Come away from the water's edge,\" Thorkel said as he reached them, eyeing the water suspiciously. He sniffed. \"Smells like Näcken tome.\" He drew his seax and stabbed it into the soft loam. \"Move away,\" he repeated.\n\n\"Why are you out here?\" Orka breathed as she pulled Breca away from the water's edge.\n\nThe thought that a Näcken should not be this far from its mountain river entered her thought-cage, but it was pushed aside by her worry and relief at finding Breca.\n\n\"I heard a sound,\" Breca said as Orka released him. He looked down at his cloak, which was folded in his lap, and pulled it open.\n\nOrka gasped, fell back onto her backside.\n\nA creature lay curled in Breca's lap, maybe half the length of one of Orka's legs, if it stood upright. It had arms and legs with thick, pointed claws where fingers and toes should be, and fragile, parchment-thin wings wrapped about its torso. Blood leaked from beneath one wing, staining the skin. With a sharp nose and chin, it was hairless with large, black eyes and ink-dark veins threading pink, hairless skin, like a newborn rat. It turned its head, looked up at Orka and opened its mouth, which was very wide, revealing two rows of teeth, the outer one sharp, the inner row flat, like grindstones. A thin line of blood trickled from a cut on its lip." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"A tennúr,\" Thorkel said from somewhere above and behind Orka.\n\nOrka slipped to one knee and backhanded Breca across the cheek, throwing him flat on his back.\n\n\"You left our steading, left safety, for this,\" she snarled, rising to her feet. \"Vaesen lurk out here, and there are murderers and child-stealers.\" Wordless sounds escaped her throat. \"You witless fool, you could have been taken, eaten, killed.\" The fear of that filled her and she lifted her arm for another slap.\n\nThe tennúr still in Breca's lap spread its wings with a snap, shielding Breca, and it bared its teeth and hissed at Orka. Though it looked too weak to stand.\n\nThorkel caught her wrist, wrapped it in one of his huge hands.\n\n\"You've made your point.\"\n\nShe could have fought him, would have won, but long years had taught her to trust her husband's judgement, even when her blood was high and she didn't agree with him. Especially when her blood was high and she did not agree with him.\n\nBreca was looking up at her, the skin on his cheek already swollen and bruising. His eyes flickered to his father.\n\n\"It was a foolish thing, leaving the steading,\" Thorkel said, his voice and eyes hard. \"We are fortunate to have a son who still draws breath and who still has all of his blood in his veins.\"\n\nBreca's bottom lip trembled.\n\nThorkel sucked in along breath. \"How did you find it?\"\n\n\"I heard it scream,\" Breca said, looking at the tennúr, which had collapsed back into his lap again, wings once more wrapped tight about it. \"It's in pain.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "You could have been in pain. Or dead.\n\nOrka opened her mouth to scold him some more.\n\n\"It's quiet enough now,\" Thorkel said.\n\n\"That's because I gave it one of my teeth,\" Breca said and smiled, a gap in his gums proving the truth of his words.\n\n\"What!\" Orka hissed.\n\n\"You told me, tennúr love teeth. One of my first teeth is loose, so I pulled it out and gave it to her.\" He shrugged, putting a fingertip to the red hole in his gum. \"Another is growing through.\"\n\n\"Her!\" Orka said.\n\n\"Aye. Her name is Vesli. She told me.\"\n\nOrka shook her head. Thorkel whistled.\n\n\"Can we keep her?\" Breca asked, looking at them both with pleading eyes.\n\nThe sound of Thorkel's laughter echoed through the trees." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elvar blinked sweat from her eyes, her vision blurring fora moment as she searched the gloom.\n\n\"Halt,\" Agnar called out, about a dozen strides ahead.\n\nWarriors about her stuttered to a halt.\n\nElvar blew out a misted breath and wiped the sweat from her eyes, shrugged the shield from her back and set it down against a tree, then squatted beside a fast-flowing stream. Grend stood over her, then took a few steps into the gloom, eyes always searching.\n\nThey were high into the hills, snow falling heavily now, flakes drifting down through the canopy, thicker around the stream, its edge crackling with ice. Elvar tugged off a glove with her teeth and unstoppered her water bottle, drained it in one long draught, then leaned out and dipped the leather bottle into the stream's centre, where it was not frozen, refilling it. Water bubbled, so cold it felt like it was burning Elvar's fingers like fire. She took another long sip. The water was sharp as ice in her throat, and clear, the stones on the bottom of the stream shimmering with veins of colour.\n\nIt had been along, hard climb since the fishing village. Through a break in the trees Elvar could seethe village far below her, the Wave-Jarl moored in the bay, all of it blurred by the snow. A fence-line stood in a half-circle between the village and the trees. Wooden stakes, rune-marked to protect against vaesen. From this height she could still glimpse faint smudges on the beach, bodies and blood on the shingle marking the site of the battle.\n\nNot much of a battle, it was over almost as soon as it began.\n\nAgnar had slain the jarl, Hrut, and a dozen others had fallen against the Battle-Grim's shield wall. That had been enough to convince the rest of the villagers to throw down their weapons. The only casualty among the Battle-Grim had been an arrow in Thrud's calf. Elvar thought she could still hear his cursing drifting up to heron the wind and snow, his fury that he had been left behind. Agnar had left another dozen warriors with Thrud to watch over the prisoners, leaving twenty-six of them to follow their chief into the wooded and snow-shrouded hills." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"On your feet,\" Sighvat bellowed as Agnar took a few steps into the trees.\n\n\"Hundur, lead us on,\" Agnar said to the thrall, who squatted to sniff the ground, nose sifting through alight covering of snow, then bounded on, the chain fastened to its collar pulling tight as Sighvat lumbered after it. Elvar stoppered her bottle and hung it from her belt, pulled her glove back on, stood and slipped on a snow-and ice-covered rock. A hand grabbed her arm, steadying her, and she looked into Biórr's face. Without thinking she returned his easy smile. His grip lingered and she shook her arm free and slung her shield across her back. Grend stepped between Elvar and Biórr, glowering down at him.\n\nBiórr smiled and stepped away.\n\n\"Just helping,\" he said. He looked at Elvar. \"I don't think your father likes me.\"\n\nHe is not my father, she thought. Then they were moving out, into the shadows.\n\nThe path was narrow, following the stream on their left, but on the right the boughs were high, and the trunks spaced wide. Elvar picked up her pace and stepped from the path, padding across a thin covering of snow, made spongy with forest litter beneath, and moving up the line so she was closer to Agnar, Sighvat and the thrall. Grend followed, a few paces behind her.\n\nThere were more footsteps behind her and she glanced back and saw Biórr leave the path and head into the woods as well, his feet tracing her and Grend's boot prints.\n\nA dark mound appeared in the path ahead and the thrall slowed, stopped before it, sniffing. The mound was steaming, snowflakes drifting upon it and melting. Lumps protruded from it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elvar moved closer, afoul stench hitting her, clawing up her nose.\n\n\"Troll dung,\" the thrall said. It reached out, grabbed a lump jutting from the pile and pulled at it. A sticky slap sounded as it came free and the thrall held up a large bone, a leg or arm: Elvar could not tell for the excrement and slime that dripped from it. Afresh wave of stench hit, snatching her breath away, burning her throat, and she lifted her arm to her nose, fighting the urge to retch.\n\nAgnar stared into the woods, a scowl on his face. His head swept left to right, and then he saw Elvar wide on his flank.\n\n\"Elvar, Grend, Biórr, as you are so keen to lead, you can be the boar's snout and scout ahead.\" He said it with a grunt, but Elvar knew the honour Agnar was giving her. \"Stay within sight,\" he added.\n\nElvar nodded, felt a flush of pride and fear. Pride to be picked, fear that she might run into a full-grown bull-troll. Trolls were not to be sniffed at. The Battle-Grim had hunted them before, fora price, but not when they were at half strength, and running blind through a forest. Trolls were fiercely territorial, a male usually solitary unless there was a female in season close by, in which case males would compete for her affections, fight, mate and remain with her for the duration of her gestation and a month or two after his brood had been born. After that he would return to his territory.\n\nSo, there could be one, two or more, if the cow-troll has given birth. And newborn trolls were not much smaller than Elvar, strong and nimble when they were born, voraciously hungry. And notoriously fond of human flesh." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Let's pickup the pace." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I don't want my prize ending up in a troll's belly,\" Agnar said.\n\nElvar set off, veering back onto the path and breaking into a slow jog, Grend staying in the woods level with her, Biórr moving to her left, and then running parallel to the stream, his boots crunching in snow. Elvar felt her heart beating time as she loped ahead, eyes scanning the path and woodland. The path steepened and twisted, veering around rocks that were becoming more frequent. Something caught her eye, a silver line glistening in diffuse patches of daylight that filtered through the trees.\n\nA strand of cobweb, thick as Elvar's finger, ran from the rotted, hollowed trunk of a pine tree up into higher boughs. Elvar tracked it upwards, saw the cobweb spiral, spreading wide among the branches, dark husks hanging. Rats. A crow. A pine marten, big as a cat.\n\nFrost-spiders.\n\nElvar shrugged her shield from her back and into her fist as she ran, whistled, drawing Grend's and Biórr's eyes, and pointed with her spear.\n\nThere are too many of us, Elvar thought, but her eyes searched the boughs, just in case. She'd seen what a frost-spider's venom could do, freezing blood in veins and stopping the heart.\n\nSnowflakes as big as leaves drifted down about her, muting the sounds of the forest. Grend was a dark shadow flitting on her right, Biórr slower, navigating the snow and rocks of the stream's bank, which was becoming deeper and wilder, foam-flecked. Snow fell thicker about Biórr, the canopy thinner above the stream, which made his route slicker and harder to navigate." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That will teach him for following me. He has some stones, though, risking Grend's ire.\n\nElvar glanced back, glimpsed the thrall on the path, moving in a stooping run, Sighvat puffing like a bellows behind him.\n\nA sound filtered through the forest, a distant, constant hissing, like an angry cat. It grew louder. A waterfall? Whatever it was, Elvar was running towards it, her lungs and legs starting to burn, then anew sound pierced the forest. A huge, roaring bellow cutting through all else, fora few moments drowning out the roar of the waterfall.\n\n\"Troll,\" she said, an attempt at warning Grend and Biórr, but the word came out of her mouth a rasp rather than a warning shout. It wasn't needed, though; Grend and Biórr both heard it, judging by the way they slowed, their eyes flitting from the path ahead to Elvar.\n\nShe couldn't see anything but held her spear up as a warning to Sighvat behind, then she ran on, though more cautiously than before.\n\nThe path steepened, then levelled out and Elvar spilled out onto a snow-covered plateau, blinking as trees thinned about her. A torrent of molten fire plummeted down a granite cliff, like a waterfall, roaring and hissing, cascading into a molten pool that bubbled and churned. Snow fell upon it, melting and hissing, sending a permanent mist swirling into the air.\n\nOn the fire pool's eastern edge two figures stood, a woman and child, as close to the pool as they could bear, waves of heat rolling off the molten rock. And between Elvar and the woman and child were two others, one taller than the other." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A troll and a man.\n\nThey were fighting.\n\nThe man was broad and thick-bearded, wrapped in fur, his head roughly inline with the troll's belly. He held a spear two-handed, was jabbing and ducking as the troll swung a club of knotted wood, spiked with iron nails as long as Elvar's forearm. An explosion of turf as the club tore into the ground, the man leaping away, falling, rolling, staggering back to his feet, stabbing with his spear at the troll's leg.\n\n\"MINE!\" the troll roared, deafening, even over the din of the molten waterfall and fire pool.\n\nGrend stepped close to Elvar, Biórr just standing and staring.\n\nThe thrall loped up to Elvar's side, and there was a clink of chain as Sighvat huffed up the slope and into the open glade, sweating, cheeks red. He dumped the sack he'd been carrying onto the snow with a rattle of iron.\n\nAgnar and more warriors emerged from the trees, spreading wide around Elvar.\n\nThe troll was naked, a young bull, judging by the sharp, stubby antlers curling from its thick, moss-covered skull and its swollen testicles, swinging like two rocks in a sack. Tusks jutted from its lower jaws, legs thick as pine saplings, its scaled skin scabbed and patched with moss and lichen.\n\n\"MINE,\" it roared again.\n\n\"No, that man's mine,\" Agnar growled, though Elvar knew the troll was referring to the land. To its territory.\n\n\"MINE!\" the troll bellowed, spittle flying, eyes and veins bulging with rage, and it swung its club, the man stumbling away, the weapon crunching into a tree, a ripping sound as roots tore and the tree swayed, toppled. The iron nails stuck in timber, dragging the troll off balance, and the man stepped in and lunged with his spear, scouring a red line along the troll's ribs." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "With a bellow of pain the troll ripped its club free in a spray of splinters as it spun to face the man.\n\n\"Best be putting that troll down. I need that man,\" Agnar shouted. \"In pairs, no shield wall; it will only give the beast a better target.\"\n\nSighvat reached into the sack at his feet and pulled out a hammer and a thick iron pin, lifted the thrall's chain and dragged him to the nearest tree, then threaded the pin through the chain and hammered it into the trunk. He returned to the sack and pulled out anew collar and more chain.\n\nElvar stepped forwards, then paused as movement from the mother and child caught her eye. The mother took something from within her cloak, shaped like a wax tablet or parchment book, though Elvar had only seen a handful of those in her life, and all had been in the courts of wealthy jarls. The woman pulled her arm back and threw the item through the air, spinning high and arcing down into the pool of fire. Flames were erupting from it before it even touched the molten rock. A hiss and it was gone. The woman yelled something to the man fighting the troll, who bellowed back at her, and then the woman was tugging the child away, both of them breaking into a run and climbing a steep slope of scree, studded with pine, a twisting path among them. Elvar touched Agnar's shoulder and pointed at them.\n\n\"Good.\" He barked commands and four warriors ran for the slope and path.\n\nElvar hefted her spear and hurled it, but saw it skitter off the troll's scaled shoulder. With a hiss she drew her sword as Grend stepped close to her. Together they strode towards the troll and man, lifted their shields, locking tight, Elvar's sword raised high, pointing out over her shield's rim. The snow turned to sludge underfoot as they drew closer to the molten pool, waves of heat rippling across them. Other warriors moved forward in twos, scattered wide, approaching in a loose half-circle." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Someone hurled a spear, the blade slamming into the troll's back. It was well thrown and pierced the thick troll hide, but not deeply. Blood seeped in a line down its back, ran in the folds of muscle.\n\nThe troll roared its pain, reached around for the spear in its back, ripped it out and spun away from the man it was trying to crush, its slabbed brows knotting in confusion. It looked at the spear in its fist, then it saw these new warriors approaching it. Its face twisted and bunched, muscles bulging, veins and tendons in its neck standing rigid.\n\n\"MINE, MINE, MINE!\" the troll screamed, loud enough to make the world shake, and it broke into motion, thick nails on its huge three-toed feet sending up gouts of snow and earth. The sight of these new intruders in its domain must have sent it into a greater level of apoplexy, because it forgot it held a club and just lowered its head and charged with its antlers and tusks, as it would against a rival bull competing for mating rights.\n\nWarriors leaped away, but despite its bulk the troll was fast, and it clipped the shield of one warrior. His shield exploded like so much kindling and antlers and tusk punched through mail and skewered the warrior's torso. The woman he had been partnered with flew through the air and crashed into the molten pool. A scream cut short as she was incinerated with a hiss of sizzling flesh and then a few flakes of ash floated on the heat thermals.\n\nThe troll skidded to a halt, raised its head, the warrior impaled upon him screaming even as he chopped feebly at the troll's head with his axe. The troll grabbed the warrior's arm and shook his head, blood pouring like rain. A savage wrench, the warrior's screaming rising in pitch as flesh, tendon and muscle ripped, bone cracked, and then the warrior's arm was dangling in the troll's fist. It shook its head, muscles in its back and neck rippling, and the dying, whimpering warrior fell from its antlers, crashing into two more warriors." }, { "from": "human", "value": "More spears were hurled, one punching into the troll's shoulder, another lodging between its ribs." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Blood oozed like ichor. The troll screamed, lashed outwith its club, smashing another shield, breaking the arm of the woman holding it. She stumbled away, the troll following, club rising.\n\nElvar darted in, Grend following her. She moved in from the side, running as the troll's club whistled through the air and crunched down onto the woman with the broken arm. A wet slap, punctuated with the crunch of bones breaking, and she was gone, unrecognisable, just a pile of shattered bones in a sack of skin. Blood hung in the air like mist.\n\nAgnar ran at the troll's back, dropped his shield and leaped, stabbed two-handed with his sword into the troll's back, high. Elvar heard the grate of iron on ribs, Agnar's blade sinking deep.\n\nThe troll let out a scream that set snow tumbling from pine boughs, arched its back, arms flailing, Agnar trying to cling onto his sword hilt, failing and flying through the air.\n\nElvar ducked under pendulous testicles as the troll twisted and turned, trying to reach the pain in its back. She stabbed her sword into the troll's thigh, high, hoping that its body worked like hers.\n\nA fountain of blood jetted around her hilt as her sword found an artery and smacked her in the face, sending her sprawling, her sword still lodged. She stumbled away, Grend catching her, swinging his axe at testicles that slammed into them like a hammer, and they both fell to the ground.\n\nDark blood pulsed with the troll's heartbeat: three, four pumping spurts and the troll was swaying, sinking to one knee. It stared at Elvar lying on the blood-slushed snow." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Serve as the author's scribe, continue the tale.\nTags: fantasy, norse mythology, dragons\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: The Shadow of the Gods\nChapter: 9" }, { "from": "human", "value": "More spears were hurled, one punching into the troll's shoulder, another lodging between its ribs." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Blood oozed like ichor. The troll screamed, lashed outwith its club, smashing another shield, breaking the arm of the woman holding it. She stumbled away, the troll following, club rising.\n\nElvar darted in, Grend following her. She moved in from the side, running as the troll's club whistled through the air and crunched down onto the woman with the broken arm. A wet slap, punctuated with the crunch of bones breaking, and she was gone, unrecognisable, just a pile of shattered bones in a sack of skin. Blood hung in the air like mist.\n\nAgnar ran at the troll's back, dropped his shield and leaped, stabbed two-handed with his sword into the troll's back, high. Elvar heard the grate of iron on ribs, Agnar's blade sinking deep.\n\nThe troll let out a scream that set snow tumbling from pine boughs, arched its back, arms flailing, Agnar trying to cling onto his sword hilt, failing and flying through the air.\n\nElvar ducked under pendulous testicles as the troll twisted and turned, trying to reach the pain in its back. She stabbed her sword into the troll's thigh, high, hoping that its body worked like hers.\n\nA fountain of blood jetted around her hilt as her sword found an artery and smacked her in the face, sending her sprawling, her sword still lodged. She stumbled away, Grend catching her, swinging his axe at testicles that slammed into them like a hammer, and they both fell to the ground.\n\nDark blood pulsed with the troll's heartbeat: three, four pumping spurts and the troll was swaying, sinking to one knee. It stared at Elvar lying on the blood-slushed snow." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Mine,\" it said, like a confused child, and then crashed to its side in an eruption of snow, sighed, and was still.\n\nA victory cry rang out in the glade, the Battle-Grim shaking shields and spears in the air.\n\n\"Are you hurt?\" Grend asked, rising and offering her his hand.\n\n\"I... no,\" Elvar said, climbing to one knee and taking his wrist, pulling herself upright. She was covered in thick, steaming blood, but it was not hers. She strode to the troll and gripped her sword hilt, put a boot on its leg and heaved. With a sucking squelch the blade pulled free.\n\nShouts, another scream drew her attention and she whirled to seethe man who had been fighting the troll stabbing one of the Battle-Grim with his spear. The blade had scored a deep wound across a man's shoulder. As Elvar watched his shield arm dropped, and the spear stabbed into his throat, a burst of bright blood as he fell gurgling. Six or seven warriors pressed in about the fur-clad man, all with shields raised, a half-circle closing tighter. Sighvat was behind them, swinging a chain around his head.\n\nNow that the fur-clad man was stood close to other men and women rather than the troll, Elvar realised that he was huge, tall and broad, swathed in furs, his beard hanging almost to his belt. He swung his spear in vicious swipes, backing away from the shields closing about him.\n\nHe moved closer to the molten pool, heat battering at his back, the pool and waterfall hissing and deafening. Sparks flickered along his fur cloak, his hair sizzling as he took another step backwards. He stopped, face twisting, realising he was trapped. A shift in his eyes as he looked at the Battle-Grim closing about him. A deep breath, muscles tensing fora charge, and then Sighvat's chain crunched into his head, hurling him to the ground, his spear falling away. He pushed himself onto all fours, blood welling, pouring down one cheek. He rose to one knee, hand grasping for his spear. Sighvat pushed through the Battle-Grim and punched the fallen man on the chin, his head snapping back, and he fell again, rolled onto his side, spitting blood. Began to rise." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "How is he still conscious? Elvar thought. She had seen Sighvat in the pugil-ring. When he punched someone, they usually didn't get backup.\n\nAgnar appeared, striding over, his sword retrieved from the troll's back and dripping with gore. Elvar and Grend followed.\n\nSighvat was booming orders, warriors holding spears at the fallen man's throat while others pinned iron collars and chains around his wrists. A thrall-collar appeared in Sighvat's big fists as the prisoner was dragged to his knees, arms bound. Sighvat moved to place the collar around the man's neck, but his eyes bulged at the sight of the iron collar and he dragged two warriors holding his chains off their feet, started to rise.\n\nAgnar stepped forwards, his sword levelled at the man's throat.\n\n\"I would stay still, Berak, if I were you,\" Agnar said.\n\nThe big man froze, looked at the sword point at his throat, then up at Agnar.\n\n\"You have the wrong man,\" he said.\n\n\"No, you are Berak Bjornasson. I have tracked you along way.\"\n\nThe man shook his head.\n\n\"Take the chains; it is your best choice. Struggle again and I shall have Sighvat beat you bloody with the collar that you will be wearing. There is no escaping us. You must know this.\"\n\nThe man looked from Agnar to the warriors behind him, eyes flickering across Elvar and Grend. Over twenty warriors, all pointing sharp iron at him.\n\nHe lowered his head.\n\n\"I am not who you think I am.\"\n\n\"My Hundur-thrall says that you are.\" Agnar pointed his sword at the thrall still pinned to the tree. He looked over at them, his face creased with misery." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sighvat slipped the collar around the man's throat and tapped the pin in with the pommel of his seax.\n\n\"He is mistaken,\" the fur-clad man said, his shoulders slumping.\n\n\"Are you sure about him?\" Elvar whispered to Agnar.\n\nAgnar looked at her, frowned.\n\n\"Yes,\" he said.\n\n\"It is only, he is big, yes, strong, yes, but I have seen...\" Elvar paused, choosing her words carefully, as there were more ears than Agnar's around her. \"I have heard tales of the Berserkir. I expected... more.\"\n\nAgnar shrugged. \"Watch,\" he said, then looked away towards the slope, where warriors were returning with two captives, a woman and child. \"Bring them tome,\" Agnar said.\n\nThe woman and child were pushed stumbling to Agnar, their wrists bound with rope. Agnar grabbed a fistful of the child's unkempt black hair. He took his sword and touched its edge to the child's throat.\n\n\"No,\" the woman cried and Sighvat clubbed her across the shoulders, knocking her to the ground.\n\n\"Show yourself,\" Agnar said to the man, who returned his gaze.\n\nAgnar drew the sword back a half-inch, a red line trickling down the boy's neck.\n\n\"Don't,\" the man said. A shift in his voice, deeper, more a growl than a word.\n\nAgnar smiled. \"I will bleed him here, now; watch as his life spills onto the snow and you can see him flop and die like a gutted fish.\"\n\nElvar looked away. Killing children was not her way of earning her battle-fame." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Watch him,\" Agnar snapped at Elvar, and she focused on the prisoner on his knees.\n\nThe man closed his eyes, seemed to take in an impossibly long breath.\n\nAgnar jerked the boy's hair, a yelp breaking from his lips.\n\nThe man's eyes snapped open. They were flecked with amber, now, inhuman. As Elvar stared at him he seemed to swell, to grow, the furs about his shoulders and chest straining.\n\n\"Let him go,\" he snarled, and his mouth looked different, the tips of his teeth sharp.\n\n\"No,\" Agnar said, and twisted the boy's hair again. Another yelp.\n\nThe man lurched to his feet, roaring, and surged at Agnar, arms reaching, dragging six men and Sighvat along with him, as if they were puppies holding onto a wolf.\n\nOra bear.\n\n\"HALDA!\" Agnar bellowed, taking an involuntary step backwards.\n\nThere was a flash of red fire in the iron collar about the fur-clad man's neck and he stumbled another step, took another as if wading through water, then stopped. Froze. He glared at Agnar, every muscle in his body quivering as if he fought against some invisible restraint. His eyes were threaded with red veins, foam and blood on his lips where he was snarling and gnashing his teeth, his hands grasping. Elvar noted his nails had grown, become more like claws.\n\n\"On your knees,\" Agnar said.\n\nThe man glowered at him, a mad rage in his eyes.\n\n\"Á HNÉN!\" Agnar yelled and the fur-clad man dropped to the ground, panting." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The boy and woman were sobbing.\n\nAgnar looked at Elvar.\n\n\"You still have your doubts?\" he asked, a smile twitching his lips.\n\nElvar shook her head.\n\nAgnar looked back at the man at his feet.\n\n\"You are Berak Bjornasson, and the blood of the dead god Berser flows in your veins. You are Tainted, you are Berserkir, and you are wanted by three jarls for murder, blood-debt and weregild. And now you are mine,\" Agnar said, and smiled. \"You will fetch a fine price.\"\n\nHe looked around him, at the dead troll, at his warriors, both standing and fallen.\n\n\"Gather our dead. Butcher the troll. Bring all that is of value.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Orka sat on the steps of the hall at their steading, running a whetstone along the blade of her seax. She kept one eye on Breca, who was collecting eggs from the chicken roost. The lad was constantly looking from his task to a small handcart. It had a bandaged tennúr sitting in the back, propped upon blankets.\n\nThe steps creaked and Thorkel sat down beside her.\n\n\"That's a hard-thinking look you have upon your face,\" Thorkel said, leaning close to look into her eyes. He stroked a strand of blonde hair out of her face, streaked with iron. \"And I would like to know what is going on in that thought-cage of yours?\"\n\nOrka took her eyes from Breca and looked at him.\n\n\"I am thinking that you cannot say no to our son,\" she said flatly, looking pointedly back at the tennúr in Breca's cart.\n\nA twist of Thorkel's lips, a shrug of his shoulders. \"Aye, I maybe guilty of that, but then, he has your eyes, and I'm not remembering the last time I said no to you, either. You two have a strange power over me.\"\n\n\"You wouldn't daresay no tome,\" Orka said, notable to keep the hint of a smile from softening the hard line of her mouth.\n\n\"Ha, true enough,\" Thorkel grinned. He leaned closer and brushed her cheek with his lips, his beard tickling her.\n\n\"But you are too soft on him,\" she said.\n\n\"Or maybe it is that you are too hard on him,\" Thorkel breathed.\n\nOrka snapped a glare at him. \"It is a hard world, and we will not always be hereto protect him from it. We are not just his parents; we are his teachers, too.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Aye, we are,\" Thorkel agreed." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But he is ten winters old, and he has learned much already. Let him be a boy. Plenty of time yet before he steps out into that dark world.\"\n\n\"And what if that tennúr decides to cut our throats in our sleep, or we catch a fever and die? How will all your softness help Breca then?\"\n\nAnother shrug from the big man. \"The tennúr will not harm him, or us. We have seen enough of life's sharp edge. At his age I wore a thrall's collar and my back had been opened by a lash.\" He looked at Orka. \"Remember what we have seen and suffered. I would shelter him from that, while I can.\"\n\nOrka nodded and stopped sharpening her seax. The blade's edge gleamed, sharp as a razor. \"Aye, I feel that too. But I worry. We will not always be hereto protect him...\"\n\nThorkel wrapped an arm around her shoulder and squeezed her so hard she felt her bones grind.\n\n\"Ach, woman, you worry too much,\" he said, a finger tracing the sharp line of her cheek and jaw. \"Look around you. We live free; we are the masters of our own steading, no oaths or bonds to tie us. The air is clean and pure up here. Spring is upon us, the sun is shining, and we have a fine son to raise.\" He gave Orka a smile, and a look she knew well. \"I have been thinking, perhaps Breca would like a little brother or sister, to help him with his chores.\"\n\n\"Ha,\" Orka sniffed, \"it is dangerous when you think. Besides, we are too old.\"\n\n\"Old!\" Thorkel said, grinning now and stretching his arms wide. \"I feel like a young colt with green meadows before me. I will always be here, with you and Breca.\" He stamped afoot on the stair and snorted like a stallion. \"These are the days we dreamed of. Now that they are here, are real, let us enjoy them.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Orka shook her head. \"You are like rune-magic tome, Thorkel Ulfsson. How is it that we have faced the same horrors, fought the same battles? The terrible things we have done. And yet...\" She sighed. \"I do not feel like a young horse before green meadows. How are you so strong, where I am so weak?\"\n\n\"Weak? Are you moon-touched, woman? I would not challenge you to an arm-wrestle, let alone a holmganga duel.\"\n\n\"I do not mean physical strength, or skill with a blade. I mean strong here.\" She prodded her own head, hard, felt a ripple of anger flickering through her. Why could she not just rest, cut the ropes that moored the ghosts of the past to her?\n\nThorkel sighed, and she could seethe care in him leaking from his eyes.\n\n\"I make a choice, each and everyday,\" he said, his smile gone now. \"I think on what I have. On what is before me. You. Breca. And they make my heart swell and my head giddy. There is no room left for any dwelling on the past.\"\n\nShe looked at him then, his nose twisted from being broken too many times, his eyes dark and kind, deep lines around them. Leaning forward she put a hand behind his neck and pulled him close, kissed him hard.\n\nWhen she let him go Thorkel was grinning again.\n\n\"Ah, but I love you,\" he breathed. \"And I love my son.\" He looked over at Breca, a bruise purpling on his cheek where Orka had cuffed him. \"He has learned his lesson today.\"\n\n\"Has he?\" Orka asked, looking at Breca. He was pulling the handcart by a rope towards the stream, lifting out a bowl and squatting beside Spert's rock. The creature's grey-skinned head breached the water and regarded him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You're late. Spert dying of hunger,\" the creature grumbled.\n\n\"Here you go, then,\" Breca said, placing the bowl down on a rock beside the stream. \"Best eat before you collapse and die.\" The many-legged creature crawled out of the water, its segmented body glistening. Spert paused, lifted its head and sniffed, its spiked antennae twitching.\n\n\"Vaesen,\" it hissed, and abruptly its mouth seemed to grow, skin peeling back, the bones of its jaws protruding, opening wide, its teeth sharp and slick. It hissed, a black vapour issuing from its throat, becoming a cloud in the air.\n\n\"NO,\" Breca said, holding up a hand. \"It's only Vesli.\" He pointed at the wounded tennúr in the cart, who was staring at Spert, her lips drawn back in a blend of fear and threat, like a cornered fox.\n\nThe black smoke pouring from Spert's mouth stopped bubbling, hung in the air.\n\n\"She is injured, has been outcast by her pack. She is alone, just like you were.\"\n\n\"Don't trust vaesen,\" Spert muttered.\n\nBreca laughed.\n\n\"You're vaesen,\" he said.\n\n\"Huh,\" Spert grunted. \"Tennúr are sly, not to be trusted. They will steal your teeth.\" One of Spert's many legs rose and stroked his bristling fangs. \"Spert like his teeth.\"\n\nThe tennúr shifted in the cart, the blanket around her falling away to reveal the bandages Breca had wrapped around her wounds.\n\n\"Vesli be true,\" she said in a voice like the rustle and scrape of wind through leaves. \"Vesli swear oath to Spertus and Maður-boy.\" She looked from Spert to Breca. \"Vesli swear to be a friend to Spertus and Maður-boy. And friends don't steal teeth.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Spert stared at Vesli, his too-small, old-man face creased and thoughtful." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Swear it with blood, then. Blood is binding.\"\n\nVesli looked from Spert to Breca. With a shrug and ripple of her wings she placed a taloned finger against her palm and drew it slowly across her skin, blood welling. She bunched her fist, blood dripping.\n\n\"Vesli swear to be faithful and true, to the Maður-boy Breca, and to his guardian Spertus. Vesli swears it on her life-blood.\"\n\nSpert regarded her, then his body also rippled, like a shrug, and he took a deep breath, sucking back in the black mist that was hanging in the air. His head dropped into the bowl and he began to eat his porridge mixed with Orka's blood and spit, for it was she who had caught him and bound him to her, all those years ago. There was much slurping and sucking.\n\n\"It looks like he has anew pet to play with. As if Spert wasn't enough,\" Orka said, frowning.\n\n\"That evil little bastard is no pet,\" Thorkel said. \"But Spert does his job well enough. We all sleep safer for him. And that tennúr, it will be bonded to Breca now. It owes him a blood-debt, if it survives. I think he is safe enough. And besides, vaesen live along time and friends are good. Does it ease your mind that Breca will have a tennúr watching over him when we are food for worms?\" He smiled at her, prodded her shoulder.\n\n\"You won't be smiling so much when you wake up to find the little shite has stolen all the teeth from your gums.\"\n\nThorkel blinked at that and put a hand to his mouth." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Do you think she would?\"\n\nOrka sheathed her seax in its scabbard and stood.\n\n\"That thing you said earlier, about making a brother or sister for Breca...\" She held out her hand and Thorkel smiled up at her.\n\n\"We'd best be quick about it. Your smile won't charm me the same once it's just red gums and your teeth are in Vesli's belly.\"\n\nThorkel took her hand, pulled himself upright and they walked into their hall.\n\nA sound drifted through the steading. A horse's whinny, the jangle of harness and the steady rhythm of hooves.\n\n\"Breca, take your new friend inside,\" Orka called out as she stepped inside the hall and reached for her spear. She stood at the top of the steps, listening, as Thorkel disappeared into their hall. He reappeared with along-hafted axe in his fists, the haft as tall as him, the blade bearded and sharp. Orka stared at it, in her head heard an ear-splitting scream and saw a warrior silhouetted by flames swinging along-axe, gore dripping. She felt her skin prickle with sweat, then looked at Thorkel, saw that he had that flat, dead-eyed look, like a shark when it strikes.\n\nThorkel looked back at her.\n\n\"There are child-stealers in this land. They'll not betaking my son from me.\"\n\nA curt nod from Orka. She shook her head and gave a shudder of muscle through her whole body, as if shaking off memories like a horse does flies.\n\nTogether they strode to the gates as Breca swept the tennúr into his arms and ran up the steps into the hall." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The horses' hooves grew louder, more than one, and Orka strode to their gate, Thorkel at her shoulder." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A thumping on timber sounded, like a spear butt or sword pommel.\n\n\"Thorkel, Orka, open your gates,\" a voice called out.\n\nOrka reached them first. She pulled back a bolt and looked through a spyhole, then nodded at Thorkel. Together they shouldered the oak beam that barred the gates and dropped it. With a creak of hinges they swung the gates open.\n\nThree riders sat looking down at them: a young man and two women, all warriors, the man with a sword at his hip, belted over a fine brynja, a glistening bead of snot clinging to the end of his long nose. The other two wore boiled leather and wool, felt and fur caps on their heads. Spears rested in the crooks of their arms.\n\n\"Guðvarr,\" Thorkel said with a nod to the man. Orka saw the light return to his eyes. They both knew these three were not the child-stealers. They would not have been capable of putting Asgrim and Idrun in the ground.\n\n\"And what brings three drengr warriors to our gates?\" Orka asked. \"You area long way from Fellur.\"\n\nGuðvarr stared down at Orka, looking like he'd eaten something that had left a sour taste in his mouth. Orka wished he would wipe the snot from his nose.\n\n\"Jarl Sigrún is returned to us,\" Guðvarr said. \"She has called the Althing. Six days from now, on the Oath Rock in the fjord.\"\n\n\"You have come all this way to tell us that?\" Orka said.\n\n\"Aye. Serious matters are to be discussed. Jarl Sigrún wants all who live within her domain to be present, to hear what she has to say.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"And if we do not want to hear what she has to say?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Orka growled.\n\nGuðvarr blinked, as if that thought were an impossibility.\n\n\"Then you should find somewhere else to live,\" one of the other drengrs said, a tall, wiry woman with brown braided hair and a face of sharp ridges and angles. \"If you choose to dwell within Jarl Sigrún's realm, under her protection, then you will beat the Althing.\"\n\n\"Well said, Arild,\" Guðvarr grunted.\n\n\"Our thanks,\" Thorkel said. \"You are welcome to some food and drink, and to rest your horses. It must have been along, hard ride.\" He waved a hand, gesturing at the courtyard and hall.\n\n\"No,\" Guðvarr said with a shake of his head. \"We have three more steadings to visit, and then we are riding back for Fellur.\" Ashe tugged on his reins and his mount turned away, Guðvarr looked back over his shoulder.\n\n\"Six days, at the Oath Rock,\" he said, and then they were riding away across the glade, following a narrow path into the trees.\n\nThorkel and Orka closed the gates and barred them.\n\n\"I do not want to go to this Althing,\" Orka said. \"With Sigrún talking of Queen Helka, of jarls and queens and their petty squabbles.\"\n\n\"I do not want to go either,\" Thorkel said. He was tugging his beard, a distant look in his eyes. \"But we do not want to attract attention, either, by staying away. It will be noted, if by no one else then by Guðvarr.\"\n\n\"He is an arseling,\" Orka growled." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Aye, that he is,\" Thorkel agreed. \"An arseling who will flap his lips about us. I say we go to this Althing, keep our heads down and our lips stitched shut, and then leave quietly.\" He shrugged. \"A voice in my thought-cage is telling me we need to hear what Sigrún has to say. If Helka has her eyes on Fellur and these hills...\"\n\nThey shared a look as Breca stuck his head out of the hall, the tennúr cradled in his arms.\n\n\"We'll go to Sigrún's Althing, then,\" Orka said, blowing out along breath and nodding her head, though she felt a wyrm of fear slithering in her belly. She had seen that look in Thorkel's eyes before, and it had never meant anything good." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elvar woke shivering, muted light glimmering in her eyes. Her back ached, stones from the beach felt through her cloak and mail. The rhythmic ebb and flow of wave over shingle was the first sound she heard. Above her an awning rigged with spear-shaft posts was heavy with last night's snowfall, a spare sail used to provide some kind of protection against the weather. She rolled and crawled out from under it.\n\nThe sun was rising behind her, molten bronze gilding the hills and mountain that dominated this island, and to the west, over the sea beyond the rise and creak of the moored Wave-Jarl, the sky was a pale, cold blue, the wind off the bay feeling like shards of ice scraping across her skin. The sea moved sluggishly, patches of ice that the spring thaw had broken free from the Frost-Isles further north floating thick and churning on its surface. In the distance she saw the silhouettes of other islands, like the humped backs of submerged giants. White-flecked waves lapped the shore.\n\nI hate the north. She stood and stretched, the sealskin cloak she had used as a blanket falling open as she rolled her shoulders, adjusting the weight of her brynja. They were still on the beach at Iskalt, and though the villagers were subdued and kept under guard until they left, she felt safer in her coat of mail.\n\nOther shapes still slept beneath the awning. She saw Biórr's long boots poking out, that others laughed at. Higher up the beach she saw Grend was crouched beside afire, ladling porridge from an iron pot into wooden bowls. He saw her and strode over, shingle crunching beneath his boots.\n\n\"Snow's passed,\" he said, handing Elvar the porridge. She wrapped her hands around the bowl, heat seeping through her nålbinding mittens." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You were supposed to wake me for last watch,\" she said with a scowl." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her body was grateful for Grend's kindness, after the fight with the troll and hard climb into and out of the hills, but she had not risen to her position in the Battle-Grim through avoiding duties. She was the one who always did more, and now she had earned her place in the front row of the shield wall.\n\nKindness makes you soft, her father's words whispered.\n\nShe blew on her porridge and spooned some into her mouth, enjoying the warmth.\n\n\"I couldn't sleep,\" he shrugged. The black circles around his eyes betrayed him fora liar. He was no young warrior anymore, the winters laying heavy upon his back, though he could most likely still put anyone of the Battle-Grim on their arse, even Sighvat. Elvar had seen him do it, when the mead was flowing around a hearth fire and the warriors were bragging, hurling their challenges like spears. Grend never bragged. He did not need to. Just looking into his eyes was enough.\n\nThere was a rumble, like distant thunder, but Elvar felt it rise up through her boots, a tremor in her bones, stones on the beach shifting like sand through fingers. In the distance the slopes of the fire mountain heaved, trees rippling, banks of snow falling and the red veins of molten fire flared bright. Elvar felt a rush of fear, the world seeming to pause as all on the beach stopped what they were doing and stared at the mountain.\n\nAnd then the world returned to normal, the rumble fading like a distant storm.\n\n\"Lik-Rifa chafes at her chains,\" Grend muttered.\n\n\"The dragon-god is long dead, if she ever lived,\" Elvar replied.\n\nGrend looked at her as if she were moon-touched. \"All know she did not die on the day of Guðfalla with the other gods,\" Grend grunted. \"She was trapped by deep-cunning in a chamber beneath Oskutreð, the Ash Tree, and so could not stand beside her father, Snaka.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Elvar shrugged." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And what would a dragon find to eat for nearly three hundred years in a chamber of stone and root and soil?\" Elvar snorted. \"If she ever lived, she is surely dead of starvation.\"\n\n\"She tears at the souls of warriors as they pass through her chamber on the soul road,\" Grend said, \"all know this. This is why we must die with a weapon in our fists, to fight her as we pass through Vergelmir, her dark chamber. It is the warriors' last test.\"\n\n\"A faery tale to make children behave,\" Elvar said, remembering the stories her father had told her and her brothers of Lik-Rifa, and how she would eat children who strayed from their homes at night.\n\n\"Then how do you explain that?\" Grend said, nodding at the red-veined mountain. \"Did you not feel the earth move?\"\n\n\"Because I do not know the reason fora thing, does not mean that a dragon-god did it,\" Elvar said.\n\n\"This is why you have no friends,\" Grend huffed and shook his head.\n\n\"Huh,\" Elvar grunted and went back to her porridge.\n\nAs she ate, she searched the beach and saw warriors from the Battle-Grim emerging from village huts, many rolling barrels of pickled fish and brine-salted shark meat down to the pier and the Wave-Jarl. Two men carried a rope-tied bundle of walrus ivory. Others hefted rolled furs on their shoulders, pelts of bear and reindeer and arctic fox. Two warriors herded a half-dozen bleating goats down the beach to the pier. Agnar appeared in his black bearskin cloak, Sighvat behind him, leading the Hundur-thrall and the new captive, Berak, by chains, a dozen Battle-Grim warriors following them. Other warriors appeared, escorting Berak's wife and child onto the beach." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Agnar saw Elvar and changed his course, striding towards her as Sighvat put a horn to his lips and blew, the sound loud and melancholy, echoing along the beach. All who were still clinging to sleep beneath the Wave-Jarl 's spare sail were awake now, crawling out onto the shingle and grumbling at the cold. Spear shafts were taken down and the sail rolled. Elvar saw Biórr rise to his feet, bleary-eyed, black hair a tangle. He saw her and dipped his head, gave her a smile.\n\n\"I don't like him,\" Grend growled.\n\n\"You don't like anyone who likes me,\" Elvar replied.\n\nGrend shrugged, not disputing that fact.\n\nAgnar stopped before Elvar and Grend. He reached inside his cloak and pulled something out, opened his palm. It was one of the troll's tusks, long as a knife, a hole bored in one end with a leather thong threaded through it. He lifted it over Elvar's head and placed it about her neck.\n\n\"You did well,\" Agnar said, then walked on. Sighvat followed, the Hundur-thrall walking with head bowed and shoulders slumped. Berak, the new prisoner, had his eyes fixed on his wife and child, who were being led towards the pier. The iron collars around his neck and wrists had rubbed his skin raw.\n\nElvar grinned at Grend, feeling her chest swell with pride as she lifted the tusk and looked at it. A troll's tusk was worth more than its weight in gold, but Elvar did not care about that. It was the honour Agnar gave her, the battle-fame she had earned that set afire in her chest. All around her the Battle-Grim were looking and nodding. They all wore some kind of trophy from a kill, a bone or tooth, a tusk, a nail, all gifted to them by Agnar when he thought they had earned it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Little more than three years I have sailed with the Battle-Grim, and climbed high as any in that time.\n\n\"You struck the killing blow,\" Grend said, a smile even touching the corners of his mouth, the glint of teeth within his grey-streaked beard. \"It is only just.\"\n\nElvar gave Grend her empty bowl and walked to the makeshift tent where the sail had already been rolled, retrieving her shield and spear. Grend strode past her, squatted in the foam and washed the bowls out. At the end of the pier warriors were boarding the Wave-Jarl, loading barrels and pelts. Elvar saw the captive woman and child sitting and waiting at the pier's edge, the boy dangling his legs over the shingle and foam.\n\nBiórr approached them with two bowls of steaming porridge and offered them to the woman and child. Cautiously the woman took a bowl and said something to her son. Biórr crouched and gave him his porridge.\n\nThen Agnar was bellowing orders and everything became a whirl of activity, warriors boarding the Wave-Jarl, stepping from the pier's boards over the top-rail and onto the ship's decks. Elvar strode from the beach to the pier, pasta rack where the butchered troll's skin had been scraped of fat. Beside the rack sat a sack piled with the troll's skeleton, its flesh boiled from its bones. There were barrels packed with the valued parts of the creature, its skin rolled, teeth in a clay jar, the testicles in brine, heart and liver in a barrel hard packed with ice. Toenails for grinding into powder. All of it would fetch a good price.\n\nElvar stepped lightly from the pier onto the ship's deck, shuffled around the goats that were being herded to the rear of the ship and penned beneath an awning of spare sail. She stacked her spear in the racks amidships, exchanging them for her oar, and then made for her chest. In the curve of the bow, beneath the drakkar's prow, Kráka the Tainted thrall was curled in sleep." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elvar reached her chest and wedged her shield into the rack pinned along the top-rail's rim, tugged off her mittens, unbuckled her weapons belt, wrapped it around her sword, axe and seax, then opened her chest and lay them inside. She took off her other belt, which held her pouch of kindling and medicine pouch and also helped to take the weight of her mail, and placed that in the chest too. Bending over she wriggled out of her brynja like a snake shedding its skin and wrapped the mail coat in sheepskin. Then she was closing the lid, pinning her sealskin cloak about her with an iron brooch and tugging her mittens back on.\n\nAll those around her were going through the same process, warriors stacking and storing provisions, loading their chests, storing their weapons and mail. Sighvat was at the rear of the deck, securing the two collared thralls with iron rings and pins hammered into the top-rail. The woman and child were pushed under the awning to sit with the goats.\n\nSomething drew Elvar's eye, in the water off the starboard side of the drakkar. Lumps of ice moved there, and one lifted against the swell of the outgoing tide. A splash, a ripple and awake of white foam.\n\n\"WARE THE WATER!\" Elvar yelled.\n\nA moment's silence passed as heads turned to her, even as she was leaping from her sea-chest and running for her spear. Then there was an explosion of ice and sea spray as a shape burst from the water, a serpentine body, its scaled head as big as one of the huts on the beach, mouth gaping with rows of razored teeth, soft flesh inside its mouth a deep, blood-flushed red." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"SJÁVARORM!\" Agnar bellowed as the sea serpent's head struck at the awning where the goats were bleating. Blood and screams as the jaws clamped tight, the head rearing with a mouthful of bloodstained sail and half a shredded goat dangling. The other goats leaped away, the captive woman and boy hurled indifferent directions.\n\nSpears flew at the serpent, some piercing its sinuous, grey-green hide, dark blood oozing. Its head reared high, jaws opening as it swallowed the half-goat into its throat, then its head and part of its body crashed down on the deck, the top-rail splintering, ship pitching wildly, voices screaming. Sighvat stomped forwards and swung a hand-axe that crunched into the serpent's body, just below the base of the skull. The serpent thrashed, slamming into Sighvat and sending him flying from his feet, then slithered the other way and connected with the captive boy, who was trying to reach his mother. He was hurled into the air and flew over the ship's side into the sea.\n\nBerak the Berserkir roared and leaped after his son, the chains around his neck and wrist yanking him back. He thrashed and screamed, but the chains held tight.\n\nWithout thinking Elvar found herself leaping onto the top-rail, searching for any sign of the child. A shadow beneath the waves, sinking, then she was dropping her spear, sucking in a deep breath and leaping into the sea.\n\nShe heard Grend's voice, shouting her name.\n\nIce water, so cold it felt like a vice, crushed her chest. She saw the child, looking up, eyes bulging, arms reaching, and she kicked her feet, clawing her way towards him. Fingertips touched, then with another kick of her feet she had his wrist; she turned in the water and swam for the surface. The body of the serpent was close by, thick as a tree, descending into watery murk. Then she was breaking water, gasping cold air into her lungs as the serpent reared back from the Wave-Jarl 's deck and crashed back into the water, a wave that sent her and the child surging away from the ship." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A figure leaped from the ship's deck; there was a splash as Grend hit the water, taking powerful strokes as he swam towards her.\n\nThe boy had his head above water, was shouting, calling for his mother or father, Elvar thought, and thrashing in the water like a speared seal.\n\nThe serpent heard, its head snapping round, black eyes focusing on them. With an undulating ripple through its body it was speeding towards them, its muzzle cutting through water like a drakkar 's prow, awake lifting Grend high. He bellowed, swam harder, but Elvar knew he was not going to reach her before the serpent. He changed course, veered in towards the sea creature, crashed into its body and dragged a knife from his belt, stabbing frantically. The sea frothed red, but the serpent took no notice.\n\nElvar reached fora weapon, found nothing, then remembered she'd packed her weapon's belt into her sea-chest.\n\nI'm going to die.\n\nFear swept through her, the serpent's jaws opening, water dripping from rowed fangs.\n\nShe gritted her teeth, cursed the serpent as it sped at her, sucked in a breath as she prepared to dive beneath the waves with a foolish hope of evading the serpent's jaws.\n\nA ripple ran through the creature's body, and anew sound filtered over the waves, a high-pitched, keening song. The serpent's head turned, rising from the water, its body slowing as it looked back at the ship.\n\nA figure stood on the top-rail, a woman, and she was singing.\n\nThe serpent's head hovered above the water, its body coming to a standstill, just floating on the sea swell. Then it let out a stuttering hiss and dived beneath the sea, the bulk of its body rising and then sinking, a spray of water from its tail, and in heartbeats the sea was calm, as if the serpent had never been." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Grend reached her, wrapped an arm around her and dragged them towards the ship. A rope was thrown down for them, arms reaching, pulling them upon to the deck, where Elvar flopped like a fish, gasping and shivering.\n\nThe boy's mother ceased her singing and ran to her son, prising him from Elvar's arms, hugging him tight, the boy sobbing.\n\n\"Fool,\" Grend muttered as he fell over the top-rail and lay beside Elvar, then he sat and looked at her. \"Are you hurt?\"\n\n\"No,\" she said, \"though I can't feel my toes.\"\n\n\"I hope the fish have chewed them off and taught you a lesson. Fool.\"\n\n\"You followed me. What does that make you?\" Elvar said, grinning.\n\n\"An even greater fool,\" Grend muttered.\n\nA hand touched Elvar's cheek: the boy's mother.\n\n\"Thank you,\" the woman breathed.\n\nElvar nodded, looking into the woman's eyes. Pale, grey-blue like the sea on a wind-calm day. Her hair was fair, face pale; a glimpse of blue tattoos spiralled beneath the tunic and cloak pulled tight around her neck.\n\n\"What did you throw into the molten pool?\" Elvar asked her, her voice quiet and low.\n\nThe woman blinked, her lips hardening, and she stared back at her.\n\nAgnar appeared over them, looking at the boy's mother.\n\n\"So, you area Seiðr-witch, with Snaka's blood in your veins,\" he said, a smile splitting his face. \"If the gods were not all dead, I would think they were smiling on me.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The woman said nothing.\n\nAgnar's eyes narrowed. \"Use your powers on my crew and there will be nothing left of your son to feed a serpent,\" he said.\n\nThe woman held his gaze and gave a curt nod.\n\nAgnar smiled.\n\n\"Dry clothes for them,\" he called out, then he turned and strode along the deck, past pools of blood and water as warriors set about clearing pieces of goat from the deck and checking the hull's strakes where the serpent had crashed into the ship. Agnar approached the Wave-Jarl's prow, a rune-carved dragon glaring out at the sea, where Kráka the thrall sat, staring up at Agnar.\n\nHe pulled an arm back and slapped her face.\n\n\"Your task is to protect my ship and crew from sea vaesen,\" he growled.\n\n\"I am sorry, lord,\" Kráka said, blood leaking from her lip. \"I was not prepared, was asleep.\" She shook her head. \"I have sung a protection all the long way here.\" Her face was grey as an ash tree, with deep-sunken lines as if her face was melted wax.\n\nThe Seiðr-song takes its toll.\n\nAgnar lifted his hand to strike Kráka again, but paused and lowered his arm.\n\n\"Perhaps I have asked too much of you.\" He dropped one of the troll's antlers into her lap, her long, bony hands stroking the soft, velvet-covered prongs.\n\n\"Some power for you,\" he said. \"For the journey home.\"\n\n\"Thank you, lord,\" she breathed.\n\n\"See us through these waters,\" Agnar said, touching his fingers to the iron chain that bound her, \"and keep the serpents from our hull.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She looked up at him.\n\n\"Hlýða og fá verðlaun,\" he grated in the Galdur-tongue, veins of red tracing the cold iron, a map of fire around Kráka's throat.\n\n\"Yes, lord,\" she said, nodding.\n\nAgnar turned and strode back to the tiller, the ship cleared now, the surviving goats penned, and men and women sat at their sea-chests, waiting.\n\nElvar stripped out of her wet clothes and pulled on wool breeches and tunic, then made her way back to her sea-chest, sat and drew in a deep breath. Her blood was still speeding through her veins, the thrill of standing in death's shadow, the elation at cheating death, a flood of her senses, the joy of being alive. Grend satin front of her and gave her one final dark look.\n\n\"OARS!\" Sighvat cried and Elvar swivelled the oar-plug that covered the oar-hole, threaded her oar through it and sat on her chest, holding the oar hovering above the swell and slap of the waves.\n\nThe mooring rope was loosed, and spears pushed them away from the pier, the outgoing tide tugging them into deeper water.\n\n\"OARS!\" Sighvat bellowed and fifty oars bit into the cold sea.\n\n\"PULL!\" and Elvar was moving, back and shoulders put to the heave and roll as Sighvat found a knotted line of rope and beat time on an old shield. The drakkar moved sluggishly at first, pulling out into the bay, then picking up speed, cutting a white wound through the green-black waters, an ice-wind from the north carving tears from Elvar's eyes, though her body was warm in fifty heartbeats, and soon after sweat was steaming on her brow." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They passed through the curling arms of black-granite rock that formed the bay, the seals and puffins still there. And then they were pulling out into open sea, the wind slamming into the starboard, waves abruptly higher. Elvar spied movement in the water, the swell and slither of things beneath the waves as Agnar wrestled the tiller, then the prow turned southwards and Kráka began her serpent-song. It cut through the hiss of the wind and roar of the sea, spreading like a net, and the hint of things beneath the waves faded.\n\n\"MAST!\" Sighvat yelled, and a dozen warriors shipped their oars and jumped to the deck, slotting the mast into its hole amidships, wedges hammered into place to hold it steady, while others tugged on the halyard rope and raised the yardarm, the Wave-Jarl 's white sail unfurled, hanging limp like an empty mead skin fora few heartbeats as the rigging was tied off, then catching the north-westerly that was ripping through this channel among the islands, and the drakkar leaped southwards like a sea stallion.\n\n\"OARS!\" Sighvat bellowed, and Elvar lifted her oar from the water, pulling it back in, water dripping, and set it amidships. She sat on her bench and sucked in deep breaths, feeling the burn in her back and shoulders slowly fade.\n\nA figure sat next to her and she looked up to see Agnar. He was grinning, as he always was when they were at sea. Sighvat stood by the tiller and rudder, steering them southwards.\n\n\"You are either very brave, or very crazy, maybe even moon-touched,\" he said, shaking his head, \"leaping into a serpent-infested sea.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Elvar shrugged, not sure which one it was." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Courage or madness.\n\nMaybe madness. I do not take the time to think about it. Can that still be courage?\n\nAgnar took a gold ring from his arm and slipped it around Elvar's upper arm, squeezing it tight.\n\n\"My thanks, lord,\" she breathed.\n\n\"Courage and madness in the face of vaesen-serpents are both admirable qualities, and deserve rewarding,\" Agnar said.\n\nHis smile faded.\n\n\"You should know, I am planning on taking our prize to Snakavik. Jarl Störr is famed for his Berserkir thrall-guard, and I am thinking he will give us the best price.\"\n\nElvar stared at Agnar. She felt like a stone had just been dropped into the pit of her stomach, dousing the joy she had felt at Agnar's ring-giving.\n\nAgnar shrugged. \"Best you know now. Will this be a problem to you?\"\n\n\"No,\" Elvar said when she found her tongue, though the churning in her belly told her different.\n\n\"Good,\" Agnar said, standing. \"You have climbed high in the Battle-Grim,\" he said. \"Think of this as another battle, but one you fight with your wits and cunning, not the edge of your blade.\"\n\nElvar nodded and Agnar walked away.\n\nGrend turned on his sea-chest and just stared at her.\n\n\"We are going home then,\" she said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Orka climbed the winding path that led to the Oath Rock. A westerly wind hissed across the island in the fjord and whipped the waters around it, sending white-tipped waves onto the beach before the village of Fellur. Orka paused, and looking back saw a host of boats rowing across to the Oath Rock island, mostly fishing boats and light snekkes, though Orka saw a drakkar pull away from the village's pier. Thirty oars made fora small drakkar, though its hull and strakes were sleek and wolfish, the prow tall and proud. Seeing it stirred Orka's blood.\n\nJarl Sigrún and her drengrs.\n\n\"Come on, Mama,\" Breca said, pulling at her sleeve. He was excited at his first Althing, and Thorkel was striding ahead of them, disappearing around a curve of moss-covered rock. Orka grunted and walked on, following a path that twisted up through bracken and wind-blasted trees until it levelled out and spilled into a clearing. The remnants of a huge, rune-carved stone stood there. It had stood taller, once, but now it was smashed to little more than a stump, the faint angles of runes barely visible in the jagged shards of its base.\n\nBreca gasped as he saw the rock, then frowned.\n\n\"What's wrong?\" Thorkel said as he leaned against the trunk of a twisted hawthorn tree. He wore his grey nålbinding cap and a wolfskin cloak over his woollen tunic, a seax and hand-axe hanging at his belt.\n\n\"It's smaller than I thought,\" Breca said.\n\n\"Well, it was bigger once. Maybe as tall as a mead hall,\" Thorkel said. \"It has been smashed with hammers.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That is a shame,\" Breca said.\n\nThorkel raised an eyebrow.\n\n\"Why destroy something that someone cared enough to build?\" Breca said.\n\n\"Ha, that is some deep-thinking, there,\" Thorkel smiled. \"Hmm, some take pleasure in destruction. But this is different. This was an oath stone, where humankind swore their blood oaths to the gods, pledged their allegiances, worshipped them. And worshipping the dead gods is forbidden, now, punishable by death.\"\n\nAn image flashed through Orka's mind, of a woman hanging in an iron cage, ravens picking at her eyes and tongue.\n\n\"That doesn't seem fair,\" Breca said. \"What harm can it do?\"\n\n\"What harm?\" Thorkel laughed. \"The dead gods caused a lot of harm, most would say. They broke the world. That is why they are hated, why when the few survivors of the Guðfalla emerged from the ruin of Snaka's fall they hated and hunted the offspring of the gods, those whose blood was tainted with the gods\" bloodlines.\"\n\nBreca chewed his lip as he thought about that.\n\n\"Then why do they hold the Althing here?\"\n\n\"Another good, deep-thinking question,\" Thorkel shrugged. \"Perhaps because the past runs deep in our blood and bones,\" he muttered. \"A rope we cannot see, binding us to it, whether we like it or not.\"\n\nOrka could see by the frown on his face that Breca didn't much like that answer. She stood by her husband, letting the hawthorn tree and Thorkel's bulk shelter her from the worst of the wind's bite. She nodded a thanks to Virk, the fisherman who had invited them onto his boat, along with his two sons Mord and Lif, and rowed them over to the Oath Rock." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The clearing was filling with people, come from many leagues around for this Althing. Tents filled the meadows around Fellur, as the Althing could goon fora number of days and all who lived within the boundaries of Jarl Sigrún's land were supposed to attend, or at least a representative from every family. Orka saw fisherfolk and farmers, tanners and blacksmiths, shipwrights and leatherworkers, all manner of people who dwelled within the boundaries of Jarl Sigrún's domain, and that had been growing each year, along with the fair-fame of her name.\n\nOrka caught Virk's eye and she beckoned him over.\n\n\"Our thanks,\" she said, \"for rowing us over.\" She offered him a nugget of hacked bronze.\n\n\"Keep it,\" Virk said, \"and think kindly of me when you next bring your pelts to the village.\"\n\nOrka nodded. \"That we can do, as long as we have a seat on your boat back to shore when this is done.\"\n\n\"That would depend on how kind you will be with your pelts,\" he smiled.\n\n\"Tell me,\" she said, leaning closer and whispering, \"is there any word of Asgrim's boy, Harek?\"\n\nVirk's smile withered and he shook his head.\n\n\"Guðvarr sent some scouts to the river, where your husband followed the tracks. But no more than that. No boats sent down the rivers, no hounds.\" He shook his head. \"He did not care. Asgrim and Idrun were freedmen, had as much right to justice as any, but...\"\n\nOrka knew. She remembered Guðvarr's words." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They were asking for trouble, Guðvarr had said. Orka felt her lip curl in anger at the memory of it. Asking for trouble, as if living a life apart from the village makes us less.\n\n\"And other children?\" she asked Virk. \"You said Harek is not the first child to betaken.\"\n\nVirk shrugged. \"The Haraldursons from Howbyr, they had two daughters and a son taken, their cots empty in the morning, just gone. And a family in Kergarth, I forget their names. Found dead, like Asgrim and Idrun, and their sons missing.\" He looked at her. \"That does not sound like a coincidence tome.\"\n\nOrka nodded. Howbyr was tenor twelve leagues north, and Kergarth was six leagues east along the coast.\n\n\"There are other rumours, of more children taken, but I do not know for sure.\"\n\n\"It must be niðing, lawless men,\" Orka said, \"stealing children and selling them on as thralls.\" An image came to her mind of Breca being snatched in the night, dragged away. An iron collar snapped around his throat. Wings of fear fluttered in her chest, followed by a shiver of anger. She rested a hand on Breca's shoulder.\n\n\"I agree,\" Virk said. \"Maybe we should try hunting them, see if we can do better than Guðvarr. That shouldn't be hard: he is a pup playing at being a jarl.\"\n\n\"Catching thieves and killers is different from catching fish,\" Orka said.\n\n\"I have not always been a fisherman,\" Virk said with a shrug, dropping a hand to rest on the axe head that hung at his belt. \"And I do not think you and your husband have always been trappers.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We live in Vigrið, the Battle-Plain,\" Orka said with a shrug. \"Only fools do not learn how to protect themselves.\"\n\nVirk held his hands up at Orka's flat stare. \"Your past is your business. But I'd rather have you or Thorkel at my shoulder in a scrap than that snivelling weasel.\" He nodded towards Guðvarr. \"And these niðings...\" His face twisted. \"Murderers and child-stealers, they do not deserve to breathe our air.\"\n\nOrka nodded. She had known there was more to Virk than fishing, had seen men like him before, their emotions always bubbling below the surface like serpents beneathe the fjord's still waters, violence only a short explosion away. She knew well enough that the braggarts like Guðvarr were not the real warriors. It was the ones who never threatened violence...\n\nThe murmur of many conversations faded and Orka looked up to see warriors enter the clearing: a dozen drengrs, Guðvarr among them, swaggering in his brynja and sword at his hip, the permanent drop of moisture still hanging from the end of his nose. The women who had accompanied him to Orka's steading were there, Orka remembering Arild, the one with a face like a butcher's cleaver. They were all gleaming in mail, polished leather and arm rings of silver or bronze, spreading in a half-circle before the shattered remnants of the oath stone, allowing Jarl Sigrún to step out into the clearing, another dozen drengrs behind her.\n\nShe was tall, though not as tall or wide as Orka, but there was a strength and grace in her walk that spoke of a warrior. She wore a coat of riveted mail and had a silver torc around her neck, more rings of silver upon her arms. She had not become a jarl by kind words and good deeds; she was a warrior who had carved apiece of land for herself and fought all who challenged her. Men and women had stood with her, drawn by her strength and promises of land and status, and so her power had grown. It was a story Orka had seen a hundred times over. Where once this land had been free, it was now being swallowed piece by piece by petty jarls, men and women who hungered for wealth and power. Some were more successful than others, their battle-fame spreading, their wealth growing, warriors flocking to them. Jarl Sigrún was not the most powerful, but she was still a force to be watched. The fact that she had ruled here for eight years and was still breathing said much." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Apace behind her like a faithful hound another warrior strode: a woman, her face lean and scarred, the sides of her head shaved and pale, swirling with tattoos, a thick strip of grey-black braided hair running across the top of her head. She wore plain breeches and a tunic of wool, and had two seaxes hanging at her belt, one across the front, one suspended behind her back.\n\nAnd she wore a thrall's collar.\n\nBut it was to her eyes that Orka was drawn. Flat and merciless, they scanned the crowd, as if weighing up their prey.\n\nJarl Sigrún had many thralls, to clean and cook and work her farms, but Orka had never seen her with a warrior-thrall before. And this one had a look that Orka had seen before.\n\nA hopelessness that leaked from her.\n\nThe sight of her set Orka's skin crawling, as if spider-legs scuttled down her spine.\n\n\"Welcome, all,\" Jarl Sigrún said as she came to stand before the shattered oath stone, her drengrs arrayed about her like a curling hand, the warrior-thrall prowling behind her. Sigrún's voice was strong and confident, rising above the hiss of the wind and reaching across the crowd of hundreds. \"I am not one for the flapping of lips and tongue, so I will say this straight and simple. I have sworn my oath to Queen Helka.\" She pulled up the woollen sleeve of her tunic and showed afresh-scabbed cut on her forearm. \"And sealed it with my blood.\"\n\nA ripple of murmurs sounded around the clearing.\n\n\"You have come to tell us the good news of higher taxes, then,\" Virk called out beside Orka. Other voices shouted their agreement, and their anger." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jarl Sigrún turned her eyes on Virk and held his gaze along moment. Virk returned it. Orka could smell the anger seeping from him.\n\n\"No, I have come to tell you that the world is changing, and we must change with it,\" Sigrún said. \"I became jarl of Fellur eight years ago and swore on my blood and life to protect the village, and those who lived within it. That is what I have done, and I have spread that protection, making life safer for you all on the plains and hills as far as your eyes can see.\"\n\n\"On a cloudy day, perhaps,\" one of Virk's sons whispered to the other.\n\n\"But I cannot protect you from what is to come,\" Sigrún said.\n\n\"Life is good here as it is,\" Virk answered, his sons adding their voices. \"We do not need change, or Helka.\"\n\n\"Aye, life has been good, here at Fellur, but life runs in seasons, and seasons do not last forever. Jarls are rising throughout all Vigrið, powerful jarls that I can no longer protect you from. Jarl Störr in the north-west has spread his borders ever south and east, and he has his eyes on this land. This fjord. Jarl Orlyg sitting in Svelgarth to the east has raided our lands. And Queen Helka, she too is... ambitious.\"\n\nAmbitious jarls, I have seen the price of that. And Helka calls herself a queen. She would lift her head above the pack and rule them. It is as Thorkel feared. Worse.\n\nOrka shared a look with Thorkel, whose brows were knotted in a thundercloud." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"She wants our land, and the fruits of our labour,\" Virk cried. \"She would make of us tenants who pay tribute for land we've hunted and tamed and farmed with our own hands, no help from her.\"\n\nThe warrior-thrall stopped pacing and turned her flat eyes upon Virk. She stood unnaturally still.\n\nOne of Virk's sons touched his arm, but he shook it off.\n\nMany shouts from the crowd agreed with Virk.\n\nA man stepped forwards, a fine red felt hat upon his head, trimmed with fur, a pale beard hanging with gold rings across the breast of his red-wool tunic. Orka and Thorkel had traded with him before: Fálki Torilsson, once a farmer, now made wealthy by deposits of tin found beneath his pastureland.\n\n\"Virk speaks what many of us are thinking, Jarl Sigrún,\" Fálki said with a respectful bow. \"And I am also thinking that we will be taxed for the honour of Helka's protection?\" he added.\n\nJarl Sigrún shrugged. \"Most likely, Fálki,\" she said. \"It is the way of the world. Look at Iskidan in the south, avast realm ruled over by one city, Gravka, and by one lord, the emperor Kirill. That is the way that Vigrið is going. It will happen soon. In our lifetime. The season is changing, autumn to winter, maybe, but there will be a spring beyond that, for those that survive the cold.\"\n\n\"Aye, Helka would make herself an emperor, like Kirill of Gravka,\" Virk spat. \"But don't forget that his throne is built upon a mountain of corpses, that there are more thralls than freedmen in Iskidan, and that they sacrifice children.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jarl Sigrún laughed. \"I thought you above a child's saga-tale, Virk.\"\n\n\"It is true, I have sailed the whale road and seen it,\" Virk said.\n\n\"And you have drained many a mead horn, too, and perhaps dreamed of these things,\" Sigrún said, her drengrs laughing, Guðvarr loudest of all. \"If these things were truth, I would do all in my power to not let that happen here.\" Jarl Sigrún frowned. \"But I will not lie to you, Helka will want our coin, and our oaths. And I will tell you a harder truth; if I said no to her, she would still come and take this land for herself. We have not the strength to stop her. She would come, kill me and our strongest and put one of her own in the mead hall as jarl.\" She shook her head.\n\nOrka nodded and thought well of Sigrún for admitting this hard truth. But her mind was running ahead, seeing in vivid colours the path Helka would take, the fields of blood and corpses she would tread in her quest to rule all Vigrið.\n\n\"But there will be benefits too,\" Jarl Sigrún said.\n\n\"Benefits!\" Virk snorted, though others such as Fálki listened attentively.\n\n\"Aye, such as being on the winning side. It is only a matter of time before Störr and Helka face one another, and the winner will take all Vigrið. That could go well for us.\"\n\n\"And what if Helka loses?\" another voice called out.\n\n\"She will not lose,\" Sigrún said. \"I have seen her drakkars, and her warband. The bones of the dead god Orna rear over her fortress at Darl. I have seen the wings.\" She looked slowly across the crowd. \"She will not lose.\" Her gaze fixed on Virk. \"And taxes area part of life, they are the road to safety and long-life. Queen Helka will protect us from the greater battles of Vigrið, and I will continue to protect you all, as best I can.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A thought was growing in Orka's mind, memories of battle and blood circling in her head like sea serpents smelling blood in the water.\n\n\"She will ask fora hird-offering from here,\" Orka said, fora moment not realising that she had uttered the words out loud.\n\nThorkel grunted and shifted against his tree, those close to Orka turning and staring at her.\n\nShe remembered Thorkel's words.\n\nWe will go to the Althing, keep our heads down and our lips stitched shut...\n\n\"Is that not so, Jarl Sigrún?\" Orka asked her.\n\n\"She may,\" Jarl Sigrún said grudgingly.\n\n\"She will,\" Orka said. \"She will take all with a strong arm that own a spear or axe to fight her war for her, the people of Fellur swelling her warband's ranks.\" Orka looked around at the crowd, seeing that realisation dawning in their eyes. The thought of putting down their tools and sharpening their spears and axes, of seeing their sons and daughters carried off on the wave of war.\n\n\"That is along way from now, and much can happen,\" Sigrún said. \"But it would be better than sitting in our fields and fisher boats when Jarl Störr's warband sweeps over the horizon or rows into the fjord. He will not offer us protection. He will offer us iron and blood and the thrall's collar. This is the only path I can see to protect us all.\"\n\n\"Protect us?\" Virk said. \"When you cannot even protect us against murderers and child-stealers?\"\n\nJarl Sigrún's eyes flittered to Guðvarr." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Assist in storytelling and proceed with the tale.\nTags: fantasy, norse mythology, dragons\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: The Shadow of the Gods\nChapter: 23" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elvar stared through the rain and mist towards the fortress of Snakavik. It was hidden from view, wrapped in murk and rain-soaked clouds, but she knew it was there. She was sat on her sea-chest, her oar banked and stowed, the Wave-Jarl gliding across the green-black of a wide fjord on a half-crew of oarsmen. Grey, mist-shrouded cliffs rose either side of them, thick with nesting gulls, shrieking their hunger. It was a constant chorus in spring that Elvar had once grown deaf to, but now she was back it was all that she could hear.\n\nAhead, a shadow appeared in the mist, tall and wide as a mountain, taking shape as if it were breaking through the clouds.\n\nBjarn hissed, the boy sitting close to Elvar, holding his mother's hand.\n\nA snout and fangs longer than trees emerged from the mist high above them, eye sockets deep and dark, the mottled skull of a huge serpent taking shape.\n\n\"Mama,\" Bjarn breathed, a tremor in his voice.\n\n\"It's all right,\" Uspa said, squeezing Bjarn's hand. \"It's dead. That is Snaka's skull, and the days of his dark deeds are long finished, though he has left his mark upon the land.\"\n\nSnakavik loomed out of the mist before them. Elvar craned her neck to lookup at its heights. The western extremity of the Boneback Mountains began here, sharp slopes and mist-wreathed peaks disappearing into the distance. Out of that slope protruded the upper half of an immense, bleached skull of a serpent, long fangs bared, eye sockets empty holes: Snaka's skull, its size impossible to comprehend unless you stood before it. Here it was that dread Snaka had fallen, oldest, father of the gods, slain on the day of Guðfalla, shattering the world in his ruin and remaking it. Snaka's fall had smashed the ground beneath him, allowing the sea to surge in and create the fjord they were now rowing upon. Earth had been hurled into the air and settled around his corpse, forming a mountain range that cut across the whole continent of Vigrið. The dead god's flesh had long rotted away beneath heaped earth and rock, but the serpent's skull, spine and ribs remained, a colossal and ever-present reminder of the legacy of the gods." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At least Snakavik is safe from vaesen, so we will be able to sleep at night without worry of being strangled by night-wyrms.\n\nThe bones of the gods were a shield against the vaesen, though Elvar was not sure why. Some latent power residing in the knit of bone and marrow. Whatever the reason, vaesen avoided any remnant or relic of the gods.\n\nThe sight of Snakavik made Elvar feel insignificant, like a rivet-nail tossed into a bucket of nails, and that was a feeling she'd fled Snakavik to escape. She sucked in a breath, trying to contain a swarm of memories long buried that were released by the sight of home, her eyes flickering to Grend. This had been his home, too, for more years than she had drawn breath, but if the sight of Snaka's skull stirred anything inside the old warrior, his face did not betray it.\n\nAt the skull's peak a fortress was built high upon a plateau of granite that the head emerged from, a mead hall and gate towers looking like horns and scales upon the snake-god's brow.\n\nWithin, below and around the skull and surrounding slopes a fortress and harbour had been built, over many decades a town spilling out around it. Elvar could just make out the timber towers and ramparts that wound around the skull, dark lines against the bleached bone, small as veins from her distance. The glow of a thousand torches from the town within the serpent's skull lit the eye sockets and open jaws as if ancient Snaka flickered with unholy fire.\n\nThe crew were silent as they rowed into the harbour of Snakavik, passing between the curved arches of fangs that burst from the water. The lower jaw of the dead serpent rested deep below the waterline on the fjord's bed, but the tips of his lower fangs reared out of the water like the bleached bones of a dead whale, the space between them wide enough for twenty drakkars to row side by side." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sound changed as they rowed into the cavernous skull, echoing and swirling, loud yet strangely muted. Ahead of the Wave-Jarl the harbour and town sprawled upon a slope that reared into the heights of Snaka's skull, bustling and teeming with life, more drakkars, knarrs, snekkes and fisher boats than Elvar could count moored to a snarl of piers and jetties. Behind her Agnar bellowed orders from the steering oar and guided them towards a pier with a free mooring space on it, Elvar seeing a fine-clothed harbour official striding down the pier towards them, a handful of well-armed guards at her back.\n\nJarl Störr's officials areas keen-eyed as ever for their coin.\n\n\"OARS!\" Sighvat yelled and the rowers raised and banked their oars, the Wave-Jarl gliding towards the space on the pier. Warriors of the Battle-Grim leaped over the top-rail onto the pier, mooring ropes slung across to them and tied off, and then the strakes of the Wave-Jarl were grating against timber. Agnar climbed onto the pier and spoke to the harbour official, a woman wrapped in red wool edged with pine marten fur, a wool and fur hat on her head, rings of silver thick on her arms and around her neck. Her mail-clad guards stood close, eyeing Agnar and the crew of the Battle-Grim as bored warriors do, appraising. There was little trouble in Snakavik, at least not when Elvar had lived here. Jarl Störr was astern master, and though his realm thrived, trade and wealth flowing, he was not a tolerant or forbearing man. Elvar's eyes flickered to a row of posts as tall as masts set along the dockside, metal cages hanging from them, creaking on rusted hinges. Skeletons were wedged within them, bones picked clean by ravens and crows. In one of the cages a half-decomposed body was visible, male or female, it was impossible to tell. A half-gnawed arm flopped through the iron bars, tattered strips of a tunic flapping in the breeze." }, { "from": "human", "value": "A pouch of coin passed from Agnar to the harbour official, paying the Wave-Jarl 's harbour dues." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The official handed Agnar a block of rune-carved wood, then she was walking away, her guards following.\n\nAgnar called out a half-dozen names, a handful of warriors ordered to remain with the Wave-Jarl to guard the ship, and everyone else climbed over the top-rail onto the pier.\n\nElvar was already dressed in her brynja, her weapons belt buckled and looped at her waist, a brown woollen hood draped across her head and shoulders, holding off the rain. Out of habit she lifted her sword in its scabbard then let it slide back down. Her shield she had left wedged on the top-rail by her sea-chest, and her spear was still on the racks in the Wave-Jarl 's deck. Sighvat clambered onto the pier, chains rattling as he led their prize, the Berserkir, Berak. His wife and child followed behind them. Biórr and Thrud were their guards, Thrud still limping from the arrow he had taken in his calf back on the island of Iskalt. He was lean and knotted as walrus rope, his face scarred and pitted, his cheeks and bones all sharp angles. Finally, Kráka, the Tainted Seiðr-witch, and the Hundur-thrall stepped onto the pier and walked to Agnar.\n\nElvar stood quietly with Grend, her hand rising to close around the troll tusk that hung around her neck. She liked the feel of it in her fist, smooth and cold like walrus ivory. Grend wore his brynja, axe and seax on his weapons belt, a woollen hood pulled up over his black braided hair. Then Agnar was calling out and they set off along the pier, marching into the harbour town of Snakavik. They passed the creaking cages of criminals, each post with a rune-carved sign nailed to it. The one closest to Elvar read, \" Worshipper of a dead god\". They passed through the docks, fish-houses and a score of taverns reeking of stale mead and urine. Elvar scowled at the narrow streets and walls, as if she could warn off the stench offish, brine and humanity with a glare. By the looks of it Grend was trying the same tactic, but it wasn't working for either of them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Even though the sun was still in the sky, the harbour town of Snakavik existed in a permanent state of dusk or darkness, the serpent's skull only leaking light in through its open jaw, eye sockets and a few score cracked fissures that ran through its thick bone." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Because of that, torches burned everywhere, smoke from whale and seal oil thick in the air, adding to the cloying sense of pressure all around. Elvar started to feel her skin crawl, realising how much she loved the open seas and life with the Battle-Grim.\n\nLiving a life where I could have died many times over is far more preferable to living one more day in this stinking turd of a town.\n\nThe road steepened, buildings rearing and leaning, crowds of people thick as flies: fishermen, warriors, merchants, traders, whores leaning in the entrances to alleys, sometimes the glint of iron deeper within the shadows, cut-throats waiting to relieve a whore's client of their coin or life.\n\nThey came to a crossroad and Agnar stopped.\n\n\"Find us a tavern with room enough for the Battle-Grim, one that sells good ale and mead,\" Agnar said to limping Thrud and gave him a bag of coin. Thrud grunted and shuffled off to the right, Biórr telling the prisoners to follow him.\n\n\"Sighvat, Huld, Sólín: with me,\" Agnar said, then strode on up the steep hill, Kráka and the Hundur-thrall accompanying them.\n\nElvar blew out along breath, partly relieved, partly disappointed not to have been chosen. The rest of the Battle-Grim walked after Thrud and Biórr, Elvar standing there a moment then following after them.\n\n\"Elvar,\" a voice called. It was Sighvat, who was standing and looking back at her. \"This way, with us, you halfwit.\"\n\nElvar shared a look with Grend and changed direction, following after Agnar and Sighvat and the others." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They climbed ever higher, winding through the streets of the town-in-the-skull, until Sighvat was red and blowing, sweat soaking him. They passed a tavern where a dozen or so warriors were stood outside, talking, leaning on a wall, drinking from horns. All of them were dressed well, in good war kit: mail and leather and wool, a few with swords at their hips, always the sign of a good gold-giving chief. Elvar noticed that each one of them had a black raven's feather tied into their hair. Some had shields slung across their backs or resting against the tavern wall. They were painted grey, black wings unfurled around the boss.\n\nThe Raven-Feeders. Elvar knew them. A crew with a ruthless reputation, led by Ilska Raven-Feeder, or Ilska the Cruel, some called her.\n\nThe warriors eyed Agnar and his companions as they walked past the tavern. Agnar was well known, a man of high battle-fame and reputation, and Huld and Sólín had their red shields with painted spear and axe over their backs, the known sigil of the Battle-Grim.\n\nOne of the Raven-Feeders, a fair-haired warrior with a beard patched with red and gold, leered at Elvar, smiling at her.\n\n\"Come join us,\" he said to her, gesturing with a horn of mead. He looked at fat-bellied Sighvat and grey-haired Grend. \"I promise you a better time than you'll get from these old timers.\" He blew her a kiss, silver thick around his neck and arms.\n\nGrend slowed, giving the man a dark look.\n\n\"Got something to say, old man?\" the blond warrior said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elvar stepped between them, pushing Grend on, and looked the blond warrior up and down.\n\n\"I'd rather hump old Svin the dead boar,\" Elvar said, then turned and walked on.\n\nA few laughs rippled among the blond warrior's companions, as well as a stream of insults that followed them up the street. Sighvat growled at Huld to ignore the taunts as she turned her head to glower at them.\n\nThey turned a corner and left the tavern and the Raven-Feeders behind them.\n\nCheckpoints came and went, each time Agnar stopping to talk to guards at gate towers, showing the mooring rights the harbour official had given him, handing over more coin fora speedier passage to the fortress. Eventually they came to a levelled peak on the slope, and from here they began to climb the winding stair, built of timber thicker than masts, wide enough fora dozen to walk abreast. It hugged the back of Snaka's skull, spiralling high above the town, and then disappeared into one of the gaping fissures through the serpent's bone.\n\nElvar paused to look down over the thick railing posts, and saw the town spilling down the slope like too much porridge boiling over from a pot. Lights flickered through the smoke-smear, and her eyes picked out the Wave-Jarl, bobbing in the harbour, small as a rivet-nail from this height. Then Grend was grunting at her and she turned and walked into the bone tunnel, moisture dripping, the timber steps slick, smoke from oil braziers thick around her.\n\nElvar counted off the steps, as she had when she was a child.\n\n\"Two hundred and twelve,\" she breathed as she broke into daylight, the party emerging onto the crown of the skull like maggots from a wound. Cold wind scoured them, a fine rain swirling like mist. Elvar sucked in clean air, feeling its chill crackle in her lungs. The sun was sinking into the western horizon, spreading a diffuse glow through rain-bloated clouds." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A road of timber planks led eastwards across the skull towards a plateau of granite, upon which the fortress of Snakavik stood. Thick timber walls and a strong gatehouse were touched by the last light of day, the roofs of buildings visible within, a mead hall at the heart of the fortress. Even from here Elvar could seethe curling, snake-carved beams of the mead hall's roof, the hall larger than some towns Elvar had seen on her travels. Behind the hall reared a Galdur tower, where Galdurmen learned their rune-dark ways.\n\nWithout a word they strode along the road, Grend ahead of her, his hood up, head down, shoulders hunched against the wind and rain. The gates were open, a dozen guards standing either side, more helmed warriors looking down on them from the gate tower's ramparts. They wore fine mail and held yellow shields with a knotted serpent coiled around the iron boss, jaws gaping. A woman stepped out to meet them, a captain judging by her war gear. A helm with dark eye sockets and etched with bronze was buckled on her head, and her hand rested on the pommel of a scabbarded sword.\n\nElvar stood at the back of their group and waited quietly as Agnar spoke to the captain, going through the same process as he had a dozen times already, showing her the harbour rights, handing her some coin, pointing to Berak.\n\nShe looked at the chained man, then nodded. She barked an order to one of her warriors, a young lad holding a spear, who turned and led them into the fortress.\n\nThey passed through wide streets rowed either side with longhouses, some of the garrison homes for Jarl Störr's hird, his oathsworn retinue of drengrs, then turned into another street where blacksmiths\" forges belched smoke and the pounding of hammers rang in their ears. A courtyard opened wide before them: the mead hall of Snakavik, with wide steps and wooden pillars leading up to its deeply carved doors. A row of stables lined one edge of the courtyard, horses whinnying. Warriors stood at the top of the steps, before the doors, gleaming in polished brynjas and helms, bright spears in their fists." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The lad leading them hurried up the stairs and spoke to the warriors, one of them disappearing through the doors.\n\n\"You will wait here,\" the lad instructed Agnar as he climbed the steps and they all stuttered to a halt. Elvar looked around and saw the warriors regarding them with cool stares, most eyes drawn to Berak, who stood with his head down, longhair wet and hanging, casting his face in shadows.\n\nElvar's woollen hood sagged as the mist-like rain soaked into it, the courtyard shifting into darkness. Torches and braziers were lit, whipped by the wind.\n\nThe doors creaked and a warrior gestured for them to follow.\n\nAgnar led them up the steps and into Jarl Störr's mead hall. Elvar passed beneath the archway and entered a high-vaulted chamber, crows roosting in the shadowed rafters. Long rows of tables and benches led towards the far end of the hall where Jarl Störr's high table was set. Behind that there was a dais, a single chair sitting upon it, and set a little behind that, what looked like a marble-carved head, huge as a boulder, tall as any man. The image of a man was carved upon it, with a high forehead, abroad, wide nose and thick lips. Its eyes were closed, dark veins running through the marble, which seemed to glow in the torchlight.\n\nAgnar and his crew followed an escort of warriors, other warriors falling in around them, more warriors stationed around the periphery, where torches flickered on walls. Hearth fires burned down the centre of the hall, thralls turning carcasses of boar and deer on iron spits, fat dripping and sizzling in the flames as the evening's meal for Jarl Störr's freedmen and oathsworn was prepared." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A door at the far end of the hall opened and figures entered the room. A tall man led them, slim, clothed in a tunic of dark-blue wool, tablet weave around the neck and hems, a silver-buckled belt about his waist, a fine-wrought seax suspended upon it. A silver chain hung around his neck, a serpent's fang hanging from it, and a thick silver arm ring was coiled around his bicep, a serpent eating its tail. His hair was dark, touches of silver in it, pulled tight and tied at his neck, his beard neat, one braid running through it, bound at its tip with a silver ring. Heavy brows hung lidded over his eyes, shadowing them, his nose thin and sharp.\n\nJarl Störr.\n\nHe satin the chair on the dais, other figures spilling through the door behind him, settling around him. Men and women, twelve, fourteen, all tall and broad, their necks and shoulders bunched with muscle beneath their tunics, thick-browed and glowering. Their hair was braided with gold and silver wire, the men's beards groomed and gleaming with oil. All of them wore pendants on thick chains around their necks, bear claws of iron hanging from them. Axes hung from their belts.\n\nAnd all of them wore a thrall-collar.\n\nThey settled around Jarl Störr like hounds, some sitting at his feet, others stepping off the dais to prowl the space between the dais and high table, others leaning against walls, slipping into the shadows.\n\nThree others stepped through the doorway onto the dais: two younger men and a woman. The men were both dark-haired and thick-browed, making dark shadows of their eyes, their noses thin, marking them out as close kin of Jarl Störr." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The woman was blonde-haired, tall and proud, older than the two men. A necklace of bones draped around her neck, tattoos of runes thick upon the backs of her hands and disappearing into the sleeves of her yellow wool tunic.\n\nThe three of them stood at Jarl Störr's shoulder.\n\nThe warriors leading Agnar drew to a halt as they reached the space between the mead benches and the high table, stepping aside to let Agnar face the jarl.\n\n\"Welcome, Agnar Broksson, chief of the Battle-Grim,\" Jarl Störr said. His eyes flickered over those behind Agnar, touching upon Elvar and passing over her, resting upon the bowed head of Berak, then returning to Agnar.\n\n\"Well met, Jarl Störr.\" Agnar bowed his head.\n\n\"I am told you have goods for sale, goods of interest tome,\" Jarl Störr said.\n\n\"Aye, my lord,\" Agnar said. Elvar was not used to hearing her chief talk so deferentially to another person. She didn't like it.\n\n\"I bring to you Berak Bjornasson,\" Agnar continued. \"He is Tainted, Berserkir, wanted by three jarls for murder, blood-debt and weregild. I bring him first to you out of respect, and because I know your tastes.\"\n\nAgnar signalled to Sighvat, who grunted an order and pulled on the chain in his fist. Berak took a stumbling step forwards, slowly raised his head and glowered at Jarl Störr.\n\nA series of growls rippled through the Berserkirs ranged around Jarl Störr, a sudden tension in the air, like a gathering storm." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You bring him first tome because you think I will pay the highest price,\" Jarl Störr snorted, waving a hand. He looked at Berak, silent awhile. \"And if what you say is true, then you are right. I will pay you well. I value Berserkirs.\"\n\n\"It is true,\" Agnar said. \"My Hundur-thrall tracked him by scent, and my Seiðr-witch has confirmed his lineage.\"\n\n\"Hmm,\" Jarl Störr murmured, fingers drumming on the arm of his chair. \"If only this were a world where I could trust in the truth of any man's word.\" He looked to the woman standing beside him. \"Silrið,\" he said with a gesture of his hand.\n\nThe blonde woman stepped from the dais and walked towards them. She wore a tunic and breeches, winnigas wrapping her lower legs, leather cords criss-crossing them, a seax at her belt. It was shorter than most, not made for the shield wall. She drew it as she reached Berak, the steel blade glinting, and held it loosely. Berak towered over her, glared down at her.\n\n\"I need some of your blood,\" Silrið said. \"Give it willingly, I advise.\"\n\nElvar saw Berak tense, the muscles in his back and legs abruptly taut. There was along, drawn-out moment, and then he blew out a breath and raised an arm, pulling up the sleeve of his tunic to reveal a thick-muscled, hairy forearm.\n\nAgnar had warned him what would happen to his child and wife if he caused any trouble.\n\n\"Good,\" Silrið murmured as she drew her seax across Berak's arm, a dark line of blood welling. She turned on her heel and strode back to Jarl Störr and walked past him to the statue of the head on the dais. She stood before it, the head taller than her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Wake up, Hrung,\" she said.\n\nThe statue was perfectly still.\n\nSilrið kicked the statue's chin and a shuddering ripple passed through the head, like touching the still waters of a pond. Its mouth twitched.\n\n\"Hrung, vaknaðu,\" Silrið barked and the eyes snapped open. They were opaque and mist-like, pale as pearls and swirling sluggishly. Slowly they drew into focus and fixed on Silrið. The statue's lips moved.\n\n\"I was dreaming,\" the giant head said, his voice reverberating in the hall, Elvar feeling it pass through her body, like distant thunder.\n\n\"You can tell me of that later, ancient Hrung. But now, your jarl needs your service.\"\n\nThe cloudy eyes moved, looking at Jarl Störr in his chair, then back to Silrið.\n\n\"What would you have of me?\" Hrung said.\n\n\"Some blood to taste. Tell us what you can,\" Silrið said, raising her blood-smeared seax.\n\nHrung sniffed, seeming to Elvar like he was drawing all of the air within the hall into his nostrils, then opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue, wide and fat and pale. Silrið placed the seax onto it and gently wiped the blood off, taking care not to cut the giant.\n\nHrung closed his mouth and his eyes then was silent a moment as Elvar saw his tongue moving, pressing into the sides of his cheeks. Then he opened his eyes and spat, a glob of red-smeared phlegm splattering onto the dais.\n\n\"Berser's blood, or I am a dwarf,\" the head said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jarl Störr smiled.\n\n\"Take him,\" he said, and Silrið walked back towards Berak, two of the hulking thralls at Jarl Störr's feet accompanying her, as well as a trio of warriors. Berak stood waiting.\n\nSilrið held her handout to Sighvat for the chain, but he just stared back at her.\n\n\"We have not discussed his price,\" Agnar said.\n\n\"Twice what you would have received anywhere else,\" Jarl Störr said. \"I appreciate your business acumen, and, this way, if you find anymore Tainted...\"\n\nAgnar dipped his head. \"Your generosity is much appreciated, my lord, and my loyalty to you is guaranteed,\" he said, then nodded to Sighvat.\n\nYour loyalty to Jarl Störr's coin, you mean, Elvar thought, unable to stop her lip curling.\n\nSilrið took the chain and led Berak away, the two Berserkirs with her pushing close to Berak, snuffling and snorting.\n\n\"Well met, brother,\" one of them growled. Berak ignored them and followed Silrið with his head down, feet shuffling.\n\n\"Silrið will bring you your payment,\" Jarl Störr said. It was clearly a dismissal. Agnar dipped his head and turned, walking away, Elvar and his small crew following him.\n\n\"Hold.\" A voice rang out in the hall, vibrating through Elvar's body. The giant head Hrung's eyes were wide, nose twitching and sniffing. He stuck his tongue out, licked the air as if tasting it, then closed his mouth and smacked his lips." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Elvar,\" he said into the hall.\n\nJarl Störr stared at Hrung, the two men at his shoulder taking a step forward.\n\n\"You must be mistaken,\" Jarl Störr said.\n\n\"Elvar is here,\" Hrung said, his bass voice filling the room.\n\nElvar stopped with a sigh and turned, dimly aware that Grend was turning beside her, Agnar's crew coming to a halt.\n\nElvar put her hands to her hood and pulled it back.\n\n\"Hello, Father,\" she said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Orka crept through thinning trees, Fellur village appearing ahead as a blacker shadow against the crow-dark of night. Wind soughed through the woodland about her, stirring branches and picking white foam on the fjord that reflected faint starlight and moonglow. The sound of boats creaking drifted on the wind.\n\nShe reached the last of the trees and waited, staring, then glanced to the east. Dawn was still little more than a thought, herein the dead of night where all were asleep.\n\nExcept for the hunters, Orka thought. The prowlers and shadow-walkers.\n\nBut she knew she would have to move, soon. The journey from her steading to Fellur had taken over half a day, and then she had taken more time to stow her spear and hemp sack. She did not need them for what she was about to do. But dawn would not wait for her, and she had dark work to do. Every moment away from Breca grated on her, like claws scraping bone, but something in her gut told her this was the wisest course, rather than choosing to follow one of the two river channels, not knowing which one Breca had been rowed down. She needed information and an image clawed insistently in her thought-cage. Of Jarl Sigrún's new thrall licking Thorkel's blood from her seax.\n\nThe open strip of land that lay between the woodland and village gates was filled with the tents of those who had come to attend the Althing. Here and there the orange-glow of embers from half burned-out fires leaked into the darkness. Orka whispered an oath, then stepped from the trees and picked her way through the tents. She took her time, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness, avoiding looking at any fire-glow, until she had passed through them all and stood before the barred gates." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There were no guards.\n\nShe took a few long strides and leaped up at the wall, grabbed the timber top and heaved herself up, swung one leg over, the momentum carrying the rest of her body after it. She dropped into mud, boots first, with a squelching thud, and stayed there, crouched, listening.\n\nTen heartbeats, twenty and there was no sound. She stood and padded into the village, disappearing into shadow.\n\nAll was silent in the village, not even dogs stirring at her passing. Soon the courtyard opened up before her, cold and still, the mead hall looming dark against starlight. Another long pause, Orka listening, eyes scouring the darkness. She spied something on the steps to the mead hall's doors: a deeper shadow. A guard sat sleeping, propped against a pillar, a thick fur pulled around their shoulders.\n\nOrka slipped around the courtyard's edge, always keeping a wall to her back, then froze. A sound.\n\nA groan, coming from the courtyard before the mead hall's steps.\n\nShe stared, shapes coalescing. Two figures were slumped on the ground, arms raised high, bound at the wrists and tied to a post. One of them was weeping, a sad, pathetic sound; the other looked to be asleep or unconscious.\n\nThe clouds parted, moonlight gilding the courtyard fora few heartbeats, then it was gone, hidden behind more cloud.\n\nBut Orka had seen who it was tied to the stake.\n\nMord and Lif, Virk's boys.\n\nThey went back to the Althing.\n\nIf they were staked out in the courtyard then they had committed a crime and would be awaiting trial, or the enforcement of a punishment." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Orka paused, looking at the sleeping guard on the steps. She should leave them, and was about to, when Breca's face appeared in her thought-cage.\n\n\"I feel sad for Mord and Lif, Mama,\" he had said to her.\n\nShe ground her teeth, then she was creeping across the courtyard, bent low, coming up behind the two brothers. She slipped a hand around the mouth of the one who was awake, Lif, the younger of the two brothers. She felt him stiffen and struggle, hissed in his ear.\n\n\"It is Orka. Be still.\"\n\nHe froze.\n\n\"I'm going to let you go. Make a sound and I'll kill you myself,\" she breathed in his ear.\n\nHe nodded and she released him then crept around so that he was between her and the guard on the mead hall steps. She put a hand to Mord, who was slumped against the post. Blood trickled from a wound in his scalp, but he was breathing.\n\n\"We went back,\" Lif whispered. \"Tried to kill Guðvarr. We failed. Tomorrow we will be tried: outlawry or execution, Sigrún said.\"\n\nOrka put a finger to her lips, then crept away from Lif, towards the sleeping guard. As she slipped her seax from its scabbard she saw that the guard on the steps was a woman, strands of fair hair escaping the hood of her cloak and shimmering in tattered starlight.\n\nTimber creaked as she put her weight onto the first step.\n\nThe guard stirred and opened her eyes.\n\nOrka stabbed her seax into her throat, pushing deep, her other hand clamping over the woman's mouth as she felt her blade grind on the spine. She dragged the seax free with a surge of blood, black in the starlight, and the guard slumped, gave a gurgle and then she was still. Orka wiped her blade on the guard's fur cloak, propped her up so that she would remain in her sleeping position, then padded back to Lif." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He was staring, eyes wide.\n\nOrka raised a finger to her lips, then sawed at the rope tying Lif and Mord to the post. Lif came free first and caught Mord as his arms flopped and his body teetered towards the mud.\n\nOrka leaned close and whispered in Lif's ear.\n\n\"Take your brother to your boat, gather any provisions you can carry in a bag, and be waiting for me on the fjord, as close to the rear of the mead hall as you can get. If you seethe first hint of dawn and I'm not there, leave.\"\n\nOrka slipped away before Lif could say anything.\n\nShe eased around the side of the mead hall and crept silently through shadow, until she was close to the hall's rear. There were no openings along its length, only one shuttered window. That marked Jarl Sigrún's sleeping chamber. Orka knew drengrs would be sleeping in the main chamber of the hall, around the hearth fire, though not Jarl Sigrún's full strength of warriors. A party of riders had passed Orka on the path from the hills, six of Sigrún's oathsworn warriors, and a handful of others, some walking, some driving an oxen-pulled cart. Guðvarr had not been among them. They had been ordered to investigate the fire and smoke from Orka's steading, she guessed. But that would still leave at least a dozen drengrs at Fellur. Jarl Sigrún would want them around her to impose security at the Althing.\n\nAnd Sigrún's thrall will be with her.\n\nOrka stood beside the shuttered window, quietly slid her seax from its scabbard and worked at the lock, slowly, gently, until she felt the clip give. In one swift movement she pulled it open and climbed into the frame of the open window, stepping into the chamber." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Darkness, a hearth fire glow, abed, two figures in it. Movement at the bed's foot as someone uncoiled from sleep around the hearth fire. The glint of fire-glow on iron: the thrall's collar.\n\nOrka stepped into the chamber, the figures on the bed stirring, a wool blanket pushed back, revealing Jarl Sigrún and a lover lying naked, entwined together. The man was waking, disentangling his legs from Sigrún's and pushing himself upon to one elbow, his slim body pale, muscles etched in starlight and fire-glow. Orka slashed at his throat: a spurt of blood and he fell back gurgling. Orka clubbed the hilt of her seax into Sigrún's jaw as the jarl jolted awake and started to sit up, sending her crashing back to the mattress, and then Orka's seax was levelled at the thrall, who was on her feet, her seax half-drawn. The tip of Orka's blade touched the thrall's throat.\n\n\"Let it go,\" Orka hissed.\n\nThe thrall stared at her, a hint of amber in her eyes, tension in her muscles. An exhaled breath, then she let her seax slide back into its scabbard and lifted her hand clear.\n\n\"I need their names, and where they are going,\" Orka said.\n\nThe thrall's mouth opened to speak.\n\n\"Do not lie tome,\" Orka broke in. \"I know it was you. I saw you taste my husband's blood.\" A tremor rippled through her, a wave of rage. She took a moment, controlling it, controlling the urge to stab and kill and destroy. \"Their names, and a destination,\" Orka breathed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A hesitation, then a curt nod from the thrall.\n\n\"I am a niðing thrall,\" the woman growled. \"I do not give commands. I obey them.\"\n\n\"Who commanded this? The murder of my husband; the abduction of my son?\"\n\nA silence, the thrall's eyes fixed on Orka's. They glittered with amber.\n\n\"Wolf-kin, tell me,\" Orka growled.\n\n\"My name is Vafri,\" the thrall said, \"and I am descended from Ulfrir, the great wolf-god, and Hundur the hound. Proud and strong we were.\" She shook her head with a twist of her lip. \"If I am about to die, you will know my name, and my lineage.\"\n\n\"I care nothing for who you were. You area thrall now, and have my pity for that, but you are the reason my husband is dead...\" Her fist twitched, knuckles white around the hilt of her seax. \"Who commanded this?\" Orka growled. \"I will not ask you again.\"\n\nVafri's lip curled, the glint of her teeth. \"My master is Hakon, son of Queen Helka,\" she said. \"I was ordered to report any sign of the Tainted.\"\n\n\"Report to who?\" Orka hissed.\n\nAnother silence.\n\nOrka's blade moved, a line of blood trickling down Vafri's neck.\n\n\"He is... not a man to cross,\" Vafri said.\n\n\"His name,\" Orka said.\n\n\"Drekr,\" the thrall grunted, a tremor in her voice.\n\nOrka drew in along breath, her thought-cage turning. She had heard that name from the lad by the river." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And where is Drekr taking my son?\" Orka said.\n\nVafri shrugged. \"I am not told such things.\"\n\nA twitch of Orka's wrist, and the seax sliced a deep line into flesh.\n\n\"I swear, I do not know,\" Vafri hissed.\n\n\"Guess, then,\" Orka said. \"You are wolf-cunning. Where do you think they are taking my son?\"\n\nAnother long silence. Their eyes locked.\n\n\"Darl, maybe,\" Vafri said. Her eyes flickered away, looking over Orka's shoulder fora moment, then returning to Orka. There was the creak of abed and Orka turned and saw Jarl Sigrún reaching for her weapons belt.\n\nA fist slammed into Orka's jaw, Vafri moving as soon as Orka's eyes were off her. Orka stumbled back, slashed with her seax to keep Vafri back, shook her head to clear the white spots dancing in her eyes. She took another shuffle-step, back and to the side, closer to Sigrún, at the same time drawing one of the seaxes in her belt: one of the blades she had pulled from Thorkel's body.\n\nSigrún had a fist around her sword hilt and was on her feet, drawing the blade from its scabbard. She yelled and was answered by the sound of movement beyond the chamber's door, in the mead hall. A voice called out. Orka slashed, diagonally from above, right to left, and Sigrún fell away with a scream, blood spraying from a red gash stark across her face, from forehead to chin.\n\nVafri snarled and rushed Orka, a seax in the thrall's fist. Her eyes glowed amber, the battle-joy bright in her. Orka remembered how the thrall had rushed and overwhelmed Virk. She snarled and ran at Vafri, taking her by surprise." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Vafri stabbed with her seax and Orka swayed to the side, letting her coat of mail take the seax's edge. She wrapped her left arm around Vafri's and heaved it into a lock, strained harder, hearing the crack of bone breaking. Vafri gasped, her momentum carrying her into Orka, jaws wide, teeth suddenly sharp, snapping for Orka's face and throat, her empty hand raking at her, nails razored as claws. There was a burning pain across Orka's cheek. She slammed her head forwards, crunched into Vafri's nose and upper lip and heard the crackle of cartilage snapping, a gush of blood, lip mangled, teeth knocked loose. Vafri's legs buckled, the woman still conscious, snarling and spitting froth and blood as Orka plunged the seax in her right fist into the thrall's belly.\n\nWith a grunt and whine, Vafri curled over the blow.\n\nThe sound of boots and voices outside the door.\n\nOrka shoved Vafri away, ripping her blade free, the thrall stumbling back and dropping to her knees, blood sluicing from her belly and nose. She toppled to her side, one hand clutching the wound in her gut, her other searching for the hilt of her seax, lying on the floor close to her.\n\nShouts outside; a kick and the door was hurled inwards, silhouettes filling it.\n\nJarl Sigrún stumbled towards Orka, swinging her sword overhead, her face a ruin of blood and gaping flesh. Orka caught the sword on her seax and swept it away. Sigrún was thrown off balance and tripped over the bed.\n\nA wordless scream came from the doorway as drengrs pushed into the chamber, swords and axes in their fists. Guðvarr was first into the room, his shoulder bandaged from the wound Virk had given him, his sword held in front of him. He froze a moment, seeing blood and bodies in the fire-glow and moonlight, then his eyes fixed on Orka." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Orka threw her seax at him. Guðvarr leaped backwards into the drengrs thick behind him and they all fell tumbling. The seax slammed into the doorpost, quivering. With a quickstep forwards, Orka swept Vafri's seax from her grasping fingers, the thrall's hand falling away.\n\n\"Walk the soul road without a blade,\" Orka snarled at the dying woman, then turned and ran at the window, hurling herself through into the darkness.\n\nShe landed on her shoulder, the soft groundbreaking her fall, and rolled, managed to find her feet, a seax still in each fist, and ran. Shouts echoed out of Sigrún's window, then the sound of someone scrambling through, dropping to the ground. Other voices sounded further away: drengrs using the mead hall doors.\n\nOrka sprinted through an alley, spilled into a street, skidded, righted herself and ran left, then turned right, back into another alley. Lights were flaring as torches were lit, heads poking from doorways as the yelling of Jarl Sigrún's drengrs woke the village.\n\nAnother street, figures stepping out of doorways, then another alley, and then Orka saw the glimmer of the fjord between buildings.\n\nHorns blew out, loud and shrill, the village rippling to life.\n\nOrka burst out of the alley into open ground, a gentle slope down to the fjord dotted with boats pulled upon to the beach, a small pier jutting out into the water. Orka's feet slapped on timber as she ran, eyes searching, looking past the boats moored to the pier for Lif and Mord.\n\nThen she saw them, both of the young men sitting on benches in their small fisher boat, oars ready. Orka ran harder, skidded on timber and leaped into the boat, where she fell in a heap." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Row,\" she gasped, pushing herself up. \"Head south, for the sea.\"\n\nMord and Lif dipped their oars without a word, Mord with a bloodstained bandage around his head.\n\nFeet drummed on the pier; voices shouted at them. A spear hissed through the air, then disappeared with hardly a splash to Orka's right. She saw Guðvarr on the pier, shouting insults, swearing vengeance, veins bursting in his neck. The boat picked up speed, cutting a silver-foamed wake as it took them into the darkness." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elvar woke before dawn. Fora moment she did not know where she was. The scent of mead and ale and urine helped her memory. She was in the hayloft of a tavern in Snakavik. Her head was full of memories and emotions, guilt, anger, pride, all swirling in her thought-cage as if caught in the current of a whirlpool. Rolling over she sat up, Grend close to her, his bulk a shadow as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. All about her lay the crammed, snoring bodies of the Battle-Grim. Pulling her boots on she stood, picked her rolled weapons belt up and made her way among them. A gentle glow showed her the opening to a steep ladder and she climbed down into the tavern.\n\nTables and benches were spread about a large room, the floor covered with dried rushes, dark patches of urine here and there, a flickering light coming from a hearth fire and an iron brazier of stinking whale oil.\n\nBiórr and Thrud were down there and awake, Biórr stirring a pot of porridge over a small hearth fire and Thrud sitting with his legs stretched out, picking at his nails with a knife. Uspa and Bjarn were sitting on a bench in the corner of the room, a blanket across them both, a tafl board on the table in front of them. Bjarn smiled at her as she climbed down the ladder. So did Biórr.\n\nThere was a clatter of pots through a doorway and Elvar glimpsed the innkeeper and his wife.\n\n\"Porridge?\" Biórr asked as she reached the ground and stretched. He was ladling some into two bowls, which he took over to Uspa and Bjarn. Elvar didn't much feel like company; she had hoped to sit at a dark table alone and sift through her thoughts. But the smile of the lad, Bjarn, drew her to him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The bench scraped as she pulled it out to sit with them, laying her weapons belt on the table beside the tafl board, sword, seax and axe looped in the belt. Thrud's eyes rose from his nail-picking to follow her. He gave her a nod and a grunt, then went back to the dirt beneath his nails.\n\nBiórr brought her a bowl and spoon, and put a clay jar of honey on the table, spooning some into Bjarn's bowl.\n\n\"My thanks,\" Uspa said to Biórr.\n\n\"Back to our game, then,\" Biórr said, picking up a pair of bone-carved dice. \"Your jarl will not escape my warriors,\" he said, curling his lip in a false warrior-snarl.\n\n\"We shall see,\" Bjarn said, fingers twitching, eager for his next move.\n\nElvar dipped her spoon and blew on her porridge, shifting her weight in her brynja. She had slept in her coat of mail. Although she was home, after almost four years of travelling with the Battle-Grim she did not feel safe here. Especially after her words with her father last night.\n\nHe had been shocked to see her, though only his eyes had betrayed him. Thorun, her elder brother, had been more vocal about it, while Silrið the Galdurwoman had been as unreadable and indifferent as always. The only one showing anything close to happiness at Elvar's sudden return had been Hrung, the giant's head. He had smiled warmly at her.\n\nHe remembers all the ale and mead I used to pour into his bigmouth.\n\nThorun had told her she was a disgrace to leave as she had, and worse to return unannounced. Broðir, her younger brother, had mostly just stared at her, looking disappointed. When Thorun had stuttered into silence her father had spoken." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Why have you returned?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "he had asked her. \"I doubt it was out of loyalty.\"\n\nIf he had not added that last part, she would have stayed and talked. Instead she had turned on her heel and left, without uttering a single word. Closed the hall doors behind her to the renewed shouts of her eldest brother.\n\nStrange, how we revert to the behaviour of our childhood, when back in the presence of our family.\n\nI had so much to say: a fine speech planned.\n\nBut something about her father drove all rational thought from her mind. It had never been any different.\n\n\"Best eat it while it's hot,\" Biórr said to her.\n\n\"Huh?\" Elvar grunted.\n\n\"The porridge. Best eat it while it's hot. Tastes like whale glue when it's cold.\" He looked into his own bowl. \"Maybe it is whale glue.\"\n\nBjarn chuckled.\n\n\"You've tasted whale glue, then?\" Elvar asked him.\n\n\"You'd be surprised what I've tasted. Starving does things to a man,\" Biórr said with his bright smile. \"I have not always been this fine, healthy and successful example of a man you see before you this morning.\"\n\nElvar couldn't stop the smile from cracking her lips. Her eyes strayed to the tavern windows, where the darkness was shifting towards grey.\n\nMorning it is, then.\n\n\"Mama, where's Papa?\" Bjarn said, looking up from the tafl game, which he seemed to be winning.\n\nUspa looked down at him, her lips moving, but no words coming out.\n\n\"Your papa's had to go away fora while,\" Biórr said. \"He's asked us to look after you while he's gone.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Thrud tutted and Elvar looked at Biórr.\n\nBetter a hard truth than a soft lie, my father always said, Elvar thought, but looking at Bjarn's face, and the tear running down Uspa's cheek, Elvar found herself surprisingly moved by Biórr's kindness.\n\nFloorboards creaked above them and a form filled the hayloft's hatch, boots climbing down the ladder.\n\n\"You should have woken me,\" Grend said as he reached the ground, clicking his neck, buckling and looping his weapons belt, then stomping towards her. He looked at Uspa and Bjarn, then glowered at Biórr, who smiled back at him.\n\n\"Porridge?\" Biórr said, starting to rise.\n\n\"I'll get my own,\" Grend grunted, walking to the pot over the hearth. He filled a bowl and sat down with them, filling the space between Elvar and Biórr.\n\nMore of the Battle-Grim were rising, figures climbing down the ladder and filling the tavern. The landlord and his wife appeared, bringing afresh pot of oats to hangover the hearth fire, jugs of watered ale and horns and tankards to drink it from. Agnar came down the ladder, Kráka and the Hundur-thrall following him like faithful hounds. He looked at Elvar, nodded and walked to a table near the doorway. A muffled shout came from above and they looked up to see Sighvat's bulk stuck in the loft-hatch. Someone must have pushed from above, because there was a tearing sound and he fell through, grabbing the ladder to stop himself falling.\n\n\"How did he getup therein the first place?\" Elvar frowned." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"All things are possible with enough mead in your belly,\" Biórr said. \"At least, it feels so at the time. And mead is a fine killer of pain.\"\n\nShe smiled again.\n\nGrend grunted.\n\nSighvat dropped the distance to the ground and stood there, pulling his tunic straight.\n\n\"Stupid loft,\" he muttered. \"Must've been made fora dwarf.\"\n\nHe helped himself to porridge, emptying the pot and calling out for more. The landlord and his wife brought more oats, stirring in milk and water as more of the Battle-Grim crawled out of the hayloft. Soon the tavern was close to full, warriors filling most of the tables. Elvar sat quietly, eating her porridge, while Biórr and Bjarn went back to their game of tafl. It looked like Bjarn's bone-carved jarl and his remaining oathsworn were going to breakthrough Biórr's guardsmen.\n\nUspa shifted on her bench, moving closer to Elvar.\n\n\"What next for us?\" she said to Elvar, almost a whisper.\n\nElvar looked at her, feeling a stab of sympathy for the woman. She was a Seiðr-witch, her husband Tainted, and her son too, but she had gone from a life of freedom with her kin to losing her husband and wearing a thrall-collar around her neck. Agnar and the Battle-Grim excelled at hunting down the Tainted and Elvar had always kept herself distant from their prisoners– she knew it washer living and her reputation– but this time she felt the twist of some emotion within her. Perhaps because of saving the boy from the serpent.\n\nThat was a business decision, she told herself. The boy will earn coin or be used as leverage against Uspa. A Seiðr-witch is a valuable asset." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But part of her could sniff out the lie in her own reasoning. She looked at Uspa and could not keep the pity from rising within her.\n\nA hard truth or a soft lie?\n\n\"I do not know,\" Elvar said, choosing the hard path. \"Perhaps Agnar will sell you at the thrall-market, or keep you and sell Bjarn. Or sell you both, together or to different homes.\" She shrugged. \"I am not chief of the Battle-Grim to make such decisions.\"\n\n\"But you are close to the chief,\" she said, her eyes flickering to the troll tusk about Elvar's neck, and the arm ring Agnar had gifted her.\n\nElvar just shrugged.\n\n\"We need to leave Snakavik,\" Uspa said, with a flare of her eyes and nostrils.\n\nShe is afraid. But I would be afraid, if I were in her place.\n\n\"Why would you be in such a hurry to leave, with your husband a thrall of Jarl Störr? He will only leave Snakavik for battle. At least if you remain here you will be close to him: may even see him, occasionally.\"\n\n\"We need to leave,\" Uspa repeated, a hiss.\n\nThe tavern door swung open, letting in the grey light of Snakavik, and a warrior walked in, a woman in fine war gear, her brynja gleaming as if freshly scrubbed with sand. Her dark hair was braided, a scar running through one cheek into her upper lip. Elvar recognised her.\n\nGytha, father's champion. Gytha's battle-fame was known to most; even now the landlord appeared in the kitchen doorway and half-bowed to her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gytha looked around and saw Elvar, and Grend sitting beside her. She dipped her head to Grend.\n\n\"Welcome home,\" she said to Elvar, though her eyes rested mostly on Grend.\n\nElvar nodded, not trusting the words her mouth might utter.\n\nThere was a moment's silence, Grend silent as a stone, then Gytha looked over her shoulder and gestured. Two more warriors walked in, carrying a chest.\n\n\"For Agnar,\" Gytha said.\n\nThe payment for Berak. My father spoke true, he pays well for Berserkir.\n\nAgnar rose from his seat, where he had been hidden behind the tavern door. Elvar saw his hand drop from his sword hilt as he stood. He barked an order and Sighvat stepped forwards to take the chest from the two warriors.\n\n\"Jarl Störr is hereto see his daughter,\" Gytha said to Agnar and all in the room. She looked around. Confused faces stared back at her. Only Agnar and a few others knew of Elvar's bloodline. Gytha's eyes came to rest upon Elvar. \"He wishes for some privacy.\"\n\n\"A good time to take this to the Wave-Jarl, then,\" Agnar said, slapping the chest. \"Battle-Grim, with me,\" he called as he walked through the tavern door. Sighvat followed him, and the rest of the Battle-Grim stood and filed out of the tavern.\n\nBiórr looked at Elvar, noting that she made no move to leave the room. She could seethe candle-light flickering to life in his thought-cage.\n\n\"That means you as well,\" Grend told Biórr with a frown." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Biórr rose slowly.\n\n\"You will be... all right?\" he asked Elvar. \"I can stay.\"\n\nGrend snorted and put his hands on the table to rise.\n\nElvar touched Grend's arm.\n\n\"I have earned my place in the Battle-Grim's shield wall,\" she scowled at Biórr, clutching the troll tusk at her neck. \"Why would I need you to stay? You think me some niðing who needs protecting?\"\n\nHe shrugged, holding his hands up, then gestured for Uspa and Bjarn to follow him. Thrud rose and put his knife away, falling in behind the woman and child. They were the last to leave.\n\nMore warriors entered the tavern: Jarl Störr's oathsworn guard. They spread around the tavern, checking the room was empty. Two climbed the loft-ladder and shouted down that all was clear.\n\nJarl Störr entered the room. He saw Elvar and walked to her, figures filing in behind him: her brothers Thorun and Broðir, and finally Silrið, one of the few Galdurwomen in all of Vigrið, her necklace of animal skulls clinking as she walked. Jarl Störr sat down opposite Elvar, Thorun and Broðir either side of him. Silrið stood behind him.\n\n\"Daughter,\" Jarl Störr said. He looked at her, along and appraising look. Elvar felt like he was reading the secrets of her soul. \"You should not have left,\" he said into the silence.\n\nElvar curled her lip as she felt her anger building, a shapeless, bile-filled thing. She drew in a breath, trying to control it. Trying to break the patterns of her childhood where her father would admonish her and she would rage back at him, achieving nothing, always walking away feeling useless, and angry with herself, that she could not master her emotions and speak the truth of her heart." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I do not regret leaving,\" she eventually said. \"I have earned my reputation, my battle-fame.\"\n\n\"Battle-fame? In the employ of some merchant,\" Jarl Störr said.\n\n\"Agnar and the Battle-Grim are great warriors, famed throughout all Vigrið, and in the wide world beyond. Places you have never set foot. Places where your name is not known,\" Elvar said.\n\nHer father sniffed. \"He might be a capable warrior, but that does not change the fact that he makes his coin by dealing in flesh and blood. He is nothing more than a niðing merchant, a whore who will lie down for whoever shows him the most coin.\"\n\nElvar felt her blood race, anger bubbling at the insults thrown at her chief. Again, she took a moment to master it and bite back the words that formed on her tongue like the first spears hurled in a battle.\n\n\"You are happy enough to pay him,\" Elvar said instead. \"What does that make you?\"\n\n\"Sensible,\" her father said with a shrug, \"if he is selling something I want. But enough of Agnar and his band of mercenaries. I have come hereto talk about you. About your kin, about your future.\" He drummed his fingers on the table. \"When you left, the way you did: it brought shame on me. You made people doubt me. The whisperers revelled in it. If he cannot control his own daughter, they said, how can he control the future of Snakavik?\" He sighed. \"I had to spill blood to regain my control of this realm. A lot of blood.\"\n\n\"This is where you do not understand me,\" Elvar said. \"You do not control me. No one does, or ever will.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You area jarl's daughter,\" her elder brother, Thorun exclaimed. \"Father gave you everything, and in return you have responsibilities.\"\n\n\"What, to be a pawn in his politics?\" Elvar snapped. \"To be traded, to be sold like some thrall-whore to a worthy husband fora piece of land? To lie back and be ploughed like afield, to have their seed sown in my belly and spend my life rearing little piglets like a fat sow?\"\n\nThorun sucked in an angry breath.\n\n\"Yes,\" he said, \"if that is what Father wants.\"\n\n\"I wonder if you would be so quick to agree if it were you that were being bartered, if it were you that would have to be humped by some sweating pig and turned into a brood bitch.\"\n\n\"I would be happy to obey my father, whatever he asked,\" Thorun snapped.\n\n\"Well, then you can wed Helka's piglet and have a good humping, and I'll lead the warband,\" Elvar said.\n\nGrend snorted, the closest he came to laughing, and Thorun frowned.\n\nJarl Störr gave a thin smile.\n\n\"Ahhh,\" he sighed, leaning back in his chair, \"it is harder managing my children than the rest of Snakavik and all my realm combined.\" He shook his head. \"I want you back with me, daughter. With us. It is where you should be.\"\n\n\"I will not wed Hakon, just to spread your border a little wider.\"\n\n\"A little?\" Thorun said. \"Father's realm and Helka's combined would cover more than half of all Vigrið.\"\n\n\"I do not care,\" Elvar shrugged. \"I am born for the battle-storm and shield wall. I will make my own reputation, not be wed into someone else's.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Reputation?\" Thorun sneered. \"You? More likely you are riding on Grend's reputation. He stands at your shoulder in every conflict, I do not doubt, to protect you. He was ever mother's hound, and now he is yours.\"\n\nWithout realising it, Elvar was on her feet, her fist wrapping around her sword hilt.\n\n\"I will show you the sharp edge of my reputation, brother, and Grend can stay here sitting on his arse,\" she said.\n\nThorun flushed red.\n\nI had just seen my seventeenth name-day when I saw you last. You used to enjoy humiliating me in the practice court then. It would be different, now.\n\n\"Elvar fights her own battles,\" Grend's voice grated through the tension. \"She has won her own renown, and is a name to be respected, and feared.\"\n\nElvar looked at Grend and blinked. The old warrior rarely praised anyone or anything, and all in the room knew it.\n\nGrend looked at Thorun. \"I would sit down, if I were you.\"\n\nThorun's hand moved to the hilt of his sword.\n\nJarl Störr gave Thorun a dark look. \"You will stop your bleating,\" he said quietly, \"or you will leave.\"\n\nThorun's glare flickered from Elvar to Grend to his father, finally withering, and he dropped his eyes.\n\n\"Good.\" Jarl Störr fixed his heavy-lidded gaze on Elvar. \"I came hereto speak with you, daughter, of reconciliation. I would have you back at my side.\" She opened her mouth, but he held a hand up, silencing her. \"Perhaps a marriage alliance with Helka is not the only road to consider. There are other ways to fulfil our ambitions.\" He shrugged, his eyes touching on Silrið." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There is always more than one path through the forest,\" Silrið said. \"If one is brave enough to search for it, and perhaps strong enough to cut down a few trees.\"\n\nJarl Störr grunted. \"Either way,\" he said, \"I would have you with me, Elvar Störrsdottir. Perhaps it is time for you to be given your own drengrs, to lead your own warband.\"\n\nElvar blinked at that, surprise washing away all her anger.\n\nHer father stood.\n\n\"Think on that,\" he said, \"and come tome when you have an answer.\"\n\nElvar stared dumbly at him.\n\nHe turned away and walked from the room, Thorun, Broðir, Silrið and his guards following. Broðir hesitated at the doorway, looking back at Elvar.\n\n\"Comeback to us, sister,\" he said, ashy smile spreading across his face. \"Thorun's an arseling, and I have missed you.\" Then he was gone.\n\nGytha snapped an order and the remaining drengrs left the tavern room. She looking at Grend, then closed the tavern door behind her.\n\nElvar stared down at Grend. She sat down on abruptly weak legs, and then she started laughing." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There,\" Orka said, pointing at a bank of tall reeds growing thick on the riverbank, little more than a collection of different shadows in the first grey of dawn.\n\nMord and Lif bent their backs, changing course on the river and rowing their fisher boat towards the reeds. The two brothers were soaked with sweat, exhaustion heavy upon them, though Orka was just as sweat-soaked. She had taken shifts on the oar through the long dark before dawn.\n\nThe boat's prow cut into the reeds and ground on silt, Orka jumping from the prow onto the bank with a splash. She searched a few moments, then saw what she was looking for, her spear shaft pale and grey and straight among the wind-bent reads. She pulled it from the ground and hefted her hemp sack, tied around the shaft, then clambered back into the boat.\n\nLif looked at her with dark, wide eyes. He was crow-haired and as tall as Virk, his father, but slim and lithe where Virk had been thickset and solid. His beard was patchy, pale skin showing his youth. He could not have seen more than seventeen or eighteen winters.\n\n\"What?\" Orka grunted.\n\n\"Are you hurt?\" he said. \"You are covered in blood.\"\n\nOrka looked over the boat's side and saw her reflection in the river. Her face and hair were thick with crusted blood. Sweat had carved grooves through it, looking like some runic knotwork. She reached up and pulled a fragment of bone from her hair.\n\n\"It is not mine,\" she said, remembering her axe and the woman she had slain at the riverbank less than a day ago. It felt like much longer.\n\n\"Oh,\" Lif breathed. He chose not to give voice to the questions in his eyes." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Partnering with the author, carry on with the tale.\nTags: fantasy, norse mythology, dragons\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: The Shadow of the Gods\nChapter: 26" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There,\" Orka said, pointing at a bank of tall reeds growing thick on the riverbank, little more than a collection of different shadows in the first grey of dawn.\n\nMord and Lif bent their backs, changing course on the river and rowing their fisher boat towards the reeds. The two brothers were soaked with sweat, exhaustion heavy upon them, though Orka was just as sweat-soaked. She had taken shifts on the oar through the long dark before dawn.\n\nThe boat's prow cut into the reeds and ground on silt, Orka jumping from the prow onto the bank with a splash. She searched a few moments, then saw what she was looking for, her spear shaft pale and grey and straight among the wind-bent reads. She pulled it from the ground and hefted her hemp sack, tied around the shaft, then clambered back into the boat.\n\nLif looked at her with dark, wide eyes. He was crow-haired and as tall as Virk, his father, but slim and lithe where Virk had been thickset and solid. His beard was patchy, pale skin showing his youth. He could not have seen more than seventeen or eighteen winters.\n\n\"What?\" Orka grunted.\n\n\"Are you hurt?\" he said. \"You are covered in blood.\"\n\nOrka looked over the boat's side and saw her reflection in the river. Her face and hair were thick with crusted blood. Sweat had carved grooves through it, looking like some runic knotwork. She reached up and pulled a fragment of bone from her hair.\n\n\"It is not mine,\" she said, remembering her axe and the woman she had slain at the riverbank less than a day ago. It felt like much longer.\n\n\"Oh,\" Lif breathed. He chose not to give voice to the questions in his eyes." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Mord was slumped across his oar, fresh blood seeping through the bandage around his head. He was more like his father, fair-haired, broad-faced and solid, a thick hedge of beard on his chin. Orka stepped over their stowed mast and touched his shoulder.\n\nHe looked up at her. \"We need to talk,\" he mumbled. \"Why have we rowed in one big circle around the fjord?\"\n\n\"We will talk later,\" Orka said. \"No time, now. Move,\" she grunted, helping him to stand and guiding him onto a pile of rope and net at the stern of the boat. She pushed them out of the reed-bank with her spear, then sat at the bench and hefted Mord's oar, looking at Lif.\n\n\"How much longer? Where are we going?\" Lif muttered.\n\n\"A little further, then we can look for somewhere safe to camp,\" Orka said.\n\nHe looked at her with black-rimmed eyes, but only nodded. Together they dipped their oars into the river and pulled.\n\nThe boat grated as Orka and Lif dragged it upon to the riverbank, pausing to help Mord clamber out and collapse beneath a willow, then the two of them hauled the boat higher up the riverbank, into a stand of bog myrtle and juniper, almost covering it from sight. Mist curled sluggishly across the river, the morning sun slowly burning it away. Orka stood and looked back the way they had come, the river wide, curling like a serpent through a steep-sided valley before it spilled into the fjord where Fellur village squatted. Beyond the river she saw hills rising towards cliffs; she could still seethe spot where her steading lay.\n\nIt is a barrow, now, not a home." }, { "from": "human", "value": "A flare of grief and anger bubbled up inside her." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It had been kept at bay by the confrontation with Sigrún and the thrall, then the escape, hard rowing and burning muscles and exhaustion suppressing all else fora while.\n\nOrka carried her bag and dropped it beside Mord, then sat with her back to the wide tree and began to rummage through it.\n\nLif kneeled beside his brother, undid the blood-soaked bandage around Mord's head and took it to the riverbank to clean.\n\nMord sat and stared at Orka.\n\n\"Here,\" she said, handing him a strip of salted pork. He reached out and took it, and chewed.\n\n\"Why have we rowed a circle around the fjord?\" Mord asked Orka.\n\nLif joined them, wringing out the bandage.\n\n\"To deceive that niðing Guðvarr?\" Lif said, looking to Orka.\n\n\"Aye,\" she grunted, chewing on a strip of pork. She passed some to Lif. \"He watched us row away south, towards the sea,\" she said.\n\n\"So, when dawn came that is the way he would go to search for us,\" Lif said, a smile creasing his face.\n\n\"I hope so,\" Orka said. \"He is idiot enough.\"\n\n\"Jarl Sigrún is no idiot, though,\" Mord said. \"She would send boats and scouts in all directions, out on the fjord and along the fjord bank.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Orka nodded, \"maybe. Though Jarl Sigrún maybe too busy having her face stitched back together to think on anything else.\"\n\nLif raised an eyebrow. He cleaned Mord's wound, which looked like it had come from some kind of blunt weapon, a club, a spear butt or sword hilt, and re-tied the linen bandage around it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Why are you helping us?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lif asked Orka as he worked. \"What grievance has caused Jarl Sigrún's face to need stitching? And where are Thorkel and Breca?\"\n\nOrka said nothing, just chewed her meat. She drew the three seaxes at her belt, two that she had taken from Thorkel's body and one from Sigrún's thrall. She had left her own seax buried in the timber doorpost of Jarl Sigrún's sleeping chamber. She turned the thrall's seax in her hand, looking at the knotwork carved into the horn hilt. Wolf heads, jaws gaping.\n\nFitting, for an Úlfhéðnar.\n\nTwo of the seaxes had blood on them, dried to black stains now. She opened her pouch, took out a cloth and some oil and set about cleaning them.\n\n\"Thorkel is dead. Slain,\" she said flatly as she worked, \"and Breca has been taken. I went to Jarl Sigrún to talk to her about it.\"\n\n\"And opened her face with a blade?\" Lif said.\n\nOrka ignored him.\n\nA silence settled between them as Orka cleaned her blades, then she set them down and went back to her sack, where she pulled out the loaf of bread and the round of hard cheese and sawed off slices for the three of them.\n\n\"What now?\" Lif said as he chewed on black bread.\n\n\"We sneak back to Fellur and kill that niðing Guðvarr,\" Mord said.\n\nOrka looked at him.\n\n\"Orka?\" Lif said.\n\n\"Do as you wish,\" she said with a shrug.\n\n\"Where are you going?\" Lif asked her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Not back to Fellur village,\" she grunted.\n\n\"Where, then?\" Lif pressed.\n\nOrka gave him a flat look. \"I am going to find my son.\"\n\n\"And we are going to kill Guðvarr,\" Mord repeated.\n\nLif looked at his brother with sorrow. \"How?\" he asked.\n\nMord opened his mouth, but no words followed.\n\n\"Help us,\" Lif asked Orka.\n\n\"No,\" Orka said.\n\n\"We do not need anyone's help,\" Mord said angrily. \"Guðvarr is for us to kill. It is our father who is a corpse because of him, us who owe him blood feud, and that filthy thrall of Jarl Sigrún's.\"\n\n\"You only need to kill Guðvarr,\" Orka told them.\n\n\"No, Guðvarr and the thrall,\" Mord said. \"Our father's death is Guðvarr's fault, but the thrall dealt him his death wounds.\"\n\n\"Sigrún's thrall has a hole in her belly. She may already be dead,\" Orka said, chewing on some cheese.\n\nMord and Lif both stared at Orka, eyes wide, mouths flapping like fish.\n\n\"She may yet live, but most die of a gut-wound,\" Orka added.\n\nA silence settled between them, Lif staring at Orka with a mixture of fear and awe.\n\n\"Guðvarr, then,\" Mord said eventually.\n\n\"But, we tried to kill him, and ended up tied to a post,\" Lif pointed out.\n\nLif looked at Orka. \"You have some clever about you, and some stones,\" he said, \"to sneak into Jarl Sigrún's bedchamber. And some weapons craft, to cut her up and put a hole in her thrall's belly. How would you advise us to go about our revenge?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Orka sighed, along exhalation.\n\n\"Wait,\" she said. \"No point rushing back with all of Fellur seething like a kicked wasp nest. Wait until things are quiet, when they have given up searching and are getting on with planting their fields, or reaping the harvest. That is the time to strike.\"\n\n\"I like it,\" Lif said, nodding. \"See, Mord, now that is some deep-cunning.\"\n\n\"Too long,\" Mord snarled. \"I want Guðvarr dead today. Or on the morrow at the latest.\"\n\nOrka turned her flat stare on him. \"Have you not learned already, what you want has little to do with it?\" She shrugged again. \"You asked for my advice. You don't have to take it.\"\n\n\"I think we should listen to her,\" Lif said. He chewed his bread slowly. Clearly his thought-cage was turning over in his head. \"And we need to learn some weapons craft.\"\n\nMord's face twisted. \"I know weapons craft,\" he said.\n\n\"Aye, as that lump on your head declares,\" Lif said.\n\n\"I was outnumbered,\" Mord muttered.\n\n\"You could teach us,\" Lif said to Orka.\n\nOrka blinked.\n\n\"No,\" she said.\n\n\"You fought Jarl Sigrún and her warrior-thrall, defeated them both. We are not good enough to do this, and our father's bones cry out for vengeance,\" Lif said. \"I would not let him down.\"\n\n\"I am about my own vengeance. I have no time for yours,\" Orka grated.\n\n\"We could help you,\" Lif said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No,\" said Orka and Mord together.\n\n\"Why not?\" Lif said.\n\nOrka looked at them both. \"I do not want your help. I do not need it. Come with me and you will most likely get yourselves killed. Or me.\"\n\n\"We could help you,\" Lif said stubbornly. \"Where are you going, on this vengeance of yours?\"\n\n\"North, and west,\" Orka muttered, looking to the north, towards the fortress and town of Darl, where the snow-tipped peaks of the Boneback Mountains glittered.\n\n\"Wherever it is you are going, you would get there faster if we were rowing you,\" Lif said. \"If you leave us, then you are walking, as that is our boat.\"\n\nOrka stared at him. \"I could take your boat,\" she said.\n\nLif's face twitched at that, a flicker of fear and hurt. Mord growled a curse, his hand reaching for the axe loop at his belt. It was empty, their hastily gathered weapons slung in the boat.\n\n\"I will not take your boat,\" Orka told them. \"I will walk.\"\n\n\"Those who took Breca, do you think they are walking?\" Lif asked.\n\nA twist of pain, like a knife in Orka's belly, at the mention of her son's name.\n\n\"No,\" she said. \"I followed their tracks to the river. They took him from thereby boat.\"\n\nThere was along silence as she chewed that over in her thought-cage.\n\n\"Fine. Row me to Darl,\" she said into the silence, \"and I will teach you what I can.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elvar took another draught from her mead horn and swallowed, feeling some of it trickle down her chin.\n\n\"You've had enough,\" Grend said.\n\nShe gave him a dark look, one that she had learned from him on the many occasions he had inflicted it upon her. Grend shrugged and leaned back in his bench.\n\nThey were still satin the tavern in Snakavik, Elvar drinking an endless river of mead and ale. It was growing dark outside, torches lit and smoke thick in the air, though it always grew darker in Snakavik before the rest of the world, the sun blotted out by the serpent's skull. Agnar and many of the Battle-Grim had returned, filtering in like mist-wraiths as Elvar's thought-cage was consumed with all that her father had said to her, picking over his words like a carrion-crow over old bones.\n\nYou should not have left, he said, I want you back at my side, he said. Agnar of the Battle-Grim is a mercenary whore, he said...\n\nShe ground her teeth.\n\n\"What are you going to do?\" Grend said quietly, his voice sinking into the hum of the tavern. \"I mean besides grinding your teeth to dust.\"\n\n\"Don't know,\" Elvar muttered sullenly.\n\nShock had shifted to anger as Elvar sifted through her father's words. As ever, he said more in the words unspoken. Their meeting had not been what she had expected.\n\nJudgement, disappointment and a sense of my own inadequacy are my most vivid memories of growing up with Jarl Störr as a father.\n\n\"He offered you drengrs of your own. A warband of your own,\" Grend said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elvar nodded. That was what she had wanted, to lead, to prove herself, but her father had wanted her to be sold off as a prize brood bitch to Queen Helka's son, Hakon, so that her children would rule all Vigrið. That was why she had left, to escape such a fate.\n\nIt would have been a thrall's life, no matter if the collar were gilded with gold.\n\n\"What would you have me do?\" she asked Grend.\n\nThe old warrior snorted. \"As if you have ever taken my advice.\"\n\n\"I might,\" she said.\n\nGrend shrugged. \"He is offering you what you wanted, so take it. But I am no deep-thinker, and all know that Jarl Störr does not say all: for every plan spoken, there is another hidden within it.\" He shrugged again. \"Whatever you do, I will follow you.\" He looked at the palm of his hand, at a white scar that ran along it. Elvar remembered seeing the blood well, remembered the words he had spoken, the oath he had sworn.\n\n\"It is... confusing,\" Grend said. \"When a thing does not go as you expected.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Elvar said, nodding and drinking.\n\n\"At least Thorun has remained the same,\" Grend said.\n\n\"He can always be relied upon,\" Elvar grumbled. Thorun had only ever made things worse. \"Thorun was born an arseling and just grew bigger.\"\n\nBoth of them snorted laughter.\n\n\"Something funny?\" a voice said beside her. She looked and saw Biórr sitting and playing tafl with the boy, Bjarn. She had not noticed them return to the tavern or sit so close to her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elvar shrugged, not knowing whereto start.\n\n\"You are Elvar Störrsdottir, then,\" Biórr said to her, his voice remaining steady, eyes fixed on the board and wooden carved pieces.\n\nShe took another drink from her mead horn.\n\n\"Yes,\" she breathed.\n\n\"Why would a jarl's daughter leave a life of privilege behind her, a life of wealth and power, and trade it for an oar-bench, fora life of violence and death?\" he said to no one in particular.\n\nGrend shifted beside her.\n\n\"To prove my worth,\" Elvar said before Grend had a chance to threaten the young warrior. \"To earn my reputation.\"\n\n\"You have done that, right enough,\" Biórr said, eyes flickering to the troll tusk around Elvar's neck.\n\n\"Elvar is the bravest warrior I know,\" Bjarn said, looking up at her with his large, dark eyes. \"She saved me from the serpent.\"\n\n\"Grend saved us both,\" Elvar said.\n\n\"So, you left Snakavik in search of a reputation?\" Biórr asked.\n\n\"Yes,\" Elvar said. \"And to live free, to be my own master, not some play-piece on a tafl board that my father can manoeuvre and sacrifice.\" She waved a hand at the board between Biórr and Bjarn. The boy moved his jarl-piece, making a break fora gap his oathsworn guards had carved through the ranks of their attackers. Biórr's carved wooden warriors were circled around the jarl, a net drawing tight to capture and kill him.\n\nThat is how I feel, Elvar thought. No matter how far I travel, the weave of my life tugs me back here. To Snakavik and my father's web of plans. Should I leave the Battle-Grim and take a place at my father's shoulder, involve myself in his politics and struggles, involve myself in the war for Vigrið? She blew out along breath and realised that Biórr was staring at her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"What?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "she said, glaring.\n\n\"I am thinking that you have a pleasing face,\" he said, with a twitch of his lips, showing his white teeth. \"Fine cheeks, eyes that snatch my breath, and such lips...\"\n\nGrend's chair scraped as he shifted his weight, turning to glare at Biórr.\n\n\"But there is far more to you than just what the eye can see,\" Biórr finished.\n\nElvar's brows knotted.\n\n\"You are fighting a battle in your thought-cage, one that I cannot see, but it is a great struggle; one that is heavy on your shoulders.\" He leaned forwards. \"I could help you.\"\n\nGrend growled deep in his throat. \"She is not for the likes of you,\" the old warrior said, his voice like a slow-drawn blade.\n\nBiórr shrugged. \"From what I am learning of this shieldmaiden, that is a choice you cannot make for her, old warrior.\"\n\nThrud was sat close by, sitting at his usual pastime, picking his nails with a small seax. A sliver of bone hung from a leather cord around his wrist, hacked from the skull of a wight he had slain when he had first joined the Battle-Grim. He huffed a laugh.\n\n\"Something funny?\" Grend asked him.\n\n\"Just waiting to see if the young cub is fast enough to escape the old wolf's teeth and claws,\" Thrud said.\n\nGrend reached out and put a hand on Biórr's wrist.\n\n\"You are right, Elvar will choose her own path. She always has. But I am thereto stamp on the rats in the shadows, those that smile at her and hide their intentions. I am the one who crushes their skulls before they can scratch or bite.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Biórr took his gaze from the tafl game and looked at Grend, then at Grend's fist clamped around his wrist, Elvar seeing a shift in the young man's eyes. The smile and hint of humour that seemed ever-present was gone, replaced with something hard and cold.\n\nThere was a slap of boots and Sighvat was looming over them.\n\n\"Chief wants a word,\" he said to Elvar.\n\nElvar stood and took a moment as the world swayed around her. Grend stood too.\n\n\"Didn't hear the chief ask for you, big man,\" Biórr said.\n\n\"Where Elvar goes, I go,\" Grend growled. \"Agnar knows this, and the sooner you understand that, the better.\"\n\nSighvat nodded an agreement, and then he was leading Elvar and Grend across the tavern, winding between tables and benches, his bulk bashing the elbows and shoulders of all in their path, warriors of the Battle-Grim mingled with locals, fisherfolk, traders and craftsmen, warriors, whores. Agnar was sitting in a corner, his bearskin cloak cast over a chair behind him. Like Elvar, he still wore his coat of mail, his weapons belt unbuckled and lying upon the table, beside a horn carved cup and a jug of ale.\n\nAgnar gestured for Elvar and Grend to sit, Sighvat stomping off in search of food.\n\n\"I am not prying; your business is your own,\" Agnar said. \"I just wanted to check that you are... well.\" He looked from the mead horn in her hand to the mead that glistened on her chin.\n\n\"I am well enough,\" Elvar said with a twist of her lips as she sat heavily, Grend pulling up a chair." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Agnar nodded, as if she had said much more than her words.\n\nAbove them the roof rafters creaked rhythmically. When Agnar rented the hayloft of the tavern the landlord had evicted half a dozen whores who rented the space. By the sounds of it they were making up for their lost coin, most of it from the Battle-Grim now that they had been paid.\n\nSighvat returned and slammed a trencher of food on the table: a joint of cured ham, cheese and flatbread, a bowl of butter, cream and strawberries.\n\nElvar moved to cut herself a slice of ham.\n\n\"That's mine,\" Sighvat said, waving a protective handover the food. \"I'll get yours now.\"\n\nHe stomped off again.\n\n\"Sighvat doesn't share food,\" Agnar smiled.\n\nSighvat returned with another plate of ham and flatbread.\n\n\"That's yours,\" Sighvat said as he sat, the bench creaking. He carved himself a thick slice of ham, chopped some cheese and wrapped it all in the flatbread, then took a huge bite.\n\n\"What?\" he said to Elvar's staring.\n\n\"Nothing,\" Elvar said and reached for her own plate.\n\nAgnar smiled and shrugged.\n\n\"My father has asked me to take my place at his side, offered me drengrs and a warband,\" Elvar said.\n\nI owe him the truth.\n\nAgnar had been good to her, taking her in when she had only seventeen winters on her back. She had told him the truth then, and he had kept his lips closed about it for almost four years. He had promised her no special treatment, that she would earn her place in his shield wall or be cast out, for which she had been grateful. That was all she had ever wanted, the chance to be judged on her own merits. Her own skill, her own courage. Her hand drifted up to the troll tusk around her neck." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And I am still here.\n\nAgnar opened the chest beside him, pulled out two pouches and thrust them across the table at Elvar and Grend.\n\n\"Your share of the Battle-Grim's spoils,\" Agnar said. \"Your father pays well for Berserkir, and troll meat fetches a good price in Snakavik's markets.\"\n\nElvar just looked at the bags of money.\n\nGrend took the two pouches and slipped them into his cloak.\n\nAgnar leaned across the table.\n\n\"Follow where your heart and thought-cage lead you,\" he said, \"but know this. Whatever your choice, whatever your road, you will always have an oar-bench on the Wave-Jarl. You have proved your worth, Elvar Troll-Slayer.\"\n\nHe offered her his arm, one warrior to another.\n\nShe felt a flush of pride swell her chest at Agnar's words, reaching her face to twitch a smile. She leaned forwards and took his arm.\n\nHe is a merchant whore. Her father's words spiralled through her head.\n\nHe is my friend, Elvar snarled back at her imaginary father, though the memory of Agnar in Jarl Störr's mead hall, negotiating over the Berserkir, lingered in her memory.\n\n\"Tell me your decision when you are ready,\" Agnar said, then reached for some food.\n\nElvar sat back with a sigh.\n\nIn truth, she did not know what to do.\n\nAnd then it came to her.\n\nShe stood, her chair tumbling over behind her. \"My thanks, chief,\" she said over her shoulder as she made for the tavern's door. A hand grabbed her as she reached it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was Uspa, her hood pulled up over her head. Thrud was leaning in the shadows, watching her.\n\n\"When are we leaving Snakavik?\" Uspa asked her pleadingly.\n\nElvar blinked and shook Uspa's hand off her.\n\n\"I don't know,\" Elvar said.\n\n\"I told you, I need to leave,\" Uspa hissed.\n\n\"Tell me why, and I'll talk to the chief,\" Elvar said.\n\nUspa looked into Elvar's eyes.\n\n\"You are mead-drunk,\" Uspa said with disgust. \"When you are sober, I will tell you.\"\n\nElvar shrugged. \"You maybe waiting along while,\" she said and pushed her way through into the twilit town. She took a few swaying steps before she paused fora moment, sucking in cleaner air.\n\n\"Where are we going?\" Grend said as he stepped out of the tavern behind her.\n\n\"I'm going to speak to Hrung's head,\" Elvar said.\n\nElvar climbed the steps of her father's mead hall. Gytha led her, Grend following behind. The climb through Snakavik and the skull tunnel had cleared her head, and the searing winds that howled about the fortress had seemed to scour the alcohol from her veins.\n\nGytha led her into the mead hall. The tables were being made ready for the evening meal, thralls bringing out trenchers of meat and jugs of mead, tending to the hearth fires. Elvar reached out and grabbed a jug, Gytha raising a hand to the thrall who was trying to take it.\n\nElvar stepped upon to the dais and walked past her father's high seat, empty now. Gytha stopped before the head of Hrung, whose eyes were closed, the muscles of his face slack, his mouth drooping like his long moustache in what looked like sleep." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"He is sleeping,\" Gytha said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I said I would bring you here, but I told you there would be no point. The giant sleeps longer and more heavily than he used to. Though your father may still flay me for it.\"\n\n\"He will not,\" Elvar said. \"I am Elvar Störrsdottir, how could you refuse me?\"\n\nGytha raised an eyebrow. \"I have not sent him word, for which I will be judged.\"\n\n\"Then send him word that I am here now,\" Elvar shrugged. \"Just, wait a little longer before you do. Give me a few moments with Hrung and then I shall begone.\"\n\n\"The ancient one is asleep, anyway,\" Gytha said as she turned. She paused beside Grend, her fingertips brushing his arm. Grend looked straight ahead and Gytha walked away.\n\n\"You should talk with Gytha,\" Elvar said. \"Spend time with her, while we are in Snakavik.\"\n\n\"No,\" Grend grunted.\n\nElvar looked at him and sighed.\n\n\"Hrung,\" she said, but the giant head did not move.\n\nElvar held the jug beneath the giant's huge nose, dipped her fingertips into the mead and flicked droplets onto his lips.\n\nA ripple passed through the head, a tremor of flesh. An inhaled breath through the nose, the lips parting and Hrung's fat tongue tasted the mead. The eyelids flickered, opening to reveal Hrung's clouded eyes.\n\n\"Elvar,\" he rumbled.\n\n\"I brought you a gift,\" she said, holding the jug up.\n\n\"Ah, but you were always my favourite,\" the head said, a grin spreading across his face." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Not much of a compliment, when you are choosing between my father, brothers and me,\" Elvar said. She tipped some of the jug into Hrung's mouth, mead trickling over his tongue and down his throat. She watched as a stain spread slowly through the wood at her feet.\n\n\"Ah, but it tastes good, even if it does not have the effect it once did,\" Hrung sighed.\n\n\"That is because you are only ahead,\" Elvar said, looking at the stain seeping about her feet.\n\n\"You are still full of wisdom, then,\" Hrung rumbled.\n\n\"I've missed you,\" Elvar smiled, only realising the truth of it as her words left her mouth. Few of her memories from Snakavik had any warmth to them, save for some scattered moments with her younger brother, Broðir, and her conversations with Hrung.\n\n\"I have missed you, too, little one,\" Hrung said. \"It has been dull without you.\" He licked his lips. \"And dry.\"\n\nElvar poured some more mead onto Hrung's tongue and his throat rumbled his pleasure.\n\n\"Ah, but the years have been parched and empty since you left. Not a day has passed since then that I haven't wished Jarl Störr and Silrið had left me dead in Snaka's throat.\"\n\n\"I remember the day you were hoisted from the fjord,\" Elvar said, though she had only seen three winters, then. She had been sitting upon Grend's shoulders, down on one of the harbour piers. \"I thought you looked sad. There was red algae covering your eyes and cheeks. It made you look as if you had wept blood.\"\n\n\"Perhaps I had,\" Hrung said. \"It is no pleasant thing, being swallowed by a serpent-god and having your head bitten clean from your body. Worse still that a small fragment of Snaka's dying power seeped into me and condemned me to life when I would rather rest in death with my giant-kin. As bad as this life can be, though, it is better than the three hundred years I spent sitting in the deep fjord, only Snaka's fangs and fish to count.\" His eyes took her in, lingering on the troll tusk and rings draped about her. He took a deep breath through his large nostrils, strong enough to stir Elvar's braided hair." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You have found what you sought, then,\" he said. \"You reek of battle-fame and great deeds.\"\n\nElvar shrugged.\n\n\"And you have not managed to rid yourself of old loose-lips,\" Hrung said, his cloudy eyes shifting to Grend. The old warrior just stared flatly at the giant.\n\nThe sound of voices echoed in the corridor beyond the mead hall, the slap of many feet on timber.\n\nGytha has told my father of my presence here, then.\n\n\"I would stay longer, but my father is coming to spoil our reunion,\" she said.\n\n\"Ask your question, then,\" Hrung said.\n\n\"Is it so obvious?\" Elvar said.\n\nHrung chuckled, a sound that vibrated through Elvar's chest. \"As much as you like my company, I think need has driven you tome. Ask, little one,\" he said.\n\n\"My father has bid me return to Snakavik, to stand at his side. He has offered me warriors, a warband. Everything that I wanted.\"\n\nHrung's head shifted, severed muscles in his neck contracting. A nod.\n\n\"This is known,\" he said, \"but that is no question.\"\n\n\"My question is: Should I take his offer?\"\n\nGytha appeared at the mead hall's entrance, gesturing for Elvar to leave.\n\nHrung stared at Elvar, his opaque eyes swirling like storm clouds.\n\n\"I have to go,\" Elvar said.\n\n\"Silent and thoughtful and bold in strife, the jarl's bairn should be,\" Hrung intoned.\n\nElvar frowned. \"Silent, thoughtful, bold, I strive to be those things,\" Elvar said. \"But that does not answer my question. When to be bold, that is at the heart of my question. Are my father's words strife? Is that what you are saying? Or, should I be bold in the battle for Vigrið and join my father as he moves against Queen Helka?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Hrung was silent, only the clouds in his eyes moving.\n\nVoices in the corridor.\n\n\"Please,\" Elvar hissed. \"Give me a straight answer, just once.\"\n\nHrung's mouth twisted in a grin. \"That is not my way, little one,\" he said. \"Blame old Snaka, he made me and my giant-kin with a love for words and riddles. You must sift through my gift to you and find the gold in it.\"\n\n\"A riddle, then, anything,\" Elvar said, her eyes flickering between Hrung and the doorway.\n\n\"To answer your question, I will ask you another. Can the sun be cold, or the sea be dry, or the wolf become a lamb?\"\n\nGrend growled in his throat. \"What use is a talking head, if it only ever spouts shite?\"\n\nHrung's eyes fixed onto Grend.\n\n\"Eyes are for seeing, ears for hearing, and a thought-cage for understanding. Unless your thought-cage is already stuffed full of straw, such as yours, Grend the Talker,\" Hrung rumbled.\n\nGrend's eyes narrowed, his hand moving to the axe at his belt.\n\n\"What are you going to do, offended warrior, cutoff my head?\" Hrung laughed, the sound echoing, filling the hall.\n\nElvar laughed too as she tipped the rest of the mead onto Hrung's tongue, then turned and ran, Grend following her. She flew through the doors, past Gytha and out into the sunset as the shadow of her father filled the corridor behind her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Varg stood in the stern of the Sea-Wolf, behind Torvik and a handful of other warriors. More stood behind Varg, all of them jostling and laughing and singing as figures leaped over the starboard top-rail and ran the oar-dance, leaping from oar to oar as the Sea-Wolf was rowed into a sharp-sloped fjord. Surviving a summer storm seemed to be something worth celebrating among the Bloodsworn. Varg agreed, a faint echo of the fear still lingering in the pit of his belly that he had felt as the waves had risen and the lightning-scarred skies had unleashed a torrent so heavy he could not see his hand in front of his nose. He had been certain his death was at hand, fragmented memories seared into his thought-cage like the incandescent bursts of lightning that had crackled through the heavens above him, the sound of Einar bellowing orders and the dimly glimpsed figure of Glornir strapping himself to the top-rail so that he could keep his grip on the tiller without being hurled overboard. The skies were clear, now, as if the storm had never been, the air fresh, and the sun was sinking into the rim of the world, turning the now calm ocean and fjord to molten bronze.\n\nTorvik climbed onto the top-rail, looked back at Varg and the others, then leaped onto the first oar, teetered fora moment, then found his balance and leaped to the next. Only two days had passed since they left Liga, but to Varg it had felt like a lifetime.\n\nLike anew life, as if I have been reborn.\n\nHis hands were raw and blistered from rowing and handling what felt like leagues of sea-soaked rigging, his face red and burned by the sun, his clothing sodden from the sudden storm that had swept out of the north, and yet he felt... happy. It was a strange sensation, when all he had known his whole life was toil and misery, the only light in his life during the long dark of servitude being Frøya. He tensed just at the memory of her name, aflutter of happiness and guilt in his belly, a reminder of why he was here, of the oath he had sworn. To find her body and avenge her murder. To rip and tear his sister's killers. He had sworn it as he had stood blood-drenched over Kolskegg's still-warm corpse and his oath hovered now in his mind and blood like a dark-winged raven, croaking that time was passing." }, { "from": "human", "value": "I have not forgotten you." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I will never forget you. And my oath stands, I will make it happen. But if I feel some moments of cheer as I walk that path, or find some friends, is that so bad a thing? Should it feel so... wrong?\n\n\"Goon, No-Sense,\" a voice said behind him, Svik pushing him, and Varg blinked, shook his head and saw that there was no one between him and the top-rail. He jumped upon to the rail and stood there a moment. Around half the crew were rowing the Sea-Wolf, thirty oars rising and falling, the other half taking part in this oar-dance. Ahead of him Torvik leaped from oar to oar, grinning and whooping. Varg sucked in a deep breath and leaped onto the first oar, timed it so that it was dipping as he landed, his feet spread, knees bending as the oar began to rise. He felt the air churn around him, swirled his arms and then he was stable, standing on the oar, a grin splitting his face.\n\n\"Get on with you,\" Svik yelled, the warrior standing on the top-rail now, waiting his turn at the first oar. Varg grinned and leaped, landing on the next oar with his left foot, dipping and pushing off, leaping to the next one, moving on as if the oars were steppingstones across a river that were too small to take both of his feet.\n\nThere was a cry and a splash ahead of him, and Varg glanced to see Torvik disappear into the fjord's ice-blue embrace, an explosion of sun-flecked foam as he resurfaced. Varg ran on, along the entire starboard length of the ship until he was leaping onto the rail before the prow. A smile and dip of her head from Vol the Seiðr-witch from her usual place in the prow, one of Edel's wolfhounds there, panting and watching Varg, nudging him fora neck-scratch. He quickly obliged and then he was leaping back onto the portside rail, one foot slipping and then he was leaping again, airborne, weightless, landing with a thump on the first oar. There was a flash of a black beard and teeth as Jökul the smith grinned over his oar at Varg." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Varg grinned back as he bent his legs and leaped onwards. There were many things that he was learning in his short time with the Bloodsworn, shield and spear under the merciless tutelage of Røkia, ship craft from seemingly everyone, but some skills came naturally to Varg and did not need teaching. Endurance, determination, and balance. He was light on his feet. On Kolskegg's farm during the Winternight celebration that followed the harvest Varg had taken part in the tree-run, where those willing had to run across a river full of cut timber trunks that spun and moved under your feet. It was not unknown for men and women to be crushed or drowned during the trial, but Varg had won it every year since his first attempt, when he had only eleven winters on his shoulders. And so, he was enjoying this trial and faring better than many of the other Bloodsworn, as attested by the shrieks and splashes occurring around him.\n\nThe stern was insight, a handful of oars dipping and rising between him and Glornir, who stood at the tiller. Varg landed on an oar, his leg bending to go with the oar's flow, but it jerked beneath him, dipping when it should be rising. He swung his arms, balanced fora heartbeat, then his foot was sliding and he was falling, plummeting to the water below. He glimpsed a snarl of red beard staring over the oar-port, Einar Half-Troll grinning as he watched Varg fall, and then he hit the water.\n\nIt was cold as ice, snatching his breath away. He sank, turning, thrashing fora moment, unsure which way was up. He expelled some air and tracked the bubbles, followed them, and then his head was bursting from the water and he was gasping in air." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The hull of the Sea-Wolf was gliding away, Glornir steering the ship towards a shallow bank on the fjord. A few figures were still leaping across the oars, Svik among them. Varg swam for shore, along with a dozen or soothers.\n\nShouts drifted from the Sea-Wolf and the anchor-stone in its wooden frame was heaved onto the top-rail and dropped overboard, Glornir choosing to get his feet wet rather than scrape the hull on the fjord's bank. Bloodsworn were leaping over the side and splashing ashore as Varg's feet touched the ground and he began to wade to shore. A figure appeared, standing on the bank, waiting for him.\n\nIt was Røkia, a shield and spear in her hands.\n\nVarg shook his head as he emerged from the water, a wind blowing across him and causing him to shiver, despite the lingering warmth of the setting sun.\n\n\"You are not serious?\" Varg said to her. \"I am soaked to the skin– unfairly, I might add, as Einar Half-Troll threw me from his oar.\"\n\n\"I am always serious,\" Røkia said, stone-faced.\n\nThis is a truth, Varg thought. He sighed. \"Give me a few moments to change my tunic and breeches and dry off in what is left of this sun.\"\n\n\"Ha, just what I would have expected from a warrior with No-Sense,\" Røkia said. \"Do you think your enemy will kindly wait for you to dry your feet and arse if they come upon you in a fjord or river? No, they will fall upon you like wolves and seek to carve you into small pieces, using their good fortune of finding you unprepared. You must learn to fight and survive under the worst of conditions, not the best.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That is what I have done all my life,\" Varg muttered under his breath.\n\nRøkia threw his shield to him and strode away, either not hearing or choosing to ignore his words. Varg caught the shield rather than let it empty his mouth of teeth, and trudged after her, dripping on the fjord's grassy bank. He glimpsed Svik on the Sea-Wolf's top-rail, holding his arms up and dancing a jig.\n\nHe must have won the oar-dance.\n\nRøkia turned again, this time throwing him his spear, which he caught deftly, its leather sheath in place over the blade.\n\n\"Come and kill me then,\" Røkia said, a cold smile on her lips as she raised her shield and set her feet.\n\nThere was a smell of woodsmoke as fires were kindled andiron pots hung for supper, the crackle of butter melting in pans. Varg's belly growled.\n\nHe sighed, shoulders slumped, then sucked in a deep breath and straightened.\n\nMight as well get on with it. Getting beaten up by Røkia is the only path to food.\n\nHe lifted his shield and checked the grip on his spear, as Røkia had taught him. They were only a few days away from Liga, but each night Røkia had put his shield and spear in his fists and continued with his training. At first, she had continued teaching him shield work, adding the principle of treating the shield as a weapon as well as a form of defence, using both the iron boss and the hide-bound rim. The second night she had put a spear in his hand and taught him the two main grips. He approached Røkia now with an overhand grip, the shaft angled down, his blade pointed at her shield boss. This gave him a longer reach than the reverse grip, with which he noted Røkia held her own spear, though he knew his overhand grip was weaker." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Best to use the longer reach as I approach, a chance to draw blood before I am in range of her own strikes.\n\nRøkia grunted as he approached and he took that as her approval of his choice, and then he was jabbing at her, aiming at shoulders, legs, trying to find a weakness around her shield.\n\n\"Sidesteps,\" she grunted at him over her shield rim. \"You'll not find an opening by coming straight at me like a stupid old boar.\"\n\nVarg listened, shuffling left and right, keeping his spear shaft jabbing, in and out, his strikes almost finding her flesh, but always ending with the dull thud of his leather-bound blade meeting her linen-wrapped shield. And then Røkia was stepping in, using her reverse grip on her spear to sweep his own away, stepping closer still, her blade slipping inside his shield and raking across his chest, her sharp-angled face close enough that he could smell the apple and onions on her breath.\n\n\"You now have a wound,\" she said, then smiled at him as she shoved her shield into his chest. He took a step back, stumbled over her foot that she had sneakily placed behind his, and then his arse was on the grass and he was looking up at her, her leather-wrapped blade touching his throat.\n\nA position he was becoming all too familiar with.\n\n\"A good start,\" she said, \"but when you failed to strike me, you should have broken away and shifted your grip. And never stop fighting until one of us is dead. I wounded you with my strike, but it would not have been a killing blow. Not immediately, anyway.\"\n\nShe offered him an arm and heaved him to his feet.\n\n\"Again,\" she said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Varg stood in a line of the Bloodsworn, a bowl in hand. It was dark now, the summer sun long disappeared beyond the horizon, the sky a scattering of stars above him. He had changed out of his sweat-and fjord-soaked clothes into afresh tunic and breeches from his sea-chest. Hearth fires flickered, sending shadows dancing, the sound of the fjord lapping at the shore and the creak of the Sea-Wolf on the water. He reached the pot hanging over the fire and ladled fish stew into his bowl, then turned and walked away, looking for somewhere to sit. He saw Svik stooping to speak to Einar Half-Troll, who was as big as the boulder he was sitting against. Svik pulled a loaf of bread from beneath his cloak and handed it to Einar, then sat down with the big man.\n\n\"Congratulations for your victory on the oars,\" Varg said to Svik as he approached them.\n\n\"It is all in the reflexes,\" Svik smiled and dipped his head at Varg. \"I do not like getting wet,\" he said. \"It makes a mess of my beard, so I have learned to have light feet and fine balance.\"\n\n\"That is something I do not have to worry about,\" Varg said, rubbing his head and chin. Although, to his surprise, he found that his stubble had grown and it was no longer scratching and itching his palm.\n\n\"No, but it will grow,\" Svik said solemnly. \"Soon you will have hair as pretty as mine. You did well on the oars. It is a shame you... slipped.\"\n\n\"I did not slip. I was thrown,\" Varg grunted, notable to stop himself looking at Einar. \"As I think you may know.\" He looked pointedly at the loaf of bread that Einar was ripping chunks from. \"And as Einar well knows.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I like bread,\" Einar grunted.\n\n\"Are we even, now?\" Varg asked the big man.\n\n\"No,\" Einar said, not looking at Varg. He tore another chunk of bread from the loaf Svik had given him and dipped it in his fish stew, slurped on it, then slowly looked up at Varg. \"You got wet, but I see that you are already dry. Me, I can count your teeth by their imprints in my leg, and will be able to do so for all the years of my life.\"\n\n\"It was a fight,\" Varg shrugged.\n\n\"That is a fair point, Half-Troll,\" Svik said. \"You were trying to smash his bones with your fists.\"\n\n\"I was holding back,\" Einar sniffed. \"I was being kind. I even told him to stay down, and how does he repay my kindness? By biting me.\" He pulled a face. \"I do not like to be bitten.\"\n\n\"I am now most clearly aware of that,\" Varg assured him, \"and I swear that I will never put my teeth in you again.\"\n\n\"Hhmmm,\" Einar rumbled, his brows knitting. Varg thought he could almost seethe big man's thought-cage churning as he turned Varg's words over. With another rumbling breath Einar tore a chunk of bread from his loaf and offered it to Varg. \"Sit and eat, then,\" Einar said.\n\n\"My thanks,\" Varg said, thinking that this was as close to a truce as he was likely to get. He sat beside Einar, as Torvik appeared and joined them.\n\n\"I hear Einar threw you in the fjord,\" the young apprentice scout and blacksmith said, a big grin on his face. Varg looked from Torvik to Einar." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "slipped,\" Varg said.\n\nEinar nodded, a rumble of what Varg took to be approval reverberating in his chest.\n\nTorvik looked at the three of them.\n\n\"You slipped on Einar's oar, along with an uncommon number of others, and Svik won,\" Torvik said. \"Hmmm.\"\n\nVarg slurped on his bread.\n\n\"It is true, I am blessed with good fortune,\" Svik said, twirling his red moustache. \"And also, I am a remarkable oar-dancer. What can I say? Some bread for your fish stew?\" Svik offered to Torvik, smiling.\n\n\"I hear the Skullsplitter was a remarkable oar-dancer,\" Torvik said as he took Svik upon his offer of bread.\n\n\"Skullsplitter?\" Svik said, raising an eyebrow. \"No, the chief was big and heavy as a bear. Dancing on oars was not one of Skullsplitter's skills. Splitting skulls with along-axe, however...\"\n\n\"How did a warrior like that fall?\" Torvik muttered. \"I heard it was in a sea-battle, falling from the Sea-Wolf's rail in a coat of mail and drowning.\" Torvik shook his head.\n\n\"Aye,\" Svik said, his face unusually melancholy. He sighed and shook his head. \"It was a hard-fought battle, and no denying.\" He looked around at their camp, the Bloodsworn going about their evening meal. \"If I were you,\" Svik said in hushed tones, \"I would not speak so loudly of Skullsplitter's fall around Glornir. He still mourns the death of his brother; it is a grief that sits heavy on his shoulders.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Torvik nodded.\n\nFootfalls and the murmuring of conversation stilled. Glornir walked towards the hearth fire, Vol at his side, and Skalk, Queen Helka's Galdurman followed them, his knotted staff in his fist. The two warriors from Queen Helka's retinue were with him, gleaming in their fine brynjas. The man Varg had learned was named Olvir, a scar over one eyebrow shifting the set of his eyes, and the proud-faced, thin-lipped woman was called Yrsa. They both wore swords at their hips and dark cloaks over their shoulders, both pinned with brooches of silver fashioned into the likeness of eagle wings. Wherever Skalk went, they were close behind him. Varg had seen them all taking shifts on the oar-bench, and glimpsed them bailing water furiously during the sea storm that had swept over them.\n\n\"Your ears, Bloodsworn,\" Glornir said as he came to standby the hearth fire. \"For those who do not know, this is Skalk, famed skáld and Galdurman of Queen Helka. He has some words for us, about our mission.\"\n\nVarg stared at Skalk. He was a tall man with an honest face, laughter lines thick as crow's talons at his eyes. His shoulders and chest were broad, everything about him suggesting a warrior's bearing, not a sorcerer's.\n\nHe is a Galdurman... I could ask him to perform an akáll and save myself much time. Who knows how long it will be before Glornir is satisfied that I have proven myself?\n\n\"It is always good to know what lies ahead, no?\" Skalk said, nodding and smiling at the Bloodsworn. \"So, I will tell you why my queen has hired you, and what I know of the task she wishes you to perform. We are travelling to the source of the River Slågen, from which this fjord flows.\" He gestured to the glossy-dark of the fjord behind them, glittering in the starlight. \"That river will take us to the foothills of the Boneback Mountains, on the north-western border of my queen's lands. Something there is killing her people.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"A lusty ram or aggrieved goat, perhaps,\" Svik called out, laughter spreading around him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We have all heard the tales of loneliness among those who live within the shadow of the Bonebacks, and what that can do to a man.\"\n\n\"This is no laughing matter,\" Skalk said, pausing to stare at Svik. \"Not if it were your kin that were being... consumed. At first, people were disappearing from farms and more remote places, and we thought it was on account of raids from Jarl Störr across the river.\" A frown creased his brow as he mentioned the jarl's name, a flicker of fire-glow in his eyes. \"The region shares a border with Jarl Störr's land, and though there is officially peace between the jarl and my queen,\" he looked around them and smiled knowingly, showing small white teeth behind his blond beard, \"we all know that a jarl teaches his drengrs the art of war through raiding.\" Warriors among the Bloodsworn nodded, seeming to Vargas if they were remembering their own pasts.\n\n\"But then, we began to find those who had disappeared,\" Skalk continued. \"Or, find parts of them.\" Another frown. \"They were being eaten. Or at least, some of them were.\" He shook his head. \"A queen must protect her people, and so action must betaken. But the queen's hird are spread thinly along her borders, and so she thought of you, the Bloodsworn, known for their fair-fame reputation, and she heard news that you were within her own lands, at Liga.\" He spread his arms, gave another smile. \"There are vaesen loose in Queen Helka's domain, killing and eating her people, and they must be stopped.\"\n\n\"What vaesen?\" a voice called out. It was Røkia, Varg saw.\n\nSkalk shrugged. \"That I do not know. There have been no witnesses. Ones with big teeth and long claws, I would guess, judging by the bite marks and wounds on the remains we have found. Trolls, or Huldra-folk, maybe Vittor, or wights? I do not know. But whatever they are, I suspect that there are more than one or two of them.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"How many dead have you found?\" Svik called out.\n\nSkalk looked at him.\n\n\"It is hard to tell exactly, you understand,\" Skalk said. \"Here a leg, there an arm, elsewhere just a bloodstain.\" He looked up at the star-flecked sky. \"Perhaps as many as thirty.\"\n\nMurmurs rippled around the Bloodsworn.\n\n\"That is a lot of dead, which means a lot of vaesen, most likely,\" anew voice said, quiet and sinuous. It was Vol, standing beside Glornir. \"They must have crossed from beyond the Bonebacks, and that means finding away past the Grimholt. Past your tower of guards. How is that possible?\"\n\nSkalk turned a heavy-browed look upon Vol, eyes abruptly cold and hard.\n\n\"I am not accustomed to answering the questions of thralls,\" he said, \"or hearing their criticisms.\"\n\nGlornir straightened, and Varg felt a shift around him, a sudden tension in the air that made the hairs on his arms stand on end.\n\n\"It is not a criticism,\" Vol said, speaking slowly and ignoring Skalk's insults, \"just an observation. If vaesen have found away through the Bonebacks...\"\n\n\"I am not being clear,\" Skalk said, glowering at Vol. \"You area thrall. Do not speak tome unless I give you permission.\"\n\n\"Vol has saved my ship and my crew more times than I can count,\" Glornir said with a glare. \"Thrall, freedman, all on my ship risk their lives, and will be respected for that. If you choose to travel on my ship, with my crew, you will give her the same respect as any other of my Bloodsworn. Or we are going to have a problem. Do I make myself clear?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Skalk stiffened, and his guards, Olvir and Yrsa, shifted." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Fingertips twitched, brushed a sword hilt.\n\n\"She is a Tainted thrall,\" Skalk said with a sneer.\n\nGlornir shrugged. \"I am not in the habit of repeating my words,\" he said.\n\n\"Neither am I.\"\n\n\"It is my ship, and my crew. You can always walk from here,\" Glornir said.\n\n\"It's my coin,\" Skalk said, his voice quiet now, cold.\n\n\"Queen Helka's coin,\" Glornir replied. \"If you want to pay someone else for your vaesen-hunting.\" Glornir gave a thin smile, holding Skalk's gaze.\n\nThere was along, drawn-out moment, and then Skalk smiled. \"As you wish. You will do the fighting, and the dying if there is any to be done, so...\" A shift in his shoulders suggested the matter meant nothing to him. \"I will ignore the collar about your thrall's throat.\" He looked around at the gathered Bloodsworn, his easy smile back on his face. \"That is all I know. We shall travel there together and root out the vaesen-filth. And Queen Helka will show her gratitude to you with a chest of silver.\"\n\nSkalk stepped around Glornir to the iron cookpot hanging over the fire and ladled some fish stew into a bowl, then walked away, Olvir and Yrsa following.\n\nVarg sat and stared at his own bowl, his thought-cage whirling.\n\nGaldurmen and vaesen. I am sailing into an adventure, hunting trolls or wights or whatever the Boneback Mountains are hiding.\n\nA shiver ran through him.\n\nTroll-hunting is along way from Kolskegg's farm." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There was a humming in his blood: fear or excitement, he was not sure." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elvar sat on a patch of wind-blasted bone high on Snaka's skull, staring out over the fjord of Snakavik far below as the sun rose behind her. Tendrils of mist coiled like serpents around the cliffs that edged the fjord, gulls swirling small as motes of dust, and the fjord glistened in the new sun.\n\nGrend lay snoring beside her, wrapped in his cloak.\n\nElvar stood, breathing out along sigh, and buckled on her weapons belt, the familiar weight of sword and seax settling around her waist and hips.\n\n\"Come on,\" she said, nudging Grend with her toe.\n\n\"Could have chosen somewhere warmer to sit and think,\" he muttered as he climbed to his feet, then looked at her. \"I hope it has helped?\"\n\n\"It has,\" she said, striding off.\n\nThey made their way over thick ridges of bone, until they came to the skull tunnel. Grend nodded to guards bearing Jarl Störr's yellow shields as smoke and firelight wrapped around them and they descended through Snaka's thick skull into the town below.\n\nElvar walked in silence, chewing over her thoughts, working through all that Hrung had said. Like her father, he said far more with the words he did not speak, but with Hrung Elvar knew that there was an impartial truth wrapped within his words that she had never been able to uncover in her father's.\n\nGrend walked quietly beside her, something that Elvar always valued in his company. He never pushed or hurried her, always followed, whether he agreed or not.\n\nThey turned a corner and the tavern appeared before them, a painted sign creaking over the door, a soft fire-glow leaking from shuttered windows and the open door." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Grend's hand touched her shoulder.\n\n\"Wait,\" he breathed, the rasp of leather on wood as his axe slid into his fist.\n\n\"What?\" Elvar said, frowning. Then she realised.\n\nThere were shouts from within the tavern, the clang of iron, a scream.\n\nShe reached for her sword hilt and broke into a run, Grend a few steps behind her.\n\nA voice: loud, female, shouting. A flash of searing light exploded through the door and threw the window shutters open. Elvar and Grend stumbled, blinded fora moment. Elvar blinked and rubbed her eyes, her vision returning quickly, dappled with white spots. She ran on.\n\nFigures burst through the open doorway: five, six, seven, one with something draped over their shoulder. All had sharp iron in their fists, some glittered in mail. They were not the Battle-Grim.\n\nElvar was close. She drew her sword in one fist, her seax in the other.\n\nOne saw her, a blond-haired warrior, tall and broad with a thick beard, silver rings about his neck and arms. A black raven's wing was braided into his hair. He wore a brynja and had a sword in his fist, and he turned to meet her as Elvar ran at them.\n\nTheir swords met, sparks grating, the clangour loud in the silent streets, Elvar holding the warrior's sword in a bind and slashing at his belly with her seax. More sparks, the man grunting, though the iron links of his brynja held. Another warrior turned on Elvar, a woman, axe and seax in her hands. The rest ran on, downhill and away from the tavern." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The woman lunged at Elvar, who stumbled away, sweeping the blond warrior's sword wide with her seax, chopping down into his calf with her sword, slicing the blade deep through leg-wraps and breeches into flesh as she stepped away.\n\nGrend slammed into the woman lunging at Elvar, the two of them crashing into the tavern wall.\n\nThe blond warrior yelled and swayed, and dropped to one knee as his injured leg gave way. He glared at Elvar, his face twisting, muscles twitching, and his lips drew back, revealing jagged teeth, sharp canines. Elvar stabbed at him but he moved, faster than Elvar thought possible, an arm swinging to bat Elvar's sword away. She stepped forwards, off balance, close to the blond warrior, looking straight into his eyes. A hissed breath as she met his eyes causing her to freeze a moment. They were grey, colours shifting like sun and rain through clouds, the pupil narrowed to a pinprick.\n\nHe is Tainted, she thought. He was snarling at her, trying to rise, but his wounded leg was failing him. He staggered and Elvar stabbed with her seax, fear giving her speed and strength, and her blade punched deep into his throat. She pulled away and ripped it out. There was a spurt of arterial blood, black in the half-light, and he toppled to the ground.\n\nElvar stood over him, chest heaving, and saw Grend push away from the tavern wall, his axe swinging. With a spurt of blood and a gurgled scream the woman sank down the wall, leaving a smeared trail of blood on the whitewashed wattle and daub.\n\nThey stood there, staring at each other." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Shouts sounded from inside the tavern and Elvar ran through the door.\n\nShe was met with the stink of blood and voided bowels, burned flesh.\n\nThrud lay across a table, a red gash across his throat, another wound in his back, blank eyes staring. Biórr was slumped unconscious against a wall, blood pulsing from a wound in his shoulder, more blood sheeting his face. Uspa lay on her face on the ground, three or four bodies piled around her. Their hair and clothes were smoking, the flesh on their faces and hands charred and blackened.\n\nGrend checked the room, as Elvar ran to Biórr and crouched beside him.\n\nThe loft-ladder had been moved, wedging the loft-hatch closed, blows from above shaking the roof. Elsewhere in the roof an axe head burst through timber with the sound of cracking and a form crashed through in an explosion of timber and straw, landing in a cloud of dust.\n\nSighvat stood, axe raised, spitting and sputtering, a half-formed battle-cry on his lips. He frowned when he saw Elvar.\n\n\"Where are they?\" he said.\n\n\"Dead or fled,\" Elvar told him.\n\nGrend kicked the ladder away, freeing the loft-hatch.\n\nAgnar dropped from the hatch to the ground, his face a snarl, sword in his fist. He took in the scene as Elvar had done, and strode to Uspa as other Battle-Grim dropped down to the ground and turned one of the dead with his boot. Heat still radiated from the corpse.\n\n\"More escaped,\" Elvar called to Agnar as her fingers found Biórr's pulse in his neck. He groaned, eyelids flickering." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Carry on with the plot as the author's writing partner.\nTags: fantasy, norse mythology, dragons\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: The Shadow of the Gods\nChapter: 29" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Shouts sounded from inside the tavern and Elvar ran through the door.\n\nShe was met with the stink of blood and voided bowels, burned flesh.\n\nThrud lay across a table, a red gash across his throat, another wound in his back, blank eyes staring. Biórr was slumped unconscious against a wall, blood pulsing from a wound in his shoulder, more blood sheeting his face. Uspa lay on her face on the ground, three or four bodies piled around her. Their hair and clothes were smoking, the flesh on their faces and hands charred and blackened.\n\nGrend checked the room, as Elvar ran to Biórr and crouched beside him.\n\nThe loft-ladder had been moved, wedging the loft-hatch closed, blows from above shaking the roof. Elsewhere in the roof an axe head burst through timber with the sound of cracking and a form crashed through in an explosion of timber and straw, landing in a cloud of dust.\n\nSighvat stood, axe raised, spitting and sputtering, a half-formed battle-cry on his lips. He frowned when he saw Elvar.\n\n\"Where are they?\" he said.\n\n\"Dead or fled,\" Elvar told him.\n\nGrend kicked the ladder away, freeing the loft-hatch.\n\nAgnar dropped from the hatch to the ground, his face a snarl, sword in his fist. He took in the scene as Elvar had done, and strode to Uspa as other Battle-Grim dropped down to the ground and turned one of the dead with his boot. Heat still radiated from the corpse.\n\n\"More escaped,\" Elvar called to Agnar as her fingers found Biórr's pulse in his neck. He groaned, eyelids flickering." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They took something,\" Elvar frowned, picturing in her thought-cage the figures who had fled. At first she had thought it was one of the chests Agnar's payment had been held in, but it had been too supple, slumped across a warrior's shoulder.\n\n\"They took the boy,\" she said, standing and looking at Uspa. She was breathing, a bruise already purpling along one side of her jaw as Sighvat lifted her.\n\n\"Who are they?\" Agnar growled.\n\n\"Ilska's Raven-Feeders,\" Elvar said. She walked out of the tavern, back to the warrior she had slain. He was blond-haired, with a thick beard now slick with his own blood. His war kit was good: a fine sword and brynja. She lifted the raven feather in his hair with her boot.\n\n\"The Raven-Feeders,\" she called out. He was the warrior who had spoken to her as she had followed Agnar to see Jarl Störr.\n\nAgnar joined her, frowning. No words were spoken, but Elvar knew what he was thinking.\n\nWhy did they take the boy? Tainted children were worth coin, but not like an adult Berserkir or Úlfhéðnar. But whatever the reason, such an insult could not stand.\n\nAgnar yelled a few orders and in a dozen heartbeats Elvar, having snatched up her shield, was following him into the snarl of Snakavik, Grend, Sighvat with the Hundur-thrall and a score of Battle-Grim behind them.\n\n\"There it is.\" Elvar pointed with her sword at a tavern that came into view as they turned a corner. Agnar barked a command and a handful of the Battle-Grim peeled away, Sighvat leading them, slipping into side streets to check for other entrances and exits to the building." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Without waiting, Agnar shrugged his shield from his back into his fist and kicked the door in, throwing himself into the tavern, ducking and turning, shield raised, sword ready. Elvar followed behind him, covering his back, Grend and other forms pouring through the doorway.\n\nA man cowered over the hearth fire, stirring the embers with an iron poker.\n\n\"Where are they?\" Agnar snarled at him.\n\nThe man froze a moment, mouth open, Elvar seeing his eyes measuring Agnar and the Battle-Grim.\n\nEverything is a choice, her father had said to her once. Truth or lie, fight or flight, love or hate.\n\n\"They are gone,\" the man said.\n\nSighvat crashed into the room through aback doorway, timber splintering, the Hundur-thrall at his side. Footsteps drummed on stairs, voices shouting.\n\n\"Empty, chief,\" Sighvat said.\n\n\"Where?\" Agnar said to the landlord, striding towards him.\n\n\"The docks.\" The man pointed with his iron poker.\n\n\"If you're lying tome, I'll be back to cut your tongue from your mouth and throw it on the fire,\" Agnar said, then turned and left the tavern.\n\nSighvat growled at the thrall, who spent a few moments on all fours sniffing the tavern floor and benches, then straightened and hurried after Agnar.\n\nThey hurried through Snakavik's streets, winding ever downwards, towards the harbour. The streets were filling, now, but all parted to let the stern-faced warriors with naked steel in their fists through. The Hundur-thrall led them on, pausing as they reached the docks and the road split. Grend peeled away to speak to a handful of harbour guards." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That way,\" Grend pointed, even as the thrall loped off in the same direction. They ran now, feet slapping on stone, past the pier that the Wave-Jarl was moored upon, a score of the Battle-Grim aboard it, guarding the ship and what was left of the coin Agnar had been paid by Jarl Störr. The shrieking of gulls was louder, the reek offish and salt heavy in the air.\n\nElvar saw a ship pulling out into the harbour, a sleek-lined drakkar, mast upright, sail hoisted on the yardarm but not unfurled. Oars dipped and pulled as the ship moved towards the fangs of Snaka that breached the water. Agnar and the Battle-Grim sprinted, only stopping when the pier met the green-blue water of the fjord, waves lapping against timber. Elvar and Grend halted at Agnar's shoulder, the Battle-Grim spreading in a line beside them, all staring at the drakkar as it cut a white wake through the harbour. Grey shields with black wings painted upon them lined the drakkar's top-rail, a figure standing at the stern holding the tiller: a woman. Elvar could see her clearly, shafts of light piercing through the eye sockets and cracks in Snaka's skull to illuminate her. She was looking back at them, hair dark as a raven's wings, bound with silver at her nape, a woollen tunic of grey, a sword at her hip, hilt and buckle glinting with gold.\n\n\"Ilska,\" Agnar murmured beside Elvar.\n\nIlska the Ruthless. Ilska the Cruel. Elvar knew of her battle-fame, had heard many a tale of her around the hearth fire. Ilska was a woman who had risen fast and far, carving her reputation in blood and steel." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Beside her stood a man, tall and hulking, a wolf pelt draped across his shoulders. He leaned upon along-axe, the sides of his head shaved like Agnar's, but where Agnar's hair was yellow as ripe corn, this man's was black as the grave. Like Ilska, he was looking back at the Battle-Grim as they lined along the pier.\n\nAgnar thumped his sword hilt into his shield with a rhythmic pounding. Elvar joined him, and in heartbeats all of the Battle-Grim were beating upon their shields: a rowing rhythm, a battle rhythm. A promise.\n\nElvar saw the flash of white teeth as Ilska grinned. She raised an arm to Agnar, saluting or mocking, Elvar did not know.\n\n\"She will come to regret stealing from me,\" Agnar said and spat at the lapping waves.\n\nElvar laid out a wool blanket on a table and laid her battle-gains upon it. A sword and scabbard, belt, a brynja, a pouch with bone dice and a few copper coins. A silver torc and three silver arm rings. Boots, breeches and a bloodstained tunic. She had stripped it all from the blond warrior's corpse outside their tavern, as washer right.\n\nThe sword and brynja will fetch a good price, and the boots, breeches and tunic look like they will fit Grend, she thought.\n\nDeeper inside the tavern Biórr was being tended by Kráka. Sighvat was asking Biórr questions, but the young warrior was just staring and mumbling. On the table next to him Thrud's corpse had been wrapped in his cloak. They would take his body to the Sea-Wolf and drop it into the sea, once they were out on the ocean currents. The corpses of the Raven-Feeders were thrown naked into the street. Now that the blood-quickening that battle brings had left her, Elvar felt her stomach lurch at the sight of the burned corpses that had been found collapsed around Uspa." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That is power I have never seen from a Seiðr-witch before, she thought, and I have grownup around Silrið and then Kráka.\n\nUspa was still unconscious, laid upon a table close to Biórr and Kráka.\n\nAgnar was talking to the landlord, counting out coin from a pouch to pay for the damage the Battle-Grim had brought upon the tavern.\n\n\"It is not Agnar's fault,\" Elvar said.\n\n\"No, but it is deep-cunning,\" Grend said as he rolled up the items he had stripped from his kill. A hand-axe and seax, a fine-tooled belt, tunic and boots. \"If Agnar leaves Snakavik known for the destruction of his resting place,\" Grend continued, \"and a reputation for not paying, then the next time he is here the Battle-Grim will most likely be sleeping on the deck of the Wave-Jarl.\"\n\nElvar grunted at that wisdom. She did not mind sleeping on a ship's deck, but recognised the pleasures of a straw bed and a hearth fire. She was about to tie her newfound treasure in the wool blanket when she paused and lifted one of the silver arm rings. It was thick and heavy, torchlight flickering where the metal twisted and flowed, the terminals carved into the likeness of a snarling wolf or hound.\n\nElvar held it out to Grend.\n\nHe looked at the arm ring, then at her.\n\n\"I do not follow you for wealth or prizes,\" he said with a frown.\n\n\"I know,\" Elvar said. \"This is a gift, in recognition of your friendship. You would insult me if you refuse it.\"\n\nGrend frowned, then reached out hesitantly and took the silver ring from her. He threaded it over his large fist, up his forearm and about his bicep, then squeezed it tight. He looked at Elvar and she saw his eyes were bright. He said nothing, just dipped his head to her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Uspa groaned, shifting on the table, and Elvar hurried to her." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As she did so she saw Agnar's eyes upon her, his face unreadable.\n\nKráka helped Uspa to sit up and offered her a cup of watered ale.\n\n\"Where is Bjarn?\" Uspa croaked, her eyes searching the room. She grabbed Kráka's wrist. \"Tell me, sister,\" she whispered.\n\n\"He is taken,\" Kráka said.\n\nUspa let out a wail, her hands clawing at her face.\n\nElvar grabbed Uspa's wrists and pulled her hands away, leaving blood smeared on Uspa's cheeks.\n\n\"I told you,\" Uspa hissed at Elvar. \"I told you we needed to leave Snakavik.\"\n\n\"This was why? You knew?\" Elvar asked.\n\n\"Uspa spoke to you of this?\" Agnar said as he reached them, his brows knotted in a frown. \"Thrud died. He was a good warrior, a friend.\" He looked from Uspa to Elvar. \"I should have been told.\"\n\nElvar blinked, looking at the corpse of Thrud, tied in his cloak.\n\nCould I have averted this, she thought. Saved Thrud's life?\n\n\"I...\" she muttered, but bit back the words gathering on her tongue. She had stopped making excuses to her father along time ago. She would not choose that path again.\n\n\"Get him back. Get Bjarn back for me,\" Uspa pleaded, talking to Agnar but with her eyes fixed on Elvar.\n\n\"We tried,\" Agnar said. \"Ilska and the Raven-Feeders have him. They have sailed on their drakkar.\" He shrugged. \"I went after your son because I will not be attacked, robbed, have my warriors murdered. But there is no tracking Ilska now. Even if I wanted to, it would be along, hard task to find her, and one that would end without coin. I am chief of the Battle-Grim; I am their gold-giver, their ring-giver.\" His eyes flickered to Elvar. \"Chasing after your son would not feed my crew. If I come across Ilska again, I will settle my grievance with her, but other than that...\" he shrugged. \"The question in my thought-cage, though, is, why did they take your son? He is worth a few coins in the thrall-market.\" Agnar looked out at the naked corpses of Ilska's warriors who had died in their raid and sniffed. \"He was not worth this.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Uspa looked around the room, finally fixing her eyes upon Agnar.\n\n\"They did not want Bjarn,\" she said. \"They wanted me.\"\n\n\"Why?\" Agnar asked her. \"You are useful: a Seiðr-witch is always useful. But to risk a raid on me and my Battle-Grim, to start a blood feud. Why?\"\n\n\"If I tell you, will you get my son back for me?\"\n\n\"That would depend on how much coin I can make from what you tell me.\"\n\n\"Coin? Is that the sum of your soul, Agnar, chief of the Battle-Grim? Coin?\"\n\n\"Coin feeds bellies and is the weighing scale of a warrior's reputation,\" Agnar said.\n\nUspa nodded. \"More coin than you can imagine, and more fame than you could ever wish for,\" she sighed.\n\n\"Tell me, then,\" Agnar said.\n\nUspa looked away, her face twitching. Fear deep in her eyes.\n\nAgnar took a step closer to her, his fingertips brushing the hilt of his seax. \"My oathman died because of you. I will know why.\"\n\n\"Threats do notwork on me, Agnar Coin-Seeker. I do not fear death, or pain.\"\n\n\"I could put those words to the test,\" Agnar said.\n\nUspa shrugged. \"And waste both our time,\" she answered.\n\nAgnar blew out a breath. \"But you do fear your son's death. You fear a life parted from him. So, Bjarn, then. Your secret for your son.\"\n\nUspa chewed her lip, then nodded. She leaned forwards, her lips touching Agnar's ear, and whispered something. Agnar jumped back, as if stung." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You lie,\" he said.\n\nUspa just stared at Agnar.\n\nElvar felt her heart pound and blood surge through her veins, because she had heard the words Uspa had whispered.\n\nI know the way to Oskutreð." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "What do they want with my Breca? Orka thought as she rowed. Why would they go to such lengths to steal bairns? My son. Harek. The others Virk spoke of. And why did they slay the Froa-spirit? Orka muttered to herself as she rowed. She knew that some of these questions could not be answered and that gnawing on them would only cause her pain and break her focus. Any thought of Breca caused her pain, not knowing where he was, if he was in pain, being mistreated. But the questions would not stay locked away. Instead they circled and spiralled through her thought-cage, like crows drawn to the scent of death. And the last question that loomed over them all.\n\nThorkel said one was dragon-born. Tainted seed of Lik-Rifa. But they do not exist. Was it a death-haze mistake? Thorkel was not one for mistakes. The thought of Thorkel felt like a fist squeezing her heart and she snarled and spat, imagining pushing a seax into her invisible enemy. She bent and rowed, bent and rowed, the questions swirling.\n\nThe Froa-spirit because we had bowed the knee to her, swore we would dwell in peace in her land, and so we were under her protection? To take Breca they had to break her power first. But why? Why is Breca so important to them? Ina way it did not matter. It would not change what Orka intended to do: get her son back and kill everyone who was involved in his taking. But unravelling the answers to these questions might help her find him, and then it did matter. But the answers would not come.\n\nShe lifted her head, blinking sweat from her eyes. She had been lost in the heave and pull of the oar, and the swelling waves of emotion in her thought-cage and veins as well; she felt like a small, solitary figure drifting in a sea of grief. Images of Thorkel and Breca swirled around her. Hate consumed her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What is it?\" Lif asked, sitting on the bench beside her and pulling on the other oar. He was sweating with the rowing and the summer sun, both of them stripped to linen tunics, Orka's brynja and woollen tunic rolled and tied beneath the oar-bench. Mord was in the stern sitting on a pile of rope and weaving coppiced willow branches into a fish trap. They had spied plentiful trout and salmon in the river as they had rowed upstream but had little luck with their spears in skewering any for their supper.\n\n\"For fishermen, you are not very good at catching fish,\" Orka had remarked.\n\n\"We fish the fjords and deep seas,\" Mord had snapped. \"Our nets are too big for this river. Not even a river, more like a stream.\"\n\nThey had left the river they had fled Fellur upon, for fear of Jarl Sigrún sending larger, faster snekkes in search of them, and so were now using a tapestry of smaller rivers and streams that threaded the land like veins.\n\nOrka had just shrugged at Mord's response, and now Mord was building a basket-trap to set in the river once they made camp for the night, in the hope that they would rise to a basket of fresh fish to fry and break their fast with.\n\nThe water ahead was white-foamed, cutting through a steep-sloped spur of land, rocks breaching the flow like the knuckles of a giant's fist. Orka had felt the struggle against the current growing in the fibres of her back and shoulders, but the realisation had not registered properly.\n\nThey were approaching rapids.\n\n\"We should set ashore,\" Orka said, \"and walk around these rapids.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Why walk when we can row through it,\" Mord called out behind them.\n\nOrka looked around. They were into their second day of hard rowing since escaping Fellur, the land shifting around them, leaving the cliffs and waterfalls of the fjord behind them and moving into a land of rolling hills and dense woodland. As the day had passed, the river they were rowing upon had quickened, the currents tugging at them as the banks had closed in and steepened. Now hills rose all around, the river cutting through sharp slopes dotted with holly and purple heather, the sky a cloudless, searing blue. The hiss and roar of water churning around rocks in the water drowned out all else, sounding like shattered crystals, a sweet, ice-touched music. All looked calm, the world empty and peaceful, but something gnawed at Orka, a tickling on the nape of her neck, like the prickle of frost's first morning touch.\n\nThey were close to the first rocks, and Mord was right, with some care they could navigate their way among the white-foaming boulders.\n\nOrka saw something poking from behind a boulder, sharp and jagged. It looked like the shattered, rotting strake of a boat's hull.\n\nThe roar of water grew louder, something lurking deep within it, the hint of a tinkling melody that reminded Orka of better days, like a sun-kissed scent or the memory that a birdsong can evoke. The music was a gentle but insistent hand that tugged her into memories of the past, of spring sunshine and Thorkel's voice and Breca's laughter.\n\nThe boat bucked beneath them.\n\nOrka looked at Lif and saw he was staring ahead, a smile touching his lips, frozen in mid-stroke of his oar. Orka shook her head, trying to rid the music that was spreading through her body, muting all else like a fog." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A boulder reared close, hidden by a swell in their course. Orka slapped Lif and dragged on her oar. Lif started and stared wide-eyed, tugging on his own oar. They swerved around the boulder, the hull scraping against granite, and then they were past it, a plume of white foam exploding around their prow. Orka glanced down, the river water clear and pure, and she glimpsed something on the shingle bed. The glint of bone.\n\n\"Row for shore,\" she cried, heaving on her oar.\n\n\"What's happening?\" Lif called to her.\n\n\"NÄCKEN,\" Orka yelled.\n\nSomething smashed into the keel with a crunch and the boat rocked, the prow lifted clear of the river, Orka and Lif hurled from the oar-bench. A shout sounded from behind them and Orka twisted to see Mord's boots as he disappeared over the side with a splash and gurgle. The prow of the boat crashed back into the water, slamming into a boulder and rolling, water pouring in. Orka staggered to her feet, ripped her oar free of the hole and rammed it into the river, pushing away from rocks, then scraping on the bottom, shoving them towards the bank. Behind her she heard the truncated screams of Mord as he rose above and slipped below the water. A snatched glance and she saw the hint of something below him, a shadow beneath the foaming water, and a thick, green-flecked arm wrapped around Mord's throat.\n\n\"Here,\" Orka shouted, thrusting her oar at Lif, \"get the boat to shore. Do not get into the water.\"\n\n\"What are you doing?\" Lif said as he took the oar, standing and setting his feet." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She drew a seax and leaped over the side.\n\nThe water was cold as ice, snatching her breath away. She resisted the involuntary urge to gasp, kicking with her legs and swimming beneath the surface. Her head cleared, the lulling melody abruptly gone, and she saw a greenish shadow ahead, dense as oil, wrapping around a thrashing Mord. Orka kicked harder, swerved around a boulder and then she was upon them. Air bubbled from Mord's mouth as the shape of a man dragged him beneath the water. A hate-filled face, hair floating like clumps of rotting reeds, dark eyes glinting like jade, his mouth and jaw distended, too big for his face, rows of needle-long teeth gnashing. He had long fingers that were wrapped around Mord's throat, thick arms slick with green slime, his body a striated shadow amid the oil that seemed to coil and curl around him like smoke. Mord was thrashing in the water, beating upon the creature to no effect.\n\nOrka kicked, her head breaking water, and she sucked in a deep breath, hearing that ice-cold melody seep into her like mead, lulling, intoxicating, and then she was diving beneath the water again and the music in her head evaporated like sun-touched mist.\n\nBelow Mord and the Näcken Orka saw a pile of bones, elk, bear, wolf and human, and upon it all sat a huge lyre with long strings of rotted gut. Thick branches of crumbling, sunken trees wove together around and above the lair of bones.\n\nThe Näcken's mouth opened wide and bit down into Mord's shoulder, a pulse of blood seeping into the water, and Mord's mouth opened in a scream, an explosion of bubbles." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Orka kicked her legs, reached the two figures and slashed with her seax, at the same time grunting out words, expelling precious air.\n\n\"Járn og stál, skorið og brennt,\" she murmured through a burst of bubbles as her seax bit into the Näcken's side, slicing, green-tinged flesh parting, oily blood flowing like the pulp of grass and leaves.\n\nThe creature spasmed and jerked in the water, its jaws releasing Mord and opening wide in an unheard scream. Orka grabbed Mord by the tunic and dragged him away, letting her feet sink to the bone-thick riverbed as she bunched her legs, then she was pushing up and away, heaving Mord through the water, the two of them bursting into fresh air, gulping and gasping. Mord coughed and hacked, floundering in the water, Lif on the riverbank dragging their fisher boat onto the shore and yelling his brother's name. Orka kicked and swam, pulling Mord through the white-foaming water, and then she felt something wraparound her ankle. She shoved Mord away, towards the riverbank, and then she was being dragged beneath the water. She twisted and slashed with her seax and saw her blade bounce off the green-scaled skin of the Näcken's wrist.\n\nWords and deed together, you hálfviti idiot.\n\nThe Näcken's jaws opened wide, a black maw filled with silver-sharp teeth, and Orka struggled, jerking away with a flush of panic and she slashed her blade across the vaesen's mouth.\n\n\"Skörp járn brenna og bíta,\" Orka snarled as the seax connected and the blade sliced through skin and flesh into the creature's mouth, teeth spraying, green blood gushing like oil. \"Brenna og bíta,\" she repeated as she stabbed into its shoulder. A shriek erupted from the Näcken that Orka felt rather than heard, the force of it pulsing through the water, filling Orka's body and ears with pressure, hurling her away, though she somehow managed to keep a grip upon her seax. Another shriek behind her, of pain and rage, but she did not look back. She used the momentum to keep kicking, swimming towards the shore until her feet touched shingle and her head and shoulders were bursting into daylight. Lif ran along the bank and held a spear out. Orka grabbed the shaft and hauled herself to the shore. She glanced back at the river, saw a dark cloud boiling beneath the surface, speeding away, fading from sight. She stumbled onto land, coughing and spluttering, Lif trying to support her, and they staggered to where the boat and Mord lay upon the bank. He was pale-faced, his shoulder lacerated and bleeding." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What was that?\" he breathed.\n\nOrka stabbed her seax into the ground, then took the spear from Lif, tugged off the leather sheath and strode to the other side of Mord and the boat, where she buried the iron blade into the ground.\n\n\"A Näcken,\" she said. \"Sneaky, slimy bastards.\"\n\n\"What are you doing?\" Lif asked her, staring at the seax and the quivering shaft of the spear, both stabbed into the riverbank.\n\n\"Näcken don't like iron. They can sense it, feel it through the earth,\" Orka said, then dropped to her hands and knees, vomiting water and slime." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elvar watched as Agnar walked away, beckoning for Uspa, Sighvat and Kráka to follow him. They walked through a doorway into the landlord's kitchen and chambers.\n\n\"Out,\" Elvar heard Agnar say, and the landlord and his wife appeared in the doorway, moving into the tavern's main room.\n\nOskutreð, Elvar thought. Uspa said she knows the way to Oskutreð. The great Ash Tree, where the gods-fall battle raged hottest, where Ulfrir and Berser fell. That thought was almost too big for Elvar to comprehend, or to believe. Without realising it she found she was walking after Uspa and Sighvat, Grend following her. She reached the doorway and saw Agnar was seated at a table, Kráka beside him, Uspa sitting opposite him, Sighvat hovering inside the door. Agnar looked up as Elvar tried to walk into the room, Sighvat moving to block her way.\n\n\"This is not for you,\" Agnar said to her.\n\nElvar stood and just looked at Agnar.\n\n\"I heard her,\" Elvar said. \"I heard what Uspa told you.\" A heartbeat after those words had left her lips the thought crossed her mind that she should have kept them to herself.\n\nAgnar's face shifted, a flat look filling his eyes, reinforcing that thought. He does not trust me, she realised.\n\n\"Come in,\" he said.\n\nElvar stepped into the room, Grend making to follow her, but Sighvat stepped in front of him.\n\n\"Him, too,\" Agnar said and Sighvat moved to the side, allowing Grend in." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was a small room, one window and door, the table Agnar was sat at surrounded by clay ovens and a hearth fire with an iron pot hanging over it. A few dozen barrels of ale and various foods were stacked against the walls, jugs of mead on shelves, and there was along bench with chopping boards, knives and cleavers, and two straw mattresses laid out on cots.\n\n\"You heard?\" Agnar said.\n\nElvar nodded. She opened her mouth to say the name, but Agnar held a hand up.\n\n\"Are you staying, or are you going?\" he asked her.\n\nElvar frowned, confused.\n\n\"Your father's offer, of a warband if you return to his side. Are you staying with me, or are you going to join him? I told you to tell me when you are ready, but this...\" He waved a hand at Uspa. \"This changes things.\"\n\nThere was a tension in the room, Agnar staring at her intently, and she heard Sighvat's feet shuffle behind her.\n\nElvar sucked in a breath. She had forgotten all about her father's offer with the events of the day.\n\n\"I am staying with you. With the Battle-Grim,\" she said.\n\nA silence fell, all of them staring at her. She felt Grend's eyes boring into her back.\n\n\"You are certain? If you are to be apart of this conversation, then there is no going back from it,\" Agnar said. \"No leaving me to tell all that you learn hereto your father.\"\n\n\"I am certain,\" she said. \"A wolf cannot become a lamb.\" She looked at Grend as she said those words. They were Hrung's last words to her. She had pondered it in her thought-cage all through the night, and was certain she had the right of it. Her father had never been trustworthy, not with her. All her life he had tricked her with clever words and half-truths. Even though his offer seemed all she had ever dreamed of, there must be more to it. He would not just give her all she asked for. It was not in his nature, and the wolf could not become a lamb." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Agnar held her gaze, the silence lengthening, and then he nodded.\n\n\"Then sit down,\" he said, gesturing to a chair.\n\nUspa was looking down at her hands.\n\n\"Oskutreð,\" Agnar said to her, \"is a myth, a fair-fame tale that warriors like me tell around a hearth fire, to fill our dreams with gold.\"\n\n\"It is real,\" Uspa said, her head snapping up, a twist of her lips. \"Look at this world around you, filled with Berserkir and Úlfhéðnar. Look at where we are: satin a town and fortress built within and upon a serpent's skull. Of course Oskutreð is real.\"\n\nAgnar looked at Kráka.\n\n\"All the Tainted know Oskutreð to be true,\" Kráka said. \"The great tree was at the heart of the gods-fall where our ancestors fell; the Guðfalla is like a song in our blood.\"\n\nAgnar looked between the two Seiðr-witches.\n\n\"The tales tell of it being beyond the vaesen pit, beyond the Isbrún Bridge, beyond Dark-of-Moon Hills,\" Elvar said.\n\n\"That is a truth,\" Uspa nodded. \"It is no tale.\"\n\n\"And if it is a truth, how is it that you know the way?\" Agnar asked her. \"Two hundred and ninety-seven years are said to have passed since that day when the gods fell, and yet none have ever found it, despite the tales of relics and riches and power.\"\n\n\"The Graskinna,\" Uspa said. \"The Grey Skin, a Galdrabok full of dark magic. It tells the way, for those with understanding.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Those with understanding?\" Agnar questioned.\n\n\"Galdurmen, Seiðr-witches,\" Uspa said. \"Those who understand the old ways, those who can bend the world with rune and spell.\"\n\n\"And where is this Graskinna, then?\" Agnar said. \"Kráka could look at it, confirm tome whether you are telling me the truth, or just some tempting lies to get your son back.\"\n\nKráka nodded. Elvar saw the woman tense, a tremor in her flesh.\n\nShe is excited.\n\n\"Kráka cannot look at it. No one can,\" Uspa said. \"I destroyed it.\"\n\nAgnar just stared at her. Kráka let out a sharp hiss.\n\n\"When you found us on Iskalt Island, we were therefor a reason. As my husband fought the troll, I was casting the book into the pool of fire and speaking the words of unbinding. The Graskinna is gone.\"\n\n\"I saw you,\" Elvar breathed.\n\nUspa just looked at her.\n\n\"So, how did Ilska and her Raven-Feeders know of you and this Graskinna, and how did they know to come hereafter you?\" Agnar asked Uspa.\n\n\"My husband and me, we stole the Graskinna from them. They have been hunting us along while. You hunted us, too, because of the price put on our heads. Berak slew some of Ilska's crew, and others as we fled her and her Raven-Feeders. He had to. And then, when you brought us here, I saw some of Ilska's warriors outside that tavern. We all did. I tried to hide myself and Bjarn,\" she shrugged. \"But they must have seen me and told Ilska.\" She looked at Elvar. \"I kept telling you that I needed to leave Snakavik.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You did,\" Elvar said, \"but you failed to mention it was because you knew the way to fabled Oskutreð, or that Ilska the Cruel and her Raven-Feeders were hunting you.\"\n\nUspa shrugged. \"I had to know that I could trust you, before I told you such things.\"\n\nAgnar sat back in his chair, puffing out his cheeks.\n\n\"I do not like it,\" he muttered. \"You are asking me to chase after Ilska the Cruel and her Raven-Feeders, find them, and steal back your son.\" He shook his head. \"Just the finding of them is task enough, and could take many months. Then there is taking your son back from them. That could be no easy thing. The Raven-Feeders, they have a reputation.\"\n\n\"Is Agnar Battle-Grim afraid of Ilska and her Raven-Feeders?\" Uspa said.\n\nAgnar gave her a cold smile. \"Do not try to provoke or manipulate me,\" he said. \"I am a practical man and am afraid of losing good warriors, yes. I am chief of the Battle-Grim; I am like a jarl to them. I am their gold-giver. I choose our course, the battles we fight, and, aye, death perches on our shoulders like an old raven and all in the Battle-Grim have made their peace with that, but I will not throw their lives away.\" He tugged on the blond braid in his beard. \"And all the while we are chasing Ilska, we are earning no coin or silver.\"\n\n\"Coin is your god, then,\" Uspa said, a sneer on her lips.\n\n\"Don't be a fool, woman,\" Agnar snapped. \"Coin buys food and mead; we would starve without coin, and silver is a battle-won prize, a symbol of our battle-fame and reputation. Why do you think we wear rings of silver and gold? To make our mark on this world. What else is there?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"With the finding of Oskutreð your battle-fame would live forever,\" Uspa said.\n\n\"Then why did you burn the book?\" Elvar asked.\n\n\"To stop fair-fame hungry fools like you from finding it,\" Uspa snapped. \"There are the remains of gods there. And other things.\" She did not need to say anymore. In her thought-cage Elvar was seeing the bones of Ulfrir and Berser, of Svin and Rotta and Hundur, their battle gear and treasures, and the weapons of their children. A silence settled on them, and Elvar saw the same thoughts in Agnar's eyes.\n\n\"Vigrið is no peace-loving land, but if the way to Oskutreð was made known, new powers would rise in this land, and most likely anew war with them,\" Uspa said with a shiver. \"Best that the way is shut and can never be found.\"\n\n\"Then why show me the way?\" Agnar breathed, the lure of power and riches heavy in his eyes.\n\n\"For my son,\" Uspa said. \"For love. When you weigh this life on the scales, you realise that is everything. The things you seek...\" She shook her head.\n\nAgnar leaned forward.\n\n\"I could put a thrall-collar on you and order you to show me the way, and save myself a lot of hard and dangerous work trying to get your son back.\"\n\n\"I will die before I wear the thrall's collar,\" Uspa said. He eyes flickered to Kráka. \"I mean you no insult, sister. Those of the Tainted who wear the collar, they still cling to life. It is part of being human. Survival. To bear hardship and trial, in the hope of it ending. But I do not care for my life. I care for my husband, whom I have lost, and I care for my son, who is taken. If you put the thrall-collar on me, then my life would be over, for I would never see my son again.\" She shrugged. \"That is no choice tome: better death. And you saw what I did to Ilska's warriors. Do not doubt that I could take my own life, if I set my will to it.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Something in the way Uspa spoke convinced Elvar it was the truth. Agnar leaned back in his chair, fingers tugging at his beard.\n\nHe believes her, too.\n\nAgnar leaned forwards.\n\n\"You will take me to Oskutreð first, and then I shall find your son for you,\" he said.\n\nUspa barked a laugh. \"Do you think me such a fool? I would be worthless to you once you set eyes on Oskutreð. My son first.\"\n\n\"It could take a year to find him, and I do not have the coin and silver to fund a search of great length.\"\n\n\"Then find him quickly,\" Uspa said.\n\n\"There are no guarantees,\" Agnar said. \"Oskutreð first. I will swear to you an oath.\"\n\nUspa opened her mouth, then paused, her face shifting.\n\n\"An oath,\" she murmured. \"Perhaps. There is an oath that you can make. That we can all make to one another. But it is not just words. Our lives would be bound, and the breaking of the oath would have... consequences. Swear on it and I shall take you to Oskutreð first.\" She held Agnar's gaze. \"The blóð svarið,\" she said.\n\nElvar felt a chill in her blood at Uspa's words, though she did not know what they meant.\n\n\"What is that?\" Sighvat rumbled. He was standing close to the doorway, ensuring there were no prying ears.\n\n\"The blood oath,\" Kráka said. \"It is made with blood, runes and words of power. To make the blóð svarið is to bind yourself to your vow, and to those who take it with you. It is a seal in your body unto death and to break it is to die.\" Kráka looked at them all in turn. \"Painfully.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"If all here make the oath, I will show you the way to Oskutreð,\" Uspa said, looking from Agnar to Elvar, then Sighvat, Grend and Kráka.\n\n\"What do you mean, painfully?\" Sighvat said, frowning. One hand crept up to the pendant at his throat, the clawed foot of a frost-spider, Sighvat's first kill in the Battle-Grim.\n\n\"We will swear the oath and seal it with our blood and Seiðr-magic,\" Uspa said. \"That will bind us so long as blood flows in our veins.\"\n\n\"Painfully?\" Sighvat repeated, glowering at Uspa.\n\n\"If you break the oath before you die, then your blood shall boil in your veins. You will die screaming,\" Uspa said. She looked at them all. \"This is the only way I will agree to take you to Oskutreð before you search for my Bjarn.\"\n\nSighvat blew out along breath. \"Don't like the sound of that,\" he muttered.\n\n\"I have made one oath. I shall not make another,\" Grend said, breaking his silence. He looked at the white scar etched across his left palm.\n\n\"All of you must take the oath,\" Uspa said. \"You have all heard Oskutreð spoken of. It is the only way that we can trust one another.\"\n\n\"No,\" Grend said.\n\n\"Uspa is right,\" Agnar said, leaning back in his chair. He looked from Grend to Elvar.\n\n\"Grend is oathsworn tome,\" Elvar said. \"Wherever I go, whatever path I choose, Grend will follow. He can be trusted with or without your oath.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"No,\" Uspa said, a crack to her voice like a leather whip." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"All or none. This is the greatest secret in all of Vigrið. I will not share it without your oath and your blood.\"\n\nElvar looked at Grend, knowing the circumstances and significance of his last oath. He stared back into her eyes, seeing the hope and desire within her. Muscles in his cheek twitched. Eventually he nodded. \"I will take your oath,\" he said, \"but only for Elvar. None of this matters tome.\"\n\nSighvat snorted.\n\n\"Close the door,\" Uspa said to Sighvat as she stood and walked to one of the benches. Agnar nodded and the big man did, shutting out the light and noise from the tavern. Uspa picked up a chopping board and a sharp knife, then sat back down at the table.\n\n\"Gather close,\" she said, Sighvat and Grend stepping up to the table, and Uspa set to carving runes into the chopping board. Three, four of them, a series of straight lines, some angled, all deep into the wood. At the sight of them Elvar felt a thrumming in her blood, a buzzing building in her head.\n\nDo I want to do this? Bind myself to the fate of a Tainted child? Go up against Ilska the Cruel and her Raven-Feeders? She could see Bjarn's face: remembered when he had been hurled from the Wave-Jarl into the sea, how she had leaped after him.\n\nI am bound to him already.\n\nAnd the thought of Oskutreð swirled through her like mead in her blood. Intoxicating, overwhelming. Fear and excitement fluttered in her veins, blending into a heady mix." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Those who find Oskutreð, and all the treasures that are there, their names will live forever." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Long after my father's name and bones have faded to dust.\n\nA silence settled over them, heavy as a rain-soaked cloak.\n\n\"Life,\" Uspa whispered, pointing to the first rune. She drew the knife across the heel of her hand and let the blood drip onto the rune, filling the deep-carved lines.\n\n\"Líf,\" Kráka breathed.\n\n\"Death,\" Uspa said, her blood tracing the second rune.\n\n\"Dauða,\" Kráka whispered.\n\n\"Blood oath,\" Uspa muttered as her blood flowed into the third rune.\n\n\"Blóð svarið,\" Kráka echoed.\n\n\"Torment,\" Uspa said, her blood filling the last rune.\n\n\"Kvöl,\" Kráka croaked, the word sounding like a drumbeat in Elvar's head, or a door slamming shut.\n\n\"All of you,\" Uspa said, \"join your blood to mine.\"\n\nThere was a rasp of seaxes leaving their scabbards. Elvar sliced her blade across her palm and held her handout. She saw Grend do the same, saw his blood flow and she held his hand, knowing the sacrifice he was making for her, knowing that he did not want to do this, knowing that his oath to Elvar's dead mother drove him. Their blood mingled and dripped onto the runes.\n\nAgnar held his handout, blood dripping, then Sighvat, and finally Kráka. All of them with hands held over the runes, their blood falling, mingling.\n\nUspa opened her mouth and spoke.\n\n\"Blóð eið munum við gera," }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "að binda hver við annan með rúnir af krafti,\n\nhurðir að gömlu leiðunum, innsiglaðar og bundnar með blóði.\"\n\nUspa spoke in little more than a whisper, but her voice seemed to fill the room, echoing in Elvar's head.\n\n\"Blood oath we make, binding one to the other with runes of power, door to the old ways,\" Kráka said, her voice scratching.\n\n\"Eið okkar innsigluð með blóði okkar, lífi, dauða og kvalum,\n\nbundin með blóði okkar,\" Uspa said.\n\n\"Our oath sealed with our blood, life, death and torment, bound with our blood,\" Kráka intoned.\n\nA windswept through the room, a chill rippling through Elvar. The blood that filled the runes hissed and sizzled, steam rising from them, and then the blood rose into the air, hovering, like long strands of tendon or red string, painting the runes in the air. Sighvat gasped. With a crackle the blood runes moved together, merging into one long strand, and it floated up, higher, towards all of their hands, which were still held stretched over the runes. The strand of blood wrapped around them, binding hands and wrists together, pulling them tight, Elvar flinching as it touched her skin. It was hot, pain jolting up her arm, but she could not pull away. She heard Grend hiss beside her, saw Sighvat's arm jerk, but none of them pulled away.\n\nThe smell of burning flesh, the crackle of skin sizzling.\n\n\"Svo skal pað vera,\" Uspa growled. \"Say it with me.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Svo skal pað vera,\" Elvar and the others intoned.\n\n\"So be it,\" Kráka said and the blood-cord around their hands and wrists writhed and hissed and sizzled, then evaporated into steam.\n\nElvar's arm fell away, a red weal wrapped around her hand and wrist like a red tattoo.\n\nThey all looked atone another, fear and awe reflected in each other's eyes.\n\nAgnar smiled.\n\n\"To Oskutreð,\" he said, and Elvar could not stop the thrill in her veins or the laughter bubbling out of her throat." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Varg banked and shipped his oar as the Sea-Wolf cut across the current towards the east bank of the River Slågen. Strakes bumped on timber as the ship grated against a pier, Svik and Røkia leaping from the top-rail onto wooden boards and tying off mooring ropes. Beyond the riverbank was a farm. A stockade wall with a single gate surrounded a turf-roofed longhouse and outbuildings, and beyond the timber wall fields of barley and rye rippled across a meadow that stretched towards tree-shrouded foothills.\n\nThey had rowed hard up the river for five long days, the muscles in Varg's back and shoulders coming to feel like they were in a permanent state of spasm, his hands raw, but now it seemed that the time for rowing was over. Glornir had announced a little earlier that they were about to make landfall and continue their journey by foot, moving into the foothills of the Boneback Mountains in their quest.\n\nGlornir slotted the tiller and shouted orders, Einar Half-Troll echoing them, and then all was movement, warriors stacking oars in racks and delving into their sea-chests. Svik appeared at Varg's shoulder as he sat on his sea-chest, still staring at the farmstead. Between the pier and the stockade wall was an area of ground dotted with moss and grass-covered mounds.\n\nBarrows, of the thralls who died in the service of this farm, most likely. The sight of it stirred memories in Varg's thought-cage, dark memories that felt more like long-clawed nightmares, now he was free of them.\n\nHow did I live so long with a collar around my neck?\n\nA wyrm of anger uncoiled in his gut, slithering through his veins." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Hurry up, or you'll be left behind to guard the ship,\" Svik said as he rummaged in his own sea-chest.\n\nVarg blinked and shook his head, trying to banish the memories of Kolskegg's farm, but they clung to him, like flies to a rotting corpse.\n\n\"What should I bring?\" Varg asked Svik.\n\n\"Your war gear,\" Svik said. \"We are marching to a fight, so wear all that you can. Leave behind what you can't fit on your body. You will soon get tired of carrying a sack over your shoulder.\"\n\nVarg shrugged on a grey woollen tunic over the linen one he'd been rowing in, then lifted out his weapons belt, with seax, throwing axe and cleaver hanging from belt loops and scabbard, and buckled it around his waist. He looked at the war gear he had taken from the druzhina warrior back in Liga, the horsehair helm and coat of lamellar plate. Somehow it felt wrong to wear it.\n\nI did not win it through any great act of skill, just a desperate, lucky thrust in the man's back with my seax, he thought. Instead he lifted out the simple iron helm he'd bought from a trader in Liga, along with a leather pouch, and last of all his sealskin cloak. Then he closed the chest and bolted it. He buckled the pouch and helm to his belt and slung the cloak around his shoulders, fixing it with an iron brooch. His shield was set in the top-rail rack and he prised it free, slung it over his shoulder and then returned his oar to a rack close to the central mast-lock, exchanging it for his spear. He followed Svik over the top-rail and onto the pier, his legs unsteady as they tried to adjust to being on solid ground. He was glad to have the earth under his feet again. Svik was gleaming in his bright brynja, a sword and seax hanging from his weapons belt along with a buckled helm. He looked at Varg in his linen tunic and cloak, and shook his head." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You may regret not wearing that fine coat of plate you have stowed away,\" he said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Most likely half a moment after you get punched in the chest by an angry troll.\"\n\n\"It's too heavy,\" Varg said, at the same time noticing almost all of the Bloodsworn had shrugged their way into coats of mail, only a handful in wool or leather. He looked at his feet, feeling foolish.\n\n\"No-Sense,\" Svik said, then shrugged. \"You'll learn the hard way, if you livelong enough.\"\n\nA horn rang out, deep and braying, Einar standing on the riverbank with a horn at his lips, Glornir and Vol there, along with Skalk and his two warriors.\n\n\"Bloodsworn, with me,\" Glornir cried out, then turned and walked away, his shield over his back and along-axe in his fist, using it like a walking staff. Mail clinked and leather boots slapped on timber as fifty warriors strode along the wooden pier, leaving ten of their band behind to guard the ship.\n\nThey marched across a hard-packed path and through the barrow-field, Varg setting his eyes ahead, determined not to look at the mounds of stone and earth, fearing the memories they would unleash. Einar called out to the farm as they approached, but there was no answer, no sign of movement. Varg had known the farm was deserted as soon as he'd seen it: no plumes of smoke to mark any hearth fire or forge, no movement in the fields where there should be workers and animals, and the gates were creaking in the breeze, half-open.\n\n\"Set a shield-line,\" Glornir ordered Svik, then marched through the gates, Edel and her two hounds behind him, followed by Einar, Røkia, Vol, Sulich and a handful of others. Skalk followed, with Olvir and Yrsa in his wake. Olvir had shrugged his shield from his back, his sword drawn, and Yrsa held a spear over her shield rim. Varg stared after them and looked at the longhouse beyond them, its roof green with turf, its doors closed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Svik called out an order and the remaining Bloodsworn moved into an open line around the farm wall, looking out towards the rye and barley-filled fields, weeds thick among them.\n\nThese crops have not been tended fora good long while.\n\nTo the east of the farmstead a fenced paddock stood with grass grown long, the gate open. Two shaggy-haired ponies stood staring at the Bloodsworn.\n\nThey have decided the grass here is tasty enough, Varg thought, seeing that the gate was open and no ropes tethered them to the paddock rails.\n\nJökul the smith walked towards them, signalling fora few others to follow him.\n\nVarg stood in silence, the only sound the wind soughing through the barley and Jökul trying to catch the ponies in the paddock. Eventually he enticed them with a few apples, and in short time they were harnessed up with tack found in a stable block and being loaded with food barrels and kit for the Bloodsworn.\n\nThere were footsteps behind Varg and he turned to see Glornir marching out of the farm gates, his face twisted in a scowl.\n\n\"Empty,\" the Bloodsworn's chief said to Svik. \"Nobodies, no blood.\" He paused and rubbed a handover his bald head.\n\nEdel walked out of the gates, a tunic in her hands. She drew her seax and sliced the tunic into two, then offered the two halves to her wolfhounds. They took deep snorting sniffs of the fabric.\n\n\"Bloodsworn,\" Glornir called out, lifting a hand in the air and turning it in a tight circle, one finger pointed skywards. Torvik and a handful of other scouts stepped forwards, moving north, halting before the field of barley and rye. They were all young men and women clothed in wool and leather, apart from Edel in her brynja. She loped past Glornir and joined the other scouts, taking their lead, her hounds at her side. Edel stepped into the field of barley, Torvik and the others following her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Let's go and earn our coin,\" Glornir called out, and set off after Edel and the scouts.\n\nVarg sucked in a deep breath. Beyond the fields of abandoned crops, meadows rolled into foothills that glittered with streams and were draped with birch and rowan, and beyond them the towering heights of the Boneback Mountains reared, their peaks wreathed in cloud and snow. Varg fell in alongside Svik, but before they reached the barley Varg looked back over his shoulder and saw sullen faces staring out from the Sea-Wolf, watching them. Lots had been drawn to decide who would stay with the ship, for it seemed that none wanted to. They were the Bloodsworn and were marching into danger, where no doubt fair battle-fame and silver awaited them. No one wanted to hear tell of the great deeds after the fight was won.\n\nApart from me.\n\nI just want to survive long enough to find out how my sister died, and avenge her, Varg thought, his hand brushing the pouch on his belt as he walked towards the Boneback Mountains." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Kill me,\" Orka said, standing with her feet spread in the grass, her hands loose and ready at her sides.\n\nLif lunged at her, his seax wrapped with a strip of wool, stabbing at Orka's belly.\n\nShe slapped the blade away with the flat of one hand, side-stepped and punched Lif on the jaw. He stumbled away a few steps, then his legs gave way and he sank to the ground, looking up at Orka with a dazed expression.\n\nMord laughed, sitting on a boulder as he filleted a salmon as long as his arm.\n\n\"I thought you were teaching us weapons craft,\" Mord said. \"This looks more like beating us up for fun. Not fun for us, I feel I should point out,\" he added.\n\n\"I am teaching you,\" Orka said, offering Lif her arm and pulling him back to his feet. \"That if you do a foolish thing, pain will follow. Or death.\" She scowled at Lif. \"You took too large a step, which left you off balance. Small steps in, small steps out,\" she said. \"Never lunge. Never over-extend. It's the same rule, whether you are using your fists, a seax, a spear or a sword. And never charge straight in. That only works for bulls and boars.\" She paused. \"And for trolls. Sidesteps: look for the openings; find the gaps in your opponent's defence. And strike in flurries: two, three, four blows. Often the blow that ends a fight is the one your enemy did not see coming.\"\n\nLif rubbed his chin, a bruise already mottling.\n\n\"Pain and bruises reinforce a lesson,\" Orka said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Heya, agreed,\" Lif mumbled.\n\n\"Then we must have learned much from you already,\" Mord barked a laugh as he looked at her through one swollen, blackened eye. Other bruises speckled the faces and bodies of both brothers, varying from purple to green to yellow, telling the tale of how old the bruises were, and how long the brothers had been receiving such lessons from Orka during their journey north. Mord's shoulder was still bound with linen where the Näcken had bitten him, though that wound was healing well, and his head still bore a red scar where he had been clubbed by Guðvarr at Fellur village. Orka had been silently impressed with the way he had thrown himself into the weapons craft lessons she had given the two brothers, despite Mord's more serious wounds.\n\n\"By the number of your bruises you should befit to fight a holmganga against Ilska the Cruel soon,\" Lif said to Mord.\n\n\"Huh,\" Mord snorted. \"I hope never to meet her for any reason,\" he said. \"The tales tell how she fought three men in the holmganga, and cut the stones from each one of them.\" He winced.\n\n\"Ilska has slain more than a few men in the holmganga,\" Lif said. \"Vaesen, Iskidan warbands, a Berserkir. But I am not so scared of her, now that Orka has taught me some weapons craft.\" He smiled at his brother. \"Ilska the Cruel, Agnar Battle-Grim, even the Skullsplitter. I feel like I could fight them all.\"\n\n\"Then you area hálfviti idiot,\" Orka muttered.\n\n\"Who is the best?\" Lif said, ignoring the dour twist of Orka's lips." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There is no such thing as the best,\" Orka muttered. \"And the Skullsplitter is dead.\"\n\n\"I'll fight Skullsplitter, then,\" Mord said and Lif sat on the floor, laughing and holding his belly.\n\n\"Time to go,\" Orka said, ignoring them and squinting at the sky. The sun was low on the horizon, newly risen, the air fresh and clean. An eagle soared high above them, wings spread. They were stood on the slope of a gentle hill, their boat pulled up and hidden in a reed bank below them. It had taken them close to fifteen days of hard rowing to reach this point, longer than the journey from Fellur to Darl should have taken, because they had left the wide and busy River Drammur for fear of pursuit, and so had threaded their way east and then north in a looping half-circle, rowing then pushing and dragging their boat across land to the next river, rowing again, then travelling across land for the next river again. It had been hard, back-breaking work, but they had not been followed, and the countryside was mostly deserted.\n\nNo one to see us, no one to sell information about us to any who might follow.\n\nOnly yesterday had they started to pass homesteads and farms, faces staring at them as they rowed on by. Orka's eyes tracked the glitter of the river, one of a dozen that carved their way through the hills around her. At the edge of Orka's sight a shadow spread across the high ground that overlooked its far bank: a town, smoke from a hundred hearth fires curling up into the sky above it.\n\nDarl.\n\nAnd Breca. A spark of hope flared in her chest, of longing, the possibility of finding her son blazing so bright within her that it was painful. Her hand brushed against one of the seaxes thrust into her belt. One of the blades that she had found in Thorkel's body." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And if I do not find him, then I shall have my vengeance.\n\nI am blood. I am vengeance, I am death.\n\nWithout looking at Mord or Lif, Orka picked her way down to the boat and waded through the reeds, leaped into it and hefted an oar. She heard the brothers following behind her, but her eyes were fixed on the river and the course ahead.\n\nOrka shipped her oar, Mord doing the same, and their boat coasted over the river. They were both staring at the sight before them, Lif, too.\n\nDarl, fortress and seat of power of Queen Helka.\n\nThe river was wide and deep, dark and brown, unlike the crystal rivers and streams they had used to make their way here. Ships and boats of all sizes thronged on the river and clustered around a hundred wooden piers and jetties. Orka saw at least a dozen drakkars sitting sleek and wolfish at the docks, their hulls low in the water with proud eagle-carved prows.\n\nBeyond the piers, taverns and buildings rose in a cluttered crush upon the slope of a gentle hill, rising towards a timbered wall, and beyond it a fortress. It was a swarming hive of motion, of sounds and smells, but Orka's, Mord's and Lif's eyes were drawn to the fortress atop the hill. A mead hall crowned the fortress, and out of its walls swept the skeleton of a giant eagle. Two huge, skeletal wings, each one the size of a small hill, spread wide like protective hands, a skull and razored beak rearing above the mead hall thatch. Orka felt the pulse of a headache beginning in the knot of muscles about her neck." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "No vaesen will ever bother the people of Darl, with Orna's remains guarding it. One the size of this eagle skeleton would keep vaesen away for many leagues.\n\nBehind the mead hall and eagle skeleton Orka glimpsed the Galdur tower of Darl, where Galdurmen learned their rune-dark arts. She hawked and spat into the river.\n\n\"Jarl Sigrún spoke true, then,\" Lif finally said, \"when she talked of the eagle-god protecting the fortress. I thought she was telling falsehoods to convince Fellur to give their oath to Queen Helka.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Orka sniffed.\n\n\"What do we do now?\" Lif asked her.\n\n\"Find a space to dock on one of those piers,\" Orka said.\n\nThey reached for their oars and threaded away through the boats on the river, so busy that it was like moving cattle on market day.\n\nEventually they found a small pier on the eastern fringe of the docks, Lif tying off the boat and Orka climbing a ladder onto the pier. She found a harbourmaster waiting for her, a fat man with a felt cap and numerous chins beneath his thin, wispy beard. His tunic spoke of wealth, edged in fine tablet weave, and his guard was kitted out well, a tall woman with a bored look on her long-nosed face.\n\n\"How much?\" Orka asked, and she paid the sweating man from her pouch of coin. She did not haggle, did not want to be remembered. Lif gasped as he clambered up the ladder and saw the coin exchanging hands, but the man and his guard had turned and were striding away from them before he managed to blurt out any words." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Move the story forward as the writer's assistant.\nTags: fantasy, norse mythology, dragons\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: The Shadow of the Gods\nChapter: 33" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "No vaesen will ever bother the people of Darl, with Orna's remains guarding it. One the size of this eagle skeleton would keep vaesen away for many leagues.\n\nBehind the mead hall and eagle skeleton Orka glimpsed the Galdur tower of Darl, where Galdurmen learned their rune-dark arts. She hawked and spat into the river.\n\n\"Jarl Sigrún spoke true, then,\" Lif finally said, \"when she talked of the eagle-god protecting the fortress. I thought she was telling falsehoods to convince Fellur to give their oath to Queen Helka.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Orka sniffed.\n\n\"What do we do now?\" Lif asked her.\n\n\"Find a space to dock on one of those piers,\" Orka said.\n\nThey reached for their oars and threaded away through the boats on the river, so busy that it was like moving cattle on market day.\n\nEventually they found a small pier on the eastern fringe of the docks, Lif tying off the boat and Orka climbing a ladder onto the pier. She found a harbourmaster waiting for her, a fat man with a felt cap and numerous chins beneath his thin, wispy beard. His tunic spoke of wealth, edged in fine tablet weave, and his guard was kitted out well, a tall woman with a bored look on her long-nosed face.\n\n\"How much?\" Orka asked, and she paid the sweating man from her pouch of coin. She did not haggle, did not want to be remembered. Lif gasped as he clambered up the ladder and saw the coin exchanging hands, but the man and his guard had turned and were striding away from them before he managed to blurt out any words." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We would fish the fjord a whole month to earn that amount of coin,\" Lif said to Orka.\n\nShe ignored him, climbing back down the ladder into the boat. Her brynja was rolled beneath the oar-bench. She heaved it up and slithered into the coat of mail, the boat swaying as she did so, then buckled her weapons belt about her waist, feeling the weight of axe and seax settle. Finally she hefted her hemp sack and threw it upon to the pier, gripped her spear and climbed backup the ladder.\n\nMord followed her up. Lif stood and waited for her.\n\nA horn call rang out, high above them, echoing down from the walls of the fortress. Other horns joined it, blaring, spreading throughout the fortress and town, people on the docks stopping and staring.\n\nAn answering horn rang out, distant, and Orka looked downriver.\n\nThree drakkars were on the river, tall-prowed, oars dipping and rising in perfect time, water falling from the rising oars glistening in the sunlight. As they drew closer to the docks Orka realised they were huge, seventy or eighty oars, at least. Activity exploded on the dockside as they curled in towards a large pier, noticeably empty of ships despite being in prime docking location. Voices shouted and ropes were thrown from the first drakkar, men and women on the pier catching them and tying the ropes around mooring posts. A gangplank was dropped over the drakkar 's top-rail to the pier and figures were disembarking: tenor twelve warriors, clothed in mail, men and women, the sides of their heads shaved and covered in flowing, swirling tattoos. Swords and seaxes hung from their belts, grey woollen cloaks upon them, edged in fur. They spread across the pier in a half-circle, a protective fist." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Úlfhéðnar,\" Orka muttered and spat on the pier.\n\n\"What!\" Lif said, his eyes wide.\n\n\"Tainted, descendants of Ulfrir, the wolf-god,\" Orka said. \"Like Vafri, the warrior who slew your father.\"\n\nAnd then a woman was crossing the gangplank to the pier, tall, her hair long and black, braided with threads of gold wire. A red cloak was draped across her shoulders and gold arm rings glittered in the sun. She wore a sword at her hip with gold on the pommel and crossguard, gold wire wrapped around the leather hilt, the scabbard ornately tooled, a throat and chape of gold.\n\n\"Who is that?\" Lif breathed beside Orka.\n\n\"I am guessing Queen Helka, as this is her fortress,\" Orka said.\n\nThe queen stopped and turned, waiting for two men to cross the gangplank. One was a raven-haired young man, tall and broad, his clothing all fine wools and silks, rings of silver on his arms and about his neck. The other stood out as different. He was as tall as the younger man, but his head was shaven clean apart from a thick blond braid that stretched down his back, his face angular with a short, neatly cropped beard. Instead of a tunic he wore a fine wool kaftan and breeches that were baggy above the knee and striped, wrapped tight with winnigas from ankle to knee. He wore a curved sword on one hip, and a bow case and quiver of arrows on the other.\n\n\"And them?\" Mord said.\n\n\"Helka has a son called Hakon,\" Lif said.\n\n\"That is most likely him, then,\" said Orka." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What about the other one?\" Mord asked.\n\n\"A guest from oversea, I am guessing,\" Orka said. \"I have seen others dressed similarly. They were from Iskidan.\"\n\nLif whistled.\n\nThe three of them watched in silence as more warriors disembarked from the drakkar, and Queen Helka and her companions strode down the pier. People close to her dropped to their knees, bowing. There was the sound of many feet, and warriors emerged from a street, spreading onto the docks, an honour-guard come to greet Queen Helka. They wrapped around her and her retinue, and then they were all marching into the streets of Darl and disappearing from view.\n\nSlowly people on the dockside climbed back to their feet and returned to their normal business.\n\n\"What now?\" Lif said.\n\n\"Now we say farewell,\" Orka said as she bent and rummaged in her sack. She took out Thorkel's nålbinding wool cap, which she pulled onto her head. She looked at the two brothers. They were staring at her, open-mouthed.\n\n\"What?\" she said.\n\n\"You can't just leave,\" Lif said.\n\n\"That was our agreement,\" Orka said. \"You row me to Darl; I teach you some weapons craft.\" She looked at their bruised faces. \"I have done my best.\"\n\n\"But what shall we do?\" Lif said.\n\n\"That is up to you,\" Orka said. \"Not my business.\" She took a few steps, then paused.\n\n\"Do you have any coin?\" she asked them.\n\n\"A little,\" Lif said.\n\nOrka walked back to them, took her pouch from her belt and opened the drawstring, before sifting through it. \"Here,\" she said, holding out a few coins. \"This will buy you food fora while, long enough for you to make some more.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Mord scowled at her.\n\n\"We cannot take that,\" Lif said. \"Our father, he taught us...\"\n\n\"Be in no one's debt,\" Mord said. \"Earn your own keep; pay your own way, he always said.\"\n\nOrka shrugged. \"Take it, or don't,\" she said. \"It is nothing tome. Though I think you have earned it. You have rowed me here, and I have taught you a few things that might help you in a scrap. The scales are not even, to my thinking.\" She pressed the coins into Lif's palm and closed his fingers over them. \"Your life is your own,\" she said, quietly, \"as is your vengeance. I have told you already, I think you should wait, earn some coin, make a home for yourself somewhere quiet and let sometime pass.\" She looked at the town and fortress, her mouth twisting. \"Far from this stink, if you ask me. And when the time is right, go back to Fellur and put sharp steel in Guðvarr's belly. But it is your choice, the two of you. If you wish to rush back in search of your vengeance and practise your newfound skills on Guðvarr now,\" she shrugged.\n\nMord and Lif looked atone another.\n\n\"Keep your wits about you and your blades sharp,\" Orka said to them and then she was turning and striding down the pier and onto the dockside. She did not look back, her thought-cage filled with the task ahead of her.\n\nMy son, if you are here, I will find you. And anyone who stands in my way will wish they hadn't." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elvar banked her oar as the square sail of the Wave-Jarl was unfurled, the wool stinking of mutton-tallow and grease. The sail sagged fora moment and Sighvat bellowed orders, Biórr and a handful of others dragging on the rigging, and then the sail billowed and filled with a south-easterly that hurled them slicing through the waves like afresh-cast spear.\n\nThey were sailing across Lake Horndal, wide as a small sea, the water deep, night-black and impenetrable, and land was just a thin smudge on the edge of Elvar's vision. She twisted on her sea-chest and looked back over her shoulder at the trading town of Starl shrinking behind them. They had stayed there two days, long enough to restock their provisions: fresh barrels of water, mead, stock fish and smoked meats, as well as re-caulking weathered strakes with pine-tar and horsehair, a coat of fresh tallow to protect the sails and scraping the hull of seaweed, algae and slime. The Wave-Jarl leaped across the white-tipped waves like a horse after along sleep and a good meal. Elvar heard Agnar laughing and saw him standing at the steering oar, feet spread. Rising from her bench she stumbled a step, then found her sea-footing and walked down the deck towards him. A hand gripped her wrist. It was Grend, looking up at her from his sea-chest. A lattice of thin red scars was laced around his hand and wrist, not yet healed, the same as Elvar bore, a reminder of their oath to one another and to Uspa. That had been twelve days ago, and since then they had packed and left the tavern, loaded the Wave-Jarl and rowed almost a hundred leagues." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Going to seethe chief,\" Elvar said with a scowl to the question in Grend's eyes.\n\nGrend nodded and let goof her wrist. If anything, he had become more protective over her since they had sworn their new oath. Elvar didn't like it.\n\nShe threaded her way across the deck, packed with provisions for what could be along journey on foot, pasta stack of wheels and axles and dismantled carts, five of them and eight pack-ponies that Agnar had purchased in Starl. They were tough beasts, tethered and munching on hay, seemingly unconcerned about the fact that they were no longer on dry land.\n\nAgnar smiled at Elvar as she reached him.\n\n\"Something I wanted to tell you, chief,\" she said.\n\n\"Aye, what is it, then?\" Agnar said. He gave her a hard look, a warning to take care over what came out of her lips. They had sworn to keep silent about their destination, the few of them who had sworn the oath, not even telling the rest of the Battle-Grim.\n\n\"Not until we are on the north shore of Lake Horndal,\" Agnar had said. \"With the Boneback Mountains behind us and the Battle-Plain all that we can see before us. There will be no going back, then, no chance of desertion or betrayal.\"\n\nSo, they had kept their silence, Agnar only telling the Battle-Grim that they had anew job and that it would pay well.\n\nPay better than any other job imaginable, Elvar thought. Finding Oskutreð will change our lives. It may change all of Vigrið.\n\n\"That day Bjarn was taken,\" she said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Aye,\" Agnar said, his frown thickening, eyes flickering to see if anyone was close, or pausing in their tasks to flap their ears.\n\n\"I fought one of Ilska's Raven-Feeders as they fled the tavern with the boy,\" Elvar continued.\n\nAgnar nodded, his frown fading now that he knew she was not talking about what had happened or been said inside the tavern kitchen.\n\n\"I think he was Tainted,\" Elvar said. \"He... changed. When he saw death looming. His teeth, his eyes.\"\n\n\"Are you sure?\" Agnar said.\n\nElvar took a moment. \"No,\" she said, thinking of the blond warrior, his beard and brynja, their combat lasting little more than a dozen heartbeats. And it had been dark, dawn only a hint in the perpetual gloom of Snakavik. \"It was dark, and over too quickly. But I have lived around the Tainted, my father and his Berserkir-thralls. I have seen them turn.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Agnar grunted, \"I don't doubt you have.\" He tugged on his beard. \"Tainted among Ilska's Raven-Feeders,\" he murmured. \"If he was, which you say is not certain, then the question is: Did Ilska the Cruel know?\"\n\nElvar shrugged.\n\n\"The Tainted can live among us and go unnoticed,\" Agnar said. \"Many do. That is the safer path for them. But to be a warrior in a crew like the Raven-Feeders, to live with death's talons in your shoulder, her breath on your neck, and still manage to control that wildness of the blood...\"\n\n\"Not so easy,\" Elvar said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Aye,\" Agnar grunted. \"And if Ilska knew, then why wasn't the warrior wearing a thrall-collar? Better to do her bidding, then, and she wouldn't have to pay him as much. Or she could have sold him?\" He looked at Elvar. \"I do not know if this is important or not, but it is good to know, and good that you remembered. A fine quality to have, to be able to go back over the details and pick out the thread of a thing.\" He patted her arm, saw the red and white scars spiralled around her wrist, then smiled.\n\n\"Look about you, Elvar Störrsdottir. Did you ever think that you would be travelling on such a journey, such an adventure?\"\n\n\"No,\" Elvar smiled back, the thought of what they were doing, of where they were going, sparking a constant glow of excitement in the pit of her belly.\n\nOskutreð, the great tree, centre of the dead god's realm. To be part of a quest that will live on in songs and saga-tales forever.\n\nShe grinned, wider, and turned to lookout over the prow of the Wave-Jarl, over the green-black of the lake, a cold wind whipping white-flecked foam on wave tips. To the east and west the Boneback Mountains reared, green slopes thick with pine and the glitter of waterfalls. Here and there a sheer cliff face showed yellow or grey, the hint of colossal, ancient bones. Starl was builtin the shadow of a high-curling rib of Snaka's that arched high as the clouds, one of the few places where his ancient skeleton could still be seen. The rib cast along shadow arcing across the wide water. The lake was one of two places where a handful of Snaka's ribs had not been overlaid with rock and earth. Perhaps there had been a lake here before the death of the great serpent, denying a solid foundation for the upheaval and resettling that Snaka's death caused. Elvar did not know, but whatever the reason, this was one of only two passes through the Boneback Mountains to the northern side. To the Battle-Plain, where the battle had raged the hardest on that dread day, the Guðfalla, when the gods fell, and where vaesen prowled now in greater numbers. Looking up she saw the silhouettes of osprey in the sky, and further east an eagle. The Wave-Jarl cut through the waves, the speed of it tugging Elvar's braid out behind her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "This is freedom, to sail with shield-brothers and sisters on a journey for fair battle-fame and dragon-hoarded treasure." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In search of fabled Oskutreð. The joy of it bubbled in her veins and she laughed out loud.\n\nElvar sat with her back to a hawthorn tree with a trencher balanced on her knees. She used a small skinning seax to cut and skewer a fillet of still steaming oat-wrapped cod from the pan. She blew on it and huffed as she put it in her mouth, the flesh and fried oats too hot, but too delicious to wait for.\n\nThey had made landfall soon after midday of their second day on the lake and had searched fora suitable place to anchor and moor the Wave-Jarl. They were in a secluded inlet now, flanked with alder, birch and hawthorn. The wagons had been brought ashore and constructed with mallets and dowel-pins, the ponies hobbled close by. Elvar could hear the boat creaking on the water, and through the trees she glimpsed starlight reflecting silver around the ship and on the newly tarred hull. Lots had been drawn for who would stay to guard the ship, Elvar not feeling her usual fear at that possibility, because she knew that all who had sworn the oath to Uspa had no choice but to continue on the journey to Oskutreð.\n\nAll the Battle-Grim were gathered together, apart from Grend and Sighvat, who were first to take watch. They were not too faraway, though, lurking on the outer edge of the copse of trees that the company had made camp within. Agnar stood beside a firepit scratched into the ground, flames flaring and crackling, branches swaying above him. A pot hungover the fire, a barley stew simmering in it, and a flatiron pan layover hot embers, with more of the cod Elvar was eating frying in oats and butter." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A silence had settled over the gathering, because Agnar had just told them why they had ventured north, through the Boneback Mountains and into the heart of the Battle-Plain.\n\n\"Oskutreð?\" Huld said. She was the next youngest in the warband, after Elvar, her hair black as night. She reached up and tugged on the bear-claw that hung from a leather cord about her neck. Elvar saw her own emotions flickering across Huld's face: disbelief, followed by fear and excitement.\n\n\"Aye,\" Agnar said.\n\n\"How?\" another voice asked. It was lean, grey-haired Sólín, who had been picking her teeth with a seax. Her arm hung at her side now.\n\n\"There is much to the tale,\" Agnar said. \"Uspa stole a book of magic, a Galdrabok, from Ilska the Cruel.\"\n\n\"The Graskinna,\" Uspa said, her voice a hiss from where she sat at the edge of the shadows. Kráka and the Hundur-thrall were sitting with her.\n\n\"Uspa was destroying it when we found her, throwing it into the molten fires of Iskalt Island. But not before she had read it and learned its secrets,\" Agnar smiled.\n\n\"So Ilska's attack was not for the boy. It was for her,\" Huld said, looking at Uspa.\n\n\"Aye,\" Agnar said, \"that is what we think. They took the boy in their rush to flee. Perhaps to trade or bargain with us, with Uspa.\"\n\n\"Ilska could be following us, then,\" Elvar said, voicing a possibility that had been lurking in her thought-cage." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Biórr came and sat beside her, a bowl of barley stew and black bread in his hand.\n\n\"She could,\" Agnar agreed. \"Though there has been no sign of her.\" He shrugged. \"I hope that she does. It will make fulfilling my oath easier.\" He pulled back the sleeve of his tunic to show the spiralling scars around his hand, wrist and forearm. In the flame-glow they looked like rings of fire. \"I swore the blóð svarið, the blood oath, to Uspa the Seiðr-witch. She will guide us to Oskutreð, and I will get her son back or die in the trying.\" He looked around. \"Others swore it, too. Sighvat. Elvar. Grend. Kráka.\"\n\nA jerk of Biórr's head as he looked at her.\n\n\"And even though you do not bear these marks,\" Agnar continued, raising his scarred fist, \"if you follow me to Oskutreð, then you are bound by it too.\" He blew out along breath. \"Oskutreð, the great Ash Tree, where the gods fought and fell. Ulfrir, Orna, Berser, Rotta, all of them. Their remains, their riches, their war gear. Their captains...\" His words spun a saga-tale of gold and wealth, of fame and fortune unimaginable. Elvar could seethe fire of it sparking to life in the eyes of everyone around her.\n\n\"Will you follow me?\" Agnar said, his voice little more than a whisper.\n\n\"We will follow you, Agnar Fire-Fist,\" Biórr said.\n\nVoices rang out, a chorus of heya's, oaths and cheers." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Then let us seal it with some mead,\" Agnar cried, laughing and rolling a barrel into view.\n\nThe cheers were louder as the barrel was opened and horns were dipped. Agnar gave full drinking horns to all of his Battle-Grim, laughing and smiling as he did, people raising their horns and drinking, to Agnar, to Oskutreð, to the Battle-Grim. Elvar lifted her horn and took a deep draught of mead, feeling the honey-sweet trickle down her throat and send a warm glow through her belly. Agnar smiled at her and walked on.\n\nBiórr drank beside her, quietly sipping.\n\n\"So, we are to Oskutreð, then,\" he said, nodding to himself. \"That is quite a thing.\"\n\n\"Heya, so it is,\" Elvar agreed, holding her mead horn up and clinking his, then drinking some more.\n\n\"A toast,\" Biórr said, smiling at her. \"To finding Oskutreð and changing the world.\"\n\nElvar echoed him and they drank together.\n\n\"I am glad you, we, are sworn to be finding Bjarn,\" Biórr said.\n\n\"There is a kindness in you,\" Elvar said, liking how Biórr often mentioned Bjarn.\n\nBiórr shrugged, looking away. \"It is because I need a rematch of tafl board with him. He beat me the last time, and I need my revenge.\"\n\nElvar smiled. \"I have been thinking about that day, when Bjarn was taken,\" she said. \"Why did Ilska run? She fled Snakavik, fled from us. If she wanted to trade the boy, why did she do that?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Who knows the mind of Ilska the Cruel?\" Biórr said. \"I doubt that she was running because she was scared of us. But maybe she wanted to avoid a scrap. Let things calm down before she tried to trade with us. It is not so easy to bargain and trade with people when you have a blood feud with them.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Elvar nodded. \"And they had killed Thrud.\"\n\nA twist of Biórr's lips and he looked away.\n\n\"He was your friend,\" Elvar said.\n\n\"His death, it was my fault,\" Biórr said heaving a sigh.\n\n\"It was an ambush and a fight,\" Elvar said. \"Lucky that you and Uspa came out of it breathing.\" She thought about Agnar's words to her, as they were crossing the lake. \"We all live with death's talons in our shoulder, her breath on our neck,\" she said. \"Thrud knew that as well as we do.\"\n\n\"That is a truth,\" Biórr said, looking into the hearth fire. They were silent fora while, sipping at their mead.\n\n\"It cannot have been easy leaving Snakavik behind,\" Biórr eventually said, startling Elvar. \"Leaving your kin behind,\" he added at the twist of her eyebrow.\n\n\"It was not so hard,\" Elvar said. \"My father is not an easy man to like, and my brother Thorun is an arseling.\"\n\n\"You have another brother, though,\" Biórr said.\n\n\"Aye, Broðir.\" She smiled. \"I do like him. But, he is... content, with his lot in Snakavik.\"\n\n\"And you are not?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No,\" Elvar said. \"My father would have sold me off as a brood bitch to Queen Helka's spawn. I would not have been content with that.\"\n\n\"Some would think that a fine life,\" Biórr said, \"not wanting for anything: warmth, food, silver in plenty. Power.\"\n\n\"Not me,\" Elvar snarled as she sipped her mead. \"I want to earn my own battle-fame and silver, not be given it, or ride on the reputation of those before me.\" She thought of her father, and the ever-fading memories of her mother, just fractured images now, of her smile, her laugh, her touch. She felt eyes upon her and shivered, looked at Biórr.\n\nHe was staring at her, his eyes glittering in the firelight.\n\n\"What?\" Elvar said.\n\n\"You area rare thing,\" Biórr smiled. He reached out, his fingertips brushing the marks on the back of Elvar's hand, sending a shiver through her. Gently he gripped her hand and held it up to the firelight, turning it so that the lattice of scars glowed like red rivers from Eldrafell, the fire mountain. \"I follow Agnar Battle-Grim, but I will also follow you, Elvar Troll-Slayer, Elvar Fire-Fist,\" he said quietly. Then he leaned forwards and touched his lips to hers. It was just a caress, but it sent a tremor through Elvar, as if ice had trickled down her spine. She pulled away, startled, and he smiled at her.\n\nThe sound of footsteps approached, twigs cracking in the darkness behind them, and then Grend was looming above Elvar, looking down at them with a deep scowl on his face." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Your watch,\" he said, his eyes shifting from Elvar to Biórr and then back to Elvar.\n\nElvar stood hurriedly, nodded and walked off into the darkness." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Orka satin the corner of a tavern with a jug of watered ale and a drinking cup. It had not helped to relieve the headache that pounded and pulsed. Smoke from a hearth fire was slowly filling the room, too much of it to filter through the smoke hole in the vaulted roof, the reek of whale oil and hops and urine thick in the air. She had chosen the darkest corner of the tavern, wrapped anew cloak that she had purchased from one of the many traders lined along the dockside streets of Darl about her and pulled up the hood. The cloak was a grey wool herringbone that covered her brynja and weapons, and the hood was brown homespun wool, casting her face in shadow. This was the eleventh tavern she had visited in little more than a day since she had walked away from Mord and Lif, mostly just sitting and listening, sometimes asking a barkeep or serving girl a question or two. In return, so far, she had received only silence or dark looks.\n\nA dozen or so people sat at tables, mostly sailors from docked ships and a couple of whores smiling at men deep in their cups. Closest to her was a man sitting and stirring a bowl of stew. One side of his head was burn-scarred, what hair he had left on his head tied back tight at his neck. A short-axe and seax hung from his belt, and Orka spied the hilt of another seax poking from his boot.\n\n\"Want something to eat?\" a serving girl asked her, a young girl in a dirty hangerock over a threadbare tunic.\n\n\"No,\" Orka said. The girl moved to turn away, but Orka pulled her hand from her belt and rolled a bronze coin on the table. The sound of it drew the girl's gaze like carrion calls to crows." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"If you want a man, or a woman, I can find one for you,\" the serving girl said. A pause. \"I finish soon...\"\n\n\"I'm looking for someone,\" Orka said.\n\n\"Who?\"\n\n\"Drekr,\" Orka said, loudly enough to fill the room.\n\nThe serving girl blinked; other heads turned, looking Orka's way fora moment.\n\n\"Don't know anyone that goes by that name,\" she muttered, turning and hurrying off. She glanced at the burned man as she passed him, but he continued to stare at his bowl of stew. Slowly he lifted the spoon and slurped a mouthful. The girl reached the bar, where what looked like the landlord dragged her close and had a hissing conversation with her.\n\nOrka took a sip from her cup.\n\nThe landlord strode around the bar towards her. He was balding, with a flat nose and red veined cheeks. On his belt he wore a seax in a worn leather scabbard.\n\n\"You should go,\" he said.\n\n\"I'm minding my own business,\" Orka said, \"and I haven't drunk this jar of horse-piss that I have paid for, yet.\" She lifted the cup and sipped, twisting her lips.\n\n\"Have your coin back,\" he said, flipping her a half-copper. \"Don't need your sort round here.\"\n\n\"My sort?\" Orka said.\n\n\"Out,\" he grunted, his hand going to the hilt of his seax.\n\nOrka stood, her chair scraping, and rose to her full height, looking down at him. She was ahead taller, and wider as well. He took a step back, a ripple of fear crossing his face, his eyes flickering to the burned man and then back to Orka." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Don't want no trouble,\" he said sullenly.\n\nOrka walked past him and out through the tavern door into a face full of hissing rain. It was dark, which meant it was somewhere between midnight and dawn, as the summer nights were lengthening towards solstice. Orka turned left and walked on twenty or thirty paces, then turned into a shadowed alley that ran between the tavern and the next building. She stood and waited, hidden in darkness, leaning against a wattle and daub wall at an angle where she could seethe street in front of the tavern's entrance. After a count of a hundred the tavern door creaked and a figure stepped out, looked both ways, then turned right and walked away. It was the burned man.\n\nOrka followed him.\n\nShe kept at a distance, clinging to the shadows. Despite the hour the streets were busy, song and laughter echoing out from numerous taverns, drunks stumbling, traders shouting to sell their wares, spits of rabbit and squirrel turning over fires that hissed in the rain, soups and stews steaming in cauldrons. The burned man walked through a series of wide, bustling streets, seemingly in a half-circle around the base of the hill the fortress of Darl was built upon. Canals had been carved into the land, feeding from the river like leeches, and the burned man led Orka pasta host of moored ships, boathouses and barns. The acrid stench of a tanner's yard clawed up her nose and she saw a courtyard with skins pinned and stretched upon frames ready for scraping. It was quieter here. The burned man was turning again and they were soon back in a street full of taverns, torchlight flickering, deeper shadows in the alleys, whores and cutpurses plying their trades. Mud sucked at Orka's boots." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The burned man stopped at a large tavern, a sign creaking above the entrance painted with a red-wounded warrior and runes." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Orka moved a few steps closer to see through the rain, then stopped, merging with the shadows at the entrance to an alley. The tavern was called The Dead Drengr. Three figures stood outside, two of them men in wool and leather, both tall and thickset, one bald and with a cudgel in his hand. He nodded to the burned man.\n\nThe other figure was a woman, clothed in a brynja and cloak, the bulk of a sword visible beneath the cloak. She had a shield slung over her back, painted black with gold eagle wings spread.\n\nOne of Helka's drengrs.\n\nShe stepped in front of the burned man, but the bald man with the cudgel said something and she moved aside.\n\nThe burned man entered the tavern.\n\nOrka stood in the shadows, watching, waiting, thinking, the rain soaking into her hood and cloak. Grey light began to leak into the street, the herald of dawn.\n\nThen she was slipping into an alley. It was empty apart from rats, and she emerged on the far side to seethe glitter of an oil-black canal dappled with rainfall, boats moored and bumping gently on the water. She crept along the back wall of a building, and then she was at the rear of The Dead Drengr. A high wattle wall and gates enclosed a courtyard, stables and other outbuildings. Orka heard the whicker of horses. A voice.\n\n\"Move,\" the voice said, and then a figure emerged from the open gate. It was a man, tall and thickset like the two on the tavern's front door, a hood pulled up over his head, a wooden staff in his hands. Behind him walked a line of children: seven, eight, more, all in cloaks and hoods, their hands bound at the wrists. Orka could hear some of the children crying. Another man followed at their rear." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The first man reached a boat moored on the canal and jumped in, ushering the children after him, spitting out sharp commands. An awning had been rigged across the rear half of the boat behind the oar-bench, and the first children clambered underneath the woollen sheet. One refused to climb onto the boat and just fell to her knees, sobbing. The man at the rear cuffed the child and hoisted her up by her hair, throwing her into the boat.\n\nOrka cursed herself for leaving her spear in the room she'd rented earlier, but she had wanted to look as inconspicuous as possible. Her hands checked over her other weapons, an old habit. She had bought plain scabbards for the two seaxes she had pulled from Thorkel's body, and now one of them was hanging from the front of her belt across her hips, and the other was nestled in the small of her back. She checked the draw on both, that they would not stick, and then lifted her hand-axe from the loop on her belt.\n\nWithout conscious thought she was moving, running across a mud-slick path to the canal, her axe in one fist, a seax hissing into the other.\n\nThe man on the boat must have glimpsed movement because he stopped pushing children into the boat and looked up at her. Orka's arm swung and her axe was spinning through the air. It took the man in the face with a wet slap like splitting wood. He fell back and disappeared into the canal with a splash.\n\nThe second man stared, frozen fora moment, then turned. He was reaching for an axe at his belt and opening his mouth as Orka hit him. Her seax punched into his belly and she headbutted him across the nose. He gave a grunt and muffled cry as she ripped her blade across his torso, then shoved him hard. He stumbled backwards, blood and intestines spilling at his feet, tripped over the edge of the canal and then he was gone, too, just a widening ripple in the canal to mark his existence." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There was a frozen moment as Orka looked back at the tavern gates, waiting to see if anyone had heard. No movement, no sound.\n\n\"Breca?\" Orka asked desperately to the children who stood staring at her from the boat, more shadows beneath the awning peering out at her.\n\n\"Breca?\" she said again, then a child opened her mouth to scream.\n\n\"No,\" Orka pleaded. \"I won't hurt you. They took my son, Breca. Is he here?\"\n\nAnother silence, all of the children staring. One snuffled, started to cry again.\n\n\"No one called Breca here,\" a boy said, with dark curly hair and large eyes. He looked older than the others, with maybe twelve or thirteen winters on his back.\n\n\"Are you sure?\" Orka said, stepping into the boat. Children cowered away from her and she froze, then pulled her rain-soaked hood back. She was wearing Thorkel's nålbinding cap, her blonde hair braided, a coil across one shoulder.\n\n\"Anyone here called Breca?\" the boy said, looking at his companions. They were all grime-streaked and hollow-eyed. Some shook their heads; others just stared.\n\n\"There are others,\" a girl said. \"Like us.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\" Orka said. \"Where? Here? Come close. I'll cut your bonds,\" she added and squatted down.\n\nThe girl took a hesitant step towards her and held her arms out, tied at the wrists. \"I heard Bersi talking about them.\"\n\n\"Bersi?\" Orka said as she raised her seax to the leather cord around the girl's wrist.\n\nThe girl nodded over the side of the boat, a twist of revulsion creasing her face and she spat where the man who had received Orka's axe in the face had fallen. Orka lamented the loss of her axe." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I will find another.\n\n\"Bersi was talking about others like us, that had been kept in there.\" The girl looked at the tavern. \"They're gone now.\"\n\nOrka sliced through the leather cord, freeing the girl's arms. She rubbed her wrists and gave a hesitant smile.\n\n\"You're free now,\" Orka said.\n\nOthers held their wrists out and Orka sawed at them until all were free of the leather bindings.\n\n\"Why have they taken you?\" she asked the older lad. \"What do they want you all for?\"\n\n\"Don't know,\" the lad shrugged.\n\n\"One last thing,\" Orka said. \"Do you know a man named Drekr?\"\n\nLooks of fear.\n\n\"Where is he?\" Orka said, a snarl.\n\n\"In there,\" the first boy who had spoken to her said. He pointed at the tavern.\n\nOrka stood and stepped off the boat onto the canal side, then looked back at the older boy.\n\n\"You're free now,\" she said. \"Will you help these others?\" She gestured to the rest of the children, who were sniffling, wide-eyed with fear.\n\n\"I will,\" he nodded.\n\n\"Good. If you can row a boat, take this one. If not, run, fast and far, and do not look back.\"\n\nShe walked towards the tavern." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Varg dropped a ladleful of cold porridge into his bowl.\n\n\"Don't look so disappointed,\" Svik said to him. The warrior was sitting against a tree, the first hint of dawn lancing through branches into the glade they had camped within and tinting his features with gold.\n\n\"It's cold,\" Varg complained.\n\n\"There are worse things than cold porridge in this world.\" Svik smiled up at him. \"You will most likely be meeting some of them soon.\"\n\n\"That does not make me happier, if that is what you were trying to do,\" Varg told him, still staring at the porridge.\n\nGlornir had ordered no fires as they had moved into the foothills before the Bonebacks.\n\nIn truth Varg was used to eating much worse: the food and rations on Kolskegg's farm that had been given to the thralled farmworkers had been little better than the slop fed to the pigs.\n\nIt is strange how quickly we become accustomed to better things. It was not so long ago that hot porridge with cream and honey was a feast beyond compare. Now it is... normal.\n\n\"Here, have some of my cheese,\" Svik said, slicing a wedge from a hard round sitting on a trencher at his side. \"Please take it, before your mood infects me and I cut my own throat.\"\n\n\"In that case, don't eat the cheese,\" Røkia said to Varg, nudging him with her elbow as she slopped cold porridge into her own bowl. \"This could be the answer to my dreams.\" She gave Svik a cold smile.\n\n\"She loves me really,\" Svik said as he shook the cheese at Varg, who took it and sat beside the slim, gleaming warrior." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You really do like cheese, don't you?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Varg observed.\n\n\"Cheese saved my life,\" Svik said.\n\n\"Oh no, not that story again,\" Røkia said, rolling her eyes. \"Do not ask him how.\"\n\n\"How?\" Varg asked Svik.\n\nSvik grinned and shifted, making himself comfortable. Other Bloodsworn were gathering around, Einar pushing through them to sit close to Svik and Varg.\n\n\"I love this story,\" Einar said.\n\n\"That is only because one of your kin is in it,\" Røkia said.\n\n\"I am not a troll,\" Einar said, giving Røkia a hurt look, \"I just have big bones.\"\n\nRøkia raised an eyebrow.\n\nTorvik came and joined them.\n\n\"Svik is a great tale-teller,\" Torvik whispered to Varg.\n\n\"When I was young,\" Svik said, \"I had two older brothers, and we lived in a steading on the eaves of a forest. One day when it was still early my two brothers came running out of the trees, frightened for their lives. They had gone to cut wood for our winter store, but a troll had come upon them and threatened to eat them.\"\n\n\"Trolls are nasty like that,\" Einar whispered to Varg.\n\n\"Being both proud and practical, even if I was only young, I thought that this was not an acceptable situation,\" Svik said. \"We needed the wood stores for winter or we would freeze, and also I did not like the thought of someone threatening my family. So, I set off into the woods, remembering to take around of cheese with me in a small hemp sack, as I might begone awhile and become hungry.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Sensible,\" Einar commented.\n\n\"I found the deadwood and cut timber that my brothers had begun working on, their axes and saws and other tools left where they had dropped them. There was no sign of a troll, so I picked up an axe and continued with the hard work. Before long I grew tired and so stopped fora break. I sat on a log and took out the cheese to eat some, but as I did so I felt the ground tremble and heard branches snapping, and turned to see a troll striding towards me, his antlers and tusks lowered.\"\n\n\"As all know, that means the troll was angry and wanted a fight,\" Einar whispered to Varg. \"Trolls are very territorial.\"\n\nVarg nodded.\n\n\"I must confess,\" Svik said, \"I was scared at the sight of this troll. I had only seen fourteen or fifteen winters, and this troll was bigger than Einar, and I could clearly see that he meant me harm. In my fright I just stood and stared at the creature, still holding onto the cheese.\"\n\nVarg looked around. There was at least a score of Bloodsworn gathered close, more joining them, eating their porridge and listening with smiles on their faces. Skalk was there, with Olvir and Yrsa, the three of them listening intently.\n\n\"The troll was striding towards me, but then it stopped,\" Svik continued. \"It just stood there, staring at me. More precisely, staring at my hand. I looked down and saw that in my fright I had made a fist, and in my fist was the cheese. I was squeezing it. In fact, I had squeezed it so hard that the whey was pouring from it, making a pool about my feet. The troll blinked. \"You are strong fora small one,\" he said. 'I have never seen someone crush a rock to dust with their bare hands.\" Svik smiled at them all. \"Trolls do not have the most clever about them,\" he said, tapping his temple with one finger, \"and this one thought that I had crushed a rock in my fist. Thinking that this could work to my advantage I did not enlighten him to the truth. Instead I explained, very politely, that I was cutting wood for my winter store and that it was best not to make me angry, or late. The troll was so scared that I would turn my rock-crushing fists upon him that he offered to help me.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Laughter rippled around the ring of warriors, loudest from Olvir and Yrsa. Varg found a smile splitting his own lips.\n\n\"What happened then?\" Einar asked, excited as a bairn the morning of his name-day.\n\n\"You know what happens next, you oaf,\" Røkia said rolling her eyes.\n\n\"I like the way Svik tells it,\" Einar grunted.\n\n\"After we had cut and split all of the wood the troll invited me back to his cave for some porridge,\" Svik said. \"I feared to insult him by saying no, and so I went with him. His cave was big and dark and damp, but there was a store of treasure within it: weapons, coins, rings of bronze and silver that he had taken from the warriors he had slain. The troll put a pot of porridge over the fire, and soon it was ready to eat. \"How do you fancy a competition?\" the troll says tome, a cunning look to his eyes. 'Let us see who can eat the most porridge?\"\n\n\"\"Of course,\" I answered, knowing that if I declined I would insult the troll and enrage him, but inside I was shaking, as I knew that if I lost the competition the troll would see that as weakness and most likely kill me.\" He looked around; all were leaning forward now, their bowls of porridge forgotten.\n\n\"When the troll went about finding two bowls and spoons for us to eat from, I quickly took the hemp sack that my cheese had been in and stuffed it up my tunic, the bag's mouth hidden close to my neck. The troll returned with two bowls, each as big as that pot there.\" Svik pointed to their porridge pot, as big as Varg's shield. Warriors whistled and shook their heads. \"The troll filled mine and gave it tome. It was so heavy I could not lift it, so I let the troll just set it between my legs on the ground. And then we began to eat,\" Svik said. \"I could seethe troll was enjoying his meal very much, making all kinds of slurping sounds, and soon I was feeling full. So, I checked that he was not keeping a close eye on me, and then I poured a spoonful into the hemp sack under my tunic. I did this time and time again, until the hemp sack was bulging, and still the troll continued to eat.\" Svik pulled a face. \"I was at a loss, frightened for my life, and full to bursting as well. And then I had an idea.\" He held a finger up, looking at each face around him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"\"I am so full,\" I said to the troll, \"I do not think I can eat another mouthful.\"\n\n\"The troll smiled at me, porridge dripping from his teeth. \"There is a fate for winners, and one for losers,\" the troll said, and I knew full well what he meant by that. Slowly, I put my hand to my belt, where I had a small sharp knife. I drew it. The troll frowned at me and tensed, ready for my attack. But instead I turned the knife on myself and stabbed myself in the belly.\"\n\nThere were gasps around the circle and Svik re-enacted the strike, pretending to plunge a blade into his gut and saw it across his belly, doubling over, his face twisted in pain. Then he sat straight and smiled. \"But instead of my entrails falling out, all that spilled onto my hands was porridge. I had stabbed through my tunic into the hemp sack below, then sliced it so that porridge poured out.\"\n\nMurmurs of approval around the glade.\n\n\"\"Ah, that feels better,\" I said, and immediately began to eat more porridge from my pot, cunningly spooning it into the top of the sack. With each pretend mouthful more porridge would leak from the hole in my tunic.\"\n\nEinar smiled broader than the sun, nodding at the clever of it.\n\n\"The troll stared at me with eyes wide and big as two plates. He nodded respectfully. \"You area man who takes his porridge-eating seriously,\" he said, and then with a sigh and a shake of his head he went back to eating from his own bowl. Eventually I could see that he was becoming full. He started to wriggle and shift and pull faces. \"I cannot believe this,\" the troll said at last, \"but I think I am to be out-eaten by a human. My belly is so full it feels like it will burst.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"\"Ah,\" I said, \"I understand how you feel. No one likes to lose an eating competition. Especially to such a small and inconsequential human such as me.\" The troll nodded and scowled, agreeing. \"It all depends on how much you want to win, and how far you are prepared to go,\" I said, and looked down at the knife-slash across my tunic, and the porridge that was still leaking from it.\n\n\"The troll stared at me, and his scowl turned to a smile. \"I am as brave as you, little man, and I am prepared to do what I must to win.\" And with that the troll pulled his own knife of flint from his belt and slashed his belly open. To this day I can still seethe confusion on his face as his guts spilled out onto his lap, instead of his porridge.\"\n\nThere was a silence around the glade, and then laughter erupted, Varg's voice joining them all, though Einar laughed the loudest, slapping the ground with a big slab of a hand. Olvir and Yrsa wiped tears of laughter from their eyes, Olvir bending over, hands on knees.\n\n\"And so, that is why I try never to go anywhere without around of cheese,\" Svik said as the laughter died.\n\n\"Ah, but that is deep-cunning,\" Einar said, still rocking back and forthwith mirth.\n\nGlornir strode into the glade, his brynja gleaming in the fractured sunlight. \"Are you trying to announce to every vaesen fora hundred leagues that we are here?\" he frowned. \"On your feet. We are moving out.\"\n\nThe camp burst into movement. Torvik jumped up and offered Varg his hand.\n\n\"Come on, brother, there's no lamb for the lazy wolf,\" Torvik said to him with a grin." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'm not lazy,\" Varg said as he climbed to his feet, though he was thinking on the fact that Torvik had just called him brother. It flooded his thought-cage with memories of Frøya, who had called him brother their whole life together. She had been his only friend, the only person he could trust, and now she was gone. Torvik calling him brother reminded him of her, and sent conflicting emotions swirling through him. Part of him felt guilt at the reminder of his sister and his unfulfilled oath. Another part of him liked it. It made him feel as if he were no longer alone in this hard world.\n\nVarg helped break camp and get kit and camp gear packed and loaded onto the three ponies they had taken from the farm. As the sun clawed over the rim of the world they moved out, Torvik and the other scouts following Edel into the foothills ahead of Glornir and the Bloodsworn. Varg walked with his shield slung across his back and his spear in his fist. Shadows stretched long and dark through the wooded hill, the Bloodsworn falling into a loose column both before and behind Varg. They were moving through a land of tree-cloaked hills and shadow-dark valleys, of sun-drenched meadows and rivers winding and glistening like jewel-crusted serpents that coiled through the land. The new-risen sun blazed bright as Varg stepped out onto a hillside of rolling meadow and left the trees behind him. It had been eight days since they had left the ship and deserted farm behind and now the Boneback Mountains filled the horizon, towering high and wide as far as he could see. Snow-capped peaks and dark-green slopes of thick-forested pine looked like white hair and a moss-covered cloak across the shoulders of an ancient, colossal giant. The days were becoming longer as they moved further north and the year approached the summer solstice, when daylight would hold the darkness at bay fora whole month." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In the distance he saw Edel and her hounds leading the scouts, crossing a stream and disappearing into the woodland beyond. Closer ahead of him he saw Glornir walking with Vol. He increased his pace, striding through green grass and purple heather and, as he drew closer to them, he saw that Vol was leaning towards Glornir, her jaw moving.\n\n\"She should have reached us by now,\" Vol was saying, Varg catching the words snatched on the wind. Glornir just marched on and said nothing in response, using the shaft of his long-axe as a walking stick.\n\n\"We should be looking for her, not walking into the Bonebacks with Helka's whoremaster,\" Vol said, louder.\n\nGlornir looked at her. \"We are the Bloodsworn, warriors for hire. This is what we do.\" He tugged on his grey beard. \"I worry for her, too, but Vigrið is a large place, and we do not know whereto look. She will have to find us. I have made no secret of our path, where we have stayed-\"\n\nVarg slipped on a patch of sun-dried grass, the ground dusty, then righted himself, Glornir and Vol turning to look at him.\n\n\"What?\" Glornir said to him.\n\nVarg increased his pace until he was walking alongside them.\n\n\"The akáll I spoke of,\" he said.\n\n\"No,\" Glornir said. \"Perhaps there will be a time, if you have what it takes to become one of us, but that time is not now.\" He glowered at Varg. \"I have explained this to you. Do not ask me again.\"\n\nVarg opened his mouth, feeling anger stir in him, urged on by the urgency in his gut, the need that he felt every waking moment. To honour his oath. To honour and avenge his sister." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Do not,\" Vol said to him, raising a hand. She stared at Varg, too, but without Glornir's anger. If anything, he saw pity in her eyes. His footsteps faltered and he dropped back, walking alone, his head downcast. The anger in his gut stirred, frustration fanning its flame. It was like a sleeping forge, the coals hot beneath the ash, waiting to flare with afresh blast of air from the bellows.\n\nPerhaps there will be a time, you say. But when will that time come, if ever? Am I wasting what little time I have left on a task that means nothing tome? What are Jarl Helka's people tome? I never knew them, never cared for them, he thought. A knot of emotion rose into his throat. Frøya is all that I ever cared for.\n\nHe heard voices behind him, turned and saw Skalk striding through the meadow with Olvir and Yrsa. He blinked tears from his eyes, and with an act of will pushed the emotion bubbling within him away, into the deep dark corners of his soul.\n\nA Galdurman, a voice said in his thought-cage. One who can perform an akáll...\n\nSkalk must have felt Varg's eyes, for he looked at him, and Varg returned the gaze.\n\nThis time Varg did not tell that insistent voice in his head to be silent." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Orka slipped into the courtyard of The Dead Drengr. Above her rainclouds shredded and blew across the sky like tattered banners. Shadows stretched and faded as dawn leaked into the world, a quiet stillness in the air. Behind her she heard the splash of oars dipping into water, the children she had freed rowing away. A horse looked out over its stable door at her and whinnied. Orka followed the curve of the wattle fence, one seax in her fist, the other still sheathed across the small of her back. There was one door to the tavern and Orka reached it, stood and listened a moment. She could hear the muffled sound of voices. Gently she lifted the latch and pulled the door open a little. Light bled out through the gap, voices louder: the general hum of conversation in a tavern, some drunken song. Orka could see a small room with cupboards, a clay oven glowing with fading heat, tables and shelves with cups, trenchers, eating boards. Knives and half-carved joints of meat. A door on the far side opened into the tavern. Orka glimpsed tables and chairs, people sitting and talking.\n\nShe stepped into the small room and pulled the door to behind her, taking care that the latch did not slip back into place. She took a look around and saw a set of wooden stairs leading up to aloft space. Another glance into the tavern. No one had heard her. She looked back to the steps.\n\nI need to know if there is anyone in that loft, she thought. Don't want an enemy at my back or blocking the only exit once I'm in the tavern.\n\nShe walked to the steps and slowly and carefully climbed them, testing each foot, letting her weight settle, until she was in the loft. It was empty and dark; there were no windows, only the glow from a recently extinguished torch of rushes still seeping into the room. Water dripped from thick thatch. She stood and sucked in a breath. It was a room the size of the tavern below, rafters crisscrossed, cobwebs draping them. A score of small reed mattresses filled the floor space, the smell of urine and faeces thick in the air. Orka was about to turn when something caught her eye: a thread of leather disappearing into the reeds of the mattress closest to her. She reached out and pulled it, and held in a gasp." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was a small, wooden-carved sword dangling on a snapped leather cord.\n\nHer heart pounded, feeling like a drum in her chest, and her stomach lurched.\n\nShe remembered seeing the carving around Breca's neck, on their last night together in their home. A flood of memories tore through her thought-cage, of sitting and eating together, Breca angry about Virk's death, wanting to learn sword craft. Thorkel was talking about the right path, about choices. She felt a savage rush of emotion, her throat constricting and tears prickling her eyes.\n\nHe was here. My Breca was here. Alive.\n\nHope flared.\n\nWhere is he now? Where have they taken him? What do they want with him?\n\nShe thought of what to do next, of the choices before her.\n\nSometimes there are no choices. We are swept along in a current not of our own choosing.\n\nShe clenched her jaw, teeth grinding.\n\nI will be the current. I will be the course.\n\nMuted laughter filtered through floorboards from the tavern below. Orka pushed back the swell of emotion in her chest. Blinked away the tears. Made a fist around the wooden pendant, her knuckles whitening.\n\nMade a fist of her heart.\n\nShe looked down at the floorboards, light filtering through cracks from the room below, and heard voices, laughter.\n\nDrekr. The ones who stole my boy: who murdered my husband.\n\nI will be their death.\n\nShe pushed the pendant and cord into a pocket in her belt pouch. Then she turned and stepped carefully down the steps, back into the small room, and walked to the door that looked into the tavern." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A man stood behind a bar, grey-haired and balding, a bronze ring binding his beard. He was pouring ale into jugs. Most of the tables in the tavern were empty, one near the entrance beneath a shuttered window filled with six or seven people, men and women, all playing knucklebone. The burned man was sitting with them, smiling as he threw the bones. His face was thin and angular, his mouth wide, his upper teeth too long for his lips to cover them.\n\nCloser to Orka stood a woman, her back to Orka as she faced into the room. She was tall, wearing a quilted tunic, axe and seax hanging at her belt. Her gaze was fixed upon a table. Two figures sat there, heads close together, deep in conversation, and another man, a dark-haired warrior in mail with a shield upon his back, stood behind them. One of those sitting had a fine cloak pulled about them, a brooch fashioned as an eagle-wing, their face in shadow with a woollen hood pulled up high. The other man at the table was huge and hulking, his muscles bunched thick on his shoulders and back, looking like he had no neck. He wore a dark tunic, with knot-weave embroidery around the neck and chest, raven-hair pulled tight and braided down his back; his black beard had silver rings in it and his face was handsome, thick-browed and sharp-lined, or would have been but for the claw marks that scarred him. Four raking lines carved through him from forehead to chin, twisting his face and mouth. They were recent, judging by the rawness of the wounds, by the stitches and the scabbing.\n\nOrka stepped into the room and grabbed the female guard by the hair, dragged her back. She stabbed her seax into the woman's throat, sawing through cartilage and flesh to slice the blade free. The woman's arms flailed as a hiss and gurgle escaped her mouth, an explosion of arterial blood." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The man at the bar saw Orka first, his mouth dropping open, ale pouring over the rim of a jug and pooling on the bar as he stood frozen, staring.\n\nChairs scraped and shouts erupted from the knucklebone table. The hiss of steel dragged from leather. At the closer table the hooded figure looked from Orka to the bleeding woman in Orka's grasp and stood, stumbling back, their chair falling over, the hood falling clear to reveal a black-haired man, young and proud-faced.\n\nOrka recognised him from the dockside.\n\nHelka's son, Hakon.\n\nBehind him the drengr in mail stepped forwards, shrugged the shield off his back and into his fist, drew his sword and stood in front of Hakon.\n\n\"That's her, that's her: the one asking questions,\" the burned man shouted, pointing at Orka. Those around him spread wide, drawn steel in their fists.\n\nThe scar-faced man still satin his chair, turning to regard Orka with a scowl.\n\n\"That's my friend you've just put a blade through,\" he growled, his voice like gravel.\n\nOrka held the dying woman up by her hair. She wiped her seax on the woman's quilted tunic and let her drop, grabbing the axe from her belt as she slid to the ground.\n\n\"Do you recognise this?\" Orka said, holding the seax for the scar-faced man to see.\n\nHe blinked and lifted a hand to his face. His mouth twisted in what once would have passed fora smile.\n\n\"You are Drekr, then,\" Orka breathed.\n\n\"He was your man?\" Drekr asked as he stood slowly, his eyes still on the seax. He was taller and wider than Orka, seemed big enough to blot out the sky in this dark tavern. An axe hung from his belt. \"He fought well, your man. But he squealed like a pig when I stuck him.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Where is my son?\" Orka growled as she strode forwards into the room, her rage a white-hot flare, burning through her limbs.\n\nThe drengr guarding Hakon tried to guide the prince backwards but Hakon pushed the warrior forwards, towards Orka.\n\n\"Kill her,\" Hakon screeched. The drengr shrugged and stepped to meet Orka, shield raised, sword tip hovering over the rim, blocking Orka's way to Drekr and Hakon.\n\nOrka bent her knees and lifted her seax and axe, shuffling right as the drengr took a quickstep forwards and stabbed at her, high over his shield rim like a striking adder, the sword blade hissing past her face. Her axe darted out, hooking the drengr \"s shield and tugging the warrior forwards. He stumbled and swung his sword at Orka's head but she ducked, stepped in and punched the seax into his side, hard enough to burst the iron riveted rings asunder, stabbing deep, blood sluicing over her fist. She twisted the blade and the drengr gasped and stiffened, and Orka shoved him away, sending him tumbling into a table that cracked and splintered, collapsing beneath him.\n\nHakon yelled.\n\nMen and women from the knucklebone table came at Orka, six or seven of them, the burned man hovering behind them, shouting. The bartender leaped over the bar and drew a seax.\n\nThe door opened, the two guards from the street silhouetted by daylight, along with the other drengr.\n\nDrekr had his axe in his fist, part snarl, part smile on his face. He stepped around a chair." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Orka ran at him and ducked his axe swing, her shoulder crashing into his chest, lifting him from the ground and throwing him into an empty table, shattering it, splinters flying. She stumbled after him, chopping her axe at his face, but he rolled away, the axe crunching into wood. Movement to her left: a woman rushing in. Orka ripped her axe free, spun and sliced with her seax, cutting into the woman's arm as she chopped down at Orka. A scream rang out, followed by another as Orka hacked her axe into the woman's torso, felt ribs break and spun again, dragging the woman with her. There was a crunch as someone's seax slammed into the woman's head, the blow intended for Orka, a spurt of blood and bone in her face. Orka grabbed the collapsing woman, heaved her up with both hands and hurled her through the air into those behind her, sending them hurtling backwards into the shuttered window, wood splintering and light pouring in as they fell out into the street beyond.\n\nA blow to Orka's back, the sound of links from her brynja splintering, a line of hot fire, and she staggered forwards, tripped over a chair, twisted as she fell, feeling air hiss where her head should be, Drekr looming behind her swinging his axe. The bartender was there, slashing at her with his seax, and Orka rolled, chopped with her axe, felt it bite into an ankle, heard a scream and the bartender fell. She kicked outwith her legs, sending a ruined table crashing into Drekr's shins. He snarled and hacked it to splinters with his axe, strode after her.\n\nOrka scrambled away, pulled herself upon the bar, threw herself backwards under the hissing arc of Drekr's axe, twisting and slashing with her seax, and felt it bite, slicing through wool and flesh." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Aid the author, keep the plot going.\nTags: fantasy, norse mythology, dragons\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: The Shadow of the Gods\nChapter: 37" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Orka ran at him and ducked his axe swing, her shoulder crashing into his chest, lifting him from the ground and throwing him into an empty table, shattering it, splinters flying. She stumbled after him, chopping her axe at his face, but he rolled away, the axe crunching into wood. Movement to her left: a woman rushing in. Orka ripped her axe free, spun and sliced with her seax, cutting into the woman's arm as she chopped down at Orka. A scream rang out, followed by another as Orka hacked her axe into the woman's torso, felt ribs break and spun again, dragging the woman with her. There was a crunch as someone's seax slammed into the woman's head, the blow intended for Orka, a spurt of blood and bone in her face. Orka grabbed the collapsing woman, heaved her up with both hands and hurled her through the air into those behind her, sending them hurtling backwards into the shuttered window, wood splintering and light pouring in as they fell out into the street beyond.\n\nA blow to Orka's back, the sound of links from her brynja splintering, a line of hot fire, and she staggered forwards, tripped over a chair, twisted as she fell, feeling air hiss where her head should be, Drekr looming behind her swinging his axe. The bartender was there, slashing at her with his seax, and Orka rolled, chopped with her axe, felt it bite into an ankle, heard a scream and the bartender fell. She kicked outwith her legs, sending a ruined table crashing into Drekr's shins. He snarled and hacked it to splinters with his axe, strode after her.\n\nOrka scrambled away, pulled herself upon the bar, threw herself backwards under the hissing arc of Drekr's axe, twisting and slashing with her seax, and felt it bite, slicing through wool and flesh." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A cry from Drekr and then she crashed into him, the two of them stumbling back, Drekr tripping over a table and both of them falling out through the smashed window. People yelled and leaped out of the way as Orka and Drekr rolled together in the muddy street, Orka ending upon top, her axe arm pinned beneath Drekr, her seax pulling back to stab him. They were close, spitting and snarling in each other's faces.\n\n\"Where is my son?\" Orka grunted, her seax hovering.\n\nDrekr headbutted her. There was a burst of white light in her head, her strength leaking away, her limbs abruptly loose, and he heaved her off him, sent her rolling across the street. Spitting blood, she pushed upon to all fours and saw him rise, blood staining a cut across his torso as he strode towards her. Aline of pain from the wound across her back as she staggered to her feet, swept up the axe and seax where she'd dropped them, set her feet and snarled at him.\n\nDrekr smiled and hefted his axe in his fist. It was not along-axe, as Thorkel had favoured, but the haft was still long enough for Drekr to grip it two-handed, like along club.\n\nFigures burst out of the tavern, rushing at Orka, including the burned man.\n\n\"She's mine,\" Drekr snarled.\n\nThey slowed and formed a rough ring around Orka and Drekr instead, others in the street joining them. People emerged from other buildings, swelling the crowd. Orka heard shouts, bets of coin. She glimpsed Hakon in the gathering crowd, his drengr at his side." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Where is my son?\" Orka grunted as Drekr drew near.\n\n\"He is gone,\" Drekr said with a shrug.\n\nOrka moved on him and feinted left with her axe, aside-step and stab with the seax. There was a clang of steel as Drekr's axe blade deflected it. She stepped out of his range before he could counter. They circled each other a few moments, gauging, assessing. Drekr's footwork and balance were good: impressive for such a big man. But he had one weapon where Orka had two, and he was wearing wool while Orka wore a coat of mail.\n\nHe will tell me where Breca is, if I have to carve the answer from his flesh.\n\nThen she was moving in again, her two weapons a blur, striking in flurries. Sparks rang out, Drekr retreating, using his axe like a short staff, blocking, slicing, Orka swaying, stabbing, chopping, eyes fixed on his as she sought his life. An exchange of blows, strikes, parries and counters, and then they were stepping away from each other, both of them breathing hard. Orka felt a pain across her leg, below the knee, and glanced down to see blood soaking into her leg wrap. The pain arrived a few moments later, throbbing, burning.\n\nShe ignored it.\n\nDrekr scowled at her, a red line across his torso, another wound across his shoulder, his tunic torn and hanging. Orka glimpsed a tattoo across his shoulder and chest, a serpent with jaws open and fangs bared, its body all writhing knotwork.\n\nHe strode at her and she moved to meet him, axe high, seax low. He caught an overhand swing of her axe on his own axe shaft, wood clacking, a twist of his wrist and his axe blade sliced her forearm, her axe spinning from her grip. At the same time, she was stabbing her seax at his belly, but somehow he was twisting to the side, her seax stabbing into air, just nicking his tunic. He gave a short, stamping kick to her wounded leg and she staggered, dropped to one knee and then he was behind her, his axe shaft around her throat, squeezing." }, { "from": "human", "value": "She grabbed the shaft with her freehand and swung her seax behind her, wildly trying to find Drekr's flesh but slicing only air." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Black dots floated in front of her eyes.\n\n\"A good scrap,\" Drekr grunted behind her, the muscles in his arms straining and bulging like eels in a sack, \"but you are finished now. Know this as you take the soul road: your son will change the world.\"\n\nHe gave a savage wrench on the axe shaft, Orka feeling muscle and tendon tear in her neck, her vision greying, like a curtain of fog rising up all around her. Strength was draining from her limbs, her breath a ragged, burning gasp.\n\nDimly she heard distant sounds: the blowing of a horn, the thumping of hooves, all of it fading, falling away.\n\nThorkel. Breca. Their faces floated in her thought-cage, both of them staring at her, sombre-eyed, accusing.\n\n\"Avenge me,\" Thorkel whispered.\n\n\"Find me,\" Breca pleaded.\n\nSomething shifted, deep inside Orka, her consciousness and clarity returning with a snap. She felt her blood churn through her veins, the heat of anger changing, abruptly cold, primal, sweeping her body, fire and ice mingled. A flush of strength flooded her muscles, her vision returning in a rush, sharper, senses keener.\n\nThe horn was blaring louder, voices shouting commands, the tramp of many feet.\n\nShe let goof the axe shaft crushing her throat and grabbed Drekr's fist that was gripping the shaft, tore at it and felt the crackle of bone: a finger or thumb breaking.\n\nA snarl came from behind her as Drekr's grip loosened, and in a snapping, snarling burst Orka ripped herself free, threw herself forwards, twisting and turning, slashing with her seax. Drekr stumbled away, blood blossoming across one thigh, holding his axe clumsily, the knuckle around his thumb purpling and swelling." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Orka found her axe in the mud and stood.\n\n\"You will tell me where my son is,\" she snarled, a savage hate pulsing through her. She wanted to tear, rip, kill, to shred Drekr's flesh and pound his skull into the ground.\n\nShouts and screams sounded among the crowd, one man running between Orka and Drekr, then others. Orka saw Hakon in the crowd, pulling his hood up, turning and running, his drengr guard shielding him from the crush. She glanced away and saw a company of drengrs marching down the street, thirty or forty warriors with shields ready, spears pounding a steady rhythm on their shields as they advanced. A warrior rode at their rear, blowing on a horn.\n\n\"Can't have you getting out of this,\" Drekr said. \"My thought-cage tells me you will be a pain in the arse.\" He gestured and men stepped out of the crowd, those from inside the tavern, and the two that had stood guard outside. They moved in on Orka, a tightening circle of axes, cudgels, seaxes, all pointed at her.\n\nOrka set her feet and growled at them, turning slowly.\n\n\"Who wants to die first?\" she snarled.\n\nThere was a pounding of hooves and a horse appeared in the crowd, hurling people away. It rode closer, neighing and stamping, its rider stabbing down atone of the guards in the circle around Orka. The man fell away with a scream, a red gash down his chest and the horse pressed into the ring, the other guard raising his cudgel to swing at the rider, but a second horse and rider appeared, crashing into him, sending him flying." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Come on,\" the first rider shouted, a man leaning in their saddle and waving a hand at Orka.\n\nShe blinked, the red haze in her head fading a fraction, melting enough to realise who it was.\n\n\"Come on!\" Lif yelled again. He grabbed the neck of Orka's mail coat, his horse pounding on, dragging her with it, and together they crashed through the circle around her, sending the burned man reeling. Orka gripped Lif's forearm and jumped, heaving herself into the saddle behind him, Mord riding hard behind them.\n\nThey rode down the mud-slick street, people leaping out of their way, and then Lif was dragging on his reins and they were veering right into an alley. Orka looked back and caught a glimpse of Drekr standing and staring at her. He lifted his axe in a salute, a promise, and then Orka was plunging into the shadows." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Varg paused and wiped sweat from his brow. The terrain around them had shifted over the last few days of travel, from gentle hills and meadows to sharp slopes and twisting valleys. He was climbing a steep, rock-littered ravine, the Bloodsworn stretched out in along line behind him. Above him Glornir and Vol climbed together, and ahead of them he could just make out the forms of Torvik, Edel and the other scouts reaching the lip of this dried-out river and disappearing into a fringe of pinewoods. Edel's two wolfhounds stood at the ravine's rim, one of them looking down at Edel, barking and wagging its tail. To Varg it looked like level ground lay beyond the ravine's lip.\n\nAt least, that is what he hoped.\n\n\"Get moving, Varg No-Sense,\" Røkia called up to him. \"Or are you waiting for an eagle to swoop down and carry you the rest of the way?\"\n\n\"Mysore feet are wishing exactly that,\" Varg muttered, blisters throbbing on the soles of his feet. He rolled his shoulders and shrugged his shield upon his back, shifting the leather strap that bit into him, and walked on, using his spear like a walking staff. Sweat steamed from his body, the temperature palpably dropping as they climbed ever higher towards the Boneback Mountains, despite the clear skies and summer sun. Varg finally clambered over the rim of the riverbed, more like the gradient of a dried-out waterfall now, and looked ahead. He saw an open, rocky space and then trees looming tall, the scent of pine sap thick in the air.\n\nHe heard a grunt, the sound of rocks skittering behind him, and he turned to see Sulich stumble, his long warrior-braid swinging wildly as scree shifted beneath his feet. Varg thrust his spear shaft out and Sulich grabbed it to steady himself." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Hold tight,\" Varg said, and pulled Sulich up the rest of the slope and onto the rim.\n\n\"My thanks,\" Sulich said to him as he clambered onto level ground.\n\n\"And my apology,\" Varg said, \"for insulting you in Liga. About your kinsman's war gear.\" It was something that had chewed at Varg's thought-cage, but every time he had looked at Sulich the warrior had ignored him, or his brows had been knitted in away that discouraged any conversation.\n\nSulich looked at him and gave him along and appraising gaze, a hint of a frown.\n\n\"I am... was, a thrall,\" Varg continued. \"Have been one all of my life. This warrior's way, it is a mystery tome. I meant you no insult.\"\n\nSulich maintained his gaze, then gave a curt nod.\n\n\"We will think on it no more,\" he said.\n\n\"Thank you,\" Varg said.\n\nThe two of them stood and looked at the trees. Something about the shadowed gloom set Varg's hairs standing on end. The air was colder, Varg feeling it in his chest as he sucked in deep breaths, and he could seethe glimmer of frost patches on tree bark. His breath misted.\n\nThey set off into the trees together. The ground was spongy with needles and stiff with frost. Varg heard grunting behind them, turned and saw Skalk climbing over the ravine's rim. The Galdurman stopped, waiting while Olvir and Yrsa appeared over the rim behind him. They stood together in silence, staring at the woodland.\n\nA decision was made in Varg's thought-cage, and he stopped to take a drink from his water bottle, letting Sulich walk on ahead, and waited for Skalk and his two guards to draw near. The Galdurman glanced at him as Varg fell in beside him. Olvir the guard frowned and stepped closer to Skalk, while Yrsa's eyes were searching the shadows of the pinewood." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Your shield, it is unfinished,\" Skalk said as they walked along together. \"There is no blood-spatter upon it.\"\n\n\"I am recently come to the Bloodsworn,\" Varg said. \"I am not yet one of them, have not yet taken their oath.\"\n\n\"Ah, that is how they do things, then,\" Skalk said, nodding to himself. \"Like an apprenticeship to a blacksmith, or a farrier.\" He paused, a smile twitching his lips. \"Or to a Galdurman.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Varg said.\n\n\"And what is it you wish of me?\" Skalk said. \"You have a question, or a request?\"\n\n\"You see straight to the heart of it,\" Varg said, a tremor in his veins. Fear. Hope.\n\n\"Time is a gift, not for wasting,\" Skalk said.\n\n\"Straight to it, then,\" Varg said. \"I wish for an akáll to be done. It is important tome.\"\n\n\"Hmmm,\" Skalk said, nodding as they walked among the pine trees. \"That is no small thing. The Bloodsworn have a Seiðr-witch. As you are one of them, or soon to be, why do you not ask her?\"\n\n\"Because time is a gift, not for wasting,\" Varg said, \"and Glornir will not allow Vol to perform an akáll until I have sworn my oath to them.\"\n\n\"Then swear your oath.\"\n\n\"Glornir says I am not ready. And there is no time set upon it: it could be a day or a year. Or never. Glornir will only tell me when he deems me ready,\" Varg said with a bitter twist of his lips." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Ah, and time is beating like a drum,\" Skalk said, nodding. \"Rushing by. Oaths bind us, drive us, do they not?\"\n\n\"They do,\" Varg said, a tremor in his voice.\n\n\"I could perform this akáll for you. But there would be a cost. One part of which is that I suspect you would lose your place in the Bloodsworn. I do not think Glornir is the kind of man to look favourably on acts of... impatience.\"\n\n\"It is not impatience,\" Varg said. \"It is the fulfilment of an oath.\"\n\n\"Yes, to you this is important. To Glornir,\" Skalk shrugged. \"Trust me, he will not think well on you doing this. You must recognise this, before you go any further.\"\n\nVarg nodded, blew out a slow breath.\n\n\"I acknowledge it,\" he said.\n\n\"And Glornir would most likely not look too kindly on me if I were to perform this akáll, with me knowing that it would take you from the Bloodsworn. I have to ask myself, is that something I want? Glornir and the Bloodsworn are anally to Queen Helka, and this task is important to her.\"\n\n\"It is nobody's business but ours,\" Varg said.\n\n\"That is... naive,\" Skalk said.\n\n\"I can pay,\" Varg said, his hand going to his coin pouch on his belt.\n\n\"I would want paying, of course. An akáll is no easy thing, and it takes its toll,\" Skalk said, looking at Varg and the coin pouch. He frowned. \"I do not need your coin. But there are other ways of paying: you would owe me a debt, as and when I call for it. I would require your oath. Your blood oath.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I see,\" Varg said.\n\n\"Do not answer me now,\" Skalk said. \"It is too great a thing to decide in an instant. Think on it, and perhaps we shall talk more. Yes?\"\n\nVarg nodded. The weight of his oath pressed down upon him, the need to honour and avenge his sister heavier with everyday. It gnawed at his soul. He knew Skalk was speaking wisdom, and he also disliked the thought of being indebted to this man, to anyone. But in Varg's heart he knew that he had no choice at all. He drew in a deep breath.\n\nPaused.\n\nSomething around him had changed. A tingling in the air, a silence, heavy as unforged iron. No birdsong or hum of insects. He frowned, slowing, and saw that Glornir and Vol had slowed ahead of them, Sulich catching up with the chief and Seiðr-witch. They were all walking slowly, heads turning, eyes searching the forest.\n\nA whistle came from up ahead, deep in the woodland.\n\nA warning from Edel? Varg thought.\n\nHe heard the hiss of a sword leaving its scabbard, Yrsa drawing her blade and shrugging her shield into her fist.\n\nA figure appeared out of the forest gloom: Torvik, running back to Glornir. A hushed conversation between them.\n\nGlornir held his hand in the air.\n\n\"Bloodsworn, on me,\" he called out.\n\nVarg quickened his pace and joined Sulich. The warrior had shrugged his shield from his back, his other hand resting on the hilt of the sabre at his hip. Instinctively Varg gripped his shield and slipped the leather cover from his spear blade, tucking it in his belt." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Røkia will be proud of me, he thought.\n\n\"What is it?\" Skalk said as he joined them. Olvir and Yrsa both had shields and swords in their fists, and were scanning the gloom around them. More of the Bloodsworn were joining them, jogging through the forest, shields moving from backs to fists. Ina score of heartbeats all of them were gathered, over fifty warriors forming a loose line behind Glornir.\n\n\"Show us,\" Glornir said to Torvik, and the young scout turned and led them on.\n\nThey walked in silence, Glornir at their head, his long-axe held in both hands, Vol just behind him. Skalk, Olvir and Yrsa strode behind them, and then the rest of the Bloodsworn in a loose formation, shields ready.\n\nVarg walked beside Sulich and Røkia, behind him the heavy tread of Einar Half-Troll.\n\n\"Stealth is never a possibility with you, Half-Troll,\" Varg heard Svik mutter.\n\n\"I am doing my best,\" Einar grunted.\n\nVarg looked about him, his skin prickling. The pine forest felt strange, a sickly scent seeping through the air, creeping into Varg's nose and sticking in his throat.\n\nGlornir slowed to lookup at a tree as they passed it. Varg saw it had a rune carved into it. Sap leaked down the bark and the rune was stained with something dark. Just the sight of it set Varg's hairs standing on his neck.\n\nThey moved on and Torvik led them along a path that ran through an old stream bed. Banks of earth reared either side of them, roots of trees bursting free of the soil, twisted and knotted like arthritic limbs, draped with moss and lichen." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Varg saw shadowed figures ahead, Edel standing with her two wolfhounds, a few other scouts with her. Others stood on the streambanks. They were all staring in the same direction.\n\nFear trickled into Varg like seawater into a cracked hull.\n\nTrees loomed around them, thick-trunked and grey-barked. Bodies hung from their boughs; rope was knotted about their ankles. Men and women were trussed like hogs for slaughter, arms stretched and dangling as if trying to reach the ground. They had been gutted and skinned, their flesh torn at by carrion, eye sockets dark and empty where they had been pecked clean, lips and tongues shredded. Piles of offal were heaped beneath each body, flies a swarm.\n\nVarg counted twenty-four of them.\n\nA rune had been carved into the meat of their chests.\n\nVarg felt his gut lurch and he took a step out of line, bent over and vomited onto a moss-green bank.\n\n\"How long?\" Glornir asked Edel.\n\n\"A month?\" Edel said frowning. \"It is hard to tell; the cold has preserved them.\"\n\nSome of Edel's scouts were sifting through the offal with their spears. One called out and lifted a boot, and then a seax scabbard. Another speared apiece of fabric and raised it into the air. It was pinned with a cloak-brooch that glinted gold, fashioned in the shape of eagle wings.\n\nYrsa let out a hiss. Olvir strode towards the bodies, staring at the brooch on the cloak that the scout had lifted, then up at the corpses. His face was twisted, but it wasn't fear that Varg saw there. It was grief." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You knew them,\" Vol said to Olvir. It wasn't a question. She looked at Skalk, a frown creasing her face. \"You sent them.\"\n\nGlornir looked at Skalk. Strode towards him. The Galdurman took a step away, shifting the grip on his walking staff.\n\n\"These are Helka's drengrs,\" Glornir growled. \"You said she was stretched too thinly to send any of her warriors.\"\n\nAlong moment passed as the two men stared atone another.\n\n\"I meant, anymore of her warriors,\" Skalk said with a shrug, breaking the silence. He walked around Glornir and stood beneath one of the corpses, prodding it with his staff, setting it turning. The rope binding its ankles creaked and frayed, and then the body dropped to the ground in a heap. Skalk turned it over with his staff, grunting with the effort, and squatted and stared at the rune carved on the torso. He frowned.\n\n\"Bannað jörð,\" Vol murmured as she stood over him.\n\nSkalk looked up at her.\n\n\"Forbidden ground,\" she said.\n\nI do not like this, Varg thought, wiping bile from his mouth and turning in a slow circle, his eyes trying to pierce the gloom.\n\nHe heard footsteps as Svik came to stand beside him, Røkia the other side.\n\n\"You all right?\" Svik asked him.\n\n\"No,\" Varg said. \"I'm scared.\"\n\n\"Fear is good,\" Røkia said. \"It sharpens the senses, makes you faster, stronger. It is the forge of your courage and will help you kill your enemies.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Svik frowned at her. \"It makes me want to piss my breeches and runaway,\" he said. Then he looked back at Varg. \"We all feel fear.\" He shrugged. \"But we fight anyway. And we guard each other's back. We are the Bloodsworn.\"\n\n\"Edel,\" Glornir said, \"search the bodies. Search this ground. I would know all we can of who or what it is we are hunting.\"\n\n\"Aye, chief,\" she said.\n\n\"Bloodsworn, make ready to move out,\" Glornir called out, his words setting crows flapping and squawking in the branches above them. He looked from Skalk to Vol, then at the Bloodsworn gathered behind him. \"We have not been told the full truth, that is clear, but it makes no difference. We are the Bloodsworn, and we are here. We will rid these hills of whatever is lurking here, and we will earn our coin.\"\n\nThey waited in silence as Edel and her scouts cut down the corpses, examined them and then scoured the land. Soon she was signalling away forward, into the gloom. Glornir gave Skalk one last glower as he raised his hand and then he was marching after Edel and her hounds, the Bloodsworn following. Varg looked back at the corpses piled now beneath the trees and saw Olvir standing, staring at the first who had been cut down. Skalk barked a command and the drengr followed after them.\n\nTears were rolling down Olvir's cheeks." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Orka grunted and drank a draught of mead from a horn as Lif pushed a curved bone fishhook through skin and flesh in her back.\n\n\"Sorry,\" Lif muttered as he stitched the wound Drekr had given her. He paused to pour more water over it, then snatched the horn of mead from Orka and poured some of that over the wound as well, wiping the blood away with a strip of linen. Orka stiffened, giving another huff of pain.\n\n\"Sorry,\" Lif said again.\n\n\"Just get on with it,\" Orka growled as she took the mead horn back, her voice an abrasive rasp, her throat sore and swollen from where Drekr had tried to crush her windpipe. The mead soothed the pain. A little.\n\nThey were satin a small room, a divided hayloft above a steading that looked out over a pigpen, fields of wheat and rye beyond. Mord had opened a shutter to let some light in for Lif to work by, but the stench came in with the light. Orka heard raised voices outside, and the braying of a donkey that was refusing to pull a cart of hay. She heard the crack of a whip. They were in a barn on a farm on the outskirts of Darl.\n\n\"Why are you here?\" Orka said as Lif stitched her wound. \"Why were you still in Darl? I told you to leave.\"\n\n\"Looking for you,\" Lif murmured.\n\n\"And a good thing we were,\" Mord said from the window, \"judging by the giant who was throttling the life from you when we arrived.\" He was watching the track that led to the farm, checking to see if they had been followed, and at the same time crushing some yarrow leaves in a bowl and mixing them with honey." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I had it under control,\" Orka muttered.\n\n\"Ha,\" Mord laughed. \"I would hate to see what out of control looks like to you.\"\n\n\"What were you doing?\" Lif asked. \"Apart from fighting half of Darl, or so it looked.\"\n\nOrka sucked in a deep breath. A dark mood had settled over her, seeping through her like poison in the blood.\n\n\"The giant, Drekr,\" Orka breathed. \"He killed Thorkel. Took my Breca.\" She felt a flare of rage, and of shame, as she said the words out loud, that she had been so close to him and come away without her son, or her vengeance.\n\n\"Oh,\" Lif said.\n\n\"If you don't mind me asking, what was your plan?\" Mord asked. \"When we arrived, you were surrounded by six men and women, all with sharp steel in their fists,\" He paused. \"How were you hoping to come out of that alive?\"\n\n\"There were more of them to begin with,\" Orka said.\n\n\"What, in the tavern with the smashed window?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Orka snapped.\n\n\"So, you didn't attack seven on your own? You attacked more? How many?\"\n\n\"What does it matter?\" Orka said.\n\n\"I am intrigued. You tell us to have patience. To wait until the time is right for our vengeance. But you walk into a tavern and try to attack...\"\n\n\"... twelve people,\" Orka sighed.\n\nMord just looked at her blankly.\n\n\"What was your plan again?\"\n\n\"To kill them all, save one.\"\n\n\"To kill eleven warriors?\"\n\n\"I wouldn't call them warriors,\" Orka snarled." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"All right, not drengrs, maybe, but they still looked handy in a scrap tome. And you planned on killing them all, except for one.\"\n\n\"Yes, that's right.\"\n\nMord laughed. \"How did you think you were going to walkout of there alive?\"\n\nOrka took another long sip of her mead and felt the sweet liquid spreading through her belly, into her limbs.\n\n\"Killing doesn't come easy to most people,\" Orka said. \"Even if they tell you it does. Oh, the ones that brag about it, like Guðvarr, they can kill easy enough, if someone is holding their enemy down for them. But in a fight...\" She shrugged. \"When it comes to it, most people care more about staying alive. They hesitate.\"\n\n\"And you don't?\" Mord asked.\n\n\"Killing's always come easy tome,\" Orka said. She sniffed. \"Not something I'm proud of, but there it is. And I don't hesitate.\"\n\nA silence settled over the room. Outside, pigs snorted and the wheels of a cart turned, the donkey finally deciding to move. Orka emptied her drinking horn.\n\n\"Why kill them all but one?\" Lif said into the quiet as he stitched.\n\n\"The one would tell me where my Breca is. They would see what I have done to their friends and comrades, would know what I could do to them. They would be likely to tell me the truth.\"\n\n\"See,\" Lif said, \"I told you she was a deep-cunning thinker.\"\n\n\"Doesn't sound like wolf-cunning tome,\" Mord muttered, staring out the window.\n\nNor tome, now it's had a chance to work its way around my thought-cage." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"That's done,\" Lif said, dropping his fishhook into a bowl of boiled water that was cooling now; they'd used it to sterilise the hook before stitching Orka's wound." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lif poured more water over Orka's back and Mord passed him the bowl of yarrow and honey. Lif dripped the herbs and honey onto Orka's wound and then placed a patch of linen over it, finally wrapping a longer linen bandage around Orka's shoulder and chest.\n\n\"How is that?\" Lif asked her.\n\nOrka stood and rolled her shoulder. She felt a twinge of pain, and the stitches tugged a little. She swirled mead around her mouth and spat out blood into the bowl. Put her hand to her nose and blew a clot of blood out. Her lip and nose were split and swollen from where Drekr had headbutted her.\n\n\"Good,\" Orka said. \"My thanks.\" She reached for her linen tunic, but Mord thrust another at her.\n\n\"Have mine,\" he said. \"Yours has got a hole in it.\"\n\n\"Huh,\" Orka grunted and took his tunic, shrugging it on. It was a little tight, but she could manage.\n\n\"Why were you looking for me?\" Orka asked them. \"I told you to leave Darl.\"\n\n\"That is what we planned to do,\" Lif said. \"We were buying food from traders on Darl's dockside as you advised, planning to row further north and find some land to farm, fish from the river, and make our deep-cunning plan to end Guðvarr next spring.\" He looked at Mord.\n\n\"And then we saw a ship rowing into Darl's harbour. Jarl Sigrún's drakkar, and she was stood at the prow,\" Mord said.\n\n\"You are sure it washer?\" Orka said, frowning.\n\n\"Aye,\" Lif nodded." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"She had a red-cleaved wound through her face,\" Mord added, tugging on his blond beard.\n\nOrka grunted.\n\n\"That still does not explain why you came galloping through a street on two horses and dragged me from a fight,\" Orka said.\n\n\"She is looking for all of us,\" Lif said, Mord nodding. \"That must be why she is here. So, we sold our boat and bought some horses. Thought that if we could find you and ride inland, away from the River Drammur, where they are clearly searching for us, then we might escape them.\"\n\n\"You sold your boat and came looking for me, to save me?\" Orka said slowly.\n\n\"Aye, of course,\" Lif said. \"You did not know Jarl Sigrún was in Darl. You could have just walked into her and her drengrs.\"\n\n\"At this point we did not know that you were happy to try killing entire warbands all on your own, you understand,\" Mord said.\n\n\"And Guðvarr could be with her,\" Lif added.\n\n\"We were trying to think of a plan with more deep-cunning than just walking into a tavern where we would be outnumbered twelve to one and try to put some steel in his belly,\" Mord added, a smile twitching his mouth.\n\n\"Huh,\" Orka said. \"It seemed like a good idea at the time.\" She sighed and picked at a cut on her forearm, another reminder of Drekr and his axe. She looked at her brynja. It was draped over a chair, a rent across its back, rings shattered and twisted by Drekr's axe blow.\n\n\"I need some rings and rivets,\" she said. \"And a hammer and tongs.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lif and Mord frowned at her. \"What for?\" Mord asked.\n\n\"I don't want a hole in my brynja if we are going to go back into Darl and try to kill them,\" Orka said.\n\n\"Kill who?\" Lif said.\n\n\"All of them.\"\n\nOrka stood in a shadowed alley and waited, leaning on her spear, her hood pulled up over her head. She had crept back to the room she had rented alongside a stinking canal, climbed up a wall and through an open shutter to find, to her surprise, that her spear was still there, along with the rest of her kit. Not that there had been much of it.\n\nLif stood beside her, leaning against a wattle and daub wall and peering around a corner, into the street. Rush torches burned outside a tavern door, pushing back the darkness. It was a crow-dark night, cloud blotting out the moon and stars. People walked in the street, indiscriminate shadows, red-tinged when they passed close to the torchlight.\n\n\"Get back,\" Orka growled at him and the young man stepped back into the shadows.\n\n\"He's been in there along time,\" Lif muttered. \"Too long.\"\n\nOrka ignored him.\n\nThree days had passed since Lif and Mord had carried her from the fight with Drekr, during which she had bought rings and rivets from the farmer they were lodging with, repaired her brynja, sharpened her blades, and plotted with the two brothers. A seed of doubt lurked deep in her gut about their abilities, about whether they had the skills and hardness of hearts to do what had to be done. Also, she did not want their deaths on her shoulders. She carried enough of that weight with her already. Some nights she thought she heard the voices of dead friends muttering to her and she would wake with a start, her heart thumping and sheened in sweat. Sometimes she heard Thorkel's voice, or Breca's." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And another voice whispered that Mord and Lif would slow her down, pull her away from what she had to do. That she was better off alone.\n\nBut they stayed to warn me of Sigrún, even sold their boat in an attempt to save me when they could have just rowed away and saved themselves, she thought. On the scales of honour, Orka owed them a debt. And she did not like that, either.\n\nIt is what it is. I will take one step at a time, kill one enemy at a time. They have made their choice and are in this, now. They know the path we are walking, the steel-edge of it, where life and death are closer than lovers.\n\nThe tavern door opposite her opened, and Mord came out into the street, his fair hair and beard glowing amber in the rush-light. It was the tavern that Orka had first seen the burned man in. Mord looked both ways, then walked right, taking a quick glance at the alley Orka and Lif were in, giving a curt nod even though he could not see them and then he was walking past them, on down the street.\n\nOrka waited.\n\n\"He's not coming,\" Lif whispered.\n\nOrka made a sound in her throat, like a wolf would growl at an annoying cub.\n\nThe tavern door creaked and a figure stepped out, looking both ways then focusing on Mord's back.\n\nThe burned man.\n\nHe walked after Mord.\n\nOrka and Lif watched him as he strode past the alley they were in, Orka gripping Lif's shoulder as he started to move.\n\nShe tutted at him.\n\nThe burned man walked on, fading into the shadow-filled street." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Orka let goof Lif and stepped out into the street, making sure her cloak was tight about her, hiding any glint or gleam of her brynja, and her hood was pulled to hide her face in shadow. She walked along the street, limping a little, more from the kick Drekr had given her than the axe-cut below her knee. She had washed and stitched her winnigas so there was no sign of blood and used her spear as a staff to speed her walking.\n\nPeople in the road thinned as they moved through the streets of Darl towards the canal district where Orka had found Drekr. She followed the burned man, slowly catching up with him until she could seethe shape of Mord beyond him. Mord turned into an alley, disappearing, and the burned man followed.\n\nOrka picked up her pace. Heard voices. A scuffle. She broke into a limping run and turned into the alley, gesturing at Lif to stand guard.\n\nMord was standing with his back to a wall, clutching his right arm to his chest, a seax at his feet. The burned man stood in front of him, a short axe in his fist.\n\n\"I won't be asking you again,\" the burned man said. \"Who are you?\"\n\n\"He's a friend of mine,\" Orka grunted, pulling her hood back, and the axe man spun around. His eyes flared in recognition and he swung his axe as Orka lunged, but she dipped her blade beneath his wild parry and stabbed on, her spear blade slicing his bicep. The burned man squealed in pain as his axe fell from his fingers and he stepped back, reaching clumsily with his left hand for the hilt of the seax at his belt.\n\nOrka drew back with her spear, carving a red line across his cheek, and then Mord clubbed him across the shoulders, sending him to his knees." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Orka stood over him, spun her spear and punched the butt into his jaw. He toppled into the mud like a sack. With a quickstep forward, Orka kicked the axe away.\n\n\"Pick it up,\" she grunted to Mord as she crouched and drew the seax from the burned man's belt, tossed it to Mord, then bound the unconscious man's wrists and ankles with twine. She stood and dragged his limp body deeper into the alley, Mord and Lif following.\n\n\"Wake up,\" Orka said as she sat the burned man against a wall. They were close to the far end of the alley, open ground beyond and then the ripple of the canal. Clouds parted, starlight leaking out, silvering the burned man's scarred face. His front teeth were too big for his mouth, protruding from his lips. Orka slapped him and he blinked.\n\n\"You should not have comeback. You area fool,\" the burned man said.\n\n\"A fool who has you trussed like a hog,\" Orka said.\n\n\"Drekr said you would be a pain in the arse,\" he muttered.\n\n\"Your name?\" Orka asked him.\n\nHe glowered at her.\n\n\"The axe,\" Orka said, holding her handout to Mord. He passed her the burned man's fallen weapon. Orka took it, thumbed the blade and then cut a strip of linen from the burned man's tunic. She folded and rolled it, grabbed his face and started stuffing the linen into his mouth, filling it. He struggled and twisted, strings of spittle flying from his mouth, but Orka's grip was iron.\n\nOnly when his mouth was full to bursting and he was making choking sounds did Orka stop. She showed him the axe again, and then chopped into his knee. There was a crack and a spurt of blood." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His body spasmed and he retched and gagged, thrashing and panting muffled screams, shaking and thrashing like a trapped animal. His body seemed to swell, his face twitching, and Orka saw the teeth protruding from his mouth change shape, growing longer, sharper. She grabbed his flailing arms and looked at his fingers. The nails were darkening, growing.\n\n\"What is happening to him?\" Mord hissed.\n\n\"He is Tainted,\" Orka said. \"Sometimes they cannot control the beast in their blood, especially when experiencing sudden pain or shock. He is one of Rotta's kin.\" She spat on the ground.\n\n\"Rotta, the rat?\"\n\n\"Aye, the betrayer.\"\n\n\"What shall we do?\" Mord said.\n\n\"We wait. He cannot escape. He could gnaw through his bonds, but I will smash his teeth with his own axe if he tries to do that.\"\n\nThe burned man slowed in his thrashing, breathing hard.\n\n\"Your name,\" Orka said, holding his gaze.\n\nHe glared at her, shook his head and snapped his sharp rodent teeth.\n\nOrka raised the axe and chopped into his other knee.\n\nThe burned man's eyes bulged as he hissed and gagged, flailed and floundered in his bonds, banging his head against the wall. Bloodied froth dripped from the linen in his mouth where his long teeth gnashed into his lower lip, blood dribbling down his chin.\n\nOrka waited.\n\nLif made a sound behind her.\n\n\"What?\" she said, looking up at him. \"Is anyone coming?\"\n\n\"No,\" Lif said with a quick shake of his head. He was staring at the burned man, eyes wide and his face pale." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Harden your heart,\" Orka growled at him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"He is not a man anymore. He is a steppingstone on the path to our vengeance. Tome finding my son. Now see to your task.\" She turned her back on Lif and focused back on her prisoner. He was weeping, snot hanging from his nose, but his eyes glared hate and defiance. Orka showed him the axe again, dripping with his blood, and then began to pull one of his boots off.\n\nHe convulsed, kicking and writhing, but Mord held him and Orka tugged his boot free and held his foot on the ground. She paused, looking at his pale flesh. A tattoo wound around his ankle and calf: a curled, knotted serpent. She frowned and raised the axe, then looked the burned man in the eye.\n\n\"I can do this until the sun comes up,\" she said, then looked at the sky. \"Long enough to go through your toes, your feet and up to your stones. Answer my questions, or this will only get worse.\"\n\nThe burned man was weeping. He sagged, like a sail with no wind, and nodded.\n\n\"Call for help and you lose your foot,\" Orka said and tugged the linen from his mouth.\n\n\"What is your name?\"\n\n\"Skefil,\" the burned man said, his voice shaking with pain, or fury, or shame.\n\nProbably all of them.\n\n\"Where is Drekr?\"\n\n\"He will rip your head from your shoulders,\" Skefil wheezed.\n\n\"I would like to give him the opportunity to try,\" Orka said. \"Where is he?\"\n\n\"Gone,\" Skefil muttered.\n\n\"Gone where?\" Orka said.\n\nSilence. A hate-filled gaze." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Orka raised the axe.\n\n\"North,\" Skefil blurted. Another twitch of Orka's wrist. \"To the Grimholt Pass.\"\n\n\"Why?\" Orka asked him.\n\nSkefil clamped his teeth tight.\n\nOrka swung the axe, blood and toes sprayed and Skefil sucked in a gasp of air, ready to scream. Orka pressed the axe into his mouth, the hooked blade drawing blood at the corners. Skefil froze, a tremor passing through him.\n\n\"I can make your mouth bigger, if you wish.\"\n\nAlong, slow-tremored exhalation.\n\n\"Good. Why is Drekr travelling north?\" Orka asked. She removed the axe blade a handspan.\n\nSkefil sucked in along, ragged breath, more tremors rippling through his whole body. \"He is taking more Tainted children to the Grimholt,\" he finally moaned.\n\nOrka's breath caught in her chest.\n\nWas Breca in Darl, then? Is he one of the children with Drekr?\n\n\"Was my son, Breca, with him?\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" Skefil said.\n\n\"Be careful how you answer. What is left of your life will be decided here, by your next words.\" She lifted the axe.\n\n\"I swear, I do not know. I never saw any of the bairns, only their backs as Drekr rode away. I am just eyes and ears in Darl. I watch, I listen. I tell Drekr what I learn. Drekr does not tell me anything.\"\n\nOrka let out along, deep breath as she studied him, thinking. There was terror and pain in his eyes, his defiance crushed. She believed him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Your son will change the world: that is what Drekr said tome. What did he mean?\"\n\nSkefil shrugged, \"I only know Drekr and his crew have been swiping Tainted bairns and sending them north. That's all I know, nothing else, I swear.\"\n\nOrka nodded.\n\n\"All right.\" She glanced at Mord, who was standing over them, watching against anyone passing along the canal. \"Jarl Sigrún is in Darl, you know this?\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Skefil said.\n\n\"Tell me what you know.\"\n\n\"She is searching for outlaws from her village. Someone who slew Queen Helka's Úlfhéðnar and put a scar in Sigrún's face... Ah,\" Skefil nodded, the flicker of a knowing smile. \"It was you.\"\n\n\"And us,\" Mord grunted. \"She is searching for us, too.\"\n\nSkefil gave Mord a disdainful look. \"I am no Úlfhéðnar and yet look at your arm.\"\n\n\"Where is Jarl Sigrún lodging?\" Orka pressed.\n\nSkefil shook his head and let out a wheezing laugh, drool hanging from his lip. \"You wish for death. Or are moon-touched. Jarl Sigrún is a guest of Queen Helka. She is staying in the Eagle-Hall.\" He nodded his head, gesturing to the winged fortress that loomed on the crest of the hill that Darl was built upon.\n\nOrka blew out a breath.\n\n\"One last question, and then you are free,\" Orka said. \"What was Hakon Helkasson doing in a tavern with Drekr?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Skefil shrugged. \"He is involved with the Tainted bairns, but how, I do not know.\"\n\n\"And Queen Helka does not know?\"\n\n\"That would be my guess,\" Skefil said, \"from the cloaks and hoods and shadows.\"\n\n\"Mine, too,\" Orka murmured. She looked at Skefil. \"You have been helpful. My thanks.\" And then she lifted the axe and slammed it down into Skefil's head. A crunching crack into his skull, a gasp and spasm, his tied feet drumming and then Orka was ripping the axe free, fragments of bone and brain spraying. Skefil sagged into the mud.\n\nA hiss came from Lif and Mord.\n\n\"You said he was going to be free,\" Lif breathed.\n\n\"Aye, free of this life,\" Orka grated.\n\n\"Why did you kill him, when he answered everything?\" Mord pressed.\n\n\"Because a cleaved head no longer plots,\" Orka growled." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elvar stood beside a gloss-black boulder, staring as the sun rose in the east, banishing the darkness and bringing colour to life in the world of ash and shadow. She wiped sweat from her brows, not quite believing what she could see, even though she was stood here, looking at it with her own eyes.\n\n\"So that is the vaesen pit,\" Grend said beside her.\n\nThey were stood on what felt like a cliff edge, the ground covered in thin soil and yellowed grass, here and there patches of gloss-black rock shining through. And before them a chasm opened, wide and deep, and within it a river of fire flowed, black-crusted, glowing orange, flares of white heat here and there. Hot thermals rose out of the pit, covering Elvar in a sheen of sweat. For days now, the temperature had been rising. Initially after leaving Lake Horndal and walking north it had become colder each day, and by the third day they had been travelling through snow-covered lands. Grend had woken to ice in his beard. But later that day the snow on the ground had begun to thin, even though they were trudging through a blizzard. Cold winds still blew, and snow still fell, but the ground had become warmer. Elvar had felt it through her boots. The snow and ice on the ground had just begun to melt away. And then, late yesterday, Elvar had seen patches of grass and black rock through the melting snow. Soon after, Elvar had stripped off her sealskin cloak and wolf pelt and strapped them to one of the pack ponies that already carried her helm and spear, though she still wore her mail coat and weapons belt, her shield slung across her back. Snow still fell around her, but it hissed and evaporated in the air, the ground pulsing with heat like afresh-baked loaf just taken from the oven." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Have you ever seen such a thing?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elvar breathed.\n\n\"No,\" Grend muttered. \"And then there is that.\" He pointed north, beyond the chasm that was the vaesen pit, towards a mountain, its top sheer and almost level, as if a giant had taken a huge axe to the mountain and chopped its head off. Veins of red latticed the mountainside, where streams of fire leaked from its crust like pus from festering wounds.\n\n\"Eldrafell, the fire mountain,\" Elvar said. \"Growing up in Snakavik and Snaka's skull, you become used to the wondrous. I never thought I would see something that made me feel... awe.\"\n\n\"Ha, that is a truth,\" Grend barked a laugh, which was rare for him.\n\nThe tales told that Mount Eldrafell had been broken in the fall of Snaka and that an ocean of fire had burst from its throat, spewing over the land and pouring into the vaesen pit, a huge rent in the land where the vaesen dwelled. They had fled the flames, all manner of creatures that had dwelled in the world below, clawing and climbing their way out of the pit into the world of sky and air and flesh.\n\nLights danced and flickered in the sky, silhouetting Mount Eldrafell and the horizon. They were fading with the arrival of the sun, but still bright enough for Elvar to see. There were lights of all colours and hues: amber and red and purple spiralled and swirled around blues and greens and pinks. During the brief night the whole horizon had been lit with the undulating incandescence of the guðljós, the god-light. Some said it was the souls of the gods who had fallen in battle, unable to rest, still waging their eternal war." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It is... beautiful,\" Elvar breathed.\n\n\"Heya,\" Grend agreed. He looked at Elvar. \"Following you has been...\" He paused, looking intently at her. \"Eventful.\"\n\nElvar smiled. \"Better than growing a belly and watching over a spoiled jarl's daughter in Snakavik,\" she said.\n\nGrend shrugged and pulled a face, as if he were unsure about that.\n\nElvar slapped his arm.\n\n\"You should have spoken to Gytha, while we were in Snakavik,\" Elvar said.\n\nGrend's face changed, the humour and warmth evaporating, his jaw a tight line.\n\n\"It would only have caused pain. To stir the embers of a hearth fire that cannot blaze.\"\n\n\"It could blaze,\" Elvar said. \"Gytha could join us.\" She looked at him, saw that settle into his thoughts. A ripple of hope flickered across his features followed by pain, a pinching of his eyes.\n\n\"She would not come. She made an oath to your father.\"\n\n\"You never asked her. She would do it for you.\"\n\nHe let out along, exhaled breath.\n\n\"And then I would be the cause of her oath-breaking.\" A muscle twitched in his jaw.\n\n\"You area stubborn mule,\" Elvar said. \"Life is for the living, happiness for the taking.\" An image of Biórr's face appeared in her thought-cage. It was not the first time she had thought of him during the journey into the north, since he had kissed her.\n\nGrend shook his head.\n\nFootsteps sounded behind them and Agnar joined them, Uspa and Kráka with him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It is a sight, and no denying,\" Agnar said, a grin on his face as he looked out over the vaesen pit.\n\nThe Battle-Grim had made camp on a small hillock fifty or sixty paces away from the pit's edge. They had arrived a short while ago, just before nightfall, or, more accurately, twilight, because as they approached the summer solstice the darkness of night had faded into along, extended and mist-like twilight. Uspa had strode to the brink of the vaesen pit and then prowled along its edge, the whole of the Battle-Grim following her. Elvar had been about ready to drop with exhaustion when Uspa had declared they were at the right place, and then all had set about making camp, much to Agnar's frustration. He had wanted to crossover to the other side, but Uspa had said that it was impossible, and that they would have to wait for the right time.\n\nFor today.\n\n\"We must find the bridge and move on,\" Agnar said, staring across the vaesen pit and scanning the northern horizon. Elvar stared, too, wondering where the famed bridge was. She could see no sign of it, only molten fire and smoke.\n\n\"And where is Oskutreð?\" Agnar murmured. \"It is supposed to be the greatest of all trees, its boughs holding up the sky. Surely we should be able to see it?\"\n\n\"Much was destroyed on the Guðfalla,\" Uspa said. \"Do not expect it to appear as it does in the tales.\" She pointed at a series of rolling hills to the east of Eldrafell. \"Dark-of-Moon Hills,\" she said. \"We are close.\"\n\n\"We must find the Isbrún Bridge and move on, then,\" Agnar repeated, turning and looking back, to the south. Elvar followed his gaze but could see nothing but blue skies and in the distance the white glare of sun on snow. She squinted. Was that something, on the edge of her vision? A smudge of movement on the horizon?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They had travelled north with surprisingly little opposition from vaesen, considering that the vaesen prowled the plains north of the Boneback Mountains with far more boldness than they trod the lands to the south. Fewer humankind lived on this side of the mountains, and those who did dwelled in isolated, stockaded steadings, rune-marked and defended by stout-hearted men and women. A day ago, they had come across the carcasses of an entire herd of elk in the snow, over fifty animals laying in the blood-spattered snow, strips of flesh and fur frozen and ragged among the bones.\n\nIt was difficult to tell what had killed them, as they had been visited and gnawed upon by all kind of predators and carrion-feeders, including tennúr who had stripped the skulls of all their teeth. But to trap and bring fifty elk down, that required a fearsome amount of vaesen, and not just a feat of strength, but of cunning as well.\n\n\"Have you found the elk-slayers with your keen eyes?\" Kráka asked Agnar.\n\n\"What are they? Wights, skraelings, Huldra-folk?\" Elvar asked, that familiar tremor in her gut, in her blood, where she longed to prove her worth, to earn her battle-fame. To prove her father wrong.\n\n\"Ach, it might be nothing,\" Agnar said, blinking and looking away, rubbing his eyes from the snow-glare. \"Either way, whether it is something or nothing, we need to be moving on.\"\n\n\"Today is the day,\" Uspa said, looking up at the sky. \"It is sólstöður, the beginning of the long day, when night is banished from the sky for thirty days.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Good,\" Agnar said, laughing and clapping his hands. \"Let's be on with it, then.\"\n\nElvar stood in silence, Grend one side of her, Biórr the other. The Battle-Grim were lined together on the slope of the hill they had camped upon, silent and grim in the light of the rising sun, all of them looking north at the vaesen pit and what lay beyond. One of the pack ponies stamped its feet and whickered.\n\nUspa stepped forwards and walked the twenty paces to the black granite boulder Elvar had stood beside earlier. The Seiðr-witch drew a seax at her belt and sliced it across the heel of her palm, blood welling. She made a fist, then opened her hand and touched her bloody fingertips to the black boulder, slowly pressing her palm upon it.\n\n\"Isbrú, opinberaðu þig, blóð guðanna skipar þér,\" Uspa chanted. Her blood gathered in cracks in the rock, trickling down to the ground. A tremor passed through the boulder, as if it were breathing, and then the imprint of a hand appeared, huge, dwarfing Uspa's. Elvar blinked and stared harder.\n\nNo, she thought. Not a handprint, a pawprint. Claws the length of Elvar's seax were carved into the gloss-black rock.\n\nA wolf or bear print. Is that the mark of Ulfrir, or Berser? The mark of a god? She felt aflutter of excitement and fear in the pit of her belly.\n\n\"Isbrú, opinberaðu þig, blóð guðanna skipar þér,\" Uspa called out again, stepping away from the boulder and walking towards the vaesen pit, five paces from its edge, four, three, two, until it looked as if she would step over the edge and plummet to her death." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No,\" Agnar cried out.\n\nAnd Uspa stepped over the chasm's edge into thin air.\n\nGasps and shouts came from among the Battle-Grim, Agnar stumbling forwards.\n\nUspa's foot came down on something solid.\n\nThe air before Uspa shimmered, like a heat haze, but filled with flickering colours, as if the guðljós lights that Elvar had seen shimmering in the night sky had fallen to the earth. They formed into a shape, wide and long, a writhing, twisting bridge that arced over the vaesen pit to the land beyond.\n\n\"Behold, the Isbrún Bridge,\" Uspa called out as she turned and looked back at the Battle-Grim.\n\nElvar felt a smile split her lips, excitement a tremor in her bones. The saga-tales were coming to life, and she was apart of it.\n\n\"Ha,\" Agnar shouted, punching his fist into the air and laughing, jumping on the spot.\n\n\"Battle-Grim, there lies the bridge to Oskutreð. The last feet to tread upon it belonged to the gods,\" Agnar cried out, grinning at them all, and a cheer rang out from them, feet stamping, spear butts thumping on the ground, Elvar joining her voice with theirs.\n\nA sensation in Elvar's feet, a vibration through her boots. She frowned, looked down and saw that the ground of the slope she was standing upon was shuddering, a tremor in the grass, the soil vibrating. Her weight shifted and she stepped back, frowning.\n\nSomething moved in the earth where she had been standing. A shape appeared, like a handful of pale, pink wyrms, glistening and writhing." }, { "from": "human", "value": "No, not wyrms." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Fingers. Or claws.\n\nA hand thrust out of the ground, small as a child's, but the fingers were long, thin and sharp, then another hand reached out, a face appearing, fragile and sharp-featured: a narrow line of a nose and chin, hairless with large, dark eyes. It hauled itself out of the ground, standing as tall as her knee. Ink-dark veins threaded pale-pink skin, wings on its back shaking, a cloud of soil in the air. It looked up at Elvar and opened its mouth wide, revealing two rows of teeth, the outer one sharp, the inner row flat, like grindstones, and it hissed at her.\n\nA tennúr!\n\nAll along the slope the ground was trembling and shifting, more of the small creatures appearing. Thirty, forty, fifty of them, more than Elvar could count, and more still clawing their way from the ground. It was as if the hillock they had camped upon were some huge nest. Their wings snapped out behind them, soil spraying in small clouds, and they were leaping into the air, hurling themselves at the Battle-Grim. Shouts of shock and warning rippled along the line of warriors. Elvar staggered away as the tennúr that had emerged at her feet flew at her, claws reaching, jaws gaping wide. She fumbled for her sword, trying to shrug her shield off her back and into her fist. Sharp claws raked her face and she cried out, her sword half out of its scabbard. The tennúr's claws hooked into her cheeks and it pulled itself onto her, jaws gaping wide, its teeth far too close.\n\nElvar shook her head, her sword clearing her scabbard, then she stumbled and fell backwards. The tennúr still clung to her; its jaws lunged forwards." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A shower of blood and bone exploded over Elvar's face, the tennúr abruptly gone, Grend standing over her with his axe. Elvar lay on the ground, staring up at him, then there was movement beneath her and small hands were clawing out of the ground to reach around one leg, more movement around her arm. She thrashed and heaved but could not pull herself free. Grend's axe rose and fell, rose and fell, tennúr screeching, more blood like a mist in the air and Elvar was free, lurching to her feet, Grend chopping at another tennúr in the air as it flitted down upon Elvar, wings buzzing. She realised that Grend had two tennúr clawing their way up his legs, claws raking bloody grooves through his breeches, and that he was ignoring them to defend her. She stabbed one through the back and skewered it. The creature shrieked and flailed, letting goof Grend's leg, and she threw it spinning from her blade to slam into another tennúr in the air, both of them crashing to the ground.\n\nMore tennúr were on Grend, one hanging onto his back, jaws opening wide and crunching down on his shoulder, the sound of mail grating on teeth. Elvar stabbed it through one eye and it fell away, loose-limbed.\n\nElvar had her shield in her fist, now, and she punched the boss into a tennúr as it flew at her, sending it spiralling away. Grend grunted, more tennúr swarming around him. Blood flowed from wounds on his legs, claw marks on his neck and chin, and sheeted down his face from a wound on his scalp. Elvar stabbed and chopped at the creatures upon him, a red-blood harvest. When he was clear they moved back to back, shields raised, sword and axe slashing and stabbing against the swirling blizzard of wings and teeth and claws, guarding each other. Elvar wished she had not left her spear and helm strapped to one of the pack ponies." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Agnar was bellowing, battle-cries or orders, Elvar was not quite sure. She glimpsed warriors around her running to him, their shields slamming together, forming a small circle, spears and swords stabbing out. The shield wall began to move towards the Isbrún Bridge. A horse screamed, reared and collapsed, swamped with tennúr. A woman on the ground, Sólín, Elvar thought, was rolling in the heaving grass and soil, fighting a trio of tennúr as they tried to prise her jaws apart and rip her teeth from her gums.\n\nWe need to move, to join Agnar's shield wall.\n\nThere was a grunt from Grend, and Elvar felt his weight shift from her back, falling away. She turned and saw a tennúr perched on Grend's shoulder, a gloss-black stone in its hands, red and dripping. Grend lay sprawled upon the ground, the black hair on the back of his head matted with blood, the tennúr dragging at his head, trying to get long-clawed fingers into his mouth.\n\nGrend, the only constant in her life, the man who had given her his oath and never broken it, the man who had sacrificed everything to protect her.\n\nElvar screamed, fury and fear mingled, and chopped at the tennúr with the rock, sending its head spinning through the air. She stepped over Grend's motionless body, shield raised, sword stabbing and hacking as tennúr tried to fall upon him.\n\nShe was the only one standing on the slope. Agnar and his shield wall were halfway to the bridge, and further away Sighvat, Kráka, Huld and the Hundur-thrall were dragging the surviving ponies in a half-circle away from the hillock and the swarming tennúr." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "As the writer's narrative assistant, advance the story.\nTags: fantasy, norse mythology, dragons\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: The Shadow of the Gods\nChapter: 40" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Agnar was bellowing, battle-cries or orders, Elvar was not quite sure. She glimpsed warriors around her running to him, their shields slamming together, forming a small circle, spears and swords stabbing out. The shield wall began to move towards the Isbrún Bridge. A horse screamed, reared and collapsed, swamped with tennúr. A woman on the ground, Sólín, Elvar thought, was rolling in the heaving grass and soil, fighting a trio of tennúr as they tried to prise her jaws apart and rip her teeth from her gums.\n\nWe need to move, to join Agnar's shield wall.\n\nThere was a grunt from Grend, and Elvar felt his weight shift from her back, falling away. She turned and saw a tennúr perched on Grend's shoulder, a gloss-black stone in its hands, red and dripping. Grend lay sprawled upon the ground, the black hair on the back of his head matted with blood, the tennúr dragging at his head, trying to get long-clawed fingers into his mouth.\n\nGrend, the only constant in her life, the man who had given her his oath and never broken it, the man who had sacrificed everything to protect her.\n\nElvar screamed, fury and fear mingled, and chopped at the tennúr with the rock, sending its head spinning through the air. She stepped over Grend's motionless body, shield raised, sword stabbing and hacking as tennúr tried to fall upon him.\n\nShe was the only one standing on the slope. Agnar and his shield wall were halfway to the bridge, and further away Sighvat, Kráka, Huld and the Hundur-thrall were dragging the surviving ponies in a half-circle away from the hillock and the swarming tennúr." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A spark of fear rose in her belly at being left with these vermin. To have her teeth and eyes ripped out. To be so close to Oskutreð and to fail.\n\n\"AGNAR!\" Elvar bellowed, and she saw the shield wall ripple to a halt in its passage towards the bridge. She glimpsed Agnar's face looking over a shield rim at her. And then he was shouting, the words lost in the din of shrieking tennúr, but the shield wall started to move back towards her. She felt a flare of hope in her belly.\n\nMany of the tennúr saw the shield wall moving too, and flew into a frenzy, more and more of them hurling themselves at Elvar until she could see nothing but wings and teeth and claws. She felt blows raking her, hot fire as claws scratched rents in her flesh, her mail grating, her sword and shield red and battered, arms leaden, muscles burning. Weakness seeped through her body.\n\nFrom blood loss, dimly she realised, knowing that she could not stay on her feet much longer.\n\nAnd then tennúr were shrieking and wailing, falling around her, wings and arms limp. A figure appeared through the curtain of wings and bodies, a man, wielding a spear with Berserkir speed, stabbing and slicing in great arcs. A gap opened among the tennúr and Elvar saw him: Biórr, his lips drawn back in a snarl, as he waded through the flying creatures, using his spear and shield to carve and force his way into the maelstrom of vaesen. He saw Elvar and grinned, then looked down at Grend.\n\nThe sight of Biórr gave Elvar a burst of new strength and she raised her shield, stabbed and hacked and slashed. Biórr reached her and they stood over Grend and fought until a gap opened around them, the tennúr retreating, hovering, staring at Elvar with malice and hunger in their eyes. Biórr used the respite to throw his shield across his back and squat, pulling Grend up with a grunt and heaving the big man onto his shoulders, then he stood." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The tennúr swarmed back upon them, but Elvar raised her shield and forged a path through them, shielding Biórr and Grend as best she could. She tripped over something, managed to stay on her feet and saw a bloodied corpse on the ground, unrecognisable as tennúr shredded its flesh, fighting over teeth as they were ripped from a lacerated mouth. Shouts and yells filtered through to her, and then the boiling storm of vaesen were thinning and she saw shields, a wall of them marching towards her. She broke into more open ground as she left the slope, the land levelling, tennúr still buzzing around her, but glimpses of the sky among them. She saw Sólín rolling on the ground, trying to hold a tennúr with one hand, her seax in her other fist, stabbing at the creature. Elvar swerved and sliced, hacking into the tennúr's shoulder. It squeaked and fell away. Elvar grabbed Sólín's wrist and hauled the grey-haired warrior to her feet. Agnar's voice bellowed and she saw his face among the shield wall. A gap opened in the shields, Elvar pushing Sólín on, through the gap and falling back to cover Biórr. After a few more heartbeats Biórr stumbled and staggered into the Battle-Grim, Grend across his shoulders, Elvar behind him. Shields snapped tight, protecting them, and then the shield wall was moving, away from the hillock and towards the Isbrún Bridge.\n\nElvar heard a buzzing above her, a sharp pain in her ear and scalp, as a tennúr fell upon her head, fingers clawing into her and entwining in her braided hair. Agnar grabbed the creature by the throat, its jaws snapping, and ripped it off Elvar, throwing it to the ground where it was stamped and trampled upon. The shield wall moved on, the buzz of tennúr falling away, and Elvar shoved her way to Biórr's side, her hand going to Grend's throat, checking fora pulse." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She sighed with relief as she found it, slow and rhythmic.\n\n\"My thanks,\" she said, squeezing Biórr's arm. He gave a half-smile, grunting under the weight of Grend.\n\nElvar glanced back over her shoulder as the shield wall continued its march and saw a cloud of the vaesen hovering and whirling above the hillock, clusters of them on the ground where they crawled and buzzed thick as ants over what must be corpses: one pony and a handful of warriors.\n\nAnd then the ground changed beneath Elvar's feet, from grass and soil to something solid as rock. Elvar looked down and saw that she was upon the Isbrún Bridge. Agnar hissed a breath in and the shield wall opened up, warriors stuttering to a stop and staring.\n\nThe bridge was wide enough for fifty warriors to walk abreast, and made of ice, thick and solid, a crunch and crackle under Elvar's feet, like walking on frost-touched grass. Light shimmered within the ice, captured and fractured from the molten river that Elvar could see through the bridge, bubbling far below.\n\nHow does the ice not melt?\n\n\"This is not the place to stop,\" Uspa called out, standing at the arch of the bridge. Behind her lay land that had not been seen or trodden upon by humankind for three hundred years.\n\n\"Ha, the Seiðr-witch speaks truth,\" Agnar called out. \"Onwards,\" he bellowed, \"to Oskutreð.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Varg sat with his back to a tree and chewed on a strip of hard mutton. His jaw was aching and he was certain it would be easier to chew through the leather sole of his turn-shoes. It was late in the night, or at least Varg thought it was. Sólstöður had begun, the month of day, where night was banished for thirty days. It was not full light, twilight hovering in the air like motes of dust, their camp set in a small glade among pinewoods. Faintly Varg could seethe line of the moon, pale in a pale sky. But his body told him it was night and he pulled his cloak tighter about him.\n\nHe sat alone. Torvik was on guard duty, as were Svik and Røkia, all of them scattered through the woodland. Glornir sat with Vol, his long-axe cradled on his lap as he ran a whetstone along its edge. Einar Half-Troll was sitting with Sulich, grumbling about the hole in his belly that needed filling. Sulich was shaving the stubble from his head with his seax.\n\n\"A hot meal is all I can think of,\" Einar muttered.\n\n\"No fire,\" Glornir said through the scrape and rasp of his whetstone, not raising his eyes from his axe blade.\n\nThey all knew the rule by now, and the sense of it, but chewing on strips of cold hard mutton did not help to ease the absence of hot food.\n\nSkalk sat nearby, Olvir and Yrsa beside him. The two warriors spoke in hushed voices, a strain etched upon Olvir's face that had not left him since they had found the mutilated bodies hanging in the pine trees. Skalk's head was bowed, his face a shadow. Varg still felt unsettled by those bodies and had dreamed of them each night since then, skinned carcasses swaying, ropes creaking. He thought of his conversation with Skalk before they had found the bodies, of how Skalk could perform an akáll, if Varg were prepared to leave the Bloodsworn and swear an oath to the Galdurman. Without thinking his hand strayed to the pouch on his belt and he thought of Frøya, his dead sister, murdered. He did not know where her body was or who had killed her. It gnawed at his soul like a rat chewing marrow from a bone." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Footsteps sounded, and Torvik appeared through the trees, saw Varg and strode to him, smiling as he sat beside him.\n\nVarg offered him a strip of mutton.\n\n\"What is it you have in that pouch?\" Torvik asked him, taking the mutton.\n\nVarg pulled his hand away as if he'd been caught stealing.\n\n\"You protect it like it was filled with gold,\" Torvik said. The young man shrugged. \"It is your business, but if I can help you, I would.\"\n\nVarg blew out along, tremulous breath. Then he reached back to the pouch, unhooked it and put his hand in, pulling out a lock of black hair.\n\n\"It is my sister's,\" Varg said. \"I need it for the akáll which will show me who murdered her.\"\n\nTorvik nodded. \"I will help you,\" he said.\n\n\"Help with what?\" Varg asked him, frowning.\n\n\"When Glornir grants you the akáll,\" Torvik said, \"I will help you hunt your sister's killers. Edel tells me I have a good nose, that I will make a decent huntsman. I will help you find your sister's murderers, and help you kill them.\"\n\nVarg just stared at Torvik. He opened his mouth to say something but found there was a pressure in his chest and a lump in his throat that words could not squeeze past. All his life he had been alone, Frøya his only companion, his only friend, the only one he had ever trusted. Ashe sat and stared at Torvik he knew that this lad before him meant what he said.\n\nIf Glornir ever deems me worthy, a voice in his thought-cage said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Whether Glornir grants the akáll or not, that does not change what Torvik has just offered, he answered that voice.\n\nHe looked away and swiped a tear from his eye.\n\n\"My... thanks,\" Varg muttered.\n\nIt will be hard to leave these people. Torvik, Svik, Einar, even Røkia, he thought. I have grown to... like them. But after talking to Skalk he knew what he should do, for Frøya, to fulfil his oath.\n\nTorvik shrugged and smiled.\n\n\"Bannað jörð,\" a voice called out and Varg turned to see that it was Skalk who had spoken. The Galdurman had raised his head and was staring at Vol. \"Forbidden ground,\" Skalk said. \"That was the rune carved into the corpses of my drengrs.\"\n\n\"It was,\" Vol agreed.\n\n\"What does it mean?\" Skalk asked her.\n\nVol frowned. \"A warning, to stay away,\" she said, then shrugged. \"I don't know.\"\n\n\"It sounds like some gods-tainted warning tome,\" Skalk said. \"I am a Galdurman, have studied the rune lore and Galdur-law all my life, have travelled all Vigrið and beyond, and bent the knee at a score of Galdur towers, and that was a rune I have never seen before. And yet you knew what it said. It is part of your Tainted Seiðr filth, yes?\"\n\nGlornir raised his eyes from sharpening his whetstone and fixed Skalk with a hard look.\n\n\"Do not threaten me,\" Skalk said with a wave of his hand. \"I am no child or thrall to be cowed with a look or a reputation.\" His gaze shifted to Einar, whose brows were knotted like a thunderhead. \"You want afire for your porridge, Half-Troll?\" Skalk said. He held his handout. \"Eldur,\" he breathed, and a spark ignited in his palm, a solitary flame crackling into existence." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Varg felt a chill slither through his veins." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He had never seen Galdur-magic, and now that he had, he felt that he did not like it much. He could feel the power radiating from Skalk in waves, like heat from afire.\n\nGlornir looked from Skalk to the flame crackling in his hand.\n\n\"Put it out,\" he said.\n\n\"No fires,\" Einar muttered.\n\nSkalk closed his hand into a fist, the flame stuttering and dying.\n\n\"Is this sacred ground, to you Tainted?\" Skalk asked, eyes moving back to Vol.\n\nShe shrugged. \"We are walking across Snaka's bones. I can feel them even now, like a song in the ground, deep beneath us. He made us, made the world; of course this is sacred ground. But that is no reason to string and gut a warband of drengrs.\"\n\nVarg saw Olvir shift, his mouth twisting.\n\n\"But the rune did not say sacred. It said forbidden,\" Vol said.\n\n\"Sometimes the two walk hand in hand,\" Skalk mused. \"Then why is this forbidden ground?\" Skalk asked again.\n\n\"I do not know,\" Vol said.\n\n\"No doubt we shall find that out, when we find whatever did that to your warriors,\" Glornir said.\n\nA silence settled between them.\n\n\"What is the difference between a Galdurman and a Seiðr-witch?\" Varg asked into that silence. The thought had formed in his thought-cage and he had not realised he asked it out loud.\n\nSkalk turned his gaze onto Varg, staring at him as if he had just uttered the greatest insult.\n\n\"I have worked on a farm my whole life,\" Varg said with a shrug. \"Magic is magic tome, regardless of who performs it.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Galdur-magic is taught by the wise, by scholars, to the worthy. Years of learning, of truth-seeking. It is honour and skill and patience. But Seiðr-magic, it is a pollution in the Tainted's blood. A glimmer of old Snaka in their veins, the bloated god. It is not earned, like my power.\" Skalk shook his head. \"There is no honour in it, no skill. It is just in them.\"\n\n\"And why is that so bad?\" Varg said.\n\nYrsa snorted, giving a twist of her lips, and Skalk just stared, speechless for long moments. He sat up straighter. \"The gods almost destroyed this earth,\" he said, as if speaking to a child. \"Almost destroyed us, mankind. And their offspring are no better. They fought in that war too.\"\n\n\"So did humankind,\" Sulich said, not breaking the scrape of his seax across his head.\n\n\"They were forced, little different than thralls,\" Skalk said. \"But the Tainted, they chose to fight, wanted to fight, just as their cursed parents did.\" He stared at Vol as he spoke. \"Cursed blood flows in them. That is why when mankind rose from the ashes of the Guðfalla they swore to hunt out any of the gods who survived the gods-fall, and to hunt out their seed, their mingling with humankind. It was only when Ulfrir's chain was found that we began to thrall the Tainted, rather than execute them.\"\n\n\"Ulfrir's chain?\" Varg asked. Tales had been told at Kolskegg's farm, round the fire pit and food table, but from an early age he and Frøya had learned it was best to keep apart from the others. He only knew some of the tales." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Ulfrir the wolf-god was chained on the last day,\" Yrsa said. \"A rune-wrought chain, filled with Seiðr-magic by Lik-Rifa, the dragon, Ulfrir's sister. It bound him tight and cast him down, and then Lik-Rifa's followers swarmed upon him and slew him with many wounds.\"\n\n\"Aye, I have heard that tale,\" Varg said.\n\n\"And when Snaka was slain and fell, he broke the world,\" Yrsa said. \"The chain was broken, links and shards hurled in a thousand different directions.\"\n\n\"That is right,\" Skalk agreed, taking up the tale again. \"And many years later, as humankind began to spread through the world again, we found some of those links, buried in the ground, half-submerged in rivers or fjords, and we used Galdur-magic to break them down, to mix them with iron and forge the thrall-collars. Wherever they were found, that is where the first fortresses grew. Darl, Snakavik, Svelgarth in the east. That thrall-collar around Vol's neck, there is a remnant of Ulfrir's chain forged into it. That is how she is controlled. The same with Queen Helka's Úlfhéðnar, and with Jarl Störr's Berserkir. And the Galdur-tongue is used to command them. Glornir will have been taught the words of power when he bought that collar.\"\n\n\"This is true.\" Glornir nodded his agreement.\n\n\"I have always thought it a strange thing, to judge a manor woman by their parentage,\" Sulich said, stopping the shaving of his head and sheathing his seax. \"Far better to judge them on their deeds, to my mind.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Skalk's eyes snapped from Vol to Sulich.\n\n\"A strange thing for an escaped murderer to say,\" Skalk said. \"Am Ito judge you on your deeds?\"\n\nSulich looked at him, stood and strode towards Skalk.\n\n\"I am no murderer,\" he said, his voice cold and hard.\n\nOlvir and Yrsa stood, their hands hovering over their sword hilts.\n\n\"That is not what Prince Jaromir said,\" Skalk answered, still sitting, calm and relaxed.\n\nSulich stood a few paces from him, Olvir and Yrsa ready.\n\n\"I am no murderer,\" he repeated.\n\nSkalk shrugged. \"A matter we shall resolve, when this is done and we are back in Darl.\"\n\n\"Sulich,\" Glornir said. \"Sit down.\"\n\nThe shaven-haired warrior turned and looked at Glornir, then strode back to Einar.\n\nVarg felt the hairs on his arms prickling. He knew that violence had been a hair's breadth away.\n\nThey heard the sound of footsteps in the trees and all of them looked, hands reaching for weapons, an expression of the tension bubbling within the camp.\n\nSvik walked out of the woods and stopped.\n\n\"What?\" he said, looking around." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Orka walked along a dirt track, leading her horse by the reins, a solidly built skewbald gelding called Trúr. Mord and Lif walked either side of her with their own mounts, Mord with his injured arm bound from the wound Skefil had given him. Blood seeped into a linen bandage and he held the arm close to his body. The sun was climbing into the sky, the fresh chill of dawn still lingering. Wisps of mist curled upon the stream they were following, the fortress and town of Darl behind them.\n\nThey were travelling back to the farm they were lodging at, which lay nestled in the curl of a valley up ahead.\n\n\"What now, then?\" Lif asked Orka. He had been mostly silent since the questioning and killing of Skefil.\n\n\"We think,\" Orka said. \"About our choices, what is possible, what is not, and then we come up with a deep-cunning plan that will put sharp steel into Guðvarr and Jarl Sigrún, and see your father avenged.\"\n\nIn truth all that Orka wanted to do was pack some provisions in a bag, leave Mord and Lif behind and ride north after Drekr. But she owed these brothers a blood-debt and that was weighing on her soul. She knew that she should help them achieve their vengeance, especially while Drekr was no longer in Darl to kill but Guðvarr and Jarl Sigrún were, so it made sense in her thought-cage to put them in the ground first, before she went in pursuit of Drekr.\n\nBut the thought of Breca was like a splinter in her heart. His face haunted her; his voice whispered in her ear. Her son: taken, scared, hurt. It set a wolf snarling in her blood." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"What is wrong?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Mord asked her.\n\n\"What?\" Orka said.\n\n\"You were growling, and your face was twitching.\"\n\nOrka blew out along breath.\n\nI will find you, Breca, I swear it, she thought. Every moment away from him clawed at her.\n\nBut I owe these two brothers.\n\nAs long as we can do it soon. I must be away from here soon.\n\n\"We must kill Guðvarr and Sigrún, and quickly,\" Orka said.\n\n\"Aye, I know that part,\" Lif said. \"It is the how that I am wondering about.\"\n\nOrka looked back over her shoulder. Darl lay behind them, the fortress silhouetted on the hill with the great eagle-wings spread wide, catching the risen sun and blazing golden, the River Drammur coiling about the town's feet like a sleeping serpent. Meadows and rolling hills lay between the fortress and the farm they were staying upon, the meadows filled with fields of ripening barley and the hills dotted with herds of goats and sheep.\n\nAfter throwing Skefil's corpse into the canal they had used what was left of the night to scout out the Eagle-fortress. It was frustratingly well guarded, with plentiful drengrs on the gates and patrolling the high timber walls that ringed Queen Helka's mead hall. They had also made their way to the docks and looked at Jarl Sigrún's drakkar, which was guarded by a handful of Sigrún's drengrs, but also under the protection of the harbour officials and their guards. An attack on Jarl Sigrún when she returned to her drakkar looked as unlikely to be successful as trying to infiltrate the fortress." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I am thinking the best path will be to lure Guðvarr and Jarl Sigrún out of the fortress, rather than try and sneak into it,\" Orka said.\n\n\"And how would we do that?\"\n\n\"When you want to catch a wolf or a fox, you bait a trap,\" Orka said.\n\n\"Bait? What bait?\" Lif said.\n\n\"Me,\" Orka shrugged. \"I slew Vafri, Helka's Úlfhéðnar thrall that she gifted to Sigrún, and I slew Sigrún's lover and left a scar on her face, so it is me that Sigrún and Helka most want to see in the ground. Anger blinds some people, makes them more likely to make mistakes. To rush. So, we find a busy place. You and Mord hidden in the press of a crowd. I sow some chaos and Jarl Sigrún and Guðvarr come to take their vengeance on me. That will be when you put steel in Guðvarr's belly, but first whisper a word in his ear, so he knows who his killer is, and why he's dying.\" She shrugged. \"Then you slip away into the crowd.\"\n\n\"I like it,\" Mord said, nodding. \"Let's do it.\" He had been surly since taking the wound from Skefil, his pride hurt, Orka thought. He had been keen to assault Helka's fortress, though he probably couldn't even climb the walls with his injured arm.\n\nPride and shame, she thought. Both enemies of along life. He needs some ice in his blood, to see more clearly.\n\n\"Sounds like there are many ways for that plan to go wrong,\" Lif said. \"Like, how will you getaway?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"All plans go wrong,\" Orka said with a shrug. \"And when this one does, we will improvise.\"\n\n\"No hesitation,\" Mord said, looking at Orka.\n\n\"Exactly,\" Orka grunted.\n\nThey walked on, turning a corner in the dirt track and passing around a spur of land, the farm appearing in a valley below. The longhouse was built alongside a narrow river, barns and paddocks around it, afield of barley beyond. A gentle breeze lifted the blended smell of smoke, barley and pig-shite up out of the vale. The sound of geese squawking rose on the breeze.\n\nOrka frowned, felt a tingling in her blood.\n\nShe stopped.\n\nMord and Lif carried on a few paces, their horses' hooves a rhythmic thud on the ground. They realised Orka had stopped and slowed to a standstill.\n\n\"What is it?\" Lif said.\n\n\"Come on, my belly needs filling,\" Mord grumbled.\n\nOrka frowned, sniffing.\n\nThey were a few hundred paces from the farm, and at a glance all seemed well. But Orka's skin prickled. The donkey wasn't braying, as he seemed to do from dawn until dusk, and there was no smoke rising from the green-turfed roof of the longhouse's smoke hole.\n\n\"Get on your horses,\" Orka said, slipping afoot into an iron stirrup and swinging herself up into her saddle, her spear gripped in one fist. She shifted her weight, settling onto Trúr's back. The horse whickered.\n\n\"Why?\" Mord frowned.\n\n\"The plan has already gone wrong,\" Orka muttered." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Figures appeared in the farm courtyard: mounted figures. Lots of them. Ten, twelve, fifteen, more still hidden. The glint of weapons and brynjas. One of them rode to the farm's entrance, drew his sword and pointed at Orka and the brothers.\n\n\"It's Guðvarr,\" Lif said.\n\n\"Stay and fight, or flee and fight another day?\" Orka asked them. Her blood was thrumming, the imminence of violence calling to her, dancing in her veins. But a distant part of her thought-cage whispered that the numbers were too great, that Mord and Lif would likely die. Part of her didn't care.\n\n\"Over a score of them,\" Lif said.\n\n\"Sigrún's drengrs, and some of Helka's, too,\" Orka said, seeing the glint of gold eagle-wings on cloak brooches. She looked at Mord and Lif and saw the gleam of vengeance bright in their eyes as they stared at Guðvarr, but also the hesitation that hovers like raven's wings over impending battle, when the possibility of death looks you in the eye. Fear can be ice or fire in the veins, freezing the body or setting ablaze within it.\n\nGuðvarr had started to ride up the track towards them, Orka able to see his dripping, pointed nose, and close behind him rode Arild, the drengr who always seemed to accompany Guðvarr. She wore a brynja that gleamed in the sun, whereas Orka had only seen her in wool and leather before. The warriors that followed behind them were also clothed in mail with iron helms, all drengrs with sword skill and weapons craft.\n\nOrka looked back to Mord and Lif, still standing, holding their horses by their reins, just staring. They wore wool and leather, armed with seaxes and axes, Mord with a fishing spear, no helms. And they were hesitating." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Orka made the decision for them.\n\n\"We ride,\" she said, dragging on her reins and touching Trúr's ribs with her heels. She saw Lif clamber into his saddle and Mord lingered a moment, his face twitching, then he was heaving himself onto his horse's back with a grimace of pain at his injured arm and the three of them were riding away, back along the track they'd been travelling on.\n\nThe sound of hooves came behind them, like rumbling thunder, and Guðvarr's squeaking voice. Orka rounded the spur that hid the farm from view, her gelding moving at a fast canter, Mord and Lif catching her up. Ahead Darl reared, the river massed with a forest of masts. Soon the farm track joined a road with a few people upon it: carts pulled by oxen, other travellers.\n\nGoing back to Darl is not a good idea. It would be like riding into the wolf's jaws, with Helka's drengrs before us and Guðvarr and his crew behind us.\n\nA crossroad loomed ahead, straight onto Darl, south to the river, north to...\n\nThe Boneback Mountains.\n\nThey reared in the distance like jagged teeth, a gap in their profile marking where the Grimholt Pass lay.\n\nOrka pulled on her reins and nudged with her leg and Trúr turned, heading north. Mord shouted after Orka, but the wind dragged the words away and Orka ignored them, seeing that he and his brother followed her. There were more shouts behind them as Guðvarr cleared the spur of land and saw them. He was only two hundred paces behind now, screeching and kicking his horse into a lathered gallop. Drengrs swarmed behind him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Orka lifted her weight in her saddle and kicked Trúr on. He was a strong, big-boned gelding, built more for the plough or battle rather than speed, but he had a big heart and Orka could feel the joy in him at the gallop. Trúr's stride opened up and it felt to Orka like she was flying, wind whipping tears from her eyes as they sped across rolling meadows of heather and gorse.\n\nThis is what it must have felt like to be one of Orna's daughters, Orka thought, to fly and rule the skies, and she whooped with the joy of it. They rode on, the terrain changing about them as they moved away from the River Drammur. A gap widened between them and Guðvarr's crew, four hundred paces, five hundred, the drengrs riding more carefully than Orka and the two brothers. The land rose, hills swelling around them, covered in fern and heather and patches of woodland, dissected by a myriad of streams. The path narrowed, slopes rising, and Orka heard the sound of rushing water. Then a wooden bridge was before them, narrow, crossing over a ravine. Orka pulled on her reins, shifting her position, and Trúr slowed, moving from a gallop to a canter. She heard the thunder of hooves on timber as she crossed the bridge, Mord and Lif slowing, taking the bridge one at a time.\n\nOrka looked down and saw steep-sided slopes and a white-foaming river perhaps forty or fifty paces below her. She reached the far side of the bridge and dragged on her reins, leaped from her saddle and ran to a lightning-blasted hawthorn tree. She swept her axe into her fist and chopped at wood, dry-splintering as branches snapped." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Mord and Lif reached the far side of the bridge and reined their horses in, Lif calling to Orka, Mord staring back over his shoulder. Hooves thundered, the sound of Guðvarr and his drengrs far closer than Orka wanted them to be.\n\nOrka swept the splintered branches up into her arms, ran back to the bridge and threw them down on the timber, then crouched and took her tinder and kindling from a pouch on her belt, her striking iron. Sparks leaped, the kindling hissing into flame among the dry branches. Fire crackled, flames clawing, and the hawthorn branches burst into fire, the timber of the bridge beginning to blacken and smoke. Orka stood, looking between the new-kindled flames and the far side of the bridge. Guðvarr appeared around a bend in the slope. He saw Orka and the others and spurred his mount on. It was sweat-soaked and salt-streaked, foam flying from its mouth. Guðvarr yelled a victory cry, grinning as he looked at Orka, Mord and Lif. Then he saw the flames. They were spreading now, along the timber walkway and up the posts and rails. Black clouds of smoke billowed, obscuring Guðvarr and the drengrs from view. Hooves thudded on timber as Guðvarr attempted to cross, but timber creaked, weakened by the flames, followed by a splintering, cracking sound, and Guðvarr retreated. He sat on his horse and hurled insults across the bridge at them. A spear hissed from one of his drengrs, and it thumped into the ground close to Lif's mount.\n\n\"Take it,\" Orka told Lif as she climbed back into her saddle, leaned and patted her gelding's neck, then clicked him on." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That's bought us sometime,\" Orka said, looking east and west along the ravine as Mord and Lif rode up alongside her, Lif holding his new spear. The ravine curled into the distance, meaning Guðvarr and his drengrs would have to travel some distance to find another crossing point, and then travel back hereto pickup their trail.\n\n\"Will they give up?\" Lif asked.\n\n\"I hope not,\" Orka said.\n\nBehind them, from beyond the flames and smoke they heard a frustrated, furious screech.\n\n\"Why not?\" Lif asked.\n\n\"Because I want Guðvarr to follow us, so that you can kill him,\" she said.\n\n\"I like it,\" Mord said, a smile spreading across his face. He frowned. \"Follow us where?\"\n\n\"North, to chase my vengeance, as your vengeance chases us,\" she said, a cold smile touching her lips. \"We are riding there. To the Boneback Mountains; to the Grimholt Pass.\"\n\nTo find Drekr and my son." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Varg crawled up a slope of patchy, frost-hard grass and thin soil, the Bloodsworn all about him. Ahead Edel, Torvik and her scouts were all crouched behind a rock. Edel was whispering to Glornir as they peered over the slope's rim. The sun hovered over the peaks of the Boneback Mountains, but its touch had not yet reached the valley they were crawling through, shadows clinging to the valley floor, thick as mist.\n\nThe slope's rim was close and Varg shuffled fora space as the Bloodsworn spread along it, all looking down into the valley beyond. Crawling up a slope like a lizard was not so easy to do with a shield on your back, a weapons belt about your waist and a spear in your fist. Einar Half-Troll took up more space than a boulder on the slope's rim, but he looked back and beckoned to Varg, glowering at another Bloodsworn who was about to fill the space at Einar's right. Varg scrambled up the remaining distance and settled beside Einar, who smiled at Varg and put a big finger to his lips. Einar had seemed to take a liking to him, ever since the oar-dance and Varg's apology. He had even offered to share his loaf of bread at their last meal. Varg had gratefully accepted: anything was better than leather-hard mutton.\n\nA valley opened up, steep-sloped, running north to south, with what looked like a well-used track cutting away to the east. A waterfall filled the northern edge of the valley, cascading down from a cliff face that Varg had to twist his head to see. A permanent cloud of mist swirled and churned at the waterfall's foot, a pool spreading wide and breaking off into a handful of channels." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Three days had passed since Edel had found the corpses hanging from the trees, and with every step Varg had felt amounting tension. There had been a war going on in his thought-cage about whether to talk to Skalk again about the conduction of an akáll, or whether he should wait for Glornir's approval. Seeing Skalk's conjuring of fire in his fist had only added to his confusion. It was only a single flame, but to Varg it had chilled his blood. But as they had travelled deeper into the Boneback Mountains that conflict had faded in his mind, overwhelmed by a growing sensation: a trembling in his blood. It was almost as if he could smell or sense a growing danger, like drawing closer to a rotting corpse.\n\nThe valley's floor was in twilight shadow, but as Varg lay there the sun rose higher and light slid down the slopes like liquid gold, and the darkness retreated before it. The streams in the valley burst into glittering, blinding light. Varg heard Edel speaking in hushed tones to Glornir and Vol. Edel's two wolfhounds were crouched, ears pricked forwards. One was growling. Edel pointed.\n\nVarg saw movement: a figure appearing deep in the valley close to the waterfall. Even from this height Varg could tell that it was big. Muscled and antlered, with thick tusks jutting from its lower jaw, it emerged from a stand of pine trees and walked to the pool.\n\n\"What is that?\" Varg hissed.\n\n\"Troll,\" Einar said in his rumbling whisper.\n\nThe troll stopped at the pool's edge and looked around, scanning the valley's sides. It seemed to sniff the air and Varg felt a moment of fear, that they would be seen or that somehow this creature would pickup their scent. Then it was looking back to the pine trees and gesturing. Aline of people emerged from the treeline, smaller than the troll. They were humans, and Varg saw the glint of sunlight on iron, chains about their necks and ankles, binding them to each other. Maybe thirty or forty people filed out from the trees to the pool, all with buckets in their hands. More figures appeared, a few manlike in shape, with spears in their hands, the glint of sunlight on mail. Others were clearly not human: thick-muscled and elongated, crouched and stooped, walking upright but bent over, using knuckles on unnaturally long arms. Weapons hung from baldrics slung across their shoulders." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Skraelings, before you ask,\" Svik said from Varg's other side.\n\nThe thralls kneeled at the poolside and filled their buckets, and then the troll was making a snorting, barking sound and they were standing and moving back towards the treeline. Ina dozen heartbeats they were gone, the troll, warriors and skraelings all following after, and a moment later the valley was empty, as if they had never been there.\n\nEchoed commands rippled along the line of Bloodsworn, Glornir summoning his captains, and Svik scrambled away, keeping his head below the ridgeline and across the slope to Glornir. Røkia went, as well, along with Sulich. Glornir spoke to them, gestured into the valley a dozen times, and then Svik was scrambling back. Torvik came with him.\n\n\"Half-Troll, No-Sense, Hammer-Hand, you're with me,\" Svik said, \"and you, Halja Flat-Nose, and you, Vali Horse-Breath,\" he said to a woman and man, sister and brother, both of them quiet and stern-faced. And then Svik was scuttling along the slope below the ridgeline, moving south towards a stand of pine that crested the slope. Varg looked at the others, Torvik grinning at him, and then they were all moving, following Svik. The rest of the Bloodsworn were breaking up into smaller groups, each one led by one of Glornir's captains, and accompanied by one of Edel's scouts. Varg glimpsed Skalk and his two guards staying close to Glornir, and then Svik was leading them into the stand of pine that crowned the edge and over the other side. The slope was steep and soon they had to break from the cover of the trees. Torvik took the lead, choosing a winding path down the slope, using boulders and bushes for cover. Soil and stone shifted beneath Varg's feet, but he was sure-footed and kept up easily with Torvik. Einar slipped once, his huge bulk starting a small landslide of soil, but Svik steadied him and then the ground was levelling, and they were on the valley floor." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Torvik allowed them a moment to gather and then he was moving on, across the valley floor, splashing through a shallow stream and then up the far bank, into the cover of more pine woodland. They veered north, following the line of the valley, towards the waterfall. The din of its cascading waters grew, until Varg could seethe shimmer of salmon-scales in the pool. They were close enough now to see a path through the trees that the troll and thralls had taken. Torvik turned eastward and led them higher up the valley slope, shadowing the path, always keeping it in view. They moved silently and as fast as wolves, the ground thick with pine needles that soaked up the sound of their footfall. Varg thought he saw the flitting shadows of movement on the far side of the path, shadows among the trees. He picked up his pace and drew level with Torvik, touched his shoulder and pointed.\n\n\"They're Bloodsworn,\" Torvik whispered after a frozen moment of silence, and then they were moving on.\n\nVarg became aware of a change around him, almost like a vibration in the air, in the ground. He looked down; he half expected to seethe carpet of pine needles they were crossing to be shaking, but all was still. It grew as they moved on, a pressure all around, like a gathering storm, a tingling in his blood.\n\nTorvik stopped, held a fist up and they gathered around him.\n\nThe path they were following spilled into an open glade, the ground trampled to mud, a cliff face at its far end. There was an arched entrance in the cliff, tall and wide, the flicker of torchlight within it like pinpricks. People were walking in and out of the entrance, their bodies skeletal, clothes ragged, a constant stream of thralls in iron collars leading ponies harnessed to carts, and the carts were full of rubble. They filed north out of the tunnel entrance and led the ponies and carts to the far edge of the glade, where there was a newly made mountain of boulders and rubble. Here they unloaded their carts and then led them back into the tunnel entrance, swallowed by the darkness as if they were walking willingly into a sleeping serpent's mouth." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Torvik pointed at different spots in the glade, and Varg saw other figures: warriors with spears, and a few of the skraelings. Varg did not like the look of them, clothed in thick tunics like a warrior, with weapons on their belts, though they looked crude and heavy, but their arms were long and knotted with striated muscle, their necks thick, and even from this distance something seemed... wrong, with their faces.\n\nI have lived on a farm my whole life, he thought. The worst I have seen of vaesen is a mischievous fetch who cursed the milk one yuletide, and a knot of newly hatched serpents in the river, and they were not much bigger than eels.\n\nThe troll was nowhere to be seen, though the cave entrance was more than large enough for him to have entered the tunnel.\n\n\"Good job, lad,\" Svik said to Torvik, patting his shoulder. \"I'll take things from here.\" He stabbed his spear butt into the ground and ran his fingers through his red beard, pulling out knots, and twirled his moustaches and began braiding them.\n\n\"What are you doing?\" Varg whispered.\n\n\"Getting ready,\" Svik said.\n\n\"For what?\" Varg said.\n\n\"The signal. There's going to be a scrap, of course. Blood will be spilled, and I want to look my best for battle. It's important.\" He looked Varg up and down. \"I suggest you make yourself ready.\" Svik grinned. \"Time for us to earn our silver and battle-fame.\"\n\nHe finished tidying his beard, then unbuckled his helm from his belt and tugged it onto his head, shrugged his shield from his back, settled his hand into the grip and let it hang at his side, before pulling his spear out of the soft earth." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Around him the others were all doing the same, Halja and Vali setting their shields against a tree, buckling on helms, taking leather covers from spearheads, checking the draw of seax and sword from their scabbards. When they were satisfied, they gripped their shields and stood beside Svik. Jökul Hammer-Hand squatted, scooping up a handful of pine needles and soil, rubbed it between his palms and let it filter through his fingers. Then he stood, pulled his helm on tight and slipped a hammer from a hoop in his belt, the black-iron head pitted and stained, the haft longer than a normal hammer's, more like an axe. He shrugged his shield from his back and stood, his brows heavy and dour, glowering down at the skraelings in the glade.\n\nEinar's shield was as big as a table. He pulled it from his back and hefted it, then drew an axe from his belt, the blade hooked and bearded.\n\nTorvik loosened his seax in its scabbard and lifted his shield from his back. Stood with shield and spear ready.\n\nVarg blinked and realised he should be doing the same. He unbuckled his helm from his belt and pulled it over the nålbinding cap he was wearing, tugged the buckle tight under his chin. Next he checked the draw of his seax, axe and cleaver, all of them hanging on his weapons belt, letting them slip back into place. Then he took the leather cover from his spear blade, threading it through his belt, and finally he shrugged his shield from his back and gripped the wooden handle, his fist and knuckles fitting into the space of the iron boss.\n\nHe looked up, feeling his heart beating hard in his chest, and saw Svik looking at him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Brothers, sisters, are we ready?\" Svik said to them, all humour gone from him. \"Remember, we are Bloodsworn, bound to one another. Stand or fall, we are sworn to each other. That is our strength.\"\n\nNods, grunts.\n\nSvik looked at Varg and Torvik. \"Well, not you two, but if you survive this...\" He shrugged and grinned.\n\nThat's comforting, Varg thought. He felt the strong urge to empty his bladder.\n\n\"With me,\" Svik said, and led them through the trees, down the slope and closer to the glade and cave entrance. He stopped before the trees thinned, still on the slope, maybe forty or fifty paces to level ground and the muddy glade. Svik rested his shield on the ground and kneeled behind it, all the others settling around him, except for Einar, who stayed standing. They all wore brynjas, except for Varg and Torvik. Jökul wore a pitted leather apron over his coat of mail.\n\nVarg looked into the glade over his shield rim. The thrumming in his blood was stronger here, pulsing in his bones like the beat of a drum. And at the same time, fear slithered through his belly, turning his legs weak, making his mouth dry. He was looking at vaesen and warriors, all with sharp iron or steel on their belts or in their fists. And he was going to fight them.\n\nHe swallowed, no spit in his mouth, wanted to stand and move, a voice in his thought-cage whispering to him.\n\nJust walkaway. How can you fulfil your oath to Frøya if you are dead? Who are these people to you? You should wait until battle is joined, and then just slip away." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Instead he just stood there, waiting for death's wings to settle over the glade.\n\nThere was a movement at the edge of the glade, and Glornir stepped out into the sunlight.\n\n\"Move,\" Svik said, his voice a growl, rising and striding down the rest of the slope. They all followed, Einar and Jökul moving to the wings, Torvik, Halja and Vali immediately behind Svik. Varg stood, hovered a moment, hefted his shield and then he was following them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elvar undid knots in the walrus-rope that she had used to strap Grend to the back of an empty cart, her fingers numb and swollen. She swore and cursed as she struggled with a knot, eventually tugging it free.\n\n\"When you're ready, girl,\" Sighvat grunted and together they slipped Grend from the cart's back, Elvar taking the weight of Grend's ankles and Sighvat gripping the unconscious warrior under the shoulders. Together they placed him upon a woollen cloak that Elvar had laid on the ground, and Elvar checked his wounds.\n\nAfter they had crossed the Isbrún Bridge they had stopped to tend to injuries and take a tally of the wounded and their losses. One wagon and two ponies had been lost, loaded with bundled spears and an assortment of barrels of ale and of horsemeat and whey. Three of the Battle-Grim had fallen on the hillock to the tennúr swarm.\n\nAlmost everyone was injured, from a few scratches to gaping wounds torn by the vaesen's claws. All had needed to clean their wounds with boiled water and vinegar; some were stitched, and poultices of yarrow and honey were applied, draped in moss and wrapped in linen bandages. Agnar had ordered afire to be lit as some wounds had needed to be cauterised.\n\n\"My thanks, Sighvat,\" Elvar said as she kneeled beside Grend. The big man stood and looked at Grend, then patted her shoulder, almost sending her sprawling, and walked away.\n\nFresh blood had seeped into the bandage around Grend's head. He was scratched and gouged across his legs and face, but the worst injury was the blow to the back of his head that a tennúr had dealt him with a lump of black rock. Uspa had come to Elvar's aid when they had stopped after crossing the bridge. Elvar had been trying to clean the wound and examine how bad it was. Tears had been blurring her eyes. The Seiðr-witch cutaway Grend's blood-matted hair with a sharp knife, then helped Elvar wash the area clean. All the while Elvar had felt as if a fist of fear was clenched in her belly, twisting her innards and making her movements too quick and jolting. The feeling intensified as Uspa probed Grend's skull with her fingertips." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"His skull is not broken,\" Uspa had pronounced, after what felt like a lifetime.\n\nElvar had sagged with relief.\n\nUspa helped her to finish cleaning the wound, then to apply a poultice of herbs and moss and bind it with a bandage.\n\n\"When he wakes up, he will need to drink some peppermint and valerian,\" Uspa had said as she'd left to tend the wounds of other injured Battle-Grim.\n\nGrend had remained unconscious through the whole process, and so when Agnar had shouted for all to make ready and move out, Grend had been strapped within an empty cart.\n\nThen they had moved out, Uspa leading them into an untouched world. Elvar was not sure how long they'd been marching through this land, the perpetual daylight playing tricks in her thought-cage, but she guessed it was about half a day.\n\n\"How is he?\" a voice said behind her and Elvar looked up to see Agnar. His face and the side of his shaved head was raked with claw marks. They were not too deep and were clotting now. He kneeled down beside her, offering a plate of pickled herring and fried cabbage, and a pot of skyr.\n\n\"He hasn't woken,\" Elvar said as she untied the linen bandage from around Grend's head and checked the wound. The poultice was still in place.\n\nAgnar leaned forward, close to Grend, and sniffed.\n\n\"Doesn't smell bad,\" he said, \"which is always a good sign.\" He patted Elvar's arm. \"He'll wake when his body is ready.\"\n\nElvar sniffed and blinked away a tear that threatened to spill out of her eye." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"We are the Battle-Grim,\" Agnar said quietly." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Our life is blood and battle. None of us are likely to die old and grey in our beds.\" His words were gentle, and Elvar knew the truth of them, but she struggled to keep a sob from forcing its way out of her throat.\n\n\"I know that,\" she murmured, speaking slowly to keep her voice steady. \"I have travelled and fought with the Battle-Grim for years now, and seen death's wings hover over us a thousand times. I know that the raven-wings do not care who they take, do not distinguish between rich or poor, kind or cruel. But always Grend has been at my side or guarding my back. He has never been injured once, not even a scratch, so to see him like this, so fragile...\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Agnar nodded. \"Death is our constant companion, a whisper in our ear, but when you see a friend fall...\" He shook his head. \"Nothing prepares us for it, even though we've waded through a river of the dead.\"\n\nHe looked at her. \"That is why we fight so hard for each other. We do not abandon the living. We do not abandon those we have sworn oaths to.\"\n\n\"You were coming back for me,\" Elvar said, \"when Grend fell and I stood over him, I thought that our death was upon us.\"\n\n\"Aye, I was coming back,\" Agnar said, \"but someone beat me to it.\" He smiled. \"We cannot choose our kin, but us...\" He waved a hand at the warriors around him, going about the task of setting camp and tending to the wounded and horses. \"These are my kin, closer than blood. My sword-brothers, my shield-sisters. I would give my life for them, and I think they would give their lives for me.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"We would,\" Elvar said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I would.\"\n\nAgnar grinned at that and nodded his head.\n\nThey satin silence awhile as Elvar continued to check all of Grend's bandages and wounds.\n\n\"You have never spoken of your kin,\" Elvar eventually said.\n\nAgnar stared into nowhere, the silence stretching so that Elvar thought he was not going to answer her. Then he sighed.\n\n\"There is nothing to tell. My mother died of the wasting disease when I was ten winters old. My father sold meas a thrall when I was eleven, because the crops had blighted, and he needed food for the winter.\" A twist of his mouth, part grimace, part smile. \"Or he tried to sell me. I put a wood-axe between the eyes of the slaver trying to buy me and ran.\" He laughed, though there was little humour in it. \"Iran along time, until I forged anew family around me; one that I can trust.\"\n\nHe squeezed her hand, then stood up.\n\n\"Are we moving out, soon?\"\n\n\"No. We will rest, lick our wounds, sleep.\" He looked up at the sky, bright with sunlight, a few thin clouds translucent as silk. \"No point waiting for dark in this perpetual day. We will march when we are rested, stop when we are tired.\" He looked down at Grend.\n\n\"He will wake soon,\" he said, and walked away.\n\nElvar sat beside Grend and ate the pickled herring and cabbage that Agnar had brought her. There was still heat in the ground, not as hot as the camp beside the Isbrún Bridge, but they had made half a day's march from the molten river of the vaesen pit and were now camped alongside a stream, on the edge of woodland and hills. Alder grew close as well as birch and elm." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Dark-of-Moon Hills, Elvar thought as she stared at them. I have heard of them sung about by skálds in my father's mead hall. Never did I think I would be looking at them, one sleep away from walking among them. Despite the fatigue in her bones and her distress over Grend, she felt that familiar flicker of excitement. To walk in the land of the gods...\n\nThere was a groan and Grend stirred. Elvar jumped and kneeled over him, stroking his scratched face. His eyelids fluttered open, stared at her, unfocused. Then he saw her.\n\n\"Following you into the Battle-Plain,\" he breathed, \"may not have been the wisest of decisions.\"\n\n\"Wise? Of course it wasn't wise,\" Elvar said, her jaw aching from her sudden smile, tears spilling down her cheeks, dropping onto Grend's face. She stroked his forehead. \"I feared...\" she whispered.\n\n\"Feared what?\" Grend mumbled.\n\n\"A life without you in it,\" Elvar said.\n\nA smile softened Grend's hard-cragged face. He reached out a hand and cupped Elvar's cheek, strikingly gentle for this man of violence.\n\n\"Ha, it will take more than a few winged rats to rid yourself of me,\" he said as his hand fell away.\n\n\"Good,\" Elvar laughed.\n\n\"Thirsty,\" Grend muttered.\n\nElvar unstoppered her water bottle and held his head up to pour a few sips into his mouth.\n\n\"I'll be up in a moment,\" Grend whispered, then closed his eyes and went to sleep.\n\nElvar leaned against him, smiling and eating her supper." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She heard footsteps as a warrior strode towards her. It was Sólín, two horns of ale in her hands. The grey-haired woman sat beside Elvar and offered her one of the horns.\n\n\"I owe you a blood-debt,\" Sólín lisped, spit spraying from her mouth.\n\n\"Are you well?\" Elvar asked as she put her bowl of skyr down and took the horn.\n\n\"Thothe little vaethen bathterds took thum of my teeth,\" Sólín lisped, opening her mouth to show red, bloody gums, three of her front teeth torn out.\n\n\"A nasty business,\" Elvar said.\n\n\"I am alive,\" Sólín said with a shrug. \"Bether to looth a few teeth than my life. And for that I have you to thank.\"\n\n\"We are shield-sisters,\" Elvar said. \"There is nothing to thank. You would have done the same for me.\"\n\n\"I would, I hope,\" Sólín said, \"though you do not know until you are in the battle-fray. That ith the time of telling, when a warrioth heart and boneth are truly known.\" She looked at Elvar, a swirl of tattoos across one cheek and brow, and offered her arm in the warrior grip. \"I thaw your warrior heart, your battle-thtrength, and am proud to call you thithter.\"\n\nElvar took Sólín's arm with a grin.\n\nThey sat and drank their ale together.\n\nLaughter drew Elvar's eye, and she saw Biórr with Uspa, Kráka and the Hundur-thrall. He walked away from them, to the iron food pot hanging over the hearth fire." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Would you watch Grend for me?\" Elvar said as she drained her mead horn. \"I have some thanks of my own that needs saying.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Sólín said.\n\nElvar stood and walked through the camp, and saw that Biórr had left the food pot and was walking away. She followed him, weaving through the camp, pasta dug-out pit fire and warriors sitting and talking. Sighvat was humming to himself. She raised a hand to their calls and shook her head at their invitations to sit and drink with them, and she walked onto the far edge of camp that ran along the stream's edge. Here the wagons were drawn tightly together, and the surviving ponies had been unharnessed and picketed.\n\nBiórr was handing bowls of food to Uspa, Kráka and the Hundur-thrall, all four of them laughing at some unheard jest. He sat down and began to eat with them. They looked up at Elvar as she stood over them.\n\n\"I wanted to thank you,\" Elvar said, the words abruptly evaporating, her mouth dry.\n\n\"Well, goon, then,\" Biórr said with a smile.\n\n\"My thanks,\" Elvar said. \"You saved my life, and Grend's. We would be food for tennúr now, if you had not comeback for us.\"\n\n\"Heya, you would,\" Uspa agreed.\n\n\"The tennúr would be making a fine feast of your young, white teeth by now,\" Kráka said, and they all laughed and cackled.\n\nShe stood there a few moments, the laughter fading, and a silence settled.\n\n\"You are welcome, Elvar Fire-Fist,\" Biórr said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Why did you do it?\" Elvar asked him. \"Break ranks from the shield wall? Risk your life for me?\"\n\nHe smiled at her. \"You have to ask?\" he said.\n\nElvar reached down and gripped his hand, pulled him upright and dragged him close, kissed him, soft and long, tasting sour skyr on his breath. When they parted, Biórr was blinking at her, his cheeks flushed, and she could feel her heart thumping in her chest. She turned, still holding his wrist, and led him along the streambank, away from the camp. Kráka's cackling laughter drifted after them. An old willow squatted ahead of them, branches a curtain that floated on the stream and loamy ground. Elvar pushed away through the branches, into a hidden space around the trunk where the ground was moss-covered and soft, then turned and looked at Biórr. He stood there, gazing back at her. She brushed a strand of dark hair from his face where it had fallen from his braid, traced the line of his freckled cheek, then her hand slipped behind his neck and she dragged him to her and kissed him again. Harder than before. Slowly she pulled him to the ground." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Varg followed Svik and the others down the tree-shadowed slope. The ground levelled as he caught up with them. He could hear his heart pounding in his head, beating time like a drum, and everything around seemed to become brighter, sharper, louder. He saw Glornir striding down the centre of the glade, his eyes dark pools in his socketed helm, his long-axe held across his body. Edel was with him, her wolfhounds either side of her, and a handful of other Bloodsworn. Skalk, Olvir and Yrsa were behind them, hovering at the treeline. All around the glade other groups of the Bloodsworn emerged, each one led by one of Glornir's captains: Røkia, Sulich and Vol.\n\nThe thralls in the glade were staring open-mouthed, the warriors there shouting, some frozen, staring, others moving together. The skraelings were unnaturally still, heads twitching like predatory birds as they looked at the various groups of the Bloodsworn emerging from the trees. As Varg drew closer to them he saw they bore the rough features of a manor woman, with small dark eyes, mouth and nose, but they were uneven, like a melted candle, and small tusks grew from their lower jaws.\n\nA woman in mail raised a horn to her lips and blew it, long and loud.\n\nThe thralls screamed, many of them breaking away from their carts and running in all directions, chains clinking.\n\nOne of the skraelings drew a short, wide-bladed weapon from its belt, looking like something between a sword and a cleaver, and hacked at a thrall. She gave a scream as she collapsed, blood spurting from a gaping wound between her shoulder and neck. Others tried to steer the fleeing thralls back into the tunnel, grouping together, facing out at the Bloodsworn." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It looked like the glade had burst into madness.\n\n\"On me,\" Svik grunted, and Varg shuffled to Svik's left, the group forming a loose line, shields raised but not locked together. Mud sucked at Varg's shoes. All of the Bloodsworn were moving into the glade, a net drawing tight upon the tunnel entrance. They outnumbered their enemy, maybe a score of warriors milling in the glade, and tenor twelve of the skraelings.\n\nSpears hissed, hurled by warriors among the Bloodsworn. There were screams as warriors fell, blood spurting. One of the skraelings let out an inhuman screech and staggered, pierced through the torso. It plucked at the spear, blood blooming around the wound, soaking into its hide tunic. It gripped the shaft with along-fingered fist and ripped the spear free; looked at the Bloodsworn and opened its jaws wide, shrieking.\n\nThey are hard to kill.\n\n\"WALL!\" the woman who had blown the horn yelled, the warriors about her drawing tight, shields rising together.\n\nThe warriors moved into a curved line, shields coming together with a snap as the last of the thralls disappeared. The skraelings erupted into motion, charging at the Bloodsworn. Two came at Svik's group.\n\n\"SHIELDS!\" Svik yelled.\n\nVarg shuffled tight to Svik as Røkia had taught him, shoulders touching, and their shields came together with a crack, Varg's overlapping Svik's, the rim tight to Svik's iron boss. Torvik was on Varg's left and his shield did the same, the seven of them forming a solid wall of linden wood andiron. The two skraelings were charging at them, screeching and grunting in inhuman voices, faster than Varg would have thought possible, moving in a loping, four-limbed run with their knuckled fists." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Keep the narrative going for the author.\nTags: fantasy, norse mythology, dragons\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: The Shadow of the Gods\nChapter: 45" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It looked like the glade had burst into madness.\n\n\"On me,\" Svik grunted, and Varg shuffled to Svik's left, the group forming a loose line, shields raised but not locked together. Mud sucked at Varg's shoes. All of the Bloodsworn were moving into the glade, a net drawing tight upon the tunnel entrance. They outnumbered their enemy, maybe a score of warriors milling in the glade, and tenor twelve of the skraelings.\n\nSpears hissed, hurled by warriors among the Bloodsworn. There were screams as warriors fell, blood spurting. One of the skraelings let out an inhuman screech and staggered, pierced through the torso. It plucked at the spear, blood blooming around the wound, soaking into its hide tunic. It gripped the shaft with along-fingered fist and ripped the spear free; looked at the Bloodsworn and opened its jaws wide, shrieking.\n\nThey are hard to kill.\n\n\"WALL!\" the woman who had blown the horn yelled, the warriors about her drawing tight, shields rising together.\n\nThe warriors moved into a curved line, shields coming together with a snap as the last of the thralls disappeared. The skraelings erupted into motion, charging at the Bloodsworn. Two came at Svik's group.\n\n\"SHIELDS!\" Svik yelled.\n\nVarg shuffled tight to Svik as Røkia had taught him, shoulders touching, and their shields came together with a crack, Varg's overlapping Svik's, the rim tight to Svik's iron boss. Torvik was on Varg's left and his shield did the same, the seven of them forming a solid wall of linden wood andiron. The two skraelings were charging at them, screeching and grunting in inhuman voices, faster than Varg would have thought possible, moving in a loping, four-limbed run with their knuckled fists." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Ready,\" Svik yelled and he set his feet, his left arm and shoulder braced into his shield." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Varg did the same, looking over the rim, holding his spear high in a reverse grip.\n\nThe first skraeling slammed into their small shield wall, Svik, Halja and Vali taking the brunt of it. The full weight of the skraeling crashed into them with a dull thud and the shields rippled and bucked, soaking up and spreading the force of the impact. The skraeling fell backwards, rebounding from the shields to fall sprawling into the mud. Spears stabbed downwards.\n\nAnd then the second skraeling was upon them, crashing into Varg and Torvik. There was an ear-shattering crack, an explosive pain in Varg's shoulder and he was weightless, flying through the air. He crashed to the ground, all the air driven from his lungs, and he rolled, tangled in his shield and losing his spear. He came to a halt, flopping in the mud and gasping for breath, pushed himself onto hands and knees.\n\nTorvik was yelling, thrown twenty paces away from Varg but scrambling back to his feet and brandishing his spear. The skraeling was stood between them, crouched, snarling, saliva dripping from its tusks. It reached to its belt and drew a thick-bladed weapon, shorter than a sword but longer than a seax, and wide as a cleaver. It hissed at them both, head snapping between Torvik and Varg like a hawk, and then it was leaping at Torvik, emitting a high-pitched screech.\n\nA spark of rage bloomed in Varg's belly, pure and white-hot, like when he was in the pugil-ring and had been floored, like when Einar had knocked him down. An instinctive response to losing. Most people would not get backup." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The red mist, Frøya had called it. Whatever it was, it surged through Varg now, flooding his veins, his body, his mind. The pain in his shoulder evaporated. He pushed himself upright and ran at the skraeling, snarling incoherent threats.\n\nTorvik took a blow from the skraeling's weapon on his shield, wood splintering, and stumbled back a few steps. He stabbed outwith his spear and scored a red line across the skraeling's shoulder, but it shrugged it off, screeched again and swung its blade. Torvik brought his shield around and the skraeling's blade crunched into it with an explosion of splinters.\n\nVarg ploughed into the skraeling's back, the creature grunting, and both of them crashed to the ground. The skraeling bucked and twisted beneath Varg, who slammed the boss of his shield into its head and shoulder. Long arms flailed and punched him in the head and he fell away, then he saw the skraeling stumble upright, blood sheeting one side of its melted face, and raise its weapon.\n\nVarg tried to rise and slipped in the mud.\n\nThe skraeling loomed over him.\n\nA spear point burst through its belly and it screamed, arching its back, Torvik's snarling face behind it. The skraeling grabbed the spear and wrenched it through its own body, turning on Torvik, who stared at it, open-mouthed.\n\nThere was a tremor in the ground, a shadow, and an axe hacked into the skraeling, opening it up from shoulder to ribs. An explosion of blood and bone. It collapsed with a gurgled sigh.\n\nEinar stood over them, put his boot on the dead skraeling and ripped his axe free." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"On your feet,\" he said to Varg.\n\n\"Take my hand, brother,\" Torvik said and pulled Varg up, both of them breathing hard, eyes wild and faces blood-spattered.\n\nThe din of battle was overwhelming. Varg saw Svik and the others were pressing forwards against a shield wall of warriors, six or seven strong, shields clashing, steel stabbing. Elsewhere Glornir was stood swinging his axe two-handed, a skraeling falling away in a spray of blood. Røkia was yelling a battle-cry and leading her band of Bloodsworn as they broke through another shield wall of mail-clad warriors, Røkia thrusting her spear into a man's belly. Everywhere was death, the air thick with the iron tang of blood and faeces. And everywhere the Bloodsworn went, their enemies looked to befalling.\n\n\"Not the time fora rest,\" Einar grunted at them as he strode towards Svik.\n\nVarg shared a look with Torvik, who grinned at him, and then they were following Einar, Varg hefting his shield and drawing his seax, the two of them rejoining Svik's line and pushing into the wall of shields. Varg locked his shield with Vali's, Torvik moving to the far end of the line.\n\nThere were seven warriors facing them, men and women spitting and shoving, snarling and stabbing from behind their wall of shields. Varg dipped his shoulder and put his weight behind his shield and shoved, glimpsing a blond beard and the glint of a spearhead. He jerked his head to the side, felt the iron blade grate against his helmet, magnified and deafening inside the helm, and stabbed his seax low, under his shield rim, felt the blade bite, heard a grunt and the pressure on his shield lessened. He pulled his seax back, blood-slick, and shoved forwards, stabbed high and it grated across the riveted rings of a brynja." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A shouted command rang out and the warriors they were facing took a step back. Varg's limbs heavy, muscles burning, sweat dripping in his eyes.\n\nThis shield work is harder than about of fists between the hazel rods.\n\n\"AT THEM,\" Svik yelled and he took a step forward, closing the gap, the rest of the line following. Beside Varg, Vali hissed like an enraged serpent at their enemies, his face twisted in snarling fury. He had left his spear in the body of a skraeling and was wielding a bearded axe. Hooking the blade over the shield rim opposite him he tugged, the warrior holding the shield stumbling forwards a step. It was a man, dark-haired with a wrong-set broken nose and spitting insults at Vali. Jökul slammed his hammer onto the warrior's helm, putting a fist-sized dent into it. The distinct sound of bone cracking could be heard and the man collapsed.\n\nSvik stepped over the fallen man's body, stabbing down with his spear, and pushed into the gap in their wall of shields, Vali, Halja and Jökul close behind and the enemy shield wall split apart like a cracked egg. One fought on, Einar making short work of him, and the others broke and ran.\n\nVarg stood there, blinking, exhaustion and fury fighting within him, still feeling the anger pulsing through him like cold fire, like a distant drumbeat, his body twitching with the need to fight.\n\nA bellowing, louder than a tree falling, echoed out from the tunnel entrance and filled the glade. Varg winced with the noise of it.\n\nA shape lumbered from the tunnel, almost as tall and wide as the entrance: the troll they had seen at the waterfall. Varg had not realised how big it was. Tall as two men, wide as three, it thundered into the clearing, mud squelching and flying between its thick-clawed toes. It was naked and muscled as a bull, its hide scaled, patches of moss upon it, testicles swinging like two boulders between its legs. It gripped an iron-banded club in its fists. Yellowed tusks jutted from its lower jaw and small, pinprick eyes glared out from beneath thick-slabbed brows." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Figures moved behind it: a dozen warriors led by a grey-haired man in an oil-dark brynja. He wore an iron helm with a mail neck-guard, his grey beard bound into a thick braid and a dark cloak billowing out behind him like wings. Arm rings of silver and gold were thick upon him. He had no shield, but held in his hands along, two-handed curved sword. Not a sword of iron or steel, it was yellowed with veins of grey, like old bone. And it seemed to shimmer in the man's hands, waves of power rippling out from it like a heat haze. The tingling in Varg's blood grew, louder and wilder, calling to him, giving him life and energy and at the same time suppressing and squeezing him, as if he had dived deep into a mountain pool and the weight of water above was crushing him.\n\nThe man strode to stand in front of the troll, a dozen warriors spread behind him, all mailed with sharp steel in their fists. He raised the bone sword over his head. Red eyes flickered like embers within the shadows of his helm as he glowered at the Bloodsworn.\n\n\"You should not have come here,\" he said, and marched forwards.\n\nGlornir stepped out to meet him, Bloodsworn spreading wide behind their chief.\n\nThe troll bellowed and lumbered forwards.\n\nSpears hissed through the air, Bloodsworn hurling them at the troll. Some pierced its thick hide, blood welling; others skittered away. The troll roared, swiping at the spears, snapping shafts.\n\nGlornir swung his long-axe around his head and aimed a great, looping blow at the red-eyed man, who stepped forwards to meet Glornir, the bone sword slicing down. The weapons connected and there was a concussive crash, Glornir hurled through the air. The red-eyed man paused a moment, then strode after him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Svik yelled a war cry and ran at the red-eyed man, his whole crew following: Halja and Vali, Einar, Jökul and Torvik. Varg stood there a moment, battling with the pulsing waves of pain that emanated from the bone sword, and then he was running, too.\n\nThere were little more than forty paces between Svik and Glornir, who was back on his feet, shaking his head, blood running from his nose. He still gripped his long-axe, and he stood and faced the red-eyed man, hefted the axe. The stranger strode at him, the bone sword rising.\n\nSvik screamed, Varg and the others echoing him, other Bloodsworn running. Varg heard Røkia shout a war cry and glimpsed her hurling her spear at the red-eyed man. It was a powerful throw and it flew true and fast, straight at the old man's chest.\n\nHe cut the spear from the air with his bone sword, the two halves falling splintered at his feet.\n\nSvik and his crew sped across the mud and blood-spattered glade.\n\nA shadow loomed over them, a roar, and Vali was abruptly gone, flying through the air in an explosion of blood. Halja screamed. The troll lurched in front of them, filling Varg's vision, cutting Glornir from sight, his iron-banded club swinging at Svik. The red-haired warrior leaped forwards into a diving roll, passing beneath the pendulous arc of the club and back onto his feet, mud-spattered, still running, and hurled his spear at the troll, drawing his sword before the spear landed. There was a bellow of pain as the spear sank deep into the troll's thigh. Svik swerved, avoiding a stamping kick and slashing at the troll's leg. Einar and Jökul swept wide around the enraged creature, both hacking and hammering. Torvik ran straight at it, and threw his spear, the blade piercing the troll's shoulder, sinking deep. Another bellow of pain and the troll's club was swinging, all of them leaping away, even Einar, the club clipping Svik and sending him flying, rolling in the mud." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Varg bounced on his toes, then ran in, behind the swing of the club, swaying out of the way of a punch that hammered into the ground, mud spraying, and rammed his shield rim down onto the troll's foot. It was like punching stone, the impact juddering up through his arm. He lost his grip on the shield and leaped, grabbed Svik's spear shaft, still buried in the troll's thigh, and heaved himself up the troll's body, slashing with his seax across the creature's belly. The blade sliced through a few layers of tough, hide-like skin, blood welling, but not deeply enough to spill its guts. The troll roared at Varg and grabbed him around the throat in a boulder-sized fist, lifted him into the air and squeezed.\n\nPain, bones close to cracking, no air even to scream. His vision blurred, bright spots erupting, darkness. A bubbling fear merged with his rage, flooding him, and he snarled and struggled and spat, stabbing his seax into the troll's fist.\n\nThen he was weightless, falling, losing his grip on his seax, crunching to the ground, rolling. Still. He inhaled a mouthful of mud. Spitting, he took ragged gasps as he tried to rise, air rushing into his lungs. He pushed himself up in the mud and saw Svik was on the troll's back, stabbing furiously with his seax into the meat of the muscle between neck and shoulder. Einar was swinging his axe, opening a great red wound down the troll's thigh, and Jökul had stepped in close and was hammering the creature's toes. The troll screamed, enraged.\n\nVarg pushed himself up and shook his head. It hurt to swallow, but that was far better than being dead." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The troll let out a thundering howl and dropped its club, spinning and slapping at its back, trying to dislodge Svik." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dark blood was spurting in fountains. One of its flailing limbs caught Jökul and sent him spinning through the air, crunching to the ground, limbs twisted.\n\nA scream came from behind Varg and he spun round and froze fora moment at what he saw.\n\nGlornir was on one knee, blood flowing from a wound across his shoulder and chest, his brynja rent and hanging in tatters. The red-eyed man was standing over Glornir, bodies heaped around him, raising his pale sword.\n\nVarg realised where the scream had come from.\n\nVol stepped forwards, one hand raised. She moved in front of Glornir, drawing a seax and slicing it across her hand, shouting words Varg did not understand.\n\n\"Bein af því gamla, þú munt ekki fara framhjá,\" she screamed, spittle flying from her mouth, at the same time her bloodied hand tracing shapes in the air. Glowing fire flickered and rippled into life, sharp, straight lines appearing in the air, a Seiðr-rune forming in blood and flame above Glornir, glowing red and orange as the bone sword sliced towards his head. The bone blade met the rune and there was a burst of incandescent light, blinding Varg fora moment. He blinked, his vision returning to see that the bone sword had slowed, as if moving through water, then stopped, stuck halfway through the flaming Seiðr-rune, as if the red-eyed man had chopped his blade deep into timber and could not wrench it free. His body strained with the blade, muscles in his arms bunching, and Varg saw him grunting and hissing words that Varg could not hear.\n\nVol snarled back at him, leaning into the Seiðr-rune as if it were her shield in a shield wall, her hand up, palm pressed flat to it, her face twisted in a grimace of pain, lips moving, words pouring from her in a constant flow." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "All around them Bloodsworn were trying to reach them, fighting furiously with the handful of warriors who had followed the red-eyed man.\n\nThe bone sword shifted, ripples of power washing out from it. The Seiðr-rune flickered and flared, like a stuttering torch as the bone sword began to move again, cutting through the flames.\n\n\"Guðir bein brjóta þig, kló tæta þig,\" the red-eyed man bellowed, spittle flying from his mouth, muscles in his face twitching and writhing, veins bulging, and the Seiðr-rune exploded. Vol was hurled backwards, crashing into Glornir, both of them thrown to the ground, and the red-eyed man stepped over them and raised his sword again.\n\nThe rage that had pulsed in Varg's belly flared bright, fuelled by his fear, white and blinding in his head. He snarled and ran, hands grasping at his weapons belt, drawing his axe and cleaver. Leaped.\n\nThe red-eyed man paused, sword held high, and looked back over his shoulder. Saw Varg hurtling towards him, twisted.\n\nVarg slammed into him, chopping and hacking with axe and cleaver, the two of them falling, rolling. Varg came to a stop, scrabbling for purchase, the fire in his blood sweeping him, burning in his veins. The red-eyed man bellowed, heaved Varg away and stumbled to his feet.\n\nVarg rolled to a halt, the red mist in his head pulsing with his every heartbeat, urging him to kill and rend. When he fought in the pugil-ring the red mist had energised him, given him a rush of adrenalin-fuelled strength and speed, a clarity of thought and an instinctive knowledge that he would never give in. But he had always restrained it, known that to surrender to it would mean the death of his opponent. It was as if he kept a pit-hound on a leash. But here, now, this was to death, everything that mattered in his life coming down to this moment, to the next few heartbeats. Without conscious thought he released the pit-hound in his soul." }, { "from": "human", "value": "He half stood, realising he had lost his axe but still held the cleaver." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He looked at the red-eyed man, seeing him with too-sharp clarity, all around them faded to blurred shapes that fought and screamed and bled. The red-eyed man fixed Varg with his glare that turned to a look of surprise.\n\nHis helm had been knocked loose by Varg. He was old, his grey beard braided, his head shaved. Blood flowed down one side of his face from a gash along the side of his head, skin flapping. He had lost a grip on the bone sword, red eyes searching for it, then he found it and lunged, sweeping it up as Varg scrambled to his feet and threw himself at the old man again, his cleaver raised high in a downwards slash, his teeth bared in a rictus snarl. Dimly, he thought he heard a wolf growling.\n\nThe red-eyed man swung his sword in a horizontal slash.\n\nVarg's cleaver crunched into the red-eyed man's head, deep, wedged, blood and bone spraying, his body jerking and spasming, his strength vanishing in a heartbeat, but the momentum of his sword swing kept the bone sword moving. It connected with Varg's waist.\n\nA searing pain, white light and Varg howled. Then darkness." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elvar walked through a land of mist-shrouded vales and rolling hills freckled with woodland. Ash, elm, oak and linden grew in swathes and copses. Streams gurgled, crows squawked in branches and at night wolves howled and foxes screeched.\n\nAnd these are the Dark-of-Moon Hills, sung of by skálds throughout the land for three hundred years.\n\nThey are no different from the land south of the Boneback Mountains.\n\nExcept that humanity does not exist, here. They had passed a pile of troll dung once, a bull marking the boundaries of his territory, but other than that they had seen little evidence of vaesen, either.\n\nElvar felt a little disappointed.\n\n\"What's wrong?\" Grend grunted beside her.\n\nHe had woken almost two days ago, and now it seemed that he had never been injured, if not for the hint of a bandage visible beneath his iron helm and the scrapes and scratches allover his body. All of the Battle-Grim wore their full battle gear, even for marching, the lesson of the tennúr hill at the bridge still vivid in all of their minds. Elvar's iron helm was buckled at her belt, a weight on her hip.\n\n\"I thought there would be more... danger,\" she said.\n\n\"Be careful what you wish for, Elvar Fire-Fist,\" Biórr said with a smile, who was walking close to her. He was never far from her, now.\n\n\"I know, you're right,\" Elvar said, smiling at the young warrior.\n\nGrend gave Biórr a dour look.\n\nElvar had taken Biórr to her bed each night since the willow tree and made no secret of it. Grend had refrained from commenting, but the fact that he could have uttered the words Biórr had just spoken, and yet only scowled at the young warrior, showed that he did not approve of Elvar's choice." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Their column halted, Agnar hidden from view as he led them, somewhere up ahead, with Uspa, Sighvat and the Hundur-thrall." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They were following a winding track up a ridge, slow going with their carts. Elvar looked around and frowned. It was not an obvious place to make camp, and they had not been marching long enough to stop now, anyway.\n\n\"I'm going to see what is wrong,\" Elvar said with a frown. Grend followed her, which was no surprise.\n\nThey strode along the column, past wagons and horses and the Battle-Grim, warriors staring into the woods around them, other shadowed figures scattered among the trees, scouts of the Battle-Grim. An air of excitement and anticipation hovered over them all, sharpening their senses. Elvar could almost feel it tingling in the air and prickling her skin, like before a thunderstorm.\n\nThe prospect of Oskutreð. It feels so close, I can almost smell it, taste it, hear its whispered call in the wind.\n\nThe front of the column came into view, Agnar standing upon the driving bench of a wagon. He was staring back along the column, over Elvar's head.\n\n\"What is it?\" Elvar asked as she drew near.\n\nSighvat shrugged. \"Chief thought he saw something,\" he said. The Hundur-thrall was sitting with his back against a tree, Uspa stood beside him. Her expression was drawn and stark compared to the warriors around her. Her hand absently patted the Hundur-thrall's shoulder, like a faithful hound.\n\nElvar put afoot on the cart's wheel and climbed up beside Agnar. He was staring back over the hills and woodland, a handover his eyes against the glare of the sun in a cloudless sky. Elvar followed his line of sight. Back along the path they had taken, a patchwork of woodland, streams glistening among them like silver wire. In the distance were black specks of crows in the sky, silhouetted by Eldrafell's red-veined glow, far to the west." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What is it, chief?\" Elvar breathed. She could feel his tension.\n\nAgnar was silent awhile longer.\n\n\"Nothing,\" he eventually breathed, dropping the hand from his eyes and looking at her. \"Just a feeling.\" He sighed, turned and looked at Uspa.\n\n\"How much longer?\" he asked her.\n\n\"Soon,\" she shrugged.\n\n\"You have been saying that for two days,\" Agnar growled.\n\n\"That is all I can say,\" Uspa said. \"The Graskinna was a Galdrabok, not a map.\"\n\n\"Fine,\" Agnar grunted. He patted the shoulder of the man in the driving seat of the cart, then leaped down to the ground.\n\n\"Onwards,\" he shouted.\n\nElvar traced a finger across Biórr's shoulder as she lay beside him, following the curl of a blue-twisting tattoo, moving onto his striated chest, his sweat glistening on the dense curl of his dark hairs. White lines ran diagonally, from right to left, a lattice of silvered scars.\n\n\"What did these to you?\" Elvar said, still a little breathless from their lovemaking.\n\nBiórr shifted onto his side and looked into her eyes.\n\n\"That was a whip,\" he said. \"There were knots in the leather.\" He opened his mouth to say more, but paused, shifted, looked away, uncomfortable. There was a tenseness to him, Elvar thought, that she had noticed growing in him throughout the day.\n\n\"When?\" Elvar said, frowning at the change in him.\n\nAlong silence stretched.\n\n\"Too long ago to remember clearly,\" Biórr said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elvar knew he was lying. You were young, then, she thought. Most likely a bairn. She felt a wave of pity for Biórr, and a flush of anger at whoever could have done this to him. \"When we have the wealth of Oskutreð I will pay a warband a chest of silver to hunt down whoever it was who did this to you. I will make them pay.\"\n\n\"No need,\" Biórr said, a finality in his words that made Elvar feel like that deed was already done.\n\n\"How old are you, Biórr?\" she asked him.\n\n\"I have twenty-two winters weighted across my back,\" he said, and tapped her forehead. \"What is happening in your thought-cage, to besiege me with these questions?\" He smiled at her.\n\n\"I want to know you.\"\n\n\"I think you already do,\" he said, smiling again, his hand stroking her sweat-cooling belly. She shivered.\n\n\"More than that,\" she said. \"In other ways. Where are you from? What food is your favourite?\" She paused, looking intently at him. \"Who are your kin?\"\n\nHe stiffened, then rolled away, onto his back. \"My kin are all dead.\" He sat up, reached for his breeches and pulled them back on, then searched for his tunic. \"I'm hungry,\" he said as he stood and looked down at her. He offered her his hand.\n\nWe all have our scars, and not all of them are etched in our skin. It was along time before I would speak to anyone of my father, and I still do not like to talk of my mother, though she deserves to bespoken of far more than my father ever does. Elvar rolled from the ground and found her clothes, dressed quickly. Finally she slithered into her brynja and buckled on her weapons belt." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They stepped out from the cover of the carts they had been hiding within, walked through the hobbled horses and into the camp. It was night, Elvar thought, judging by the mist-like twilight that was settled about them. Wind hissed in the boughs above, bringing a chill from the north, though the fires of Eldrafell still warmed the ground, keeping it free of frost.\n\nBiórr strode to the fire pit and spooned out two bowls of food, passing one to Elvar. She looked in the bowl and sniffed it.\n\nThere was a pad of footfalls and Grend approached.\n\n\"Hungry,\" he said.\n\nBiórr smiled at the old warrior and handed him a bowl.\n\n\"Nettle and garlic,\" Biórr said, then snatched up a handful of cold oatcakes that sat at the edge of cooling stones and strode away.\n\nElvar nodded a greeting at Grend, then followed Biórr. She heard Grend sigh behind her, followed by the pad of his footfalls as he strode after her. Fora big man he could walk lightly.\n\nElvar walked through the camp, men and women gathered in small groups, eating and drinking, some singing quietly, others telling tales. Sharpening weapons, stitching kit. She followed Biórr and saw that he had found Uspa. Elvar thought he always sought her out because of his guilt over her son, how he had been their guard the night Bjarn was taken. Uspa was sitting with Kráka and the Hundur-thrall, as washer way. Biórr offered them all oatcakes as he sat with his back to the trunk of a fallen tree and they took them happily. The Hundur-thrall sniffed the air." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Soup smells good,\" he said.\n\n\"It is nettle and garlic,\" Biórr said, \"and it is good.\" He offered his bowl to the thrall, who waved a hand, declining, looking alarmed.\n\n\"You should be able to tell what kind of soup it is,\" Elvar said as she joined them. \"What kind of Hundur-thrall are you if you cannot smell nettle and garlic?\"\n\n\"His name is Ilmur,\" Biórr said, a note in his voice that made Elvar feel ashamed. She sat down, wondering why she had never thought to find that out.\n\nGrend joined them, sat and silently slurped on his soup.\n\n\"What is wrong, Uspa?\" Elvar asked the Seiðr-witch. Her face was drawn, eyes pinched, as if she were in pain.\n\nShe sucked in along breath. Held it, then blew it out.\n\n\"I think we shall see Oskutreð on the morrow,\" she said.\n\nElvar almost leaped to her feet, a thrill jolting in her belly and tingling through her limbs.\n\n\"Why did you not tell Agnar this earlier?\" she asked.\n\n\"Because I am not sure. It is just a feeling,\" Uspa said. \"Like a song in my blood. A throbbing in my skull.\" She shook her head. \"I maybe wrong.\"\n\n\"Ha,\" Elvar said, looking at Grend and grinning. He regarded her over his soup spoon, then slurped some more. \"You should look a little happier,\" Elvar said to Grend, \"and you, too, Uspa. This will be the greatest moment of our lives. To look on the great tree, on the place the gods fought hardest. Their bones...\" She shook her head. \"It will be a wonder.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It will be a curse,\" Uspa said bitterly.\n\n\"How can you say such a thing?\" Elvar said. \"What we find at Oskutreð, it will bring us fame and wealth beyond all imagining.\"\n\n\"You think so?\" Uspa asked. \"Perhaps, but I only see blood and death and misery coming from this. The gods are dead and forgotten here, and this is where they should stay. The gods were spoiled, selfish, violent siblings. To drag their bones, their weapons and treasures south to the land of men...\" She made a sound deep in her throat, like a serpent hissing. \"They will be a poison, infecting human hearts. It will start the whole bloody saga spinning again. Rivers of blood.\"\n\n\"It does not have to be that way,\" Elvar said. \"It will be in our hands. Our choice.\"\n\n\"Exactly,\" Uspa spat. \"Look around you. Petty men and women, dreaming of battle-fame, as if that were the greatest thing in life.\"\n\n\"Well, it is,\" Elvar said fiercely. \"Men die, women die, all creatures of flesh and blood die, but battle-fame survives. To become a song, a saga-tale told from generation to generation. That way we will live forever. That is what I want, what all of us want.\"\n\n\"I know,\" Uspa said, \"which is why I pity you, Elvar Störrsdottir.\"\n\nGrend shifted and growled in his throat.\n\n\"Easy, Elvar's Hound,\" Uspa said. \"It was a sharp word, not a sharp blade.\" She looked at Elvar, earnest and sad. \"Battle-fame is nothing; it is chaff on the wind. Bonds of love, of kinship, of passion, of friendship: that is what we should all be yearning for. What you and Biórr are doing behind the wagons each night, now that is real. If you longed for that above battle-fame. If you loved and honoured your kin more than you wished for glory and saga-tales.\" She shrugged. \"The world would be a better place.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Not my kin,\" Elvar said, glowering at Uspa, thoughts of her father's disdainful face in her thought-cage, of her brother Thorun's sneer. \"My kin are not so easy to love, and would sell you as quick as look at you. And if you feel so strongly, then why are you guiding us to Oskutreð?\"\n\n\"For my son,\" Uspa said, her shoulders slumping. \"I am prepared to give up all I hold dear and important, all my fine principles, every great thing I have ever believed in, for my son.\" Her lips twisted with self-loathing. \"I am a hypocrite, you see. Because a mother's love is a powerful thing. An instinct like no other. I would let the world drown in blood if it would mean my Bjarn was safe and back in my arms again.\" She looked away.\n\n\"You are wrong,\" Elvar said. \"It is kin who area curse. You cannot choose them; they are inflicted upon you. They are the poison.\" She waved a hand. \"Grend is closer tome than my father or brothers, and he is faithful, loyal. Good. He chose to walk that path, chose me, as I chose him. And those choices are paid back ten-fold with faithfulness and loyalty. But Grend is not my kin; the same blood does not flow in our veins. It is our choices that count. Look about you, at Agnar, Biórr, Sólín, the Battle-Grim: they are closer kin. Better. I choose them, not because of the shared blood in our veins, but because we have chosen each other. Because we have sworn our oaths. We stand shoulder to shoulder in the shield wall, live or die together.\" She realised her heart was thumping and her knuckles were white, fists clenched. A deep-drawn breath, slowly exhaled." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Our choices decide the future. Who we trust, who we love. And our choices will determine what comes of the treasures we find at Oskutreð. Kin are not the answer. Blood is not the answer.\"\n\nUspa looked at her with pity and sympathy in her eyes. She shook her head.\n\n\"To be young and naive,\" she said. \"Blood is always the answer.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sounds filtered into Varg's thought-cage, gently, like dawn seeping into the world. The crackle of torches burning, echoing, the murmur of voices, indistinct. The dripping of water, rhythmic.\n\nHe realised he was cold. And that he hurt.\n\nHe opened his eyes.\n\nA roof of stone, slick with moisture, shadows shifting on it. He saw figures moving, stooping, heard the rustle of hushed conversation.\n\n\"He's awake.\" A face filled Varg's vision: Torvik, who grinned at him.\n\n\"I knew you'd live. I told them,\" he said. \"I told them. You're a fighter, brother.\"\n\n\"Live,\" Varg croaked. Memories swirled in his thought-cage, of a red-eyed man, Glornir on his knees, bloodied, Vol screeching and flames in the air. A pale sword.\n\nPain thumped rhythmically inside his head, and his left side felt numb.\n\nWhere the bone sword hit me.\n\nMore faces over him: Svik, Røkia, Einar.\n\n\"Where...\" Varg mumbled. He shifted, felt straw stabbing into his back.\n\n\"We are underground, in a catacomb,\" Torvik said. \"This place is a marvel. It is filled with treasures. Relics, silver. The bones of a god!\"\n\nVarg turned his head, which was a mistake, a flare of pain shooting through him. He saw he was lying on a stone floor, straw beneath him, a figure beside him: Jökul, unconscious, a blood-soaked bandage wrapped around his head. Beyond Jökul were other figures laid out on the floor, two of them wrapped from head to boots in linen. Halja kneeled beside one of them. Tears streaked channels through the blood and grime on her cheeks." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Varg looked away, her grief etched so raw that he felt wrong to watch her.\n\nRøkia appeared over him.\n\n\"You managed to take the cover from your spear, and buckle your helm on,\" she said. \"I am very proud of you.\" Varg was not sure if he was really awake or just dreaming, because she smiled at him.\n\nSvik pushed Røkia out of the way.\n\n\"Back with us, then, scrapper,\" Svik said with a grin and twirled one of his moustaches. He did not look like he'd just fought in the shield wall, against skraelings and a troll the size of a barn. Einar's bighead loomed behind him, grinning more broadly than he had done to Svik's fireside tales.\n\nHe heard the sound of a door opening, a voice behind Svik and the others, commanding.\n\n\"You did good,\" Svik whispered, smiled at Varg and patted his cheek. Then Svik was being yanked out of the way, anew face appearing. It was Vol, looking down at him. Her face was grey and drawn, black pools around her eyes.\n\n\"How do you feel?\" she asked him.\n\n\"I hurt,\" Varg grunted. He moved and realised that most of the pain came from his left side, focused around his ribs.\n\n\"You are fortunate to feel at all. Orna's talon has left its mark upon you.\" She smiled at him, a cool hand resting on his forehead. \"You have a courageous heart, Varg No-Sense.\"\n\nHe did not feel courageous. He had just been trying to stay alive. Until the red mist had swept him up in its violent currents." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He tried to speak but she shook her head.\n\n\"Sleep is your healer. Rest, now, and ask your questions when you wake.\"\n\nHe shook his head, wanting to ask his questions now. There were so many of them.\n\n\"Sofaðu græðandi svefninn,\" Vol whispered as she stroked his forehead and his eyes fluttered, his thought-cage sinking into a soft and swirling river.\n\nVarg jerked awake. Blinked. He had been dreaming. Of blood and combat, of trolls and other creatures, of wild, ferocious bears and pale-eyed serpents. Of wolves.\n\n\"It's all right, brother,\" a voice said, a hand patting his shoulder, and he looked to see Torvik sitting beside him, his back leaning against the rough-carved rock of the chamber they were in. Varg sucked in a deep breath and realised that he could feel his left side now. The pain made him grimace. He tried to sit up.\n\n\"Don't rush it,\" Torvik said to him. \"You have been struck with the bone of a dead god; it is going to hurt fora while.\" He grinned and shook his head. \"You fought a dragon-born wielding the talon of dead Orna, the eagle-god, and you slew him.\" He whistled. \"That is a saga-tale, and no denying. Better than Svik's troll-tales for sure. One to rival even the tales about old Skullsplitter.\"\n\n\"Where are we?\" Varg croaked.\n\n\"A catacomb,\" Torvik said. \"Full of ancient wonders. They have been digging here along while, have unearthed an ancient place. Vol thinks it is Rotta's chamber.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The name was familiar to Varg from fireside saga-tales. Rotta was one of the dead gods, the rat, who had played his siblings Orna and Lik-Rifa off against each other, fanning the hatred between the eagle and dragon that had exploded on the day of the gods-fall. In the end Rotta had betrayed Orna too many times and fled from her wrath. She had hunted him down and found him, confined him to eternal punishment in the chambers beneath Frang's Falls, where he was chained to a rock and bewitched serpents were made to crawl across him for eternity, their poison dripping upon him, burning and searing his flesh.\n\n\"And you know what else the saga-tales say was supposed to be kept in these chambers?\" Torvik whispered, leaning closer.\n\n\"What?\" Varg breathed.\n\n\"The Raudskinna, Rotta's Galdrabok, rune-carved on the bloodied skin of Orna's daughter.\"\n\nVarg sucked in along breath. The Raudskinna, said to contain the knowledge of life and death. Orna used Rotta's own rune-spells to keep him alive during his torment, always living, pain without ending.\n\n\"Just a saga-tale, surely,\" Varg said.\n\n\"Aye, that's what I thought about Rotta's chamber, and dragon-born, until yesterday.\"\n\nVarg couldn't argue with that.\n\n\"It is a strange place,\" Torvik said, \"and far more beneath the ground than you would ever imagine. Chambers and scores of tunnels. Barrack rooms and kitchens. They even have horses stabled down here. And there is a chamber full of hundreds of straw mattresses, but only big enough for bairns.\" He shook his head." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Varg realised his throat was dry, and painful." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It hurt to swallow his own spit. He lifted a hand and touched his neck.\n\n\"Ah, yes, that most likely hurts as well,\" Torvik said. \"The troll tried to squeeze the life from you, remember?\"\n\nIt came flooding back.\n\n\"But you stabbed him a dozen times in his hand, like a furious wasp,\" Torvik smiled.\n\n\"Water,\" Varg wheezed.\n\nTorvik unstoppered his water bottle and helped Varg to sit up, leaning him against the cold rock wall. Varg realised his tunic was gone, his torso wrapped in a linen bandage. The pain in his left side surged and spasmed with each movement, but the water in his throat was worth it, soothing as liquid silver. Varg looked around the chamber: a room maybe twenty paces across, with thick wooden doors at either end. Water dripped from the roof, glistening in the torchlight. Jökul still lay close by on abed of straw. His bandage had been changed, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. Beyond him the two dead Bloodsworn lay wrapped in their shrouds. One was Vali. Varg remembered fighting shoulder to shoulder with him in the shield wall.\n\n\"You have won your battle-fame, brother,\" Torvik said. \"Glornir must surely invite you to make your oath. I just hope he asks me too.\"\n\nThrough the pain, Varg noticed that he was growing accustomed to Torvik calling him brother. More than that, he was liking it.\n\n\"He will. You fought well, and bravely,\" Varg croaked. \"I saw you.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Torvik looked away. \"Truth be told, I was scared to death and cannot remember the half of it. But I am alive, and there was blood on my spear when the fighting stopped.\" He looked at Varg. \"But you have outshone me with your battle-fame, Varg No-Sense, like a sun outshines the stars.\" He looked at Varg, his smile gone. \"I think many would be jealous of your battle-fame.\" He shrugged. \"But not I. I am proud to call you brother.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You saved my life,\" Varg said, remembering the skraeling as it had stood over him. \"That is battle-fame enough, in my thought-cage.\"\n\nTorvik's grin returned, warm and genuine. \"And I will save your life again, if need calls, and I have breath in my body.\"\n\n\"And I you,\" Varg breathed.\n\nTorvik laughed. \"Listen to us,\" he said, \"like two grey-beards of battle.\"\n\nVarg could not help but laugh, and regretted it, pain pulsing in his ribs.\n\nOne of the doors opened and Vol walked in, a plate of bread and a bowl in her hand. She smiled to see Varg awake and pulled up a stool, sitting down beside him.\n\n\"Fish stew and some bread,\" she said, offering the plate and bowl to Varg. She looked him up and down. \"I did not expect to see you looking so well. To be struck by the talon of a dead god is no small thing.\"\n\nVarg realised he was starving hungry and spooned the fish stew into his mouth, huffed and blew at its heat. He dipped the chunk of bread into the bowl, soaking up the stew and sucked on that instead.\n\n\"Where is it?\" Varg asked her as he blew on the stew.\n\n\"In there,\" Vol said, nodding at the door on the far side of the chamber. Varg realised he could sense it, a pulsing through his body, like a dull headache. Vol undid the knot of his linen bandage and unwound it, nodded and clicked his tongue as she looked at Varg's wound. He looked down and saw that his whole left side was mottled purple and black, a line of blisters across his rib where the bone sword had connected with him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "No wonder it hurts.\n\nVol laid her hand upon the wound, palm open.\n\n\"Sár gömlu guðanna, sára galdrabeins, lækna, laga, ná sér,\" Vol breathed, and Varg felt a relief from the pain, like when he had scraped the skin from his knee as a bairn and Frøya had blown upon it.\n\nVol looked into Varg's eyes.\n\n\"You saved me. You saved Glornir, and we are grateful.\" She smiled at him. \"This akáll you want. Tell me of it.\"\n\nVarg stared at Vol.\n\nHe sucked in a deep breath. It was a responsibility he had guarded like treasure. As if speaking of it would release it, like a captive bird. He swallowed.\n\n\"I do not know all that happened. Some of it is... blurred,\" he said.\n\n\"Tell me what you know, then,\" Vol asked him.\n\n\"It is for my sister, Frøya. She was murdered.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Vol nodded, \"this we know.\" A look came over her face, a pain shared with Varg.\n\n\"I understand love fora sister,\" Vol whispered, squeezing Varg's hand. \"My own sister is... missing. I worry for her.\"\n\n\"I am sorry to hear that,\" Varg said.\n\nVol shook her head. \"It is probably just my thought-cage, making things seem worse than they are. Uspa is strong. I imagine I will see her soon.\" She looked at Varg. \"So, you were telling me...\"\n\n\"All right then,\" he said, summoning the strength to tell his tale. \"Frøya and I were sold to a farmer, Kolskegg, when we were young. Five, six winters.\" He shrugged. \"Kolskegg was not a kind man. All Frøya and I had were each other. We were close.\" A smile twitched the corners of his mouth at the memory of his sister. \"So close that we came to know how the other felt, without having to say it. Just a look. And as we grew, even when apart I could...\" He looked up at Vol. \"I could feel her, inhere,\" he touched his chest. \"It sounds like I am moon-touched, saying it out loud, but it was real.\" He paused as he dealt with the surge of memories. \"One day I was out clearing anew field of rocks fora winter pasture, and I felt her scream. I felt it in my bones. I knew something was wrong.\" Another pause, then he continued. \"When I got back to the farm I was told that Kolskegg had sold her. This was a year ago, I do not know to whom. Kolskegg told me that if I continued to fight for him in the pugil-ring, earned him enough coin and won the pugil-purse of our district, that I would buy my freedom, and maybe even enough to buy Frøya back. He said if I won this last fight that he would give me a sack of coin and the name of those who bought her.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Did you win, brother?\" Torvik asked.\n\n\"Aye,\" Varg muttered. \"I won. Though I was beaten and battered. Afterwards I was carried back to Kolskegg's barn and flung on a pile of rotting hay, could hear Kolskegg and his freedmen celebrating their win in his hall. As I lay on the ground, I...\" He choked on the words. \"All the time we were apart, I knew she was there. That Frøya was well.\" He shrugged. \"I just knew. But as I lay there, tasting my own blood in my mouth, I felt her scream. And then I felt her die.\" Muscles in his face twitched and his fists clenched, knuckles white. A tear rolled down his cheek. Torvik reached out and squeezed his arm.\n\n\"I got up,\" Varg continued, wanting to get it all out now that he had begun. \"I went to Kolskegg and asked him for my coin, asked him to remove the thrall-collar around my throat. He laughed, said he would be a fool to ever allow such a gold-bringer to just walkaway from him. I...\" Varg looked down at his hands, shook his head. \"The next thing I remember, my hands were around the throat of one of his freedmen, crushing the life from him. They were dead: Kolskegg, all of them, the walls of the hall covered in their blood, pools of it glistening on the ground, and I was stood there among them, chest heaving, blood-drenched. I found the key to my collar, took it, and a purse of coin, and ran.\"\n\nA silence settled among them.\n\n\"And that is why Leif Kolskegg hunted you, for the murder of his father,\" Vol said. It wasn't a question." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It wasn't murder,\" Varg snarled.\n\nVol just looked at him, held his gaze and Varg returned it, fierce, raw.\n\n\"And you have something of your sister?\" Vol asked as she looked away. \"If I were to attempt this akáll I will need a link to her.\"\n\n\"Aye. I have a lock of her hair from a comb she left behind.\"\n\n\"Good,\" Vol nodded. She looked up at Varg, sympathy in her eyes. \"You are aware, an akáll will show you the last moments of her life? That could be hard for you. They will not bring you joy.\"\n\n\"I understand,\" Varg said, \"but I must know what happened to her. I have sworn vengeance on her murderer. I will see who did the deed, in an akáll.\"\n\nVol squeezed his hand.\n\n\"Will you do it?\" Varg asked her.\n\n\"I will speak to Glornir,\" Vol said. \"He is chief; it is his decision.\"\n\n\"But, have I not earned it?\" Varg said, with surprise, a flicker of fear and anger.\n\n\"That is not for me to say,\" Vol said, wrapping the bandage back around him. A draught blew through the chamber, making the torches flicker. The door creaked and Skalk walked in, Olvir and Yrsa behind him. He was smiling, limping and leaning on his knotted oaken staff.\n\n\"Here you are,\" he said to Vol. \"I have been looking for you. I have injured my leg and hoped you would be able to help.\"\n\n\"Injured?\" Vol said.\n\n\"How can you be injured when you did not fight?\" Torvik muttered under his breath." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yes, here,\" Skalk said, stopping and pointing down at his leg.\n\n\"Where?\" Vol said, shifting her weight to turn and look at Skalk.\n\nHe swung his staff into Vol's head, a short, hard blow, a crack and she collapsed, her eyes rolling back into her head.\n\nTorvik grunted and rose, reaching for his seax.\n\nYrsa stepped forward and punched her spear into his throat, ripped it free, arterial blood jetting. Torvik clutched at the wound, blood spurting through his fingers, gurgled and flopped back against the wall, slid down to sit beside Varg, who was staring, frozen. He moved, grunted with pain, and then Olvir's sword was hovering over his chest. He stared wildly at Torvik, who looked back at him. His friend's hand grasped for him, and Varg held it, looking into Torvik's eyes.\n\n\"Brother,\" Torvik choked through his own blood.\n\n\"He needs a weapon in his fist, to walk the soul road,\" Varg cried.\n\n\"I am not putting a weapon anywhere near you,\" Skalk said. \"I saw you fight a dragon-born.\"\n\n\"I will do nothing, I swear it,\" Varg pleaded. \"Please,\" he said, his eyes still locked with Torvik. He could seethe life draining from him. Then there was a gurgled hiss and Torvik was gone.\n\n\"Can you walk?\" Skalk asked him as Yrsa strode to the door on the far side of the chamber, opened it and went in.\n\n\"You area murderer,\" Varg breathed, shock, fear, anger swirling through him.\n\n\"Enough of that,\" Skalk said with a wave of his hand. \"We do what we have to do.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Varg glowered up at Skalk. \"Why am I still alive?\"\n\n\"You have a choice, Varg. I watched you slay one of the Tainted. A dragon-born.\"\n\n\"I attacked him from behind,\" Varg muttered. \"Took him by surprise.\"\n\n\"The dragon-born have been widely thought to be a saga-story,\" Skalk continued, ignoring Varg. \"Extinct, if they ever existed, until I saw that one walkout into broad daylight with a talon of dead Orna in his hands. And you slew him. That is a rare deed. Glornir with all of his battle-fame could not do that. So...\" He sucked in a deep breath, staring at Varg intently. \"I know that you wish an akáll performed, which I can do for you, and I would like you at my side, as one of my oathsworn. That is my offer: come with me, swear your oath tome, and I will give you what you want.\"\n\nVarg just stared back at Skalk. The pain in his side, the murder of Torvik, the stink of blood and voided bowels filling the room: it was like some fevered nightmare.\n\nYrsa emerged from the far room carrying a chest. She placed it at Skalk's feet, and he squatted, slid the bolt and opened the lid. Waves of power leaked from the chest like heat from an opened oven. Varg saw the pale gleam of the bone sword, a sheaf of rolled parchments, and other things as well. He grimaced and looked away.\n\n\"What is wrong?\" Skalk asked him. Frowned. \"Can you feel this?\"\n\n\"You cannot?\" Varg muttered.\n\n\"Hhmmm,\" Skalk murmured, aglitter in his eyes. He closed the lid with a snap and the throbbing power receded. The Galdurman stood and hefted the chest." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Varg looked at Torvik's hand in his, already growing cold.\n\nTorvik is dead. He was my... friend. It felt strange to think that, when Varg had been friendless his whole life. He felt the surprise and fear becoming overwhelmed by the anger rising in his belly. Looked to Vol, who lay unconscious on the rock floor.\n\n\"Take her,\" Skalk said to Yrsa, who squatted and pulled Vol up over her shoulder, stood and walked to the chamber's exit. She looked out.\n\n\"Clear,\" she said to Skalk.\n\n\"Take her to the horses,\" Skalk said and Yrsa disappeared from view, her footsteps echoing, fading. He was watching Varg and saw his eyes following Vol.\n\n\"She is coming with me,\" Skalk said, \"I have never seen a Seiðr-witch so powerful. She is wasted on the Bloodsworn, will make a fine thrall tome.\" He smiled. \"So, back to my offer. Swear your oath tome, and you will have your akáll. Yes?\"\n\nMy oath. Varg's hand went instinctively to the pouch at his belt, but it was gone: must have been taken off with his tunic. A rush of panic. Frøya. Only moments ago, he had been talking of her with Vol. His hopes were like ashes in the fire now. And Skalk offered him a chance of fulfilling his oath to Frøya. My oath, he thought. My whole life, everything I am is bound up within that oath. He looked at Torvik, at his dead eyes.\n\n\"I can walk,\" he said. He shifted his weight, grimaced, pushed himself up with one hand, then stopped when Olvir's sword tip touched his chest." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Skalk smiled and nodded. \"Help him,\" the Galdurman said to Olvir, who lowered his blade and offered Varg his arm.\n\nVarg gripped it, and heaved Olvir forwards, the warrior stumbling and falling onto Varg, trying to raise his sword.\n\nHe felt a burst of pain as Olvir fell on him, the man's mail coat scraping on Varg's bare skin, an elbow in Varg's ribs. Olvir's feet scrabbled on the rock floor and Varg locked the warrior's sword arm and punched him in the face with his other hand, Olvir grunting, spitting blood. He twisted, breaking free, and Varg dug his heels into the wall at his back, propelled himself forwards and the two men fell across the room. Bright bursts of pain but Varg ignored them, spat and snarled at Olvir, bit into skin as Olvir was crushed close to him. He felt the spurt of blood in his mouth, hot and metallic, bit down harder, wrenching his neck. Olvir screamed, Varg feeling the change in the warrior, from fight to fear, writhing and bucking, now, terror-filled, just trying to getaway. Blood was in Varg's throat, on his face, in his eyes, blinding. Olvir's body was jerking, slowing, twitching. Varg rolled away, gasping, spitting up globs of blood. Wiped his eyes. Saw Skalk's snarling face, his boot hurtling towards Varg, connecting with his wounded ribs.\n\nAn explosion of pain: he heard himself scream, but that was sucked away into darkness." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Orka pulled on Trúr's reins, the horse slowing and coming to a halt, stamping his feet and blowing bouts of hot breath. His coat was steaming and sweat-soaked. Orka's breath blew clouds, too, the temperature dropping as they climbed steadily into higher ground.\n\nShe stared at the sight before her.\n\nThey were in the highlands: sweeping hills that shifted into the slopes of the Boneback Mountains, sombre forests of pine spreading before her, frost glittering on the bark. Orka leaned and spat, then twisted in her saddle and looked back over her shoulder.\n\nMord and Lif were not far behind, cantering across an open meadow before they reached the treeline. Behind the two brothers the world sloped away, down to the river valleys that twisted through the land. Orka followed the line of the River Drammur, tracing it as it grew ever fainter and eventually disappeared, knowing it led to Darl, and along that line their pursuit would most likely come. Guðvarr was tracking them by land, as evidenced by the columns of smoke that rose from his pit fires each evening.\n\nIdiot that he is. Orka snorted. But she also suspected that boats were following them via the River Drammur, as well. Sleek-hulled snekkes, rather than dragon-prowed drakkar, because of the stretches of rapids and shallows. To the east, the slopes they were climbing dropped away to the Drammur, the river narrowing and becoming fiercer as they approached its headwaters in the Boneback Mountains. The curl of smoke gave away a village upon the river's banks, one of many that Orka and the two brothers had avoided on their journey towards the Grimholt, though being forced to take less-travelled paths had cost them in time. Orka feared the gap between her and Drekr was slowly widening." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But if he is heading where Skefil told me, then he may stop there, rest awhile. That is where I will catch him.\n\nAt the Grimholt. Orka stared north, eyes creasing as she saw the gap between the peaks of the Bonebacks that marked where the Grimholt Tower lay, a fortress built to guard one of the few passes through the mountains. To the north vaesen roamed in greater numbers, the Grimholt barring their entrance into the southlands of Vigrið.\n\nThe drum of hooves and Mord and Lif reached her, slowing as the horses left the soft meadow and entered the needle-soaked ground beneath the trees. Sunlight dappled the ground as branches swayed.\n\n\"Why have we stopped?\" Lif asked her.\n\nOrka nodded ahead.\n\nThey were a little way into the pinewoods, Orka following what she had thought was a fox trail. Ahead of them a small glade opened up, at its centre the shattered remains of an oath stone, much like the one on the Oath Rock in the fjord, back at Fellur village.\n\nA slab of rock jutted from the ground, splintered and broken, lumps of granite scattered around the glade, overgrown with grass and moss. Upon what was left of the central slab afresh carving stood out, a twisted, sinuous knot-carving with gaping, fanged jaws. It was coated in something dark and cracked, almost oil-black.\n\nBut that was not what drew Orka's eyes.\n\nAbove the shattered oath stone a dead eagle hung, tied by one talon with rope to a bough above it. The eagle was huge, twice the length of Orka, its great, rust-feathered wings hanging down into the glade, blood dried in a slick from a wound on its white-feathered throat that had dripped from its curved beak. The rope creaked, the dead eagle twisting ponderously as the breeze soughed through branches." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Orka clicked her tongue and Trúr walked into the glade, let out a whinny to show his discontent. Dismounting, Orka padded across the glade, ducked beneath the eagle and kneeled before the oath stone. She touched the new carving, saw it had been coated in the eagle's blood, now dried to black and cracked like a scab. She looked back at the two brothers, who sat on their horses looking uneasily at Orka.\n\n\"I saw something like that carving back in Liga,\" Orka said as she stood and walked back to her horse.\n\n\"Worshippers of Snaka in Helka's realm,\" Mord said, incredulous. He hawked and spat.\n\n\"Not Snaka,\" Orka said as she climbed back into the saddle. \"Look closer.\"\n\nMord and Lif urged their mounts into the glade and they both leaned in their saddles. Lif saw it first. He hissed.\n\n\"It has wings,\" Lif said.\n\n\"Aye. Whoever did this, they worship Lik-Rifa, the caged dragon.\"\n\nOrka set her feet and waited.\n\nMord and Lif spread around her, left and right, seaxes in their hands, wrapped in wool. Mord moved first, darting in, and Orka stepped left, slapped his stabbing seax away, turned as Lif slashed at her side, twisted, felt it graze her waist. Another stab from Mord, Orka moving into meet him, grabbing his wrist and heaving him forwards, a flicker of pain in his eyes from the wound in his shoulder. Orka ignored that, twisting to spin Mord into Lif's path, who was already moving, committed to another attack, and he stabbed Mord in the belly. Or would have, if his seax were not wrapped in wool." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Better,\" Orka said. \"You are both using your thought-cages, and beginning to react better. When you have done this enough times, you will not have to think. Your body will do it for you.\"\n\n\"No hesitation,\" Lif said.\n\n\"Yes,\" Orka said with a curt nod. \"Now, again.\"\n\nThey fought on, Orka silent as they attacked, defeating them every time, though both Lif and Mord were getting closer to touching her with their blades, Lif especially. He was calmer, more thoughtful, and listened more openly, without any of the hubris that entwined Mord. He wanted to be skilled and dangerous, but without admitting that he was not good enough, yet. Mord's patience would not last, and he would often try to rush Orka, which inevitably ended up with him on his arse.\n\n\"Hold,\" Orka said, raising a hand. She tugged her nålbinding cap off her head, Thorkel's cap, and wiped sweat from her brow. It was cold this high in the hills, their sweat steaming. Orka had seen the tell-tale gleam of a frost-spider's web that afternoon in the pinewoods. \"Enough for tonight.\"\n\nMord and Lif did not look disappointed with that decision.\n\nAlthough it was still light, even in the shelter of this pinewood, Orka knew that it was late in the day, and she knew rest was vital if they were going to avoid capture by Guðvarr and Sigrún's drengrs.\n\n\"Tend to your weapons,\" Orka said, walking to a bag and rummaging inside for the bread and cheese they had bought yesterday. They had crossed paths with an old farmer on the road, leading a mule and cart and heading to a nearby village to sell his goods at market. After they had convinced him they were not lawless men about to rob him, they had given him some coin in return for bread and cheese, ajar of milk, a dozen oatcakes and a joint of salted pork. She took it out and sliced them all a portion, handed it out and sat with her back to a tree. The wound in her back that Drekr had given her pulled as she stretched, the skintight. Lif had cut the stitches and drawn them out, and it felt good to Orka. Just a little stiff, a tightness during some movements. She pulled her cloak about her, cold seeping in now that she had stopped moving, and there would be no fire to warm her bones." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Help to continue the narrative for the writer.\nTags: fantasy, norse mythology, dragons\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: The Shadow of the Gods\nChapter: 48" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Better,\" Orka said. \"You are both using your thought-cages, and beginning to react better. When you have done this enough times, you will not have to think. Your body will do it for you.\"\n\n\"No hesitation,\" Lif said.\n\n\"Yes,\" Orka said with a curt nod. \"Now, again.\"\n\nThey fought on, Orka silent as they attacked, defeating them every time, though both Lif and Mord were getting closer to touching her with their blades, Lif especially. He was calmer, more thoughtful, and listened more openly, without any of the hubris that entwined Mord. He wanted to be skilled and dangerous, but without admitting that he was not good enough, yet. Mord's patience would not last, and he would often try to rush Orka, which inevitably ended up with him on his arse.\n\n\"Hold,\" Orka said, raising a hand. She tugged her nålbinding cap off her head, Thorkel's cap, and wiped sweat from her brow. It was cold this high in the hills, their sweat steaming. Orka had seen the tell-tale gleam of a frost-spider's web that afternoon in the pinewoods. \"Enough for tonight.\"\n\nMord and Lif did not look disappointed with that decision.\n\nAlthough it was still light, even in the shelter of this pinewood, Orka knew that it was late in the day, and she knew rest was vital if they were going to avoid capture by Guðvarr and Sigrún's drengrs.\n\n\"Tend to your weapons,\" Orka said, walking to a bag and rummaging inside for the bread and cheese they had bought yesterday. They had crossed paths with an old farmer on the road, leading a mule and cart and heading to a nearby village to sell his goods at market. After they had convinced him they were not lawless men about to rob him, they had given him some coin in return for bread and cheese, ajar of milk, a dozen oatcakes and a joint of salted pork. She took it out and sliced them all a portion, handed it out and sat with her back to a tree. The wound in her back that Drekr had given her pulled as she stretched, the skintight. Lif had cut the stitches and drawn them out, and it felt good to Orka. Just a little stiff, a tightness during some movements. She pulled her cloak about her, cold seeping in now that she had stopped moving, and there would be no fire to warm her bones." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Twilight lay heavy upon them, the long days and lack of darkness confusing Orka's body. There was a stinging behind her eyes that spoke of exhaustion. She felt a weariness deep in her bones, and the weight of Breca's absence gnawed at her.\n\nYou must rest, a voice whispered in her thought-cage, sounding like Thorkel's rough voice.\n\nI will rest when Breca is safe at my side, and when you are avenged, my beloved, she answered. Her thought-cage felt full to overflowing and sluggish. Fractured images of the glade with the dead eagle and rune-carved oath stone would not leave her.\n\nCarvings of Lik-Rifa. Worship of the dragon-god. And at the same time a dragon-born whom all think are just saga-tales appears, slaying my husband and stealing my son. What does it mean? It ate away at her, like saltwater dripping upon a fine sword, rusting and corrupting. Her nerves felt frayed. The thought of finding Drekr and putting a blade in his belly, twisting it just to hear him scream, played through her head, over and over.\n\nAnswers before vengeance, she told herself, though I will settle for Breca back safe and Drekr in the ground. She unbuckled her weapons belt and took a whetstone from the small pouch built into the scabbard of a seax, and began the rhythmic scrape as she ran it across the blade.\n\nLif was checking on their horses, the three animals nearby, hobbled by a stream, and Mord sat close to Orka. He lay his spear, seax and hand-axe on the pine needles and began to check them, cleaning with scouring sand and a linen rag, then sharpening their blades. Lif joined then and the three of them satin silence, eating and sharpening." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What is the plan, then?\" Mord asked over the hiss and rasp of whetstones.\n\nOrka did not answer fora while. She was still thinking it through.\n\nAfter fleeing Guðvarr she had thought to travel north after Drekr, towards the Grimholt, hoping to either catch up with him or find a place suitable to ambush Guðvarr. Thus far neither of those hopes had borne fruit.\n\n\"We will continue to the Grimholt, and see,\" Orka muttered. \"It is maybe a day's travel away, no more than two.\"\n\n\"What is the Grimholt?\" Lif asked her.\n\n\"A fortress, built to guard a gap through the Bonebacks against the vaesen of the north,\" Orka said. \"A hall, walls north and south.\"\n\n\"Have you seen it, then?\" Mord asked her.\n\n\"Aye,\" Orka nodded. \"Along time ago.\"\n\nIn another life, or so it feels.\n\nMord and Lif glanced atone another.\n\n\"We may end up caught between hammer and anvil,\" Mord said. \"Enemies before and behind us.\"\n\nA precipice in front and wolves behind. Orka did not like that thought, either.\n\n\"You have seen the campfires on our trail,\" Orka said. \"Guðvarr not even having the clever to hide his fires. We have opened up the gap between us and him. Maybe a day and a half.\" She shrugged. \"If we get to the Grimholt, then we shall make a decision. Move on, or stand and fight Guðvarr.\" She looked at them both. \"Blood will be shed, and soon.\"\n\nLif nodded, and Mord smiled." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Fighting me is one thing,\" Orka said, \"and you are doing well.\"\n\n\"Less bruises,\" Lif smiled.\n\n\"Aye,\" Orka nodded. \"But for you to fulfil your oaths of vengeance you must fight Guðvarr.\"\n\n\"That is what we want,\" Lif said. \"And I don't think he will be as hard to kill as you are.\"\n\n\"He is a troll-shite niðing,\" Mord grunted, and shrugged, as if dispatching Guðvarr would be a simple task.\n\n\"True,\" Orka said, \"he is a troll-shite niðing, but he will be a troll-shite niðing who wears a coat of mail and carries a shield and sword. A drengr \"s kit. And there will likely be other drengrs with him, such as Arild, and Helka's warriors who were with him at the farm. So, you must be ready to fight a drengr, and more importantly, know how to defeat one. Their strengths and weaknesses. You will be in wool, most likely with a seax or axe in your fist.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Lif grunted attentively.\n\n\"So, are you ready? How do you defeat a warrior in mail, with sword and shield? They are better protected than you, and skilled in weapons craft.\"\n\nThe two brothers were silent awhile.\n\n\"Speed,\" Lif eventually said.\n\nOrka nodded. \"Good. You must use what you have to counter what they have. So, you will be light, not carrying a coat of mail on your back. A brynja chafes the shoulders and slows your movement. Move in quick, never a straight rush, though. Small steps, sway, and get in close, inside their guard; make it harder for them to swing a sword or stab with a spear. Their shields will be a problem. Again, move to the sides, not straight on. If you are using your axe, hook the shield rim, pull them off balance. And once you are in close, their mail will be another problem.\" She stopped scraping the whetstone along her seax. \"Strike here,\" she touched her throat. \"Or here,\" and put her hand to the inside of her thigh, high, close to her groin. \"Open those veins and your opponent is dead. And a brynja does not cover those spots perfectly.\" She shrugged. \"Of course, while you are trying to do that to them, they will be trying just as hard to stab you anywhere, as you will be wearing wool that parts like butter.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That's encouraging,\" Mord said, frowning.\n\n\"Realistic,\" Orka said. She shrugged. \"Speed will win you your vengeance. And remember. Do not-\"\n\n\"Hesitate,\" they both said.\n\nOrka smiled.\n\n\"And how about you?\" Mord said. \"You were on your knees with Drekr's hands around your throat the last time you saw him. How do you plan on killing him?\"\n\nOrka looked at Mord.\n\n\"Slowly,\" she said, then went back to the rasp and scrape of whetstone on steel." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Varg woke to screaming: dull, distant, growing louder as his consciousness returned, like being buried alive and clawing out from the soil. He gasped, twisted, felt hands holding him down.\n\n\"Easy, No-Sense,\" a voice said.\n\nHe didn't listen; saw blurred figures around him and fought and twisted, until other hands were grabbing him, holding him. He fell back, gasping, his vision focusing, tasted iron and spat blood. The first person he saw was Røkia. She was holding him, her face twisted with worry.\n\n\"You're with friends,\" she said to him, and he blew out along breath and sagged in her arms, and Svik's, he realised.\n\nHe was still in the same chamber, the smell of blood thick and cloying. Olvir's corpse lay close by, limbs twisted, his throat a ragged, open wound. And then he saw Torvik and felt the weight of grief fall upon his shoulders.\n\nTorvik is dead. Vol is gone.\n\nSomeone was still bellowing. There was a crashing and pounding sound and he saw Einar standing by the door to the bone-sword chamber.\n\nBefore Skalk stole it.\n\nEinar was leaning against the door, bracing it with his shoulder, a few other Bloodsworn with him, Sulich and Halja, all holding the door shut. As Varg stared he saw the door tremble and buck, Einar straining to keep it shut. Muffled sounds leaked out: pounding, a growling, grief-filled roar.\n\n\"What is in there?\" Varg muttered, thinking they had caught another troll.\n\n\"Glornir,\" Svik said to him.\n\nVarg blinked at that." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"He is a little angry,\" Svik said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Best that he is not around others right now.\"\n\nAnother crash against the door. A splintering sound.\n\n\"What is happening?\" Varg breathed, then lifted his hands and knuckled his eyes.\n\n\"Vol is gone,\" Røkia said, as if that explained everything.\n\n\"I know,\" Varg muttered, \"but...\"\n\n\"Vol is not a thrall,\" Svik said. \"She is Glornir's woman.\"\n\nIt took a few moments for that to sink into Varg's thought-cage.\n\n\"Skalk took her,\" he said. \"Yrsa stabbed Torvik.\" Varg felt a fist clench in his belly: anger, grief. \"I...\" He stopped, remembering Skalk's offer to him, how he had thought about accepting, just fora moment, felt a wave of shame, and loss. If Vol was gone, then the chance of fulfilling his oath to Frøya was gone, too.\n\n\"We have to get Vol back,\" Varg said, stumbling to his feet. Pain in his side, pulsing from his ribs, stealing his breath, but he pushed through it. Swayed, fought the urge to vomit.\n\n\"That's the spirit,\" Svik said, smiling at Varg, \"but perhaps you should put some clothes on first.\"\n\nVarg looked down and saw that he was still in his boots and breeches, but he had no tunic on, his belt gone.\n\nSvik held up a linen tunic for Varg, helped him thread it over his arms. Then a woollen one. Varg hissed and gasped, gritted his teeth to the pain. Røkia held up his belt. His seax, cleaver and axe were hanging upon it, and his pouch. He felt a weight lift from his shoulders at the sight of it and took it from Røkia." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The door crashed again and Einar was thrown back into the room, scrambling back to brace the door.\n\nVarg stared. \"Glornir is strong, but he cannot do that to a door,\" he said. \"Not with Einar on the other side of it.\"\n\n\"He can,\" Svik said.\n\n\"How?\"\n\nSvik looked at Røkia and she nodded.\n\n\"It is time,\" she said.\n\n\"I think so, too,\" Svik shrugged. He looked at Varg. \"Glornir is Berserkir,\" Svik said to him.\n\nVarg just stared at him, feeling the beginning of a laugh sputter and die in his throat. \"Glornir is Tainted?\" he breathed.\n\n\"Aye. He is god-touched, has the blood of Berser the bear flowing in his veins.\"\n\nVarg stared at the door, incredulous.\n\n\"I am Tainted, too,\" Svik said to him. \"Refur the fox lives on in my blood.\"\n\nVarg stared at him. A silence fell over the chamber. Even Glornir's pounding and roaring stopped fora few moments.\n\n\"This is one of your twisted jests,\" Varg said.\n\n\"No jest,\" Svik shook his head. He stepped closer to Varg and tugged on his red beard, an abrupt intensity in his gaze. A change came over his face, a subtle shifting of features, the angles sharpening. His eyes, always so blue, swirled and clouded, shifting to a greenish yellow, and the teeth in his mouth changed, suddenly small and sharp-edged.\n\n\"You see,\" Svik smiled. A toothy grin.\n\nVarg stumbled back and collided with the wall." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"There will come a time when you can control the beast in your blood, summon it when it is needed." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But you area long way from that,\" Svik said. He cracked his neck and his eyes shifted back to blue; his teeth reverted to normal.\n\n\"This can't be true,\" Varg said, shaking his head. \"You and Glornir, Tainted...\"\n\n\"It is true,\" Svik said, \"but not just Glornir and me. All of the Bloodsworn. We are all god-touched.\"\n\nVarg looked from Svik to Røkia to Einar. Røkia nodded, and Einar looked back over his shoulder and grinned at Varg.\n\n\"Welcome, brother,\" Einar said.\n\n\"Brother?\" Varg whispered.\n\n\"Aye,\" a voice from the far door said. It was Edel, standing in the entrance with her two wolfhounds. \"You are Tainted, Varg No-Sense.\" She reached into a pouch at her belt and pulled out a linen rag, black with dried, crusted blood. She held it up. \"This was used to tend your cuts after you fought Einar, in Liga. Hundur the hound lives in my veins, and I could smell the wolf in you the moment your blood was spilled.\"\n\n\"Wolf,\" Varg mumbled.\n\n\"Aye, Ulfrir lives in your veins,\" Røkia said. \"You are Úlfhéðnar, like me.\" Ashy smile touched her lips.\n\n\"No,\" Varg said.\n\n\"Search yourself,\" Røkia said. \"All your life you have hidden it, suppressed it, no? But it has always been there. A whisper in your thought-cage. A howling in your blood. A fierceness, a red mist that gives you strength and speed when you need it most.\" She looked pointedly down at Olvir's corpse, his throat open, and Varg remembered waking upon Kolskegg's farm, seeing Kolskegg and a handful of his freedmen dead, blood everywhere. Kolskegg's throat had been torn out." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You know it to be true,\" Røkia said.\n\nVarg stared at them all, felt the world spinning in his thought-cage, his gut twisting, found it hard to breath, as if the walls were pressing in upon him, squeezing him, crushing the air from his lungs. He bent over and vomited, wiped his mouth and stumbled away, pushing past Edel and out through the door.\n\nA tunnel split two ways, but he just followed the path in front of him, stumbling. He spilled into a larger chamber, his footfalls taking wing and echoing like a swarm of bats. In the hall's centre was a huge slab of rock, roughly chiselled. Great chain links had been hammered into it, four iron collars for wrists and ankles. The rock was pitted and scarred like a blacksmith's apron. Close to the rock Varg saw a handful of Bloodsworn around a hearth fire. They raised hands to him in greeting.\n\n\"Air,\" he grunted.\n\nThey pointed to a tunnel and Varg ran through it, the path climbing, and then he saw light and burst out into the bright day, fell to his knees and gasped in fresh, clean air. He still had his belt clutched in one fist, weapons hanging from it, and his pouch.\n\nI am Tainted. He knew it was true, the thought a dark, malignant cloud in his thought-cage. He did not want to believe it, felt ashamed, sickened, repulsed. Tainted. Lower than a thrall, only good to be hunted, enslaved, used. But he knew it was true, his whole life fitting together, making sense, like a key fitting into a lock.\n\nHe looked up and saw the muddy glade was busy with Bloodsworn. A hearth fire burned, a pot hanging over it, and elsewhere warriors were saddling and harnessing a line of horses. The body of the troll lay close to Varg, where it had fallen, but the other dead had been carried to one side of the glade and laid outside by side: skraelings, warriors, thralls. The warriors had been stripped of their war gear." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Aline of thralls stood close to the hearth fire, at their head a man using hammer and a chisel to free them of their iron collars. He looked up and Varg saw it was Jökul. He saw Varg and handed the hammer and chisel to another Bloodsworn, then strode to the hearth fire, where he spooned porridge into a bowl and walked towards Varg. A bandage was still around Jökul's head.\n\n\"They have told you, then,\" the smith said as he squatted beside Varg.\n\nVarg grunted, nodded.\n\n\"Here, you look like you need a good meal.\"\n\nVarg ran his tongue around his mouth, could still taste blood. Not his own.\n\nJökul took a water bottle from his belt and handed it to him.\n\nVarg swilled it around his mouth and spat it out, then drank some. He handed the bottle back to Jökul, who pushed the bowl of porridge at him.\n\n\"Eat. It will help.\"\n\nVarg sniffed the porridge and his belly growled. He began to eat.\n\n\"It is a shock, and no denying,\" Jökul said. \"I remember when I discovered the truth: descended from Gröfu the badger.\" He shook his head and was quiet awhile, then sighed. \"But you must deal with this, and quickly. We have Vol to find and Torvik to avenge.\"\n\nVarg looked at him and felt those words light a spark in his soul.\n\nSvik walked out of the tunnel entrance, Edel and Røkia with him. They saw Varg and Jökul and made straight for them. Sat around him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Cheer up,\" Svik said, smiling. \"I know you are probably jealous and wish that you were descended from Refur the Handsome as I am, but you cannot have everything.\" He shrugged.\n\nVarg glared at them. \"You have all deceived me, kept it hidden for so long.\"\n\n\"You have been watched with a close eye,\" Edel said. She shrugged. \"We have to be careful. If word spread of what we are, we would become the hunted, not the hunters. We had to know that you could be trusted. If we had told you and you had left,\" she shrugged. \"Vigrið is not a safe place for the Tainted.\"\n\n\"Being Tainted does not mean you are Bloodsworn,\" Svik said, his smile gone. \"We are not the only Tainted in the land, or the only warband of Tainted. And not all of them areas... agreeable, as us.\" He leaned forward and held Varg's eye. \"It was not enough for us to know that you are Tainted. We had to know what kind of man you are, inhere.\" He poked Varg in the chest. \"An oath-keeper, or an oath-breaker?\"\n\nVarg bowed his head, feeling a rush of shame, remembering how close he came to accepting Skalk's offer.\n\nBut I did not go. I am here.\n\n\"And now we know,\" Røkia said. She smiled again, which Varg found disconcerting. He was not used to seeing that expression on her face, except when she had put his arse on the ground or given him anew bruise.\n\n\"You will have many questions,\" Svik said, staring intensely at Varg, \"and we shall try to answer them all. But before all of that, you must hear this. We are the Bloodsworn, closer than kin. A brotherhood, a sisterhood: we live and die together. You have not sworn the oath, yet, but you are one of us. Of that I am sure.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "That was not a thought that Varg could fully comprehend." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "All of his life he had been alone, apart from Frøya. They had kept the flicker of life burning in each other's hearts. Their only kin, their only home was each other.\n\n\"But before your questions, we need to know what happened with Skalk. Tell us everything that happened,\" Edel asked him.\n\nVarg took a deep breath, pushing away the questions that were buzzing in his thought-cage like bees after pollen, and he began to speak.\n\n\"That is all I remember,\" Varg said and blew out along breath.\n\nSvik, Røkia, Edel and Jökul sat therein silence.\n\n\"Good that you slew that snivelling arseling, Olvir,\" Jökul said.\n\nRøkia stood up and walked away, across the muddy glade.\n\nEinar emerged from the tunnel entrance. He saw Varg and the others and approached them, walking around the troll's corpse.\n\n\"Not one of your kin, I hope,\" Svik called out to the big man.\n\nEinar just shook his head. \"Svik is only joking. I am not really a half-troll,\" he said to Varg. \"I am just big-boned.\"\n\n\"Glornir?\" Edel asked Einar.\n\n\"He is in his right mind,\" Einar said. \"He is coming.\"\n\nSvik got up and strode into the tunnel.\n\nEinar looked at Varg. \"So, Biter, are you all right?\"\n\nVarg looked up at him, not even knowing how to answer that.\n\nRøkia walked back to them. She carried a bundle of mail tied with rope, and a helm. When she reached them, she dropped the mail and helm at Varg's feet." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"This is yours, earned in the battle-fray with your blood and valour.\"\n\nIt was the red-eyed man's brynja, and his helm.\n\n\"You have won yourself quite the collection, since you have walked with the Bloodsworn,\" Edel said. She tugged on the ear of one of her wolfhounds and it licked her arm.\n\n\"You have,\" Einar said. \"I think we are bringing you good luck.\"\n\nVarg put a hand to his ribs, where the red-eyed man had struck him.\n\n\"If this is good luck, I would hate to see what bad luck looks like,\" he muttered.\n\n\"That,\" Røkia said, pointing at the stripped corpses that lay along one side of the glade, their bodies pale, eyes sightless.\n\nGlornir strode from the tunnel, his long-axe and shield both slung across his back. Svik walked at his right shoulder, talking to him, and Sulich at his left. The rest of the Bloodsworn that were not already in the glade walked at Glornir's back. They were dressed in their battle-mail, bristling with weapons, shields upon their backs.\n\nGlornir walked up to Varg and stopped, looked down at him. His eyes were red-rimmed, black pools around them, a vein pulsing at his temple.\n\n\"So, you know what we are,\" Glornir said. \"And what you are.\"\n\n\"I do,\" Varg breathed out.\n\n\"I, Glornir Shield-Breaker, lord of the Bloodsworn, invite you to join us, Varg No-Sense. To bend your back with us on the oar-bench, to stand with us in the shield wall, in the battle-storm, to drink with us in the mead hall. Will you take our oath?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Varg stood and looked around at the Bloodsworn, Svik, Røkia, all of them, staring at him.\n\n\"I will,\" Varg said.\n\nA cheer rang out in the glade.\n\nGlornir drew the sword at his hip, looked at the sharp-glint of steel, then took an arm ring from his bicep, twisted silver with bear's heads at its terminals. He threaded the ring onto his sword blade and held it out to Varg.\n\n\"Take this and know that I am indebted to you. And that you are one of us.\"\n\nVarg stared at the sword and arm ring, then held his handout. Glornir tilted his blade and the ring slid down it, into Varg's palm. He threaded it around his left bicep and squeezed it closed.\n\nSvik grinned his approval.\n\n\"The oath-words shall bespoken soon,\" Glornir said, \"but now there is no time. Now, we must go and get my wife back.\"\n\nThere was another roar from the Bloodsworn, but this one filled with malice and threat. Varg joined his voice to theirs.\n\nSkalk, the Bloodsworn are coming for you." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elvar looked up at the trees about her, an endless sea of elm and oak, the clouded sky beyond them a grey and sombre mantle, heavy with snow and flickering with the muted colours of the guðljós. The dark trees stood like sentinels, the woodland silent, no birdsong, no buzz or rasp of insects. Just a cold wind that hissed through branches, making them sway and creak.\n\nBodies hung from their boughs. Ancient, desiccated corpses with thick-knotted, half-frayed ropes around their necks. Each one had the ribs at their back hacked and torn outwards, looking like a bloody parody of wings.\n\n\"The blood-eagle,\" Elvar whispered, staring. Hundreds of them hung all around, disappearing into the forest's gloom, the creaking of their ropes sounding like a thousand skeletal corpses whispering and groaning.\n\n\"This is the Gallows Wood,\" Uspa said.\n\n\"I had guessed that myself,\" Sighvat muttered, looking up and turning in a slow circle, a hand going to the frost-spider's claw hung about his neck, as if it were some good-luck talisman.\n\nThe Battle-Grim stood tight around their column, four carts with their harnessed ponies, forty warriors in mail. Instinctively they had drawn closer together as they'd passed through these new woods, spears held ready, eyes scouring the shadowed woodlands. That had been before they had even seen the first hanging corpse.\n\n\"The skálds call it the traitor-sea,\" Kráka said. \"Where Orna answered the betrayal of her sister, Lik-Rifa.\"\n\nElvar knew the tale well. The skálds had sung of it in her father's hall, and if the saga-tale was true then these corpses were dragon-born, children of Lik-Rifa, gathered and slain by Orna, their backs hacked and chopped open in answer to Lik-Rifa's slaying of Orna and Ulfrir's winged daughter, Valkyrie. Elvar's mind flashed back to the oath stone where they had camped during the journey from Iskalt to Snakavik. She had seen an image of this carved into the stone and scoffed at it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "We are walking through the saga-tales, now, Elvar thought.\n\nAgnar strode to the head of the column. He was dressed in his war gear, his iron and bronze-etched helm buckled upon his head. Again, no word had been said when they had risen and broken camp, but all had checked their weapons, donned their coats of mail if they had one, and buckled their helms on their heads.\n\n\"Onwards,\" Agnar called out, his voice loud and harsh, but falling dead in the woods, hardly carrying. He hefted his spear and gestured to Uspa, who stood a little ahead of them.\n\nThey walked on, horses neighing and cartwheels creaking.\n\nElvar was in the vanguard today, Agnar shifting the marching position of all of his crew daily, and so she walked with Agnar and Sighvat, Grend at her left shoulder. Biórr was close as well, walking with Ilmur the Hundur-thrall.\n\nThey moved on in silence, following a path that ran north-east through the woods, Elvar's eyes constantly flicking left and right, the movement of swaying corpses in the branches snagging and snaring the eye. It was unsettling. She picked up her pace until she was walking beside Agnar.\n\n\"Can you feel it?\" she said to him.\n\nAgnar glanced at her. His eyes were bright with excitement, but she could see a tiredness deeper within him, almost exhaustion, with dark pools around his eyes, his skin pale and red-veined, a hunch beneath his bearskin cloak to his shoulders and frame.\n\n\"I can feel something,\" he said, \"though I do not know what it is.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The presence of the gods?\" Elvar wondered out loud.\n\n\"But they are all dead,\" Agnar said. He looked around. \"At least, I hope they are.\"\n\n\"Aye, but we are close to where they died. Their blood spilled on this land, soaked into the ground we are treading. Perhaps something of them still lingers.\"\n\n\"I hope so. Their bones and their power, that we can harness or sell.\" He flashed a grin at her. \"We will be rich beyond all imagining, our fair-fame known throughout all Vigrið and the world beyond.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Elvar said, Agnar's smile and excitement infectious, banishing the sense of dread and unease that had been building within her.\n\nHis eyes lingered on her. \"You are... happy?\" he asked her, hesitantly. \"With him?\" His eyes flickered to Biórr.\n\n\"I am,\" Elvar said, her own grin spreading.\n\n\"You sound happy enough,\" Agnar said. \"Your humping behind the carts each night has been keeping me awake.\"\n\nElvar flushed.\n\n\"I am glad that you are happy,\" Agnar shrugged. \"And I am glad you are here, part of the Battle-Grim. You area fighter, no question of that, but you are an oath-keeper, too. Someone to be trusted. That is a rare thing in this world.\" He looked at her, no smile, eyes serious. Elvar did not know what to say. Agnar just nodded to himself and they strode together in silence.\n\nThey were walking up a slow, gentle incline, the trees around them thinning. Elvar felt the gentle flicker of something on her cheek, looked up and saw it was starting to snow. Uspa walked ahead of them, leading their column. She reached the top of the incline they were climbing and stopped. Agnar broke into a run to reach her and stopped, staring at something over the ridge." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Behold, Oskutreð,\" Uspa said.\n\nElvar felt her heart quicken in her chest and broke into a run. She stumbled to a halt as she reached the crown of the slope, and stared.\n\nA wide, treeless valley opened up before her, rolling in all directions as far as her eyes could see. The undulating ground was covered with snow, here and there tugged by the swirling wind. Great mounds lay scattered across the plain, covered in earth and moss and snow. Elvar saw the gleam of rusted steel, the glint of yellowed bone. Other shapes, the twisted and blackened branches of a tree, but longer and thicker than a drakkar, lay strewn across the plain.\n\nStraight ahead and set deep into the plain like the iron boss of a huge shield stood the stump of an ancient tree, blackened as if lightning-struck, wider than the fjord of Snakavik.\n\nSnow fell from the sky, gentle and cold as winter's first kiss, the lights of the guðljós flickering behind the clouds, and behind or beneath it all there was a sound, a dull thud, more a feeling than a sound, vibrating through Elvar's bones.\n\nThere were gasps as other Battle-Grim reached the ridge and stopped, staring. The creak of carts and whinnies of horses.\n\n\"It is a saga-tale made real,\" Sighvat sighed.\n\nGrend stood silent at Elvar's shoulder.\n\nIlmur and Biórr ran on a few steps, both grinning like bairns on their name-day.\n\nUspa's eyes swept the plain, a frown etched deep into her brow.\n\n\"Not much of a tree,\" Sighvat huffed as he reached them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It was burned and broken in the last battle,\" Uspa said.\n\nThat makes sense, Elvar thought, though in her mind she had expected to seethe Ash Tree rearing impossibly tall and wide.\n\n\"On,\" Agnar said, his eyes alight, back straightening, exhaustion falling from his frame like a discarded cloak.\n\nThey moved on, a fast march now, down a gentle slope and onto level ground. Elvar looked down and saw that it was not snow that coated the ground, but ash. Grey flakes stirred and swirled as they moved through them, sticking to Elvar's boots and leaving footsteps where no one had trod for three hundred years. Elvar passed by a hundred ash-covered shapes, her urge to run and uncover what lay beneath each one overwhelming, but the broken stump of the tree seemed to call to all of them, drawing them across the plain like a rope-hauled drakkar.\n\nAnd then Elvar saw a mound to her right, large as a mead hall, lying stretched upon the ground. Moss and ash lay thick upon it, but agleam drew Elvar's eye, like a hook in fish's mouth. She veered away from the column, Grend calling her name and then following. Elvar stopped before the mound, staring up at it, and stabbed her spear into the ground. It towered over her, larger than her father's hall at Snakavik, and as wide. A looming entrance curved and draped with vine stood before her. She took a step inside and peered into the darkness. A smell wafted out, of decay, and with it a sense of unbridled malice, of blood and savagery so strong that it snatched Elvar's breath away. A wave of fear rippled through her, thick and palpable and she stumbled back, out into the daylight. She breathed deeply, and let the gently falling snow cleanse her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Can you feel it?\" Elvar asked Grend, who was stood beside her, scowling into the dark maw before them.\n\n\"Aye. Violence deep as the marrow,\" he muttered. \"It is putting a trembling in my bones, making me want to kill something.\"\n\nElvar drew her seax and scratched at a small section of the moss and lichen-covered entrance, a curved beam, like a giant whalebone and long as two spears. Slowly the accumulation of detritus fell away, the decades of ash and moss and growth scraped clear by her blade, revealing the glint of something old and yellow.\n\nElvar stepped back.\n\n\"It is a tooth,\" Grend said. \"A wolf's, or a bear, I think.\"\n\n\"It is Ulfrir,\" Elvar breathed, stumbling away, looking again at the mound. And she could see it now, as she put some distance between her and the mound: the outline of a huge wolf's skeleton, lying upon its side, limbs sprawled, jaws wide in one last defiant howl or snarl. Moss and grass and ash covered it like anew pelt. Close by something glinted in the ground and Elvar nudged it with her toe, saw that it was a lump of iron jutting from the earth. A curve in it showing forge-craft before a sharp break.\n\n\"A link from Ulfrir's chain?\" Grend said, frowning.\n\n\"Aye,\" Elvar said, remembering again the oath stone they had camped beneath, and the image of the wolf snared and bound by a chain, jaws wide as it howled while warriors swarmed it, stabbing with sharp steel.\n\n\"Come away from it,\" Grend said, and took Elvar's arm, guiding her back to the column of the Battle-Grim. Elvar tripped and stumbled over something, saw the glint of rusted steel, an ancient sword held in a skeleton's grip, but Grend steadied her and led heron, back to the column." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We have found Ulfrir's bones,\" Elvar blurted, her voice a rush, words tripping in her excitement and awe.\n\n\"The Ravener,\" Uspa nodded, glancing back at the wolf-shaped mound. She did not stop, though, leading them on across the plain, winding through the mounds and hillocks, until they were close to the blasted stump of Oskutreð, the great tree. Agnar held a fist up and the column drew to a halt. He strode on, Uspa and Sighvat at his side, Kráka, Ilmur and Biórr behind them. Elvar did not hesitate, but followed after, Grend padding beside her.\n\nElvar stared at the blasted stump of the ancient ash tree, wide as a lake, stretching jagged and sharp across the ground. The remains stood high as a mead hall's wall, perhaps two men high. Something green against the blackened wood caught Elvar's eye and she stared at it.\n\nIt was a sapling, the trunk as wide as a normal ash tree, boughs with green leaves sprouting upon it. New life, among the ash-grey wasteland. And into the tree's trunk the likeness of a woman was carved, with flowing hair, a sharp jaw and wide, somehow-knowing eyes, a wooden staff in her hand.\n\nBeside the new tree there was a flattened area of the ancient, fire-blasted trunk, that Elvar could have stepped onto. Filling much of the base and as wide as her father's feasting hall was the outline of a great trapdoor, bolted a hundred times. As Elvar looked at it she could see a faint, rhythmic tremor running through the door like a pulse, as if the tree had a heart that was beating, deep within the ground." }, { "from": "human", "value": "They threaded closer, their path taking them towards the living tree, winding around what looked like huge, shattered branches until Uspa stopped before the last one that separated them from the stump." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elvar joined them as Agnar and his small band stared at it.\n\nElvar blinked, suddenly realising what it was.\n\nA giant's head, bigger by far than Hrung's head in her father's hall. And it looked to be carved from wood. Dry and dark as charcoal. Ashes lay thick in the carving's eyes and mouth, which was open and stretched in a rictus scream. What Elvar had taken for branches nearby were in fact its body and limbs, broken and blasted, twisted, hands and fingers grasping.\n\n\"That is my mother, Aska, the Froa of Oskutreð,\" a voice said, like the creaking of branches and rustle of leaves. Elvar and the others started, looking around and reaching for weapons.\n\nUspa saw her first.\n\nThe woman carved into the tree was moving. There was a cracking of bark, a splintering sound and she was stepping out from the trunk. She stood there a moment, stretching, a series of crackles through her limbs; she tilted her neck and there was another crack.\n\n\"I have been waiting for you a very longtime,\" she muttered. Then she was walking towards them. Her hair swirled about her shoulders like roots as she took careful steps through the ash. Elvar and the others just stared, wide-eyed. Sighvat hefted his bearded axe.\n\n\"And who are you?\" Uspa asked.\n\n\"I am Vörn Askasdottir, Froa-spirit and newborn guardian of Oskutreð,\" the woman said. Now that she was closer to them Elvar saw that she was tall, taller even than Sighvat. Her skin was grey as an ash tree, dark grain running through her like veins. Bark rippled across her arms and legs; her torso was yellowed with lichen." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And who are you, that has come to disturb my sleep?\" she asked, pausing a dozen paces away and looking intently at them, head to one side, her gaze piercing. Her eyes touched Elvar and she took a step back; it felt like leaves and branches were brushing across her skin.\n\n\"The blood of the gods has faded in so short a time,\" she said, taking along, deep-shuddering breath. Her bare feet twisted in the earth, toes digging deep, like roots. \"Though they live on, still, faint as a whisper in some of your veins. Hundur the hound, Snaka and Orna, and Rotta, too.\"\n\nRotta? thought Elvar.\n\nVörn took another step closer to them, her face proud and strong. \"Why are you here?\" she said. There was a threat in her voice.\n\nAgnar stepped forwards. \"To gaze on Oskutreð and the Battle-Plain,\" he said. \"In the new world the remnants of the gods are valued. Prized. We would take some of them.\"\n\nVörn snorted, a twisted curl of her bark-covered lips.\n\n\"You are carrion-crows, then, come to pick the dead clean.\" She nodded to herself, then waved her staff. \"Disappointing. I had hoped for something... more. Never mind, just take what you will, but you cannot approach the dead tree. No hand may touch it, or foot tread upon it.\"\n\nSighvat grunted and stepped forwards.\n\n\"We have crossed the Isbrún Bridge, fought a swarm of vaesen,\" he said. \"And now that we are here, I'll not have some talking branch tell me what I can and cannot do.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Not another step,\" Vörn said to him, raising a hand, one long, twig-like finger waving at him, like a mother scolding her bairn.\n\nSighvat raised his axe and swung at her. He was tall, broad-shouldered and fat-bellied, but he moved faster than any would think by looking at him. His axe was a blur, hissing towards Vörn's head.\n\nA whispered word, a blurred movement and Sighvat's axe was crunching into her staff. It sank in away, wedged, Vörn holding it two-handed, eyes flashing with green fire.\n\nSighvat yanked on the axe but it stuck fast.\n\nA twist of her wrists and Vörn ripped the axe from Sighvat's grip, struck him in the head with her staff and he fell like a poleaxed bull. He lay on the ground, groaning and bleeding. He shifted and tried to rollover.\n\n\"Rætur, sinum jarðarinnar, vaxa og binda þennan feita mann,\" Vörn breathed and the ground around Sighvat moved, rippling and twisting, as if a hundred serpents writhed and burrowed beneath him. Vines burst from the ash-covered soil, wrapping around Sighvat's body, drawing tight like fetters until he was held firm.\n\n\"I do not like axes,\" Vörn said. She glared down at Sighvat. \"Or the fat men who wield them.\"\n\nThe vines constricted and Sighvat groaned.\n\nVörn looked at Agnar and the others.\n\n\"Who else wishes to touch Oskutreð's sacred ground?\" she whispered." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "No one moved.\n\n\"Will you release him,\" Agnar said, crouching beside Sighvat and resting a hand on his chest, \"if I swear we shall not set foot on that tree?\"\n\nSighvat groaned and looked wild-eyed at Agnar.\n\n\"I don't like this, chief,\" he grunted.\n\nAgnar patted his vine-wrapped belly.\n\n\"When you are ready to leave, and you have kept your word,\" Vörn said. \"Then, I shall let this fat maggot go free.\"\n\n\"Heya,\" Agnar agreed, standing and stepping away. \"We want nothing from the tree, anyway. What would we do with the remains of a dead tree?\" He paused, looking back at Vörn. \"Why do you still guard it? What is there left to guard except ash and cinder?\"\n\nVörn did not answer him.\n\nThe distant tremor rumbled louder, the bolts on the carven door rattling, puffs of ash rising in small clouds.\n\n\"What is down there, in Oskutreð's bowels?\" Agnar asked.\n\nKráka stepped forwards.\n\n\"It is Lik-Rifa,\" she breathed. \"The saga-tales are true. The dragon is still caged deep within the roots of Oskutreð.\"\n\n\"Of course it is true,\" Vörn said. She scowled at them. \"And I vow to you, the only way for you to touch Oskutreð is over my dead and splintered trunk. That will not be easy. And even if you managed to see me defeated and broken, you would have to face the three sisters. They would not take kindly to the door being opened.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The three sisters?\" Elvar said, feeling her skin prickle, fear dancing down her spine at the thought of Lik-Rifa, the dragon-god, corpse-tearer, prowling in her prison chamber somewhere beneath their feet.\n\n\"Aye. Urd, Verdani and Skuld, Orna's and Ulfrir's daughters, gaolers of the dragon.\"\n\n\"That doesn't sound good,\" Sighvat mumbled from his prison of vines.\n\n\"You have my word,\" Agnar said, \"none of my company shall set foot near your dead tree. Come,\" he called to those around him, turning away and raising his voice. \"Let us do what we came for, and search this ground for the relics that will turn us into a saga-song of our own.\"\n\nThe Battle-Grim let out a cheer and emptied out the carts, taking spades and axes, sheets of stitched linen and poles, and began to search through the mounds scattered all around them. Exclamations and cheers rang out as relics were unearthed, bones and weapons, armour and jewels, all of it being collected and piled together, wrapped in the linen sheets and carried to the carts.\n\nElvar and Grend set to work, digging at a mound close to the head of Aska, the dead Froa. They uncovered the skeletons of two people, twisted together in death. Elvar saw the teeth of one were unnaturally long and sharp. Seaxes of steel were in their fists, gold and silver glinting on the hilts. Elvar tapped Grend to show him, and saw that he had dropped his spade and was staring into the distance, back the way they had come. She stood and stared.\n\nThrough the snow she saw figures were emerging from wooded slopes: people on horseback, and wagons, many, many wagons." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What is this?\" Vörn said as she stood over Sighvat's form. \"I wait three hundred years and see no one, and then you humans all come at once.\"\n\nElvar dropped her spade. The figures spilling down the slope towards them bore grey shields with the black wings of ravens upon them.\n\nIlska the Cruel had come." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Orka rode along a narrow path, a sharp slope falling away to her right. Far below the white-foaming headwaters of the River Drammur roared through a narrow spit of rock. In the distance she could seethe vale of Grimholt Pass, passing between the steep slopes of the Boneback Mountains that seemed to reach high as the sky. Orka could make out the line of a wall built across the vale, just a dark smudge from this distance, and behind it a hall and tower rising from an outcrop of rock. Smoke rose in thin columns from the fortress into a blue summer sky. Behind her stones shifted and spilled down the slope, Lif's horse neighing as the mare lost its footing. Lif called out as the horse slid, but then righted itself.\n\nThe path veered away from the river, up a sharp slope of loose scree, and then the ground levelled and Orka was dipping her head to avoid branches, riding back into more pinewoods. There was a sound of shingle sliding as Lif and Mord urged their horses up the path and then they were all in the woodland.\n\n\"Was that the Grimholt?\" Lif asked as he urged his horse up alongside Orka.\n\n\"Aye,\" she said.\n\nHe nodded and swallowed.\n\nShe felt it too. The time of reckoning was drawing in upon them. Frost glittered on the ground, and Orka spied along, thick thread of ice-reamed web in the boughs above them, shimmering as it caught a shaft of sunlight.\n\n\"Be alert,\" Orka said, scanning the boughs.\n\n\"What for?\" Mord asked, riding upon Orka's other side.\n\n\"Frost-spiders,\" Orka said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Berser's hairy arse,\" Mord muttered under his breath, his head twisting in a dozen different directions as he tried to look everywhere at once.\n\n\"Mord doesn't like spiders,\" Lif leaned and whispered.\n\nOrka stifled a smile as they rode on through the mountains.\n\nOrka squatted behind a rock and peered out at the Grimholt.\n\nShe was sat on a cliff edge, a steep slope draped in pine trees falling away to the River Drammur about fifty or sixty paces below her. To the north lay the Grimholt, set within a timber wall that ran across the river valley, taller than three men, anchored to the cliffs at both ends of the valley. Agate stood closed, armed men and women visible on the walkway upon the stockade wall. Mail and helms glinted in the sunlight. Behind the wall was an open space like a courtyard, ringed with outbuildings: stables, barns, a smithy, barracks and coops and pens. At the top of a gentle slope reared a thick-timbered hall with a green-turfed roof, smoke rising from a smoke hole, and at its rear a squat tower that hugged the cliff face, tall enough to command a view of the valley, both north and south.\n\nBeyond the hall, to the north, another wall stretched across the valley, looking to be identical to the southern wall. More figures walked upon it. Afire smoked and flickered in a brazier inside the gates, figures standing around it and warming themselves.\n\nThe river frothed and foamed through the valley, but anew route had been carved into the land, a horseshoe-shape curling away from the natural river course, clearly built for vessels to row close to the hall, a pier jutting out into the river from the courtyard. Two snekkes were moored there now, and a wide, flat-bottomed trader." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What now, then?\" Mord whispered beside Orka.\n\nOrka was muttering under her breath.\n\n\"What?\" Mord said.\n\n\"I count sixteen warriors,\" Orka said. \"On the walls and in the courtyard. Probably more in the hall, or off-duty. Then there will be thralls and craftsmen. Their families. And Drekr, with his crew.\"\n\nIf he is still here, she thought. He could be five or six days ahead of us, with the longer route we've been forced to take.\n\n\"Forty people in there, at least,\" Orka whispered to herself.\n\nToo many for me to kill.\n\n\"Well?\" Mord said. \"What now?\"\n\n\"Too many for my first plan, which was to walk in and kill them all, except one.\"\n\n\"I am starting to think that this is always your first plan,\" Mord said, shaking his head. \"It is what you did in Fellur, when you broke into Jarl Sigrún's chamber, and back at the inn in Darl.\"\n\nOrka shrugged. \"It is a plan I like,\" she said.\n\n\"Not overflowing with deep-cunning, though,\" Mord pointed out.\n\n\"No,\" Orka admitted. \"And deep-cunning is what we will need here. We watch awhile, see if there is any sign of Drekr. Any bairns. We wait,\" Orka said. \"Perhaps we will go in when they sleep.\"\n\n\"How?\" Lif whispered, staring down at the fortress.\n\n\"Over the wall, or swim up the river,\" Orka shrugged. \"Either that or we will need to lure some of them out, into these woods, and thin their ranks a little.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"How would we do that?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lif asked.\n\n\"Some kind of distraction,\" Orka muttered. Then she frowned and cocked her head.\n\n\"What is it?\" Mord asked her.\n\n\"Listen,\" Orka grunted.\n\nIn the distance, behind them, a sound filtered out from the trees.\n\n\"What is that?\" Lif said.\n\nIt was a raucous, grating sound, like a disturbed murder of crows flapping and squawking as they rose into the sky, but Orka thought she could pick out words in the sound.\n\nIgnore it. You have other things to worry about. The Grimholt. Drekr.\n\nThe sound grew louder.\n\nOrka looked to the gatehouse of the Grimholt. If they heard it, they would send people to investigate.\n\n\"Perhaps we have our lure,\" she said.\n\nThe sound grew louder, filling the pinewoods.\n\nOrka ground her teeth and snarled. Then she was creeping away from the cliff edge and striding into the cover of the trees. She took her spear from where it leaned against a tree beside Trúr. The gelding whinnied at her and she patted his neck. Then she strode into the pinewoods towards the sound.\n\n\"Where are you going?\" Mord called after her.\n\n\"To kill anyone who comes out of the Grimholt to investigate,\" she said.\n\nLif and Mord followed, Mord swearing under his breath.\n\nOrka ducked under boughs as the trees grew thicker and felt something brush her face, a sharp tingling sensation across her cheek and she looked up to see a hanging strand of frost-web. Twisting, she looking up, but the boughs above her were empty. She shifted her grip on her spear and walked on." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The ground sloped downwards, Orka moving north through the woodland, a voice in her thought-cage telling her that she was moving steadily closer to the Grimholt and west-running track she had spied from the cliff. There were more strands of frost-web in the trees, thicker, criss-crossing, making sunlight dance in fractured beams. The noise was deafening, now, the sound of boughs shaking and cracking, and as Orka walked deeper into the woods a word amid the clamour became clearly discernible.\n\n\"HELP!\" Terror-filled: over and over.\n\n\"Orka,\" Mord hissed. She glanced at him, saw fear in his eyes. \"It sounds... dangerous.\"\n\n\"This is Vigrið,\" she answered. \"Living is dangerous.\" And she marched on.\n\nShe heard Mord and Lif's voices behind her. It sounded like they were arguing, but she ignored them. After a few moments their footsteps followed her.\n\nThe sound was close: branches splitting, a voice screeching, a noise like a storm raging through the woods. And other sounds: a scuttling, scraping noise that echoed in the branches above her. It was darker here, the boughs above dense with frost-webs as thick as Orka's wrist. She pointed at trees and bushes for Mord and Lif to hide behind, then stepped around a tree and froze, taking a moment for her eyes to adjust and fully understand what she was seeing.\n\nShe was looking into a glade, with dappled sunlight falling in beams through a thin canopy. On the ground was a dead elk, flies buzzing, its belly opened, entrails glistening.\n\nAnd in the boughs above it was a black-feathered bird, huge as a horse. It was struggling and squawking, strands of frost-web stuck to its wings and body, wrapping around it. The more it struggled, the more enmeshed it became in the web, dragging on branches, bending them close to snapping, pine needles cascading like rain, black feathers fluttering down like autumn leaves." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Frost-spiders lurked in the trees, many of them, each one as big as a boar, eyes sparkling, venom glinting on icicle-like fangs." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They waited, none brave enough to risk the thrashing talons and beak of the raven, yet.\n\nAnd then one of them moved, a fat bodied, hoar-crusted creature with long spindle-legs, bright, glittering eyes and dripping fangs. It scuttled along a single strand of web that was curled around one of the raven's talons.\n\n\"HELP!\" the ensnared raven croaked, loud enough to make branches tremble and Orka's chest vibrate.\n\nAnother sound: branches cracking, a shower of pine needles, and then a black shadow was crashing through the canopy. Another raven, huge as Trúr. It was squawking as it beat its wings and flew at the frost-spider on the thread. One claw reached out and it was snatching up the spider, talons puncturing and shredding the bloated abdomen. White, mucus-like fluid exploded and rained out over the forest floor.\n\nThe raven dropped the eviscerated strands of spider-flesh and set to pecking and clawing at the web that ensnared its mate, who flapped and shrieked.\n\n\"STOP FLAPPING, YOU FOOL,\" the new raven rasped at the trapped one.\n\n\"BUT I'M STUCK, I'M STUCK, I'M STUCK,\" the bird in the web yelled.\n\n\"I KNOW, I KNOW, I KNOW,\" the newcomer yelled back.\n\nSpiders moved in the boughs, as if the trees had come to life. One ran across a branch above the free raven, who was beating its wings, half airborne, half clinging to branches with one taloned claw as it tore and ripped at the web around its partner. The spider dropped towards the bird from the branch on a strand of ice-web." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Orka's muscles twitched with the urge to move, to help.\n\nThis is Vigrið, she thought, a world of tooth and claw, where life is battle. Let nature take its course.\n\nA memory slipped into her thought-cage, her last night with Breca, when she had seen him saving the moth from the spider. She had said something similar to him.\n\n\"But that is not a good death, Mama,\" he had said in answer to her, as the spider had scurried towards the moth. He had looked at her with pleading eyes.\n\nWithout thinking Orka stepped forwards, set her feet and hurled her spear. It flew straight and hard, punched into the spider's head and burst out the other side. There was a spray of fluids and the spider dropped like a stone, legs curling.\n\nThe spiders in the trees all stopped moving, many glistening eyes snapping to focus on Orka.\n\nMord stepped out of the shadows and stood at her shoulder, his spear raised. Lif strode out and set himself at Orka's right side.\n\nEven the new raven paused in its web-ripping to look at them with one shiny, too-intelligent eye.\n\nThe spiders hissed. Then they began to move, a seething mass of shadowed, many-jointed limbs.\n\n\"What have you got us into?\" Mord said, fear a tremor in his voice. \"I thought we were waiting to ambush the Grimholt warriors?\"\n\n\"All plans go wrong,\" Orka grunted. \"Do this quick, and we can still hunt the Grimholters.\" She looked at the frost-spiders. \"Just don't let one of them bite you,\" she added.\n\n\"That's unnecessary advice,\" Mord said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What will happen if they do?\" Lif gulped.\n\n\"Your blood will chill and slow in your veins,\" Orka said, \"until you cannot move, and then they will puncture you and suck it from you, as if your body were a horn full of crushed ice and mead.\"\n\nLif shivered.\n\n\"So, their venom will not kill us?\" Mord hissed.\n\n\"Not usually,\" Orka said, her eyes fixed on the closest spider. \"Unless they pump too much of it into you. I saw a man's hand snap off at the wrist, once, because the blood in his veins had turned to ice.\"\n\n\"This is not encouraging,\" Mord breathed.\n\n\"Use your spears to keep them from closing,\" Orka muttered. \"Don't bean idiot and throw yours away.\"\n\nLike I did mine.\n\nShe drew a seax and axe, set her feet.\n\nA hissing from above and she looked up to see a spider speeding at her, dropping on a single thread from its spinneret.\n\nMord's spear stabbed into its open mouth, Lif's piercing its head. A gush of fluid as they ripped their blades free and the spider crashed to the ground, twitching.\n\nThe ravens went back to their web-ripping, the trapped one freeing awing. A spider dropped upon its head, but the free raven skewered the spider with its beak and threw it through the air to splatter against a trunk.\n\nThere was a thud of spiders dropping to the ground around Orka and the brothers, three or four of them, forelegs raised, fangs twitching. Lif leaped in front of Mord and stabbed, but two more jumped at Lif, forelegs lashing out, throwing him to the ground. Mord screamed and lunged with his spear, and Orka stepped in close, sliced through a leg with her seax and buried her axe into a cluster of eyes. It collapsed, jerking and hissing." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A scream came from Lif, on one knee trying to stand, a spider on his back, fangs sunk into his shoulder. Mord bellowed, rising in pitch, but he was slicing and stabbing his spear at two spiders as they spread about him, hissing. Lif's eyes bulged, his limbs turning blue and stiffening, and he toppled to the ground, shivering violently. Frothed ice dribbled from his chattering jaws. Orka darted in, chopping into the abdomen of the spider on Lif's back, the creature's legs jerking, and it fell away, hissing and frothing, liquid pouring from the rent Orka had made in its body, thick like soup.\n\nThen something slammed into Orka's back, throwing her to the ground. She kept hold of her weapons and tried to roll, but a great weight pinned her down. Afoul stench swept around her, of death and decay and putrescence. She twisted, thrashed with her blades and felt the seax bite, a malevolent hissing in her ear, something wet and ice-cold dropping onto her cheek. A glimpse of a huge, curved fang, green-white poison beading its tip, and many, many eyes.\n\nAnd then the spider was gone, the weight lifted, and Orka spun over and scrambled to her feet.\n\nOne of the ravens was flapping above her, the spider grasped in its talons, its many legs thrashing. As Orka watched, the raven's talons constricted and the spider burst apart, an explosion of skin and cartilage and fluid. The other raven was free, and it was flying at the spiders around Lif, claws raking their backs, thick slime erupting in the talons\" wake." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"MUCH THANKS, MUCH THANKS,\" the raven squawked at Orka and then the two giant birds were beating their wings and rising, crashing through the boughs in a burst of pine needles and sunlight.\n\nA handful of spiders were still moving in the boughs, two more on the ground. Mord stood over Lif, his eyes wild, movements stuttered and jolting as he thrust his spear at any spider that moved.\n\nOrka heard shouts in the woodland and saw the flicker of figures through the trees.\n\n\"Bollocks,\" she muttered. \"We need to getaway from here,\" she snapped at Mord.\n\n\"That's the best idea I've heard from you in along while,\" he snapped, a tremor in his voice, stabbing his spear at a spider scuttling in. He looked at Lif, still shivering and convulsing on the ground. \"My brother, will he live?\"\n\n\"Not if we stay here,\" Orka said.\n\nThere was a hissing, spraying sound and Orka looked up to see a spider hanging from a bough above her, spinning and turning a web between its legs. Orka shouted a warning as she leaped away, the spider casting the web into the air, floating down to drape over them.\n\nIt grazed her leg, sticking like pine tar to a ship's hull, and Orka fell, hacked and sliced at it, cutting it free, though some still clung to her calf, burning and numbing even through her wool winnigas and breeches. Mord was stumbling, web clinging to one arm and leg, waving his spear over his brother's twitching form. He was screaming. Spiders ran at him.\n\nOrka heard the sound of hooves drumming on the pine-needle litter, growing louder, and two riders burst into the glade: a tall, blond-haired man with an ash-knotted staff in his hand and a woman in mail behind him. She was leading a third horse with abound form unconscious and draped over the saddle, and a large chest strapped to it." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Carry on with the narrative as the plot partner.\nTags: fantasy, norse mythology, dragons\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: The Shadow of the Gods\nChapter: 51" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"MUCH THANKS, MUCH THANKS,\" the raven squawked at Orka and then the two giant birds were beating their wings and rising, crashing through the boughs in a burst of pine needles and sunlight.\n\nA handful of spiders were still moving in the boughs, two more on the ground. Mord stood over Lif, his eyes wild, movements stuttered and jolting as he thrust his spear at any spider that moved.\n\nOrka heard shouts in the woodland and saw the flicker of figures through the trees.\n\n\"Bollocks,\" she muttered. \"We need to getaway from here,\" she snapped at Mord.\n\n\"That's the best idea I've heard from you in along while,\" he snapped, a tremor in his voice, stabbing his spear at a spider scuttling in. He looked at Lif, still shivering and convulsing on the ground. \"My brother, will he live?\"\n\n\"Not if we stay here,\" Orka said.\n\nThere was a hissing, spraying sound and Orka looked up to see a spider hanging from a bough above her, spinning and turning a web between its legs. Orka shouted a warning as she leaped away, the spider casting the web into the air, floating down to drape over them.\n\nIt grazed her leg, sticking like pine tar to a ship's hull, and Orka fell, hacked and sliced at it, cutting it free, though some still clung to her calf, burning and numbing even through her wool winnigas and breeches. Mord was stumbling, web clinging to one arm and leg, waving his spear over his brother's twitching form. He was screaming. Spiders ran at him.\n\nOrka heard the sound of hooves drumming on the pine-needle litter, growing louder, and two riders burst into the glade: a tall, blond-haired man with an ash-knotted staff in his hand and a woman in mail behind him. She was leading a third horse with abound form unconscious and draped over the saddle, and a large chest strapped to it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Orka felt a thumping in her head, like an extra heartbeat.\n\nThe woman raised a horn to her lips and blew on it, ringing out through the trees.\n\nThe blond man took one look around the glade. He drew a small seax and sliced it across the top of his hand that gripped the staff, blood trickling between his fingers onto the wood, then he raised his staff and shouted.\n\n\"Starfsfólk valds, forn aska, brenna þessa frostköngulær, þessar fölsku álfar.\"\n\nFlames erupted on the tip of the staff, as if it were a torch, and the blond man spurred his mount at the spiders, stabbing his staff into them like a spear. The first spider trembled and shook as the flames touched it, the blue veins that ran across its abdomen turning orange and then red. The skin on its back began to bubble and melt away, flames bursting and erupting. The spider screeched and hissed as it died.\n\nOrka ran to Mord, limping with one leg numb and ice-touched. Mord spun around, waving his spear at her.\n\n\"Come on,\" Orka said, sheathing her seax and trying to get close to Lif so that she could throw him over her shoulder. Mord stared at her a moment, eyes manic. \"Mord, we need to leave now,\" Orka said to him, trying to keep her voice calm, as if it would drive out the fear and panic in his veins.\n\nHe is terrified, and yet has fought: has stood over his brother.\n\nMord sucked in a deep, quivering breath and lowered his spear.\n\nOrka stooped and swept Lif up into her arms, hoisted him over her shoulder and turned to run." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Figures loomed out of the trees: a woman in wool and leather following a hound, and warriors behind her, some in mail. Mord raised his spear and stabbed at a mailed warrior, his blade grating up their chest and plunging into their throat. The warrior stumbled, gurgled and fell away. Mord stood there, staring as other warriors ran into the glade and circled him.\n\nOrka hefted her axe and snarled, moving to cut a gap in the warriors around Mord.\n\nThere were hooves behind her and she turned and saw the blond man, his staff swinging at her. A crunch to the side of her head and she was spinning, Lif falling from her grasp, the ground rushing up to greet her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elvar shrugged her shield from her back and hefted it. All about her the Battle-Grim were doing the same as Ilska's Raven-Feeders spilled over the ridge.\n\n\"Tome,\" Agnar called, warriors moving, checking weapons, buckling helms. Elvar saw Agnar appraising the land. He shouted orders and warriors were jumping onto the driving benches of the carts, cracking whips and reins, the carts rolling into anew position.\n\n\"HERE, ON ME!\" Agnar yelled, standing between the carts and the huge mound that Elvar thought was Ulfrir-wolf. The Battle-Grim drew up behind Agnar, roughly two rows of twenty warriors, Agnar in the centre of the front row. Elvar pushed through to stand at his left, Grend taking his place at Elvar's side, his shield hanging loose. She saw Huld and Sólín in the front row, sword and long seax in their fists, and felt Biórr's hand on her shoulder behind her. She glanced back and smiled at him, though he looked grim, the flutter of coming battle in his eyes, fear and anger mixed. There was a tremor in his spear. Warriors with long-axes and spears stood in the second row, with more room for stabbing or hacking over the heads of those in the front.\n\n\"What's happening?\" Sighvat called out, struggling in his bonds, trying to twist his head.\n\nAgnar unbuckled the brooch of his bearskin cloak, folded it over his arm and walked to the nearest wagon, carefully draped it over the cart's bench, then walked back to the centre of their line.\n\nBehind them Elvar heard Vörn moving, the unsettling rustle and creak of branches. The Froa-spirit was climbing upon to the head of her dead mother." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"A battle? Excellent,\" Vörn said as she sat and made herself comfortable from her vantage point. \"You have no idea how boring the last three hundred years have been.\"\n\n\"A battle!\" Sighvat cried. \"Let me up.\" He struggled, twisting and writhing.\n\n\"Be silent, fat man,\" Vörn called down to him. A muttered word from her and a vine snaked over his mouth and pulled tight.\n\nIlska and her warriors were closer, now, and the Battle-Grim stood in silence as they approached through the snow, across the plain of ash and bones. Fifteen riders rode at their head, all in oiled brynjas, all with raven-black hair. Maybe three-score warriors marched after them, and behind them rolled a dozen carts, warriors sitting on their benches, linen covers stretched upon the cart-bed's frames, hiding what was held within.\n\nIlska rode at their head, black hair wind-whipped behind her, like her raven-winged banner. She wore a fine brynja and held a spear in her fist, her sword and helm hanging at her belt, a dark cloak across her shoulders and around shield slung across her back. Either side of her rode two men, both in coats of mail, both dark haired, like Ilska, the look of kin about them.\n\nBrothers to Ilska? Elvar wondered. One of them Elvar had seen before, standing in the stern of the Raven-Feeders'drakkar as it had rowed out of Snakavik's harbour: a warrior, tall and hulking, with the sides of his head shaved like Agnar's and along-axe in his fist. That axe was slung over his back now. The other warrior was black-haired and hunched with muscle, clothed in mail with a hand-axe hanging at his belt. His face had four livid scars running through it, as if he had been clawed by a bear." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Ilska raised a hand and the riders reined their mounts in, the warband and carts behind them rippling to a halt." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The warriors spread behind her, forming a loose line, wider and deeper than the Battle-Grim. Ilska dismounted, handing her reins to a warrior in the line behind her and walked forwards, the two men either side of her dismounting and following after her.\n\nAgnar stepped forwards to meet them.\n\nElvar scowled. She was used to seeing Sighvat at Agnar's shoulder, and seeing him walkout alone seemed wrong. Without thinking she stepped out of the line and strode after him. There was a moment's gap, and then she heard the pad of Grend's footfalls behind her. And then another pair of feet. She glanced back and saw Biórr following after her, concern on his face. Elvar liked it.\n\nIlska stopped and waited.\n\nCloseup, she was older than Elvar had realised. She had deep lines around her eyes.\n\n\"Surrender tome and I shall allow you and your warriors to live,\" Agnar said as he reached her, a grin on his face.\n\nIlska looked at him, hard and cruel. She snorted a laugh, but there was little humour in it.\n\n\"Your days are done, Agnar Broksson, chief of the Battle-Grim,\" she said, her face flat, her voice emotionless. \"Step aside or die.\" She shrugged.\n\n\"I was here first,\" he replied, still smiling, as if he were just chatting over a game of tafl. \"Besides, I am glad that you are here. I have sworn a blood oath to find you, so you have made my task easy.\" He raised his hand, looking at the white scar that wound around it, then looked over his shoulder at his warband. \"My oath will be fulfilled to you this day,\" he said to Uspa." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Seiðr-witch dipped her head to him, then stepped around the warband and walked to them.\n\n\"Ilska,\" she said, a familiarity in her voice, and a hatred. \"My son?\"\n\n\"He lives, Uspa,\" Ilska said.\n\n\"Give him back.\"\n\n\"No. He will change the world. As you could have done.\"\n\n\"It is not the way,\" Uspa said, a deep sorrow in her voice. \"Please, do not do this.\"\n\n\"Enough,\" Agnar barked at Uspa. \"There will be no pleading, no bargaining. We will take your boy back from these niðing child-stealers,\" he said, his smile gone, iron and steel in his voice. He looked over Ilska's shoulder to her warband and sniffed. \"My Battle-Grim will make a fine song of this. Of you and your Raven-Feeders.\"\n\n\"A song that they will not hear sung,\" one of the men at Ilska's shoulder growled, the one with the long-axe. \"You and your Battle-Grim will be food for ravens soon enough.\"\n\nAgnar shifted his gaze to him, and took his time to look the huge warrior up and down. \"Best be silent when your betters are talking,\" Agnar said to him.\n\nThe man took a step forwards, his hand reaching for his axe. Ilska held a hand up, slapped his chest and he stopped.\n\n\"We have work to do and little time to waste,\" she said, her eyes flickering to Vörn the Froa-spirit, perched upon her mother's head, then back to Agnar. \"A holmganga to resolve this, Agnar Broksson,\" she said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You would risk all on a duel, when you outnumber us?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Agnar said, raising an eyebrow.\n\nElvar was surprised, too. Despite Agnar's words, it was clear that they were in the weaker position: the Raven-Feeders outnumbered them, and their reputation was formidable, so to suggest a duel that would level the odds to one on one, that seemed foolish.\n\n\"I value my people, as no doubt you value yours,\" Ilska said. \"My Raven-Feeders will win, there is no doubt of that. But this way, the only death on this field will be yours.\" She shrugged.\n\n\"So, you would fight me?\" Agnar said.\n\n\"Not I,\" Ilska said. \"My brother, Skrið, has begged for that pleasure.\"\n\nThe warrior with the long-axe smiled.\n\n\"Him?\" Agnar said with a twist of his lips, then he laughed. \"I accept.\"\n\n\"Good,\" Ilska said, turning on her heel. \"Skrið, make it quick. Drekr, with me,\" she snapped at the scarred man. He stood there a moment, looked from Agnar to Elvar, from Grend to Biórr, then gripped his brother's arm and squeezed it before striding away after Ilska.\n\nElvar hesitated a moment, then leaned into Agnar.\n\n\"Kill this arseling,\" she whispered. \"We have a saga-tale to make.\"\n\n\"I'll see you after,\" Agnar said, not looking at her, his eyes fixed on the bulk of Skrið, and then Elvar was walking away, Grend and Biórr following her.\n\nShe settled into Agnar's position in the front row of the Battle-Grim and looked back. Skrið shrugged his axe from his back, gripped it two-handed and swung it around his head, loosening his shoulders. It hissed through the air, snatching snow into its swirling wake. His dark brynja rippled and gleamed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elvar looked along the line of the Battle-Grim and saw the tension and excitement she felt in her own bones mirrored in those about her. Huld held the bear-claw around her neck; Sólín's white-knuckled hand gripped her sword hilt; Biórr tugged on his neat beard; others were restless, shifting.\n\nBehind them Vörn the Froa-spirit frowned, was sniffing the air.\n\nAgnar had his shield held loosely in his hand. He drew his sword with hardly a sound, the blade shining with the oil and grease from the scabbard's sheepskin liner. He looked back at the Battle-Grim, saw Elvar and winked at her, then he fixed his gaze on Skrið, set his feet, hefted his shield and gave his sword a lazy turn with his wrist.\n\n\"Come on then, big man,\" Agnar said. \"See if you can earn your battle-fame this day, and stand against Agnar Battle-Grim.\"\n\nSkrið's lips moved into a twisted snarl, and Agnar laughed at whatever the hulking warrior had said. Elvar felt a flush of pride for her chief, for his boldness and wit, even as he must surely feel death's raven-wings flapping above him. Agnar was not a small man– rather, he was tall and broad– but Skrið towered over him, like a bear over a wolf.\n\nElvar whispered a prayer, though there were no gods left to pray to.\n\nExcept for the dragon beneath her feet.\n\nLet Agnar win. Let Agnar win. Let Agnar win.\n\nThe muted pounding beneath the ground beat on, like a war drum keeping time, faster now, as if it sensed the imminence of violence, the proximity of blood and death." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Skrið stepped forwards and swung his long-axe in a great, looping arc.\n\nAgnar stepped away, letting it slice harmlessly through air. He smiled at his opponent.\n\nSkrið did not pause. He strode in after Agnar, quickly fora big man, closing the gap between them, his axe whirling above his head, slicing again, lower. Agnar jumped away this time, stumbled on an ash-covered skeleton and Skrið rushed in, shifting his axe to a two-handed grip. There was a grunt as Agnar raised his shield, fighting for his balance. The axe's butt cracked into his shield, hard enough to smash a door from its hinges, sending Agnar stumbling back another few paces. Skrið followed, his hooked axe head darting forwards, catching the shield rim and tugging Agnar towards him. Agnar stumbled forwards and swayed to his left, the axe blade slicing across his cheek, blood leaking, and he chopped with his sword into Skrið's chest.\n\nBrynja rings sprayed and blood welled, but Skrið just grunted and slammed his axe butt into Agnar's shield again, sending him staggering back a few paces again, the sound of wood cracking. The axe whirled around Skrið's head and whistled down at Agnar, who side-stepped to the right, raising his shield. The clang of iron as the axe blade grated off Agnar's shield boss and deflected, sending the blade chopping into the ground.\n\nElvar grinned to see it, a move she had seen Agnar perform on the training field countless times. It was perfectly executed. She knew what Agnar would do next, even as the axe blade hacked into the ground with a burst of ash and earth." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Agnar pivoted on a heel and stepped in close, slamming his shield into the big man's face and slicing his sword across Skrið's thigh as he stepped away, out of range again.\n\nSkrið stumbled back, spitting blood from his bloodied mouth.\n\nA gasp erupted from the Raven-Feeders, a cheer from the Battle-Grim.\n\n\"I can almost hear the skálds singing,\" Agnar said, a smile on his face as he followed Skrið, who retreated a few steps, limping, blood sheeting down his breeches from the cut in his thigh, just below the links of his mail coat. \"Of the death of Skrið the Witless, the giant who thought he could kill Agnar Fire-Fist.\"\n\nHe moved in on Skrið with small steps, left and right, always closing in, and Skrið shuffled back a few paces.\n\nElvar grasped Grend's arm, the scent of Agnar's victory so close. She glanced beyond Agnar and Skrið and saw Ilska and her brother, Drekr, watching. Ilska looked almost disinterested.\n\nSkrið stopped retreating and straightened. Smiled with bloodied teeth. Elvar frowned. Something... changed about him. He looked at Agnar and hefted his axe. A glint of red flashed from his eyes.\n\nAgnar hesitated.\n\n\"He is Tainted,\" Elvar hissed.\n\nSkrið moved, surging forwards more quickly than Elvar could follow, his axe swinging, too fast for Agnar to side-step, too powerful to defend against. Agnar raised his shield and took the brunt of the blow, the axe bursting through the linden-wood in an explosion of splinters, slicing into his arm. Skrið ripped the blade free in a spray of wood and blood, dragging Agnar with it. Agnar's shield was rent, half-shattered in his fist. He stabbed with his sword, a short, powerful blow, but Skrið was already twisting away, Agnar's blade grating sparks across Skrið's mail. A short chop from Skrið, two-handed with his axe and the blade bit into Agnar's shoulder, ripped down his chest, mail links shattered, a spurt of blood and a scream as Agnar dropped to his knees, sword falling from his grip, shield arm hanging limp. He stared up at the man towering over him, axe raised." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Food for ravens,\" Skrið snarled and swung his axe.\n\nAgnar dragged his seax from its scabbard and stabbed down into Skrið's foot. The big man bellowed, stumbled, his axe swinging wide, whistling past Agnar's shoulder. At the same time Agnar rammed his shattered shield up, long splinters stabbing into Skrið's throat, bursting out of the back of his neck.\n\nSkrið slumped and gurgled, blood jetting, and with a bellow Agnar heaved him away, Skrið toppling to the side, ash exploding around him, settling back upon him as he lay gasping and twitching beside Agnar.\n\nA silence settled over the plain, snow falling, ash swirling.\n\nElvar screamed and punched the air with her spear, the Battle-Grim letting out a triumphant roar, banging weapons on shields.\n\n\"AGNAR,\" they yelled. \"AGNAR!\"\n\nAgnar moved, half-rose, then slumped back down to his knees, gasping.\n\nIlska stared, face pale and twitching. Her brother beside her stood with his mouth open, stunned. Ilska took a step towards Agnar.\n\nElvar stepped out of the line and started to walk to him, then to run.\n\nBehind her Vörn shouted something.\n\nShe heard the sound of feet behind her, Grend following, and Biórr.\n\n\"DRAGON-BORN!\" Vörn shouted, and Elvar's footsteps faltered. She stopped, turned and looked at Vörn.\n\nThe Froa-spirit was standing upon her mother's head, pointing at the corpse of Skrið, her hair rippling like branches in the wind." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"DRAGON-BORN,\" she yelled." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I SMELL YOUR BLOOD. CHILDREN OF LIK-RIFA, YOU SHALL COME NO CLOSER!\"\n\nElvar stared, uncomprehending fora moment, then she remembered Skrið's eyes glinting red, his unnatural speed and strength.\n\nHe was Tainted: dragon-born. But... they do not exist.\n\nGrend reached her and slowed to stand with her, Biórr running onto Agnar.\n\nElvar turned, stared at Skrið's dead body lying in the ash beside Agnar, then at Ilska and Drekr, both striding towards Agnar.\n\nThey are kin, she thought: Ilska, Skrið, Drekr. She looked at the others who had ridden in behind Ilska, another score of warriors, all with crow-black hair. All of them are dragon-born.\n\nIlska stopped, staring at Vörn. She turned, waved a hand in the air and the carts at the back of their warband began to move, their drivers guiding them wide, around the warband, towards Vörn and the blasted remnants of the great tree. As they moved the linen sheets covering their cargo were ripped away, revealing scores of people sitting on benches in the cart's beds. Children. Iron collars glinted around their necks.\n\n\"Bjarn!\" Uspa cried out.\n\nBiórr reached Agnar and stood over him, the Battle-Grim's chief raising an arm to the young warrior, his mouth moving as he said something.\n\nBiórr raised his spear and stabbed it down, into Agnar's open mouth, down into his throat, and ripped it out. Blood sprayed, Agnar swaying, falling backwards." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elvar screamed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Orka woke to a rhythmic shaking, blinked and stared, trying to make sense of the world. The sound of water, fast-flowing, a timber wall, voices. A stabbing, thumping pain in her head, one side of her face wet. The iron scent of blood. She tried to move, but found that her hands and feet were bound. Then she realised she was slung across her horse Trúr's back like a trussed deer.\n\nShe twisted her head and caught a glimpse of the blond-haired man who had struck her with his staff.\n\nA Galdurman, she thought. He spoke words of power and his staff burst into flame. She could smell burned hair, and thought it was probably hers, where he had struck her.\n\nOther shapes moved around her: warriors on horseback, and others walking. Hounds loped alongside them. Shouts and the creak of gates, then they were turning, hooves on hard-packed earth, and they passed through an open gateway and into a wide courtyard.\n\nThe Grimholt, Orka thought. This is not the most deep-cunning way of gaining entry within its walls.\n\nThey walked up a gentle slope, following the curve of a channel carved from the river. Two sleek snekkes were moored to a jetty, their hulls freshly painted in yellow and black, Queen Helka's colours. Around the courtyard were a tangle of buildings. Barns, a forge, the clang of hammer on iron echoing. Stables, chicken coops, pigpens. Goats bleated and chickens ran clucking as the party rode through the courtyard. Then Trúr was stopping and Orka was being dragged from his back and slung onto the floor. She saw Mord, unconscious and bound, and Lif, still shivering and blue-veined from the frost-spider's venom, though his eyes were open and aware." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"If I cut your bonds about your ankles, will you be a good prisoner and walk?\" a voice said behind her. \"You're a big lump and I'm not getting any younger.\" She twisted and saw an older man looking down at her, his thinning hair close-cropped, and a white beard, a scar running through a large, lumpy nose.\n\nOrka nodded. She heard the rasp of a seax being drawn and the rope binding her feet was sawed. Arms pulled her upright.\n\nShe stretched, clicked her neck and looked around.\n\nThe Galdurman was dismounting, the warrior with him. A blonde-haired woman took the reins and rode on towards stables, leading another horse with an unconscious woman slung over its back and a chest tied to its saddle. Orka winced as she looked at them, the pain in her head throbbing harder.\n\n\"No time for sight-seeing,\" the white-haired man said as he dragged on the rope about her wrists. Orka stumbled on, blood returning to her feet in a prickling, stabbing flood now the rope-binding was gone. Other warriors fell in about them as she was steered towards the wooden hall and tower, Mord and Lif carried between them. The hall had a roof of birch-bark and turf; the tower had wooden tiles pegged to the lathe-beams.\n\nMen and women paused in their work, thralls and craftsmen, all staring at Orka and the two brothers. A sound rang out from a barn close to the river.\n\nA child's voice, a cry.\n\nOrka stopped, staring at the barn.\n\n\"Breca,\" she croaked, discovering that her throat was dry and cracked.\n\nThe white-haired man pulled heron; another warrior prodded her back." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Breca?\" Orka said, louder.\n\n\"Move on, you big bitch,\" the warrior behind her snapped, and prodded her again.\n\nThere was the sound of a slap and a child's voice rang out again.\n\nOrka ripped her hands from white-hair's grip and turned, headbutted the warrior behind her, his nose bursting with a crack. He dropped to the ground, along-axe falling from his fingers. She kicked a woman in the knee as she stared at the fallen warrior, the woman doubling over with a yelp. Orka raised her bound hands and slammed them down onto the woman's head, sending her sprawling.\n\nA blow to Orka's shoulder spun her, the white-haired man glaring at her, slamming his spear butt into her belly. She felt another blow across the back of her legs, dropping her to her knees, and heard thuds and grunts as warriors closed about her, beating her with spear butts, punching and kicking. A boot connected with her chin and white light exploded in her head.\n\nOrka snapped awake, gasping, ice-cold water dripping from her face. She was hanging suspended: pain in her wrists that were tied tight and raised over her head, bound to an iron ring in a wall; her feet dragging on the floor. She took her weight and slowly stood, relieving the pressure on her wrists. Blinked and shook her head, water spraying.\n\nShe was in a room of the tower, judging by the view from a window through stretched and scraped animal skin. She glimpsed turfed roofs below, and the ice-glitter of the river. Mord and Lif were similarly restrained, tied to iron rings bolted into the wall. Afire burned in an iron brazier, and along table was sat against a wall, all manner of sharp and unpleasant looking tools spread upon it. A pair of tongs was heating in the fire. White-hair was there, along with broken-nose. He was leaning against a wall and had his long-axe back in his hands, and the woman whose knee Orka had kicked was stood in front of her. She turned away and limped across the room with an empty bucket. Others were spread around the room: a bald man wearing a pitted leather apron with rolled up sleeves standing by the fire, and the blond-haired Galdurman sitting on a chair by a door." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What were you doing lurking in the woods about the Grimholt?\" the white-haired man asked Orka.\n\n\"Just... travelling through,\" Orka muttered.\n\n\"Travelling through the Boneback Mountains, half a league from any road, in the middle of a frost-spider nest,\" he said.\n\n\"Got... lost,\" Orka grunted. She rolled her tongue around the inside of her mouth and felt a loose tooth. Spat a glob of blood. \"I'm a trader.\"\n\n\"A trader,\" white-hair said, smiling. \"Dressed in a fine brynja, carrying a spear, axe and two seaxes, and that's just you.\" He held up her weapons belt and dangled it. \"What is your trade? War?\"\n\n\"Vigrið is a dangerous place,\" Orka said. \"Best to be prepared.\"\n\nWhite-hair laughed and looked her up and down. \"I've seen your sort before, but never in a trader's market. More often across the rim of my shield, in the battle-fray.\"\n\nOrka shrugged. \"My father was a big man.\"\n\n\"You killed one of my men,\" white-hair said. \"Well, not you. Him.\" He pointed at Mord. \"Haga, wake him up.\"\n\n\"Aye, chief,\" the woman said, refilling her bucket from a barrel in the corner and walking to Mord. She threw it in his face and he woke spluttering and gasping. He shook his head, looked around and saw Lif, who was barely conscious, heaped in the corner on trembling limbs. Lif coughed and spat up ice-rimed phlegm.\n\n\"Brother,\" Mord said to him, worry in his eyes." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"He'll live,\" white-hair said. \"Those pale spiders like their meat alive, just not kicking. Now,\" he said, taking the tongs that had been heating in the fire and walking towards Lif. \"I can burn the ice from your veins, if you like.\" He held the tongs close to Lif, heat rippling in waves, then looked at Mord.\n\n\"So, who are you?\" he asked Mord.\n\n\"Fishermen,\" Mord said, still groggy.\n\n\"A-ha,\" white-hair laughed, \"so, the same question asked twice, with two different answers. Which is it? Fishermen, or traders?\" He looked from Mord to Orka. \"I think I'll take this one's eye, just to convince you I'm serious. And then I'll ask you again: Who are you and why are you here?\"\n\nHe moved the tongs towards Lif's face, who pressed himself into the wall, whimpering through his chattering teeth.\n\nMord yelled and thrashed in his bonds.\n\n\"Drekr,\" Orka said.\n\nWhite-hair stopped and stared at Orka. Frowned.\n\n\"I'm hunting a man named Drekr,\" Orka said. \"He stole my son, and I want him back. I was told Drekr was coming here.\"\n\nA look passed between white-hair and the other guards.\n\nThe Galdurman sat up straighter.\n\n\"Never heard of no Drekr,\" the white-haired man said.\n\n\"I heard a child cry out in the courtyard,\" Orka said.\n\n\"Just one of Rog's brats,\" broken-nose blurted, too quickly, Orka thought and she saw his eyes flicker to the Galdurman." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Drekr,\" Orka repeated. \"I tracked him to Darl, and then from Darl to here. My informer told me he trades in Tainted children, and that they pass through the Grimholt.\"\n\n\"Shut up,\" white hair snarled at her. \"Shut her up,\" he said, and the man with the rolled-up sleeves lifted a hammer from the table and walked towards Orka.\n\n\"I saw Drekr in an inn in Darl,\" Orka continued, staring only at the Galdurman, now. \"The Dead Drengr. He was meeting with Hakon Helkasson.\"\n\nThe bald man raised his hammer.\n\n\"Hold,\" the Galdurman said, and the hammer hovered in the air. \"Skapti?\" the Galdurman said, standing and frowning at the white-haired man.\n\n\"Don't know what she's talking about, Lord Skalk,\" Skapti said, though he could not hold the Galdurman's gaze.\n\n\"You fought at Svelgarth, did you not?\" Skalk said to Skapti.\n\n\"Aye, lord. With distinction. Was awarded this for my bravery,\" he said, gesturing to a silver arm ring around his wrist.\n\n\"Who gave it to you? Who led your warband?\"\n\nSkapti looked away, at the other guards in the room.\n\n\"Prince Hakon,\" he said.\n\nA silence fell in the room: heavy. Broken-nose shifted, taking the weight of his long-axe.\n\nSkalk saw. \"Try anything foolish, and I will burn the flesh from your bones,\" he growled at broken-nose. The warrior held his gaze a moment, shuffled his feet, then looked away. \"Now,\" Skalk said to Skapti, \"tell me: What is Hakon up to behind his mother's back?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Another silence, then Skapti sucked in a deep breath.\n\n\"We just let Drekr bring his... goods here. Sometimes he... stores them here awhile, sometimes they go west, sometimes north. Orders from the prince were that we are supposed to let Drekr do as he pleases.\"\n\n\"Hhmmm.\" Skalk tugged on his blond beard, frowning.\n\n\"Is my son here?\" Orka growled. She felt the need for him deep in her bones, the possibility that he was close stirring her blood like heat boils water.\n\n\"Shut up,\" Skapti snarled at Orka.\n\nThe sound of shouts came from outside, the drum of hooves passing through the gates. Voices in the courtyard. Haga limped to the window and peered out.\n\n\"Riders,\" she said. \"Drengrs, some with Helka's eagle.\"\n\n\"Bring them up,\" Skalk said, and a warrior close to the door left.\n\nOrka knew who it was in the courtyard, or guessed who it was. She tested her bonds, the rope thick and tight about her wrists. If she stood on her toes, she could reach the knot with her teeth.\n\n\"Be still, bitch,\" broken-nose said to her.\n\nFootsteps sounded in the hall below, thudding up the stairs, and the door opened, the warrior who had left leading them. Behind him strode a drengr, a young man in mail with a sword at his hip, dark-haired with a pointed, dripping nose.\n\nMord made a sound in his throat: a growling snarl.\n\n\"Guðvarr,\" Orka muttered. Arild stood in the doorway behind him, more drengrs behind her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In the distance Orka heard a child scream.\n\n\"Is that my son?\" she snarled. Her blood was bubbling in her veins, a red mist beginning to filter through her thought-cage.\n\nGuðvarr stood and stared, taking all in the room in. His eyes settled on Mord and Lif and he smiled as he strode towards them, drawing his sword.\n\n\"Wait!\" Skalk shouted, but Guðvarr was already in motion, drawing his arm back and stabbing his sword into Mord's belly: deep, punching out of Mord's back in a spray of blood. He twisted the blade. Mord screamed and writhed.\n\nLif screamed in horror, spraying chips of ice.\n\nGuðvarr grabbed a fistful of Mord's hair and lifted his head to stare into his eyes.\n\n\"A weasel-turd niðing, am I?\" he said as he twisted his sword again, Mord's screaming rising in pitch.\n\nLif yelled and thrashed in his bonds as Guðvarr ripped his sword from Mord, releasing a tide of blood, Mord slumping, whimpering and mewling.\n\nAnother child's wail drifted up from the courtyard.\n\nSomething shifted, deep inside Orka, her consciousness and clarity sharpening between one heartbeat and the next. She felt her blood storming through her veins, the heat of anger changing, abruptly cold, primal, sweeping her body, fire and ice mingled. A flush of strength flooded her muscles, her vision sharper, senses keener. She lunged up and bit into the knotted rope that bound her wrists, her teeth suddenly sharp, ripping and tearing. The rope fell away.\n\nAll were staring at Guðvarr and Mord. Orka moved towards her weapons belt on the table." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Haga with the limp saw her first, dropped her bucket, reached for her spear propped against a wall and opened her mouth to shout a warning.\n\nOrka let out a howl as she swept up her weapons belt and drew her seax and axe, leaped at Haga, kicked the spear shaft and stabbed her seax up into the woman's belly, blood sluicing over Orka's fist, then shoved her away and rose in a storm of iron, bellowing, a rush of rage and power consuming her.\n\nAll around her warriors were yelling, drawing weapons. Guðvarr was shouting, stumbling away from Mord and Lif, towards the open doorway where more warriors crowded. Orka buried her axe in the skull of the bald man and wrenched it free as he fell back into the brazier, flaming embers scattering, fire erupting. Warriors came at Orka and she ploughed into them, laughing and howling as they screamed and died, then she found herself close to Lif and sliced the rope binding his wrists.\n\nHe reached fora fallen weapon.\n\n\"No,\" Orka growled. \"Stay behind me,\" she snarled at him, a warning, and then she was moving again, throwing herself into the warriors that crowded the room, though they hesitated now.\n\n\"Eldur logar björt,\" a voice cried out. It was the Galdurman, Skalk, and flames crackled into life on his staff. Orka hurled her axe at him, the blade spinning and slamming into his shoulder, sending him falling back into the warriors in the doorway, losing his grip on his staff.\n\nWarriors lined up against Orka, sword, axe, spears, all pointing at her. Seven, eight men and women in the room, more in the doorway and corridor beyond. She paused, set her feet, even the wolf in her blood knowing that there was no defeating these odds." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She smiled at them, a blood-flecked leer.\n\nA sound came from above: a ripping, tearing, cracking sound. Shouts and yells erupted from the warriors in the room, looking up.\n\nDaylight flooded in as a portion of the roof disappeared, ripped away in the talons of a huge raven, wings beating, a storm of wind in the room, fanning the scattered flames. Beams erupted in fire, crackling, smoke billowing.\n\n\"FAVOUR FORA FAVOUR,\" the raven squawked, and then a second raven swooped down, ripped more of the roof free and grabbed a warrior running at Orka in its talons, lifted him high and threw him, spinning and screaming, from the tower.\n\n\"FOUND YOUR FRIENDS LOOKING FOR YOU,\" the first raven cawed as it rose higher on beating wings, and two small shapes swept close, buzzing into the room in a blur of wings.\n\nOne landed upon a woman's shoulder, a chitinous, segmented body and a too-human face, bulbous eyes under grey-sagging skin, and a mouth full of too many sharp-spiked teeth. A tail curled up over its back, tapering to a needle-thin sting, which whipped forwards and stabbed the woman in the cheek.\n\n\"Finally, Spert found you, mistress,\" Spert said as the woman staggered and choked and dropped her sword, hands grasping for her face. Her veins were turning black, spreading from the sting in her cheek across her face like a diseased spiderweb, down her neck. She tried to speak, to scream, but her tongue was already black and swelling. She collapsed and Spert's wings buzzed, hovering and darting after his next victim." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Another small figure sped around the room on parchment-thin wings: sharp-clawed Vesli, with Breca's spear in her fist, stabbing it into faces as she flew.\n\nOrka smiled and growled, looking for new people to kill.\n\nBroken-nose came at her, shrugging his shoulders, hefting his long-axe, warriors parting to give him room. He swung a great looping blow at Orka, but she ducked beneath it and leaped close, stabbed her seax up under his chin and thrust with savage strength until the blade scraped on the bowl of his skull. He collapsed, twitching, dropping his long-axe. Orka left her seax lodged in his skull and caught the long-axe in both hands as it fell, felt its familiar and long-missed presence shudder through her body, like the touch of an old lover.\n\nShe kicked broken-nose's body away and stood before the warriors crowded in the doorway, Spert and Vesli hovering over her.\n\nA silence fell. All that could be heard was the crackle of flame, groans of the dying, heavy breaths of the living as a dozen warriors stared at her.\n\nThey turned and ran.\n\nOrka swept after them, swinging the long-axe, chopping, explosions of blood. Bodies fell tumbling down the tower's stairs, Orka still hacking at them, her axe rising and falling in a torrent of blows as she carved into them. When she blinked and looked up, shaking her head to clear the blood from her eyes, she found she was on the feast hall's steps, staring out into the courtyard, not knowing how she got there, and she was standing over corpses, gore-drenched, panting, snarling, wanting only to kill." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "More people were here: warriors, some running at her, more running from her, others leaping into the boats on the jetty, cutting frantically at mooring ropes. She glimpsed Skalk and Guðvarr there.\n\nAfresh pulse of rage and strength swept her as she glowered at them all, both the dead and the living. At these people who would keep her from her child.\n\nCut them, tear them, rend them, she thought.\n\nShe broke into a run, snarling, slavering, her long-axe rising." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elvar stood and stared. She distantly heard herself screaming; could not believe what she was seeing.\n\nBiórr stood over Agnar's body as he bled out into the ash and snow of Oskutreð's plain. Agnar's feet twitched, a last spasm rippling through him, and then he was still.\n\nBiórr stooped down beside Agnar, ripped the pouch from his belt and delved inside it, then stood and raised jangling keys.\n\n\"Ilmur, Kráka,\" Biórr cried out, \"you need be thralls no longer. Join us. Take your freedom.\"\n\nElvar looked back and saw Ilmur burst from behind the ranks of the Battle-Grim, bounding forwards across the ash-plain. Behind him came Kráka. She was running too. Ilmur sped past Elvar and Grend, and reached Biórr, who placed the key in the lock of Ilmur's thrall-collar and turned it, the collar opening with a click. Biórr took it from the Hundur-thrall, then held it out to Ilmur. He looked at it, grabbed it and hurled it away. Kráka reached them and Biórr did the same for her.\n\nElvar heard the clank of the collar hitting the ground.\n\n\"BETRAYER!\" Elvar screamed.\n\nBiórr looked at her.\n\n\"Join us,\" he said, holding a handout to her.\n\n\"Agnar,\" Elvar cried.\n\n\"He got what he deserved,\" Biórr snarled. \"A slaver, dealing in others' misery.\"\n\n\"Why?\" Elvar said.\n\nBiórr spread his arms wide." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Because I am Tainted, too,\" he said. \"Ilska protects us, gives us a home.\" His face bubbled with rage and anguish, tears in his eyes. \"We Tainted are human, too, are people of flesh and blood, can feel joy and happiness, pain and heartbreak. We are not animals to be hunted and sold.\"\n\nThe blood of Rotta that Vörn sensed among us, Elvar thought. Rotta the rat. Rotta the betrayer, deceiver, trickster.\n\n\"You killed Thrud,\" Elvar said, remembering Thrud's wound in the back, Biórr lying unconscious on the tavern floor.\n\nBiórr's face twisted with shame and guilt. \"I did not want to do that,\" he said.\n\nElvar took a step towards him, hefted her spear and hurled it at him. It flew straight and fast. Biórr raised his shield and stepped to the side, unnaturally fast, the spear slicing through the space where he had just stood.\n\nElvar drew her sword and strode towards him.\n\nGrend grabbed her arm and pulled her back.\n\n\"Look,\" he said, pointing with his axe.\n\nThe Raven-Feeders behind Biórr were marching forwards, drawing into lines, their shields raised.\n\n\"Let them come to us,\" Grend said.\n\nShe pulled against him, rage bubbling through her, at what Biórr had done, to Thrud, to Agnar, how he had made a fool of her. She snarled and spat, the thought of his blood spilling on the ash-covered ground raging through her.\n\n\"Stay here and you'll not avenge Agnar,\" Grend shouted at her, his knuckles white around her wrist. \"Stay here and you'll die.\" He pulled on her again. \"Face him in the shield wall, with the Battle-Grim about you.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elvar stared at him, snarled and nodded, then they were running back to the Battle-Grim, slotting into the front row and turning to face the Raven-Feeders.\n\nIlska was leading her surviving brother and the others who had ridden with her off the field, towards the carts and Vörn, who had leaped down from her mother's head, silently waiting. Elvar saw that Uspa had gone to stand close to Vörn.\n\nThe Raven-Feeders who had marched behind Ilska, over sixty warriors, were striding towards the Battle-Grim.\n\nElvar sheathed her sword and drew her seax, the blade almost as long as her forearm.\n\nThis will be shoulder to shoulder, shield to shield, knifework, seax work, a time of heave and stab, no room for sword skill. She was breathing heavily, could hear her heart pounding in her head, not from exertion but from shock.\n\nAgnar is dead. He had always been so full of life, of courage and energy. And he had won, slain Skrið the dragon-born in single combat, a deed worthy of a saga-song. It was too much for her thought-cage to comprehend: rage and grief raw and surging through her. She ground her teeth and hefted her seax, one side razor sharp, the broken back that tapered to the tip sharpened too.\n\n\"BATTLE-GRIM!\" a voice cried out: Grend, beside her. \"Be ready for the shield-storm, the battle-fray. These gutless worms are betrayers, carrion-feeders come to steal our gold and our glory. They have slain our chief like the niðing cowards they are. Time to show them what true courage and battle-fame is.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Battle-Grim roared a cold-hearted cheer.\n\n\"SHIELD WALL!\" Grend bellowed, and as one the Battle-Grim shuffled tight in their lines, raised their shields and pulled them in, a crack of linden boards as they set the wall, hide-covered rim pressed tight to iron boss, like the rippling scales of a snake. Elvar pounded the iron cap of her seax against her shield, Grend doing the same with his axe, all about them warriors following suit, beating a death march for the Raven-Feeders as they approached.\n\nThirty paces away, twenty, ten, and the Raven-Feeders halted. Elvar searched for Biórr in their ranks but could not see him among the faces before her, growling and spitting and hurling insults from behind the shield rims as they sought to summon their courage. In their eyes she saw pride, anger, and fear too. It is a hard thing to fight in the shield wall, where death is closer than a lover and the world condenses to the steel-fisted warrior before you: a place of snarling fury and gut-churning fear, of blood and shite and pain.\n\nShouts came from Elvar's right. She recognised Vörn's voice, and Uspa's joined to it. There was a flicker of flames, a flash of incandescent light, a tremor in the ground, and there was more screaming. A horse neighing and the sound of wood splintering.\n\nA cart? Elvar had no time to look. The Raven-Feeders roared and surged forwards.\n\n\"READY!\" Grend bellowed. Elvar saw the brightness of his eyes and the trembling in his limbs that took him when the battle-rage swept him. She set her feet, shoulder into her shield, Seax drawn back." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There was a concussive crack as the Raven-Feeders slammed into them, Elvar's shield battered, Grend beside her snarling. She felt the line wavering, a tremor through her shield arm, her feet scraping and sliding in the ash-thick ground as she fought to keep her place, heaving back against the immense pressure bearing down upon them. She knew that the Raven-Feeders outnumbered them, their wall at least three lines deep, all of that weight pushing and grunting and heaving against her. A gap opened between her shield and Huld's next to her. Elvar thrust her seax through it, felt the blade bite, and then hot blood slicked her hand. She shoved harder, twisted the blade and heard a scream, pulled her seax back and rammed the gap closed.\n\nTo her right Grend grunted and growled, chopping his axe over the top of his shield rim. She heard the clang of iron, saw a body slump to the ground, then shifted her weight and stabbed down into a glimpsed body, flesh bared above the neckline of a brynja, white, panicked eyes in a bearded face. Another scream cut short; the grate of bone and she dragged her blade free.\n\nBehind her a shield held her upright, one of the Battle-Grim stabbing over her head with a spear, and the weight against her shield slackened. Elvar pressed hard, set her feet and looked over the top of her shield. There was a gap as a warrior fell away, hands clasping at blood gushing from a hole in their throat. They sank to the floor, dragged away by someone in the second row, and another figure loomed, stepping into the gap before Elvar could press into it. It was a woman, a pitted iron helm on her head, a hand-axe in her fist, screaming death and murder. Elvar swayed away from the bearded blade as it chopped at her face, ducked and pushed, stabbed under the rim of her shield and sawed through winnigas and flesh, felt the blade grind on shinbone, sawed the seax back and then stabbed over the top as the axe-wielding woman hissed with pain and lurched on her injured leg. Elvar's seax stabbed into her open mouth. A gush of blood and a gurgled scream." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"AGNAR!\" Elvar screeched. \"BATTLE-GRIM!\" She heard the cry swept up around her and the battle-joy filled her, a wild strength in her limbs, a hot rage in her thought-cage, driving heron. More faces loomed before her: men, women, they appeared snarling and fell away screaming, her seax and Grend's axe reaping bloody ruin. The battle-storm raged around her, sounds merging, a deafening, roaring, muted din that echoed inside her helm as steel clashed, shields splintered and warriors screamed. All was blood and death. Slowly the strength leeched from her, pain pulsing from a score of cuts and bruises, her limbs heavy, shield arm numb, battered, muscles burning. She gasped ragged breaths, continued to stab and shove and stand. Beside her Grend was roaring, eyes bulging, spittle spraying from his mouth as he hacked and chopped and killed.\n\nSomething slammed into Elvar's shoulder: it felt like a punch, making her stagger. She saw a man diagonally across from her spitting curses, an ash-spear in his fist. She tried to stab back at him, but her seax would not rise, her arm not obeying. Looked down and saw his spear blade had torn through her brynja and stabbed into the meat of her shoulder. She shoved hard with her shield, pushed the warrior in front of her back a half-pace and the spearman pulled his weapon back for the killing thrust.\n\nElvar spat at him, knowing there was nothing she could do.\n\nThen Grend's axe smashed into his face, carving through nose and mouth. He ripped it free in a spray of blood and cartilage and teeth, the spearman falling away, a gurgled scream through his ruined mouth." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elvar swayed and took a step back, her legs buckling, and then an arm was wrapping around her, dragging her back, the line behind her parting, a warrior stepping forward to take her place in the wall.\n\n\"Let go,\" Elvar grunted at Grend, who was pulling her free of the shield wall, half-carrying her back into the open ground behind. She tried to lift her seax, saw she still gripped it in her blood-slick fist, but her arm wasn't doing what her thought-cage was telling it to do.\n\nGrend pushed her down so that she fell on her backside and satin the ash and mud, looking up at him. It was strangely quiet here, a dozen paces behind the wall, where battle was still raging. Elvar saw the Battle-Grim were holding. Here and there was a prone body, boots poking through, or a corpse lying still, dragged out of the way by the second row, but she could seethe Battle-Grim were gaining ground. Step by battered half-step they were pushing the Raven-Feeders back. Agnar had chosen his battleground well, the Ulfrir-wolf mound protecting the left flank, the carts arrayed to protect the right.\n\nGrend kneeled beside her and gave her his water bottle.\n\n\"Drink,\" he grunted and she realised her mouth was dry and sticky with ash and blood. She drank, swilled her mouth out and spat, then drank some more. Grend took a swig from the water bottle, then poured the rest over Elvar's wound, leaning close.\n\n\"Cut the muscle,\" he muttered. \"You'll have to fight with your left hand.\"\n\nElvar nodded. Grend had trained her since she was a bairn, drilled her in the weapon court at Snakavik until she could use both left and right with little difference. But she could not hold a shield as well." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Find a spear and kill them from the second row,\" Grend said.\n\nA high-pitched screeching erupted behind them and Elvar twisted, looking back.\n\nVörn stood beside Uspa, both of them side by side, barring the approach to the remains of Oskutreð. Uspa stood with her hands raised, a rune of fire glowing in the air before her, and a handful of warriors lay on the ground before Uspa and Vörn, some blackened and charred with flame, others looking like they had been torn to pieces, their wrists, ankles and necks wrapped with thick vine. Others stood impaled and slumped on branches that appeared to have just sprouted from the earth. Ilska and the surviving warriors were stood with her in a line facing them, all with bloodied fists. They were chanting, and runes of flame were igniting in the air before them, melding and glowing, flames leaping to the ground and spreading, speeding in a crackling line towards Vörn. They swept past Sighvat, who was still bound by vines to the ground, the fat warrior squirming and shouting.\n\n\"Greinar vernda mig,\" Vörn cried out, the ground before her shifting and bubbling, and vines punched free of the earth, knitted together like a wattle-fence in the fire's path, but the flames crackled and hissed and engulfed them, a wave of flame surging through the vines and on, snatching at Vörn's legs like hungry beggars.\n\nThere was a hiss and crackle and Vörn screamed as her feet ignited. Flames rippled up her legs, gouts of black smoke billowing, the stench drifting across the plain. Vörn batted at the flames, but they only spread, catching in her fingers and hair, her screams rising in pitch, and she gasped for air, mouth contorted. She swayed and fell, crashed to the ground, flames devouring her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ilska walked forwards, her dark cloak billowing behind her.\n\n\"Farðu frá,\" she said, as she squatted down and punched the ground. There was an explosion of ash and the ground bucked, a rippling line rushing away from her like a serpent hidden just beneath the waves. It slammed into Uspa, exploded beneath her and sent her hurtling through the air. She crashed to the ground and rolled, then came to a stop, unmoving.\n\nIlska stood and moved on, the surviving warriors behind her following, maybe seven or eight of them left standing, including Drekr. Other warriors were jumping from the carts' driving benches and dragging the children from the backs of the carts, hauling them towards the dead tree by ropes and chains. Seventy, eighty, ninety children, all with collars of iron about their necks. Elvar thought she saw Bjarn among them.\n\nIlska reached the blackened stump of Oskutreð and set her foot upon it, climbing upon to the open space where the huge, bolted door lay. Puffs of ash filled the air, the pounding beneath the earth rocking and rattling the door.\n\nThose that followed Ilska climbed upon to the blasted tree, the children behind them. Some cried and wailed; others walked silently, like warriors who have accepted their fate.\n\n\"Bjarn,\" Elvar croaked, her voice hoarse.\n\nShe saw him clamber upon to the tree, a collar around his neck, and join the others upon the giant trapdoor.\n\nIlska and the warriors with her shouted at the children, dragged them, commanded them until they stood in a circle, feet edging the line of the great door. The warriors from the carts joined Ilska's band, swelling their ranks. Ilska reached inside her cloak and pulled out a book. It was thick, wrapped in some kind of red hide. She opened it, then began to read." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Réttu upp hendurnar, þú verður að hlýða." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Spillað blóð í saklausu barni, sameinast og vaxa af krafti. Brotið rúnir og innsigli töfra.\" Ilska called out, and there was a flare of red within each thrall-collar about each child's throat, a ripple of fire. The children cried out, and their eyes glazed over. Each child raised their right arm, palm open.\n\nIlska drew a small seax from a scabbard across her back and sliced her hand that held the book, then slashed the palm of the child in front of her, and the ones to either side. They said nothing, made no move, did not cry out.\n\nAll of Ilska's companions did the same, cutting their own palms, then the hands of the children about them, until all of them stood there, bleeding, blood dripping onto the wooden door beneath their feet.\n\n\"Blóð drekans, lík rífa, voldugur, sameina og binda, brenna þessa hindrun, opna leið fyrir herra okkar,\" Ilska cried out, shaking her hand, droplets of blood spraying around her.\n\n\"Blóð drekans, lík rífa, voldugur, sameina og binda, brenna þessa hindrun, opna leið fyrir herra okkar,\" all those on the great tree cried out, echoing Ilska, shaking their hands, and blood rained down upon the ancient door, pooling, trickling through the cracks into the darkness beneath.\n\nElvar and Grend just stared, entranced, even as the battle still raged behind them.\n\nThe constant pounding beneath the earth stopped abruptly, as if a giant had sucked in a deep breath and held it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "And then there was a crash, the huge door on the tree jolting." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ilska staggered, some of the children falling.\n\nA huge, muted roar leaked out from the cracks around the door, vibrating in the soil, deeper than an ocean storm, other voices joining it, higher in pitch but fierce and proud. Screams. Roaring. A growing, rumbling thunder.\n\n\"RUN!\" Ilska shouted, finding her balance and breaking into movement, sprinting and leaping from the tree's stump. All those around her were doing the same: Ilska's followers, children, a flood of people.\n\nSomething crashed into the trapdoor and there was a great splintering, cracking sound, a cloud of dust and ash rising up, engulfing all still on the tree as they were hurled into the air. Ilska was thrown from her feet, the red-skinned book spinning from her grip. A silence. Elvar holding her breath, staring, and then there was another crash beneath the door, huge splinters of wood erupting, the ground shaking like a ship in a storm-wracked sea.\n\nElvar and Grend were thrown into the air, a tremor passing beneath them like the ripples of a boulder hurled into water, throwing the fighting shield walls into chaos, men and women falling, staggering.\n\nAnother silence, like a held breath, and then the door exploded, splintered wood and bodies tossed skyward, disappearing in an expanding shroud of dust and ash and debris. Elvar was heaved from her feet, weightless, the rolling cloud engulfing her. She crashed to the ground, tumbling, came up against something solid, knocking the wind from her, then just lay there, coughing and wheezing as the dust settled around her, searching for Grend. He was nowhere to be seen, bodies everywhere, scattered like chaff on the wind." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "From the centre of the dust storm, deep within the earth, screams echoed. A roar of pain. The earthshaking. Voices shouting.\n\nA figure burst from the smashed-open doorway, spinning through the air, rising high and then falling, crashing to the ground a hundred paces away from Elvar and rolling, coming to a standstill. A winged woman. She was red-haired, rust-feathered wings draped around her; her body was wrapped in a coat of mail that glittered like fish-scales, a scabbarded sword at her hip. She groaned. Elvar just stared at her, open-mouthed.\n\nA roar burst out from the shattered door, rolling across the plain, filling it until Elvar put her hands over her ears, afresh cloud of dust roiling out. The hint of something huge moved within that dust cloud, and a darker shadow emerged from the earth.\n\nAnd then Lik-Rifa, corpse-tearer, dragon, last of the dead gods, burst into the air.\n\nElvar lay on the ground, slowly took her hands from her ears and sat up, staring.\n\nA stench rolled across the plain, of something long dead, of death and destruction and age-old corruption. Lik-Rifa beat her tattered wings, the turbulence of their motion buffeting Elvar and all those around her back to the ground. The dragon's body was thin and emaciated, ribs stark through pallid scales, almost white and translucent with dark patches of rot and weeping yellow pus. Her jaws were wide and razored with teeth longer than spears, pale horns rowed and curling upon her head. Maniacal eyes blazed red with feverish intensity, like a forge-lit fire.\n\nIt was hard to tell how big she was, up therein the sky, but when she spread her wings she blotted out the wan sun that gleamed behind the clouds. Small shapes dangled from her wings and body, snagged and snared upon her scales. Elvar realised they were corpses, flesh-rotted and putrefying." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Two smaller figures burst from the ruin of the broken door, both winged, like the woman who had crashed to the ground close to Elvar." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "One had golden wings and blonde-flowing hair, a spear in her fist; the other had white-feathered wings and silver-bound braids in her hair, a nocked bow in her hand and a sword at her hip. They beat their wings and spiralled up after the soaring dragon, the white-winged woman loosing arrow after arrow. They speckled the dragon's side, small eruptions of white flame where they pierced her, and the dragon roared her pain, tucking awing and looping in the sky. Her huge, razored tail lashed out but the winged figures soared around it, continued to stab and pierce the dragon's hide with spear and arrows.\n\nThe golden-winged woman screeched like an eagle and flew at the dragon, raked her spear along Lik-Rifa's belly, scales and blood raining down. The dragon let out an agonised roar and twisted in the air, head snaking out on a serpentine neck, jaws snapping at the woman, who veered. There was a spray of feathers as dragon teeth snagged awing and the woman crashed into the dragon, her spear plunging deep into the beast's neck, blood sluicing. Lik-Rifa let out a scream that sent Elvar huddling back to the ground with her hands over her ears. The dragon twisted and spun in the air, one tattered wing slapping into the bow-wielding woman, sending the bow flying and the woman hurtling away. The warrior with the injured wing clung to the spear in Lik-Rifa's neck and drew along knife from her belt, then started stabbing into the dragon's throat. Another screech and Lik-Rifa was spiralling and diving, speeding towards the ground. There was an explosion of earth and ash as she crashed to the surface, skidding and ploughing through a wagon, timber smashed to kindling, the horse bound to the cart thrown on its side, neighing wildly, legs broken. A great dust cloud rose up about the dragon and woman." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Assist with the plot and keep the story going.\nTags: fantasy, norse mythology, dragons\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: The Shadow of the Gods\nChapter: 54" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Two smaller figures burst from the ruin of the broken door, both winged, like the woman who had crashed to the ground close to Elvar." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "One had golden wings and blonde-flowing hair, a spear in her fist; the other had white-feathered wings and silver-bound braids in her hair, a nocked bow in her hand and a sword at her hip. They beat their wings and spiralled up after the soaring dragon, the white-winged woman loosing arrow after arrow. They speckled the dragon's side, small eruptions of white flame where they pierced her, and the dragon roared her pain, tucking awing and looping in the sky. Her huge, razored tail lashed out but the winged figures soared around it, continued to stab and pierce the dragon's hide with spear and arrows.\n\nThe golden-winged woman screeched like an eagle and flew at the dragon, raked her spear along Lik-Rifa's belly, scales and blood raining down. The dragon let out an agonised roar and twisted in the air, head snaking out on a serpentine neck, jaws snapping at the woman, who veered. There was a spray of feathers as dragon teeth snagged awing and the woman crashed into the dragon, her spear plunging deep into the beast's neck, blood sluicing. Lik-Rifa let out a scream that sent Elvar huddling back to the ground with her hands over her ears. The dragon twisted and spun in the air, one tattered wing slapping into the bow-wielding woman, sending the bow flying and the woman hurtling away. The warrior with the injured wing clung to the spear in Lik-Rifa's neck and drew along knife from her belt, then started stabbing into the dragon's throat. Another screech and Lik-Rifa was spiralling and diving, speeding towards the ground. There was an explosion of earth and ash as she crashed to the surface, skidding and ploughing through a wagon, timber smashed to kindling, the horse bound to the cart thrown on its side, neighing wildly, legs broken. A great dust cloud rose up about the dragon and woman." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The white-winged warrior appeared in the air again and circled the cloud, drawing her sword.\n\nDust settled, the dragon rising from the ashes, the golden-winged woman standing before Lik-Rifa, long-knife in her hand.\n\nThe woman above tucked her wing and dived like a well-cast spear, slamming into Lik-Rifa's back, her sword stabbing deep. Lik-Rifa's head reared high with an ear-splitting scream. The woman on foot ran at the dragon, one golden wing hanging limp, long-knife glinting, and she leaped, her knife punching deep into the dragon's chest, blood spurting. Another agonised scream from Lik-Rifa.\n\nThey are going to kill her, Elvar thought.\n\nFigures moving, a blur and Ilska appeared, running into the fray, the hulking Drekr behind her. They both leaped at the golden-winged woman, sword and axe stabbing and chopping. Feathers erupted and the woman screeched and twisted, ripping her knife free of the dragon, who was bucking, throwing the white-winged woman from her back.\n\nDrekr slammed into the golden-winged woman and the two of them crashed to the ground, rolled together and came to a halt. Ilska ran after them, hovering as the woman grabbed Drekr's axe-fist and pinned him, raising her long-knife. Ilska hacked down, her sword chopping into the woman's neck. There was a scream and a spurt of blood, Ilska's sword rising and chopping again, the winged woman collapsing, blood spraying.\n\nLik-Rifa was roaring as the white-winged woman spun through the air, wings beating, trying to pull herself out of her fall, but she was too low. She smashed into the ground, skidded and stopped, rose to her knees and then the dragon slammed along-clawed foot down upon her. Jaws lunged, crunching down onto the woman's head. A savage wrench of Lik-Rifa's neck and a screech was cut short." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The dragon lifted her neck and gulped, swallowing the head, then let out aground-shaking roar and stamped on the headless woman, again and again, ripping and rending with her taloned feet: blood, bone, feathers torn and pulped and mashed to a fine mist.\n\nIlska and Drekr stood silently, staring.\n\nLik-Rifa slowed, then stopped, looked around and saw the horse from the cart, still laying on its side, eyes wide and white, sweat-streaked with fear and pain. The dragon's wings beat and Lik-Rifa lurched into the air, came down hard upon the horse, claws pinning it, jaws biting, tearing. Flesh ripped, blood spurting, bones cracking as the long-caged dragon feasted.\n\nElvar stared in silent awe and horror.\n\nThen the dragon was raising her head, the scales of her jaws dripping red with gore. She licked her lips and shivered, huge and proud and dreadful, her razored tail lashing, gazing about with red-glowing eyes. She took along, shuddering breath, her eyes focusing upon Ilska and Drekr standing before her, small and insignificant against her hulking form.\n\n\"Ahhh,\" the dragon sighed with a rumble that shook Elvar to her bones and reverberated in her chest. She heard a scraping sound behind her and saw Grend, ash-covered and bleeding, crawling towards her. She moved to him, dragging herself across the ground with her one good arm, and they collapsed upon each other, lay there staring at Lik-Rifa.\n\nA silence settled, punctuated by the groans and screams of the wounded or dying, the wailing of children scattered by the dragon's arrival.\n\nFigures appeared from the ash: more of Ilska's dragon-born and Raven-Feeders, rising from around the battlefield where they had been tossed like the wooden figures on some giant tafl board." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ilska approached Lik-Rifa, twice the size of Snakavik's mead hall, and fell to her knees before her, Drekr and the others doing the same.\n\nThe dragon regarded them, dipped her sinuous head and breathed deeply, stirring hair and clothes and ash.\n\n\"My children,\" Lik-Rifa growled, her voice like a mountain slide, like a summer storm fractured with lightning, rumbling into the distance. A tremor passed through her, from snout to tail, and then her shape was shimmering, twisting and coiling like mist, shifting and changing, contracting, shrinking, until a woman stood before Ilska and her kin. She was tall, taller than any man, at least as big as the bull troll Elvar had slain on Iskalt Island. Her body was lean and striated, skin pale and raw and scabbed, weeping pus. Blood oozed from wounds. She was clothed in a tunic of grey, red-woven at the neck and hem, a belt studded with gold about her waist and a dark cloak billowing about her like wings. Her hair, black as jet, streaked with silver, was pulled back tightly, braids woven into it. She had a sharply beautiful face. Red coals glowed in her eyes.\n\n\"What has become of my world, my children, my warbands?\" she said, her voice hard as the north wind, a tremor shivering through it. She looked around at the battle-plain, the shapes of the long-dead become part of the landscape. Her red eyes flickered to Ilska.\n\n\"What has Orna done?\" she snarled, lips twisting, wringing her hands. \"I heard them screaming, my children, my faithful, but I could not help them, because of that winged BITCH. ORNA DECEIVED ME AND I WAS CAGED.\" She roared those last words, the sound of it seeming too loud for her lungs to create, but Elvar felt it in her bones, felt the ground quake beneath her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"The world has changed, my lady,\" Ilska said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But we are your faithful, the pure. We have laboured the long years to set you free. We are few, but more will come, now that you are released from your cage.\"\n\n\"Hhmmm,\" Lik-Rifa rumbled, then reached a handout and stroked Ilska's cheek. It was big enough to crush her head, if she wished. She looked around again, her eyes coming to rest upon the shattered stump of Oskutreð, and shivered. \"I hate this place,\" she snarled, the muscles twitching in her face. \"I must getaway from here. I would see my hall of Nastrandir.\" She shook, a tremor passing through her, and suddenly she was shifting and changing, growing, expanding, wings sprouting and arching from her back, until she was a dragon again, bigger than two mead halls. Her wings snapped out, pale and tattered, with a blast of foul air, and then they were beating, lifting her from the ground. \"I have languished in a hole and devoured nothing but corpses for three hundred years,\" she said with a disgusted twist of her lips. \"I would feel the wind in my face and hunt again,\" she rumbled as she rose into the air, wings lashing and rising higher and higher, spiralling up.\n\nIlska and the others burst into motion, gathering up the carts that were still in one piece, turning them back onto their wheels, rounding up horses that had bolted in a flurry of motion. Other warriors searched the plain, gathering up the thrall-collared children and loading them upon the wagons. Elvar and Grend just lay there, numb and staring, as if the end of the world had come and there was nothing else they could do except observe its destruction." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Raven-Feeders passed close to them, but ignored them, just hurried on with their search for the children or rounding up horses. Here and there Elvar saw others of the Battle-Grim, lying in the ash, stunned, staring, pale-faced.\n\nAnd then Ilska was shouting out commands and whips were cracking, the carts pulling away, warriors riding or marching around them.\n\nAnd above them Lik-Rifa spiralled in the air. She opened her jaws and roared, shaking the sky, and then she beat her wings, flying south into the soft-glowing sky. Corpses hung from her wings.\n\nElvar watched the dragon shrink into the distance, Ilska and her Tainted warband following after her like a serpent slithering across the ground. She looked at Grend.\n\n\"Only blood and death and misery will come of this.\" She remembered Uspa's words to her, only a few nights ago. She had not believed the Seiðr-witch then, had thought her mad. She believed her now.\n\n\"What have we done?\" she whispered." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Varg ran through the pinewoods, his spear in his fist, the scent of needles and sap sharp in the air. Cold crackled in his chest as his breath misted in billowing clouds. Pain rippled down his ribs with each indrawn breath, a reminder of the dragon-born's blow, but it was dull and manageable now, blending with the other hundred pains from the bruises and cuts he had acquired during the fight at Rotta's chamber. Varg ran ahead of the Bloodsworn, some riding, others on foot. He could hear them behind him: Einar's pounding feet, the drum of hooves. Ahead of him he saw the outline of Edel and her hounds as she flitted through dappled woods, running light-footed and soundless across the thick, spongy pine-needle litter.\n\nI am Tainted. The thought spiralled through his thought-cage, the first thing there when he awoke each day, staying close throughout the course of the day until he lay his head upon his cloak and slept at night. I am Tainted. It was so clear to him, now. How he had been able to run faster and longer than anyone else on Kolskegg's farm, the speed and savagery that had gripped him in the pugil-ring, but always controlled. He had been alone, set apart. A stranger in a hostile land.\n\nExcept for Frøya. My sister. She was Tainted too. Is that why I could feel her deep in my bones, in my veins, hear her death-scream in my head? He blinked and shook his head.\n\nI am Tainted. When Svik and Røkia had first told him, he had felt cursed, and ashamed. Now, he no longer felt like that. He knew how the world viewed him: as less than human, as a commodity to be harnessed, enslaved and used. He was familiar with how that felt, had been a thrall all his life, so he understood why the Bloodsworn had not told him, had watched and waited until they trusted him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Trust me." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That felt... strange to him, gave him a lightness in his belly. To be trusted, to be called kin. Called brother. And as strange and shocking as it felt, it also made him feel... content. Like a smile locked away tight in his chest.\n\nEdel slowed ahead of him and whistled, then stopped and waited, her two wolfhounds sitting beside her, their tongues lolling. Varg drew close to her and slowed, stopped and leaned on his spear. Other figures flitted through the woodland, to the left and right, Edel's scouts moving towards them.\n\n\"Torvik told me you would make a fine scout,\" Edel said to him as he rested a hand on his knee and breathed deeply. \"He said you noticed other Bloodsworn scouts in the woods around Rotta's chamber, before we attacked.\"\n\nThe thought of Torvik was a knife in the gut, a sharp pain. Grief, anger. He missed his friend; had only realised Torvik was his friend now that he was gone.\n\nVarg nodded.\n\n\"You have the makings of a fine scout, then, within the Bloodsworn,\" she said. \"Each of us finds our place.\"\n\nRøkia emerged from the trees, breathing heavily, sweat glistening and clouding in the cold. She had a spear in her fist, was running in her mail coat with her shield slung across her back, like Varg. She nodded a greeting when she saw him.\n\n\"You look fine in your new mail,\" she said as she drew near.\n\nHe shrugged his shoulders, still getting used to the weight of his new-won brynja and his shield across his back. The belt around his waist helped to take some of the weight of mail from his shoulders, and once he had wriggled into it, which was easier said than done, it did not feel as heavy as it had in a rolled-up bundle. Even so, the mail, weapons and shield were all extra weight that he was unused to carrying." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Why have we stopped?\" he asked Edel.\n\n\"Can you smell anything?\" she asked Varg, Røkia and the other scouts who were filtering out of the trees to join them.\n\nRøkia caught the scent first, Varg a few heartbeats behind.\n\n\"Smoke,\" Røkia said.\n\n\"And blood,\" Varg muttered.\n\nBehind them the drum of hooves and feet grew louder, closer, and Varg looked back to see Glornir riding out of the woodland, Svik and Sulich riding either side of him, Einar running alongside them, the rest of the Bloodsworn following. Glornir was glowering, danger leaking from him. He reined in and Edel told him of the scents ahead, of smoke and blood.\n\n\"Kit check: make yourselves ready,\" Glornir called out.\n\nVarg pulled a nålbinding cap from his belt and pulled it over his head, despite his sweat, then unbuckled his helm from his belt, the helm he had taken from the dragon-born at Rotta's chamber, and pulled that over his woollen cap and buckled it under his chin. Sound changed, muted and dull, but he could still hear well enough. He checked the curtain of mail was spread across his neck and shoulders, then gripped his spear and waited. He saw Jökul crouch and scoop up a handful of pine needles and dirt, rub it between his palms and let it fallback to the ground. The smith stood and took his hammer from his belt, rolled his shoulders and clicked his neck.\n\n\"Onwards,\" Glornir said, then kicked his horse on.\n\nEdel moved ahead, Varg, Røkia and the scouts behind her like a flock of geese, spreading wide, Glornir behind them, the Bloodsworn all about him. Varg felt the first rush of danger, a tingling in his blood. They travelled in silence apart from the drum of hooves and feet, the clink and jangle of harness and mail, and the rhythmic breaths of the runners. Two days they had been on Skalk's trail now, and all sensed that they were closing in." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They were travelling along a wide track through the trees, the mountains of the Bonebacks rearing tall as the sky on the left. Varg heard the sound of water ahead, fast-flowing, and the scent of smoke and blood grew stronger. A scream drifted on the wind, faint but clear, sending chills running across Varg's neck. It was terror-filled.\n\nThe path opened up, a tree-shrouded hill sloping up to the right, and then they were moving into a valley, the cliffs ending on the left, and a timber wall appeared, built tight to the cliff face and running parallel to the path. A black cloud of smoke billowed across them. Varg held his breath, and then he was out the other side. Beyond the timber wall he saw a hall and tower on a slope, pressed to the cliff face. The tower burned like a rushlight, flames crackling and hungry, smoke wafting. The smell of blood and death was thick in the air, now. Behind the crackle and hiss of flames there was no other sound.\n\n\"Shields!\" Glornir shouted and Varg shrugged his shield from his back, hefted it and ran on, all about him the Bloodsworn doing the same.\n\nEdel held her fist up ahead of him and they slowed, moving from a run to a jog, then a walk as a gateway in the timber wall appeared, a river beyond it. The gates were open. Edel slowed, her hounds loping ahead. The wolfhounds reached the gateway first and stopped, crouched and snarling, hackles raised.\n\nGlornir rode up, reining his horse in, letting her walk through the open gates of the fortress. Edel, Røkia and Varg entered beside him, spreading out into a sloping courtyard, the Bloodsworn following behind." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The ground was littered with the dead, first in their ones and twos, then more of them the further into the yard Varg walked. Ahead of him the slope climbed to a hall and tower. There was a splintering sound as part of the tower gave way and collapsed, smashing through the turf roof of the hall. An explosion of sparks and ash.\n\nThere were more dead in the courtyard, piled deeper around the steps to the hall, bodies twisted together, hacked and mutilated. And on the steps in the midst of it all sat a woman. She was gore-drenched, red with blood from her head to her boots, along-axe lying across her lap. An ugly creature was perched upon her shoulder, with a nasty-looking sting on its tail, and another vaesen sat on the steps before the woman. It was small, with sharp claws and a half-spear in its tiny, slim-fingered hand. A tennúr. It had a mound of what looked like blood-covered nuts piled at its feet and was crunching on one of them as it looked at Varg. A shiver of revulsion passed through Vargas he realised they weren't nuts: they were human teeth. And he didn't like the way the tennúr's gaze fixed fora long moment upon his own mouth. The two vaesen regarded Glornir and the Bloodsworn with suspicious, violent eyes.\n\nSitting around the woman's legs were children, maybe twelve or fifteen of them. They were the only things in the area not spattered in blood. They didn't seem to be scared of the woman, which Varg found strange, as his blood was tingling, and he felt the ripples of fear and danger pulsing off her. If he had hackles like Edel's wolfhounds, they would have been standing stiff and straight." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ahead of him Varg heard Glornir gasp a breath.\n\nThe woman looked up at them as they approached, her eyes fixing on Glornir. Varg saw recognition dawn in them.\n\n\"He's not here,\" the woman said, shaking her head, \"he's not here.\" The pain in her voice was palpable. Tears had streaked clean lines through the blood and gore and fragments of bone that were thick on her cheeks.\n\nGlornir reined in his horse and slipped from his saddle, then walked a few steps towards her and stopped.\n\n\"Orka Skullsplitter,\" he whispered.\n\nThe woman stood.\n\n\"My brother?\" Glornir asked.\n\n\"They killed him and took my son,\" she said, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks.\n\nGlornir walked up to her and spread his arms wide, pulling her into an embrace." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "In partnership with the author, move the story forward.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, prophecy\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: The Shadow Rising\nChapter: 17" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Faile will not becoming,\" Perrin said firmly. \"Just you and me, Loial.\"\n\nIgnoring him, Faile smiled up at Loial as if he were teasing her, \"You promised more than a look, Loial. To take me wherever I wanted, whenever I wanted, and before anyone else. You swore to it.\"\n\n\"I did,\" Loial protested, \"but only because you refused to believe I would show you. You said you would not believe unless I swore. I will do as I promised, but surely you do not want to step ahead of Perrin's need.\"\n\n\"You swore,\" Faile said calmly. \"By your mother, and your mother's mother, and your mother's mother's mother.\"\n\n\"Yes, I did, Faile, but Perrin-\"\n\n\"You swore, Loial. Do you mean to break your oath?\"\n\nThe Ogier looked like misery stacked on misery. His shoulders slumped and his ears drooped, the corners of his wide mouth turned down and the ends of his long eyebrows draggled onto his cheeks.\n\n\"She tricked you, Loial.\" Perrin wondered if they could hear his teeth grinding. \"She deliberately tricked you.\"\n\nRed stained Faile's cheeks, but she still had the nerve to say, \"Only because I had to, Loial. Only because a fool man thinks he can order my life to suit himself. I'd not have done it, otherwise. You must believe that.\"\n\n\"Doesn't it make any difference that she tricked you?\" Perrin demanded, and Loial shook his massive head sadly.\n\n\"Ogier keep their word,\" Faile said. \"And Loial is going to take me to the Two Rivers. Or to the Waygate at Manetheren, at least. I have a wish to seethe Two Rivers.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Loial stood up straight, \"But that means I can help Perrin after all." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Faile, why did you drag this out? Even Laefar would not think this funny.\" There was a touch of anger in his voice; it took a good bit to make an Ogier angry.\n\n\"If he asks,\" she said determinedly. \"That was part of it, Loial. No one but you and me, unless they asked me. He has to ask me.\"\n\n\"No,\" Perrin told her while Loial was still opening his mouth. \"No, I won't ask. I will ride to Emond's Field first. I'll walk! So you might as well give up this foolishness. Tricking Loial. Trying to force yourself in where... where you aren't wanted.\"\n\nHer calm dropped away in anger. \"And by the time you reach there, Loial and I will have done for the Whitecloaks. It will all be over. Ask, you anvil-headed blacksmith. Just ask and you can come with us.\"\n\nPerrin took hold of himself. There was noway to argue her around to his way of thinking, but he would not ask. She was right-he would need weeks to reach the Two Rivers on his horse; they could be therein two days, perhaps, through the Ways-but he would not ask. Not after she tricked Loial and tried to bully me! \"Then I'll travel the Ways to Manetheren alone. I'll follow you two. If I stay far enough back not to be part of your party, I won't be breaking Loial's oath. You can't stop me following.\"\n\n\"That is dangerous, Perrin,\" Loial said worriedly. \"The Ways are dark. If you miss a turning, or take the wrong bridge by accident, you could be lost forever. Or until Machin Shin catches you. Ask her, Perrin. She said you can come if you do. Ask her.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Ogier's deep voice trembled speaking the name of Machin Shin, and a shiver ran down Perrin's back, too. Machin Shin. The Black Wind. Not even Aes Sedai knew whether it was Shadowspawn or something that had grown out of the Ways'corruption. Machin Shin was why traveling the Ways meant risking death; that was what Aes Sedai said. The Black Wind ate souls; that Perrin knew for truth. But he kept his voice steady and his face straight. I'll be burned if I let her think I am weakening. \"I can't, Loial. Or anyway, I won't.\"\n\nLoial grimaced. \"Faile, it will be dangerous for him, trying to follow us. Please relent and let him-\" She cut him off sharply.\n\n\"No. If he is too stiff-necked to ask, why should I? Why should I even care if he does get lost?\" She turned to Perrin. \"You can travel close to us. As close as you need to, so long as it's plain you are following. You will trail after me like a puppy until you ask. Why won't you just ask?\"\n\n\"Stubborn humans,\" the Ogier muttered. \"Hasty and stubborn, even when haste lands you in a hornet nest.\"\n\n\"I would like to leave today, Loial,\" Perrin said, not looking at Faile.\n\n\"Best to go quickly,\" Loial agreed with a regretful look at the book on the table. \"I can tidy my notes on the journey, I suppose. The Light knows what I will miss, being away from Rand.\"\n\n\"Did you hear me, Perrin?\" Faile demanded,.\n\n\"I will get my horse and a few supplies, Loial. We can be on our way by midmorning.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Burn you, Perrin Aybara, answer me!\"\n\nLoial eyed her worriedly. \"Perrin, are you certain you could not-\"\n\n\"No,\" Perrin interrupted gently. \"She is muleheaded, and she likes playing tricks. I won't dance so she can laugh.\" He ignored the sound coming from deep in Faile's throat, like a cat staring at a strange dog and ready to attack. \"I will let you know as soon as I am ready.\" He started for the door, and she called after him furiously.\n\n\"\"When\" is my decision, Perrin Aybara. Mine and Loial's. Do you hear me? You had better be ready in two hours, or we'll leave you behind. You can meet us at the Dragonwall Gate stable, if you're coming. Do you hear me?\"\n\nHe sensed her moving and shut the door behind him just as something thumped into it heavily. A book, he thought. Loial would give her fits about that. Better to hit Loial on the head than harm one of his books.\n\nFora moment he leaned against the door, despairing. All he had done, all he had gone through, making her hate him, and she was going to be thereto see him die anyway. The best thing he could say was that she might enjoy it now. Stubborn, muleheaded woman!\n\nWhen he turned to go, one of the Aiel was approaching, a tall man with reddish hair and green eyes who could have been Rand's older cousin, or a young uncle. He knew the man, and liked him, if only because Gaul had never given even a flicker of notice to his yellow eyes. \"May you find shade this morning, Perrin. The majhere told me you had come this way, though I think she itched to put a broom in my hands. As hard as a Wise One that woman.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"May you find shade this morning, Gaul." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Women are all hardheaded, if you ask me.\"\n\n\"Perhaps so, if you do not know how to get 'round them. I hear you are journeying to the Two Rivers.\"\n\n\"Light!\" Perrin growled before the Aiel could say more. \"Does the whole Stone know?\" If Moiraine knew-\n\nGaul shook his head. \"Rand al'Thor took me aside and spoke tome, asking me to tell no one. I think he spoke to others, too, but I do not know how many will want to go with you. We have been on this side of the Dragon wall fora longtime, and many ache for the Three-fold Land.\"\n\n\"Come with me?\" Perrin felt stunned. If he had Aiel with him... There were possibilities he had not dared consider before. \"Rand asked you to come with me? To the Two Rivers?\"\n\nGaul shook his head again. \"He said only that you were going, and that there were men who might try to kill you. I mean to accompany you, though, if you will have me.\"\n\n\"Will I?\" Perrin almost laughed. \"I will that. We will be into the Ways in a few hours.\"\n\n\"The Ways?\" Gaul's expression did not change, but he blinked.\n\n\"Does that make a difference?\"\n\n\"Death comes for all men, Perrin.\" It was hardly a comforting answer.\n\n\"I cannot believe Rand is that cruel,\" Egwene said, and Nynaeve added, \"At least he did not try to stop you.\" Seated on Nynaeve's bed, they were finishing the division of the gold Moiraine had provided. Four fat purses apiece to be carried in pockets sewn under Elayne's and Nynaeve's skirts, and another each, not so large as to attract unwanted attention, to carry at the belt. Egwene had taken a lesser amount, there being less use for gold in the Waste." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elayne frowned at the two neatly tied bundles and the leather script lying beside the door. They held all of her clothes and other things. Cased knife and fork, hairbrush and comb, needles, pins, thread, thimble, scissors. A tinderbox and a second knife, smaller than the one at her belt. Soap and bath powder and.... It was ridiculous to go over the list again. Egwene's stone ring was snug in her pouch. She was ready to go. There was nothing to hold her back.\n\n\"No, he did not.\" Elayne was proud of how calm and collected she sounded. He seemed almost relieved! Relieved! And I had to give him that letter, laying my heart open like a stone-blind fool. At least he won't open it until I am gone. She jumped at the touch of Nynaeve's hand on her shoulder.\n\n\"Did you want him to ask you to stay? You know what your answer would have been. You do, don't you?\"\n\nElayne compressed her lips. \"Of course I do. But he did not have to look happy about it.\" She had not meant to say that.\n\nNynaeve gave her an understanding look. \"Men are difficult at the best.\"\n\n\"I still cannot believe he would be so... so...\" Egwene began in an angry mutter. Elayne never learned what she meant to say, for at that moment the door crashed open so hard that it bounced off the wall.\n\nElayne embraced saidar before she had stopped flinching, then felt a moment of embarrassment when the rebounding door slapped hard against Lan's outstretched hand. A moment more, and she decided to hold onto the Source awhile longer. The Warder filled the doorway with his broad shoulders, his face a thunderhead; if his blue eyes could really have given off the thunderbolts they threatened, they would have blasted Nynaeve. The glow of saidar surrounded Egwene, too, and did not fade." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lan did not appear to see anyone but Nynaeve. \"You let me believe you were returning to Tar Valon,\" he rasped at her.\n\n\"You may have believed it,\" she said calmly, \"but I never said it.\"\n\n\"Never said it? Never said it! You spoke of leaving today, and always linked your leaving with those Darkfriends being sent to Tar Valon. Always! What did you mean me to think?\"\n\n\"But I never said-\"\n\n\"Light, woman!\" he roared. \"Do not bandy words with me!\"\n\nElayne exchanged worried looks with Egwene. This man had an iron self-control, but he was at a breaking point now. Nynaeve was one who often let her emotions rage, yet she faced him coolly, head high and eyes serene, hands still on her green silk skirts.\n\nLan took hold of himself with an obvious effort. He appeared as stone-faced as ever, as much in control of himself-and Elayne was sure it was all on the surface. \"I'd not have known where you were off to if I had not heard that you had ordered a carriage. To take you to a ship bound for Tanchico. I do not know why the Amyrlin allowed you to leave the Tower in the first place, or why Moiraine involved you in questioning Black sisters, but you three are Accepted. Accepted, not Aes Sedai. Tanchico now is no place for anyone except a full Aes Sedai with a Warder to watch her back. I'll not let you go into that!\"\n\n\"So,\" Nynaeve said lightly. \"You question Moiraine's decisions, and those of the Amyrlin Seat as well. Perhaps I've misunderstood Warders all along. I thought you swore to accept and obey, among other things. Lan, I do understand your concern, and I am grateful-more than grateful-but we all have tasks to perform. We are going; you must resign yourself to the fact.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Why? For the love of the Light, at least tell me why! Tanchico!\"\n\n\"If Moiraine has not told you,\" Nynaeve said gently, \"perhaps she has her reasons. We must do our tasks, as you must do yours.\"\n\nLan trembled-actually trembled!-and clamped his jaw shut angrily. When he spoke, he was strangely hesitant. \"You will need someone to help you in Tanchico. Someone to keep a Taraboner street thief from slipping a knife into your back for your purse. Tanchico was that sort of city before the war began, and everything I've heard says it is worse now. I could... I could protect you, Nynaeve.\"\n\nElayne's eyebrows shot up. He could not be suggesting... He just could not be.\n\nNynaeve gave no sign that he had said anything out of the ordinary. \"Your place is with Moiraine.\"\n\n\"Moiraine.\" Sweat beaded on the Warder's hard face, and he struggled with the words. \"I can... I must... Nynaeve, I... I...\"\n\n\"You will remain with Moiraine,\" Nynaeve said sharply, \"until she releases you from your bond. You will do as I say.\" Pulling a carefully folded paper from her pouch, she thrust it into his hands. He frowned, read, then blinked and read again.\n\nElayne knew what it said.\n\nWhat the bearer does is done at my order and by my authority. Obey, and keep silent, at my command.\n\nSiuan Sanche Watcher of the Seals Flame of Tar Valon The Amyrlin Seat\n\nThe other like it rested in Egwene's pouch, though none of them were sure what good it would do where she was going." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But this allows you to do anything you please,\" Lan protested. \"You can speak in the Amyrlin's name. Why would she give this to an Accepted?\"\n\n\"Ask no questions I cannot answer,\" Nynaeve said, then added with a hint of a grin, \"Just count yourself lucky I do not tell you to dance for me.\"\n\nElayne suppressed a smile of her own. Egwene made a choking sound of swallowed laughter. It was what Nynaeve had said when the Amyrlin first handed them the letters. With this I could make a Warder dance. Neither of them had had any doubt which Warder she had meant.\n\n\"Do you not? You dispose of me very neatly. My bond, and my oaths. This letter.\" Lan had a dangerous gleam in his eye, which Nynaeve seemed not to notice as she took back the letter and replaced it in the-pouch on her belt.\n\n\"You are very full of yourself, al'Lan Mandragoran. We do as we must, as you will.\"\n\n\"Full of myself, Nynaeve al'Meara? I am full of myself?\" Lan moved so quickly toward Nynaeve that Elayne very nearly wrapped him inflows of Air before she could think. One moment Nynaeve was standing there, with just time to gape at the tall man sweeping toward her; the next her shoes were dangling afoot off the floor and she was being quite thoroughly kissed. At first she kicked his shins and hammered him with her fists and made sounds of frantic, furious protest, but her kicks slowed and stopped, and then she was holding onto his shoulders and not protesting at all.\n\nEgwene dropped her eyes with embarrassment, but Elayne watched interestedly. Was that how she had looked when Rand.... No! I will not think about him. She wondered if there was time to write him another letter, taking back everything she had said in the first, letting him know she was not to be trifled with. But did she want to?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After awhile Lan set Nynaeve back on her feet. She swayed a bit as she straightened her dress and patted her hair furiously. \"You have no right...\" she began in a breathless voice, then stopped to swallow. \"I will not be manhandled in that fashion for the whole world to see. I will not!\"\n\n\"Not the whole world,\" he replied. \"But if they can see, they can hear as well. You have made a place in my heart where I thought there was no room for anything else. You have made flowers grow where I cultivated dust and stones. Remember this, on this journey you insist on making. If you die, I will not survive you long.\" He gave Nynaeve one of his rare smiles. If it did not exactly soften his face, at least it made it less hard. \"And remember also, I am not always so easily commanded, even with letters from the Amyrlin.\" He made an elegant bow; fora moment Elayne thought he actually meant to kneel and kiss Nynaeve's Great Serpent ring. \"As you command,\" he murmured, \"so do I obey.\" It was difficult to tell whether he meant to be mocking or not.\n\nAs soon as the door closed behind him, Nynaeve sank onto the edge of her bed as if letting her knees give way at last. She stared at the door with a pensive frown.\n\n\"\"Poke the meekest dog too often,\"\" Elayne quoted, \"\"and he will bite.\" Not that Lan is very meek.\" She got a sharp look and a sniff from Nynaeve.\n\n\"He is insufferable,\" Egwene said. \"Sometimes he is. Nynaeve, why did you do that? He was ready to go with you. I know you want nothing more than to break him free of Moiraine. Do not try to deny it.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nynaeve did not try. Instead she fussed with her dress, and smoothed the coverlet on the bed. \"Not like that,\" she said finally. \"I mean him to be mine. All of him. I will not have him remembering a broken oath to Moiraine. I will not have that between us. For him, as well as myself.\"\n\n\"But will it be any different if you bring him to ask Moiraine to release him from his bond?\" Egwene asked. \"Lan is the kind of man who would see it as much the same thing. All that leaves is to somehow make her let him goof her own accord. How can you manage that?\"\n\n\"I do not know.\" Nynaeve firmed her voice. \"Yet what must be done, can be done. There is always away. That is for another time. Work to be done, and we sit here fretting over men. Are you sure you have everything you need for the Waste, Egwene?\"\n\n\"Aviendha is readying everything,\" Egwene said. \"She still seems unhappy, but she says we can reach Rhuidean in little more than a month, if we are lucky. You will be in Tanchico by then.\"\n\n\"Perhaps sooner,\" Elayne told her, \"if what they say about Sea Folk rakers is true. You will be careful, Egwene? Even with Aviendha fora guide, the Waste cannot be safe.\"\n\n\"I will. You be careful. Both of you. Tanchico is not much safer than the Waste now.\"\n\nAbruptly they were all hugging one another, repeating cautions to take care, making sure they all remembered the schedule for meeting in Tel'aran'rhiod 's Stone." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Elayne wiped tears from her cheeks." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"As well Lan left.\" She laughed tremulously. \"He would think we were all being foolish.\"\n\n\"No, he would not,\" Nynaeve said, pulling up her skirts to settle a purse of gold into its pocket. \"He maybe a man, but he is not a complete dolt.\"\n\nThere had to be time between here and the carriage to locate paper and pen, Elayne decided. She would find time. Nynaeve had the right of it. Men needed a firm hand. Rand would find he could not getaway from her so easily. And he would not find it easy to worm his way back into her good graces." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Favoring his stiff right leg, Thom bowed with a flourish of his gleeman's cloak that set the colorful patches fluttering. His eyes felt grainy, but he made himself speak lightly. \"A good morning to you.\" Straightening, he knuckled his long white mustaches grandly.\n\nThe black-and-gold-clad servants looked surprised. The two muscular lads straightened from the gold-studded red lacquer chest, with a shattered lid, that they had been about to lift, and the three women stilled their mops in front of them. The hallway was empty along here except for them, and any excuse to break their labor was good, especially at this hour. They looked as tired as Thom felt, with slumping shoulders and dark circles under their eyes.\n\n\"A good morning to you, gleeman,\" the oldest of the women said. A bit plump and plain-faced, perhaps, she had a nice smile, weary as she was. \"Can we help you?\"\n\nThom produced four colored balls from a capacious coatsleeve and began to juggle. \"I am just going about trying to raise spirits. A gleeman must do what he can.\" He would have used more than four, but he was fatigued enough to make even that many an exercise in concentration. How long since he had nearly dropped a fifth ball? Two hours? He stifled a yawn, turned it into a reassuring smile. \"A terrible night, and spirits need lifting.\"\n\n\"The Lord Dragon saved us,\" one of the younger women said. She was pretty and slim, but with a predatory gleam in her dark, shadowed eyes that warned him to temper his smile. Of course, she might be useful if she was both greedy and honest, meaning that she would stay bought once he paid her. It was always good to find another set of hands to place a note, a tongue that would tell him what was heard and say what he wanted where he wanted. Old fool! You have enough hands and ears, so stop thinking of a fine bosom and remember the look in her eye! The interesting thing was that she sounded as if she meant what she said, and one of the young fellows nodded agreement to her words." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yes,\" Thom said. \"I wonder which High Lord had charge of the docks yesterday? '\" He nearly fumbled the balls in irritation at himself. Bringing it right out like that. He was too tired; he should be in his bed. He should have been there hours ago.\n\n\"The docks are the Defenders'responsibility,\" the oldest woman told him. \"You'd not know that, of course. The High Lords would not concern themselves.\"\n\nThom knew it very well. \"Is that so? Well, I am not Tairen, of course.\" He changed the balls from a simple circle to a double loop; it looked more difficult than it was, and the girl with the predatory look clapped her hands. Now that he was into it, he might as well goon. After this, though, he would call it a night. A night? The sun was rising already. \"Still, it is a shame no one asked why those barges were at the docks. With their hatches down, hiding all those Trollocs. Not that I am saying anyone knew the Trollocs were there.\" The double loop wobbled, and he quickly went back to a circle. Light, he was exhausted. \"You'd think one of the High Lords would have asked, though.\"\n\nThe two young men frowned thoughtfully atone another, and Thom smiled to himself. Another seed planted, just that easily, if clumsily as well. Another rumor started, whatever they knew fora fact about who had charge of the docks. And rumors spread-a rumor like this would not stop short of the city-so it was another small wedge of suspicion driven between commoners and nobles. Who would the commoners turn to, except the man they knew the nobles hated? The man who had saved the Stone from Shadowspawn. Rand al'Thor. The Lord Dragon." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was time to leave what he had sown. If the roots had taken hold here, nothing he said now could pull them loose, and he had scattered other seeds this night. But it would not do for anyone to discover he was the one doing the planting. \"They fought bravely last night, the High Lords did. Why, I saw...\" He trailed off as the women leaped to their mopping and the men grabbed up the chest and hurried away.\n\n\"I can find work for gleemen, too,\" the majhere's voice said behind him. \"Idle hands are idle hands.\"\n\nHe turned gracefully, considering his leg, and swept her a deep bow. The top of her head was below his shoulder, but she probably weighed half again what he did. She had a face like an anvil-not improved by the bandage around her temples-an extra chin, and deep-set eyes like chips of black flint. \"A good morning to you, gracious lady. A small token of this fresh, new day.\"\n\nHe gestured with a flurry of hands and tucked a golden yellow sunburst blossom, only a little bedraggled for its time up his sleeve, into the gray hair above her bandage. She snatched the flower right out again, of course, and eyed it suspiciously, but that was just as he wanted. He put three limping strides into her moment of hesitation, and when she shouted something after him, he neither listened nor slowed.\n\nHorrible woman, he thought. If we had turned her loose on the Trollocs, she'd have had them all sweeping and mopping.\n\nHe yawned behind a hand, jaws creaking. He was too old for this. He was tired, and his knee was a knot of pain. Nights with no sleep, battles, plotting. Too old. He should be living quietly on a farm somewhere. With chickens. Farms always had chickens. And sheep. They must not be difficult to look after; shepherds seemed to loll about and play the pipes all the time. He would play the harp, of course, not pipes. Or his flute; weather was not good for the harp. And there would be a town nearby, with an inn where he could amaze the patrons in the common room. He flourished his cloak as he passed two servants. The only point in wearing it in this heat was to let people know he was a gleeman. They perked up at the sight of him, of course, hoping he might pause to entertain fora moment. Most gratifying. Yes, a farm had its virtues. A quiet place. No people to bother him. As long as there was a town close by." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Pushing open the door to his room, he stopped in his tracks. Moiraine straightened as if she had a perfect right to be going through the papers scattered on his table and calmly arranged her skirts as she sat on the stool. Now there was a beautiful woman, with every grace a man could want, including laughing at his quips. Fool! Old fool! She's Aes Sedai, and you're too tired to think straight.\n\n\"A good morning to you, Moiraine Sedai,\" he said, hanging his cloak on a peg. He avoided looking at his writing case, still sitting under the table where he had left it. No point in letting her know it was important. Probably no point in checking after she went, for that matter; she could have channeled the lock open and closed again, and he would never be able to tell. Weary as he was, he could not even remember whether he had left anything incriminating in the case. Or anywhere else, for that matter. Everything he could see in the room was right where it belonged. He did not think he could have been foolish enough to leave anything out. Doors in the servants' quarters had no locks or latches. \"I would offer you a refreshing drink, but I fear I have nothing but water.\"\n\n\"I am not thirsty,\" she said in a pleasant, melodious voice. She leaned forward, and the room was small enough for her to place a hand on his right knee. A chill tingle rippled through him. \"I wish a good Healer had been near when this happened. It is too late now, I regret.\"\n\n\"A dozen Healers would not have been enough,\" he told her. \"A Halfman did it.\"\n\n\"I know.\"\n\nWhat else does she know? he wondered. Turning to pull his lone chair out from behind the table, he bit back an oath. He felt as if he had had a good night's sleep, and the pain was gone from his knee. His limp remained, but the joint was more limber than it had been since he was injured. The woman didn't even ask if I wanted it. Burn me, what is she after? He refused to flex the leg. If she would not ask, he would not acknowledge her gift." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"An interesting day, yesterday,\" she said as he sat down.\n\n\"I'd not call Trollocs and Halfmen interesting,\" he said dryly.\n\n\"I did not mean them. Earlier. The High Lord Carleon dead in a hunting accident. His good friend Tedosian apparently mistook him fora boar. Or perhaps a deer.\"\n\n\"I hadn't heard.\" He kept his voice calm. Even if she had found the note, she could not have traced it to him. Carleon himself would have thought it by his own hand. He did not think she could have, but he reminded himself again that she was Aes Sedai. As if he needed any reminding, with that smooth pretty face across from him, those serene dark eyes watching him full of all his secrets. \"The servants\" quarters are full of gossip, but I seldom listen.\"\n\n\"Do you not?\" she murmured mildly. \"Then you will not have heard that Tedosian fell ill not an hour after returning to the Stone, directly after his wife gave him a goblet of wine to wash away the dust of the hunt. It is said he wept when he learned that she means to tend him herself, and feed him with her own hands. No doubt tears of joy at her love. I hear she has vowed not to leave his side until he can rise again. Or until he dies.\"\n\nShe knew. How, he could not say, but she knew. But why was she revealing it to him? \"A tragedy,\" he said, matching her bland tone. \"Rand will need all the loyal High Lords he can find, I suppose.\"\n\n\"Carleon and Tedosian were hardly loyal. Even to each other, it seems. They led the faction that want to kill Rand and try to forget he ever lived.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Do you say so? I pay little attention to such things. The works of the mighty are not fora simple gleeman.\"\n\nHer smile was just short of laughter, but she spoke as if reading from a page. \"Thomdril Merrilin. Called the Gray Fox, once, by some who knew him, or knew of him. Court-bard at the Royal Palace of Andor in Caemlyn. Morgase's lover fora time, after Taringail died. Fortunate for Morgase, Taringail's death. I do not suppose she ever learned he meant her to die and himself to be Andor's first king. But we were speaking of Thom Merrilin, a man who, it was said, could play the Game of Houses in his sleep. It is a shame that such a man calls himself a simple gleeman. But such arrogance to keep the same name.\"\n\nThom masked his shock with an effort. How much did she know? Too much if she knew not another word. But she was not the only one with knowledge. \"Speaking of names,\" he said levelly, \"it is remarkable how much can be puzzled out from a name. Moiraine Damodred. The Lady Moiraine of House Damodred, in Cairhien. Taringail's youngest half-sister. King Laman's niece. And Aes Sedai, let us not forget. An Aes Sedai aiding the Dragon Reborn since before she could have known that he was more than just another poor fool who could channel. An Aes Sedai with connections high in the White Tower, I would say, else she'd not risk what she has. Someone in the Hall of the Tower? More than one, I'd say; it would have to be. News of that would shake the world. But why should there be trouble? Perhaps it's best to leave an old gleeman tucked away in his hole in the servants\" quarters. Just an old gleeman playing his harp and telling his tales. Tales that harm no one.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If he had managed to stagger her even a fraction, she did not show it. \"Speculation without facts is always dangerous,\" she said calmly. \"I do not use my House name, by choice. House Damodred had a deservedly unpleasant reputation before Laman cut down Avendoraldera and lost the throne and his life for it. Since the Aiel War, it has grown worse, also deservedly.\"\n\nWould nothing shake the woman? \"What do you want of me?\" he demanded irritably.\n\nShe did not as much as blink. \"Elayne and Nynaeve take ship for Tanchico today. A dangerous city, Tanchico. Your knowledge and skills might keep them alive.\"\n\nSo that was it. She wanted to separate him from Rand, leave the boy naked to her manipulations. \"As you say, Tanchico is dangerous now, but then it always was. I wish the young women well, yet I've no wish to stick my head into a vipers\" nest. I am too old for that sort of thing. I have been thinking of taking up farming. A quiet life. Safe.\"\n\n\"A quiet life would kill you, I think.\" Sounding distinctly amused, she busied herself rearranging the folds of her skirt with small, slender hands. He had the impression she was hiding a smile. \"Tanchico will not, however. I guarantee that, and by the First Oath, you know it for truth.\"\n\nHe frowned at her despite his best efforts to keep his face straight. She had said it, and she could not lie, yet how could she know? He was sure she could not Foretell; he was certain he had heard her disavow the Talent. But she had said it. Burn the woman! \"Why should I go to Tanchico?\" She could do without titles." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"To protect Elayne? Morgase's daughter?\"\n\n\"I have not seen Morgase in fifteen years, Elayne was an infant when I left Caemlyn.\"\n\nShe hesitated, but when she spoke her voice was unrelentingly firm. \"And your reason for leaving Andor? A nephew named Owyn, I believe. One of those poor fools you spoke of who can channel. The Red sisters were supposed to bring him to Tar Valon, as any such man is, but instead they gentled him on the spot and abandoned him to the... mercies of his neighbors.\"\n\nThom knocked his chair over standing up, then had to hold onto the table because his knees were shaking. Owyn had not lived long after being gentled, driven from his home by supposed friends who could not bear to let even a man who could no longer channel live among them. Nothing Thom did could stop Owyn not wanting to live, or stop his young wife from following him to the grave inside the month.\n\n\"Why...?\" He cleared his throat roughly, tried to make his voiceless husky. \"Why are you telling me this?\"\n\nThere was sympathy on Moiraine's face. And could it be regret? Surely not. Not from an Aes Sedai. The sympathy had to be false as well. \"I would not have done, had you been willing to go simply to help Elayne and Nynaeve.\"\n\n\"Why, burn you! Why?\"\n\n\"If you go with Elayne and Nynaeve, I will tell you the names of those Red sisters when I see you next, as well as the name of the one who gave them their orders. They did not act on their own. And I will see you again. You will survive Tarabon.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He drew an uneven breath. \"What goodwill their names dome?\" he asked in a flat voice. \"Aes Sedai names, wrapped in all the power of the White Tower.\"\n\n\"A skilled and dangerous player of the Game of Houses might find a use for them,\" she replied quietly. \"They should not have done what they did. They should not have been excused for it.\"\n\n\"Will you leave me, please?\"\n\n\"I will teach you that not all Aes Sedai are like those Reds, Thom. You must learn that.\"\n\n\"Please?\"\n\nHe stood leaning on the table until she was gone, unwilling to let her see him sink awkwardly to his knees, seethe tears trickling down his weathered face. Oh, Light, Owyn. He had buried it all as deeply as he could. I couldn't get therein time. I was too busy. Too busy with the bloody Game of Houses. He scrubbed at his face testily. Moiraine could play the Game with the best. Wrenching him around this way, tugging every string he had thought perfectly hidden. Owyn, Elayne. Morgase's daughter. Only fondness remained for Morgase, perhaps a little more than that, but it was hard to walkaway from a child you had bounced on your knee. That girl in Tanchico? That city would eat her alive even without a war. It must be a pit of rabid wolves, now. And Moiraine will give me the names. All he had to do was leave Rand in Aes Sedai hands. Just as he had left Owyn. She had him like a snake in a cleft stick, damned however he writhed. Burn the woman!\n\nLooping the embroidery basket's handle over her arm, Min gathered her skirts with her other hand and strolled out of the dining hall after breakfast in a gliding pace, her back straight. She could have balanced a full goblet of wine on her head without spilling a drop. Partly that was because she could not take a proper stride in her dress, all pale blue silk with a snug bodice and sleeves and a full skirt that would drag its embroidered hem on the ground if she did not hold it up. It was also partly because she was sure she could feel Laras's eyes on her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A glance back proved her right. The Mistress of the Kitchens, a wine cask on legs, was beaming after her approvingly from the dining hall doorway. Who would have thought the woman had been a beauty in her youth, or would have a place in her heart for pretty, flirtatious girls? \"Lively,\" she called them. Who would have suspected she would decide to take'Elmindreda\" under her stout wing? It was hardly a comfortable position. Laras kept a protective eye on Min, an eye that seemed to find her anywhere in the Tower grounds. Min smiled back and patted her hair, now around black cap of curls. Burn the woman! Doesn't she have something to cook, or some scullion to yell at?\n\nLaras waved to her, and she waved in return. She could not afford to offend someone who watched her so closely, not when she had no idea how many mistakes she might be making. Laras knew every trick of'lively\" women, and expected to teach Min any she did not already know.\n\nOne real mistake, Min reflected as she took a seat on a marble bench beneath a tall willow, had been the embroidery. Not from Laras's point of view, but her own. Pulling her embroidery hoop from the basket, she ruefully examined yesterday's work, a number of lopsided yellow oxeyes and something she had meant to be a pale yellow rosebud, though no one would know unless she told them. With a sigh, she set to picking the stitches out. Leane was right, she supposed; a woman could sit for hours with an embroidery hoop, watching everyone and everything, and nobody thought it strange. It would have helped, though, if she had any skill at all." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At least it was a perfect morning for being out-of-doors. A golden sun had just cleared the horizon in a sky where the few fluffy white clouds seemed arrayed to emphasize the perfection. Alight breeze caught the scent of roses and ruffled tall calma bushes with their big red or white blossoms. Soon enough the gravel-covered paths near the tree would be full of people on one errand or another, everyone from Aes Sedai to stablemen. A perfect morning, and a perfect place from which to watch unobserved. Perhaps today she would have a useful viewing.\n\n\"Elmindreda?\"\n\nMin jumped, and stuck her pricked finger in her mouth. Twisting \"round on the bench, she prepared to assail Gawyn for sneaking upon her, but the words froze in her throat. Galad was with him. Taller than Gawyn, with long legs, he moved with a dancer's grace and a lean, sinewy strength. His hands were long, too, elegant yet strong. And his face... He was, quite simply, the most beautiful man she had ever seen.\n\n\"Stop sucking your finger,\" Gawyn said with a grin. \"We know you area pretty little girl; you do not need to prove it to us.\"\n\nBlushing, she hastily pulled her hand down, and barely restrained herself from a furious glare that would not have been at all in keeping with Elmindreda. He had needed no threats or commands from the Amyrlin to keep her secret, only her asking, but he did take any opportunity to tease that presented itself.\n\n\"It is not right to mock, Gawyn,\" Galad said. \"He did not mean to offend, Mistress Elmindreda. Your pardon, but can it be we have met before? When you frowned at Gawyn so fiercely just then, I almost thought I knew you.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Min dropped her eyes demurely. \"Oh, I could never forget meeting you, my Lord Galad,\" she said in her best foolish-girl voice. The simpering tone, and anger at her own slip, sent a tide of heat to her hairline, improving her disguise.\n\nShe did not look anything like herself, and the dress and the hair were only apart of it. Leane had acquired creams and powders and an incredible assortment of mysterious scented things in the city and drilled her until she could have used them in her sleep. She had cheekbones, now, and more color in her lips than nature had put there. A dark cream lining her eyelids and a fine powder that emphasized her lashes made her eyes seem larger. Not at all like herself. Some of the novices had told her admiringly how beautiful she was, and even a few Aes Sedai had called her'a very pretty child.\" She hated it. The dress was quite pretty, she admitted, but she hated the rest of it. Yet there was no point in donning a disguise if she did not keep it up.\n\n\"I am sure you would remember,\" Gawyn said dryly. \"I did not mean to interrupt you at your embroidery-swallows, are they? Yellow swallows?\" Min thrust the hoop back into the basket. \"But I wanted to ask you to comment on this.\" He pushed a small, leather-bound book, old and tattered, into her hands, and suddenly his voice was serious. \"Tell my brother this is nonsense. Perhaps he will listen to you.\"\n\nShe examined the book. The Way of the Light, by Lothair Mantelar. Opening it, she read at random. \"Therefore abjure all pleasure, for goodness is a pure abstract, a perfect crystalline ideal which is obscured by base emotion. Pamper not the flesh. Flesh is weak but spirit is strong; flesh is useless where spirit is strong. Right thought is drowned in sensation, and right action hindered by passions. Take all joy from tightness, and rightness only.\" It seemed to be dry nonsense." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Min smiled at Gawyn, and even managed a titter." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So many words. I fear I know little of books, my Lord Gawyn. I always mean to read one-I do.\" She sighed. \"But there is so little time. Why, just fixing my hair properly takes hours. Do you think it is pretty?\" The outraged startlement on his face nearly made her laugh, but she changed it to a giggle. It was a pleasure to turn the tables on him fora change; she would have to see if she could do it more often. There were possibilities in this disguise she had not considered. This stay in the Tower had turned out to be all boredom and irritation. She deserved some amusement.\n\n\"Lothair Mantelar,\" Gawyn said in a tight voice, \"founded the Whitecloaks. The Whitecloaks!\"\n\n\"He was a great man,\" Galad said firmly. \"A philosopher of noble ideals. If the Children of the Light have sometimes been... excessive... since his day, it does not change that.\"\n\n\"Oh, my. Whitecloaks,\" Min said breathlessly, and added a little shudder. \"They are such rough men, I hear. I cannot imagine a Whitecloak dancing. Do you think there is any chance of a dance here? Aes Sedai do not seem to care for dancing either, and I do so love to dance.\" The frustration in Gawyn's eyes was delightful.\n\n\"I do not think so,\" Galad said, taking the book from her. \"Aes Sedai are too busy with... with their own affairs. If I hear of a suitable dance in the city, I will escort you, if you wish it. You need have no fear of being annoyed by those two louts.\" He smiled at her, unconscious of what he was doing, and she suddenly found herself breathless in truth. Men should not be allowed smiles like that." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It actually took her a moment to remember what two louts he was talking about. The two men who had supposedly asked for Elmindreda's hand in marriage, nearly fighting each other because she could not makeup her mind, pressing her to the point of seeking sanctuary in the Tower because she could not stop encouraging them both. Just the entire excuse for her being there. It's this dress, she told herself. I could think straight if I had on my proper clothes.\n\n\"I've noticed the Amyrlin speaks to you everyday,\" Gawyn said suddenly. \"Has she mentioned our sister Elayne? Or Egwene al'Vere? Has she said anything of where they are?\"\n\nMin wished she could black his eye. He did not know why she was pretending to be someone else, of course, but he had agreed to help her be accepted as Elmindreda, and now he was linking her to women too many in the Tower knew were friends of Min. \"Oh, the Amyrlin Seat is such a wonderful woman,\" she said sweetly, baring her teeth in a smile. \"She always asks how I am passing the time, and compliments my dress. I suppose she hopes I'll make a decision soon between Darvan and Goemal, but I just cannot.\" She widened her eyes, hoping it made her look helpless and confused. \"They are both so sweet. Who did you say? Your sister, my Lord Gawyn? The Daughter-Heir herself? I do not think I've ever heard the Amyrlin Seat mention her. What was the other name?\" She could hear Gawyn grinding his teeth.\n\n\"We should not bother Mistress Elmindreda with that,\" Galad said. \"It is our problem, Gawyn. It is up to us to find the lie and deal with it.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She barely heard him, because suddenly she was staring at a big man with long dark hair curling around slumped shoulders, wandering aimlessly down one of the graveled paths through the trees, under the watchful eyes of an Accepted. She had seen Logain before, a sad-faced, once-hearty man, always with an Accepted for companion. The woman was meant to keep him from killing himself as much as to prevent his escape; despite his size, he truly did not seem up to anything of the latter sort. But she had never before seen a flaring halo around his head, radiant in gold and blue. It was only therefor a moment, but that was enough.\n\nLogain had proclaimed himself the Dragon Reborn, had been captured and gentled. Whatever glory he might have had as a false Dragon was far behind him now. All that remained for him was the despair of the gentled, like a man who had been robbed of sight and hearing and taste, wanting to die, waiting for the death that inevitably came to such men in a few years. He glanced at her, perhaps not seeing her; his eyes looked hopelessly inward. So why had he worn a halo that shouted of glory and power to come? This was something she had to tell the Amyrlin.\n\n\"Poor fellow,\" Gawyn muttered. \"I cannot help pitying him. Light, it would be a mercy to let him end it. Why do they make him keep on living?\"\n\n\"He deserves no pity,\" Galad pronounced. \"Have you forgotten what he was, what he did? How many thousands died before he was taken? How many towns were burned? Let him live on as a warning to others.\"\n\nGawyn nodded, but reluctantly. \"Yet men followed him. Some of those towns were burned after they declared for him.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I have to go,\" Min said, getting to her feet, and Galad was instantly all solicitude.\n\n\"Forgive us, Mistress Elmindreda. We did not mean to frighten you. Logain cannot harm you. I give you my assurance.\"\n\n\"I... Yes, he's made me feel faint. Do excuse me. I really must go lie down.\"\n\nGawyn looked extremely skeptical, but he scooped up her basket before she could touch it. \"Let me see you part of the way, at least,\" he said, his voice oozing false concern. \"This basket must be too heavy for you, dizzy as you are. I'd not want you to swoon.\"\n\nShe wanted to snatch the basket and hit him with it, but that was not how Elmindreda would react. \"Oh, thank you, my Lord Gawyn. You are so kind. So kind. No, no, my Lord Galad. Do not let me encumber both of you. Do sit down here and read your book. Do say you will. I just could not bear it, otherwise.\" She even fluttered her eyelashes.\n\nSomehow she managed to ensconce Galad on the marble bench and getaway, though with Gawyn right beside her. Her skirts were an irritant; she wanted to pull them up to her knees and run, but Elmindreda would never run, and never expose so much of her legs except when dancing. Laras had lectured her severely on that very point; onetime running, and she would nearly destroy the image of Elmindreda completely. And Gawyn...!\n\n\"Give me that basket, you muscle-brained cretin,\" she snarled as soon as they were out of Galad's sight, and pulled it away from him before he could comply. \"What do you mean by asking me about Elayne and Egwene in front of him? Elmindreda never met them. Elmindreda does not care about them. Elmindreda doesn't want to be mentioned in the same sentence with them! Can't you understand that?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No,\" he said. \"Not since you won't explain. But I am sorry.\" There was hardly enough repentance in his voice to suit her. \"It is just that I am worried. Where are they? This news coming upriver about a false Dragon in Tear makes me no easier in my mind. They are out there, somewhere, the Light knows where, and I keep asking myself, what if they are in the middle of the sort of bonfire Logain made out of Ghealdan?\"\n\n\"What if he isn't a false Dragon?\" she asked cautiously.\n\n\"You mean because the stories in the streets say he's taken the Stone of Tear? Rumor has away of magnifying events. I will believe that when I see it, and in any case, it will take more to convince me. Even the Stone could fall. Light, I don't really believe Elayne and Egwene are in Tear, but the not knowing eats at my belly like acid. If she is hurt...\"\n\nMin did not know which'she\" he meant, and suspected he did not either. In spite of his teasing, her heart went out to him, but there was nothing she could do. \"If you could only do as I say and-\"\n\n\"I know. Trust the Amyrlin. Trust!\" He exhaled along breath. \"Do you know Galad has been drinking in the taverns with Whitecloaks? Anyone can cross the bridges if they come in peace, even Children of the bloody Light.\"\n\n\"Galad?\" she said incredulously. \"In taverns? Drinking?\"\n\n\"No more than a cup or two, I'm sure. He would not unbend more than that, not for his own nameday.\" Gawyn frowned as if unsure whether that might be a criticism of Galad. \"The point is that he is talking with Whitecloaks. And now this book. According to the inscription, Eamon Valda himself gave it to him.\"In the hope you will find the way. ' Valda, Min. The man commanding the Whitecloaks on the other side of the bridges. Not knowing is eating Galad up, too. Listening to Whitecloaks. If anything happens to our sister, or to Egwene...\" He shook his head. \"Do you know where they are, Min? Would you tell me if you did? Why are you hiding?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Because I drove two men mad with my beauty and cannot makeup my mind,\" she told him acidly.\n\nHe gave a bitter half-laugh, then masked it with a grin. \"Well, that at least I can believe.\" He chuckled, and stroked under her chin with a finger. \"You area very pretty girl, Elmindreda. A pretty, clever little girl.\"\n\nShe doubled a fist and tried to punch him in the eye, but he danced back, and she stumbled over her skirts and nearly fell. \"You bloody ox of a thimble-brained man!\" she growled.\n\n\"Such grace of movement, Elmindreda,\" he laughed. \"Such a dulcet voice, as a nightingale, or a cooing dove of the evening. What man would not grow starry-eyed at the sight of Elmindreda?\" The mirth slid away, and he faced her soberly. \"If you learn anything, please tell me. Please? I will beg on my knees, Min.\"\n\n\"I will tell you,\" she said. If I can. If it's safe for them. Light, but I hate this place. Why can't I just go back to Rand?\n\nShe left Gawyn there and entered the Tower proper by herself, keeping an eye out for Aes Sedai or Accepted who might question why she was above the ground floor and where she was going. The news of Logain was too important to wait until the Amyrlin encountered her, seemingly by accident, sometime in the late afternoon as usual. At least, that was what she told herself. Impatience threatened to pop out through her skin.\n\nShe only saw a few Aes Sedai, turning a corner ahead of her or entering a room in the distance, which was all to the good. No one simply dropped in on the Amyrlin Seat. The handful of servants she passed, all bustling about their work, did not question her, of course, or even look at her twice except to drop quick curtsies almost without pausing." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Pushing open the door to the Amyrlin's study, she had a simpering tale ready in case anyone was with Leane, but the antechamber was empty. She hurried to the inner door and put her head in. The Amyrlin and the Keeper were seated on either side of Siuan's table, which was littered with small strips of thin paper. Their heads swiveled toward her sharply, a stare like four nails.\n\n\"What are you doing here?\" the Amyrlin snapped. \"You are supposed to be a silly girl claiming sanctuary, not a friend of my childhood. There is to be no contact between us except the most casual, in passing. If necessary, I'll name Laras to watch over you like a nurse over a child. She would enjoy that, I think, but I doubt you would.\"\n\nMin shivered at the thought. Suddenly Logain did not seem so urgent; it was hardly likely he could achieve any glory in the next few days. He was not really why she had come, though, only an excuse, and she would not turn back now. Closing the door behind her, she stammered out what she had seen and what it meant. She still felt uncomfortable doing so in front of Leane.\n\nSiuan shook her head wearily. \"Another thing to worry about. Starvation in Cairhien. A sister missing in Tarabon. Trolloc raids increasing in the Borderlands again. This fool who calls himself the Prophet, stirring up riots in Ghealdan. He's apparently preaching that the Dragon has been Reborn as a Shienaran lord,\" she said incredulously. \"Even the small things are bad. The war in Arad Doman has stopped trade from Saldaea, and the pinch is making unrest in Maradon. Tenobia may even be forced off the throne by it. The only good news I have heard is that the Blight has retreated for some reason. Two miles or more of green beyond the borderstones, without a hint of corruption or pestilence, all the way from Saldaea to Shienar. The first time in memory it has done that. But I suppose good news has to be balanced by bad. When a boat has one leak it is sure to have others. I only wish it was a balance. Leane, have the watch on Logain increased. I can't see what trouble he could cause now, but I do not want to find out.\" She turned those piercing blue eyes on Min. \"Why did you come flapping up herewith this like a startled gull? Logain could have waited. The man is hardly likely to find power and glory before sunset.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The near echo of her own thoughts made Min shift uncomfortably. \"I know,\" she said, Leane's eyebrows rose warningly, and she added a hasty, \"Mother.\" The Keeper nodded approvingly.\n\n\"That does not tell me why, child,\" Siuan said.\n\nMin steeled herself. \"Mother, nothing I've viewed since the first day has been very important. I certainly have not seen anything that points to the Black Ajah.\" That name still gave her a chill. \"I've told you everything I know about whatever disaster you Aes Sedai are going to face, and the rest of it is just useless.\" She had to stop and swallow, with that penetrating gaze on her. \"Mother, there is no reason I should not go. There's reason I should. Perhaps Rand could make real use of what I can do. If he has taken the Stone... Mother, he may need me.\" At least I need him, burn me fora fool!\n\nThe Keeper shuddered openly at the mention of Rand's name. Siuan, on the other hand, snorted loudly. \"Your viewings have been very useful. It's important to know about Logain. You found the groom who was stealing before suspicion could land on anyone else. And that fire-haired novice who was going to get herself with child...! Sheriam cut that short-the girl won't even think of men until she's finished her training-but we'd not have known until it was too late, without you. No, you cannot go. Sooner or later your viewings will draw me a chart to the Black Ajah, and until they do, they still more than pay their passage.\"\n\nMin sighed, and not only because the Amyrlin meant to hold onto her. The last time she had seen that redheaded novice, the girl had been sneaking off to a wooded part of the grounds with a muscular guard. They would be married, maybe before the end of summer; Min had known that as soon as she saw them together, though the Tower never let a novice leave until the Tower was ready, even one who could not go any further in her training. There was a farm in that pair's future, and a swarm of children, but it was pointless to tell the Amyrlin that." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Could you at least let Gawyn and Galad know that Egwene and their sister are all right, Mother?\" Asking irked her, and her tone of voice did, too. A child denied a slice of cake begging fora cookie instead. \"At least tell them something besides that ridiculous tale about doing penance on a farm.\"\n\n\"I have told you that is none of your concern. Do not make me tell you again.\"\n\n\"They don't believe it anymore than I do,\" Min got out before the Amyrlin's dry smile quieted her. It was not an amused smile.\n\n\"So you suggest I change where they are supposed to be? After letting everyone think them on a farm? Do you suppose that might raise a few eyebrows? Everyone but those boys accepts it. And you. Well, Coulin Gaidin will just have to work them that much harder. Sore muscles and enough sweat will take most men's minds off other troubles. Women's minds too. You ask many more questions, and I'll see what a few days scrubbing pots will do for you. Better to lose your services for two or three days than have you poking your nose where it does not belong.\"\n\n\"You don't even know if they are in trouble, do you? Or Moiraine.\" It was not Moiraine she meant.\n\n\"Girl,\" Leane said warningly, but Min was not to be stopped now.\n\n\"Why haven't we heard? Rumors reached here two days ago. Two days! Why doesn't one of those slips on your desk contain a message from her? Doesn't she have pigeons? I thought you Aes Sedai had people with messenger pigeons everywhere. If there isn't one in Tear, there should be. A man on horseback could have reached Tar Valon before now. Why-?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The flat crack of Siuan's palm on the table cut her off. \"You obey remarkably well,\" she said wryly. \"Child, until we hear something to the contrary, assume the young man is well. Pray that he is.\" Leane shivered again. \"There's a saying in the Maule, child,\" the Amyrlin went on. \"\"Do not trouble trouble till trouble troubles you.\" Mark it well, child.\"\n\nThere was a timid knock at the door.\n\nThe Amyrlin and the Keeper exchanged glances; then two sets of eyes shifted to Min. Her presence was a problem. There was certainly nowhere to hide; even the balcony was clearly visible from the room in its entirety.\n\n\"A reason for you to be here,\" Siuan muttered, \"that doesn't make you anymore than the fool girl you're supposed to be. Leane, stand ready at the door.\" She and the Keeper were on their feet together, Siuan coming around the table while Leane moved to the door. \"Take Leane's seat, girl. Move your feet, child; move your feet. Now look sulky. Not angry, sulky! Stick your lower lip out and stare at the floor. I may make you wear ribbons in your hair, huge red bows. That's it. Leane.\" The Amyrlin put her fists on her hips and raised her voice. \"And if you ever walk in on me unannounced again, child, I will...\"\n\nLeane pulled the door open to reveal a dark novice who flinched at Siuan's continuing tirade, then dropped a deep curtsy. \"Messages for the Amyrlin, Aes Sedai,\" the girl squeaked. \"Two pigeons arrived at the loft.\" She was one of those who had told Min she was beautiful, and she tried to stare past the Keeper with wide eyes." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"This does not concern you, child,\" Leane said briskly, taking the tiny cylinders of bone out of the girl's hand. \"Back to the loft with you.\" Before the novice finished rising, Leane shut the door, then leaned against it with a sigh. \"I have jumped at every unexpected sound since you told me...\" Straightening, she came back to the table. \"Two more messages, Mother. Shall I...?\"\n\n\"Yes. Open them,\" the Amyrlin said. \"No doubt Morgase has decided to invade Cairhien after all. Or Trollocs have overrun the Borderlands. It would be of apiece with everything else.\" Min kept her seat; Siuan had sounded all too realistic with some of those threats.\n\nLeane examined the red wax seal on the end of one of the small cylinders, no larger than her own finger joint, then broke it open with a thumbnail when she was satisfied it had not been tampered with. The rolled paper inside she extracted with a slim ivory pick. \"Nearly as bad as Trollocs, Mother,\" she said almost as soon as she began reading. \"Mazrim Taim has escaped.\"\n\n\"Light!\" Siuan barked. \"How?\"\n\n\"This only says he was taken away by stealth in the night, Mother. Two sisters are dead.\"\n\n\"The Light illumine their souls. But we've little time to mourn the dead while the likes of Taim are alive and ungentled. Where, Leane?\"\n\n\"Denhuir, Mother. A village east of the Black Hills on the Maradon Road, above the headwaters of the Antaeo and the Luan.\"\n\n\"It had to be some of his followers. Fools. Why won't they know when they are beaten? Choose out a dozen reliable sisters, Leane...\" The Amyrlin grimaced. \"Reliable,\" she muttered. \"If I knew who was more reliable than a silverpike, I'd not have the problems I do. Do the best you can, Leane. A dozen sisters. And five hundred of the guards. No, a full thousand.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Mother,\" the Keeper said worriedly. \"The Whitecloaks-\"\n\n\"-would not try to cross the bridges if I left them unwatched entirely. They would be afraid of a trap. There is no telling what is going on up there, Leane. I want whoever I send to be ready for anything. And Leane... Mazrim Taim is to be gentled as soon as he is taken again.\"\n\nLeane's eyes opened wide with shock. \"The law.\"\n\n\"I know the law as well as you, but I will not risk having him freed again ungentled. I'll not risk another Guaire Amalasan, not on top of everything else.\"\n\n\"Yes, Mother,\" Leane said faintly.\n\nThe Amyrlin picked up the second bone cylinder and snapped it in two with a sharp crack to get the message out. \"Good news at last,\" she breathed, a smile blooming on her face. \"Good news. \"The sling has been used. The shepherd holds the sword.\"\"\n\n\"Rand?\" Min asked, and Siuan nodded.\n\n\"Of course, girl. The Stone has fallen. Rand al'Thor, the shepherd, has Callandor. Now I can move. Leane, I want the Hall of the Tower convened this afternoon. No, this morning.\"\n\n\"I don't understand,\" Min said. \"You knew the rumors were about Rand. Why are you calling the Hall now? What can you do that you could not before?\"\n\nSiuan laughed like a girl. \"What I can do now is tell them right out that I have received word from an Aes Sedai that the Stone of Tear has fallen and a man has drawn Callandor. Prophecy fulfilled. Enough of it for my purpose, at least. The Dragon is Reborn. They'll flinch, they'll argue, but none can oppose my pronouncement that the Tower must guide this man. At last I can involve myself with him openly. Openly for the most part.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Carry on with the narrative as the plot partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, prophecy\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: The Shadow Rising\nChapter: 29" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He was more cautious with his next step, but it was only a step. There was no evidence of archer or ravens, no track, no feather, no scent. He was not sure what he had expected. There would be no sign unless they had been in the dream, too. But if he could find wolves in the dream, they could help him find their brothers and sisters in the waking world, and those wolves could tell him if there were Shadowspawn in the mountains. Perhaps if he were higher up they could hear him call.\n\nFixing his eye on the highest peak bordering the valley, just below the clouds, he stepped. The world blurred, and he was standing on the mountainside, with white billows not five spans overhead. In spite of himself, he laughed. This was fun. From here he could seethe entire valley stretched out below.\n\n\"Hopper!\" No answer.\n\nHe leaped to the next mountain, calling, and the next, and the next, eastward, toward the Two Rivers. Hopper did not answer. More troubling, Perrin did not sense any other wolves, either. There were always wolves in the wolf dream. Always.\n\nFrom peak to peak he sped in blurred motion, calling, seeking. The mountains lay empty beneath him, except for deer and other game. Yet there were occasional signs of men. Ancient signs. Twice great carved figures took nearly an entire mountainside, and in another place strange angular letters two spans high had been incised across a cliff a shade too smooth and sheer. Weathering had worn away the figures' faces, and eyes less sharp than his might have taken the letters themselves for the work of wind and rain. Mountains and cliffs gave way to the Sand Hills, great rolling mounds sparsely covered with tough grass and stubborn bushes, once the shore of a great sea before the Breaking. And suddenly he saw another man, atop a sandy hill." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The fellow was too distant to see clearly, just a tall, dark-haired man, but plainly not a Trolloc or anything of the sort, in a blue coat with a bow on his back, stooping over something on the ground hidden by the low brush. Yet there was something familiar about him.\n\nThe wind rose, and Perrin caught his smell faintly. A cold scent, that was the only way to describe it. Cold, and not really human. Suddenly his own bow was in his hand, an arrow nocked, and the weight of a filled quiver tugged at his belt.\n\nThe other man looked up, saw Perrin. Fora heartbeat he hesitated, then turned and became a streak, slashing away across the hills.\n\nPerrin leaped down to where he had stood, stared at what had occupied the fellow, and without thought pursued, leaving the half-skinned corpse of a wolf behind. A dead wolf in the wolf dream. It was unthinkable. What could kill a wolf here? Something evil.\n\nHis prey ran ahead of him in strides that covered miles, nevermore than barely insight. Out of the hills and across the tangled Westwood with its wide scattered farms, over cleared farmland, a quilt of hedged fields and small thickets, and past Watch Hill. It was odd to seethe thatched village houses covering the hill with no people in the streets, and farmhouses standing as if abandoned. But he kept his eye on the man fleeing ahead of him. He had become soused to this pursuit that he felt no surprise when one leaping stride put him down on the south bank of the River Taren and the next amid barren hills without trees or grass. North and east he ran, over streams and roads and villages and rivers, intent only on the man ahead. The land grew flat and grassy, broken by scattered thickets, without any sign of man. Then something glittered ahead, sparkling in the sun, a tower of metal. His quarry sped straight for it, and vanished. Two leaps brought Perrin there as well." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Two hundred feet the tower rose, and forty thick, gleaming like burnished steel." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It might as well have been a solid column of metal. Perrin walked around it twice without seeing any opening, not so much as a crack, not even a mark on that smooth, sheer wall. The smell hung here, though, that cold, inhuman stink. The trail ended here. The man-if man he was-had gone inside somehow. He only had to find the way to follow.\n\nStop! It was a raw flow of emotion that Perrin's mind put a word to. Stop!\n\nHe turned as a great gray wolf as tall as his waist, grizzled and scarred, alighted as if he had just leaped down from the sky. He might well have. Hopper had always envied eagles their ability to fly, and here, he could too. Yellow eyes met yellow eyes.\n\n\"Why should I stop, Hopper? He killed a wolf.\"\n\nMen have killed wolves, and wolves men. Why does anger seize your throat like fire this time?\n\n\"I don't know,\" Perrin said slowly. \"Maybe because it was here. I didn't know it was possible to kill a wolf here. I thought wolves were safe in the dream.\"\n\nYou chase Slayer, Young Bull. He is herein the flesh, and he can kill.\n\n\"In the flesh? You mean not just dreaming? How can he be herein the flesh?\"\n\nI do not know. It is a thing dimly remembered from long ago, come again as so much else. Things of the Shadow walk the dream, now. Creatures of Heartfang. There is no safety.\n\n\"Well, he's inside, now.\" Perrin studied the featureless metal tower. \"If I can find how he got in, I can put an end to him.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Cub foolish, digging in a groundwasps' nest. This place a evil. All know this. And you would chase evil into evil. Slayer can kill.\n\nPerrin paused. There was a sense of finality to the emotions his mind attached the word'kill\" to. \"Hopper, what happens to a wolf who dies in the dream?\"\n\nThe wolf was silent fora time. If we die here, we die forever, Young Bull. I do not know if the same is true for you, but I believe it is.\n\n\"A dangerous place, archer. The Tower of Ghenjei is a bad place for humankind.\"\n\nPerrin whirled, half-raising his bow before he saw the woman standing a few paces away, her golden hair in a thick braid to her waist, almost the way women wore it in the Two Rivers, but more intricately woven. Her clothes were oddly cut, a short white coat and voluminous trousers of some thin pale yellow material gathered at the ankles above short boots. Her dark cloak seemed to hide something that glinted silver at her side.\n\nShe shifted, and the metallic flicker vanished. \"You have sharp eyes, archer. I thought that the first time I saw you.\"\n\nHow long had shebeen watching? It was embarrassing that she had sneaked up without him hearing. At the least Hopper should have warned him. The wolf was lying down in the knee high grass, muzzle on his forepaws, watching him.\n\nThe woman seemed vaguely familiar, though Perrin was certain he would have remembered her had he ever seen her before. Who was she, to be in the wolf dream? Or was it Moiraine's Tel'aran'rhiod, too? \"Are you Aes Sedai?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"No, archer.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She laughed. \"I only came to warn you, despite the prescripts. Once entered, the Tower of Ghenjei is hard enough to leave in the world of men. Here it is all but impossible. You have a Bannerman's courage, which some say cannot be told from foolhardiness.\"\n\nImpossible to leave? The fellow-Slayer-surely had gone in. Why would he do that if he could not leave? \"Hopper said it's dangerous, too. The Tower of Ghenjei? What is it?\"\n\nHer eyes widened, and she glanced at Hopper, who still lay stretched out on the grass ignoring her and watching Perrin. \"You can talk to wolves? Now that is a thing long lost in legend. So that is how you are here. I should have known. The tower? It is a doorway, archer, to the realms of the Aelfinn and the Eelfinn.\" She said the names as if he should recognize them. When he looked at her blankly, she said, \"Did you ever play the game called Snakes and Foxes?\"\n\n\"All children do. At least, they do in the Two Rivers. But they give it up when they get old enough to realize there's noway to win.\"\n\n\"Except to break the rules,\" she said. \"\"Courage to strengthen, fire to blind, music to daze, iron to bind.\"\"\n\n\"That's a line from the game. I don't understand. What does it have to do with this tower?\"\n\n\"Those are the ways to win against the snakes and the foxes. The game is a remembrance of old dealings. It does not matter so long as you stay away from the Aelfinn and the Eelfinn. They are not evil the way the Shadow is evil, yet they are so different from humankind they might as well be. They are not to be trusted, archer. Stay clear of the Tower of Ghenjei. Avoid the World of Dreams, if you can. Dark things walk.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Like the man I was chasing?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Slayer.\"\n\n\"A good name for him. This Slayer is not old, archer, but his evil is ancient.\" She almost appeared to be leaning slightly on something invisible; perhaps that silver thing he had never quite seen. \"I seem to be telling you a great deal. I do not understand why I spoke in the first place. Of course. Are you ta'veren, archer?\"\n\n\"Who are you?\" She seemed to know a lot about the tower, and the wolf dream. But she was surprised I could talk to Hopper. \"I've met you before somewhere, I think.\"\n\n\"I have broken too many of the prescripts already, archer.\"\n\n\"Prescripts? What prescripts?\" A shadow fell on the ground behind Hopper, and Perrin turned quickly, angry at being caught by surprise again. There was no one there. But he had seen it; the shadow of a man with the hilts of two swords rising above his shoulders. Something about that image teased his memory.\n\n\"He is right,\" the woman said behind him. \"I should not be talking to you.\"\n\nWhen he turned back, she was gone. As far as he could see were only grassland and scattered thickets. And the gleaming, silvery tower.\n\nHe frowned at Hopper, who finally lifted his head from his paws. \"It's a wonder you aren't attacked by chipmunks,\" Perrin muttered. \"What did you make of her?\"\n\nHer? Ashe? Hopper stood, looking around. Where?\n\n\"I was talking to her. Right here. Just now.\"\n\nYou made noises at the wind, Young Bull. There was no she here. None but you and I.\n\nPerrin scratched his beard irritably. She had been there. He had not been talking to himself. \"Strange things can happen here,\" he told himself. \"She agreed with you, Hopper. She told me to stay away from this tower.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She is wise. There was an element of doubt in the thought; Hopper still did not believe there had been any'she.\"\n\n\"I've come awfully far afield from what I intended,\" Perrin muttered. He explained his need to find wolves in the Two Rivers, or the mountains above, explained about the ravens, and the Trollocs in the Ways.\n\nWhen he was done, Hopper remained silent fora longtime, his bushy tail held low and stiff. Finally... Avoid your old home, Young Bull. The image Perrin's mind called'home\" was of the land marked by a wolfpack. There are no wolves there now. Those who were and did not flee are dead. Slayer walks the dream there.\n\n\"I have to go home, Hopper. I have to.\"\n\nTake care, Young Bull. The day of the Last Hunt draws near. We will run together in the Last Hunt.\n\n\"We will,\" Perrin said sadly. It would be nice if he could come here when he died; he was half wolf already, it seemed sometimes. \"I have to go now, Hopper.\"\n\nMay you know good hunting, Young Bull, and shes to give you many cubs.\n\n\"Goodbye, Hopper.\"\n\nHe opened his eyes to the dim light of dying coals on the mountainside. Gaul was squatting just beyond the edge of the light, watching the night. In the other camp, Faile was up, taking her turn at guard. The moon hung above the mountains, turning the clouds to pearly shadows. Perrin estimated he had been asleep two hours.\n\n\"I'll keep guard awhile,\" he said, tossing off his cloak. Gaul nodded and settled himself on the ground where he was. \"Gaul?\" The Aiel raised his head. \"It maybe worse in the Two Rivers than I thought.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Things often are,\" Gaul replied quietly. \"It is the way of life.\" The Aielman calmly put his head down for sleep.\n\nSlayer. Who was he? What was he? Shadowspawn at the Waygate, ravens in the Mountains of Mist, and this man called Slayer in the Two Rivers. It could not be coincidence, however much he wished it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The journey into the Westwood that had taken him perhaps half a dozen strides or so in the wolf dream, out of the mountains and across the Sand Hills, lasted three long days on horses. The Aiel had no trouble keeping up afoot, but then the animals themselves could not manage much speed with the land mostly up and down as it was. Perrin's wounds itched fiercely, healing; Faile's ointment seemed to be working.\n\nIt was a quiet journey by and large, broken more often by the bark of a hunting fox or the echoing cry of a hawk than by anyone speaking. At least they saw no more ravens. More than once he thought Faile was about to bring her mare over close to him, about to say something, but each time she restrained herself. He was glad of it; he wanted to talk to her more than anything, but what if he found himself making up with her? He berated himself for wanting to. She had tricked Loial, tricked him. She was going to make everything worse; make it harder. He wished he could kiss her again. He wished she would decide she had had her fill of him and go. Why did she have to be so stubborn?\n\nShe and the two Aiel women kept to themselves, Bain and Chiad striding along on either side of Swallow when one or the other was not ranging ahead. Sometimes the three of them murmured softly among themselves, after which they avoided looking at him so pointedly that they might as well have thrown rocks. Loial rode with them at Perrin's request, though the situation obviously upset him no end. Loial's ears twitched as if he wished he had never heard of humans. Gaul seemed to find the entire thing vastly amusing; whenever Perrin looked at him, he wore an inward grin." }, { "from": "human", "value": "For himself, Perrin traveled wrapped in worry, and kept his strung bow across the tall pommel of his saddle." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Did this man called Slayer rove the Two Rivers only in the wolf dream, or was he in the waking world, too? Perrin suspected the latter, and that Slayer was the one who had shot the hawk for no reason. It was another complication he could do without, on top of the Children of the Light.\n\nHis family lived on a sprawling farm more than half a day beyond Emond's Field, almost to the Waterwood. His father and mother, his sisters, his baby brother. Paetram would be nine now, no doubt objecting more strenuously than ever to being called the baby, Deselle a plump twelve, and Adora sixteen, probably ready to braid her hair. Uncle Eward, his da's brother, and Aunt Magde, stout and looking nearly alike, and their children. Aunt Neain, who visited Uncle Carlin's grave every morning, and their children, and Great Aunt Ealsin, who had never married, with her sharp nose and sharper eye for discovering what everyone for miles around was up to. Once apprenticed to Master Luhhan, he had seen them only on feastdays; the distance was too great for casual travel, and there had always been work to do. If the Whitecloaks hunted for Aybaras, they were easy to find. They were his responsibility, not this Slayer. He could only do so much. Protect his family, and Faile. That was first. Then came the village, and the wolves, and this Slayer last. One man could not manage everything.\n\nThe Westwood grew on stony soil broken by bramble covered outcrops, a hard, thickly treed land with few farms or paths. He had wandered these heavy woods as a boy, alone or with Rand and Mat, hunting with bow or sling, setting snares for rabbits or simply roaming for the sake of roaming. Bushy-tailed squirrels chittering in the trees, speckled thrushes warbling on branches imitated by black-winged mockers, bluebacked quail bursting up out of the brush in front of the travelers-all spoke to him of home. The very smell of the dirt the horses' hooves turned was a recognition." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He could have headed straight for Emond's Field, but instead he angled more northward through the forest, finally crossing the wide, rough track called the Quarry Road as the sun slanted down toward the treetops. Why'quarry\" no one in the Two Rivers knew, and it scarcely looked a road at all, only a weedy stretch that you did not even notice was bare of trees until you saw the overgrown ruts from generations of wagons and carts. Sometimes shards of old pavement worked their way to the surface. Perhaps it had led to a quarry for Manetheren.\n\nThe farm Perrin sought lay not far from the road, beyond rows of apple and pear trees where fruit was setting. He smelled the farm before he saw it. The smell of char; not new, yet a full year would not soften that smell.\n\nHe reined in at the edge of the trees and sat staring before he made himself ride into what had been the al'Thor farm, the packhorse trailing behind his dun. Only the stonewalled sheep pen still stood, railed gate open and hanging by one hinge. The soot-blackened chimney cast a slanting shadow across the tumbled burned beams of the farmhouse. The barn and the tabac-curing shed were only ashes. Weeds choked the tabac field and the vegetable garden, and the garden had a trampled look; most of what was not sawleaf or feathertop lay broken and brown.\n\nHe did not even think of nocking an arrow. The fire was weeks old, the burned wood slicked and dulled by past rains. Chokevine needed nearly a month to grow that tall. It had even enveloped the plow and harrow lying beside the field; rust showed under the pale, narrow leaves.\n\nThe Aiel searched carefully, though, spears ready and eyes wary, quartering the ground and poking through the ashes. When Bain clambered out of the ruins of the house, she looked at Perrin and shook her head. At least Tam al'Thor had not died in there." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They know. They know, Rand. You should have come. It was very nearly more than he could do to stop from putting Stepper to a gallop, keeping him there all the way to his family's farm. Trying to, at least; even Stepper would fall dead before he ran that far. Maybe this was Trolloc work. If it was Trollocs, maybe his family was still working their farm, still safe. He drew a deep breath, but the char obliterated any other smell.\n\nGaul stopped beside him. \"Whoever did this is long gone. They killed some of the sheep and scattered the rest. Someone came later to gather the flock and drive it off north. Two men, I think, but the tracks are too old to be sure.\"\n\n\"Is there any clue to who did it?\" Gaul shook his head. It could have been Trollocs. Strange, to wish fora thing like that. And foolish. The Whitecloaks knew his name, and they knew Rand's as well, it seemed. They know my name. He looked at the ashes of the al'Thor farmhouse, and Stepper moved as the reins trembled in his hands.\n\nLoial had dismounted at the edge of the fruit trees, but his head was still in the branches. Faile rode toward Perrin, studying his face, her mare stepping delicately. \"Is this...? Do you know the people who lived here?\"\n\n\"Rand and his father.\"\n\n\"Oh. I thought it might be...\" The relief and sympathy in her voice were enough to finish the sentence. \"Does your family live near?\"\n\n\"No,\" he said curtly, and she recoiled as if slapped. But she still watched him, waiting. What did he have to do to drive her away? More than he could bring himself to, if he had not managed it already." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The shadows were growing longer, the sun sitting on the treetops." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He reined Stepper around, rudely turning his back on her. \"Gaul, we will have to camp close by tonight. I want to start early in the morning.\" He sneaked a glance over his shoulder; Faile was riding back to Loial, sitting stiff in her saddle. \"In Emond's Field, they will know...\" Where the Whitecloaks were, so he could turn himself in before they hurt his family. If his family was all right. If the farm where he had been born was not already like this. No. He had to be in time to stop that. \"They'll know how things are.\"\n\n\"Early, then.\" Gaul hesitated. \"You will not drive her off. That one is almost Far Dareis Mai, and if a Maiden loves you, you cannot escape her however hard you run.\"\n\n\"You let me worry about Faile.\" He softened his voice; it was not Gaul he wanted to be rid of. \"Very early. While Faile is still asleep.\"\n\nBoth camps, beneath the apple trees, were quiet that night. Several times one or the other of the Aid women stood, staring toward the small fire where he and Gaul sat, but an owl hooting and the horses stamping were the only sounds. Perrin could not sleep, and it was still an hour short of first light, with the full moon setting, when he and Gaul slipped away, the Aiel silent in his soft boots and the horses' hooves making little more noise. Bain, or maybe Chiad, watched them go. He could not tell which, but she did not wake Faile, and he was grateful.\n\nThe sun had climbed well up by the time they came out of the Westwood a little below the village, amid cart tracks and paths, most bordered by hedges or low rough stonewalls. Smoke made feathery gray plumes above farmhouse chimneys, goodwives doing the morning's baking, by the smell. Men dotted the fields of tabac or barley, and boys watched flocks of black-faced sheep in the pastures. Some people took note of their passing, but Perrin kept Stepper at a fast walk and hoped none were close enough to recognize him or wonder at the strangeness of Gaul's clothes, or his spears." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "People would be out and about in Emond's Field, too, so he circled around to the east, wide of the village, wide of the hard packed dirt streets and thatched roofs clustered around the Green, where the Winespring itself gushed from a stone outcrop with enough force to knock a man down and gave birth to the Winespring Water. The damage he remembered from Winternight a year gone, the burned houses and charred roofs, were all rebuilt and repaired. The Trollocs might as well never have comeback then. He prayed no one would have to live through that again. The Winespring Inn stood practically at the eastern end of Emond's Field, between the stout wooden Wagon Bridge across the rushing Winespring Water and a huge old stone foundation with a great oak growing up through the middle of it. Tables beneath the thick branches were where folk sat of a fine afternoon and watched the play at bowls. At this hour of the morning, the tables were empty, of course. There were only a few houses farther east. The inn itself was river rock on the first floor, with a whitewashed second story jutting out all the way around and a dozen chimneys rising above a glittering red tile roof, the only tile roof for miles.\n\nTying Stepper and the packhorse to a hitchpost near the kitchen door, Perrin glanced at the thatch roofed stable. He could hear men working in there, probably Hu and Tad, mucking out the stalls where Master al'Vere kept the big Dhurran team he rented out for heavy hauling. There were sounds from the other side of the inn, too, the murmur of voices on the Green, geese honking, the rumble of a wagon. What was on the horses, he left; this would be a shortstop. He motioned for Gaul to follow and hurried inside, carrying his bow, before either stableman could come out." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The kitchen was empty, both iron stoves and all but one fireplace cold, though the smell of baking still hung in the air. Bread and honeycakes. The inn seldom had guests except when merchants came down from Baerlon to buy wool or tabac, or a monthly peddler when snow had not made the road impassable, and the village folk who might come fora drink or a meal later in the day would all be hard at work at their own homes now. Someone might be there, though, so Perrin tiptoed along the short hallway leading from the kitchen to the common room and cracked the door to peek inside.\n\nHe had seen that square room a thousand times, with its fireplace of river stones stretching half the room's length, the lintel as high as a man's shoulder, Master al'Vere's polished tabac canister and prized clock sitting on the mantel. It all seemed smaller than it had, somehow. The tall-backed chairs in front of the fireplace were where the Village Council met. Brandelwyn al'Vere's books sat on a shelf opposite the fireplace-once, Perrin had been unable to imagine more books in one place than those few dozen mostly worn volumes-and casks of ale and wine lined another wall. Scratch, the inn's yellow cat, sprawled asleep as usual atop one.\n\nExcept for Bran al'Vere himself and his wife, Marin, in long white aprons, polishing the inn's silver and pewter atone of the tables, the common room stood empty. Master al'Vere was a wide, round man, with a sparse fringe of gray hair; Mistress al'Vere was slender and motherly, her thick, graying braid pulled over one shoulder. She smelled of baking, and under that of roses. Perrin remembered them as smiling people, but both looked intent now, and the Mayor wore a frown that surely had nothing to do with the silver cup in his hands." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Master al'Vere?\" He pushed open the door and went in. \"Mistress al'Vere. It's Perrin.\"\n\nThey sprang to their feet, knocking their chairs over and making Scratch jump. Mistress al'Vere clapped her hands to her mouth; she and her husband gaped as much at him as they did at Gaul. It was enough to make Perrin shift his bow awkwardly from hand to hand. Especially when Bran hurried to one of the front windows-he moved with surprising lightness fora man of his bulk-and twitched the summer curtains aside to peer out, as though for more Aiel outside.\n\n\"Perrin?\" Mistress al'Vere murmured disbelievingly. \"It is you. I almost didn't know you, with that beard, and-Your cheek. Were you-? Is Egwene with you?\"\n\nPerrin touched the half-healed slash across his cheek self-consciously, wishing he had cleaned up, or at least left the bow and axe in the kitchen. He had not considered how his appearance might frighten them. \"No. This has nothing to do with her. She is safe.\" Safer on her way back to Tar Valon, perhaps, than if still in Tear with Rand, but safe in either case. He supposed he had to give Egwene's mother something more than that bald statement. \"Mistress al'Vere, Egwene is studying to be Aes Sedai. Nynaeve, too.\"\n\n\"I know,\" she said quietly, touching the pocket on her apron. \"I have three letters from her in Tar Valon. From what she writes she sent more, and Nynaeve at least one, but only three of Egwene's have reached us. She tells something of her training, which I must say sounds very hard.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It is what she wants.\" Three letters? Guilt made him shrug uncomfortably. He had not written a letter to anyone, not since the notes he had left for his family and Master Luhhan the night Moiraine took him away from Emond's Field. Not one.\n\n\"So it seems, though not what I had envisioned for her. It isn't something I can tell many people about, now is it? She says she's made friends, anyway, nice girls by the sound of them. Elayne, and Min. Do you know them?\"\n\n\"We have met. I think you could call them nice girls.\" How much had Egwene told in those letters? Not much, evidently. Let Mistress al'Vere think what she would; he had no intention of worrying her over things she could do nothing about. What was past, was past. Egwene was safe enough now.\n\nAbruptly realizing that Gaul was just standing there, he made hasty introductions. Bran blinked when Gaul was named Aiel, and frowned at his spears and the black veil hanging down his chest from his shoufa, but his wife merely said, \"Be welcome to Emond's Field, Master Gaul, and to the Winespring Inn.\"\n\n\"May you always have water and shade, roofmistress,\" Gaul said formally, bowing to her. \"I ask leave to defend your roof and hold.\"\n\nShe barely hesitated before replying as if that were exactly what she was used to hearing. \"A gracious offer. But you must allow me to decide when it is needed.\"\n\n\"As you say, roofmistress. Your honor is mine.\" From under his coat, Gaul produced a gold saltcellar, a small bowl balanced on the back of a cunningly made lion, and extended it to her. \"I offer this small guest gift to your roof.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Marin al'Vere made over it as she would have any gift, hardly showing her shock. Perrin doubted there was apiece to equal it in the whole Two Rivers, certainly not in gold. There was little enough gold coin in the Two Rivers, much less gold ornaments. He hoped she never found out it had been looted from the Stone of Tear; at least he would have wagered that it had.\n\n\"My boy,\" Bran said, \"perhaps I should be saying \"welcome home,\" but why did you return?\"\n\n\"I heard about the Whitecloaks, sir,\" Perrin replied simply.\n\nThe Mayor and his wife shared somber looks, and Bran said, \"Again, why did you return? You cannot stop anything, my boy, or change anything. Best that you go. If you don't have a horse, I will give you one. If you do, climb back in your saddle and ride north. I thought the Whitecloaks were guarding Taren Ferry... Did they give you that decoration on your face?\"\n\n\"No. It-\"\n\n\"Then it doesn't matter. If you got past them coming in, you can get past to leave. Their main camp is up at Watch Hill, but their patrols can be anywhere. Do it, my boy.\"\n\n\"Don't wait, Perrin,\" Mistress al'Vere added quietly but firmly, in that voice that usually ended with people doing as she said. \"Not even an hour. I'll make you a bundle to take with you. Some fresh bread and cheese, some ham and roast beef, pickles. You must go, Perrin.\"\n\n\"I cannot. You know they are after me, or you'd not want me to go.\" And they had not commented on his eyes, even to ask if he was ill. Mistress al'Vere had barely been surprised. They knew. \"If I give myself up, I can stop some of it. I can keep my family-\" He jumped as the hall door banged open to admit Faile, followed by Bain and Chiad." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Master al'Vere ran a handover his bald head; even taking in the Aiel women's garb and obviously identifying them with Gaul, he only seemed a little bemused that they were women. Mainly he looked irritated at the intrusion. Scratch sat up to stare suspiciously at all these strangers. Perrin wondered whether the cat considered him one, as well. He wondered how they had found him, too, and where Loial was. Anything to avoid wondering how he was going to manage Faile now.\n\nShe gave him little time to ponder, planting herself in front of him with fists on hips. Somehow she managed that trick women had, making herself seem taller through pure quivering outrage. \"Give yourself up? Give yourself up! Have you been planning this from the start? You have, haven't you? You utter idiot! Your brain has frozen solid, Perrin Aybara. It was nothing but muscle and hair to begin, but now it isn't even that. If Whitecloaks are hunting you, they will hang you if you surrender to them. Why should they want you?\"\n\n\"Because I killed Whitecloaks.\" Looking down at her, he ignored Mistress al'Vere's gasp. \"Those the night I met you, and two before that. They know about those two, Faile, and they think I'm a Darkfriend.\" She would learn that much soon enough. Brought to the point of it, he might have told her why, had they been alone. At least two Whitecloaks, Geofram Bornhald and Jaret Byar, suspected something of his connection with wolves. Not nearly all, but for them the little was enough. A man who ran with wolves had to be a Darkfriend. Maybe one or both was with the Whitecloaks here. \"They believe it for true.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You are no more a Darkfriend than I,\" she whispered harshly. \"The sun could be a Darkfriend first.\"\n\n\"It makes no difference, Faile. I have to do what I have to do.\"\n\n\"You addle-brained lummox! You don't have to do any such crackpate thing! You goose-brain! If you try it, I'll hang you myself!\"\n\n\"Perrin,\" Mistress al'Vere said quietly, \"would you introduce me to this young woman who thinks so highly of you?\"\n\nFaile's face went bright red when she realized she had been ignoring Master and Mistress al'Vere, and she began making elaborate curtsies and offered flowery apologies. Bain and Chiad did as Gaul had, asking leave to defend Mistress al'Vere's roof and giving her a small golden bowl worked in leaves and an ornate silver pepper mill bigger than Perrin's two fists, topped by some fanciful creature half horse, half fish.\n\nBran al'Vere stared and frowned, rubbed his head and muttered to himself. Perrin caught the word'Aiel\" more than once in an incredulous tone. The Mayor kept glancing at the windows, too. Not wondering about more Aiel; he had been surprised to learn Gaul was Aiel. Maybe he was worried about Whitecloaks.\n\nMarin al'Vere, on the other hand, took it all in stride, treating Faile and Bain and Chiad the same as any other young women travelers who came to the inn, commiserating with them over how tiring travel was, complimenting Faile on her riding dress-dark blue silk, today-and telling the Aiel women how she admired the color and sheen of their hair. Perrin suspected that Bain and Chiad, at least, did not know quite what to make of her, but in short order, with a sort of calm motherly firmness, she had all three women settled at a table with damp towels to wipe journey dust from hands and faces, sipping tea she poured from a large red-striped pot he remembered well." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It might have been amusing seeing those fierce women-he certainly included Faile-suddenly eager to assure Mistress al'Vere that they were more than comfortable, was there nothing they could do to help, she was doing too much, all of them wide eyed as children, with a child's chance of resisting her. It would have been amusing if she had not included himself and Gaul, sweeping them just as firmly to the table, insisting on clean hands and clean faces before they got a cup of tea. Gaul wore a small grin the whole time; Aiel had a strange sense of humor.\n\nSurprisingly, she never glanced at his bow or axe, or the Aiel's weapons. People seldom carried even a bow in the Two Rivers, and she always insisted such beset aside before anyone took a place atone of her tables. Always. But she just ignored them now.\n\nAnother surprise came when Bran placed a silver cup of apple brandy at Perrin's elbow, not the small tot that men usually drank at the inn, barely enough to cover the last joint of the thumb, but half-full. When he had left he would have been offered cider if not milk, or perhaps well-watered wine, a half-cup with a meal or a full one on a feastday. It was gratifying to be recognized as a grown man, but he only held it. He was used to wine now, but he seldom drank anything stronger.\n\n\"Perrin,\" the Mayor said as he took a chair beside his wife, \"no one believes you a Darkfriend. No one with any sense. There is no reason for you to let yourself be hanged.\"\n\nFaile nodded in fierce agreement, but Perrin ignored her. \"I won't be turned aside, Master al'Vere. The Whitecloaks want me, and if they do not get me, they might turn to the next Aybara they can find. Whitecloaks don't need much to decide somebody is guilty. They are not pleasant people.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We know,\" Mistress al'Vere said softly.\n\nHer husband stared at his hands on the table. \"Perrin, your family is gone.\"\n\n\"Gone? You mean the farm is burned already?\" Perrin's fist tightened around the silver cup. \"I hoped I was in time. I should have known better, I suppose. Too long before I heard. Maybe I can help my da and Uncle Eward rebuild. Who are they staying with? I want to see them first, at least.\"\n\nBran grimaced, and his wife stroked his shoulder comfortingly. But strangely her eyes stayed on Perrin, all sadness and comfort.\n\n\"They are dead, my boy,\" Bran said in a rush.\n\n\"Dead? No. They can't be-\" Perrin frowned as wetness suddenly slopped over his hand, stared at the crumpled cup as though wondering where it had come from. \"I am sorry. I didn't mean to-\" He pulled at the flattened silver, trying to force it back outwith his fingers. That would notwork. Of course not. Very carefully, he put the ruined cup in the middle of the table. \"I will replace it. I can-\" He wiped his hand on his coat, and suddenly found he was caressing the axe hanging at his belt. Why was everyone looking at him so oddly? \"Are you sure?\" His voice sounded faraway. \"Adora and Deselle? Paet? My mother?\"\n\n\"All of them,\" Bran told him. \"Your aunts and uncles, too, and your cousins. Everybody on the farm. I helped bury them, my boy. On that low hill, the one with the apple trees.\"\n\nPerrin stuck his thumb in his mouth. Fool thing to do, cutting himself on his own axe. \"My mother likes apple blossoms. The Whitecloaks. Why would they-? Burn me, Paet was only nine. The girls...\" His voice was very flat. He thought he should have had some emotion in those words. Some emotion." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It was Trollocs,\" Mistress al'Vere said quickly. \"They have comeback, Perrin. Not the way they did when you went away, not attacking the village, but out in the countryside. Most farms without close neighbors have been abandoned. No one goes outside at night, even near to the village. It is the same down to Deven Ride and up to Watch Hill, maybe to Taren Ferry. The Whitecloaks, bad as they are, are our only real protection. They've saved two families that I know, when Trollocs attacked their farms.\"\n\n\"I wished-I hoped-\" He could not quite remember what it was he had wished. Something about Trollocs. He did not want to remember. The Whitecloaks protecting the Two Rivers? It was almost enough to make him laugh. \"Rand's father. Tam's farm. Was that Trollocs, too?\"\n\nMistress al'Vere opened her mouth, but Bran cut her off. \"He deserves the truth, Marin. That was Whitecloaks, Perrin. That, and the Cauthon place.\"\n\n\"Mat's people too. Rand's, and Mat's, and mine.\" Strange. He sounded as if he were talking about whether it might rain. \"Are they dead, too?\"\n\n\"No, my boy. No, Abell and Tam are hiding in the Westwood somewhere. And Mat's mother and sisters... They're alive, too.\"\n\n\"Hiding?\"\n\n\"There is no need to go into that,\" Mistress al'Vere said briskly. \"Bran, bring him another cup of brandy. And you drink this one, Perrin.\" Her husband sat where he was, but she only frowned at him and went on. \"I would offer you abed, but it isn't safe. Some people are like as not to runoff hunting for Lord Bornhald if they find out you are here. Eward Congar and Hari Coplin fawn after the Whitecloaks like heel-hounds, eager to please and name names, and Cenn Buie isn't much better. And Wit Congar will carry tales, too, if Daise doesn't stop him. She is the Wisdom, now. Perrin, it is best for to go. Believe me.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Perrin shook his head slowly; it was too much to take in. Daise Congar the Wisdom? The woman was like a bull. Whitecloaks protecting Emond's Field. Hari and Eward and Wit cooperating. Not much more could be expected from Congars or Coplins, but Cenn Buie was on the Village Council. Lord Bornhald. So Geofram Bornhald was there. Faile was watching him, her eyes large and moist. Why should she be on the edge of tears?\n\n\"There is more, Brandelwyn al'Vere,\" Gaul said. \"Your face says so.\"\n\n\"There is,\" Bran agreed. \"No, Marin,\" he added firmly when she gave a small shake of her head. \"He deserves the truth. The whole truth.\" She folded her hands with a sigh; Marin al'Vere very nearly always got her way-except when Bran's face was set, as now, with his eyebrows drawn down hard as a plow.\n\n\"What truth?\" Perrin asked. His mother liked apple blossoms.\n\n\"First off, Padan Fain is with the Whitecloaks,\" Bran said. \"He calls himself Ordeith now, and he won't answer to his own name at all, but it's him, stare down his nose as he will.\"\n\n\"He's a Darkfriend,\" Perrin said absently. Adora and Deselle always put apple blossoms in their hair in the spring. \"Admitted from his own mouth. He brought the Trollocs, on Winternight.\" Paet liked to climb in the apple trees; he would throw apples at you from the branches if you did not watch him.\n\n\"Is he, now,\" the Mayor said grimly. \"Now, that is interesting. He has some authority with the Whitecloaks. The first we heard they were here was after they burned Tam's farm. That was Fain's work; he led the Whitecloaks that did it. Tam feathered four or five of them with arrows before he made it to the woods, and he reached the Cauthon farm in the nick to stop them taking Abell. But they arrested Natti and the girls. And Haral Luhhan, and Alsbet, too. I think Fain might have hung them, except Lord Bornhald wouldn't allow it. Not that he let them go, either. They haven't been harmed, as far as I can discover, but they're being held in the Whitecloak camp up at Watch Hill. For some reason, Fain has a hate for you, and Rand, and Mat. He's offered a hundred pieces of gold for anyone related to the three of you; two hundred for Tam or Abell. And Lord Bornhald seems to have some interest in you, especially. When a Whitecloak patrol comes here, he usually comes, too, and asks questions about you.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yes,\" Perrin said. \"Of course. He would.\" Perrin of the Two Rivers, who ran with wolves. Darkfriend. Fain could have told them the rest. Fain, with the Children of the Light? It was a distant thought. Better than thinking about Trollocs, though. He grimaced at his hands, made them be still on the table. \"They protect you from the Trollocs.\"\n\nMarin al'Vere leaned toward him, frowning. \"Perrin, we need the Whitecloaks. Yes, they burned Tam's farm, and Abell's, they've arrested people, and they stamp around as if they own everything they see, but Alsbet and Natti and the rest are unharmed, only held, and that can be straightened out somehow. The Dragon's Fang has been scrawled on a few doors, but nobody except the Congars and Coplins pay any mind, and they're likely the ones who did the scrawling. Tam and Abell can stay in hiding until the Whitecloaks go. They have to go sooner or later. But as long as there are Trollocs here, we do need them. Please understand. It isn't that we would not rather have you than them, but we need them and we don't want them to hang you.\"\n\n\"You call this being protected, roofmistress?\" Bain said. \"If you ask the lion to protect you from wolves, you have only chosen to end in one belly instead of another.\"\n\n\"Can you not protect yourselves?\" Chiad added. \"I have seen Perrin fight, and Mat Cauthon, and Rand al'Thor. They are the same blood as you.\"\n\nBran sighed heavily. \"We are farmers, simple people. Lord Luc talks of organizing men to fight the Trollocs, but that means leaving your family unprotected while you go off with him, and no one much likes that idea.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Perrin was confused. Who was Lord Luc? He asked as much, and Mistress al'Vere answered.\n\n\"He came about the time the Whitecloaks did. He's a Hunter of the Horn. You know the story, The Great Hunt of the Horn? Lord Luc thinks the Horn of Valere is somewhere in the Mountains of Mist above the Two Rivers. But he gave over his hunt because of our problems. Lord Luc is a great gentleman, with the finest manners.\" Smoothing her hair, she gave an approving smile; Bran looked at her sideways and grunted sourly.\n\nHunters of the Horn. Trollocs. Whitecloaks. The Two Rivers hardly seemed the same place he had left. \"Faile is a Hunter of the Horn, too. Do you know this Lord Luc, Faile?\"\n\n\"I have had enough,\" she announced. Perrin frowned as she stood and came around the table to him. Seizing his head, she pulled his face into her midriff. \"Your mother is dead,\" she said quietly. \"Your father is dead. Your sisters are dead, and your brother. Your family is dead, and you cannot change it. Certainly not by dying yourself. Let yourself grieve. Don't hold it inside where it can fester.\"\n\nHe took her by the arms, meaning to move her, but for some reason his hands tightened till that grip was the only thing holding him up. It was only then that he realized he was crying, sobbing into her dress like a baby. What must she think of him? He opened his mouth to tell her he was all right, to apologize for breaking down, but what came out was, \"I couldn't get here any faster. I couldn't-I-\" He gritted his teeth to shut himself off." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I know,\" she murmured, stroking his hair for all the world as if he were a child. \"I know.\"\n\nHe wanted to stop, but the more she whispered understanding, the more he wept, as though her hands soft on his head were smoothing the tears out of him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "With Faile holding his head beneath her breasts, Perrin lost track of how long he cried. Images of his family flashed in his thoughts, his father smiling as he showed him how to hold a bow, his mother singing while she spun wool, Adora and Deselle teasing him when he shaved the first time, Paet wide-eyed at a gleeman during Sunday long ago. Pictures of graves, cold and lonely in a row. He wept until there were no more tears in him. When he finally pulled back, the two of them were alone except for Scratch, washing himself atop the ale barrel. He was glad the others had not remained to watch him. Faile was bad enough. Ina way he was glad she had stayed; he only wished she had not seen or heard.\n\nTaking his hands in hers, Faile satin the next chair. She was so beautiful, with her slightly tilted eyes, large and dark, and her high cheekbones. He did not know how he was going to be able to makeup to her for the way he had treated her these last few days. No doubt she would find a means to make him pay for it.\n\n\"Have you given up the notion of surrendering to the Whitecloaks?\" she asked. There was no hint in her voice that she had just watched him cry like a baby.\n\n\"It seems it wouldn't do any good. They'll be after Rand's father, and Mat's, whatever I do. My family...\" He quickly loosened his grip on her hands, but she smiled instead of wincing. \"I have to get Master Luhhan and his wife free, if I can. And Mat's mother and sisters; I promised him I would look after them. And do what I can about the Trollocs.\" Maybe this Lord Luc had some ideas. At least the Waygate was blocked; no more would come through the Ways. He especially wanted to do something about the Trollocs. \"I can't manage any of that if I let them hang me.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I am very glad you see that,\" she told him dryly. \"Anymore fool notions about sending me away?\"\n\n\"No.\" He braced himself for the storm, but she simply nodded as if the one word were what she expected and all she wanted. A small thing, nothing worth arguing over. She was going to make him pay large.\n\n\"We are five, Perrin, six if Loial is willing. And if we can find Tam al'Thor and Abell Cauthon... Are they as good with a bow as you?\"\n\n\"Better,\" he said truthfully. \"Much better.\"\n\nShe gave him a slight, disbelieving nod. \"That will make eight. A beginning. Maybe others will join us. And then there's Lord Luc. He will probably want to take charge, but if he's not a crackbrain, it won't matter. Not everyone who took the Hunter's Oath is sensible, though. I've met some who think they know everything, and are stubborn as mules besides.\"\n\n\"I know.\" She looked at him sharply, and he managed to keep the smile off his face. \"That you've met some like that, I mean. I saw a pair of them once, remember.\"\n\n\"Oh, them. Well, we can hope Lord Luc is not a boasting liar.\" Her eyes became intent, and her grip tightened on his hands, not uncomfortably, but as though she was trying to add her strength to his. \"You will want to visit your family's farm, your home. I will come with you, if you will let me.\"\n\n\"When I can, Faile.\" Not now, though. Not yet. If he looked at those graves below the apple trees now... It was strange. He had always taken his own strength for granted, and now it turned out that he was not strong at all. Well, he was done with weeping like a babe. It was past time to be doing something. \"First things first. Finding Tam and Abell, I suppose.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Master al'Vere put his head into the common room, and came the rest of the way when he saw them sitting apart. \"There is an Ogier in the kitchen,\" he told Perrin with a bemused look. \"An Ogier. Drinking tea. The biggest cup looks...\" He held two fingers as though gripping a thimble. \"Maybe Marin could pretend Aiel walk inhere everyday, but she nearly fainted when she saw this Loial. I gave her a double tot of brandy, and she tossed it down like water. Nearly coughed herself to death; she doesn't take more than wine, usually. I think she'd have drunk another, if I'd given it to her.\" He pursed his lips and affected an interest in a nonexistent spot on his long white apron. \"Are you all right now, my boy?\"\n\n\"I'm fine, sir,\" Perrin said hastily. \"Master al'Vere, we cannot remain here much longer. Someone might tell the Whitecloaks you sheltered me.\"\n\n\"Oh, there are not many would do that. Not all the Coplins, and not some of the Congars, even.\" But he did not suggest they stay.\n\n\"Do you know where I can find Master al'Thor and Master Cauthon?\"\n\n\"In the Westwood somewhere, usually,\" Bran said slowly. \"That's all I know for sure. They move about.\" Locking his fingers over his broad belly, he tilted his gray fringed head to one side. \"You aren't leaving are you? Well. I told Marin you would not, but she doesn't believe me. She thinks it best for you to go away-best for you-and like most women she's sure you will see things her way if she talks long enough.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Why, Master al'Vere,\" Faile said sweetly, \"I for one have always found men to be sensible creatures who only need to be shown the wisest path once to choose it.\"\n\nThe Mayor favored her with an amused smile. \"You will be talking Perrin into going then, I take it? Marin's right; that is wisest, if he wants to avoid a noose. The only reason to stay is that sometimes a man can't run. No? Well, no doubt you know best.\" He ignored her sour look. \"Come along, my boy. Let's tell Marin the good news. Set your teeth and hold onto your intentions, because she won't give up trying to shift you.\"\n\nIn the kitchen, Loial and the Aiel were cross-legged on the floor. There was certainly no chair in the inn big enough for the Ogier. He sat with an arm resting on the kitchen table, tall enough sitting to look Marin al'Vere in the eye. Bran had exaggerated the smallness of the cup in Loial's hands, though on second glance Perrin saw it was a white-glazed soup bowl.\n\nMistress al'Vere was still doing her best to pretend Aiel and Ogier were normal, bustling about with a tray of bread and cheese and pickles, making sure everyone ate, but her eyes did widen each time they landed on Loial, though he tried to put her at ease with compliments for her baking. His tufted ears twitched nervously whenever she looked at him, and she gave a little jump every time they did, then shook her head, the thick graying braid swaying vigorously. Given a few hours, they might send each other to bed with the shakes.\n\nLoial heaved a deep bass sigh of relief at the sight of Perrin and set his cup-bowl-of tea on the table, but the next instant his broad face sagged sadly. \"I am sorry to hear your loss, Perrin. I share your grief. Mistress al'Vere...\" His ears twitched wildly even without looking at her, and she gave another start. \"... has been telling me you will go, now there's nothing to keep you here. If you wish it, I will sing to the apple trees before we leave.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Bran and Marin exchanged startled looks, and the Mayor actually reamed at his ear with a finger.\n\n\"Thank you, Loial. I will appreciate that, when there's time. But I have work to do before I can go.\" Mistress al'Vere set the tray on the table with a sharp click and stared at him, but he kept on, laying out his plans, such as they were: Find Tam and Abell, and rescue the people the Whitecloaks held. He did not mention Trollocs, though he had vague plans there, too. Perhaps not so vague. He did not mean to leave while there was a Trolloc or Myrddraal alive in the Two Rivers. He fastened his thumbs behind his belt to keep from caressing his axe. \"It won't be easy,\" he finished. \"I will appreciate your company, but I will understand if you want to go. This isn't your fight, and you have seen enough trouble through staying close to Emond's Field folk. And you won't write much of your book here.\"\n\n\"Here or there, it is the same fight, I think,\" Loial replied. \"The book can wait. Perhaps I will have a chapter about you.\"\n\n\"I said I would come with you,\" Gaul put in without being asked. \"I did not mean until the journey grew hard. I owe you blood debt.\"\n\nBain and Chiad looked questioningly at Faile, and when she nodded, added their decisions to remain, too.\n\n\"Stubborn foolish,\" Mistress al'Vere said, \"the lot of you. Very likely you will all end upon gallows, if you live that long. You know that, don't you?\" When they only looked at her, she untied her apron and lifted it over her head. \"Well, if you are foolish enough to stay, I suppose I had better show you whereto hide.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her husband looked surprised at her sudden surrender, but he recovered quickly. \"I thought perhaps the old sickhouse, Marin. No one ever goes there now, and I think it still has most of its roof.\"\n\nWhat was still called the new sickhouse, where people were taken to be tended if their illness was contagious, had stood east of the village, beyond Master Thane's mill, since Perrin was a small boy. The old one, in the Westwood, had been all but destroyed in a fierce windstorm back then. Perrin remembered it as half-covered by vines and briars, with birds roosting in what was left of the thatch and a badger's den under the back steps. It would be a good place to hide.\n\nMistress al'Vere gave Bran a sharp look, as though startled he had thought of it. \"That will do, I suppose. For tonight, at least. That is where I will take them.\"\n\n\"No need for you to do it, Marin. I can lead them easy enough, if Perrin doesn't remember the way.\"\n\n\"Sometimes you forget you're the Mayor, Bran. You attract eyes; people wonder where you're going and what you are up to. Why don't you stay here, and if anyone drops by, see they go away thinking everything is just as it should be. There's mutton stew in the kettle, and lentil soup that just needs heating. Now don't mention the sickhouse to anyone, Bran. Best if no one even remembers it exists.\"\n\n\"I am not a fool, Marin,\" he said stiffly.\n\n\"I know you aren't, dear.\" She patted her husband's cheek, but her fond look tightened as it shifted from Bran to the rest of them. \"You do cause trouble,\" she muttered before handing out instructions." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They were to travel in smaller parties so as not to attract attention. She would cross the village by herself and meet them in the woods on the other side. The Aiel assured her they could find the lightning-split oak she described, and slipped out by the backdoor. Perrin knew it, a huge tree, a mile beyond the edge of the village, that looked as if it had been cleft down the middle by an axe yet somehow continued to live and even flourish. He was sure he could go straight to the sickhouse itself with no trouble, but Mistress al'Vere insisted everyone meet at the oak.\n\n\"You go wandering about by yourself, Perrin, and the Light knows what you might stumble into.\" She looked up at Loial-standing now, his shaggy hair brushing the ceiling beams and sighed. \"I do wish there was something we could do about your height, Master Loial. I know it is hot, but would you mind wearing your cloak, with the hood up? Even these days most people will soon convince themselves they didn't see what they saw if it isn't what they expect, but if they catch a glimpse of your face... Not that you aren't quite handsome, I'm sure, but you'll never pass for Two Rivers folk.\"\n\nLoial's smile split his face in two beneath his wide snout of a nose. \"The day doesn't seem too warm fora cloak at all, Mistress al'Vere.\"\n\nFetching alight, knit shawl with blue fringe, she accompanied Perrin, Faile and Loial out to the stableyard to see them off, and fora moment it appeared all their efforts at secrecy were doomed. Cenn Buie, looking made from gnarled old roots, was examining the horses with beady eyes. Especially Loial's tall horse, as big as one of Bran's Dhurrans. Cenn scratched his head, staring at the great saddle on the big horse." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Those eyes widened when they caught sight of Loial, and Cenn's jaw flapped. \"Tr-Tr-Trolloc!\" he managed to get out at last.\n\n\"Don't bean old fool, Cenn Buie,\" Marin said firmly, stepping off to one side to pull the thatcher's attention with her. Perrin kept his head down, studying his bow, and did not move. \"Would I be standing on my own back doorstep with a Trolloc?\" She gave a contemptuous sniff. \"Master Loial is an Ogier, as you would know if you weren't a cantankerous goose who would rather complain than look at what's under his nose. Passing through, and with no time to be bothered by the likes of you. You be on about your business and leave our guests some peace. You know very well that Corin Ayellin has been after you for months about the poor work you did on her roof.\"\n\nCenn mouthed the word'Ogier,\" silent and blinking. Fora moment it seemed he might rouse himself in defense of his handiwork, but then his gaze shifted to Perrin and narrowed. \"Him! It's him! They're after you, you young whelp, rapscallion, running off with Aes Sedai and becoming a Darkfriend. That was when we had Trollocs before. Now you're back, and so are they. You going to tell me that's coincidence? What's wrong with your eyes? You sick? You have some kind of sickness from off you've brought back to kill us all, as if Trollocs are not enough? The Children of the Light will settle you. See if they don't.\"\n\nPerrin sensed Faile tensing, and hastily put a hand on her arm when he realized she was drawing a knife. What did she think she was doing? Cenn was an irascible old fool, but that was no reason for knives. She gave an exasperated toss of her head, but at least she left it at that." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That is enough, Cenn,\" Marin said sharply. \"You keep this to yourself. Or have you started running to the Whitecloaks with tales, like Hari and his brother Darl? I've my suspicions why the Whitecloaks came rummaging through Bran's books. They took six off with them, and lectured Bran under his own roof about blasphemy. Blasphemy, of all things! Because they didn't agree with what was in a book. You're lucky I don't make you replace those books for him. They burrowed through the whole inn like weasels. Hunting for more blasphemous writings, they said, as if anyone would hide a book. Tumbled all the mattresses from the beds, upset my linen closets. You are lucky I didn't come haul you back hereto put it all to rights again.\"\n\nCenn drew in on himself a little more with each sentence, until he looked to be trying to pull his bony shoulders over his head. \"I didn't tell them anything, Marin,\" he protested. \"Just because a man mentions-That is, I just happened to say, just in passing-\" He shook himself, still avoiding her eye but regaining some of his old manner. \"I mean to take this up with the Council, Marin. Him, I mean.\" He pointed a gnarled finger at Perrin. \"We're all in danger as long as he's here. If the Children find out you're sheltering him, they might blame the rest of us. Upset closets won't be in it, then.\"\n\n\"This is Women's Circle business.\" Marin rewrapped her shawl about her shoulders and moved to stand eye to eye with the thatcher. He was a little taller than she, but her sudden air of grave formality gave her the edge. He spluttered, but she rode right over his attempts to slide a word in. \"Circle business, Cenn Buie. If you think it isn't-if you even dare think of calling me a liar-you go flapping your tongue. You breathe a word of Women's Circle business to anyone, including the Village Council...\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The Circle has no right interfering in Council affairs,\" he shouted.\n\n\"... and see if your wife doesn't have you sleeping in the barn. And eating what your milk cows leave. You think Council takes precedence over Circle? I'll send Daise Congar over to convince you different, if you need convincing.\"\n\nCenn flinched, as well he might. If Daise Congar was the Wisdom, she would probably force foul-tasting concoctions down his throat everyday for the next year, and Cenn was too scrawny to stop her. Alsbet Luhhan was the only woman in Emond's Field larger than Daise, and Daise had a mean streak and a temper to go with it. Perrin could not imagine her as Wisdom; Nynaeve would probably have a fit when she found out who had replaced her. Nynaeve had always believed she used sweet reason, herself.\n\n\"No need to get nasty, Marin,\" Cenn muttered placatingly. \"You want me to keep quiet, I'll keep quiet. But Women's Circle or no, you're risking bringing the Children down on all of us.\" Marin merely raised her eyebrows, and after a moment he slunk away, grumbling under his breath.\n\n\"Well done,\" Faile said when Cenn disappeared around the corner of the inn. \"I think I need to take lessons from you. I am not half so good at handling Perrin as you are with Master al'Vere and that fellow.\" She smiled at Perrin to show she was joking. At least, he hoped that was what it meant.\n\n\"You have to know when to rein them short,\" the older woman replied absently, \"and when there's nothing to do but give them their head. Letting them have their way when it isn't important makes it easier to check them when it is.\" She was frowning after Cenn, not really paying attention to what she was saying, except maybe when she added, \"And some should be tied in the stall and left there.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "As the writer's co-author, extend the plot.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, prophecy\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: The Shadow Rising\nChapter: 39" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Who are you?\" he demanded irritably. \"How did you get inhere? Leave at once, or I'll have you tossed into the street.\"\n\n\"Threats, Bors? You should be more welcoming to a guest, yes?\"\n\nThat name jolted him to his heels. Before he thought, he had his sword out, lunging for her throat.\n\nSomething seized him-the air turned to crawling jelly-something forced him to his knees, encased him from the neck down. It tightened around his wrist until bones grated; his hand popped open, and his sword fell. The Power. She was using the One Power on him. A Tar Valon witch. And if she knew that name...\n\n\"Do you remember,\" she said, coming closer, \"a meeting where Ba'alzamon himself appeared, and showed us the faces of Matrim Cauthon, and Perrin Aybara, and Rand al'Thor?\" She practically spat the names, especially the last; her eyes could have drilled holes in steel. \"You see? I know who you are, yes? You pledged your soul to the Great Lord of the Dark, Bors.\" Her sudden laugh was a tinkling of bells.\n\nSweat popped out on his face. Not just a despised Tar Valon witch. Black Ajah. She was Black Ajah. He had thought it would be a Myrddraal that came for him. He had thought there was time yet. More time. Not yet. \"I have tried to kill him,\" he babbled. \"Rand al'Thor. I have tried! But I cannot find him. I cannot! I was told my family would be killed if I failed, one by one. I was promised I would be last! I have cousins, yet. Nephews. Nieces. I have another sister! You must give me more time!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She stood there, watching him with those sharp brown eyes, smiling with that plump little mouth, listening to him spew out where Vanora could be found, where her bedchamber lay, how she liked to ride alone in the forest beyond Carmera. Perhaps if he shouted some of the guards would come. Perhaps they could kill her. He opened his mouth wider-and that thick invisible jelly oozed in, forcing his jaws apart until they creaked in his ears. Nostrils flaring, he sucked air in frantically. He could still breathe, but he could not scream. All that came out were muffled groans, like a woman wailing behind walls. He wanted to scream.\n\n\"You are very amusing,\" the honey-haired woman said finally. \"Jaichim. That is a good name fora dog, I think. Would you like to be my dog, Jaichim? If you area very good dog, I may allow you to watch Rand al'Thor die one day, yes?\"\n\nIt took a moment for what she was saying to sink in. If he was to see Rand al'Thor die, she was not... She was not going to kill him, skin him alive, do the things his mind had conjured that would make flaying a release. Tears rolled down his face. Sobs of relief shook him, as much as he could shake, trapped as he was. That trap abruptly vanished, and he collapsed on hands and knees, still weeping. He could not stop.\n\nThe woman knelt beside him and tangled a hand in his hair, pulled his head up. \"Now you will listen tome, yes? The death of Rand al'Thor is for the future, and you will see it only if you area good dog. You are going to move your Whitecloaks to the Panarch's Palace.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"H-how do y-you know that?\"\n\nShe shook his head from side to side, not gently. \"A good dog does not question his mistress. I throw the stick; you fetch the stick. I say kill; you kill. Yes? Yes.\" Her smile was just a flash of teeth. \"There will be difficulty in taking the Palace? The Panarch's Legion is there, a thousand men, sleeping in the hallways, the exhibition rooms, the courtyards. You do not have so many of your Whitecloaks.\"\n\n\"They....\" He had to stop and swallow. \"They will make no trouble. They will believe Amathera has been chosen by the Assembly. It is the Assembly that-\"\n\n\"Do not bore me, Jaichim. I do not care if you kill the entire Assembly so long as you hold the Panarch's Palace. When will you move?\"\n\n\"It... it will take three or four days for Andric to deliver sureties.\"\n\n\"Three or four days,\" she murmured half to herself. \"Very well. A little longer delay should cause no harm.\" He was wondering what delay she meant when she cutaway the little ground remaining under his feet. \"You will keep control of the Palace, and you will send the Panarch's fine soldiers away.\"\n\n\"That is impossible,\" he gasped, and she jerked his head back so hard he did not know if his neck would break or his scalp tear loose first. He did not dare resist. A thousand invisible needles pricked him, on his face, his chest, his back, arms, legs, everywhere. Invisible, but he was sure no less real for that.\n\n\"Impossible, Jaichim?\" she said softly. \"Impossible is a word I do not like to hear.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "The needles twisted deeper; he groaned, but he had to explain." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "What she wanted was impossible. He panted with haste. \"Once Amathera is invested as Panarch, she will control the Legion. If I try to hold the Palace, she will turn them on me, and Andric will help her. There is noway I can hold against the Panarch's Legion, and against whatever Andric can strip from the Ring forts.\"\n\nShe studied him so long he began to sweat. He did not dare to flinch, hardly even to blink; those thousand biting little stabs did not allow it.\n\n\"The Panarch will be dealt with,\" she said finally. The needles vanished, and she stood.\n\nCarridin stood, too, trying to steady himself. Perhaps some bargain could be reached; the woman seemed willing to listen to reason now. His legs quivered with shock, but he made his voice as firm as he could. \"Even if you can influence Amathera-\"\n\nShe cut him off. \"I told you not to question, Jaichim. A good dog obeys his mistress, yes? I promise you, if you do not you will beg me to find a Myrddraal to play with you. Do you understand me?\"\n\n\"I understand,\" he said leadenly. She continued to stare, and after a moment he did understand. \"I will do as you say... mistress.\" Her brief, approving smile made him flush. She moved toward the door, turning her back on him as if he really were a dog, and a toothless one. \"What...? What is your name?\"\n\nHer smile was sweet this time, and mocking. \"Yes. A dog should know his mistress's name. I am called Liandrin. But that name must never touch a dog's lips. Should it, I will be most displeased with you.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When the door closed behind her, he staggered to a high-backed chair inlaid with ivory and fell into it. The brandy he left where it was; the way his stomach was twisting, it would make him vomit. What interest could she possibly have in the Panarch's Palace? A dangerous line of questioning, perhaps, but even if they served the same master he could not feel anything but revulsion fora Tar Valon witch.\n\nShe did not know as much as she thought. With the King's sureties in hand, he could keep Tamrin and the army away from his throat with the threat of revelation, and Amathera, too. They could still rouse the mob, though. And the Lord Captain Commander might be more than disapproving of the entire affair, might believe he was reaching for personal power. Carridin dropped his head in his hands, envisioning Niall signing his death warrant. His own men would arrest him; and hang him. If he could arrange the death of the witch... But she had promised to protect him from the Myrddraal. He wanted to weep again. She was not even here, yet she had him trapped as tightly as ever, steel jaws clamped on both legs and a noose snug around his neck.\n\nThere had to be away out, but every way he looked there was only another trap.\n\nLiandrin ghosted through the halls, easily avoiding servants and Whitecloaks. When she stepped out of a small backdoor into a narrow alley behind the palace, the tall young guard there stared at her with a blend of relief and unease. Her little trick of opening someone to her suggestions-just a whip-crack trickle of the Power-had not been needed with Carridin, but it had easily convinced this fool that she should be allowed in. Smiling, she motioned him to bend closer. The lanky lout grinned as if expecting a kiss, a grin that froze as her narrow blade went through his eye." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She leaped nimbly back as he fell, a boneless sack of flesh. He would not speak of her even by accident now. Not so much as a spot of bloodstained her hand. She wished she had Chesmal's skill at killing with the Power, or even Rianna's lesser talent. Strange that the ability to kill with the Power, to stop a heart or boil blood in the veins, should be so closely linked to Healing. She herself could not Heal much more than scrapes or bruises; not that she had any interest in it.\n\nHer sedan chair, red-lacquered and inlaid with ivory and gold, was waiting at the end of the alley, and with it her bodyguards, a dozen big men with faces like starving wolves. Once in the streets, they cleared a path through the crowds with ease, spears clubbing any not quick enough to move aside. They were all dedicated to the Great Lord of the Dark, of course, and if they did not know exactly who she was, they knew that other men had disappeared, men who failed to serve properly.\n\nThe house she and the others had taken, two sprawling stories of flat-roofed stone and white plaster on a hillside at the base of the Verana, Tanchico's easternmost peninsula, belonged to a merchant who had also sworn his oaths to the Great Lord. Liandrin would have preferred a palace-one day perhaps she would have the King's Palace on the Maseta; she had grownup staring enviously at the Lords'palaces, but why should she settle for one of them?-yet despite her preferences, it made sense to stay hidden awhile yet. There was noway the fools in Tar Valon could suspect they were in Tarabon, but the Tower was surely still hunting them, and Siuan Sanche's pets could be sniffing anywhere." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gates gave onto a small courtyard, windowless except on the upper floor. Leaving the guards and bearers there, she hurried inside. The merchant had furnished a few servants; all sworn to the Great Lord, he assured them, but barely enough to provide for eleven women who rarely stirred outside. One, a sturdily handsome, dark-braided woman called Gyldin, was sweeping the entry hall's red and white tiles when Liandrin entered.\n\n\"Where are the others?\" she demanded.\n\n\"In the front withdrawing room.\" Gyldin gestured to the double-arched doors to the right as though Liandrin might not know where that was.\n\nLiandrin's mouth tightened. The woman did not curtsy; she used no titles of respect. True, she did not know who Liandrin really was, but Gyldin certainly knew she was high enough to give orders and be obeyed, to send that fat merchant bowing and scraping and bundling his family off to some hovel. \"You are supposed to be cleaning, yes? Not standing about? Well, clean! There is dust everywhere. If I find a speck of the dust this evening, you cow you, I will have you beaten!\" She clamped her teeth shut. She had copied the manner in which nobles and the wealthy spoke for so long that sometimes she forgot her father had sold fruit from a barrow, yet in one moment of anger the speech of a commoner rolled off her tongue. Too much stress. Too much waiting. With a last, snapped, \"Work!\" she pushed into the withdrawing room and slammed the door behind her.\n\nThe others were not all there, which irritated her even more, but enough. Round-faced Eldrith Jhondar, seated at a lapis-inlaid table beneath a hanging on one white-plastered wall, was making careful notes from a tattered manuscript; sometimes she absently cleaned the nib of her pen on the sleeve of her dark wool dress. Marillin Gemalphin sat beside one of the narrow windows, blue eyes dreamily staring out at the tiny fountain tinkling in a little courtyard, idly scratching the ears of a scrawny yellow cat and apparently unaware of the hairs it shed allover her green silk dress. She and Eldrith were both Browns, but if Marillin ever found out that Eldrith was the reason the stray cats she brought in continually disappeared, there would be trouble." }, { "from": "human", "value": "They had been Browns." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sometimes it was difficult to remember they no longer were, or that she herself was no longer a Red. So much of what had marked them clearly as members of their old Ajahs remained even now that they were openly pledged to the Black. Take the two former Greens. Coppery-skinned, swan-necked Jeaine Caide wore the thinnest, most clinging silk dresses she could find-white, today-and laughed that the gowns would have to do, since there was nothing available in Tarabon to catch a man's eye. Jeaine was from Arad Doman; Domani women were infamous for their scandalous clothes. Asne Zeramene, with her dark, tilted eyes and bold nose, looked almost demure in pale gray, plainly cut and high-necked, but Liandrin had heard her regret leaving her Warders behind more than once. And as for Rianna Andomeran... Black hair with a stark white streak above her left ear framed a face with the cold, arrogant certainty only a White could assume.\n\n\"It is done,\" Liandrin announced. \"Jaichim Carridin will move his Whitecloaks to the Panarch's Palace and hold it for us. He does not yet know we will have guests... of course.\" There were a few grimaces; changing Ajahs had certainly not altered anyone's feelings toward men who hated women who could channel. \"There is an interesting thing. He believed I was thereto kill him. For failing to kill Rand al'Thor.\"\n\n\"That makes no sense,\" Asne said, frowning. \"We are to bind him, control him, not kill him.\" She laughed suddenly, soft and low, and leaned back in her chair. \"If there is away to control him, I would not mind binding him tome. He is a good-looking young man, from the little I saw.\" Liandrin sniffed; she had no liking for men at all." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rianna shook her head worriedly. \"It makes troubling sense. Our orders from the Tower were clear, yet it is also clear that Carridin has others. I can only postulate dissension among the Forsaken.\"\n\n\"The Forsaken,\" Jeaine muttered, folding her arms tightly; thin white silk molded her breasts even more revealingly. \"What good are promises that we will rule the world when the Great Lord returns if we are crushed between warring Forsaken first? Does anyone believe we could stand against any of them?\"\n\n\"Balefire.\" Asne looked around, dark tilted eyes challenging. \"Balefire will destroy even one of the Forsaken. And we have the means to produce it.\" One of the ter'angreal they had removed from the Tower, a fluted black rod apace long, had that use. None of them knew why they had been ordered to take it, not even Liandrin herself. Too many of the ter'angreal were like that, taken because they had been told to, with no reasons given, but some orders had to be obeyed. Liandrin wished they had been able to secure even one angreal.\n\nJeaine gave a sharp sniff. \"If any of us could control it. Or have you forgotten that the one test we dared nearly killed me? And burned a hole through both sides of the ship before I could stop it? Fine good it would have done us to drown before reaching Tanchico.\"\n\n\"What need have we of balefire?\" Liandrin said. \"If we can control the Dragon Reborn, let the Forsaken think how they will deal with us.\" Suddenly she became aware of another presence in the room. The woman Gyldin, wiping down a carved, low-backed chair in one corner. \"What are you doing here, woman?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Cleaning.\" The dark-braided woman straightened unconcernedly. \"You told me to clean.\"\n\nLiandrin almost struck outwith the Power. Almost. But Gyldin certainly did not know they were Aes Sedai. How much had the woman heard? Nothing of importance. \"You will go to the cook,\" she said in a cold fury, \"and tell him he is to strap you. Very hard! And you are to have nothing to eat until the dust it is all gone.\" Again. The woman had made her speak like a commoner again.\n\nMarillin stood, nuzzling the yellow cat's nose with hers, and handed the creature to Gyldin. \"See that he gets a dish of cream when the cook is done with you. And some of that nice lamb. Cut it small for him; he doesn't have many teeth left, poor thing.\" Gyldin looked at her, not blinking, and she added, \"Is there something you don't understand?\"\n\n\"I understand.\" Gyldin's mouth was tight. Perhaps she did finally understand; she was a servant, not their equal.\n\nLiandrin waited a moment after she left, the cat cradled in her arms, then snatched open one of the doors. The, entry hall was empty. Gyldin was not eavesdropping. She did not trust the woman. But then, she could not think of anyone she did trust.\n\n\"We must be concerned with what concerns us,\" she said tightly, closing the door. \"Eldrith, have you found anew clue in those pages? Eldrith?\"\n\nThe plump woman gave a start, then stared around at them, blinking. It was the first time she had raised her head from the battered yellow manuscript; she seemed surprised to see Liandrin. \"What? Clue? Oh. No. It is difficult enough getting into the King's Library; if I extracted so much as a page, the librarians would know it immediately. But if I disposed of them, I would never find anything. That place is amaze. No, I found this in a bookseller's near the King's Palace. It is an interesting treatise on-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Embracing saidar, Liandrin sent the pages showering across the floor. \"Unless they area treatise on the controlling of Rand al'Thor, let them be burned! What have you learned about what we seek?\"\n\nEldrith blinked at the scattered papers. \"Well, it is in the Panarch's Palace.\"\n\n\"You learned that two days ago,\"\n\n\"And it must be a ter'angreal. To control someone who can channel must require the Power, and since it is a specialized use that means a ter'angreal. We will find it in the exhibition room, or perhaps among the Panarch's collection.\"\n\n\"Something new, Eldrith.\" With an effort Liandrin made her voiceless shrill. \"Have you found anything that is new? Anything?\"\n\nThe round-faced woman blinked uncertainly. \"Actually.... No.\"\n\n\"It does not matter,\" Marillin said. \"Ina few days, once they have invested their precious Panarch, we can begin searching, and if we must inspect every candlestick, we will find it. We are on the brink, Liandrin. We will put Rand al'Thor on a leash and teach him to sit up and rollover.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes,\" Eldrith said, smiling happily. \"On a leash.\"\n\nLiandrin hoped it was so. She was tired of waiting, tired of hiding. Let the world know her. Let people bend knee as had been promised when she first forswore old oaths for new.\n\nEgeanin knew she was not alone as soon as she stepped into her small house by the kitchen door, but she dropped her mask and the jute bag carelessly on the table and walked over to where a bucket of water stood beside the brick fireplace. As she bent to take the copper ladle, her right hand darted into a low hollow where two bricks had been removed behind the bucket; she spun erect, a small crossbow in her hand. No more than afoot long, it had little power or range, but she always kept it drawn, and the dark stain tipping the sharp steel bolt would kill in a heartbeat." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If the man leaning casually in the corner saw the crossbow, he gave no outward sign. He was pale-haired and blue-eyed, in his middle years, and good-looking if too slender for her taste. Clearly he had watched her cross the narrow yard through the iron-grilled window beside him. \"Do you think that I threaten you?\" he said after a moment.\n\nShe recognized the familiar accents of home, but she did not lower the crossbow. \"Who are you?\"\n\nFor answer he dipped two fingers carefully into his belt pouch-apparently he could see after all-and brought out something small and flat. She motioned him to lay it on the table and backup again.\n\nOnly after he was back in the corner did she move close enough to pickup what he had set there. Never taking her eyes or the crossbow away from him, she lifted it up where she could see. A small ivory plaque bordered in gold, engraved with a raven and a tower. The raven's eyes were black sapphires. A raven, symbol of the Imperial family; the Tower of Ravens, symbol of Imperial justice.\n\n\"Normally this would be enough,\" she told him, \"but we are far from Seanchan, in a land where the bizarre is almost commonplace. What other proof can you offer?\"\n\nSmiling with silent amusement, he removed his coat, unlaced his shirt and stripped it off. On either shoulder was the tattoo of raven and tower.\n\nMost Seekers for Truth bore the ravens as well as the tower, but not even someone who dared steal a Seeker's plaque would have himself marked so. To wear the ravens was to be the property of the Imperial family. There was an old story of a fool young lord and lady who had themselves tattooed while drunk, some three hundred years gone. When the then Empress learned of it, she had them brought to the Court of the Nine Moons and set to scrubbing floors. This fellow might be one of their descendants. The mark of the raven was forever." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"My apologies, Seeker,\" she said, setting the crossbow down." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Why are you here?\" She did not ask a name; any he gave might or might not be his.\n\nHe left her holding the plaque while here-dressed himself in a leisurely manner. A subtle reminder. She was a captain and he property, but he was also a Seeker, and under the law he could have her put to the question on his own authority. Bylaw he had the right to send her out to buy the rope to bind her while he put her to the question right here, and he would expect her to return with it. Flight from a Seeker was a crime. Refusal to cooperate with a Seeker was a crime. She had never in her life considered any criminal act, no more than she had considered treason against the Crystal Throne. But if he asked the wrong questions, demanded the wrong answers... The crossbow was still close to her hand, and Cantorin was faraway. Wild thoughts. Dangerous thoughts.\n\n\"I serve the High Lady Suroth and the Corenne, for the Empress,\" he said. \"I am checking on the progress of the agents the High Lady has placed in these lands.\"\n\nChecking? What had to be checked, and by a Seeker? \"I have heard nothing of this from the courier boats.\" His smile deepened, and she flushed. Of course the crews would not speak of a Seeker. Yet he answered while lacing up his shirt.\n\n\"The courier boats are not to be risked with my trips. I have taken passage on the vessels of a local smuggler, a man called Bayle Domon. His craft stop everywhere in Tarabon and Arad Doman and between.\"\n\n\"I have heard of him,\" she said calmly. \"All goes well?\"\n\n\"It does now. I am glad that you, at least, understood your instructions properly. Among the others, only the Seekers did. It is regrettable that there are not more Seekers with the Hailene.\" Settling his coat on his shoulders, he plucked the Seeker's plaque from her hand. \"There has been some embarrassment over the return of sul'dam deserters. Such desertions must not become common knowledge. Much better that they simply vanish.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Only because she had a little time to think was she able to keep her face smooth." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sul'dam had been left behind in the debacle at Falme, she had been told. Possibly some had deserted. Her instruction, delivered by the High Lady Suroth herself, had been to return any who could be found, whether they wanted to return or not, and if that was not possible, dispose of them. The last had seemed only a final alternative. Until now.\n\n\"I regret that these lands do not know kaf,\" he said, taking a seat at the table. \"Even in Cantorin, only the Blood still have kaf. Or it was so when I left. Perhaps supply ships have arrived from Seanchan since. Tea must do. Fix me tea.\"\n\nShe very nearly knocked him out of his chair. The man was property. And a Seeker. She brewed tea. And served it to him, standing beside his chair with the pot to keep his cup full. She was surprised he did not ask her to dona veil and dance on the table.\n\nShe was permitted to sit at last, after fetching pen and ink and paper, but only to sketch maps of Tanchico and its defenses, to draw every other city and town she knew the least thing about. She listed the various forces in the field, as much as she knew of their strength and loyalties, what she had deduced of their dispositions.\n\nWhen she was done, he stuffed it all in his pocket, told her to send the contents of the jute sack by the next courier boat, and left with one of those amused smiles, saying he might check on her progress again in a few weeks.\n\nShe sat therefor along time after he was gone. Every map she had drawn, every list she had made, duplicated papers sent out by courier boats long since. Having her do it all again while he watched might have been a punishment for forcing him to show his tattoos. Deathwatch Guards flaunted their ravens; Seekers rarely did. It might have been that. At least he had not gone down to the basement before she arrived. Or had he? Had he just been waiting for her to speak?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The stout iron lock hung seemingly undisturbed on the door in the hall just beyond the kitchen, but it was said Seekers knew how to open locks without keys. Taking the key from her belt pouch, she unfastened the lock and went down the narrow steps.\n\nOne lamp on a shelf lit the dirt-floored basement. Just four brick walls, cleared of everything that might help an escape. A faint smell of the slop pail hung in the air. On the side opposite the lamp, a woman in a dirty dress sat despondently on a few rough woolen blankets. Her head lifted at the sound of Egeanin's steps, dark eyes fearful and pleading. She had been the first sul'dam Egeanin had found. The first, the only. Egeanin had all but stopped looking, after she found Bethamin. And Bethamin had been in this basement since, while courier boats came and went.\n\n\"Did anyone comedown here?\" Egeanin said.\n\n\"No. I heard footsteps overhead, but... No.\" Bethamin stretched out her hands. \"Please, Egeanin. This is all a mistake. You have known me for ten years. Take this thing off of me.\"\n\nA silver collar encircled her neck, attached by a thick silver leash to a bracelet of the same metal that hung on a peg a few feet above her head. It had been almost an accident, putting it on her, simply a means of securing her fora few moments. And then she had managed to knock Egeanin down, trying a dashing for freedom.\n\n\"If you bring it tome, I will,\" Egeanin said angrily. She was angry with many things, not with Bethamin. \"Bring the a'dam over here, and I will remove it.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Bethamin shivered, let her hands fall. \"It is a mistake,\" she whispered. \"A horrible mistake.\" But she made no move toward the bracelet. Her first attempted flight had left her writhing on the floor upstairs, wracked by nausea, and had left Egeanin stunned.\n\nSul'dam controlled damane, women who could channel, by means of a'dam. It was damane who could channel, not sul'dam. But an a'dam could only control a woman who could channel. No other woman, and not a man-young men with that ability were executed, of course-only a woman who could channel. A woman who had that ability and was collared could not move more than a few steps without her bracelet on the wrist of a sul'dam to complete the link.\n\nEgeanin felt very tired climbing the stairs and locking the door again. She wanted some tea herself, but the little the Seeker had left was cold, and she did not feel like brewing more. Instead she sat down and pulled the a'dam out of the jute bag. To her it was only finely jointed silver; she could not use it, and it could not harm her unless somebody hither with it.\n\nEven linking herself with an a'dam that far, denying its ability to control her, was enough to send a shiver down her spine. Women who could channel were dangerous animals rather than people. It had been they who Broke the World. They must be controlled, or they would turn everyone into their property. That was what she had been taught, what had been taught in Seanchan fora thousand years. Strange that that seemed not to have happened here. No. That was a dangerous, foolish line of thought.\n\nTucking the a'dam back into the bag, she cleaned the tea things to settle her mind. She liked tidiness, and there was a small satisfaction in making the kitchen so. Before she realized it she was brewing a pot of tea for herself. She did not want to think about Bethamin, and that was dangerously foolish too. Settling herself back at the table, she stirred honey into a cup of tea as black as she could make it. Not kaf, but it would do." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Despite her denials, despite her pleas, Bethamin could channel. Could other sul'dam? Was that why the High Lady Suroth wanted those left behind at Falme killed? It was unthinkable. It was impossible. The yearly testings all across Seanchan found every girl who had the spark of channeling in her: each was struck from the rolls of citizens, struck from family records, taken away to become collared damane. The same testings found the girls who could learn to wear the bracelet of the sul'dam. No woman escaped being tested each year until she was old enough that she would have begun channeling if the spark was there. How could even one girl betaken for sul'dam when she was damane? Yet there Bethamin was in the basement, held by an a'dam as by an anchor.\n\nOne thing was certain. The possibilities here were potentially deadly. This involved the Blood, and Seekers. Maybe even the Crystal Throne. Would the High Lady Suroth dare keep knowledge of this sort from the Empress? A mere ship captain could die screaming fora misplaced frown in that company, or find herself property fora whim. She had to know more if she hoped to avoid the Death of Ten Thousand Tears. To begin with, that meant spreading more money to Gelb and other ferrety skulkers like him, finding more sul'dam and seeing if a'dam held them. Beyond that... Beyond that she wassailing uncharted reefs with no linesman in the bow.\n\nTouching the crossbow, still lying therewith its lethal bolt, she realized that something else was certain. She was not going to let the Seekers kill her. Not just to help the High Lady Suroth keep a secret. Perhaps not for any reason. It was a thought shiveringly close to treason, but it would not go away." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When Elayne came on deck with her things neatly bundled, the setting sun seemed to be just touching the water out beyond the mouth of Tanchico's harbor, and the final thick hawsers were being tied to snug Wavedancer to a ship-lined dock, only one of many along this westernmost peninsula of the city. Some of the crew were furling the last sails. Beyond the long wharves the city rose on hills, shining white, domed and spired, with polished weather vanes glittering. Perhaps a mile north she could make out high, round walls; the Great Circle, if she remembered correctly.\n\nSlinging her bundle on the same shoulder as her leather script, she went to join Nynaeve by the gangplank, with Coine and Jorin. It seemed almost odd to seethe sisters fully dressed again, in bright brocaded silk blouses that matched their wide trousers. Earrings and even nose rings she had become used to, and the fine gold chain across each woman's dark cheek hardly made her wince at all now.\n\nThom and Juilin stood apart with their own bundles, looking a touch sullen. Nynaeve had been right. They had tried to second-guess, starting when the real purpose of this journey, or some of it, was revealed to them two days ago. Neither seemed to think two young women were competent-competent!-to seek the Black Ajah. A threat by Nynaeve to have them transferred to another Sea Folk ship, headed the other way, had nipped that in the bud. At least it had once Toram and a dozen crewmen gathered ready to shove them into a boat to be rowed across. Elayne gave them a searching look. Sullenness meant rebellion; they were going to have more trouble from these two." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Where will you go now, Coine?\" Nynaeve was asking as Elayne reached them.\n\n\"To Dantora, and the Aile Jafar,\" the Sailmistress replied, \"and then onto Cantorin and the Aile Somera, spreading news of the Coramoor, if it pleases the Light. But I must allow Toram to trade here, or he will burst.\"\n\nHer husband was down on the docks now, without his strange wire-framed lens, bare-chested and be-ringed, talking earnestly with men in baggy white trousers and coats embroidered with scrollwork on the shoulders. Each Tanchican wore a dark, cylindrical cap, and a transparent veil across his face. The veils looked ridiculous, especially on the men with thick mustaches.\n\n\"The Light send you a safe voyage,\" Nynaeve said, shifting her bundles on her back. \"If we discover any danger here that might threaten you before you sail, we will send word.\" Coine and her sister looked remarkably calm. Knowledge of the Black Ajah hardly fazed them; it was the Coramoor, Rand, who was important.\n\nJorin kissed her fingertips and pressed them to Elayne's lips. \"The Light willing, we shall meet again.\"\n\n\"The Light willing,\" Elayne responded, duplicating the Windfinder's gesture. It still felt odd, but it was an honor, too, used only between close family members or lovers. She was going to miss the Sea Folk woman. She had learned a great deal, and taught a little, as well. Jorin could certainly weave Fire much better now.\n\nWhen they reached the foot of the gangplank, Nynaeve heaved a sigh of relief. An oily potion Jorin produced had settled her stomach after two days at sea, but all the same she had been tight-eyed and tight-mouthed until Tanchico came insight." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The two men bracketed them immediately, without any instructions, Juilin taking the lead with his bundle on his back and his pale, thumb-thick staff held in both hands, dark eyes alert. Thom brought up the rear, somehow managing a dangerous look despite his white hair and his limp and his gleeman's cloak.\n\nNynaeve pursed her lips fora moment but said nothing, which Elayne thought wise. Before they had gone fifty paces down the long stone dock she had seen as many slitty-eyed, hungry-faced men studying them, and Tanchicans and others shifting crates and bales and sacks on the dock. She suspected any of them would have been willing to cut her throat in the hope that a silk dress meant money in her purse. They did not frighten her; she could handle any two or three of them, she was sure. But she and Nynaeve had their Great Serpent rings in their pouches, and it would be useless to pretend no connection with the White Tower if she channeled in front of a hundred men. Best if Juilin and Thom looked as fierce as they could. She would not have minded having ten more just like them.\n\nSuddenly there was a roar from the deck of one of the smaller ships. \"You! It do be you!\" A wide, round-faced man in a green silk coat leaped onto the dock, ignoring Juilin's raised staff to stare at her and Nynaeve. A beard with no mustache marked him as an Illianer, and so did his accent. He seemed vaguely familiar.\n\n\"Master Domon?\" Nynaeve said after a moment, giving her braid a sharp tug. \"Bayle Domon?\"\n\nHe nodded. \"Aye. I did never think to see you again. I... did wait as long as I could in Falme, but the time did come when I must sailor watch my ship burn.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elayne knew him now. He had agreed to carry them out of Falme, but chaos had seized that city before they could reach his vessel. That coat said he had done well since.\n\n\"A pleasure to see you again,\" Nynaeve said coolly, \"but if you will excuse us, we must find rooms in the city.\"\n\n\"That will be hard. Tanchico do burst its caulking. I do know a place where my word may bring something, though. I could no remain longer in Falme, but I do feel I owe you some debt.\" Domon paused, frowning with sudden unease. \"Your being here. Will the same happen here as in Falme, then?\"\n\n\"No, Master Domon,\" Elayne said when Nynaeve hesitated. \"Of course not. And we will be glad to accept your help.\"\n\nShe half-expected some protest out of Nynaeve, yet the older woman only nodded thoughtfully and made introductions among the men. Thom's cloak made Domon's eyebrows rise-for an instant she almost thought it looked as though he recognized the gleeman-but Juilin's Tairen garb brought a frown that was returned in kind. Neither man said anything, though; perhaps they could keep the animosity between Tear and Illian out of Tanchico. If they could not, she would have to speak firmly with them.\n\nDomon talked of what had happened with him since Falme as he accompanied them down the dock, and he had indeed done well. \"A dozen good coasting ships the Panarch's taxmen do know about,\" he laughed, \"and four deepwater they do no.\"\n\nHe could hardly have acquired so many honestly in so short a time. It shocked her to hear him speak so openly on a dock full of men." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Aye, I do smuggle, and make such profits as I did never believe. A tenth the amount of the excise in the customs men's pockets do turn their eyes and seal their mouths.\"\n\nTwo Tanchicans in those veils and round hats strolled past, hands clasped behind their backs. Each wore a heavy brass key dangling from a thick chain about his neck; it had the look of a mark of office. They nodded to Domon in a familiar way. Thom looked amused, but Juilin glared at Domon and the two Tanchicans equally. As a thief-catcher he had a proper dislike of those who flouted the law.\n\n\"I do no believe it will last much longer though,\" Domon said when the Tanchicans had passed. \"Things do be even worse in Arad Doman than here, and it do be bad enough here. Perhaps the Lord Dragon does no Break the World yet, but he did break Arad Doman and Tarabon.\"\n\nElayne wanted to say something sharp to him, but they had reached the foot of the dock, and she watched in silence while he hired sedan chairs and bearers, and a dozen men with stout staves and hard faces. Guards with swords and spears stood at the end of the dock, with the look of hired men, not soldiers. From across the wide street along the row of docks, hundreds of defeated, sunken faces stared at the guards. Sometimes eyes flickered toward the ships, but mainly they fixed on the men holding them back from those ships. Remembering what Coine had said about people here mobbing her vessel, desperate to buy passage anywhere away from Tanchico, Elayne shivered. When these hungry eyes looked at the ships, need burned in them. Elayne sat rigidly in her chair as it jounced through the crowds behind prodding staves, and tried not to look at anything. She did not want to see those faces. Where was their king? Why was he not taking care of them?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A sign above the gate of the white-plastered inn Domon took them to, below the Great Circle, proclaimed the Three Plum Court. The only court Elayne saw was the high-walled courtyard paved with flagstones in front of the inn, which was three square stories with no windows near the ground and the upper windows grilled with fanciful ironwork. Inside, men and women crowded the common room, most in Tanchican clothes, and the buzz of voices nearly drowned out the tune of a hammered dulcimer.\n\nNynaeve gasped at her first sight of the innkeeper, a pretty woman not much older than herself with brown eyes and pale honey braids, her veil not hiding a plump rosebud of a mouth. Elayne gave a start, too, but it was not Liandrin. The woman-her name was Rendra-obviously knew Domon well. With welcoming smiles for Elayne and Nynaeve, and making much over Thom being a gleeman, she gave them her last two rooms at what Elayne suspected might be less than the going rate. Elayne made sure she and Nynaeve got the one with the larger bed; she had shared abed with Nynaeve before, and the woman was free with her elbows.\n\nRendra also provided supper in a private room, laid out by two veiled young serving men. Elayne found herself staring at a plate of a roast lamb with spiced apple jelly and some sort of long yellowish beans prepared with pinenuts. She could not touch it. All those hungry faces. Domon ate readily enough, him and his smuggling and his gold. Thom and Juilin showed no reticence either.\n\n\"Rendra,\" Nynaeve said quietly, \"does anyone here help the poor? I can lay my hands on a good bit of gold if it would help.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You could donate to Bayle's kitchen,\" the innkeeper replied, giving Domon a smile. \"The man avoids all of the taxes, yet he taxes himself. For each crown he gives as the bribe, he gives two for the soup and the bread for the poor. He has even talked me into giving, and I pay my taxes.\"\n\n\"It do be less than the taxes,\" Domon muttered, hunching his shoulders defensively. \"I do make a very healthy profit, Fortune prick me if I do no.\"\n\n\"It is good that you like to help people, Master Domon,\" Nynaeve said when Rendra and the servants had gone. Thom and Juilin both got up to see they really had gone. With a half-bow, Thom let Juilin open the door; the hall outside was empty. Nynaeve went right on. \"We may need your help, too.\"\n\nThe Illianer's knife and fork paused in cutting apiece of lamb. \"How?\" he asked suspiciously.\n\n\"I do not know exactly, Master Domon. You have ships. You must have men. We may need ears and eyes. Some of the Black Ajah may very well be in Tanchico, and we must find them if they are.\" Nynaeve lifted a forkful of beans to her mouth as if she had said nothing out of the ordinary. She seemed to be telling everyone about the Black Ajah of late.\n\nDomon gaped at her, then stared incredulously at Thom and Juilin as they settled back in their chairs. When they nodded, he pushed his plate aside and put his head down on his arms. He very nearly earned himself a thump from Nynaeve, if the way her mouth tightened was any indication, and Elayne would not have blamed her. Why should he need them to confirm her word?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Finally Domon roused himself. \"It do be going to happen again. Falme allover. Maybe it do be time for me to pack up and go. If I do take the ships I have back to Illian, I will be a wealthy man there, too.\"\n\n\"I doubt you'd find Illian congenial,\" Nynaeve told him in a firm voice. \"I understand that Sammael rules there now, if not openly. You might not enjoy your wealth under one of the Forsaken.\" Domon's eyes nearly came out of his head, but she went right on. \"There are no safe places any longer. You can run like a rabbit, but you cannot hide. Is it not better to do what you canto fightback like a man?\"\n\nNynaeve was being too hard; she always had to bully people. Elayne smiled and leaned over to put a hand on Domon's arm. \"We do not mean to browbeat you, Master Domon, but we truly may need your help. I know you fora brave man, else you would not have waited for us as long as you did at Falme. We will be most grateful.\"\n\n\"You do this very well,\" Domon muttered. \"One with an ox driver's stick, the other with a queen's honey. Oh, very well. I will help as I can. But I will no promise to remain for another Falme.\"\n\nThom and Juilin set into question him closely about Tanchico as they ate. At least, Juilin did in a roundabout manner, suggesting questions to Thom about what districts thieves and cutpurses and burglars frequented, what wineshops they used, and who bought their stolen goods. The thief-catcher maintained that such people often knew more of what was going on in a city than the authorities did. He did not seem to want to talk to the Illianer directly, and Domon snorted every time he answered one of the Tairen's questions put by Thom. He did not answer until they were put by Thom. Thom's own questions made no sense, at least not coming from a gleeman. He asked of nobles and factions, of who was allied to whom and who opposed, of who had what stated aims, and what their actions brought about, and whether the results were different from what they supposedly wanted. Not the kind of questions she expected from him at all, even after all their conversations on Wavedancer. He had been willing enough to talk with her-he even seemed to enjoy it-but somehow every time she thought she might dig out something about his past, that was just when he managed to put her backup and send her stalking away. Domon answered Thom with more alacrity than he did Juilin. In either case, though, he seemed to know Tanchico very well, both its lords and officials and its dark underbelly; as he talked, it often sounded as if there were little difference." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Once the two men had wrung the smuggler dry, Nynaeve summoned Rendra to bring pen and ink and paper, and wrote out a list describing each of the Black sisters. Holding the sheets gingerly in one big hand, Domon frowned at them uneasily, as though they were the women themselves, but he promised to have such of his men as were in port keep their eyes open. When Nynaeve reminded him that they all should take extreme care, he laughed the way he would had she told him not to run himself through with a sword.\n\nJuilin left on Domon's heels, twirling his pale staff and saying night was the best time to find thieves and people who lived off thieves. Nynaeve announced she was retiring to her room-her room-to lie down awhile. She looked a bit unsteady, and suddenly Elayne realized why. Nynaeve had become used to Wavedancer\" sheaving; now she was having trouble with the ground not heaving. The woman's stomach was not a pleasant traveling companion.\n\nShe herself followed Thom down to the common room, where he had promised Rendra he would perform. Fora wonder she found a bench at an empty table, and cool looks sufficed toward off the men who suddenly seemed to want to sit there. Rendra brought her a silver cup of wine, and she sipped as she listened to Thom play his harp, singing love songs like'The First Rose of Summer\" and'The Wind That Shakes the Willow,\" and funny songs like'Only One Boot\" and'The Old Gray Goose.\" His listeners were appreciative, slapping the tables for applause. After awhile Elayne slapped hers, too. She had not drunk more than half her wine, but a handsome young serving man smiled at her and filled it up. It was all strangely exciting. In her whole life she had not been in an inn's common room half a dozen times, and never to sip wine and be entertained like one of the common people." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Flourishing his cloak to set the multihued patches fluttering, Thom told stories-\"Mara and the Three Foolish Kings,\" and several tales about Anla, the Wise Counselor-and recited along stretch of The Great Hunt of the Horn, reciting it so that horses seemed to prance and trumpets blare in the common room, and men and women fought and loved and died." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "On into the night he sang and recited, only pausing now and then to wet his throat with a sip of wine as the patrons eagerly clamored for more. The woman who had been playing the dulcimer satin a corner with her instrument on her knees and a sour expression on her face. People often tossed coins to Thom-he had enlisted a small boy to gather them up-and it was unlikely they had produced as much for her music.\n\nIt all seemed to suit Thom, the harp, and especially the recital. Well, he was a gleeman, but it seemed more than that. Elayne could have sworn she had heard him recite The Great Hunt before, but in High Chant, not Plain. How could that be? He was just a simple old gleeman.\n\nFinally, in the deep hours of the night, Thom bowed with a last sweeping flourish of his cloak and headed for the stairs amid great slapping of tables. Elayne slapped hers as vigorously as anyone.\n\nRising to follow, she slipped and sat back down hard, frowning at her silver winecup. It was full. Surely she had drunk a little. She felt dizzy for some reason. Yes. That sweet young man with those melting brown eyes had refilled her cup-how many times? Not that it mattered. She never drank more than one cup of wine. Never. It was being off Wavedancer and back on dry land. She was reacting like Nynaeve. That was all.\n\nGetting carefully to her feet-and refusing the sweet young man's most solicitous offer of help-she managed to climb the stairs despite the way they swayed. Not stopping at the second floor, where her and Nynaeve's room was, she went up to the third and knocked on Thom's door. He opened it slowly, peering out suspiciously. He seemed to have a knife in his hand, and then it was gone. Strange. She seized one of his long white mustaches." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I remember,\" she said. Her tongue did not seem to be working properly; the words sounded... fuzzy. \"I was sitting on your knee, and I pulled your mustache...\" She gave it a yank to demonstrate, and he winced. \"... and my mother leaned over your shoulder and laughed at me.\"\n\n\"I think it best you go to your room,\" he said, trying to pry her hand free. \"I think you need some sleep.\"\n\nShe refused to let go. In fact, she seemed to have pushed him back into his room. By his mustache. \"My mother sat on your knee, too. I saw it. I remember.\"\n\n\"Sleep is the thing, Elayne. You will feel better in the morning.\" He managed to get her hand loose and tried ushering her to the door, but she slipped around him. The bed had no posts. If she had a bedpost to hold onto, perhaps the room would stop tilting back and forth.\n\n\"I want to know why Mother sat on your knee.\" He stepped back, and she realized she was reaching for his mustache again. \"You're a gleeman. My mother would not sit on a gleeman's knee.\"\n\n\"Go to bed, child.\"\n\n\"I am not a child!\" She stamped her foot angrily, and almost fell. The floor was lower than it looked. \"Not a child. You will tell me. Now!\"\n\nThom sighed and shook his head. At last he said stiffly, \"I was not always a gleeman. I was a bard, once. A Court-bard. In Caemlyn, as it happens. For Queen Morgase. You were a child. You are just remembering things wrong, that's all.\"\n\n\"You were her lover, weren't you?\" The flinch of his eyes was enough. \"You were! I always knew about Gareth Bryne. At least, I figured it out. But I always hoped she would marry him. Gareth Bryne, and you, and this Lord Gaebril Mat said she looks calf-eyes at now, and... How many more? How many? What makes her any different from Berelain, tripping every man who catches her eye into her bed. She is no different-\" Her vision shivered, and her head rang. It took her a moment to realize he had slapped her. Slapped her! She drew herself up, wishing he would not sway. \"How dare you? I am Daughter-Heir of Andor, and I will not be-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You area little girl with a skinful of wine throwing a temper tantrum,\" he snapped." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And if I ever hear you say anything like that about Morgase again, drunk or sober, I'll put you over my knee however you channel! Morgase is a fine woman, as good as any there is!\"\n\n\"Is she?\" Her voice quavered, and she realized she was crying. \"Then why did she-? Why-?\" Somehow she had her face buried against his coat, and he was smoothing her hair.\n\n\"Because it is lonely being a queen,\" he said softly. \"Because most men attracted to a queen see power, not a woman. I saw a woman, and she knew it. I suppose Bryne saw the same in her, and this Gaebril, too. You have to understand, child. Everyone wants someone in their life, someone who cares for them, someone they can care for. Even a queen.\"\n\n\"Why did you go away?\" she mumbled into his chest. \"You made me laugh. I remember that. You made her laugh, too. And you rode me on your shoulder.\"\n\n\"Along story.\" He sighed painfully. \"I will tell you another time. If you ask. With luck, you'll forget this by morning. It's time for you to go to bed, Elayne.\"\n\nHe guided her to the door, and she took the opportunity to tug at his mustache again. \"Like that,\" she said with satisfaction. \"I used to pull it just like that.\"\n\n\"Yes, you did. Can you make it downstairs by yourself?\"\n\n\"Of course I can.\" She gave him her haughtiest stare, but he looked readier than ever to follow her into the hall. To prove there was no need, she walked-carefully-as far as the head of the stairs. He was still frowning at her worriedly from the doorway when she started down." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Luckily she did not stumble until she was out of his sight, but she did walk right by her door and had to comeback." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Something must have been wrong with that apple jelly; she knew she should not have eaten so much of it. Lini always said... She could not remember what it was Lini said, but something about eating too many sweets.\n\nThere were two lamps burning in the room, one on the small round table by the bed and the other on the white-plastered mantel above the brick fireplace. Nynaeve lay stretched out on the bed atop the coverlet, fully dressed. With her elbows stuck out, Elayne noted.\n\nShe said the first thing that came into her head. \"Rand must think I'm crazy, Thom is a bard, and Berelain isn't my mother after all.\" Nynaeve gave her the oddest look. \"I am a little dizzy for some reason. A nice boy with sweet brown eyes offered to help me upstairs.\"\n\n\"I will wager he did,\" Nynaeve said, biting off each word. Rising, she came to put an arm around Elayne's shoulders. \"Come over here a moment. There's something I think you should see.\" It appeared to be a bucket of extra water by the washstand. \"Here. We'll both kneel down so you can look.\"\n\nElayne did, but there was nothing in the bucket but her own reflection in the water, She wondered why she was grinning that way. Then Nynaeve's hand went to the back of her neck, and her head was in the water.\n\nFlailing her hands, she tried to straighten up, but Nynaeve's arm was like an iron bar. You were supposed to hold your breath underwater. Elayne knew you were. She just could not remember how. All she could do was flail and gurgle and choke." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nynaeve hauled her up, water streaming down her face, and she filled her lungs. \"How dare-you,\" she gasped. \"I am-the Daughter-Heir of-\" She managed to get out one wail before her head went back in with a splash. Seizing the bucket with both hands and pushing did no good. Drumming her feet on the floor did no good. She was going to drown. Nynaeve was going to drown her.\n\nAfter an Age she was back out in the air again. Sodden strands of hair hung all across her face. \"I think,\" she said in the steadiest voice she could find, \"that I am going to sick up.\"\n\nNynaeve got the big white-glazed basin down from the washstand just in time, and held Elayne's head while she brought up everything she had ever eaten in her life. A year later-well, hours anyway; it seemed that long-Nynaeve was washing her face and wiping her mouth, bathing her hands and wrists. There was nothing solicitous in her voice, though.\n\n\"How could you do this? Whatever possessed you? I might expect a fool man to drink until he can't stand, but you! And tonight.\"\n\n\"I only had one cup,\" Elayne muttered. Even with that young man refilling it, she could not have had more than two. Surely not.\n\n\"A cup the size of a pitcher.\" Nynaeve sniffed, helping her to her feet. Hauling her, really. \"Can you stay awake? I am going to look for Egwene, and I still don't trust myself to get out of Tel'aran'rhiod without someone to wake me.\"\n\nElayne blinked at her. They had looked for Egwene, unsuccessfully, every night since she had disappeared so abruptly out of that meeting in the Heart of the Stone. \"Stay awake? Nynaeve, it is my turn to look, and better it's me. You know you cannot channel unless you are angry, and...\" She realized the other woman was surrounded by the glow of saidar. And had been for sometime, she thought. Her own head felt stuffed full of wool; thought had to burrow through. She could barely sense the True Source. \"Maybe you had better go. I will stay awake.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nynaeve frowned at her, but finally nodded. Elayne tried to help undress her, but her fingers did not seem to work very well when it came to those little buttons. Grumping under her breath, Nynaeve managed on her own. In only her shift, she threaded the twisted stone ring onto the leather cord she wore hanging around her neck, alongside a man's ring, heavy and golden. That was Lan's ring; Nynaeve always wore it between her breasts.\n\nElayne pulled a low wooden stool over beside the bed while Nynaeve stretched out again. She did feel rather sleepy, but she would not fall asleep sitting on that. The problem seemed to be not falling on the floor. \"I will judge an hour and wake you.\"\n\nNynaeve nodded, then closed her eyes, both hands clutched around the two rings. After a time her breathing deepened.\n\nThe Heart of the Stone was quite empty. Peering into the dimness among the great columns, Nynaeve had circled Callandor, sparkling out of the floorstones, completely before she realized she was still in her shift, the leather cord dangling about her neck with the two rings. She frowned, and after a moment she was wearing a Two Rivers dress of good brown wool, and stout shoes. Elayne and Egwene both seemed to find this sort of thing easy, but it was not easy for her. There had been embarrassing moments in earlier visits to Tel'aran'rhiod, mostly after stray thoughts of Lan, but changing her garb deliberately took concentration. Just that-remembering-and her dress was silk, and as transparent as Rendra's veil. Berelain would have blushed. So did Nynaeve, thinking of Lan seeing her in it. It took an effort to bring the brown wool back." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Worse, her anger had faded-that fool girl; did she not realize what happened when you drank too much wine?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Had she never been alone in a common room before? Well, possibly she had not-and the True Source might as well not exist so far as she was concerned. Perhaps it would not matter. Uneasy, she stared into the forest of huge redstone columns, turning in one spot. What had made Egwene leave here abruptly?\n\nThe Stone was silent, with a hollow emptiness. She could hear the blood rushing in her own ears. Yet the skin between her shoulder blades prickled as if someone were watching her.\n\n\"Egwene?\" Her shout echoed in the silence among the columns. \"Egwene?\" Nothing.\n\nRubbing her hands on her skirt, she found she was holding a gnarled stick with a thick knob on the end. A fat lot of good that would do. But she tightened her grip on it. A sword might be more use-for an instant the stick flickered, half a sword-but she did not know how to use a sword. She laughed to herself ruefully. A cudgel was as good as a sword here; both practically useless. Channeling was the only real defense, that and running. Which left her only one choice at the moment.\n\nShe wanted to run now, with that feel of eyes on her, but she would not give up so quickly. Only what was she to do? Egwene was not here. She was somewhere in the Waste. Rhuidean, Elayne said. Wherever that was.\n\nBetween one step and the next she was suddenly on a mountainside, with a harsh sun rising over more jagged mountains beyond the valley below, baking the dry air. The Waste. She was in the Waste. Fora moment the sun startled her, but the Waste was far enough east for sunrise thereto still be night in Tanchico. In Tel'aran'rhiod it made no difference anyway. Sunlight or darkness there seemed to bear no relation to what was in the real world as far as she could determine." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Long, pale shadows still covered almost half the valley, but strangely amass of fog billowed down there, not seeming to grow less for the sun beating on it. Great towers rose out of the fog, some appearing unfinished. A city. In the Waste?\n\nSquinting, she could make out a person down in the valley, too. A man, though all she could see at this distance was someone who seemed to be wearing breeches and a bright blue coat. Certainly not an Aiel. He was walking along the edge of the fog, every now and again stopping to poke at it. She could not be sure, but she thought his hand stopped short each time. Maybe it was not fog at all.\n\n\"You must getaway from here,\" a woman's voice said urgently. \"If that one sees you, you are dead, or worse.\"\n\nNynaeve jumped, spinning with her club raised, nearly losing her footing on the slope.\n\nThe woman standing a little above her wore a short white coat and voluminous, pale yellow trousers gathered above short boots. Her cloak billowed on an arid gust of wind. It washer long golden hair, intricately braided, and the silver bow in her hands that made a name pop incredulously into Nynaeve's mouth.\n\n\"Birgitte?\" Birgitte, hero of a hundred tales, and her silver bow with which she never missed. Birgitte, one of the dead heroes the Horn of Valere would callback from the grave to fight in the Last Battle. \"It's impossible. Who are you?\"\n\n\"There is no time, woman. You must go before he sees.\" In one smooth motion she pulled a silver arrow from the quiver at her waist, nocked it and drew fletching to ear. The silver arrowhead pointed straight at Nynaeve's heart. \"Go!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nynaeve fled.\n\nShe was not sure how, but she was standing on the Green in Emond's Field, looking at the Winespring Inn with its chimneys and red tile roof. Thatched roofs surrounded the Green, where the Winespring gushed out of a stone outcrop. The sun stood high here, though the Two Rivers lay far west of the Waste. Yet despite a cloudless sky, a deep shadow lay across the village.\n\nShe had only a moment to wonder how they were doing without her. A flicker of movement caught her eye, a flash of silver and a woman, ducking behind the corner of Ailys Candwin's neat house beyond the Winespring Water. Birgitte.\n\nNynaeve did not hesitate. She ran for one of the footbridges across the narrow rushing stream. Her shoes pounded on the wooden planks. \"Comeback here,\" she shouted. \"You comeback here and answer me! Who was that? You comeback here, or I'll hero you! I'll thump you so you think you've had an adventure!\"\n\nRounding the corner of Ailys's house, she really only half-expected to see Birgitte. What she did not expect at all was a man in a dark coat trotting toward her less than a hundred paces down the hard-packed dirt street. Her breath caught. Lan. No, but he had the same shape to his face, the same eyes. Halting, he raised his bow and shot. At her. Screaming, she threw herself aside trying to claw her way awake.\n\nElayne jumped to her feet, toppling the stool over backward, as Nynaeve screamed and sat upon the bed, eyes wide.\n\n\"What happened, Nynaeve? What happened?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Nynaeve shuddered." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"He looked like Lan. He looked like Lan, and he tried to kill me.\" She put a trembling hand to her left arm, where a shallow slash oozed blood a few inches below her shoulder. \"If I hadn't jumped, it would have gone through my heart.\"\n\nSeating herself on the edge of the bed, Elayne examined the cut. \"It is not bad. I'll wash and bandage it for you.\" She wished she knew how to Heal; trying without knowing might well make it worse. But it really was little more than along nick. Not to mention that her head still seemed full of jelly. Quivering jelly. \"It was not Lan. Calm yourself. Whoever it was, it was not Lan.\"\n\n\"I know that,\" Nynaeve said acidly. She recounted what had happened in much the same angry voice. The man who had shot at her in Emond's Field, and the man in the Waste; she was not sure they were one and the same. Birgitte herself was incredible enough.\n\n\"Are you certain?\" Elayne asked. \"Birgitte?\"\n\nNynaeve sighed. \"The only thing I am certain of is that I did not find Egwene. And that I am not going back there tonight.\" She pounded a fist on her thigh. \"Where is she? What happened to her? If she met that fellow with the bow... Oh, Light!\"\n\nElayne had to think a minute; she wanted to sleep so badly, and her thoughts kept shimmering. \"She said she might not be there when we are supposed to meet again. Maybe that is why she left so hurriedly. Whyever she can't... I mean...\" It did not seem to make a great deal of sense, but she could not get it out properly." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Advance the storyline as the writer's tale partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, prophecy\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: The Shadow Rising\nChapter: 40" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Nynaeve shuddered." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"He looked like Lan. He looked like Lan, and he tried to kill me.\" She put a trembling hand to her left arm, where a shallow slash oozed blood a few inches below her shoulder. \"If I hadn't jumped, it would have gone through my heart.\"\n\nSeating herself on the edge of the bed, Elayne examined the cut. \"It is not bad. I'll wash and bandage it for you.\" She wished she knew how to Heal; trying without knowing might well make it worse. But it really was little more than along nick. Not to mention that her head still seemed full of jelly. Quivering jelly. \"It was not Lan. Calm yourself. Whoever it was, it was not Lan.\"\n\n\"I know that,\" Nynaeve said acidly. She recounted what had happened in much the same angry voice. The man who had shot at her in Emond's Field, and the man in the Waste; she was not sure they were one and the same. Birgitte herself was incredible enough.\n\n\"Are you certain?\" Elayne asked. \"Birgitte?\"\n\nNynaeve sighed. \"The only thing I am certain of is that I did not find Egwene. And that I am not going back there tonight.\" She pounded a fist on her thigh. \"Where is she? What happened to her? If she met that fellow with the bow... Oh, Light!\"\n\nElayne had to think a minute; she wanted to sleep so badly, and her thoughts kept shimmering. \"She said she might not be there when we are supposed to meet again. Maybe that is why she left so hurriedly. Whyever she can't... I mean...\" It did not seem to make a great deal of sense, but she could not get it out properly." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I hope so,\" Nynaeve said wearily. Looking at Elayne, she added, \"We had better get you to bed. You look ready to fall over.\"\n\nElayne was grateful to be helped out of her clothes. She did remember to bandage Nynaeve's arm, but the bed looked so inviting she could hardly think of anything else. In the morning perhaps the room would have stopped its slow spin around the bed. Sleep came as soon as her head touched the pillow.\n\nIn the morning she wished she were dead.\n\nWith sunlight barely in the sky, the common room was empty except for Elayne. Head in her hands, she stared at a cup Nynaeve had set on the table before going off to find the innkeeper. Every time she breathed, she could smell it; her nose tried to clench. Her head felt... It was not possible to describe how her head felt. Had someone offered to cut it off, she might have thanked him.\n\n\"Are you all right?\"\n\nShe jerked at the sound of Thom's voice and barely stifled a whimper. \"I am quite all right, thank you.\" Talking made her head throb. He fiddled with one of his mustaches uncertainly. \"Your stories were wonderful last night, Thom. What I remember of them.\" Somehow she managed a small, self-deprecating laugh. \"I am afraid I don't remember very much of anything except sitting there listening. I seem to have eaten some bad apple jelly.\" She was not about to admit to drinking all that wine; she still had no idea how much. Or to making a fool of herself in his room. Above all, not that. He seemed to believe her, from the relieved way he took a chair.\n\nNynaeve appeared, handing her a damp cloth as she sat down. She also pushed the cup with its horrible brew closer. Elayne pressed the cloth to her forehead gratefully." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Have either of you seen Master Sandar this morning?\" the older woman asked.\n\n\"He did not sleep in our room,\" Thom replied. \"Which I should be grateful for, considering the size of the bed.\"\n\nAs though the words had summoned him, Juilin came in through the front door, his face weary and his snug-fitting coat rumpled. There was a bruise beneath his left eye, and the short black hair that normally lay flat on his head looked rough-combed with his fingers, but he smiled as he joined them. \"The thieves in this city areas numerous as minnows in reeds, and they will talk if you buy a cup of something. I have talked with two men who claim to have seen a woman with a white streak in her hair above the left ear. I think I believe one of them.\"\n\n\"So they are here,\" Elayne said, but Nynaeve shook her head.\n\n\"Perhaps. More than one woman can have a white streak in her hair.\"\n\n\"He could not say how old she was,\" Juilin said, hiding a yawn behind his hand. \"No age at all, he claimed. He joked that maybe she was Aes Sedai.\"\n\n\"You go too fast,\" Nynaeve told him in a tight voice. \"You do us no good if you bring them down onus.\"\n\nJuilin flushed darkly. \"I am careful. I have no wish for Liandrin to put her hands on me again. I do not ask questions; I talk. Sometimes of women I used to know. Two men bit on that white streak, and neither ever knew it was more than a scrap of idle talk over cheap ale. Tonight maybe another will swim into my net, only this time maybe it will be a fragile woman from Cairhien with very big blue eyes.\" That would be Temaile Kinderode. \"Bit by bit, I will narrow where they have been seen, until I know where they are. I will find them for you.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Or I will.\" Thom sounded as if he thought that much more likely. \"Rather than thieves, would they not be meddling with nobles and politics? Some lord in this city will begin doing what he usually does not, and he will draw me to them.\"\n\nThe two men eyed one another. In another moment Elayne expected one of them to offer to wrestle. Men. First Juilin and Domon, now Juilin and Thom. Very likely Thom and Domon would get in a fistfight to complete it. Men. That was the only comment she could think of.\n\n\"Perhaps Elayne and I will succeed without either of you,\" Nynaeve said dryly. \"We will begin looking ourselves, today.\" Her eyes barely shifted toward Elayne. \"At least, I will. Elayne may need a little more rest to recover from... the voyage.\"\n\nSetting the cloth down carefully, Elayne used both hands to pickup the cup in front of her. The thick, gray-green liquid tasted worse than it smelled. Shuddering, she made herself keep swallowing. When it hither stomach, for an instant she felt like a cloak snapping in a high wind. \"Two pairs of eyes can see better than one,\" she told Nynaeve, setting the empty cup back down with a clink.\n\n\"A hundred pairs can see even better,\" Juilin said hastily, \"and if that Illianer eel truly sends his people out, we will have at least that many, what with the thieves and cutpurses.\"\n\n\"I-we-will find these women for you if they can be found,\" Thom said. \"There is no need for you to stir from the inn. This city has a dangerous feel even if Liandrin is not here.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Besides which,\" Juilin added, \"if they are here, they know the two of you. They know your faces. Much better if you stay here at the inn, out of sight.\"\n\nElayne stared at them in amazement. A moment gone they had been trying to stare each other down, and now they were shoulder to shoulder. Nynaeve had been right about them causing trouble. Well, the Daughter-Heir of Andor was not about to hide behind Master Juilin Sandar and Master Thom Merrilin. She opened her mouth to tell them so, but Nynaeve spoke first.\n\n\"You are right,\" she said calmly. Elayne stared at her incredulously; Thom and Juilin looked surprised, and at the same time disgustingly satisfied. \"They do know us,\" Nynaeve went on. \"I took care of that this morning, I think. Ah, here is Mistress Rendra with our breakfast.\"\n\nThom and Juilin exchanged disconcerted frowns, but they could say nothing with the innkeeper smiling at them all through her veil.\n\n\"About what I asked you?\" Nynaeve said to her as the woman placed a bowl of honeyed porridge in front of her.\n\n\"Ah, yes. It will be no problem to find the clothes to fit both of you. And the hair-you have such lovely hair; so long-it will be the work of no time to put it up.\" She fingered her own deep golden braids.\n\nThom's and Juilin's faces made Elayne smile. They might have been ready for arguments; they had no defense against being ignored. Her head was actually feeling a little better; Nynaeve's vile mixture seemed to be working. As Nynaeve and Rendra discussed costs and cut and fabric-Rendra wanted to duplicate her clinging dress, pale green today; Nynaeve was opposed, but seemed to be wavering-Elayne took a spoon of porridge to wash the taste from her mouth. It reminded her that she was hungry." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There was one problem none of them had mentioned yet, one that Thom and Juilin did not know. If the Black Ajah was in Tanchico, then so was whatever it was that endangered Rand. Something able to bind him with his own Power. Finding Liandrin and the others was not enough. They had to find that, too. Suddenly her newfound appetite was completely gone." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Remnants of the early-morning rain still dripped from the leaves of the apple trees, and a purple finch hopped along a limb where fruit was forming that would not be harvested this year. The sun was well up, but hidden behind thick gray clouds. Seated cross-legged on the ground, Perrin unconsciously tested his bowstring; the tightly wrapped, waxed cords had a tendency to go slack in wet weather. The storm Verin had called up to hide them from pursuit the night of the rescue had surprised even her with its ferocity, and beating rains had come three more times in the six days since. He believed it was six days. He had not really thought since that night, only drifted as events took him, reacting to what presented itself. The flat of his axe blade dug into his side, but he hardly noticed.\n\nLow, grassy mounds marked generations of Aybaras buried here. The oldest among the carved wooden headpieces, cracked and barely legible, bore dates nearly three hundred years old, over graves indistinguishable from undisturbed ground. It was the mounds smoothed by rains but barely covered by grass that stabbed him. Generations of Aybaras buried here, but surely never fourteen atone time. Aunt Neain over by Uncle Carlin's older grave, with their two children beside her. Great Aunt Ealsin in the row with Uncle Eward and Aunt Magde and their three children, the long row with his mother and his father. Adora and Deselle and little Paet. Along row of mounds with bare, wet earth still showing through the grass. He counted the arrows remaining in his quiver by touch. Seventeen. Too many had been damaged, worth recovering only for the steel arrowheads. No time to make his own; he would have to seethe fletcher in Emond's Field soon. Buel Dowtry made good arrows, even better than Tam." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A faint rustle behind his back made him sniff the air. \"What is it, Dannil?\" he said without looking around.\n\nThere was a catch of breath, a moment of startled surprise, before Dannil Lewin said, \"The Lady is here, Perrin.\" None of them had gotten used to him knowing who was who before he saw them, or in the dark, but he no longer really cared what they found strange.\n\nHe frowned over his shoulder. Dannil looked leaner than he had; farmers could only feed so many at once, and food had been feast or famine as the hunting went. Mostly famine. \"The Lady?\"\n\n\"The Lady Faile. And Lord Luc, too. They came from Emond's Field.\"\n\nPerrin rose smoothly, taking long strides that made Dannil hurry to keep up. He managed not to look at the house. The charred timbers and sooty chimneys that had been the house where he grew up. He did scan the trees for his lookouts, those nearest the farm. Close to the Waterwood as it was, the land held plenty of tall oak and hemlock, and good-sized ash and bay. Thick foliage hid the lads well-drab farm clothes made for good hiding-so even he had difficulty picking them out. He would have to talk with those farther out; they were supposed to see that no one came close without a warning. Even Faile and this Luc.\n\nThe camp, in a large thicket where he had once pretended to be in afar wilderness, was a rough place among the undergrowth, with blankets strung between trees to make shelters, and more scattered on the ground between the small cook fires. The branches dripped here, too. Most of the nearly fifty men in the camp, all young, were unshaven, either in imitation of Perrin or because it was unpleasant shaving in cold water. They were good hunters-he had sent home any who were not-but unaccustomed to more than a night or two outdoors at a time. And not used to what he had them doing, either." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Right then they were standing around gaping at Faile and Luc, and only four or five had longbow in hand. The rest of the bows lay with the bedding, and the quivers, too, more often than not. Luc stood idly flipping the reins of a tall black stallion, the very pose of indolent, red-coated arrogance, cold blue eyes ignoring the men around him. The man's smell stood out among the others, cold and separate, too, almost as if he had nothing in common with the men around him, not even humanity.\n\nFaile came hurrying to meet Perrin with a smile, her narrow divided skirts making a soft whisk-whisk as gray silk brushed silk. She smelled faintly of sweet herbal soap, and of herself. \"Master Luhhan said we might find you here.\"\n\nHe meant to demand what she was doing there, but found himself putting his arms around her and saying into her hair, \"It's good to see you. I have missed you.\"\n\nShe pushed back enough to lookup at him. \"You look tired.\"\n\nHe ignored that; he had no time to be tired. \"You got everyone safely to Emond's Field?\"\n\n\"They are at the Winespring Inn.\" She grinned suddenly. \"Master al'Vere found an old halberd and says if the Whitecloaks want them, they will have to go through him. Everyone's in the village now, Perrin. Verin and Alanna, the Warders. Pretending to be someone else, of course. And Loial. He certainly created a sensation. Even more than Bain and Chiad.\" The grin faded into a frown. \"He asked me to deliver a message to you. Alanna vanished twice without a word, once alone. Loial said Ihvon seemed surprised to find her gone. He said I wasn't to let anyone else know.\" She studied his face. \"What does it mean, Perrin?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Nothing, maybe." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Just that I can't be sure I can trust her. Verin warned me against her, but can I trust Verin? You say Bain and Chiad are in Emond's Field? I suppose that means he knows about them.\" He jerked his head toward Luc. A few of the men had approached him, asking diffident questions, and he was answering with a condescending smile.\n\n\"They came with us,\" she said slowly. \"They are scouting around your camp now. I do not think they have a very high opinion of your sentries. Perrin, why don't you want Luc to know about the Aiel?\"\n\n\"I've talked to a number of people who were burned out.\" Luc was too far to overhear, but he held his voice low. \"Counting Flann Lewin's place, Luc was at five on the day they were attacked, or the day before.\"\n\n\"Perrin, the man's an arrogant fool in someways-I hear he's hinted at a claim to one of the Borderland thrones, for all he told us he's from Murandy-but you cannot really believe he is a Darkfriend. He gave some very good advice in Emond's Field. When I said everyone was there, I meant everyone.\" She shook her dark head wonderingly. \"Hundreds and hundreds of people have come in from north and south, from every direction, with their cattle and their sheep, all talking of Perrin Goldeneyes's warnings. Your little village is preparing to defend itself if need be, and Luc has been everywhere the last days.\"\n\n\"Perrin who?\" he gasped, wincing. Trying to change the subject, he said, \"From the south? But this is as far south as I've gone. I haven't talked to a farmer more than a mile below the Winespring Water.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Faile tugged at his beard with a laugh. \"News spreads, my fine general. I think half of them expect you to form them into an army and chase the Trollocs all the way back to the Great Blight. There will be stories about you in the Two Rivers for the next thousand years. Perrin Goldeneyes, hunter of Trollocs.\"\n\n\"Light!\" he muttered.\n\nHunter of Trollocs. There had been little so far to justify that. Two days after freeing Mistress Luhhan and the others, the day after Verin and Tomas rode on their own way, they had come on the still-smoking ruins of a farmhouse, he and the fifteen Two Rivers lads with him then. After burying what they found in the ashes, it was easy enough to follow the Trollocs, between Gaul's tracking and his own nose. The sharp fetid stink of the Trollocs had not had time to fade away, not to him. Some of the lads had grown hesitant when they realized he meant what he had said about hunting Trollocs. If they had had to go very far, he suspected most would have drifted away when no one was looking, but the trail led to a thicket no more than three miles off. The Trollocs had not bothered with sentries-they had no Myrddraal with them to overawe their laziness-and the Two Rivers men knew how to stalk silently. Thirty-two Trollocs died, many in their filthy blankets, pierced through with arrows before they could raise a howl, much less sword or axe. Dannil and Ban and the others had been ready to celebrate a great triumph-until they found what was in the Trollocs\" big iron cookpot sitting in the ashes of the fire. Most dashed away to throw up, and more than one wept openly. Perrin dug the grave himself. Only one: there was noway to tell what had belonged to whom. Cold as he felt inside, he was not sure he could have stood it himself if there had been." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Late the next day no one hesitated when he picked up another fetid trail, though a few mutters wondered what he was following, until Gaul found the tracks of hooves and boots too big for men. Another thicket, close to the Waterwood, held forty-one Trollocs and a Fade, with sentries set, though most snored at their posts. It would have made no difference had they all been awake. Gaul killed those that were, sliding through the trees like a shadow, and the Two Rivers men were nearly thirty themselves by then. Besides, those who had not seen the cookpot had heard of it; they shouted as they shot, with a satisfaction not much less savage than the guttural Trolloc howls. The black-garbed Myrddraal had been last to die, a porcupine quilled with arrows. No one cared to recover a shaft from that, even after it finally stopped thrashing.\n\nThat evening the second rain came, hours of drenching downpour with a sky full of roiling black clouds and stabbing lightning. Perrin had not smelled Trolloc scent since, and the ground had been washed clean of tracks. Most of their time had been spent avoiding Whitecloak patrols, which everyone said were more numerous than in the past. The farmers Perrin had spoken to said the patrols seemed more interested in finding their prisoners again and those who had broken them free than in looking for Trollocs.\n\nQuite a few of the men had gathered around Luc now. He was tall enough for his red-gold hair to show above their darker heads. He seemed to be talking, and they listening. And nodding.\n\n\"Let's see what he has to say,\" Perrin said grimly.\n\nThe Two Rivers men gave way before Faile and him with only a little prodding. They were all intent on the red-coated lord, who was indeed holding forth." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"... so the village is quite secure, now. Plenty of people gathered together to defend it. I must say I enjoy sleeping under a roof when I can. Mistress al'Vere, at the inn, provides a tasty meal. Her bread is among the best I have ever eaten. There truly is nothing like fresh-baked bread and fresh-churned butter, and putting your feet up of an evening with a fine mug of wine, or some of Master al'Vere's good brown ale.\"\n\n\"Lord Luc was saying we should go to Emond's Field, Perrin,\" Kenley Ahan said, scrubbing his reddened nose with the back of a grimy hand. He was not the only one who had been unable to wash as often as he would like, and not the only one coming down with a cold, either.\n\nLuc smiled at Perrin much the way he would have at a dog he expected to see do a trick. \"The village is quite secure, but there is always a need for more strong backs.\"\n\n\"We are hunting Trollocs,\" Perrin said coolly. \"Not everyone has left their farms yet, and every band we find and kill means farms not burned and more people with a chance to reach safety.\"\n\nWil al'Seen barked a laugh. He was not so pretty with a red puffy nose and a spotty, six-day growth of beard. \"We've not smelled a Trolloc in days. Be reasonable, Perrin. Maybe we've killed them all already.\" There were mutters of agreement.\n\n\"I do not mean to spread dissension.\" Luc spread his hands guilelessly. \"No doubt you have had many great successes beside those we have heard of. Hundreds of Trollocs killed, I expect. You may well have chased them all away. I can tell you, Emond's Field is ready to give you all a hero's welcome. The same must be true at Watch Hill for those who live up that way. Any Deven Riders?\" Wil nodded, and Luc clapped him on the shoulder with a hollow good fellowship. \"A hero's welcome, without a doubt.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Anyone who wants to go home, can,\" Perrin said in a level voice. Faile directed a warning frown at him; this was noway to be a general. But he did not want anyone with him who did not want to be there. He did not want to be a general, for that matter. \"Myself, I don't think the job is done yet, but it is your choice.\"\n\nNo one took him up, though Wil at least looked ready to, but twenty more stared at the ground and scuffed their boots in last year's leaves.\n\n\"Well,\" Luc said casually, \"if you have no Trollocs left to chase, perhaps it is time to turn your attentions to the Whitecloaks. They are not happy at you Two Rivers folk deciding to defend yourselves. And I understand they meant to hang the lot of you in particular, as outlaws, for stealing their prisoners.\"\n\nAnxious frowns passed between a good many of the Two Rivers lads.\n\nIt was then that Gaul came pushing through the crowd, followed close by Bain and Chiad. Not that the Aiel had to push, of course; the men cleared aside as soon as they realized who it was. Luc frowned at Gaul thoughtfully, perhaps disapprovingly; the Aielman stared back stony-faced. Wil and Dannil and the others brightened at sight of the Aiel; most still believed hundreds more were hiding somewhere in the thickets and forests. They never questioned why all those Aiel stayed hidden, and Perrin certainly never brought it up. If believing in a few hundred Aiel reinforcements helped them keep their courage, well and good.\n\n\"What did you find?\" Perrin asked. Gaul had been gone since the day before; he could move as fast as a man on horseback, faster in woods, and he could see more." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Trollocs,\" Gaul replied as though reporting the presence of sheep, \"moving up through this well-named Waterwood to the south. They number no more than thirty, and I believe they mean to make camp on the edge of the forest and strike tonight. There are men still holding to the soil to the south.\" He gave a sudden, wolfish grin. \"They did not see me. They will have no warning.\"\n\nChiad leaned closer to Bain. \"He moves well enough, fora Stone Dog,\" she whispered loudly enough to be heard twenty feet off. \"He makes little more noise than a lame bull.\"\n\n\"Well, Wil?\" Perrin said. \"Do you want to go to Emond's Field? You can shave, and maybe find a girl to kiss while these Trollocs have supper tonight.\"\n\nWil flushed a dark red. \"I will be wherever you are tonight, Aybara,\" he said in a hard voice.\n\n\"Nobody means to go home if there are Trollocs still about, Perrin,\" Kenley added.\n\nPerrin looked around at the others, meeting only agreeing nods. \"What of you, Luc? We would be pleased to have a lord and Hunter for the Horn with us. You could show us how it is done.\"\n\nLuc smiled fractionally, a gash on stone that never came close to those cold blue eyes. \"I regret the defenses of Emond's Field still need me. I must see to protecting your people, should the Trollocs come therein greater numbers than thirty. Or the Children of the Light. My Lady Faile?\" He held out a hand to assist her in mounting, but she shook her head.\n\n\"I will remain with Perrin, Lord Luc.\"\n\n\"A pity,\" he murmured, shrugging as if to say there was no accounting for women's taste. Tugging on his wolf-embroidered gauntlets, he swung into the black stallion's saddle smoothly. \"Good luck to you, Master Goldeneyes. I do hope you all have good luck.\" With a half-bow to Faile, he whirled his tall horse showily and spurred him to a gallop that forced some of the men to leap out of his way." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Faile frowned at Perrin in a manner that suggested a lecture on rudeness when they were alone. He listened to Luc's horse until he could hear it no more, then turned to Gaul. \"Can we get ahead of the Trollocs? Be waiting somewhere before they reach wherever they mean to stop?\"\n\n\"The distances are right if we start now,\" Gaul said. \"They are moving in a straight line, and not hurrying. There is a Nightrunner with them. It will be easier surprising them in their blankets than facing them awake.\" He meant that the Two Rivers men might do better; there was no fear smell on him.\n\nThere was certainly fear smell on some of the others, yet no one suggested that a confrontation with Trollocs up and alert, and a Myrddraal to boot, might not be the best plan. They broke camp as soon as he gave the order, dousing the fires and scattering the ashes, gathering their few pots and mounting their ill-assorted horses and ponies. With the sentries in-Perrin reminded himself to have that word with them-they numbered nearly seventy. Surely enough to ambush thirty Trollocs. Ban al'Seen and Dannil each still led half-it seemed the way to keep arguments down-with Bili al'Dai and Kenley and others each heading tenor so. Wil, too; he was not too bad a fellow usually, when he could keep his mind off the girls.\n\nFaile rode Swallow close beside Stepper as they started south with the Aiel running ahead. \"You truly do not trust him at all,\" she said. \"You think he is a Darkfriend.\"\n\n\"I trust you and my bow and my axe,\" he told her. Her face looked sad and pleased at the same time, but it was the simple truth." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "For two hours Gaul led them south before turning into the Waterwood, a tangle of towering oak and pine and leatherleaf, bushy bay trees and cone-shaped redoil trees, tall round-topped ash and sweetberry and black willow, with thickets of vine-woven brush below. A thousand squirrels chittered on the branches, and thrushes and finches and redwings darted everywhere. Perrin smelled deer and rabbits, too, and foxes. Tiny streams abounded, and rush-bordered pools and ponds dotted the forest, often shaded but sometimes open, from less than ten paces across to a few almost fifty. The ground seemed sodden after all the rain it had received, squelching under the horses' hooves.\n\nBetween a large, willow-ringed pond and a narrow rivulet apace wide, perhaps two miles into the wood, Gaul halted. Here the Trollocs would come if they continued as they had been. The three Aiel melted into the trees to make sure of that, and bring back warning of their approach.\n\nLeaving Faile and a dozen men to watch the horses, Perrin spread the others out in a narrow curve, a cup into which the Trollocs should march. After making certain each man was well hidden and knew what he was to do, he placed himself at the bottom of the cup, beside an oak with a trunk thicker than he was tall.\n\nEasing his axe in its belt loop, he nocked an arrow and waited. Alight breeze blew in his face, swelling and falling. He should be able to smell the Trollocs long before they came insight. They should becoming right at him. Touching the axe again, he waited. Minutes passed. An hour. More. How long before the Shadowspawn appeared? Much longer in this damp and bowstrings would need to be changed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The birds vanished a moment before the squirrels went silent. Perrin drew a deep breath, and frowned. Nothing. On that breeze he should surely be able to smell Trollocs as soon as the animals sensed them.\n\nA vagrant gust brought him the putrid stink, like centuries-old sweat and rot. Whirling, he shouted, \"They're behind us! Rally tome! Two Rivers tome!\" Behind. The horses. \"Faile!\"\n\nScreams and shouts erupted from every side, howls and savage cries. A ram-horned Trolloc leaped into the open twenty paces away, raising along curved bow. Perrin drew fletchings to ear and fired in one smooth motion, reaching for another shaft as soon as his arrow cleared bow. His broadhead point took the Trolloc between its eyes; it bellowed once as it fell. And its arrow, the size of a small spear, took Perrin in the side like a hammerblow.\n\nGasping with shock, he hunched over, dropping bow and fresh arrow alike. Pain spread out in sheets from the black-fletched shaft; it quivered when he drew breath, and every quiver shot out new pain.\n\nTwo more Trollocs leaped over their dead companion, wolf snout and goat horns, black-mailed shapes half again as tall as Perrin and twice as broad. Baying, they rushed at him, curved swords upraised.\n\nForcing himself upright, he gritted his teeth and snapped the thumb-thick arrow off short, pulled his axe free and rushed to meet them. Howling, he realized dimly. Howling with rage that filmed his eyes red. They towered over him, their armor all spikes at elbows and shoulders, but he swung his axe in a frenzy, as if trying to cut down a tree with every blow. For Adora. For Deselle. \"My mother!\" he screamed. \"Burn you! My mother!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Abruptly he realized he was hacking at bloody shapes on the ground. Growling, he made himself stop, shaking with the effort as much as with the pain in his side. There was less shouting now. Fewer screams. Was anyone left but him? \"Rally tome! Two Rivers tome!\"\n\n\"Two Rivers!\" someone shouted frantically, off through the damp woods, and then another, \"Two Rivers!\"\n\nTwo. Only two. \"Faile!\" he cried. \"Oh, Light, Faile!\"\n\nA flicker of black flowing through the trees announced a Myrddraal before he could see it clearly, snakelike black armor down its chest, inky cloak hanging undisturbed by its running. As it came closer, it slowed to a sinuous, assured walk; it knew he was hurt, knew him for easy meat. Its pale-faced, eyeless stare stabbed him with fear. \"Faile?\" it said mockingly. Its voice made the name sound like burned leather crumbling. \"Your Faile was delicious.\"\n\nRoaring, Perrin hurled himself at it. A black-bladed sword turned his first stroke. And his second. His third. The thing's slug-white face became fixed with concentration, but it moved like a viper, like lightning. For the moment he had it on the defensive. For the moment. Blood trickled down his side; his side burned like a forge-fire. He could not keep this up. And when his strength failed, that sword would find his heart.\n\nHis foot slipped in the mud churned up beneath his boots, the Fade's blade drew back-and a blurring sword half-severed the eyeless head, so it fell over on one shoulder in a fountain of black blood. Stabbing blindly, the Myrddraal staggered forward, stumbling, refusing to die completely, still instinctively trying to kill." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Perrin scrambled out of its path, but his attention was all for the man coolly wiping his blade with a fistful of leaves. Ihvon's color-shifting cloak hung down his back. \"Alanna sent me to find you. I almost didn't, the way you have been moving, but seventy horses do leave tracks.\" The dark, slender Warder seemed as composed as if he were lighting his pipe before a fireplace. \"The Trollocs were not linked to that...\" He indicated the Myrddraal with his sword; it had fallen, but still stabbed randomly. \"... more's the pity, but if you can gather your people together, they might not be willing to try you without one of the Faceless to goad them. I would estimate about a hundred, to begin. A few less, now. You have bloodied them some.\" He began a calm survey of the shadows beneath the trees, only the blade in his hand indicating anything out of the ordinary.\n\nFora bare moment Perrin gaped. Alanna wanted him? She had sent Ihvon? Justin time to save his life. Shaking himself, he raised his voice again. \"Two Rivers tome! For the love of the Light, rally tome! Here! Rally! Here!\"\n\nThis time he kept it up until familiar faces appeared, stumbling through the trees. Blood-streaked faces, often as not. Shocked, staring faces. Some men half-supported others, and some had lost their bows. The Aiel were among them, apparently unhurt except that Gaul limped slightly.\n\n\"They did not come as we expected\" was all the Aielman said. The night was colder than we expected. There was more rain than we expected. That was how he said it.\n\nFaile seemed to materialize with the horses. With half the horses, including Stepper and Swallow, and nine of the twelve men he had left with her. A scrape marred one cheek, but she was alive. He tried to hug her, but she pushed his arms away, muttering angrily over the broken-off arrow even while she gently pulled his coat away from the thick shaft in an effort to examine where it had gone in." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Perrin studied the men around him. They had stopped coming now, yet there were faces missing. Kenley Ahan. Bili al'Dai. Teven Marwin. He made himself name the missing, made himself count them. Twenty-seven. Twenty-seven not there. \"Did you bring all the wounded?\" he asked dully. \"Is anybody left out there?\" Faile's hand trembled on his side; her expression as she frowned at his wound was a blend of worry and fury. She had aright to be angry. He should never have gotten her into this.\n\n\"Only the dead,\" Ban al'Seen said in a voice as leaden as his face.\n\nWil looked to be frowning at something just out of sight. \"I saw Kenley,\" he said. \"His head was in the crook of an oak, but the rest of him was down at the foot. I saw him. His cold won't bother him now.\" He sneezed, and looked startled.\n\nPerrin sighed heavily, and wished he had not; pain shooting up his side clenched his teeth. Faile, a green-and-gold silk scarf wadded in her hand, was trying to pull his shirt out of his breeches. He pushed her hands away despite her scowl; there was no time for tending wounds now. \"Wounded on the horses,\" he said when he could speak. \"Ihvon, will they attack us?\" The forest seemed too still. \"Ihvon?\" The Warder appeared, leading a dark gray gelding with a fierce eye. Perrin repeated his question.\n\n\"Perhaps. Perhaps not. On their own, Trollocs kill whomever is easiest. Without a Halfman, they would probably rather find a farm than someone who might put arrows in them. Make sure everyone who can stand upright carries a bow with an arrow nocked even if they cannot draw it. They may decide the price is too high for the fun.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Perrin shivered." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If the Trollocs did attack, they would have as much fun as a dance at Sunday. Ihvon and the Aiel were the only ones really ready to fightback. And Faile; her dark eyes shone with fury. He had to get her to safety.\n\nThe Warder did not offer his own horse for the wounded, which made sense. The animal was not likely to let anyone else on its back, and a war-trained horse with its master in the saddle would be a formidable weapon if the Trollocs came again. Perrin tried to put Faile upon Swallow, but she stopped him. \"The wounded, you said,\" she told him softly. \"Remember?\"\n\nTo his disgust, she insisted he ride Stepper. He expected the others to protest, after he had brought them to disaster, but no one did. There were just enough horses for those who could not walk, and those unable to walk far-grudgingly he admitted that he was one of the latter-so he ended up in his saddle. Half the other riders had to cling to theirs. He sat upright, gritting his teeth to do it.\n\nThose who walked or stumbled, and some who rode, clutched their bows as if they meant salvation. Perrin carried one, too, and so did Faile, though he doubted she could even draw a Two Rivers longbow. It was appearance that counted now; illusion that might see them safe. Like Ihvon, alert as a coiled whip; the three Aiel looked unchanged as they glided ahead, spears stuck through the harness of the bow cases on their backs, horn bows in hand and ready. The rest, including himself, were a ragbag remnant, nothing like the band he had led here, so confident and full of his own pride. Yet illusion worked as well as reality. For the first mile through the tangle vagrant breezes brought him Trolloc stink, the scent of Trollocs shadowing, stalking. Then the stench slowly faded and vanished as the Trollocs fell behind, deluded by a mirage." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Faile walked beside Stepper, one hand on Perrin's leg as though she meant to hold him up. Now and then she looked up at him, smiling encouragingly, but with worry creasing her forehead. He smiled back as best he could, trying to make her think he was all right. Twenty-seven. He could not stop the names from running through his head. Colly Garren and Jared Aydaer, Dael al'Taron and Ken Chandin. Twenty-seven Two Rivers folk he had killed with his stupidity. Twenty-seven.\n\nThey took the most direct route back out of the Waterwood, breaking clear sometime in the afternoon. It was hard to tell exactly how late with the sky still blanketed in gray and everything blandly shadowed. High-grass pasture dotted with trees stretched in front of them, and some scattered sheep, and a few farmhouses in the distance. No smoke rose from any of the chimneys; if there was anyone in those houses, something hot would have been cooking in the fireplace. The nearest rising smoke plume looked five miles off at least.\n\n\"We should find a farm for the night,\" Ihvon said. \"Someplace undercover in case it rains again. Afire. Food.\" He looked at the Two Rivers men and added, \"Water and bandages.\"\n\nPerrin only nodded. The Warder was better than heat knowing the right thing to do. Old Bili Congar with his head full of ale was probably better. He just let Stepper follow Ihvon's gray.\n\nBefore they had gone much beyond a mile, a faint thread of music caught Perrin's ear, fiddles and flutes playing merry tunes. At first he thought he was dreaming, but then the others heard, too, exchanging incredulous looks, then relieved grins. Music meant people, and happy people by the sound, someone celebrating. That anyone might have something to celebrate was enough to pick their feet up somewhat." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A gathering of wagons came insight, a little off to the south, like small houses on wheels, tall wooden boxes, painted and lacquered in violent shades of red and blue and green and yellow, all standing in a large, rough circle around a few broad-limbed oak trees. The music came from there. Perrin had heard there were Tinkers, Traveling People, in the Two Rivers, but he had not seen them until now. Hobbled horses cropped the long grass nearby.\n\n\"I will sleep elsewhere,\" Gaul said stiffly when he saw Perrin meant to go to the wagons, and loped away without another word.\n\nBain and Chiad spoke softly yet urgently to Faile. Perrin caught enough to know they were trying to convince her to spend the night with them in some snug thicket and not with'the Lost Ones.\" They sounded appalled at the idea of speaking to the Tinkers, much less eating or sleeping with them. Faile's hand tightened on his leg as she refused, quietly, firmly. The two Maidens frowned at each other, blue eyes meeting gray with a deep measure of concern, but before the Traveling People's wagons came much closer, they trotted away after Gaul. They seemed to have recovered some of their spirits, though. Perrin heard Chiad suggesting they induce Gaul to play some game called Maidens' Kiss. They were both laughing as they passed out of his earshot.\n\nMen and women were working in the camp, sewing, mending harness, cooking, washing clothes and children, levering a wagon up to replace a wheel. Other children ran playing, or danced to the tunes of half a dozen men playing fiddle or flute. From oldest to youngest, the Tinkers wore clothes even more colorful than their wagons, in eye-wrenching combinations that had to have been chosen blindly. No sane man would have worn anything near those hues, and not many women." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As the ragtag party approached the wagons, silence fell, people stopping where they were to watch with worried expressions, women clutching infants and children running to hide behind adults, peering around a leg or hiding their faces in skirts. A wiry man, gray-haired and short, stepped forward and bowed gravely, both hands pressed to his chest. He wore a bright blue, high-collared coat and baggy trousers of a green that almost seemed to glow tucked into kneeboots. \"You are welcome to our fires. Do you know the song?\"\n\nFora moment, trying not to hunch around the arrow in him, Perrin could only stare. He knew this man, the Mahdi, or Seeker, of this band. What chance? he wondered. Of all the Tinkers in the world, what chance it should be folk I know? Coincidences made him uneasy; when the Pattern produced coincidence, the Wheel seemed to be forcing events. I'm beginning to sound like a bloody Aes Sedai. He could not manage the bow, but he remembered the ritual. \"Your welcome warms my spirit, Raen, as your fires warm the flesh, but I do not know the song.\" Faile and Ihvon gave him startled looks, but no more than did the Two Rivers men. Judging by the mutters he heard from Ban and Tell and others, he had just given them something else to talk about.\n\n\"Then we seek still,\" the wiry man intoned. \"As it was, so shall it be, if we but remember, seek, and find.\" Grimacing, he surveyed the bloody faces confronting him, his eyes flinching away from the weapons. The Traveling People would not touch anything they considered a weapon, \"You are welcome to our fires. There will be hot water, and bandages and poultices. You know my name,\" he added, looking at Perrin searchingly. \"Of course. Your eyes.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Raen's wife had come to his side as he spoke, a plump woman, gray-haired but smooth-cheeked, ahead taller than her husband. Her red blouse and bright yellow skirt and green-fringed shawl jarred the eye, but she had a motherly manner. \"Perrin Aybara!\" she said. \"I thought I knew your face. Is Elyas with you?\"\n\nPerrin shook his head. \"I have not seen him in along time, Ila.\"\n\n\"He leads a life of violence,\" Raen said sadly. \"As you do. A violent life is stained even if long.\"\n\n\"Do not try to bring him to the Way of the Leaf standing here, Raen,\" Ila said briskly, but not unkindly. \"He is hurt. They all are.\"\n\n\"What am I thinking of?\" Raen muttered. Raising his voice, he called, \"Come, people. Come and help. They are hurt. Come and help.\"\n\nMen and women gathered quickly, murmuring their sympathy as they helped injured men down from their horses, guiding men toward their wagons, carrying them when necessary. Wil and a few of the others looked concerned over being separated, but Perrin was not. Violence was the farthest thing from the Tuatha'an. They would not raise a hand against anyone, even to defend their own lives.\n\nPerrin found he had to accept Ihvon's assistance to dismount. Climbing down sent jolts of pain radiating out from his side. \"Raen,\" he said, a touch breathless, \"you shouldn't be out here. We fought Trollocs not five miles from this spot. Take your people to Emond's Field. They will be safe there.\"\n\nRaen hesitated-and seemed surprised at it-before shaking his head. \"Even if I wished to, the people would not want it, Perrin. We try not to camp very close to even the smallest village, and not only because the villagers may falsely accuse us of stealing whatever they have lost or of trying to convince their children to find the Way. Where men have built ten houses together, there is the potential for violence. Since the Breaking the Tuatha'an have known this. Safety lies in our wagons, and in always moving, always seeking the song.\" A plaintive expression came over his face. \"Everywhere we hear news of violence, Perrin. Not just herein your Two Rivers. There is a feel in the world of change, of destruction. Surely we must find the song soon. Else I do not believe it will ever be.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You will find the song,\" Perrin said quietly. Maybe they abhorred violence too much fora ta'veren to overcome; maybe even a ta'veren could not fight the Way of the Leaf. It had seemed attractive to him once, too. \"I truly hope that you will.\"\n\n\"What will be, will be,\" Raen said. \"All things die in their time. Perhaps even the song.\" Ila put a comforting arm around her husband, though her eyes were as troubled as his.\n\n\"Come,\" she said, trying to hide her ill ease, \"we must get you inside. Men will talk if their coats are afire.\" To Faile, she said, \"You are quite beautiful; child. Perhaps you should beware of Perrin. I never see him but in the company of beautiful girls.\" Faile gave Perrin a flat, considering look, then tried to gloss it over quickly.\n\nHe made it as far as Raen's wagon-yellow trimmed in red, with red and yellow spokes in tall, red-rimmed wheels, and red and yellow trunks lashed to the outside, standing beside a cook fire in the middle of the camp-but when he put his foot on the first of the wooden steps at the back, his knees gave way. Ihvon and Raen more than half-carried him inside, followed hurriedly by Faile and Ila, and laid him on the bed built into the front of the wagon, with just room to get by to the sliding door leading to the driver's seat.\n\nIt truly was like a little house, even to pale pink curtains at the two small windows on either side. He lay there staring at the ceiling. Here, too, the Tinkers made use of their colors; the ceiling was lacquered sky blue, the high cabinets green and yellow. Faile unfastened his belt and took away his axe and quiver while Ila rummaged in one of the cabinets. Perrin could not seem to rouse any interest in what they were doing." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Anyone can be surprised,\" Ihvon said. \"Learn from it, but do not take it too much to heart. Not even Artur Hawkwing won every battle.\"\n\n\"Artur Hawkwing.\" Perrin tried to laugh, but it turned into a groan. \"Yes,\" he managed. \"I am certainly not Artur Hawkwing, am I?\"\n\nIla frowned at the Warder-or at his sword, rather; she seemed to find that even worse than Perrin's axe-and came to the bed with a wad of folded bandages. Once she had pulled Perrin's shirt away from the arrow stub, she winced. \"I do not think I am competent to remove this. It is bedded deep.\"\n\n\"Barbed,\" Ihvon said in a conversational tone. \"Trollocs do not use bows very often, but when they do the arrows are barbed.\"\n\n\"Out,\" the plump woman said firmly, rounding on him. \"And you as well, Raen. Tending the sick is no business of men. Why don't you go see if Moshea has that wheel on his wagon yet?\"\n\n\"A good idea,\" Raen said. \"We may want to move tomorrow. There has been hard traveling this last year,\" he confided to Perrin. \"All the way to Cairhien, then back again to Ghealdan, then up into Andor. Tomorrow, I think.\"\n\nWhen the red door shut behind him and Ihvon, Ila turned to Faile worriedly. \"If it is barbed, I do not think I can remove it at all. I will try if I must, but if there is anyone nearby who knows more of such things...\"\n\n\"There is someone in Emond's Field,\" Faile assured her. \"But is it safe to leave it in him until tomorrow?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Safer than me cutting, perhaps. I can mix something for him to drink for the pain, and blend a poultice against infection.\"\n\nGlaring at the two women, Perrin said, \"Hello? Do you remember me? I am right here. Stop trying to talk over my head.\"\n\nThey looked at him fora moment.\n\n\"Keep him still,\" Ila told Faile. \"It is all right to let him talk, but do not allow him to move about. He may injure himself more.\"\n\n\"I will see to it,\" Faile replied.\n\nPerrin gritted his teeth and did his best to help in getting his coat and shirt off, but they had to do most of the work. He felt as weak as the worst wrought iron, ready to bend to any pressure. Four inches of thumb-thick arrow stuck out almost atop his last rib, rising from a puckered gash thick with dried blood. They pushed his head down on a pillow, for some reason not wanting him to look at it. Faile washed the wound while Ila prepared her salve with a stone mortar and pestle-plain smooth gray stone, the first things he had seen in the Tinker camp that were not brightly colored. They mounded the salve around the arrow and wrapped him with bandages to hold it.\n\n\"Raen and I will sleep beneath the wagon tonight,\" the Tuatha'an woman said at last, wiping her hands. Frowning at the arrow stub sticking up from his bandages, she shook her head. \"Once I thought he might eventually find the Way of the Leaf. He was a gentle boy, I think.\"\n\n\"The Way of the Leaf is not for everyone,\" Faile said gently, but Ila shook her head again." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It is for everyone,\" she replied just as gently, and a touch sadly, \"if they only knew it.\"\n\nShe left then, and Faile sat on the edge of the bed blotting his face with a folded cloth. He seemed to be sweating a great deal for some reason.\n\n\"I blundered,\" he said after a time. \"No, that is too soft. I don't know the right word.\"\n\n\"You did not blunder,\" she said firmly. \"You did what seemed fitting at the time. It was fitting; I cannot imagine how they got behind us. Gaul is not one to make a mistake about where his enemies are. Ihvon was right, Perrin. Anyone can find circumstances that have changed when he did not know. You held everyone together. You brought us out.\"\n\nHe shook his head hard and made his side hurt worse. \"Ihvon brought us out. What I did was get twenty-seven men killed,\" he said bitterly, trying to sit up to face her. \"Some of them were my friends, Faile. And I got them killed.\"\n\nFaile threw her weight on his shoulders to push him back down. It was a measure of his weakness, how easily she held him. \"There will be time enough for that in the morning,\" she said firmly, peering down into his face, \"when we have to put you back on your horse. Ihvon did not bring us out; I do not think he cared particularly if anyone but you and he did get out. Those men would have scattered in every direction if not for you, and then we'd all have been hunted down. They would not have held together for Ihvon, a stranger. As for your friends-\" Sighing, she sat back down again. \"Perrin, my father says a general can take care of the living or weep for the dead, but he cannot do both.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I am not a general, Faile. I am a fool of a blacksmith who thought he could use other people to help him get justice, or maybe revenge. I still want it, but I don't want to use anyone else for it any longer.\"\n\n\"Do you think the Trollocs will go away because you decide your motives are not pure enough?\" The heat in her voice made him raise his head, but she pushed it back to the pillow almost roughly. \"Are they any less vile? Do you need a purer reason to fight them than what they are? Another thing my father says. The worst sin a general can commit, worse than blundering, worse than losing, worse than anything, is to desert the men who depend on him.\"\n\nA tap came at the door, and a slender, handsome young Tinker in a red-and-green striped coat put his head in. He flashed a smile at Faile, all white teeth and oozing charm, before looking at Perrin. \"Grandfather said it was you. I thought this was where Egwene said she came from.\" He frowned suddenly, disapprovingly. \"Your eyes. I see you have followed Elyas after all, to run with the wolves. I was sure you would never find the Way of the Leaf.\"\n\nPerrin knew him; Aram, Raen and Ila's grandson. He did not like him; he smiled like Wil'Go away, Aram. I am tired.\"\n\n\"Is Egwene with you?\"\n\n\"Egwene's Aes Sedai now, Aram,\" he growled, \"and she would rip your heart outwith the One Power if you asked her to dance. Go away!\"\n\nAram blinked, and hastily shut the door. With himself outside." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Perrin let his head fallback. \"He smiles too much,\" he muttered. \"I cannot abide a man who smiles too much.\" Faile made a choking noise, and he looked at her suspiciously. She was biting her underlip.\n\n\"I have something in my throat,\" she said in a strangled voice, getting up hastily. She hurried to the wide shelf below the foot of the bed where Ila had prepared her poultice and stood with her back to him, pouring water from a green-and-red pitcher into a blue-and-yellow mug. \"Would you like something to drink, too? Ila left this powder, for the pain. It will help you sleep.\"\n\n\"I don't want any powder,\" he said. \"Faile, who is your father?\"\n\nHer back went very stiff. After a moment she turned with the mug in both hands and an unreadable look in her tilted eyes. Another minute passed before she said, \"My father is Davram of House Bashere, Lord of Bashere, Tyr and Sidona, Guardian of the Blightborder, Defender of the Heartland, Marshal-General to Queen Tenobia of Saldaea. And her uncle.\"\n\n\"Light! What was all that about him being a wood merchant, or a fur dealer? I seem to remember him dealing in ice peppers once, too.\"\n\n\"It was not a lie,\" she said sharply, then in a weaker voice, \"Just not... the whole truth. My father's estates do produce lumber and fine woods, and ice peppers, and furs, and more besides. And his stewards sell them for him, so he does trade in them. Ina way.\"\n\n\"Why couldn't you just tell me? Hiding things. Lying. You're a lady!\" He frowned at her accusingly. He had not expected this. A small merchant fora father, a former soldier, maybe, but not this. \"Light, what are you doing running around as a Hunter of the Horn? Don't tell me the Lord of Bashere and all that just sent you off to find adventure.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Still holding the cup, she came back to sit beside him. For some reason she seemed very intent on his face. \" My two older brothers died, Perrin, one fighting Trollocs, the other in a fall from his horse hunting. That made me the eldest, and it meant I had to study account books and trading. While my younger brothers learned to be soldiers, while they were being readied for adventures, I had to learn how to manage the estates! It is the eldest's duty. Duty! It is dull, dry and boring. Buried in paper and clerks.\n\n\"When Father took Maedin with him to the Blightborder-he's two years younger than I-that was more than I could stand. Girls are not taught the sword, or war, in Saldaea, but father had named an old soldier from his first command as my footman, and Eran was always more than happy to teach me to use knives and fight with my hands. I think it amused him. In any case, when Father took Maedin with him, the news had arrived calling the Great Hunt of the Horn, so I... left. I wrote Mother a letter explaining, and I... left. And I reached Illian in time to take the oath of a Hunter...\" Picking up the cloth, she patted at the sweat on his face again. \"You really should sleep if you can.\"\n\n\"I suppose you are the Lady Bashere or some such?\" he said. \"How did you ever come to like a common blacksmith?\"\n\n\"The word is \"love,\" Perrin Aybara.\" The firmness of her voice was at sharp odds with the gentle way that the cloth moved on his face. \"And you are not such a common blacksmith, I think.\" The cloth paused. \"Perrin, what did that fellow mean about running with wolves? Raen mentioned this Elyas, too.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Fora moment he was frozen, unbreathing. Yet he had just berated her for keeping secrets from him. It was what he got for being hasty and angry. Swing a hammer in haste, and you usually hit your own thumb. He exhaled slowly, and told her. How he had met Elyas Machera and learned he could talk to wolves. How his eyes had changed color, grown sharper, and his hearing and his sense of smell, like a wolf's. About the wolf dream. About what would happen to him, if he ever lost his hold on humanity. \"It's so easy. Sometimes, especially in the dream, I forget I'm a man, not a wolf. If one of these times I don't remember quickly enough, if I lose hold, I'll be a wolf. In my head, at least. A sort of half-wrong image of a wolf. There won't be anything of me left.\" He stopped, waiting for her to flinch, to move away.\n\n\"If your ears are really that sharp,\" she said calmly, \"I will have to watch what I say close to you.\"\n\nHe caught her hand to stop her patting. \"Did you hear anything I said? What will your father and mother think, Faile? A half-wolf blacksmith. You're a lady! Light!\"\n\n\"I heard every word. Father will approve. He has always said our family blood is growing too soft; not like it was in the old days. I know he thinks I am terribly soft.\" She gave him a smile fierce enough for any wolf. \"Of course, Mother always wanted me to marry a king who splits Trollocs in two with one stroke of his sword. I suppose your axe will suffice, but could you tell her you are the king of the wolves? I don't think anyone will come forward to dispute your claim to that throne. In truth, the splitting of Trollocs will probably do for Mother, but I truly think she would like the other.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Light!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "he said hoarsely. She sounded almost serious. No, she did sound serious. If she was even half serious, he was not sure the Trollocs might not be better than meeting her parents.\n\n\"Here,\" she said, holding the mug of water to his lips. \"You sound as though your throat is dry.\"\n\nSwallowing, he spluttered at the bitter taste. She had stirred in Ila's powder! He tried to stop, but she filled his mouth, and it was a matter of swallow or choke. By the time he could push the mug away, she had emptied half of it into him. Why did medicine always taste so vile? He suspected women did it on purpose. He would have bet that whatever they took for themselves did not taste that way. \"I told you I did not want any of that. Gaaah!\"\n\n\"Did you? I must not have heard. But whether you did or not, you need sleep.\" She stroked his curly hair. \"Sleep, my Perrin.\"\n\nHe tried to tell her he had indeed told her so, and she had heard it, but the words seemed to tangle around his tongue. His eyes wanted to slide shut. In fact, he could not keep them open. The last thing he heard washer soft murmurs.\n\n\"Sleep, my wolf king. Sleep.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Perrin stood near the Tuatha'an wagons under bright sunlight, alone, and there was no arrow in his side, no pain. Among the wagons firewood was stacked ready to be lit beneath iron cookpots hanging from tripods, and clothes hung from washlines; there were no people or horses. He wore neither coat nor shirt, but a blacksmith's long leather vest that left his arms bare. It could have been any dream, perhaps, except that he was aware it was a dream. And he knew the feel of the wolf dream, the reality and solidity of it, from the long grass around his boots to the breeze out of the west that ruffled his curly hair, to the scattered ash and hemlock. The Tinkers' gaudy wagons did not seem real, though; they had an air of insubstantiality, a feel that they might shimmer and begone any moment. They never remained long in one place, Tinkers. No soil held them.\n\nWondering how much the land held him, he rested a hand on his axe-and looked down in surprise. The heavy blacksmith's hammer hung in the loop on his belt, not the axe. He frowned; once he would have chosen that way, had even thought he had, but surely no more. The axe. He had chosen the axe. Hammerhead suddenly became half-moon blade and thick spike, flickered back to stout cylinder of cold steel, fluttered between. Finally it stopped, as his axe, and he exhaled slowly. That had never happened before. Here, he could change things as he wanted with ease, things about himself at least. \"And I want the axe,\" he said firmly. \"The axe.\"\n\nLooking around, he could just see a farmhouse to the south, arid deer browsing the barley field, surrounded by a rough stonewall. There was no feel of wolves, and he did not call Hopper. The wolf might or might not come, or even hear, but Slayer could well be out there somewhere. A bristling quiver abruptly tugged at his belt opposite the axe, and he had a stout longbow in his hand with a broadhead arrow nocked. Along leather bracer covered his left forearm. Nothing moved except those deer." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Not likely I'll wake soon,\" he muttered to himself. Whatever that stuff was that Faile had fed him, it had taken him right off; he remembered it as clearly as if he had watched over her shoulder. \"Fed it tome like I was a babe,\" he growled. Women!\n\nHe took one of those long strides-the land blurred around him-and stepped into the farmyard. Two or three chickens scattered, running as if they had already gone feral. The rock-walled sheepfold stood empty, and both thatch-roofed barns were barred shut. Despite curtains still at the windows, the two-story farmhouse had the look of emptiness. If this was a true reflection of the waking world-and the wolf dream usually was, in an odd way-the people here had been gone for days. Faile was right; his warning had spread beyond the places he had gone.\n\n\"Faile,\" he murmured wonderingly. Daughter of a lord. No, not just a lord. Three times a lord, a general, and uncle to a queen. \"Light, that makes her a queen's cousin!\" And she loved a simple blacksmith. Women were wondrous strange.\n\nSeeking to see how far the word had spread, he zigzagged more than halfway to Deven Ride, a mile or more at astride, doubling back and crisscrossing his own path. Most farms he saw had that same emptiness; less than one in five showed signs of habitation, doors open and windows up, wash hung out on a line, dolls or hoops or carved wooden horses lying around a doorstep. The toys especially made his stomach clench. Even if they had not believed his warning, surely there were enough burned farms about to tell them the same, tumbled heaps of charred timbers, soot-black chimneys like stark, dead fingers." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Bending to replace a doll with a smiling glass face and a flower-embroidered dress-some woman had loved her daughter to do all that tiny needlework-he blinked." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The same doll still sat on the fieldstone steps where he had picked it up. Ashe reached out, the one in his hand faded and vanished.\n\nFlashes of black in the sky cut short his amazement. Ravens, twenty or thirty together, winging toward the Westwood. Toward the Mountains of Mist, where he had first seen Slayer. He watched coldly while the ravens dwindled to black specks and disappeared. Then he set off after them.\n\nLong, racing strides carried him five miles each, the land a blur except in the moment between one step and the next, into the thick-treed, rocky Westwood, across the scrub-covered Sand Hills, into the cloud-capped mountains, where fir and pine and leatherleaf forested valleys and slopes, to the very valley where he had first seen the man Hopper called Slayer, to the mountainside where he had returned from Tear.\n\nThe Way gate stood there, closed, the Avendesora leaf seemingly just one among a myriad of intricately carved leaves and vines. Scattered trees, wizened and wind-sculpted, dotted the sparse soil among the glazed stone where Manetheren had been burned away. Sunlight sparkled on the waters of the Manetherendrelle below. A faint windup the valley brought him the scent of deer, rabbits, foxes. Nothing moved that he could see.\n\nOn the point of leaving, he stopped. The Avendesora leaf. One leaf. Loial had locked the Waygate by placing both leaves on this side. He turned, and his hackles rose. The Waygate stood open, twin masses of living greenery stirring in the breeze, exposing that dull silvery surface; his reflection shimmered in it. How? he wondered. Loial locked the bloody thing." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Assist the writer, move the story forward.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, prophecy\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: The Shadow Rising\nChapter: 43" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Bending to replace a doll with a smiling glass face and a flower-embroidered dress-some woman had loved her daughter to do all that tiny needlework-he blinked." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The same doll still sat on the fieldstone steps where he had picked it up. Ashe reached out, the one in his hand faded and vanished.\n\nFlashes of black in the sky cut short his amazement. Ravens, twenty or thirty together, winging toward the Westwood. Toward the Mountains of Mist, where he had first seen Slayer. He watched coldly while the ravens dwindled to black specks and disappeared. Then he set off after them.\n\nLong, racing strides carried him five miles each, the land a blur except in the moment between one step and the next, into the thick-treed, rocky Westwood, across the scrub-covered Sand Hills, into the cloud-capped mountains, where fir and pine and leatherleaf forested valleys and slopes, to the very valley where he had first seen the man Hopper called Slayer, to the mountainside where he had returned from Tear.\n\nThe Way gate stood there, closed, the Avendesora leaf seemingly just one among a myriad of intricately carved leaves and vines. Scattered trees, wizened and wind-sculpted, dotted the sparse soil among the glazed stone where Manetheren had been burned away. Sunlight sparkled on the waters of the Manetherendrelle below. A faint windup the valley brought him the scent of deer, rabbits, foxes. Nothing moved that he could see.\n\nOn the point of leaving, he stopped. The Avendesora leaf. One leaf. Loial had locked the Waygate by placing both leaves on this side. He turned, and his hackles rose. The Waygate stood open, twin masses of living greenery stirring in the breeze, exposing that dull silvery surface; his reflection shimmered in it. How? he wondered. Loial locked the bloody thing." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Unaware of crossing the distance, suddenly he was right at the Waygate. There was no trefoil leaf among the verdant tangle on the inside of the two gates. Strange to think that at that moment, in the waking world, someone-or something-was passing through where he stood. Touching the dull surface, he grunted. It might as well have been a mirror; his hand slid across it as across the smoothest glass.\n\nFrom the corner of his eye he caught the Avendesora leaf suddenly in its place on the inside, and leaped back just as the Waygate began swinging shut. Someone-or something-had come out, or gone in. Out. It has to be out. He wanted to doubt that it was more Trollocs, and Fades, coming into the Two Rivers. The gates merged, became stone carvings again.\n\nA sense of being watched was all the warning he had. He jumped-a half-seen image of black streaking through where his chest had been; an arrow-jumped in one of those world-blurring stretches, landed on afar slope and jumped again, out of the valley of Manetheren into a stand of towering fir, and again. Running, he thought furiously, picturing the valley in his mind, and that brief glimpse of the arrow. It had come from that direction, at that angle when it reached him, so it had to have come from...\n\nA final bound took him back onto a slope above Manetheren's grave, crouching among meager, wind-slanted pines with bow ready to draw. Below him, among the stunted trees and boulders, the arrow had been fired. Slayer had to be down there somewhere. He had to be down...\n\nWithout thinking, Perrin leaped away, the mountains a smear of gray and brown and green." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Almost,\" he growled." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Almost, he had duplicated his mistake in the Waterwood, thinking again an enemy would move to suit him, wait where he wanted.\n\nThis time he ran as hard as he could, only three flashing strides to the edge of the Sand Hills, hoping he had not been seen. This time he circled wide, coming back higher on that same mountainside, up where the air felt thin and cold and the few trees were thick-trunked bushes fifty paces or more apart, up above where a man might set himself to watch for another who meant to sneak upon the place that arrow had fired.\n\nAnd there his quarry was, a hundred paces below, dark-haired and dark-coated, a tall man crouched beside a table-sized granite outcrop, his own half-drawn bow in hand, studying the slope farther down with eager patience. This was the first time Perrin had gotten a good look at him; a hundred paces was little distance for his eyes. This Slayer's high collared coat had a Borderland cut, and his face looked enough like Lan's to be the Warder's brother's. Only Lan had no brothers-no living kin at all, that Perrin knew-and if he had had any, they would not have been here. A Borderlander, though. Maybe Shienaran, though his hair was long, not shaved to a topknot, and was held back by a braided leather cord just like Lan's. He could not be Malkieri; Lan was the last living Malkieri.\n\nWherever he came from, Perrin felt no compunction at all in drawing his bow, broadhead point aimed at Slayer's back. The man had tried to kill him from ambush. A downhill shot could be tricky.\n\nPerhaps he had taken too long, or perhaps the fellow felt his cold gaze, but suddenly Slayer became a blur, streaking away east." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "With a curse, Perrin pursued, three strides to the Sand Hills, another into the Westwood. Among the oaks and leatherleaf and underbrush, Slayer seemed to vanish.\n\nHalting, Perrin listened. Silence. The squirrels and birds had gone still. He inhaled deeply. A small herd of deer had passed that way not long since. And a faint tinge of something, human but too cold fora man, too emotionless, ascent that tickled his mind with familiarity. Slayer was somewhere close. The air lay as still as the forest; no stir of breeze to tell him which way that scent came.\n\n\"A neat trick, Goldeneyes, locking the Waygate.\"\n\nPerrin tensed, ears straining. No telling from wherein this dense growth that voice had come. Not so much as a leaf rustled.\n\n\"If you knew how many of the Shadowwrought died trying to get out of the Ways there, it would lift your heart. Machin Shin feasted at that gate, Goldeneyes. But not a good enough trick. You saw: the gate is open now.\"\n\nThere, off to the right. Perrin slipped through the trees as silently as he had when he had hunted here.\n\n\"It was only a few hundred to begin, Goldeneyes. Just enough to keep those fool Whitecloaks off balance and see that the renegade died.\" Slayer's voice became angry. \"The Shadow consume me if that man does not have more luck than the White Tower.\" Abruptly he chuckled. \"But you, Goldeneyes. Your presence was a surprise. There are those who want your head on a pike. Your precious Two Rivers will be harrowed from end to end, now, to root you out. What do you say to that, Goldeneyes?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Perrin froze close beside the gnarled trunk of a great oak." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Why was the man talking so much? Why was he talking at all? He's drawing me right to him.\n\nPutting his back against the oak's thick bole, he studied the forest. No movement. Slayer wanted him to come nearer. No doubt into an ambush. And he wanted to find the man and rip his throat out. Yet it could easily be himself who died, and if that happened, no one would know the Waygate was open, and Trollocs coming by hundreds, maybe even thousands. He would not play Slayer's game.\n\nWith a mirthless smile he stepped out of the wolf dream, telling himself to wake, and...\n\n... Faile twined her arms around his neck and nipped his beard with small white teeth, while Tinkers'fiddles sang some wild, heated tune around the campfires. Ila's powder. I can't wake up! Awareness that it was a dream faded. Laughing, he scooped Faile up in his arms and carried her into the shadows, where the grass was soft.\n\nWaking was a slow process wrapped around the dull pain filling his side. Daylight streamed in at the small windows. Bright light. Morning. He tried to sit up, and fell back with a groan.\n\nFaile sprang up from a low stool; her dark eyes looked as if she had not slept. \"Lie still,\" she said. \"You did enough thrashing in your sleep. I have not kept you from rolling over and driving that thing the rest of the way through you just to watch you do it now you're awake.\" Ihvon stood leaning against the doorframe like a dark blade.\n\n\"Help me up,\" Perrin said. Talking hurt, but so did breathing, and he had to talk. \"I have to get to the mountains. To the Waygate.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She put a hand to his forehead, frowning. \"No fever,\" she murmured. Then, more strongly, \"You are going to Emond's Field, where one of the Aes Sedai can Heal you. You are not going to kill yourself trying to ride into the mountains with an arrow in you. Do you hear me? If I hear one more word about mountains or Waygates, I will have Ila mix something that will put you back to sleep, and you will travel on a litter. I'm not certain you should not anyway.\"\n\n\"The Trollocs, Faile! The Waygate is open again! I have to stop them!\"\n\nThe woman did not even hesitate before shaking her head. \"You can do nothing about it, the state you are in. It is Emond's Field for you.\"\n\n\"But-!\"\n\n\"But me no buts, Perrin Aybara. Not another word on it.\"\n\nHe ground his teeth. The worst was that she was right. If he could not rise from abed alone, how could he stay in the saddle as far as Manetheren? \"Emond's Field,\" he said graciously, but she still sniffed and muttered something about'pigheaded.\" What did she want? I was bloody gracious, burn her for stubborn!\n\n\"So there will be more Trollocs,\" Ihvon said musingly. He did not ask how Perrin knew. Then he shook his head as if dismissing Trollocs. \"I will tell the others you are awake.\" He slipped out, closing the door behind him.\n\n\"Am I the only one who sees the danger?\" Perrin muttered.\n\n\"I see an arrow in you,\" Faile said firmly.\n\nThe reminder gave him a twinge; he just stifled a groan. And she gave a satisfied nod. Satisfied!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "He wanted to be up and on the way immediately; the sooner he was Healed, the sooner he could see to closing the Waygate again, permanently this time." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Faile insisted on feeding him breakfast, a broth thick with mashed vegetables suitable fora toothless infant, one spoon at a time, with pauses to wipe his chin. She would not let him feed himself, and whenever he protested or asked her to go faster, she shoved the words back into his mouth with a spoonful of pap. She would not even let him wash his own face. By the time she got around to brushing his hair and combing his beard, he had settled on dignified silence.\n\n\"You are pretty when you sulk,\" she said. And pinched his nose!\n\nIla, in green blouse and blue skirt this morning, climbed into the wagon with his coat and shirt, both cleaned and mended. To his irritation, he had to let the two women help him don them. He had to let them help him sit up to don them, the coat unbuttoned and the shirt not tucked in, but bunched around the arrow stub.\n\n\"Thank you, Ila,\" he said, fingering the neat darns. \"This is fine needlework.\"\n\n\"It is,\" she agreed. \"Faile has a deft touch with a needle.\"\n\nFaile colored, and he grinned, thinking of how fiercely she had told him she would never mend his clothes. A glint in her eye held his tongue. Sometimes silence was the wiser course. \"Thank you, Faile,\" he said gravely instead. She blushed even redder.\n\nOnce they had him on his feet he reached the door easily enough, but he had to let the two women half-support him to climb down the wooden steps. At least the horses were saddled, and all the Two Rivers lads gathered, bows slung on their backs. With clean faces and clothes, and only a few bandages out where they showed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A night with the Tuatha'an had obviously been good for their spirits, too, even those who still looked as though they could not walk a hundred paces. The haggardness that had been in their eyes yesterday was only a shadow now. Wil had each arm around a pretty, big-eyed Tinker girl, of course, and Ban al'Seen, with his nose and a bandage around his head making his dark hair stand up in a brush, held hands with another smiling shyly. Most of the others held bowls of thick vegetable stew and spoons, shoveling away.\n\n\"This is good, Perrin,\" Dannil said, giving up his empty bowl to a Tinker woman. She gestured as if to ask the beanpole fellow whether he wanted more, and he shook his head, but said, \"I don't think I could ever get enough of it, do you?\"\n\n\"I had my fill,\" Perrin told him sourly. Mashed vegetables and broth.\n\n\"The Tinker girls danced last night,\" Dannil's cousin Tell said, wide-eyed. \"All the unmarried women, and some of the married! You should have seen it, Perrin.\"\n\n\"I've seen Tinker women dance before, Tell.\"\n\nApparently he had not kept his voice clear of what he had felt watching them, for Faile said dryly, \"You've seen the tiganza, have you? Someday, if you are good, I may dance the sa'sara for you, and show you what a dance really is.\" Ila gasped in recognition of the name, and Faile went even redder than she had inside.\n\nPerrin pursed his lips. If this sa'sara set the heart pounding any harder than the Tinker women's swaying, hip-rolling dance-the tiganza, was it?-he definitely would like to see Faile dance it. He carefully did not look at her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Raen came, in the same bright green coat but trousers redder than any red Perrin had ever seen before." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The combination made his headache. \"Twice you have visited our fires, Perrin, and for the second time you go without a farewell feast. You must come again soon so we can makeup for it.\"\n\nPushing away from Faile and Ila-he could standby himself, at least-he put a hand on the wiry man's shoulder. \"Come with us, Raen. No one in Emond's Field will harm you. At worst it's safer than out herewith the Trollocs.\"\n\nRaen hesitated, then shook himself, muttering, \"I do not know how you can even make me consider such things.\" Turning, he spoke loudly. \"People, Perrin has asked us to come with him to his village, where we will be safe from Trollocs. Who wishes to go?\" Shocked faces stared back at him. Some women gathered their children close, and the children hid in their skirts, as if the very idea frightened them. \"You see, Perrin?\" Raen said: \"For us, safety lies in moving, not in villages. I assure you, we do not spend two nights in one place, and we will travel all day before stopping again.\"\n\n\"That may not be enough, Raen.\"\n\nThe Mahdi shrugged. \"Your concern warms me, but we will be safe, if the Light wills it.\"\n\n\"The Way of the Leaf is not only to do no violence,\" Ila said gently, \"but to accept what comes. The leaf falls in its proper time, uncomplaining. The Light will keep us safe for our time.\"\n\nPerrin wanted to argue with them, but behind all the warmth and compassion on their faces lay a stony firmness. He thought he would get Bain and Chiad to don dresses and give up their spears-or Gaul to!-before he made these people budge an inch." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Raen shook Perrin's hand, and with that the Tinker women began hugging the Two Rivers lads, and Ihvon, too, and the Tinker men began shaking hands, all laughing and saying goodbyes and wishing everyone a safe journey, hoping they would come again. Almost all the men did. Aram stood off to one side, frowning to himself, hands thrust into his coat pockets. The last time Perrin met him he had seemed to have a sour streak, odd fora Tinker.\n\nThe men did not content themselves with shaking Faile's hand, but hugged her. Perrin kept his face smooth when some of the younger men became overly enthusiastic, only grinding his teeth a little; he managed to smile. No woman much younger than Ila hugged him. Somehow, even while Faile was letting some skinny, gaudy-coated Tinker fold his arms around her and try to squeeze her flat, she stood guard on him like a mastiff. Women without gray in their hair took one look at her face and chose someone else. Meanwhile Wil appeared to be kissing every woman in the camp. So was Ban, and his nose. Even Ihvon was enjoying himself, for that matter. It would serve Faile right if one of those fellows cracked a rib for her.\n\nFinally the Tinkers moved back, except for Raen and Ila, opening a space around the Two Rivers folk. The wiry, gray-haired man-bowed formally, hands to chest. \"You came in peace. Depart now in peace. Always will our fires welcome you. The Way of the Leaf is peace.\"\n\n\"Peace be on you always,\" Perrin replied, \"and on all the People.\" Light, let it be so. \"I will find the song, or another will find the song, but the song will be sung, this year or in a year to come.\" He wondered if there ever had been a song, or if the Tuatha'an had begun their endless journey seeking something else. Elyas had told him they did not know what song, only that they would know it when they found it. Let them find safety, at least. At least that. \"As it once was, so shall it be again, world without end.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"World without end,\" the Tuatha'an responded in a solemn murmur. \"World and time without end.\"\n\nA few final hugs and handshakes were handed 'round while Ihvon and Faile were helping Perrin upon Stepper. A few last kisses collected by Wil. And Ban. Ban! And his nose! Others, the badly wounded, were half-lifted onto their horses, with Tinkers waving as if to old neighbors off on along journey.\n\nRaen came to shake Perrin's hand. \"Will you not reconsider?\" Perrin asked. \"I remember hearing you say once there was wickedness loose in the world. It's worse now, Raen, and here.\"\n\n\"Peace be on you, Perrin,\" Raen replied, smiling.\n\n\"And on you,\" he said sadly.\n\nThe Aiel did not appear until they were a mile north of the Tinker camp, Bain and Chiad looking to Faile before trotting ahead to their usual place. Perrin was not sure what they thought might have happened to her among Tuatha'an.\n\nGaul moved in beside Stepper, striding easily. The party was not moving very fast, with nearly half the men walking. He glanced at Ihvon measuringly as usual, before turning to Perrin. \"Your injury is well?\"\n\nHis injury hurt like fury; every step his horse took jolted that arrowhead. \"I feel fine,\" he said, not gritting his teeth. \"Maybe we'll have a dance in Emond's Field tonight! And you? Did you pass a goodnight playing Maidens' Kiss?\" Gaul stumbled and nearly fell on his face. \"What is the matter?\"\n\n\"Who did you hear suggest this game?\" the Aielman said quietly, staring straight ahead." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Chiad. Why?\"\n\n\"Chiad,\" Gaul muttered. \"The woman is Goshien. Goshien! I should take her back to Hot Springs as gai'shain.\" The words sounded angry, but not his odd tone. \"Chiad.\"\n\n\"Will you tell me what is the matter?\"\n\n\"A Myrddraal has less cunning than a woman,\" Gaul said in a flat voice, \"and a Trolloc fights with more honor.\" After a moment he added, in a fierce undertone, \"And a goat has more sense.\" Quickening his pace, he ran forward to join the two Maidens. He did not speak to them, as far as Perrin could make out, only slowed to walk alongside.\n\n\"Did you understand any of that?\" Perrin asked Ihvon. The Warder shook his head.\n\nFaile sniffed. \"If he thinks to make trouble for them, they will hang him by his heels from a branch to cool off.\"\n\n\"Did you understand it?\" Perrin asked her. She walked along, neither looking at him nor answering, which he took to mean she did not. \"I think I might have to find Raen's camp again. It has been along time since I saw the tiganza. It was... interesting.\"\n\nShe muttered something under her breath, but he caught it: \"You could do with hanging by the heels yourself!\"\n\nHe smiled down at the top of her head. \"But I won't have to. You promised to dance this sa'sara for me.\" Her face went crimson. \"Is it anything close to the tiganza? I mean, there is no point, otherwise.\"\n\n\"You muscle-brained oaf!\" she snapped, glaring up at him. \"Men have thrown their hearts and fortunes at the feet of women who danced the sa'sara. If Mother suspected I knew it-\" Her teeth clicked shut as though she had said too much, and her head whipped back to face forward; scarlet mortification covered her from her dark hair down to the neck of her dress." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Then there isn't any reason for you to dance it,\" he said quietly. \"My heart and fortune, such as they are, already lie at your feet.\"\n\nFaile missed a step, then laughed softly and pressed her cheek against his booted calf. \"You are too clever for me,\" she murmured. \"One day I will dance it for you, and boil the blood in your veins.\"\n\n\"You already do that,\" he said, and she laughed again. Pushing her arm behind his stirrup, she hugged his leg to her as she walked.\n\nAfter awhile even the thought of Faile dancing-he extrapolated from the Tinker dance; it must be something to top that-could not compete with the pain in his side. Every stride Stepper took was agony. He held himself upright. It seemed to hurt a fraction less, that way. Besides, he did not want to spoil the lift the Tuatha'an had given everyone's spirits. The other men were sitting up straight in their saddles, too, even those who had been hunched over and clinging the day before. And Ban and Dannil and the others walked with heads up. He would not be the first to slump.\n\nWil began to whistle'Coming Home from Tarwin's Gap,\" and three or four more took it up. After a time, Ban began to sing in a clear, deep voice:\n\n\"My home is waiting therefor me, and the girl I left behind. Of all the treasure that waits for me, that's what I want to find. Her eyes so merry, and her smile so sweet, her hugs so warm, and her ankle neat, her kisses hot, now there's a treat. If there's a treasure greater, it lies not in my mind.\"\n\nMore joined in on the second verse, until everyone sang, even Ihvon. And Faile. Not Perrin, of course; he had been told often enough that he sounded like a stepped-on frog, singing. Some even fell into step with the music." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Oh, I have seen stark Tarwin's Gap, and the Trollocs\" raving horde." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I have stood \"fore the Halfman's charge, and walked on death's cold borde. But a winsome lass, she waits for me, fora dance, and a kiss'neath the apple tree...\"\n\nPerrin shook his head. A day before they had been ready to run and hide. Today they sang, about a battle so long ago that it had left no memory but this song in the Two Rivers. Perhaps they were becoming soldiers. They would have to, unless he managed to close that Waygate.\n\nFarms began to appear more often, closer together, until they traveled along hard-packed dirt between fields bordered by hedges or low, rough stonewalls. Abandoned farms. No one here clung to the land.\n\nThey came to the Old Road, which ran north from the White River, the Manetherendrelle, through Deven Ride to Emond's Field, and at last began to see sheep in the pastures, great clumps like a dozen men's flocks gathered together, with ten shepherds where there once would have been one, and half of them grown men. Bow-armed shepherds watched them pass, singing at the tops of their lungs, not knowing quite what to make of it.\n\nPerrin did not know what to make of his first view of Emond's Field, and neither did the other Two Rivers men, from the way their singing faltered and died.\n\nThe trees, fences and hedges closest to the village were simply gone, cleared away. The westernmost houses of Emond's Field had once stood among the trees on the edge of the Westwood. The oaks and leatherleaf between the houses remained, but now the forest's brim stood five hundred paces away, along bowshot, and axes rang loud as men pushed it back farther. Row on row of waist-high stakes, driven into the ground at an angle, surrounded the village a little out from the houses and presented a continuous hedge of sharpened points, except where the road ran in. At intervals behind the stakes men stood like sentries, some wearing bits of old armor or leather shirts sewn with rusty steel discs, a few indented old steel caps, with boar spears, or halberds rooted out of attics, or bush hooks fitted to long poles. Other men, and boys, were upon some of the thatched roofs with bows; they stood when they saw Perrin and the others coming, and shouted to people below." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Beside the road behind the stakes stood a contraption of wood and thick, twisted rope, with a nearby pile of stones bigger than a man's head. Ihvon noticed Perrin frowning at it as they came closer. \"Catapult,\" the Warder said. \"Six, so far. Your carpenters knew what to do once Tomas and I showed them. The stakes will hold off charging Trollocs or Whitecloaks, either one.\" He might have been discussing the prospects for more rain.\n\n\"I told you your village was preparing to defend itself.\" Faile sounded fiercely proud, as though it were her village. \"A hard people, for such a soft land. They could almost be Saldaean. Moiraine always said Manetheren's blood runs strong here still.\"\n\nPerrin could only shake his head.\n\nThe hard-packed dirt streets were nearly crowded enough fora city, the gaps between houses filled with carts and wagons, and through open doors and unshuttered windows he could see more people. The crowd parted before Ihvon and the Aiel, and rustling whispers accompanied them along the street.\n\n\"It's Perrin Goldeneyes.\"\n\n\"Perrin Goldeneyes.\"\n\n\"Perrin Goldeneyes.\"\n\nHe wished they would not do that. These people knew him, some of them. What did they think they were doing? There was horse-faced Neysa Ayellin, who had paddled his ten-year-old backside that time Mat talked him into stealing one of her gooseberry pies. And there was pink-cheeked, big-eyed Cilia Cole, the first girl he had ever kissed and still pleasingly plump, and Pel Aydaer, with his pipe and his bald head, who had taught Perrin how to catch trout with his hands, and Daise Congar herself, a tall, wide woman who made Alsbet Luhhan seem soft, with her husband Wit, a scrawny man overshadowed as always by his wife. And they were all staring at him, and whispering to the people from off, who might not know who he was. When old Cenn Buie lifted a little boy upon his shoulder, pointing at Perrin and talking enthusiastically to the boy, Perrin groaned. They had all gone mad." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Townsfolk trailed after Perrin and the others, around them, in a parade that rode a swell of murmurs. Chickens scurried every which way under people's feet. Bawling calves and pigs squealing in pens behind the houses competed with the noise of the humans. Sheep crowded the Green, and black-and-white milkcows cropped the grass in company with flocks of geese, gray and white.\n\nAnd in the middle of the Green rose a tall pole, the red-bordered white banner at its peak rippling lazily, displaying a red wolf's head. He looked at Faile, but she shook her head, as surprised as he.\n\n\"A symbol.\"\n\nPerrin had not heard Verin approach, though now he caught hushed whispers of'Aes Sedai\" floating around her. Ihvon did not look surprised. People stared at her with awe-filled eyes.\n\n\"People need symbols,\" Verin went on, resting a hand on Stepper's shoulder. \"When Alanna told a few of the villagers how much Trollocs fear wolves, everyone seemed to think this banner a grand idea. Don't you, Perrin?\" Was there a dryness in her voice then? Her dark eyes looked up at him, birdlike. A bird watching a worm?\n\n\"I wonder what Queen Morgase will think of that,\" Faile said. \"This is part of Andor. Queens seldom like strange banners being raised in their realms.\"\n\n\"That's nothing but lines on a map,\" Perrin told her. It was good to be still; the throbbing from the arrowhead seemed to have abated somewhat. \"I did not even know we were supposed to be part of Andor until I went to Caemlyn. I doubt many people here do.\"\n\n\"Rulers have a tendency to believe maps, Perrin.\" There was no doubt of the dryness in Faile's tone. \"When I was a child, there were parts of Saldaea that had not seen a taxman in five generations. Once Father could turn his attention from the Blight fora time, Tenobia made sure they knew who their queen was.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"This is the Two Rivers,\" he said, grinning, \"not Saldaea.\" They did sound very fierce, up therein Saldaea. Ashe turned back to Venn, the grin became a frown. \"I thought you were... hiding... who you are.\" He could not say which was more disturbing; Aes Sedai therein secret, or Aes Sedai in the open.\n\nThe Aes Sedai's hand hovered an inch from the broken-off arrow jutting from his side. Something tingled around the wound. \"Oh, this is not good,\" she murmured. \"Caught in the rib, and some infection in spite of that poultice. This needs Alanna, I think.\" She blinked and pulled her hand back; the tingle went, too. \"What? Hiding? Oh. With what has been stirred up here now, we could hardly remain hidden. I suppose we could have... gone away. You wouldn't want that, would you?\" There was that sharp, considering, birdlike stare again.\n\nHe hesitated, and finally sighed. \"I suppose not.\"\n\n\"Oh, that is good to hear,\" she said with a smile.\n\n\"Why did you really come here, Verin?\"\n\nShe did not seem to hear him. Or did not want to. \"Now we need to see to that thing in you. And these other lads need to be looked after, too. Alanna and I will see to the worst, but...\"\n\nThe men with him were as stunned by what they found here as he was. Ban scratched his head at the banner, and a few just stared around in amazement. Most looked at Verin, though, wide-eyed and uneasy; they had surely heard the whispers of'Aes Sedai.\" Perrin was not escaping those looks entirely himself, he realized, talking to an Aes Sedai as though she were just any village woman." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Verin considered them right back, then suddenly, without seeming to look, reached behind her to snatch a girl of about tenor twelve out of the onlookers. The girl, her long dark hair caught up with blue ribbons, went rigid with shock. \"You know Daise Congar, girl?\" Verin said. \"Well, you find her and tell her there are injured men who need a Wisdom's herbs. And tell her to jump. You tell her I'll have no patience with her airs. Do you have that? Off with you.\"\n\nPerrin did not recognize the girl, but evidently she did know Daise, because she flinched at the message. But Verin was an Aes Sedai. After a moment of weighing-Daise Congar against an Aes Sedai-the girl scampered away into the crowd.\n\n\"And Alanna will take care of you,\" Verin said, peering up at him again.\n\nHe wished she did not sound as though there might be two meanings to that." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Taking Stepper's bridle, Verin led him to the Winespring Inn herself, the crowd melting back to let her through, then falling in after. Dannil and Ban and the others trailed along on horse and afoot, kin mingling with them now. Astounded as they were by the changes in Emond's Field, the lads still showed their pride by striding even if they limped, or sitting up straighter in the saddle; they had faced Trollocs and come home. But women ran their hands over sons and nephews and grandsons, often biting back tears, and their low moans made a soft, pained murmur. Tight-eyed men tried to hide their worries behind proud smiles, clapping shoulders and exclaiming over newly begun beards, yet frequently their hugs just happened to turn into a shoulder to lean on. Sweethearts rushed in with kisses and loud cries, equal parts happiness and commiseration, and little brothers and sisters, uncertain, alternated between fits of weeping and clinging in wide-eyed wonder to a brother everyone seemed to betaking fora hero.\n\nIt was the other voices Perrin wished he could not hear.\n\n\"Where is Kenley?\" Mistress Ahan was a handsome woman, with streaks of white in her nearly black braid, but she wore a fear-filled frown as she scanned faces and saw eyes flinch from hers. \"Where's my Kenley?\"\n\n\"Bili!\" old Hu al'Dai called uncertainly. \"Has anyone seen Bili al'Dai?\"\n\n\"... Hu...!\"\n\n\"... Jared...!\"\n\n\"... Tim...!\"\n\n\"... Colly...!\"\n\nIn front of the inn, Perrin fell out of the saddle in his need to escape those names, not even seeing whose hands caught him. \"Get me inside!\" he grated. \"Inside!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"... Teven...!\"\n\n\"... Haral...!\"\n\n\"... Had...!\"\n\nThe door cutoff the heart-lost wails, and the cries of Dael al'Taron's mother for someone to tell her where her son was.\n\nIna Trolloc cookpot, Perrin thought as he was lowered into a chair in the common room. Ina Trolloc's belly, where I put him, Mistress al'Taron. Where I put him. Faile had his head in her hands, peering into his face worriedly. Care for the living, he thought. I'll weep for the dead later. Later.\n\n\"I am all right,\" he told her. \"I just got a little light-headed dismounting. I've never been a good rider.\" She did not seem to believe him.\n\n\"Can't you do something?\" she demanded of Verin.\n\nThe Aes Sedai calmly shook her head. \"I think better not, child. A pity neither of us is Yellow, but Alanna is still a much better Healer than I. My Talents lie in other directions. Ihvon will bring her. Wait with patience, child.\"\n\nThe common room had been turned into an armory of sorts. Except in front of the fireplace, the walls were a solid mass of propped spears of every description, with the occasional halberd or bill mixed in, and some polearms with oddly shaped blades, many pitted and discolored where old rust had been scoured away. Even more surprisingly, a barrel near the foot of the stairs held swords all jumbled together, most without scabbards and no two alike. Every attic within five miles must have been turned out for relics dust-covered for generations. Perrin would not have suspected there were five swords in the whole Two Rivers. Before the Whitecloaks and Trollocs came, anyway." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gaul took a place off to one side, near the stairs that led up to the inn's rooms and the al'Veres' living quarters, watching Perrin but plainly aware of Verin and every move she made. On the other side of the room, watching Faile and all else, the two Maidens cradled their spears in the crook of an elbow and took a hipshot stance that seemed at once casual and yet balanced on the toes. The three young fellows who had carried Perrin in shifted their feet by the door, staring at him and the Aes Sedai and the Aiel with equally wide eyes. That was all.\n\n\"The others,\" Perrin said. \"They need-\"\n\n\"They will betaken care of,\" Verin interrupted smoothly, seating herself at another table. \"They will want to be with their families. Much better to have loved ones close.\"\n\nPerrin felt a stab of pain-the graves below the apple trees flashed in his mind-but he pushed it down. Take care of the living, he reminded himself harshly. The Aes Sedai brought out her pen and ink and began making notes in that small book in a precise hand. He wondered whether she cared how many Two Rivers folk died, so long as he lived, to be used in the White Tower's plans for Rand.\n\nFaile squeezed his hand, but it was to the Aes Sedai that she spoke. \"Should we not take him up to abed?\"\n\n\"Not yet,\" Perrin told her irritably. Verin looked up and opened her mouth, and he repeated in a firmer voice, \"Not yet.\" The Aes Sedai shrugged and went back to her note-taking. \"Does anyone know where Loial is?\"\n\n\"The Ogier?\" one of the three by the door said. Dav Ayellin was stockier than Mat, but he had that same twinkle in his dark eyes. He had the same rumpled, uncombed look about him as Mat, too. In the old days, what little mischief Mat did not getup to, Dav did, though Mat usually led the way. \"He's outwith the men clearing back the Westwood. You'd think we were cutting down his brother every time we cut a tree, but he clears three to anybody else's one with that monstrous axe he had Master Luhhan make. If you want him, I saw Jaim Thane running to tell them you had come in. I'll bet they all come to get a look at you.\" Peering at the broken-off arrow, he winced and rubbed his own side in sympathy. \"Does it hurt much?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"It hurts enough,\" Perrin said curtly." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Coming to get a look at him. What am I, a gleeman? \"What about Luc? I don't want to see him, but is he here?\"\n\n\"I'm afraid not.\" The second man, Elam Dowtry, rubbed his long nose. Incongruous with his farmer's wool coat and his cowlick, he wore a sword at his belt; the hilt had been freshly wrapped in rawhide and the leather scabbard flaked and peeling. \"Lord Luc is off hunting the Horn of Valere, I think. Or maybe Trollocs.\"\n\nDav and Elam were Perrin's friends, or had been, companions in hunting and fishing, both his age near enough, but their thrilled grins made them seem younger. Either Mat or Rand could have passed for five years older at least. Maybe he could, too.\n\n\"I hope he comes back soon,\" Elam went on. \"He has been showing me how to use a sword. Did you know he's a Hunter for the Horn? And a king, if he had his rights. Of Andor, I hear.\"\n\n\"Andor has queens,\" Perrin muttered absently, meeting Faile's gaze, \"not kings.\"\n\n\"So he is not here,\" she said. Gaul shifted slightly; he looked ready to go hunting for Luc, his eyes blue ice. It would not have surprised Perrin to see Bain and Chiad veil themselves on the spot.\n\n\"No,\" Verin said vaguely, manifestly more intent on her notes than what she was saying. \"Not that he hasn't been a help sometimes, but he does have away of causing trouble when he is here. Yesterday, before anyone knew what he was doing, he led a delegation out to meet a Whitecloak patrol and told them Emond's Field was closed to them. He apparently told them not to come within ten miles. I cannot approve of Whitecloaks, but I do not suppose they took that very well. Not wise to antagonize them more than is strictly necessary.\" Frowning at what she had written, she rubbed her nose, seemingly unaware of leaving a smudge of ink." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Perrin did not much care how the Whitecloaks took anything." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yesterday,\" he breathed. If Luc had comeback to the village yesterday, it was not likely he could have had anything to do with Trollocs being where they were not expected. The more Perrin thought about how that ambush turned around, the more he thought the Trollocs must have been expecting them. And the more he wanted to blame Luc. \"Wanting won't make a stone cheese,\" he muttered. \"But he still smells like cheese tome.\"\n\nDav and the other two looked at each other doubtfully. Perrin supposed he must not seem to be making much sense.\n\n\"It was a bunch of Coplins, mainly,\" the third fellow said in a startlingly deep voice. \"Darl and Hari and Dag and Ewal. And Wit Congar. Daise gave him a fit over it.\"\n\n\"I heard they all liked the Whitecloaks.\" Perrin thought the bass-voiced fellow seemed familiar. He was younger than Elam and Dav by two or three years yet an inch taller, lean-faced but with wide shoulders.\n\n\"They did.\" The fellow laughed. \"You know them. They drift naturally toward anything that makes trouble for somebody else. Since Lord Luc has been talking, they're all for marching up to Watch Hill and telling the Whitecloaks to get out of the Two Rivers. Anyway, they're for somebody else marching up there. I think they mean to be well back in the pack.\"\n\nIf that face had been pudgy, and half afoot or more nearer the ground...\"Ewin Finngar!\" Perrin exclaimed. It could not be; Ewin was a stout, squeaky little nuisance who tried to crowd in whenever the older fellows got together. This lad would be as big as he was, or bigger, by the time he stopped growing. \"Is that you?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ewin nodded with abroad grin. \"We've been hearing all about you, Perrin,\" he said in that surprising bass, \"fighting Trollocs, and having all kinds of adventures out in the world, so they say. I can still call you Perrin, can't I?\"\n\n\"Light, yes!\" Perrin barked. He was more than tired of this Goldeneyes business.\n\n\"I wish I'd gone with you last year.\" Dav rubbed his hands together eagerly. \"Coming home with Aes Sedai, and Warders, and an Ogier.\" He made them sound like trophies. \"All I ever do is herd cows and milk cows, herd cows and milk cows. That and hoe, and chop wood. You've had all the luck.\"\n\n\"What was it like?\" Elam put in breathlessly. \"Alanna Sedai said you've been all the way to the Great Blight, and I hear you've seen Caemlyn, and Tear. What's a city like? Are they really ten times as big as Emond's Field? Did you see a palace? Are there Darkfriends in the cities? Is the Blight really full of Trollocs and Fades and Warders?\"\n\n\"Did a Trolloc give you that scar?\" Voice like a bull or not, Ewin managed a sort of squeaky excitement. \"I wish I had a scar. Did you see a queen? Ora king? I think I'd rather see a queen, but a king would be grand. What is the White Tower like? Is it as big as a palace?\"\n\nFaile smiled, amused, but Perrin blinked at the onslaught. Had they forgotten the Trollocs on Winternight, forgotten the Trollocs in the countryside right then? Elam clutched his sword hilt as if he wanted to be off for the Blight on the instant, and Dav was upon his toes, eyes gleaming, and Ewin looked ready to grab Perrin's collar. Adventure? They were idiots. Yet there were hard times coming, harder than the Two Rivers had seen so far, he was afraid. It could not hurt if they had a little while longer before they learned the truth." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His side hurt, but he tried to answer. They seemed disappointed he had never seen the White Tower, or a king or a queen. He thought Berelain might suffice fora queen, but with Faile there he was not about to mention her. Some other things he shied away from; Falme, and the Eye of the World, the Forsaken, Callandor. Dangerous subjects, those, leading inevitably to the Dragon Reborn. He could tell them a little of Caemlyn, though, and Tear, of the Borderlands and the Blight. It was odd what they accepted and whatnot. The corrupted landscape of the Blight, seeming to rot while you looked at it, they ate up, and top-knotted Shienaran soldiers, and Ogier stedding where Aes Sedai could not wield the Power and Fades were reluctant to enter. But the size of the Stone of Tear, or the immensity of cities...\n\nAbout his own supposed adventures, he said'Mainly I've just tried to keep from having my head split open. That's what adventures are, that and finding a place to sleep for the night, and something to eat. You go hungry a lot having adventures, and sleep cold or wet or both.\"\n\nThey did not like that very much, or appear to believe it anymore than they believed that the Stone was as big as a small mountain. He reminded himself that he had known as little of the world before he left the Two Rivers. It did not help much. He had never been this wide-eyed. Had he? The common room seemed to be hot. He would have taken his coat off, but moving seemed too much effort.\n\n\"What about Rand and Mat?\" Ewin demanded. \"If it's all being hungry and getting rained on, why didn't they come home, too?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Tam and Abell had come in, Tam with a sword belted on over his coat and both men with bows-oddly, the sword looked right on Tam, farm coat or no-so he told it much as he had before, Mat gambling and carousing in taverns and chasing girls, and Rand in his fine coat with a pretty, yellow-haired girl on his arm. He made Elayne a lady, expecting they would never believe the Daughter-Heir of Andor, and was proved right when they expressed incredulity. Still, it all seemed satisfactory, the kind of thing they wanted to hear, and disbelief faded a bit when Elam pointed out that Faile was a lady and seemed to be dancing attendance on Perrin pretty sharp. That made Perrin grin; he wondered what they would say if he told them she was cousin to a queen.\n\nFaile no longer appeared to be amused for some reason. She turned on them with a stare to match Elayne's haughtiest, stiff-backed and frosty-faced. \"You have badgered him enough. He is wounded. Off with you, now.\"\n\nFora wonder, they bowed clumsily-Dav made an awkward leg, looking a complete fool-and murmured hasty apologies-to her, not him!-and turned to go. Their departure was delayed by the arrival of Loial, stooping through the doorway with his shaggy hair brushing the transom. They stared at the Ogier almost as if seeing him for the first time-then glanced at Faile and hurried on their way. That cold, lady's stare of hers did work.\n\nWhen Loial straightened, his head came just short of the ceiling. His capacious coat pockets bore the usual squared bulges of books, but he carried a huge axe. Its haft stood as tall as he did, and its head, shaped like a wood-axe, was at least as big as Perrin's battle-axe. \"You are hurt,\" he boomed as soon as his eyes fell on Perrin. \"They told me you had returned, but they did not say you were hurt, or I would have come faster.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "The axe gave Perrin a start." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Among Ogier, \"putting along handle on your axe\" meant being hasty, or angry-Ogier seemed to seethe two as much the same thing for some reason. Loial did look angry, tufted ears drawing back, frowning so his dangling eyebrows hung down on his broad cheeks. At having to cut trees, no doubt. Perrin wanted to get him alone and find out if he had seen anything more concerning Alanna's doings. Or Verin's. He rubbed his face and was surprised to find it dry; he felt as if he should be sweating.\n\n\"He is also stubborn,\" Faile said, turning on Perrin with the same commanding look she had used on Dav and Elam and Ewin. \"You should be in abed. Where is Alanna, Verin? If she is to Heal him, where is she?\"\n\n\"She will come.\" The Aes Sedai did not lookup. She was back into her little book again, frowning thoughtfully, pen poised.\n\n\"He should still be in abed!\"\n\n\"I will have time for that later,\" Perrin said firmly. He smiled at her to soften it, but all that did was make her look worried and mutter'stubborn\" under her breath. He could not ask Loial about the Aes Sedai in front of Verin, but there was something else at least as important. \"Loial, the Waygate is unlocked, and Trollocs coming through. How can that be?\"\n\nThe Ogier's brows sank even deeper, and his ears wilted. \"My fault, Perrin,\" he rumbled mournfully. \"I put both Avendesora leaves on the outside. That locked the Waygate on the inside, but from the outside, anyone could still open it. The Ways have been dark for long generations, yet we grew them. I could not bring myself to destroy the Gate. I am sorry, Perrin. It is all my fault.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I did not believe a Waygate could be destroyed,\" Faile said.\n\n\"I did not mean destroy, exactly.\" Loial leaned on his long-handled axe. \"A Waygate was destroyed once, less than five hundred years after the Breaking, according to Damelle, daughter of Ala daughter of Soferra, because the Gate was near a stedding that had fallen to the Blight. There are two or three Gates lost in the Blight as it is. But she wrote that it was very difficult, and required thirteen Aes Sedai working together with a sa'angreal. Another attempt she wrote of, by only nine, during the Trolloc Wars, damaged the Gate in such away that the Aes Sedai were pulled into-\" He cutoff, ears wriggling with embarrassment, and knuckled his wide nose. Everyone was staring at him, even Verin and the Aiel. \"I do let myself be carried away, sometimes. The Waygate. Yes. I cannot destroy it, but if I remove both Avendesora leaves completely, they will die.\" He grimaced at the thought. \"The only means of opening the Gate again will be for the Elders to bring the Talisman of Growing. Though I suppose an Aes Sedai could cut a hole in it.\" This time he shuddered. Damaging a Waygate must have seemed like tearing up a book to him. A moment later, he was grim-faced once more. \"I will go now.\"\n\n\"No!\" Perrin said sharply. The arrowhead seemed to throb, but it did not really hurt anymore. He was talking too much; his throat was dry. \"There are Trollocs up there, Loial. They can fit an Ogier into a cookpot as well as a human.\"\n\n\"But, Perrin, I-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No, Loial. How are you going to write your book if you go off and get yourself killed?\"\n\nLoial's ears twitched. \"It is my responsibility, Perrin.\"\n\n\"The responsibility is mine,\" Perrin said gently. \"You told me what you were doing with the Waygate, and I didn't suggest anything different. Besides, the way you jump every time your mother is mentioned, I don't want her coming after me. I will go, as soon as Alanna Heals this arrow out of me.\" He wiped his forehead, then frowned at his hand. Still no sweat. \"Can I have a drink of water?\"\n\nFaile was therein an instant, her cool fingers where his hand had been. \"He is burning up! Verin, we cannot wait for Alanna. You must-!\"\n\n\"I am here,\" the dark Aes Sedai announced, appearing from the door at the back of the common room, Marin al'Vere and Alsbet Luhhan at her heels, and Ihvon right behind them. Perrin felt the tingle of the Power before Alanna's hand replaced Faile's, and she added in a cool, serene voice, \"Carry him into the kitchen. The table there is large enough to lay him out. Quickly. There is not much time.\"\n\nPerrin's head spun, and abruptly he realized Loial had leaned his axe beside the door and picked him up, cradling him in his arms. \"The Waygate is mine, Loial.\" Light, I'm thirsty. \"My responsibility.\"\n\nThe arrowhead truly did not seem to hurt as much as it had, but he ached allover. Loial was carrying him somewhere, bending through doorways. There was Mistress Luhhan, biting her lip, eyes squinched as if about to cry. He wondered why. She never cried. Mistress al'Vere looked worried, too." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Mistress Luhhan,\" he murmured, \"Mother says I can come be apprenticed to Master Luhhan.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "No. That was along time ago. That was... What was? He could not seem to remember.\n\nHe was lying on something hard, listening to Alanna speak. \"... barbs are caught on bone as well as flesh, and the arrowhead has twisted. I must realign it with the first wound and pull it out. If the shock does not kill him, I can then Heal the damage I have done as well as the rest. There is no other way. He is near the brink now.\" Nothing to do with him.\n\nFaile smiled down at him tremulously, her face upside down. Had he really once thought her mouth was too wide? It was just right. He wanted to touch her cheek, but Mistress al'Vere and Mistress Luhhan were holding his wrists for some reason, leaning with all their weight. Someone was lying across his legs, too, and Loial's big hands swallowed his shoulders, pressing them flat to the table. Table. Yes. The kitchen table.\n\n\"Bite down, my heart,\" Faile said from faraway. \"It will hurt.\"\n\nHe wanted to ask her what would hurt, but she was pressing a leather-wrapped stick into his mouth. He smelled the leather and the spicewood and her. Would she come hunting with him, running across the endless grassy plains after endless herds of deer? Icy cold shivered through him; vaguely he recognized the feel of the One Power. And then there was pain. He heard the stick snap between his teeth before blackness covered everything." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Perrin opened his eyes slowly, staring up at the plain white plastered ceiling. It took a moment to realize he was in a four-posted bed, lying on a feather mattress with a blanket over him and a goose-down pillow under his head. A myriad of scents danced in his nose; the feathers and the wool of the blanket, a goose roasting, bread and honeycakes baking. One of the Winespring Inn's rooms. With unmistakable bright morning light streaming in at the white-curtained windows. Morning. He fumbled at his side. Unbroken skin met his fingers, but he felt weaker than at anytime since being shot. A small enough price, though, and a fair enough exchange. His throat felt parched, too.\n\nWhen he moved, Faile leaped up from a chair beside the small stone fireplace, tossing aside a red blanket and stretching. She had changed to a darker narrow-skirted riding dress, and wrinkles in the gray silk said she had slept in that chair. \"Alanna said you needed sleep,\" she said. He reached toward the white pitcher on the small table beside the bed, and she hurriedly poured a cup of water and held it for him to drink. \"You need to stay right here for another two or three days, until you have your strength back.\"\n\nThe words sounded normal, except for an undercurrent he barely caught, a tightness at the corners of her eyes. \"What is wrong?\"\n\nShe replaced the cup carefully on the bedside table and smoothed her dress. \"Nothing is wrong.\" The taut underlying tone was even clearer.\n\n\"Faile, don't lie tome.\"\n\n\"I do not lie!\" she snapped. \"I will have some breakfast brought up to you, and you're lucky I do that, calling me-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Faile.\" He said her name as sternly as he could, and she hesitated, her most arrogant, chin-up glare changing to forehead-creasing worry and back again. He met her gaze straight on; she was not going to getaway with any fine lady's haughty tricks with him.\n\nAt last, she sighed. \"I suppose you have aright to know. But you are still staying in that bed until Alanna and I say you can getup. Loial and Gaul are gone.\"\n\n\"Gone?\" He blinked in confusion. \"What do you mean gone? They left?\"\n\n\"Ina way. The sentries saw them go, this morning at first light, trotting off into the Westwood together. None of them thought anything of it; certainly none tried to stop them, an Ogier and an Aiel. I heard of it less than an hour ago. They were talking about trees, Perrin. About how the Ogier sing to trees.\"\n\n\"Trees?\" Perrin growled. \"It's that bloody Waygate! Burn me, I told him not to... They'll get themselves killed before they reach it!\"\n\nThrowing off the blanket, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, wobbling to his feet. He had nothing on, he realized, not even his smallclothes. But if they expected to keep him caged under a blanket, they were sadly mistaken. He could see everything folded neatly on the tall-backed chair by the door, with his boots beside it and his axe hanging by its belt from a peg on the wall. Stumbling to his clothes, he began dressing as quickly as he could.\n\n\"What are you doing?\" Faile demanded. \"You put yourself back in that bed!\" One fist on her hip, she pointed commandingly, as if her finger could transport him there." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"They can't have gotten that far,\" he told her." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Not afoot. Gaul won't ride, and Loial always did claim he trusted his own feet more than any horse. I can catch them upon Stepper by midday latest.\" Pulling his shirt over his head he left it hanging loose over his breeches and sat down-dropped, actually-to draw on his boots.\n\n\"You are mad, Perrin Aybara! What chance you can even find them in that forest?\"\n\n\"I am not so bad at tracking, myself. I can find them.\" He smiled at her, but she was not having any.\n\n\"You can get yourself killed, you hairy fool! Look at you. You can hardly stand. You would fallout of the saddle before you had gone a mile!\"\n\nHiding the effort involved, he stood and stamped his feet to settle them in his boots. Stepper would do all the work; he only needed to hold on. \"Nonsense. I'm strong as a horse. Stop trying to bully me.\" Shrugging into his coat, he snatched up his axe and belt. Faile caught his arm as he opened the door, and was pulled along, vainly trying to haul him back.\n\n\"Sometimes you have the brains of a horse,\" she panted. \"Less! Perrin, you must listen tome. You must-\"\n\nThe room lay only a few steps along the narrow hallway from the stairs leading down to the empty common room, and it was the stairs that betrayed him. When his knee bent to lower him that first step, it kept right on bending; he toppled forward, vainly trying to catch the banister, pulling a yelling Faile with him. Rolling over and over, they thumped down the stairs to come up with a final thud against the barrel at the bottom, Faile lying stretched full-length atop him. The barrel teetered and spun, rattling the swords inside, before settling with a final clank." }, { "from": "human", "value": "It took a moment for Perrin to gather enough breath to speak." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Are you all right?\" he said anxiously. She was sprawled limply on his chest. He shook her gently. \"Faile, are you-?\"\n\nSlowly she raised her head and brushed a few short strands of dark hair from her face, then stared at him intently. \"Are you all right? Because if you are, I may very well do something violent to you.\"\n\nPerrin snorted; she was probably hurt less than he. Gingerly, he felt at where the arrow had been, but that was in no worse shape than the rest of him. Of course, the rest of him seemed bruised from head to toe. \"Get off of me, Faile. I need to fetch Stepper.\"\n\nInstead, she seized his collar with both hands and leaned very close, until their noses almost touched. \"Listen tome, Perrin,\" she said urgently. \"You-can-not-do-everything. If Loial and Gaul have gone to lock the Waygate, you must let them. Your place is here. Even if you were strong enough-and you are not! Do you hear me? You are not strong enough!-but even if you were, you must not go after them. You cannot do everything!\"\n\n\"Why, whatever are you two doing?\" Marin al'Vere said. Wiping her hands on her long white apron, she came from the backdoor of the common room. Her eyebrows looked to be trying to climb into her hair. \"I expected Trollocs after all that racket, but not this.\" She sounded half scandalized, and half amused.\n\nWhat they looked like, Perrin realized, with Faile lying on him that way, their heads close together, was a couple playing kissing games. On the floor of the common room.\n\nFaile's cheeks reddened and she got up very quickly, dusting her dress. \"He is as stubborn as a Trolloc, Mistress al'Vere. I told him he was too weak to rise. He must go back to his bed immediately. He has to learn he cannot do everything himself, especially when he cannot even walk down a flight of steps.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh, my dear,\" Mistress al'Vere said, shaking her head, \"that is quite the wrong way.\" Leaning close to the younger woman, she whispered softly, but Perrin heard every word. \"He was an easy little boy to manage most of the time, if you handled him properly, but when you tried to push him, he was as muley as any in the Two Rivers. Men don't really change that much, only grow taller. If you go telling him what he must and musn't do, he will surely lay his ears back and dig his heels in. Let me show you.\" Marin turned a beaming smile on him, ignoring his glare. \"Perrin, don't you think one of my good goose-feather mattresses is better than that floor? I'll bring you some of my kidney pie just as soon as we have you tucked in. You must be hungry, after no supper last night. Here. Why don't let me help you up?\"\n\nPushing their hands away, he stood on his own. Well, with the aid of the wall. He thought he might have sprained half the muscles in his body. Muley? He had never been muley in his life. \"Mistress al'Vere, would you have Hu or Tad saddle Stepper?\"\n\n\"When you're better,\" she said, trying to turn him toward the stairs. \"Don't you think you could do with just a little more rest?\" Faile took his other arm.\n\n\"Trollocs!\" The cry from outside came muffled through the walls, echoed by a dozen voices. \"Trollocs! Trollocs!\"\n\n\"That needn't concern you today,\" Mistress al'Vere said, firm and soothing at the same time. It made him want to grit his teeth. \"The Aes Sedai will handle things nicely. Ina day or two we'll have you back on your feet. You will see.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"My horse,\" he said, trying to pull free. They had good holds on his coatsleeves; all he accomplished was swinging them back and forth. \"For the love of the Light, will you stop tugging at me and let me get my horse? Let goof me.\"\n\nLooking at his face, Faile sighed and released his arm. \"Mistress al'Vere, will you have his horse saddled and brought around?\"\n\n\"But my dear, he really needs-\"\n\n\"If you please, Mistress al'Vere,\" Faile said firmly. \"And my horse, too.\" The two women looked at each other as if he did not exist. At last Mistress al'Vere nodded.\n\nPerrin frowned at her back as she hurried across the common room and vanished toward the kitchen, and the stable. What had Faile said different from what he had? Turning his attention to her, he said, \"Why did you change your mind?\"\n\nTucking his shirt in for him, she muttered under her breath. Doubtless he was not supposed to hear well enough to understand. \"I musn't say must, must I? When he is too stubborn to see straight, I must lead him with honey and smiles, must I?\" She shot him a glare that surely had no honey in it, then abruptly changed to a smile so sweet he very nearly backed away. \"My dear heart,\" she almost cooed, pulling his coat straight, \"whatever is happening out there, I do hope you will stay in your saddle, and as far from Trollocs as you can. You really are not up to facing a Trolloc just yet, are you? Maybe tomorrow. Please remember you area general, a leader, and every bit as much a symbol to your people as that banner out there. If you are up where people can see you, it will lift everyone's heart. And it is much easier to see what needs doing and give orders if you aren't in the fighting yourself.\" Picking his belt off the floor, she buckled it around his waist, settling the axe carefully on his hip. She also batted her eyes at him! \"Please say you will do that. Please?\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "As the author's co-writer, advance the plot.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, prophecy\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: The Shadow Rising\nChapter: 47" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He had had to do it, but he thought maybe it would not be such a bad idea to let Dannil and Ban and the others follow him around the way they wanted to. He was not going to be able to sleep easy without somebody guarding his door. Guards. Like some fool lord. At least Faile would be happy. If only he could make them lose that banner somewhere." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The crowds were thick in the confined winding streets of the Calpene near the Great Circle; the smoke of countless cook fires rising above the high whitewalls gave the reason. Sour smells of smoke and cooking and long unwashed sweat hung heavy in the humid morning air with the crying of children and the vague murmurs that always clung to large masses of people, together enough to muffle the shrill caws of the gulls sailing overhead. The shops in this area had long since locked the iron grilles over their doors for good.\n\nDisgusted, Egeanin threaded her way through the throng afoot. It was dreadful that order had broken down enough for penniless refugees to takeover the circles, sleeping among the stone benches. It was as bad as their rulers letting them starve. Her heart should have been gladdened-this dispirited rabble could never resist the Corenne, and then proper order would be restored-but she hated looking at it.\n\nMost of the ragged people around her seemed too apathetic to wonder at a woman in their midst in a clean, well-tended blue riding dress, silk if plainly cut. Men and women in once fine garb, soiled and wrinkled now, speckled the crowd, so perhaps she did not standout enough for contrast. The few who seemed to wonder whether her clothes meant coins in her purse were dissuaded by the competent way she carried her stout staff, as tall as she was. Guards and chair and bearers had had to be left behind today. Floran Gelb would surely have realized he was being followed by that array. At least this dress with its divided skirts gave her a little freedom of movement.\n\nKeeping the weasely little man insight was easy even in this mass of people, despite having to dodge oxcarts or the occasional wagon, hauled by sweating bare-chested men more often than animals. Gelb and seven or eight companions, burly rough-faced men all, shoved through in a knot, an eddy of curses following them. Those fellows angered her. Gelb meant to try kidnapping again. He had found three women since she sent him the gold he had asked for, none more than casually resembling any on her list, and had whined over everyone she rejected. She should never have paid him for that first woman he snatched off the street. Greed and the memory of gold had apparently washed out the hide-flaying tongue-lashing she had given him along with the purse." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Shouts from behind pulled her head around and tightened her hands on the staff. A small space had opened up, as it always did around trouble. A bellowing man in a torn, once-fine yellow coat was on his knees in the street, clutching his right arm where it bent the wrong way. Huddling over him protectively, a weeping woman in a tattered green gown was crying at a veiled fellow already melting into the crowd. \"He only asked fora coin! He only asked!\" The crowd swirled in around them again.\n\nGrimacing, Egeanin turned back. And stopped with an oath that drew a few startled glances. Gelb and his fellows had vanished. Pushing her way to a small stone fountain where water gushed from the mouth of a bronze fish on the side of a flat-roofed wineshop, she roughly displaced two of the women filling pots and leaped up onto the coping, ignoring their indignant curses. From there she could see over the heads of the crowd, Cramped streets ran off in every direction, twisting around the hills. Bends and white-plastered buildings cut her view to less than a hundred paces at best, but Gelb could not have gone farther than that in those few moments.\n\nAbruptly she found him, hiding in a deep doorway thirty paces on, but upon his toes to peer down the street. The others were easy enough to locate then, leaning against buildings to either side of the street, trying not to be noticed. They were not the only ones lining the walls, but where the rest huddled dispiritedly, their scared, broken-nosed faces held expectation.\n\nSo it was to be here, their abduction. Certainly no one would interfere, anymore than people had when that fellow's arm was broken. But who? If Gelb had finally found someone on the list, she could go away and wait for him to sell her the woman, wait her chance to see if an a'dam truly could hold other sul'dam besides Bethamin. However, she did not mean to face again the choice between slitting some unfortunate woman's throat and sending her off to be sold." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There were plenty of women climbing up the street toward Gelb, most in those transparent veils, their hair braided. Without a second glance Egeanin ruled out two in sedan chairs, with bodyguards marching alongside; Gelb's street toughs would not tangle with near their own number, nor face swords with their fists. Whoever they were after would have no more than two or three men for company if that, and none armed. That seemed to include all the other women in her view, whether in rags of drab country dresses or the more clinging styles Taraboner women favored.\n\nSuddenly two of those women, talking together as they rounded afar bend, seized Egeanin's eye. With their hair in slender braids and transparent veils across their faces, they appeared to be Taraboners, but they were out of place here. Those thin, scandalously draped dresses, one green, the other blue, were silk, not linen or finespun wool. Women clothed like that rode in sedan chairs; they did not walk, especially not here. And they did not carry barrel staves on their shoulders like clubs.\n\nDismissing the one with red-gold hair, she studied the other. Her dark braids were unusually long, nearly to her waist. At this distance, the woman looked very much like a sul'dam named Surine. Not Surine, though. This woman would have come no higher than Surine's chin.\n\nMuttering under her breath, Egeanin jumped down and began pushing through the jostling mass between her and Gelb. With luck she could reach him in time to call him off. The fool. The greedy, weasel-brained fool!\n\n\"We should have hired chairs, Nynaeve,\" Elayne said again, wondering for the hundredth time how Taraboner women talked without catching the veils in their mouths. Spitting it out, she added, \"We are going to have to use these things.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A weedy-faced fellow stopped drifting toward them through the crowd when Nynaeve hefted her barrel stave threateningly. \"That is what they are for.\" Her glare might have encouraged the man's loss of interest. She fumbled at the dark braids hanging over her shoulders and made a disgusted sound; Elayne did not know when she would become used to not having that one thick braid to tug. \"And feet are for walking. How could we look or ask questions being carried around like pigs to sale? I would feel a complete fool in one of those idiot chairs. In any case, I'd rather trust to my own wits than men I do not know.\"\n\nElayne was sure Bayle Domon could have provided trustworthy men. The Sea Folk certainly would have; she wished Wavedancer had not sailed, but the Sailmistress and her sister had been eager to spread word of the Coramoor to Dantora and Cantorin. Twenty bodyguards would have suited her very well.\n\nShe sensed as much as felt something brushing the purse at her belt; clutching at the purse with one hand, she spun around, raising her own stave. The throng flowing by spread a little around her, people barely glancing her way as they elbowed one another, but there was no sign of the would-be cutpurse. At least she could still feel the coins inside: She had taken to wearing her Great Serpent ring and the twisted stone ter'angreal on a cord around her neck in imitation of Nynaeve after the first time she had nearly lost a purse. In their five days in Tanchico she had lost three. Twenty guards would be just about right. And a carriage. With curtains at the windows.\n\nResuming the slow climb up the street beside Nynaeve, she said, \"Then we should not be wearing these dresses. I can remember a time when you stuffed me into a farmgirl's dress.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They make a good disguise,\" Nynaeve replied curtly. \"We blend in.\"\n\nElayne gave a small sniff. As if plainer dresses would not have blended even better. Nynaeve would not admit she had come to enjoy wearing silks and pretty dresses. Elayne simply wished she had not taken it so far. True, everyone took them for Taraboners-until they spoke, at least-but even with a lace-trimmed neck right up under her chin, this close-draped green silk at least felt more revealing than anything she had ever worn before. Certainly anything she had ever worn in public. Nynaeve, on the other hand, strode along the cramped street as if no one was looking at them at all. Well, maybe no one was-not because of how their dresses fit, anyway-but it surely seemed they were.\n\nTheir shifts would have been almost as decent. Cheeks heating, she tried to stop thinking of how the silk molded itself to her. Stop that! It is perfectly decent. It is!\n\n\"Didn't this Amys tell you anything that might help us?\"\n\n\"I told you what she said.\" Elayne sighed. Nynaeve had kept her up until the small hours talking about the Aiel Wise One who had been with Egwene in Tel'aran'rhiod last night, and then started in again before they sat down to breakfast. Egwene, with her hair in two braids for some reason and shooting sullen frowns at the Wise One, had said almost nothing beyond that Rand was well and Aviendha was looking after him. White-haired Amys had done all the talking, astern lecture on the dangers of the World of Dreams that had nearly made Elayne feel as if she were ten again, and Lini, her old nurse, had caught her sneaking out of bed to steal candies, followed by cautions about concentration and controlling what she thought if she must enter Tel'aran'rhiod. How could you control what you thought? \"I truly did think Perrin was with Rand and Mat.\" That had been the biggest surprise, after Amys's appearance. Egwene apparently had thought he was with Nynaeve and her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"He and that girl have probably gone somewhere he can be a blacksmith in peace,\" Nynaeve said, but Elayne shook her head.\n\n\"I do not think so.\" She had strong suspicions about Faile, and if they were even half right, Faile would not settle for being a blacksmith's wife. She spat out the veil once more. Idiotic thing.\n\n\"Well, wherever he is,\" Nynaeve said, fumbling with her braids again, \"I hope he is safe and well, but he is not here, and he cannot help us. Did you even ask Amys if she knew anyway to use Tel'aran'rhiod to-?\"\n\nA bulky, balding man in a worn brown coat shoved through the crowd and tried to throw thick arms around her. She whipped the barrel stave from her shoulder and gave him a crack across his broad face that sent him staggering back, clutching a nose that had surely been broken for at least the second time.\n\nElayne was still gathering breath fora startled scream when a second man, just as big and with a thick mustache, pushed her aside to reach for Nynaeve. She forgot about being afraid. Her jaw tightened furiously, and just as his hands touched the other woman, she brought her own stave down on top of his head with every bit of strength she could muster. The fellow's legs folded, and he toppled on his face in a most satisfactory fashion.\n\nThe crowd scattered back, no one wanting to be caught up in someone else's trouble. Certainly no one offered to help. And they needed it, Elayne realized. The man Nynaeve had hit was still on his feet, mouth twisted in a snarl, licking away the blood that ran down from his nose, flexing thick hands as if he wanted to squeeze a throat. Worse, he was not alone. Seven more men were fanning outwith him to cutoff any escape, all but one as large as he, with scarred faces and hands that looked as if they had been hammered on stone for years. A scrawny, narrow-cheeked fellow, grinning like a nervous fox, kept panting, \"Don't let her getaway. She's gold, I tell you. Gold!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They knew who she was. This was no try fora purse; they meant to dispose of Nynaeve and abduct the Daughter-Heir of Andor. She felt Nynaeve embracing saidar-if this had not made her angry enough to channel, nothing ever would-and opened herself to the True Source as well. The One Power rushed into her, a sweet flood filling her from toes to hair. A few woven flows of Air from either of them could deal with these ruffians.\n\nBut she did not channel, and neither did Nynaeve. Together they could drub these fellows as their mothers should have. Yet they did not dare, unless there was no other choice.\n\nIf one of the Black Ajah was close enough to see, they had already betrayed themselves with the glow of saidar. Channeling enough for those few flows of Air could betray them to a Black sister on another street a hundred paces or more away, depending on her strength and sensitivity. That was most of what they themselves had been doing the last five days, walking through the city trying to sense a woman channeling, hoping the feeling would draw them to Liandrin and the others.\n\nThe crowd itself had to be considered, too. A few people still went by to either side, brushing tight against the walls. The rest milled about, beginning to find other ways to go. Only a handful acknowledged the two women in danger with as much as shamefully averted eyes. But if they saw big men flung about by nothing visible...?\n\nAes Sedai and the One Power itself were not in particularly good odor in Tanchico at the moment, not with old rumors from Falme still floating about and newer tales claiming that the White Tower supported the Dragonsworn in the countryside. Those people might run if they saw the Power wielded. Or they might turn into a mob. Even if she and Nynaeve managed to avoid being torn limb from limb where they stood-which she was not certain they could-there was noway to cover it up after. The Black Ajah would hear of Aes Sedai in Tanchico before the sunset." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Setting herself back-to-back with Nynaeve, Elayne gripped her stave tightly." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She felt like laughing hysterically. If Nynaeve even mentioned going out alone again-walking-she would see who liked having her head dunked in a bucket of water. At least none of these louts looked eager to be the first to have his head cracked like the fellow lying still on the paving stones.\n\n\"Goon,\" the narrow-faced man urged, waving his hands forward. \"Goon! It's only two women!\" He made no move to rush in himself, though. \"Goon, I say. We just need the one. She's gold, I tell you.\"\n\nSuddenly there was aloud thunk, and one of the ruffians staggered to his knees, clutching groggily at a split scalp, and a dark-haired, stern-faced woman in a blue riding dress flung herself past him, twisted sharply to backhand another fellow in the mouth with her fist, knocked his legs out from under him with a staff, then kicked him in the head as he fell.\n\nThat there was help at all was startling, much less the source, but Elayne was of no mind to pick and choose. Nynaeve left her back with a wordless roar, and she dashed outshouting, \"Forward the White Lion!\" to belabor the nearest lout as hard and fast as she could. Flinging his arms up to defend himself, he looked shocked out of his wits. \"Forward the White Lion!\" she shouted again, the battle cry of Andor, and he turned tail and ran.\n\nLaughing in spite of herself, she whirled about seeking another to drub. Only two had not yet fled or fallen. That first broken-nosed fellow turned to run, and Nynaeve gave him a final full-armed thwack across the backside. The stern-faced woman somehow tangled the other's arm and shoulder with her staff, pulling him close and upon his toes at the same time; he would have overtopped her by ahead flat-footed and he weighed twice what she did, but she coolly slammed the heel of her freehand up into his chin three times in rapid succession. His eyes rolled up in his head, but as he sagged, Elayne saw the narrow-faced man picking himself up off the street; his nose dripped blood and his eyes looked half-glazed, yet he pulled a knife from his belt and lunged at the woman's back." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Without thinking, Elayne channeled. A fist of Air hurled the man and his knife into a backflip. The stern-faced woman spun, but he was already scrambling away on all fours until he could get his feet under him and burrow into the crowd farther up the street. People had stopped to watch the odd battle, though none had raised a hand to help except the dark-haired woman. She herself was staring from Elayne to Nynaeve uncertainly. Elayne wondered whether she had noticed the scrawny fellow being knocked down apparently by nothing.\n\n\"I give you my thanks,\" Nynaeve said a touch breathlessly as she approached the woman, straightening her veil. \"I think we should leave here. I know the Civil Watch doesn't come out in the streets much, but I'd not like to explain this if they do happen by. Our inn is not far. Will you join us? A cup of tea is the least we can offer someone who actually lifts a hand to help someone in this Light-forsaken city. My name is Nynaeve al'Meara and this is Elayne Trakand.\"\n\nThe woman hesitated visibly. She had noticed. \"I... I would... like that. Yes. I would.\" She had a slurred way of speaking, difficult to understand, but somehow vaguely familiar. She was quite a lovely woman, really, seeming even fairer than she was because of her dark hair, worn almost to the shoulder. A bit too hard to be called a beauty. Her blue eyes had a strong look, as if she were used to giving orders. A merchant, perhaps, in that dress. \"I am called Egeanin.\"\n\nEgeanin showed no hesitation in leaving with them down the nearest side street. The crowds were already gathering around the fallen men. Elayne expected those fellows would wake to find themselves stripped of anything of value, even clothes and boots. She wished she knew how they had discovered her identity, but there was noway to bring one along to find out. They were definitely going to have bodyguards from now on, no matter what Nynaeve said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Egeanin might not have been hesitant, but she was uneasy. Elayne could see it in her eyes as they wove through the crowd. \"You saw, didn't you?\" she asked. The woman missed a step, all the confirmation Elayne needed, and she added hurriedly, \"We won't harm you. Certainly not after you came to our rescue.\" Again she had to spit out her veil. Nynaeve did not seem to have that problem. \"You needn't frown at me, Nynaeve. She saw what I did.\"\n\n\"I know that,\" Nynaeve said dryly. \"And it was the right thing to do. But we are not snug in your mother's palace tucked away from prying ears.\" Her gesture took in the people around them. Between Egeanin's staff and their staves, most were giving them a wide berth. To Egeanin she said, \"The larger part of any rumors you may have heard are not true. Few of them are. You need not be afraid of us, but you can understand there are matters we do not care to speak of here.\"\n\n\"Afraid of you?\" Egeanin looked startled. \"I had not thought I should be. I will keep silent until you wish to speak.\" She was as good as her word; they walked on in silence through the murmurs of the crowd all the way back down the peninsula to the Three Plum Court. All this walking was making Elayne's feet ache.\n\nA handful of men and women satin the common room despite the early hour, nursing their wine or ale. The woman with her hammered dulcimer was being accompanied by a thin man playing a flute that sounded as reedy as he was. Juilin sat at a table near the door, smoking a short-stemmed pipe. He had not returned from his nightly foray when they left. Elayne was glad to see that for once he did not have anew bruise or cut; what he called the underside of Tanchico seemed even rougher than the face the city presented to the world. His one concession to Tanchican dress had been to replace his flat straw hat with one of those dark conical felt caps, which he wore perched on the back of his head." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I have found them,\" he said, popping up from his bench and snatching off his cap, before he saw they were not alone. He gave Egeanin a hooded look and a small bow; she returned it with an inclination of her head and a look just as guarded.\n\n\"You've found them?\" Nynaeve exclaimed. \"Are you sure? Speak, man. Have you swallowed your tongue?\" And her with her warnings about talking in front of other people.\n\n\"I should have said I found where they were.\" He did not look at Egeanin again, but he chose his words carefully. \"The woman with the white stripe in her hair led me to a house where she was staying with a number of other women, though few were ever seen outside. The locals thought they were rich escapees from the countryside. Little remains now save a few scraps of food in the pantry-even the servants are gone-but from one thing and another I would say they left late yesterday or early last night. I doubt they have any fear of the night in Tanchico.\"\n\nNynaeve had a fistful of her narrow braids in a white-knuckled grip. \"You went inside?\" she said in a very level voice. Elayne thought she was an inch from raising the stave dangling at her side.\n\nJuilin seemed to think so, too. Eyeing the stave, he said, \"You know very well I take no risks with them. An empty house has a look about it, a feel, no matter how big. You cannot chase thieves as long as I have without learning to see as they do.\"\n\n\"And if you had triggered a trap?\" Nynaeve almost hissed the words. \"Does your grand talent for feeling things extend to traps?\" Juilin's dark face went a little gray; he wet his lips as if to explain or defend himself, but she cut him off. \"We will talk of this later, Master Sandar.\" Her eyes shifted slightly toward Egeanin; finally she had remembered there were other ears thereto hear. \"Tell Rendra we will take tea in the Falling Blossoms Room.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Chamber of Falling Blossoms,\" Elayne corrected softly, and Nynaeve shot her a look. Juilin's news had left the older woman in a bad humor.\n\nHe bowed deeply with his hands spread. \"As you command, Mistress al'Meara, so I obey from the heart,\" he said wryly, then stuck his dark cap back on top of his head and stalked off, his back eloquently indignant. It must be uncomfortable to find yourself taking orders from someone with whom you had once tried to flirt.\n\n\"Fool man!\" Nynaeve growled. \"We should have left both of them on the dock in Tear.\"\n\n\"He is your servant?\" Egeanin said slowly.\n\n\"Yes,\" Nynaeve snapped, just as Elayne said, \"No.\"\n\nThey looked at each other, Nynaeve still frowning.\n\n\"Perhaps he is, in away,\" Elayne sighed, right on top of Nynaeve's muttered, \"I suppose he is not, at that.\"\n\n\"I... see,\" Egeanin said.\n\nRendra came bustling between the tables with a smile on her rosebud lips behind her veil. Elayne wished she did not look so much like Liandrin. \"Ah. You are so pretty this morning. Your dresses, they are magnificent. Beautiful.\" As if the honey-haired woman had not had as much to do with choosing the fabric and cut as they. Her own was red enough fora Tinker and definitely not suitable for public. \"But you have been foolish again, yes? That is why the fine Juilin, he wears the large scowl. You should not worry him so.\" A twinkle in her big brown eyes said Juilin had found someone for his flirting. \"Come. You will take your tea in the cool and the privacy, and if you must go out again, you will allow me to provide the bearers and the guards, yes? The pretty Elayne would not have lost so many purses if you were properly guarded. But we will not talk of such things now. Your tea, it is nearly prepared. Come.\" It had to be a learned skill, that was how Elayne saw it; you must have to learn how to talk without eating your veil." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Chamber of Falling Blossoms, located down a short corridor off the common room, was a small, windowless room with a low table and carved chairs with red seat cushions. Nynaeve and Elayne took their meals therewith Thom or Juilin or both, when Nynaeve was not in a taking at them. The plastered brick walls, painted with a veritable grove of plum trees and a namesake shower of flowers were thick enough to preclude any eavesdropping. Elayne practically tore her veil off and tossed the filmy scrap on the table before sitting; even Taraboner women did not try to eat or drink wearing the things. Nynaeve merely unfastened hers from her hair on one side.\n\nRendra kept up her chatter while they were being served, her topics bouncing from anew seamstress who could sew them dresses in the newest style from the thinnest imaginable silk-she suggested Egeanin try the woman, getting a level look for reply; it did not faze her even a trifle-to why they should listen to Juilin since the city was just too dangerous fora woman to go out alone now even in daylight, to a scented soap that would put the finest sheen on their hair. Elayne sometimes wondered how the woman ran such a successful inn when she seemed to think of nothing but her hair and her clothes. That she did was obvious; it was the how that puzzled Elayne. Of course, she did wear pretty clothes; just not entirely suitable. The servant who brought the tea and blue porcelain cups and tiny cakes on a tray was the slender, dark-eyed young man who had kept filling Elayne's winecup on that very embarrassing night. And had tried again more than once, though she had privately vowed never again to drink more than a single cup. A handsome man, but she gave him her coolest stare, so that he hurried from the room gladly." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Egeanin watched quietly until Rendra left, too. \"You are not what I expected,\" she said then, balancing her cup on her fingertips in an odd way. \"The innkeeper babbles of frivolities as if you were her sisters and as foolish as she, and you allow it. The dark man-he is a servant of sorts, I think-mocks you. That serving boy stares with open hunger in his eyes, and you allow it. You are... Aes Sedai, are you not?\" Without waiting for an answer, she shifted her sharp blue eyes to Elayne. \"And you are of the... You are nobly born. Nynaeve spoke of your mother's palace.\"\n\n\"Such things do not count for very much in the White Tower,\" Elayne told her ruefully, hastily brushing cake crumbs from her chin. It was very spicy cake; almost sharp. \"If a queen went thereto learn, she would have to scrub floors like any other novice and jump when she was told.\"\n\nEgeanin nodded slowly. \"So that is how you rule. By ruling the rulers. Do... many... queens go to be trained so?\"\n\n\"None that I know of.\" Elayne laughed. \"Though it is our tradition in Andor for the Daughter-Heir to go. A good many noblewomen go, really, though they usually do not want it known and most leave having failed to even sense the True Source. It was only an example.\"\n\n\"You are also of the... a noble?\" Egeanin asked, and Nynaeve snorted.\n\n\"My mother was a farmwife, and my father herded sheep and farmed tabac. Few where I come from can make do without wool and tabac both to sell. What of your parents, Egeanin?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"My father was a soldier, my mother the... an officer on a ship.\" Fora moment she sipped her unsweetened tea, studying them. \"You are searching for someone,\" she said at last. \"For these women the dark man spoke of. I do some small trade in information, among other things. I have sources who tell me things. Perhaps I can help. I would not charge, except to ask you to tell me more of Aes Sedai.\"\n\n\"You have helped too much already,\" Elayne said hastily, remembering Nynaeve telling almost everything to Bayle Domon. \"I am grateful, but we could not accept more.\" Letting this woman know about the Black Ajah and letting her become involved without knowing were equally out of the question. \"Truly we could not.\"\n\nCaught with her mouth half-open, Nynaeve glared at her. \"I was about to say the same,\" she said in a flat voice, then went on more brightly. \"Our gratitude certainly extends to answering questions, Egeanin. As much as we can.\" She surely meant there were a good many questions for which they had no answers, but Egeanin took it differently.\n\n\"Of course. I will not pry into the secret affairs of your White Tower.\"\n\n\"You seem very interested in Aes Sedai,\" Elayne said. \"I cannot sense the ability in you, but perhaps you can learn to channel.\"\n\nEgeanin almost dropped her porcelain cup. \"It... can be learned? I did not... No. No, I do not want to... to learn.\"\n\nHer agitation made Elayne sad. Even among people not fearful of Aes Sedai, too many still feared anything to do with the One Power. \"What do you want to know, Egeanin?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Before the woman could speak, a rap at the door was followed by Thom, in the rich brown cloak he had taken to wearing when he went out. It certainly attracted less notice than the gleeman's patch-covered garment. In fact, it made him appear quite dignified, with that mane of white hair, though he should brush it more. Imagining him younger, Elayne thought she could see what had first attracted her mother. That did not absolve him of leaving, of course. She smoothed her face before he could see her frown.\n\n\"I was told you were not alone,\" he said, giving Egeanin a guarded look almost identical to Juilin's; men were always suspicious of anyone they did not know. \"But I thought you might like to hear that the Children of the Light surrounded the Panarch's Palace this morning. The streets are beginning to buzz over it. It seems the Lady Amathera is to be invested as Panarch tomorrow.\"\n\n\"Thom,\" Nynaeve said wearily, \"unless this Amathera is really Liandrin, I do not care if she becomes Panarch, King, and Wisdom of the whole Two Rivers all rolled together.\"\n\n\"The interesting thing,\" Thom said, limping to the table, \"is that rumor says the Assembly refused to choose Amathera. Refused. So why is she being invested? Things this odd are worth noting, Nynaeve.\"\n\nAshe started to lower himself into a chair, she said quietly, \"We are having a private conversation, Thom, I am sure you will find the common room more congenial.\" She took a sip of tea, eyeing him over the cup in clear expectation of his departure.\n\nFlushing, he levered himself backup without ever having actually sat, but he did not leave immediately. \"Whether the Assembly has changed its mind or not, this will likely cause riots. The streets still believe Amathera has been rejected. If you must insist ongoing out, you cannot go alone.\" He was looking at Nynaeve, but Elayne had the impression that he almost put a hand on her shoulder. \"Bayle Domon is mired in that little room down near the docks, tying up his affairs in case he has to run, but he has agreed to provide fifty picked men, tough fellows used to a brawl and handy with knife or sword.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Nynaeve opened her mouth, but Elayne cut her off." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We are grateful, Thom, to you and Master Domon both. Please tell him we accept his kind and generous offer.\" Meeting Nynaeve's flat stare, she added meaningfully, \"I would not want to be kidnapped on the streets in broad daylight.\"\n\n\"No,\" Thom said. \"We would not want that.\" Elayne thought she heard a half-said'child\" at the end of that, and this time he did touch her shoulder, a swift brush of fingers. \"Actually,\" he went on, \"the men are already waiting in the street outside. I am trying to find a carriage; those chairs are too vulnerable.\" He seemed to know he had gone too far, bringing Domon's men before they agreed, not to mention this talk of a carriage without a hint of asking first, but he faced them like an old wolf at bay, bushy eyebrows drawn down. \"I would... regret... personally, if anything happened to you. The carriage will be here as soon as I can find a team. If there is one to be found.\"\n\nEyes wide, Nynaeve was obviously teetering on the edge of whether or not to give him an upbraiding he would never forget, and Elayne would not have minded adding a gentler admonishment. Somewhat gentler; child, indeed!\n\nHe took advantage of their hesitation to sweep a bow that would have graced any palace and departed while he had the chance.\n\nEgeanin had set down her cup and was staring at them in consternation. Elayne supposed they had not given a very good appearance of being Aes Sedai, letting Thom bully them. \"I must go,\" the woman said, rising and taking her staff from against the wall.\n\n\"But you have not asked your questions,\" Elayne protested. \"We owe you answers to them, at the very least.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Another time,\" Egeanin said after a moment." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"If it is permitted, I will come another time. I need to learn about you. You are not what I expected.\" They assured her she could come anytime they were there and tried to convince her to stay long enough to finish her tea and cakes, but she was adamant that she had to leave now.\n\nTurning from seeing the woman to the door, Nynaeve put her fists on her hips: \"Kidnap you? If you have forgotten, Elayne, it was me those men tried to grab!\"\n\n\"To take you out of the way so they could seize me,\" Elayne said. \"If you have forgotten, I am the Daughter-Heir of Andor. My mother would have made them wealthy to have me back.\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" Nynaeve muttered doubtfully. \"Well, at least they were nothing to do with Liandrin. That lot wouldn't send a pack of louts to try stuffing us in a sack. Why do men always do things without asking? Does growing hair on their chests sap their brains?\"\n\nThe sudden change did not confuse Elayne. \"We do not have to worry about finding bodyguards, at any rate. You do agree they are necessary, even if Thom did overstep himself?\"\n\n\"I suppose so.\" Nynaeve had a remarkable dislike for admitting she was wrong. Thinking those men had been after her, for instance. \"Elayne, do you realize we still have nothing except an empty house? If Juilin-or Thom-slips and lets himself be found out... We must find the Black sisters without them suspecting, or we will never have a chance of following them to whatever this thing is that's dangerous to Rand.\"\n\n\"I know,\" Elayne said patiently. \"We have discussed it.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The older woman frowned at nothing. \"We still have not a glimmer as to what it is, or where.\"\n\n\"I know.\"\n\n\"Even if we could bag Liandrin and the rest right this minute, we cannot leave it floating about out there, waiting for someone else to find.\"\n\n\"I know that, Nynaeve.\" Reminding herself to be patient, Elayne softened her tone. \"We will find them. They must make some sort of slip, and between Thom's rumors, and Juilin's thieves, and Bayle Domon's sailors, we will learn of it.\"\n\nNynaeve's frown became thoughtful. \"Did you notice Egeanin's eyes when Thom mentioned Domon?\"\n\n\"No. Do you think she knows him? Why would she not say so?\"\n\n\"I do not know,\" Nynaeve said vexedly. \"Her face did not change, but her eyes... She was startled. She knows him. I wonder what-\" Someone tapped softly on the door. \"Is everyone in Tanchico going to march in onus?\" she growled, jerking it open.\n\nRendra gave a start at the look on Nynaeve's face, but her ever-present smile returned immediately. \"Forgive me for disturbing you, but there is the woman below who asks for you. Not by name, but she describes you as you stand. She says that she believes she knows you. She is...\" That rosebud mouth tightened in a slight grimace. \"I forgot to ask her name. This morning I am the witless goat. She is a well-dressed woman, not yet to her middle years. Not of Tarabon.\" She gave a little shiver. \"Astern woman, I think. When first she saw me, she looked at meas my older sister did when we were children and she was thinking of tying my braids to the bush.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Or have they found us first?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nynaeve said softly.\n\nElayne embraced the True Source before she thought of it, and felt a shudder of relief that she could, that she had not been shielded unaware. If the woman below was Black Ajah... But if she was, why announce herself? Even so, she wished the glow of saidar surrounded Nynaeve, too. If only the woman could channel without anger.\n\n\"Send her in,\" Nynaeve said, and Elayne realized she was very much aware of her lack, and afraid. As Rendra turned to go, Elayne began weaving flows of Air, thick as cables and ready to bind, flows of Spirit to shield another from the Source. If this woman so much as resembled one on their list, if she tried to channel a spark...\n\nThe woman who stepped into the Chamber of Falling Blossoms, in a shimmering black silk gown of unfamiliar cut, was no one Elayne had ever seen before, and surely not on the list of the women who had gone with Liandrin. Dark hair spilling loose to her shoulders framed a sturdily handsome face with large, dark eyes and smooth cheeks, but not with Aes Sedai agelessness. Smiling, she closed the door behind her. \"Forgive me, but I thought you were-\" The glow of saidar surrounded her, and she...\n\nElayne released the True Source. There was something very commanding in those dark eyes, in the halo around her, the pale radiance of the One Power. She was the most regal woman Elayne had ever seen. Elayne found herself hurriedly curtsying, flushing that she had considered... What had she considered? So hard to think.\n\nThe woman studied them fora moment, then gave a satisfied nod and swept to the table, taking the carved chair at its head. \"Come here where I can see you both more closely,\" she said in a peremptory voice. \"Come. Yes. That's it.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elayne realized she was standing beside the table, looking down at the dark-eyed, glowing woman. She did hope that was all right. On the other side of the table Nynaeve had a tangle of her long, thin braids gripped in her fist, but she stared at the visitor with a foolishly rapt expression. It made Elayne want to giggle.\n\n\"About what I have come to expect,\" the woman said. \"Little more than girls, and obviously not close to half-trained. Strong, though; strong enough to be more than troublesome. Especially you.\" She fixed Nynaeve with her eyes. \"You might become something one day. But you've blocked yourself, haven't you? We would have had that out of you though you howled for it.\"\n\nNynaeve still had that tight hold on her braids, but her face went from a pleased, girlish smile at praise to shamed lip-trembling. \"I am sorry I blocked myself,\" she almost whimpered. \"I'm afraid of it. . all that power... the One Power... how can I-?\"\n\n\"Be silent unless I ask a question,\" the woman said firmly. \"And do not start crying. You are joyful at seeing me, ecstatic. All you want is to please me and answer my questions truthfully.\"\n\nNynaeve nodded vigorously, smiling even more rapturously than before. Elayne realized that she was, too. She was sure she could answer the questions first. Anything to please this woman.\n\n\"Now. Are you alone? Are there any other Aes Sedai with you?\"\n\n\"No,\" Elayne said quickly in answer to the first question, and just as fast, to the second, \"There are no Aes Sedai with us.\" Perhaps she should tell that they were not really Aes Sedai either. But she had not been asked that. Nynaeve glared at her, knuckles white on her braids, furious at being beaten to the answer." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Why are you in this city?\" the woman said.\n\n\"We are hunting Black sisters,\" Nynaeve burst out, shooting Elayne a triumphant look.\n\nThe handsome woman laughed. \"So that is why I have not felt you channel before today. Wise of you to keep low when it is eleven to two. I have always followed that policy myself. Let other fools leap about in full view. They can be brought low by a spider hiding in the cracks, a spider they never see until it is too late. Tell me all you have discovered about these Black sisters, all you know of them.\"\n\nElayne spilled out everything, battling with Nynaeve to be first. It was not very much. Their descriptions, the ter'angreal they had stolen, the murders in the Tower and the fear of more Black sisters still there, aiding one of the Forsaken in Tear before the Stone fell, their flight here seeking something dangerous to Rand. \"They were all staying in a house together,\" Elayne finished up, panting, \"but they left last night.\"\n\n\"It seems you came very close,\" the woman said slowly. \"Very close. Ter'angreal. Turnout your purses on the table, your pouches.\" They did, and she fingered quickly through coins and sewing kits and handkerchiefs and the like. \"Do you have any ter'angreal in your rooms? Angreal or sa'angreal?\"\n\nElayne was conscious of the twisted stone ring hanging between her breasts, but that was not the question. \"No,\" she said. They had none of those things in their room.\n\nPushing everything away, the woman leaned back, speaking half to herself. \"Rand al'Thor. So that is his name now.\" Her face crumpled in a momentary grimace. \"An arrogant man who stank of piety and goodness. Is he still the same? No, do not bother to answer that. An idle question. So Be'lal is dead. The other sounds like Ishamael, tome. All his pride at being only half-caught, whatever the price-there was less human left in him than any of us when I saw him again; I think he half-believed he was the Great Lord of the Dark-all his three thousand years of machinations, and it comes to an untaught boy hunting him down. My way is best. Softly, softly, in the shadows. Something to control a man who can channel. Yes, it would have to be that.\" Her eyes turned sharp, studying them in turn. \"Now. What to do with you.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elayne waited patiently. Nynaeve wore a silly smile, her lips parted expectantly; it looked especially foolish with the way she was gripping her braids.\n\n\"You are too strong to waste; you maybe useful one day. I would love to see Rahvin's eyes the day he meets you unblocked,\" she told Nynaeve. \"I would put you off this hunt of yours, if I could. A pity compulsion is so limited. Still, with the little you have learned, you are too far behind to catch up now. I suppose I must collect you later and see to your... retraining.\" She stood, and suddenly Elayne's entire body tingled. Her brain seemed to shiver; she was conscious of nothing but the woman's voice, roaring in her ears from a great distance. \"You will pickup your things from the table, and when you have replaced them where they belong, you will remember nothing of what happened here except that I came thinking you were friends I knew from the country. I was mistaken, I had a cup of tea, and I left.\"\n\nElayne blinked and wondered why she was tying her purse back beside her belt pouch. Nynaeve was frowning at her own hands, adjusting her pouch.\n\n\"A nice woman,\" Elayne said, rubbing her forehead. She had a headache coming on. \"Did she give her name? I don't remember.\"\n\n\"Nice?\" Nynaeve's hand came up and gave a sharp tug to her braids; she stared as if it had moved of its own accord. \"I... do not think she did.\"\n\n\"What were we talking of when she came in?\" Egeanin had just gone. What had it been?\n\n\"I remember what I was about to say.\" Nynaeve's voice firmed. \"We must find the Black sisters without them suspecting, or we will never have a chance of following them to whatever this thing is that's dangerous to Rand.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I know,\" Elayne said patiently. Had she said that already? Of course not. \"We have discussed it.-\"\n\nAt the arched gates leading from the inn's small courtyard, Egeanin paused, studying the hard-faced men who lounged, barefoot and often bare-chested, among the idlers on this side of the narrow street. They looked as if they could use the curved boarding swords hanging at their belts or thrust through their sashes, but none of those faces looked familiar. If any of them had been on Bayle Demon's ship when she took him and it to Falme, she did not remember. If any had been, it was to be hoped none connected a woman in a riding dress to the woman in armor who had captured their vessel.\n\nSuddenly she realized her palms were damp. Aes Sedai. Women who could wield the Power, and not decently leashed. She had sat at the same table with them, talked with them. They were not at all what she had expected; she could not dig that thought out of her head. They could channel, therefore they were dangerous to proper order, therefore they must be safely leashed-and yet... Not at all what she had been taught. It could be learned. Learned! As long as she could avoid Bayle Domon-he would surely recognize her-she should be able to return. She had to learn more. More than ever, she had to.\n\nWishing she had a hooded cloak, she took a firm grip on her staff and started up the street, threading her way into the passing throng. None of the sailors looked at her twice, and she watched them to be sure.\n\nShe did not seethe pale-haired man in filthy Tanchican garb huddled against the front of a white-plastered wineshop on the other side of the street. His eyes, blue above a dingy veil and a thick mustache held in place with glue, followed her before sliding back to the Three Plum Court. Standing, he crossed the street, ignoring the disgusting way people brushed against him. Egeanin had nearly spotted him when he had forgotten himself enough to break that fool's arm. One of the Blood, as such things were reckoned in these lands, reduced to begging and without enough honor to open his veins. Disgusting. Perhaps he could learn more of what she was up to, in this inn, once they realized he had more coin than his clothes suggested." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The papers scattered on Siuan Sanche's desk held little real interest for her, but she persevered. Others handled the day-to-day routine of the White Tower, of course, to leave the Amyrlin Seat free for important decisions, but her habit had always been to check one or two things at random each day, with no notice beforehand, and she would not break it now. She would not let herself be distracted by worries. Everything wassailing along according to plan. Shifting her striped stole, she dipped her pen carefully in the ink and ticked off another corrected total.\n\nToday she was examining lists of kitchen purchases, and the mason's report on an addition to the library. The sheer number of petty peculations people thought they could slip by always amazed her. So did the number that escaped notice by the women who oversaw these matters. For instance, Laras seemed to think watching accounts was beneath her since her title had been changed officially from simple chief cook to Mistress of the Kitchens. Danelle, on the other hand, the young Brown sister who was supposed to be watching Master Jovarin, the mason, was most likely letting herself be distracted by the books the fellow kept finding for her. That was the only way to explain her failure to question the number of workmen Jovarin claimed to have hired, with the first shipments of stone from Kandor just arriving at North harbor. He could rebuild the entire library with that many men. Danelle was simply too dreamy, even fora Brown. Perhaps a little time on a farm working penance would wake her. Laras would be more difficult to discipline; she was not Aes Sedai, so her authority with undercooks and scullions and potboys could be swamped all too easily. But perhaps she, too, could be sent fora'rest\" in the country. That would..." }, { "from": "human", "value": "With a snort of disgust Siuan threw her pen down, grimacing at the blot it made on a page of neatly totaled columns." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Wasting my time deciding whether to send Laras out to pull weeds,\" she muttered. \"The woman is too fat to bend over far enough!\"\n\nIt was not Laras's weight that had her temper jumping, and she knew it; the woman was no heavier now than she had always been, or so it seemed, and it never interfered with her running the kitchens. There was no news. That was what had her flapping like a fisher-bird whose catch had been stolen. One message from Moiraine that the al'Thor boy had Callandor, then nothing in the weeks since, although rumors in the streets were already beginning to get his name right. Still nothing.\n\nLifting the hinged lid of the ornately carved blackwood box where she kept her most secret papers, she rummaged inside. A small warding woven around the box ensured no hand but hers could safely open it.\n\nThe first paper she pulled out was a report that the novice who had seen Min's arrival had vanished from the farm she had been sent to, and the woman who owned the farm, too. Hardly unheard of fora novice to ran away, but the farmer leaving too was troublesome. Sahra would have to be found, certainly-she had not progressed far enough in her training to be let loose-but there was no real reason to keep the report in the box. It mentioned neither Min's name nor the reason the girl had been sent to hoe cabbages, but she put it back anyway. These were days to take care that might seem unreasonable at another time.\n\nA description of a gathering in Ghealdan to listen to this man who called himself the Prophet of the Lord Dragon. Masema, it seemed his name was. Odd. That was a Shienaran name. Nearly ten thousand people had come to listen to him speak from a hillside, proclaiming the return of the Dragon, a speech followed by a battle with soldiers trying to disperse them. Aside from the fact that the soldiers apparently got the worst of it, the interesting thing was that this Masema knew Rand al'Thor's name. That definitely went back into the box." }, { "from": "human", "value": "A report that nothing had yet been found of Mazrim Taim." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "No reason for that to be in there. Another on worsening conditions in Arad Doman and Tarabon. Ships vanishing along the Aryth Ocean coast. Rumors of Tairen incursions into Cairhien. She was getting into the habit of putting everything in this box; none of that needed to be kept secret. Two sisters had vanished from Illian, and another in Caemlyn. She shivered, wondering where the Forsaken were. Too many of her agents had gone silent. There were lionfish out there, and she was swimming in darkness. There it was. The silk-thin slip of paper crackled as she unrolled it.\n\nThe sling has been used. The shepherd holds the sword.\n\nThe Hall of the Tower had voted as she had expected, unanimously and with no need for arm-twisting, much less invoking her authority. If a man had drawn Callandor, he must be the Dragon Reborn, and that man had to be guided by the White Tower. Three Sitters for three different Ajahs had proposed holding all plans close in the Hall before she even suggested it; the surprise had been that one was Elaida, but then the Reds would surely want the tightest hawsers possible kept on a man who could channel. The sole problem had been to stop a delegation from being sent to Tear to take him in hand, and that had not really been difficult, not when she was able to say that her news came from an Aes Sedai who had already managed to put herself close to the man.\n\nBut what was he doing now? Why had Moiraine not sent further word? Impatience hung so thick in the Hall now that she almost expected the air to sparkle. She kept a tight hold oh her anger. Burn the woman! Why hasn't she sent word?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The door crashed open, and she straightened furiously as more than a dozen women strode into her study, led by Elaida. All wore their shawls, most red-fringed, but cool-faced Alviarin, a White, was at Elaida's side, and Joline Maza, a slender Green, and plump Shemerin of the Yellow came close behind with Danelle, her big blue eyes not dreamy at all. In fact, at least one woman from every Ajah except the Blue. Some looked nervous, but most wore grim determination, and Elaida's dark eyes held stern confidence, even triumph.\n\n\"What is the meaning of this?\" Siuan snapped, slapping the blackwood box shut with a sharp crack. She bounced to her feet and strode around the desk. First Moiraine and now this! \"If this is about Tairen matters, Elaida, you know better than to bring others into it. And you know better than to walk inhere as if this were your mother's kitchen! Make your apologies and leave before I make you wish you were an ignorant novice again!\"\n\nHer cold rage should have sent them scurrying, but though a few shifted uneasily, none made a move toward the door. Little Danelle actually smirked at her. And Elaida calmly reached out and pulled the striped stole from Siuan's shoulders. \"You will not need this any longer,\" she said. \"You were never fit for it, Siuan.\"\n\nShock turned Siuan's tongue to stone. This was madness. This was impossible. Ina rage she reached for saidar-and suffered her second shock. A barrier lay between her and the True Source, like a wall of thick glass. She stared at Elaida in disbelief.\n\nAs if to mock her, the radiance of saidar sprang up around Elaida. She stood helpless as the Red sister wove flows of Air around her from shoulders to waist, crushing her arms to her side. She could barely breathe. \"You must be mad!\" she rasped. \"All of you! I'll have your hides for this! Release me!\" No one answered; they almost seemed to ignore her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Alviarin ruffled through the papers on the table, quickly yet unhurriedly. Joline and Danelle and others began tilting up the books on the reading stands, shaking them to see if anything fell out from between the pages. The White sister gave a small hiss of vexation at not finding what she sought on the table, then flipped open the lid of the blackwood box. Instantly the box flared in a ball of flame.\n\nAlviarin leaped back with a cry, shaking a hand where blisters were already forming. \"Warded,\" she muttered, as close to open anger as a White ever came. \"So small that I never felt it until too late.\" Nothing remained of the box and its contents but a heap of gray ash atop a square charred into the tabletop.\n\nElaida's face showed no disappointment. \"I promise you, Siuan, that you will tell me every word that burned, who it was meant for, and to what purpose.\"\n\n\"You must betaken by the Dragon!\" Siuan snapped. \"I will have your hide for this, Elaida. All of your hides! You will be lucky if the Hall of the Tower doesn't vote to still all of you!\"\n\nElaida's tiny smile did not touch her eyes, \"The Hall convened not an hour ago-enough Sisters to meet our laws-and by unanimous vote, as required, you are no longer Amyrlin. It is done, and we are hereto see it enforced.\"\n\nSiuan's stomach turned to ice, and a small voice in the back of her head shrieked, What do they know? Light, how much do they know? Fool! Blind, fool woman! She kept her face smooth, though. This was not the first hard corner she had ever been in. A fifteen-year-old girl with nothing but her bait knife, hauled into an alley by four hard-eyed louts with their bellies full of cheap wine-that had been harder to escape than this. So she told herself." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Enough to meet the laws?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "she sneered. \"A bare minimum, heavy with your friends and those you can influence or bully.\" That Elaida had been able to convince even a relatively small number of Sitters was enough to dry her throat, but she would not let it show. \"When the full Hall meets, with all the Sitters, you'll learn your mistake. Too late! There has never been a rebellion inside the Tower; a thousand years from now they'll be using your fate to teach novices what happens to rebels.\" Tendrils of doubt crept onto some of those faces; it seemed Elaida did not have as tight a grip on her conspirators as she thought. \"It's time to stop trying to hack a hole in the hull, and start bailing. Even you can still mitigate your offense, Elaida.\"\n\nElaida waited with chill calm until she was done. Then her full-armed slap exploded across Siuan's face; she staggered, silver-black flecks dancing in her vision.\n\n\"You are finished,\" Elaida said. \"Did you think I-we-would allow you to destroy the Tower? Bring her!\"\n\nSiuan stumbled as two of the Reds pushed her forward. Barely keeping her feet, she glared at them, but went as they directed. Who did she need to get word to? Whatever charges had been brought, she could counter them, given time. Even charges involving Rand; they could not fasten more than rumors to her, and she had played the Great Game too long to be beaten by rumors. Unless they had Min; Min could clothe rumors in truth. She ground her teeth. Burn my soul, I'll use this lot for fish bait!\n\nIn the antechamber, she stumbled again, but not from pushing, this time. She had half-hoped that Leane had been away from her post, but the Keeper stood as Siuan did, arms stiffly at her sides, mouth working soundlessly, furiously, around a gag of Air. She had certainly sensed Leane being bound and never realized it; in the Tower, there was always the feel of women channeling." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Yet it was not the sight of Leane that made her miss her step, but the tall, slender gray-haired man stretched on the floor with a knife rising from his back. Alric had been her Warder for close to twenty years, never complaining when her path kept them in the Tower, never muttering when being the Amyrlin's Warder sent him hundreds of leagues from her, a thing none of the Gaidin liked.\n\nShe cleared her throat, but her voice was still husky when she spoke. \"I'll have your hide salted and stretched in the sun for this, Elaida. I swear it!\"\n\n\"Consider your own hide, Siuan,\" Elaida said, moving closer to stare her in the eyes. \"There is more to this than has been revealed so far. I know it. And you are going to tell me every last scrap of it. Every-last-scrap.\" The sudden quiet of her voice was more frightening than all her hard stares had been. \"I promise it, Siuan. Take her below!\"\n\nClutching bolts of blue silk, Min strolled in through the North Gate near midday, her simper all ready for the guards with the Flame of Tar Valon on their chests, the girlish swirl of her green skirts that Elmindreda would give. She had actually begun before she realized there were no guards. The heavy iron-strapped door of the star-shaped guardhouse stood open; the guardhouse itself looked empty. It was impossible. No gate to the Tower grounds was ever unguarded. Halfway to the huge bone-white shaft of the Tower itself, a plume of smoke was rising above the trees. It seemed to be near the quarters for the young men who studied under the Warders. Maybe the fire had pulled the guards away." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Still feeling a little uneasy, she started down the unpaved path through the wooded part of the grounds, shifting the bolts of silk." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She did not really want another dress, but how could she refuse when Laras pressed a purse of silver into her hands and told her to use it for this silk the stout woman had seen; she claimed it was just the color to set off'Elmindreda's\" complexion. Whether or not she wanted her complexion set off was less important than keeping Laras's goodwill.\n\nA rattle of swords reached her ears through the trees. The Warders must have their students practicing harder than usual.\n\nIt was all very irritating. Laras and her beauty hints, Gawyn and his jokes, Galad paying her compliments and never realizing what his face and smile did to a woman's pulse. Was this how Rand wanted her? Would he actually see her, if she wore dresses and simpered at him like a brainless chit?\n\nHe has no right to expect it, she thought furiously. It was all his fault. She would not be there now, wearing a fool dress and smiling like an idiot, if not for him. I wear coat and breeches, and that is that! Maybe I'll wear a dress once in awhile-maybe!-but not to make some man look at me! I wager he's staring at some Tairen woman with half her bosom exposed right this minute. I can wear a dress like that. Let's see what he thinks when he sees me in this blue silk. I'll have a neckline down to-What was she thinking? The man had robbed her of her wits! The Amyrlin Seat was keeping her here, useless, and Rand al'Thor was addling her brain! Burn him! Burn him for doing this tome!\n\nThe clash of swords came again from the distance, and she stopped as a horde of young men burst out of the trees ahead of her carrying spears and bared blades, Gawyn at their head. She recognized others from among those who had come to study with the Warders. Shouts rose somewhere else in the grounds, a roar of angry men." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Gawyn! What is happening?\"\n\nHe whirled at the sound of her voice. Worry and fear filled his blue eyes, and his face was a mask of determination not to give into them. \"Min. What are you doing? Get out of the grounds, Min. It is dangerous.\" A handful of the young men ran on, but most waited impatiently for him. It seemed to her that most of the Warders' students were there.\n\n\"Tell me what's happening, Gawyn!\"\n\n\"The Amyrlin was deposed this morning. Leave, Min!\"\n\nThe bolts of silk fell from her hands. \"Deposed? It can't be! How? Why? In the name of the Light, why?\"\n\n\"Gawyn!\" one of the young men called, and others took it up, brandishing their weapons. \"Gawyn! The White Boar! Gawyn!\"\n\n\"I have no time,\" he told her urgently. \"There's fighting everywhere. They say Hammar is trying to break Siuan Sanche free. I have to go to the Tower, Min. Leave! Please!\"\n\nHe turned and set out at a run toward the Tower. The others followed, bristling with upraised weapons, some still shouting, \"Gawyn! The White Boar! Gawyn! Forward the Younglings!\"\n\nMin stared after them. \"You did not say what side you are on, Gawyn,\" she whispered.\n\nThe sounds of fighting were louder, clearer now that she was paying attention, and the shouts and yells, the clash of steel on steel, seemed to come from every direction. The clamor made her skin crawl and her knees shake; this could not be happening, not here. Gawyn was right. It would be much the safer thing, much the smarter, to leave the Tower grounds immediately. Only there was no telling when or if she would be allowed back, and she could not think of much good she could do outside." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"What good can I do inside?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "she asked herself fiercely.\n\nBut she did not turn back toward the gate. Leaving the silk where it lay, she hurried into the trees, looking fora place to hide. She did not think anyone would spit'Elmindreda\" like a goose-shivering, she wished she had not thought of it that way-but there was no use in taking foolish chances. Sooner or later the fighting had to die down, and by that time she needed to decide what to do next.\n\nIn the pitch blackness of the cell, Siuan opened her eyes, stirred, winced, and was still. Was it morning yet outside? The questioning had gone on fora longtime. She tried to forget pain in the luxury of knowing she was still breathing. The rough stone beneath her scraped her welts and bruises, though, those on her back. Sweat stung all of them-she felt a solid mass of pain from knees to shoulders-and made her shiver in the cold air, besides. They could have left me my shift, at least. The air smelled of old dust and dried mold, of age. One of the deep cells. No one had been confined down here since Artur Hawkwing's time. Not since Bonwhin.\n\nShe grimaced into the dark; there was no forgetting. Clamping her teeth, she pushed up to a sitting position on the stone floor and felt around her fora wall to lean against. The stone blocks of the wall were cool against her back. Small things, she told herself. Think of small things. Heat. Cold. I wonder when they'll bring me some water. If they will.\n\nShe could not help feeling for her Great Serpent ring. It was no longer on her finger. Not that she expected it; she thought she remembered when they had ripped it off. Things had grown hazy after a time. Thankfully, blessedly hazy. But she remembered telling them everything, eventually. Almost everything. The triumph of holding back a scrap here, a bit there. In between howling answers, eager to answer if only they would stop, even fora little while, if only... She wrapped her arms around herself to stop her shudders; it did notwork very well. I will remain calm. I am not dead. I must remember that above everything else. I am not dead." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Keep the narrative going for the author.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, prophecy\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: The Shadow Rising\nChapter: 49" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Another time,\" Natael said, speaking to Rand but looking at the women in that peculiar sidelong manner. \"We will talk another time.\" With the slightest of bows he strode away.\n\n\"Does the future chafe you, Rand?\" Moiraine said quietly when the gleeman was gone. \"Prophecies speak in flowery, hidden language. They do not always mean what they seem to say.\"\n\n\"The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills,\" he told her. \"I will do what I must. Remember that, Moiraine. I will do what I must.\" She seemed satisfied; with Aes Sedai, it was hard to tell. She would not be satisfied when she learned everything.\n\nNatael returned the next evening, and the next, and the next, always talking about the epic he would compose, but he displayed a morbid streak, digging for how Rand meant to face madness and death. His tale was meant to be a tragedy, it appeared. Rand certainly had no desire to root his fears out into the open; what was in his heart and head could remain buried there. Finally the gleeman seemed to tire of hearing him say'I will do what I must,\" and stopped coming. It seemed that he did not want to compose his epic unless it could be full of pained emotion. The man looked frustrated when he stalked off for the last time, cloak fluttering furiously behind him.\n\nThe fellow was odd, but going by Thom Merrilin, so were all gleemen. Natael certainly demonstrated other gleeman's traits. For instance, he certainly had a fine opinion of himself. Rand did not care whether the man called him by titles, but Natael addressed Rhuarc, and Moiraine, the few times he was around her, as if he was plainly their equal. That was Thom to perfection. And he gave up performing for the Jindo at all, beginning to spend most of every night at the Shaido camp. There were more of the Shaido, he explained to Rhuarc as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. A larger audience. None of the Jindo liked it, but there was nothing even Rhuarc could do. In the Three-fold Land, a gleeman was allowed anything short of murder without being called down for it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Aviendha spent her nights among the Wise Ones, and sometimes walked with them for an hour or so during the day, all of them gathered around her, even Moiraine and Egwene. At first Rand thought they must be advising heron how to handle him, how to pull what they wanted to know out of his head. Then one day, with the sun molten overhead, a ball of fire as big as a horse suddenly burst into being ahead of the Wise Ones' party and went spinning and tumbling away, blazing a furrow across the sere land, until it finally dwindled and winked out.\n\nSome of the wagon drivers pulled their startled, snorting teams to a halt and stood to watch, calling to each other in a blend of fear, confusion and coarse curses. Murmurs rippled through the Jindo, and they stared, as did the Shaido, but the two columns of Aiel kept moving with barely a pause. It was among the Wise Ones that real excitement was evident. The four of them clustered around Aviendha, all apparently talking at once, with considerable arm-waving. Moiraine and Egwene, leading their horses, tried to get in a word; even without hearing, Rand knew that Amys told them in no uncertain terms, shaking a furiously admonishing finger, to stay out of it.\n\nStaring at the blackened gouge stretching arrow-straight for half a mile, Rand sat back down in his saddle. Teaching Aviendha to channel. Of course. That was what they were doing. He scrubbed sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand; the sun had nothing to do with it. When that fireball leaped out into existence, he had instinctively reached for the True Source. It had been like trying to dip water with a torn sieve. All his clawing at saidin might as well have been clawing at air. One day that could happen when he needed the Power desperately. He had to learn, too, and he had no teacher. He had to learn not just because the Power would kill him before he had to worry about going mad if he did not; he had to learn because he had to use it. Learn to use it; use it to learn. He began laughing so hard that some of the Jindo looked at him uneasily." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He would have enjoyed Mat's company anytime during those eleven days and nights, but Mat never came near for more than a minute or two, the broad brim of his flat-crowned hat pulled down to shade his eyes, the black-hafted spear lying across the pommel of Pips's saddle, with its odd raven-marked, Power-wrought point, like a short, curving sword blade.\n\n\"If your face darkens from the sun anymore, you will turn into an Aielman,\" he might say, laughing or, \"Do you mean to spend the rest of your life here? There's a whole world the other side of the Dragonwall. Wine? Women? You remember these things?\"\n\nBut Mat looked plainly uneasy, and he was even more reluctant than the Wise Ones to speak of Rhuidean, or what had happened to them there. His hand tightened on that black haft at the very mention of the fog-domed city, and he claimed not to remember anything of his journey through the ter'angreal-then proceeded to contradict himself by saying, \"You stay out of that thing, Rand. It isn't like the one in the Stone at all. They cheat. Burn me, I wish I'd never seen it!\"\n\nThe onetime Rand mentioned the Old Tongue, he snapped, \"Burn you, I don't know anything about the bloody Old Tongue!\" and galloped straight back to the peddlers\" wagons.\n\nThat was where Mat spent most of his time, dicing with the drivers-until they realized he won a very great deal more often than he lost, no matter whose dice he used-engaging Kadere or Natael in long talks at every opportunity, pursuing Isendre. It was clear what was on his mind from the first time he grinned at her and straightened his hat, the morning after the Trolloc attack. He spoke to her nearly every evening for as long as he could, and pricked himself so badly plucking white blossoms from a spiky-thorned bush that he could barely handle his reins for two days, though he refused to allow Moiraine to Heal him. Isendre did not precisely encourage him, but her slow, sultry smile was hardly calculated to drive him away, either. Kadere saw-and said not a word, though sometimes his eyes followed Mat like a vulture's. Others did comment." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Late one afternoon as the mules were being unhitched and the tents going up, and Rand was unsaddling Jeade'en, Mat was standing with Isendre in the meager shade of one of the canvas-topped wagons." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Standing very close. Shaking his head, Rand watched as he wiped the dapple down. The sunburned low on the horizon, and tall spires stretched long shadows across the camp.\n\nIsendre fiddled with her diaphanous scarf as if idly thinking of removing it, smiling, full lips half pouting, ready fora kiss. Encouraged, Mat grinned confidently and moved closer still. She dropped her hand, and slowly shook her head, but that inviting smile never faded. Neither of them heard Keille approach, so light on her feet despite her size.\n\n\"Is that what you want, good sir? Her?\" The pair jumped apart at the sound of her mellifluous voice, and she laughed just as musically, just as oddly out of that face. \"A bargain for you, Matrim Cauthon. A Tar Valon mark, and she is yours. A chit like that cannot be worth more than two, so it is a clear bargain.\"\n\nMat grimaced, looking as though he wished he were anywhere else but there.\n\nIsendre, however, turned slowly to face Keille, a mountain cat facing a bear. \"You go too far, old woman,\" she said softly, eyes hard above the veiling scarf. \"I will put up with your tongue no longer. Have a care. Or perhaps you would like to remain herein the Waste.\"\n\nKeille smiled broadly, yet mirth never touched the obsidian eyes glittering behind her fat cheeks. \"Would you?\"\n\nNodding decisively, Isendre said, \"A Tar Valon mark.\" Her voice was iron. \"I will see you have a Tar Valon mark when we leave you. I only wish I could see you trying to drink it.\" Turning her back, she strode to the lead wagon, not swaying seductively at all, and vanished inside." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Keille watched, round face unreadable, until the white door closed, then suddenly rounded on Mat, who was on the point of slipping away." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Few men have ever refused an offer from me once, much less twice. You should have a care I do not take it in mind to do something about it.\" Laughing, she reached up and pinched his cheek with thick fingers, hard enough to make him wince, then turned in Rand's direction. \"Tell him, my Lord Dragon. I have a feeling you know something of the dangers of scorning a woman. That Aiel girl who follows you about, glaring. I hear you belong to another. Perhaps she feels scorned.\"\n\n\"I doubt it, Mistress,\" he said dryly. \"Aviendha would plant a knife in my ribs if she believed I had thought of her that way.\"\n\nThe immense woman laughed uproariously. Mat flinched as she reached for him again, but all she did was pat the cheek she had pinched before. \"You see, good sir? Scorn a woman's offer, and perhaps she thinks nothing of it, but perhaps\"-she made a skewering motion-\"the knife. A lesson any man can learn. Eh, my Lord Dragon?\" Wheezing with laughter, she hurried off to check on the men tending the mules.\n\nRubbing his cheek, Mat muttered, \"They're all crazy,\" before he, too, left. He did not abandon his pursuit of Isendre, though.\n\nSo it went, for eleven days and into the twelfth, across a barren, hard-baked land. Twice they saw other stands, small, rough stone buildings much like Imre Stand, sited for easy defense against the sheer side of spire or butte. One had three hundred sheep or more, and men who were as startled to learn of Rand as they were of Trollocs in the Three-fold Land. The other was empty; not raided, only not in use. Several times Rand spotted goats, or sheep, or pale, long-horned cattle in the distance. Aviendha said the herds belonged to nearby sept holds, but he saw no people, surely no structure that deserved the name hold." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The twelfth day, with the thick columns of Jindo and Shaido flanking the Wise Ones'party, and the peddlers\" wagons lurching along with Keille and Natael arguing, and Isendre eyeing Rand from Kadere's lap.\n\n\"... and that is how it is,\" Aviendha said, nodding to herself. \"Surely you must understand about a roofmistress, now.\"\n\n\"Not really,\" Rand admitted. He realized that for sometime he had just been listening to the sound of her voice, not to the words. \"I'm sure it works just fine, though.\"\n\nShe growled at him. \"When you marry,\" she said in a tight voice, \"with the Dragons on your arms proving your blood, will you follow that blood, or will you demand to own everything but the dress your wife stands in, like some wetland savage?\"\n\n\"That's not at all the way it is,\" he protested, \"and any woman where I come from would brain a man who thought it was. Anyway, don't you think that ought to be settled between me and whoever I do decide to marry?\" If anything, she scowled harder than before.\n\nTo his relief, Rhuarc came trotting back from the head of the Jindo. \"We are there,\" the Aielman announced with a smile. \"Cold Rocks Hold.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Frowning, Rand looked around. A mile ahead stood a tight cluster of tall, sheer-sided buttes, or perhaps one huge butte broken by fissures. To his left the land ran off in patches of tough grass and leafless spiny plants, scattered thorny bushes and low trees, across arid hills and jagged gullies, past huge, rough stone columns to jagged mountains in the distance. To the right the land was the same, except the cracked yellowish clay lay flatter, the mountains closer. It could have been any piece of the Waste he had seen since leaving Chaendaer.\n\n\"Where?\" he said.\n\nRhuarc glanced at Aviendha, who was looking at Rand as though he had lost his wits. \"Come. Let your own eyes show you Cold Rocks.\" Dropping his shoufa to his shoulders, the clan chief turned and loped bareheaded toward the fissured rock wall ahead.\n\nThe Shaido had already halted, milling about and beginning to setup their tents. Heirn and the Jindo fell in behind Rhuarc at a trot with their pack mules, uncovering their heads and shouting wordlessly, and the Maidens escorting the peddlers cried for the drivers to hasten their teams and follow the Jindo. One of the Wise Ones lifted her skirts to her knees and ran to join Rhuarc-Rand thought it was Amys, from the pale hair; surely Bair could not move that nimbly-but the rest of the Wise Ones'party maintained its original pace. Fora moment Moiraine looked as if she would breakaway, toward Rand, then hesitated, arguing with one of the other Wise Ones, hair still hidden by her shawl. Finally the Aes Sedai reined her white mare back beside Egwene's gray and Lan's black stallion, just ahead of the white-robed gai'shain who were tugging the pack animals along. They were heading the same way as Rhuarc and the others, though." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rand leaned down to offer a hand to Aviendha. When she shook her head, he said, \"If they are going to be making all that noise, I won't be able to hear you down there. What if I make a wool-headed mistake because I can't hear what you say?\"\n\nMuttering under her breath, she glanced at the Maidens around the peddlers'wagons, then sighed and clasped his arm. He hoisted her up, ignoring her indignant squawk, and swung her onto Jeade'en behind the saddle. Whenever she tried to mount by herself, she came close to pulling him out of the saddle. He gave her a moment to settle her heavy skirts, though at best they bared her legs well above her soft, knee-high boots, then heeled the dapple to a canter. It was the first time Aviendha had ridden faster than a walk; she flung her arms around his waist and hung on.\n\n\"If you make me look the fool before my sisters, wetlander,\" she snarled warningly against his back.\n\n\"Why would they think you a fool? I've seen Bair and Amys and the others ride behind Moiraine or Egwene sometimes to talk.\"\n\nAfter a moment, she said, \"You accept changes more easily than I, Rand al'Thor.\" He was not sure what to make of that.\n\nWhen he brought Jeade'en up with Rhuarc and Heirn and Amys, a little ahead of the still shouting Jindo, he was surprised to see Couladin running easily alongside, flame-colored hair bare. Aviendha tugged Rand's own shoufa down to his shoulders. \"You must enter a hold with your face clear to be seen. I told you that. And make noise. We have been seen long since, and they will know who we are, but it is customary, to show you are not trying to take the hold by surprise.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "He nodded, but held his tongue." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Neither Rhuarc nor any of the three with him were making a sound, and neither was Aviendha. Besides, the Jindo made enough clamor to be heard for miles.\n\nCouladin's head swung toward him. Contempt flashed across that sun-dark face, and something else. Hate and disdain Rand had come to expect, but amusement? What did Couladin find amusing?\n\n\"Fool Shaido,\" Aviendha muttered at his back. Maybe she was right; maybe the amusement was for her riding. But Rand did not think so.\n\nMat galloped up trailing a cloud of yellowish brown dust, hat pulled low and spear resting upright on his stirrup iron like a lance. \"What is this place, Rand?\" he asked loudly, to be heard over the shouts. \"All those women would say was \"Move faster. Move faster.\"\" Rand told him, and he frowned at the towering rock face of the butte. \"You could hold that thing for years, I suppose, with supplies, but it isn't a patch on the Stone, or the Tora Harad.\"\n\n\"The Tora what?\" Rand said. .\n\nMat rolled his shoulders before answering. \"Just something I heard of, once.\" He stood in his stirrups to peer back over the heads of the Jindo toward the peddlers'train. \"At least they're still with us. I wonder how long before they finish trading and go.\"\n\n\"Not before Alcair Dal. Rhuarc says there's a sort of fair whenever clan chiefs meet, even if it's only two or three. With all twelve coming, I don't think Kadere and Keille will want to miss it.\"\n\nMat did not look pleased at the news.\n\nRhuarc led the way straight to the widest fissure in the sheer stonewall, tenor twelve paces across at the broadest, and shadowed by the height of its sheer sides as it wove deeper and deeper, dark and even cool beneath a ribbon of sky. It felt odd to be in so much shade. The Aiels'wordless shouts swelled, magnified between the gray-brown walls; when they suddenly ceased, the silence, broken only by the clatter of mules\" hooves and the creak of wagon wheels far behind, seemed very loud." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They rounded another curve, and the fissure opened abruptly into a wide canyon, long and almost straight. From every side, shrill ululating cries broke from hundreds of women's mouths. A thick crowd lined the way, women in bulky skirts, shawls wrapped about their heads, and men wearing grayish brown coats and breeches, the cadin'sor, and Maidens of the Spear, too, waving their arms in welcome, beating on pots or whatever could make a noise.\n\nRand gaped, and not just for the pandemonium. The canyon walls were green, in narrow terraces climbing halfway up both sides. Not all were really terraces, he realized. Small, flat-roofed houses of gray stone or yellow clay seemed to be stacked practically atop one another, in clusters with paths winding between, and every roof a garden of beans and squashes, peppers and melons and plants he did not know. Chickens ran loose, redder than those he knew, and some strange sort of fowl, larger and speckled gray. Children, most garbed like their elders, and white-robed gai'shain moved among the rows with big clay pitchers, apparently watering individual plants. The Aiel did not have cities, he had always been told, but this was certainly a fair-sized town at least, if as odd a one as he had ever seen. The din was too great for him to ask any of the questions that popped into his head-such as, what were those round fruits, too red and shiny for apples, growing on low, pale-leafed bushes, or those straight, broad-leafed stalks lined with long, fat, yellow-tasseled sprouts? He had been too long a farmer not to wonder.\n\nRhuarc and Heirn slowed, and so did Couladin, but only to a quick walk, thrusting their spears through the bow-case harnesses on their backs. Amys ran on ahead, laughing like a girl, while the men continued their steady advance along the crowd-lined canyon floor, the cries of the hold's women vibrating in the air and nearly overshadowing the clanging of pots. Rand followed, as Aviendha had told him to. Mat looked as if he wanted to turnaround and ride right back out again." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At the far end of the canyon, the wall leaned inward, making a deep, dark pocket. The sun never reached to the back of it, so Aviendha had said, and the rocks there, always cool, gave the hold its name. In front of the shadows, Amys stood with another woman atop a wide gray boulder, its top smoothed fora platform.\n\nThe second woman, slender in her bulky skirts, scarf-bound yellow hair spilling below her waist and touched with white from her temples, appeared older than Amys though certainly more than handsome, with a few fine wrinkles at the corners of her gray eyes. She was dressed the same as Amys, a plain brown shawl over her shoulders, her necklaces and bracelets of gold and carved ivory no finer or richer, but this was Lian, the roofmistress of Cold Rocks Hold.\n\nThe wavering, high-pitched cries dwindled away to nothing as Rhuarc halted before the boulder, a step closer than Heirn and Couladin. \"I ask leave enter your hold, roofmistress,\" he announced in aloud, carrying tone.\n\n\"You have my leave, clan chief,\" the yellow-haired woman replied formally, and just as loudly. Smiling, she added in a much warmer voice, \"Shade of my heart, you will always have my leave.\"\n\n\"I give thanks, roofmistress of my heart.\" That did not sound particularly formal, either.\n\nHeirn stepped forward. \"Roofmistress, I ask leave to come beneath your roof.\"\n\n\"You have my leave, Heirn,\" Lian told the stocky man. \"Beneath my roof, there is water and shade for you. The Jindo sept is always welcome here.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I give thanks, roofmistress.\" Heirn clapped Rhuarc on the shoulder and left to rejoin his people; Aiel ceremony was short, it seemed, and to the point.\n\nSwaggering, Couladin joined Rhuarc, \"I ask leave to enter your hold, roofmistress.\"\n\nLian blinked, frowning at him. A murmur rose behind Rand, an astonished buzz from hundreds of throats. A sudden feel of danger hung in the air. Mat certainly felt it, too, fingering his spear and half-turning to see what the mass of Aiel was doing.\n\n\"What is the matter?\" Rand asked quietly over his shoulder. \"Why doesn't she say something?\"\n\n\"He asked as if he were a clan chief,\" Aviendha whispered disbelievingly. \"The man is a fool. He must be mad! If she refuses him, it will mean trouble with the Shaido, and she may, for such an insult. Not blood feud-he is not their clan chief, however swollen his head-but trouble.\" Between one breath and the next her voice sharpened. \"You did not listen, did you? You did not listen! She could have refused permission even to Rhuarc, and he would have had to leave. It would break the clan, but it is in her power. She can refuse even He Who Comes With the Dawn, Rand al'Thor. Women are not powerless among us, not like your wetlander women who must be queens or nobles or else dance fora man if they wish to eat!\"\n\nHe shook his head slightly. Every time he was on the point of berating himself for how little he had learned about the Aiel, Aviendha reminded him how little she knew about anyone not Aiel. \"Someday I would like to introduce you to the Women's Circle in Emond's Field. It will be... interesting... to hear you explain to them how powerless they are.\" He felt her shifting against his back, trying to get a good look at his face, and carefully kept his expression smooth. \"Maybe they'll explain a few things to you, too.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You have my leave,\" Lian began-Couladin smiled, swelling up where he stood-\"to step beneath my roof." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Water and shade will be found for you.\" Soft gasps from hundreds of mouths made quite aloud sound.\n\nThe fire-haired man quivered as if struck, face red with rage. He did not seem to know what to do. He took a challenging step forward, staring up at Lian and Amys, clutching his own forearms as though to keep his hands from his spears, then whirled and strode back toward the gathering, glaring this way and that, daring anyone to speak. Finally he stopped not far from where he had begun, staring at Rand. Coals could not have been hotter than his blue eyes.\n\n\"As one friendless and alone,\" Aviendha whispered. \"She has welcomed him as a beggar. The gravest insult to him, and none to the Shaido.\" Suddenly she fisted Rand so hard in the ribs that he grunted. \"Move, wetlander. You hold such honor as I have left in your hands; all will know I have taught you! Move!\"\n\nSwinging a leg over, he slid from Jeade'en's back and strode up beside Rhuarc. I am not Aiel, he thought. I do not understand them, and I cannot let myself come to like them too much. I cannot.\n\nNone of the other men had done so, but he bowed to Lian; that was how he had been brought up. \"Roofmistress, I ask leave to come beneath your roof.\" He heard Aviendha's breath catch. He had been supposed to say the other thing, what Rhuarc had. The clan chief's eyes narrowed worriedly, watching his wife, and Couladin's flushed face twisted in a scornful smile. The soft murmurs from the crowd sounded puzzled.\n\nThe roofmistress stared at Rand even harder than she had at Couladin, taking him in from hair to boots and back again, the shoufa lying on the shoulders of a redcoat that would surely never be worn by an Aiel. She looked questioningly at Amys, who nodded." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Such modesty,\" Lian said slowly, \"is becoming in a man. Men seldom know whereto find it.\" Spreading her dark skirts, she curtsied, awkwardly-it was not a thing Aiel women did-but still a curtsy, in return of his bow. \"The Car'a\"carn has leave to enter my hold. For the chief of chiefs, there is ever water and shade at Cold Rocks.\"\n\nAnother great ululation rose from the women in the crowd, but whether for him or for the ceremony, Rand did not know. Couladin paused to stare implacable hatred at him, then stalked off, brushing roughly past Aviendha as she slid ungracefully from the dapple stallion. He melded quickly into the dispersing crowd.\n\nMat slowed in the act of dismounting to stare after the man. \"Watch your back with that one, Rand,\" he said quietly. \"I mean it.\"\n\n\"Everybody tells me that,\" Rand said. The peddlers were already setting up to trade in the center of the canyon, and at the entrance, Moiraine and the rest of the Wise Ones'company were arriving to a few shouts and the drumming of pots, but nothing like the cries that had welcomed Rhuarc. \"He isn't who I have to worry about.\" His dangers were not Aiel. Moiraine to one side and Lanfear to the other. How could I have more danger than that? It was nearly enough to make him laugh.\n\nAmys and Lian had climbed down, and to Rand's surprise, Rhuarc put an arm around each of them. They were both tall, as most Aiel women seemed to be, but neither came higher than the clan chief's shoulder. \"You have met my wife Amys,\" he said to Rand. \"Now you must meet my wife Lian.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Rand realized his mouth was hanging open and closed it quickly." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After Aviendha had told him the roofmistress of Cold Rocks was Rhuarc's wife and named Lian, he was sure he had misunderstood back at Chaendaer, all that'shade of my heart\" between the man and Amys. He had had other things on his mind then anyway. But this...\n\n\"Both of them?\" Mat spluttered. \"Light! Two! Oh, burn me! He's the luckiest man in the world or the biggest fool since creation!\"\n\n\"I had thought,\" Rhuarc said, frowning, \"that Aviendha was teaching you our customs. She leaves out much, it appears.\"\n\nLeaning to look around her husband-their husband-Lian raised an eyebrow at Amys, who said dryly, \"She seemed ideal to tell him what he needs to know. Something to keep her from trying to run back to the Maidens whenever our backs were turned, too. Now it seems I must have along talk with her in a quiet place. No doubt she has been teaching him Maiden hand talk, or how to milk a gara.\"\n\nFlushing slightly, Aviendha tossed her head irritably; her dark reddish hair had grown over her ears, long enough to sway in a fringe below her headscarf. \"There were more important matters to speak of than marriages. Anyway, the man does not listen.\"\n\n\"She has been a good teacher,\" Rand put in quickly. \"I have learned a great deal about your customs, and the Threefold Land, from her.\" Hand talk? \"Any mistakes I make are mine, not hers.\" How did you milk a venomous two-foot lizard? Why? \"She has been a good teacher, and I'd like to keep her as such, if that is all right.\" Why in the Light did I say that? The woman could be pleasant enough sometimes, when she forget herself, anyway; the rest of the time she was a burr under his coat. Yet at least he knew who the Wise Ones had set to watch him as long as she was there." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Amys studied him, those clear blue eyes as sharp as an Aes Sedai's." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But then, she could channel; her face merely looked younger than it should, not ageless, but maybe she was as much Aes Sedai as an Aes Sedai. \"That sounds a fine arrangement tome,\" she said. Aviendha opened her mouth, all bristling indignation-and closed it again, sullenly, when the Wise One shifted that stare to her. Perhaps the woman had thought her time with him was done, now they had reached Cold Rocks.\n\n\"You must be tired after your journey,\" Lian said to Rand, her gray eyes motherly, \"and hungry as well. Come.\" Her warm smile included Mat, who was hanging back and beginning to look to the peddlers' wagons. \"Come beneath my roof.\"\n\nFetching his saddlebags, Rand left Jeade'en to the care of a gai'shain woman, who took Pips as well. Mat gave the wagons a final stare before tossing his saddlebags over his shoulder and following.\n\nLian's roof, her house, sat on the highest level on the west side, with the steep canyon wall rising a good hundred paces above. Dwelling of the clan chief and roofmistress or no, from the outside it appeared to be a modest rectangle of large yellow-clay bricks with narrow, glassless windows covered by plain white curtains, a vegetable garden on its flat roof and another in front on a small terrace separated from the house by a narrow path paved with flat gray stones. Big enough for two rooms, maybe. Except perhaps for the square bronze gong hanging beside the door, it looked much like the other structures Rand could see, and from that vantage point the entire length of the valley was laid out below him. A small, simple house. Inside, it was something else.\n\nThe brick part was one large room, floored with reddish brown tiles, but it was only part. Carved into the stone behind were more rooms, high-ceilinged and surprisingly cool, with wide, arched doorways and silver lamps giving off ascent that hinted of green places. Rand saw only one chair, tall-backed and lacquered red and gold, with a look of not much use; the chief's chair, Aviendha called it. There was little more wood to be seen, beyond a few polished or lacquered boxes and chests, and low reading stands holding open books; the reader would need to lie on the floor. Intricately woven carpets covered the floors, and bright rugs in layers; he recognized some patterns from Tear and Cairhien and Andor, even Illian and Tarabon, while other designs were unfamiliar, broad jagged stripes and no two colors alike, or linked hollow squares in grays and browns and blacks. In sharp contrast to the harsh sameness outside this valley, there was vivid color everywhere, wall hangings he was sure had come from the other side of the Spine of the World-perhaps in the same way wall hangings had left the Stone of Tear-and cushions of all sizes and hues, often tasseled or fringed or both in silk of red or gold. Here and there, in niches carved into the walls, stood a thin porcelain vase or a silver bowl or an ivory carving, often of some strange animal or other. So these were the'caves\" the Tairens spoke of. It could have had the garishness of Tear-or the Tinkers-but instead it seemed dignified, formal and informal at the same time." }, { "from": "human", "value": "With a small grin for Aviendha to show her he had listened, Rand pulled a guest gift for Lian from his saddlebags, a finely worked golden lion." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It had been looted from Tear and bought from a Jindo Water Seeker, but if he was ruler of Tear, maybe it was like stealing from himself. After a moment of hesitation, Mat produced a gift, too, a Tairen necklace of silver flowers, no doubt from the same source originally, and no doubt intended for Isendre.\n\n\"Exquisite,\" Lian smiled, holding up the lion. \"I have always had a taste for Tairen craftwork. Rhuarc brought me two pieces many years ago.\" Ina voice suitable fora goodwife reminiscing over some particularly fine sugarberries, she said to her husband, \"You took them from the tent of a High Lord just before Laman was beheaded, did you not? A pity you did not reach Andor. I have always wanted apiece of Andoran silver. This necklace is beautiful, too, Mat Cauthon.\"\n\nListening to her heap praise on both gifts, Rand masked his shock. For all her skirts and motherly eyes, she was as Aiel as any Maiden of the Spear.\n\nBy the time Lian finished, Moiraine and the other Wise Ones arrived with Lan and Egwene. The Warder's sword drew a single disapproving glance, but the roofmistress welcomed him warmly after Bair called him Aan'allein. Yet that was nothing to her greeting for Egwene and Moiraine.\n\n\"You honor my roof, Aes Sedai.\" The roof mistress's tone made it sound an understatement; she came very close to bowing to them. \"It is said that we served Aes Sedai before the Breaking of the World and failed them, and for that failure were sent hereto the Three-fold Land. Your presence says that perhaps our sin was not beyond forgiving.\" Of course. She had not been to Rhuidean; apparently the prohibition against speaking of what happened in Rhuidean with anyone who had not been there applied even between husband and wife. And between sister-wives, or whatever the relationship was between Amys and Lian." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Moiraine tried to give Lian a guest gift, too, tiny crystal-and-silver flasks of scent all the way from Arad Doman, but Lian spread her hands. \"Your very presence is guest gift beyond value, Aes Sedai. To accept more would dishonor my roof, and me. I could not bear the shame.\" She sounded entirely serious, and troubled that Moiraine might press the scent on her. It was an indication of the relative importance of the Car'a\"carn and an Aes Sedai.\n\n\"As you wish,\" Moiraine said, returning the flasks to her belt pouch. She was icily serene in blue silk, her pale cloak thrown back. \"Your Three-fold Land will surely see more Aes Sedai. We have never had reason to come, before.\"\n\nAmys did not look best pleased over that at all, and flame-haired Melaine stared at Moiraine like a green-eyed cat wondering if she should do something about a large dog that had wandered into her barnyard. Bair and Seana exchanged troubled glances, but nothing like the two who could channel.\n\nA flurry of gai'shain-men and women alike graceful in cowled white robes, their downcast eyes seeming so strangely submissive in Aiel faces-took Moiraine and Egwene's cloaks, brought damp towels for hands and faces, and tiny silver cups of water to be drunk formally, and finally a meal, served with silver bowls and trays fit fora palace yet eaten from pottery with a blue-striped glaze. Everyone ate lying on the floor, where white tiles had been set into the stone fora table, heads together, cushions under their chests, radiating out like spokes in a wheel while gai'shain slipped between to place dishes." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Mat struggled, shifting this way and that on his cushions, but Lan lounged as if he had always eaten that way, and Moiraine and Egwene looked almost as comfortable. No doubt they had had practice in the Wise Ones' tents. Rand found it awkward, yet the food itself was peculiar enough to take most of his attention.\n\nA dark, spicy stew of goat with chopped peppers was unfamiliar but hardly strange, and peas were peas anywhere, or squash. The same could not be said of the crumbly, coarse yellow bread, or long, bright red beans mixed in with the green, or a dish of bright yellow kernels and bits of pulpy red that Aviendha called zemai and t'mat, or a sweet, bulbous fruit with a tough greenish skin she said came from one of those leafless, spiny plants called kardon. It was all tasty, though.\n\nHe might have enjoyed the meal more if she had not lectured him on everything. Not sister-wives. That was left to Amys and Lian, lying on either side of Rhuarc and smiling at each other almost as much as at their husband. If they had both married him so as not to breakup their friendship, it was plain they both loved him. Rand could not see Elayne and Min agreeing to such an agreement; he wondered why he had even thought of it. The sun must have cooked his brains.\n\nBut if Aviendha left that one explanation to others, she explained everything else in tooth-grinding detail. Maybe she thought him an idiot for not knowing about sister-wives. Turned on her right side to face him, she smiled almost sweetly as she told him the spoon could be used for eating the stew or the zemai and t'mat, but her eyes shone with alight that said it was the Wise Ones being there that kept her from hurling a bowl of something at his head." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I do not know what I've done to you,\" he said quietly. He was very conscious of Melaine on his other side, seeming engrossed in her own low conversation with Seana. Bair put in a word now and then, but he thought she was bending an ear his way, too. \"But if you hate being my teacher so much, you do not have to be. It just popped out. I'm sure Rhuarc or the Wise Ones will find someone else.\" The Wise Ones certainly would, if he rid himself of this spy.\n\n\"You have done nothing tome...\" She bared teeth at him; if it was meant to be a smile, it fell considerably short. \"... and you never will. You may lie however is most comfortable for eating, and talk to those around you. Except for those of us who must instruct instead of sharing the meal, of course. It is considered polite to talk with those on both sides.\" From behind her, Mat looked at Rand and rolled his eyes, clearly relieved to be spared that. \"Unless you are forced to face one in particular, as to teach him. Take food with your right hand-unless you must lean on that elbow-and...\"\n\nIt was torture, and she seemed to enjoy it. The Aiel seemed to set great store by the giving of gifts. Maybe if he gave her a gift...\n\n\"... all talk fora time when the meal is done, unless one of us must teach instead, and...\"\n\nA bribe. It did not seem fair to have to bribe someone who was spying on him, but if she meant to goon even half like this, it would be worth it fora little peace.\n\nWhen the meal was cleared away by gai'shain, and silver cups of dark wine brought, Bair fixed Aviendha with a grim eye across the white tiles, and she subsided sulkily. Egwene knelt up to reach over Mat and pat her, but it did not appear to help. At least she was quiet. Egwene gave him a tight look; either she knew what he was thinking or she considered Aviendha's sulks his fault." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rhuarc dugout his short-stemmed pipe and tabac pouch, thumbing the bowl full then passing the leather pouch to Mat, who had produced his own silver-mounted pipe. \"Some have taken news of you to heart, Rand al'Thor, and quickly it seems. Lian tells me word has come that Jheran, who is clan chief of the Shaarad Aiel, and Bael, of the Goshien, have already reached Alcair Dal. Erim, of the Chareen, is on his way.\" He allowed a slender young gai'shain woman to light his pipe with a burning twig. From the way she moved, with a different sort of grace than the other white-robed men and women, Rand suspected she had been a Maiden of the Spear not too long ago. He wondered how long she had to continue in her year and a day of service, meek and humble.\n\nMat grinned at the woman as she knelt to light his pipe; the green-eyed stare she gave him from the depths of her cowl was not meek at all, and wiped the grin right off his face. Irritably, he rolled onto his belly, a thin blue streamer rising from his pipe. It was too bad he did not seethe satisfaction on her face, or see it wiped away in a blush by one glance from Amys; the green-eyed young woman scurried away looking shamed beyond belief. And Aviendha, whoso hated having had to give up the spear, who still saw herself as spear-sister to a Maiden of whatever clan...? She frowned at the departing gai'shain as Mistress al'Vere would have glared at someone who had spit on the floor. A strange people. Egwene was the only one Rand saw with any sympathy in her eyes at all." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The Goshien and the Shaarad,\" he muttered at his wine. Rhuarc had told him each clan chief would bring a few warriors to the Golden Bowl, for honor, and each sept chief, as well. Added together, it meant perhaps a thousand from each clan. Twelve clans. Twelve thousand men and Maidens, eventually, all tied up in their strange honor and ready to dance the spears if a cat sneezed. Maybe more, because of the fair. He looked up. \"They have a feud, don't they?\" Rhuarc and Lan both nodded. \"I know you said that something like the Peace of Rhuidean holds at Alcair Dal, Rhuarc, but I saw how far that Peace held Couladin and the Shaido. Maybe I had better go right away. If the Goshien and the Shaarad start fighting... A thing like that could spread. I want all the Aiel behind me, Rhuarc.\"\n\n\"The Goshien are not Shaido,\" Melaine said sharply, shaking her red-gold mane like a lioness.\n\n\"Nor are the Shaarad.\" Bair's reedy voice was thinner than that of the younger woman, but no less definite. \"Jheran and Bael may try to kill one another, before they return to their holds, but not at Alcair Dal.\"\n\n\"None of which answers Rand al'Thor's question,\" Rhuarc said. \"If you go to Alcair Dal before all of the chiefs arrive, those who have not come yet will lose honor. It is not a good way to announce that you are Car'a\"carn, dishonoring men you will call to follow you. The Nakai have furthest to come. A month, and all will beat Alcair Dal.\"\n\n\"Less,\" Seana said with a brisk shake of her head. \"I have walked Alsera's dreams twice, and she says Bruan means to run all the way from Shiagi Hold. Less than a month.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"A month before you leave, to be sure,\" Rhuarc told Rand. \"Then three days to Alcair Dal. Perhaps four. All will be there then.\"\n\nA month. He rubbed his chin. Too long. Too long, and no choice. In stories, things always happened as the hero planned, seemingly when he wanted them to happen. In real life it rarely occurred that way, even fora ta'veren with prophecy supposedly working for him. In real life it was scratch and hope, and luck if you found more than half a loaf where you needed a whole. Yet apart of his plan was following the path he had hoped for. The most dangerous part.\n\nMoiraine, stretched out between Lan and Amys, sipped her wine lazily, eyes lidded as if sleepy. He did not believe it. She saw everything, heard everything. But he had nothing to say now that she should not hear. \"How many will resist, Rhuarc? Or oppose me? You have hinted, but you've never said for sure.\"\n\n\"I cannot be sure in it,\" the clan chief replied around his pipestem. \"When you show the Dragons, they will know you. There is noway to imitate the Dragons of Rhuidean.\" Had Moiraine's eyes flickered? \"You are the one prophesied. I will support you, and Bruan certainly, and Dhearic, of the Reyn Aiel. The others...? Sevanna, Suladric's wife, will bring the Shaido since the clan has no chief. She is young to be roofmistress of a hold, doubtless displeased she will have only one roof and not an entire hold when someone is chosen to replace Suladric. And Sevanna is as wily and untrustworthy as any Shaido ever born. But even if she makes no trouble, you know that Couladin will; he acts the clan chief, and some Shaido may follow him without his entering Rhuidean. Shaido are fools enough for that. Han, of the Tomanelle, may move in any direction. He is a prickly man, hard to know and difficult to deal with, and-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "He cutoff as Lian murmured softly, \"Is there any other kind?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rand did not think the clan chief had been meant to hear. Amys hid a smile behind her hand; her sister-wife buried her face innocently in her winecup.\n\n\"As I was saying,\" Rhuarc said, frowning resignedly from one of his wives to the other, \"it is not a thing I can be sure of. Most will follow you. Perhaps all. Perhaps even the Shaido. We have waited three thousand years for the man who bears two Dragons. When you show your arms, none will doubt you are the one sent to unite us.\" And break them; but he did not mention that. \"The question is how they will decide to react.\" He tapped his teeth with his pipestem fora moment. \"You will not change your mind and don the cadin'sor?\"\n\n\"And show them what, Rhuarc? A pretend Aiel? As well dress Mat for Aiel.\" Mat choked on his pipe. \"I will not pretend. I am what I am; they must take meas I am.\" Rand raised his fists, coatsleeves falling enough to uncover the golden-maned heads on the backs of his wrists. \"These prove me. If they aren't enough, then nothing is.\"\n\n\"Where do you mean to \"lead the spears to war once more\"?\" Moiraine asked suddenly, and Mat choked again, snatching the pipe out of his mouth and staring at her. Her dark eyes were not lidded any longer.\n\nRand's fists tightened convulsively, till his knuckles cracked. Trying to be clever with her was dangerous; he should have learned that long since. She remembered every word that she heard, filed it away, sorted and examined until she knew just what it meant.\n\nHe got to his feet slowly. They were all watching him. Egwene frowned even more worriedly than Mat, but the Aiel just watched. Talk of war did not upset them. Rhuarc looked-ready. And Moiraine's face was all frozen calm." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"If you will excuse me,\" he said, \"I am going to walk around awhile.\"\n\nAviendha rose to her knees, and Egwene stood, but neither followed him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Outside, on the stone-paved path between the yellow-brick house and the terraced vegetable garden, Rand stood staring down the canyon, not seeing much beyond afternoon shadows creeping across the canyon floor. If only he could trust Moiraine not to hand him to the Tower on a leash; he had no doubt she could do it, without using the Power once, if he gave her an inch. The woman could manipulate a bull through a mouse hole without ever letting it know. He could use her. Light, I'm as bad as she is. Use the Aiel. Use Moiraine. If only I could trust her.\n\nHe headed toward the mouth of the canyon, slanting down whenever he found a footpath leading that way. They were all narrow, paved with small stones, some of the steeper carved insteps. Hammers ringing in several smithies echoed faintly. Not all of the buildings were houses. Through one open door he saw several women working looms, and another showed a silversmith putting up her small hammers and gouges, a third a man at a potter's wheel, his hands in the clay and the brick kilns hot behind him. Men and boys, except the youngest, all wore the cadin'sor, the coat and breeches in grays and browns, but there were often subtle differences between warriors and craftsmen, a smaller belt knife or none at all, perhaps a shoufa with no black veil attached. Yet watching a blacksmith heft a spear he had just given afoot-long point, Rand had no doubt the man could use the weapon as readily as make it.\n\nThe paths were not crowded, but there were plenty of people about. Children laughed, running and playing, the smaller girls almost as likely to be carrying pretend spears as dolls. Gai'shain carried tall clay jars of water on their heads, or weeded in the gardens, often under the direction of a child often or twelve. Men and women going about the tasks of their lives, not really that different from the things they might have done in Emond's Field, whether sweeping in front of a door or mending a wall. The children hardly gave him a glance, for all his redcoat and thick-soled boots, and the gai'shain were so self-effacing it was difficult to say whether they noticed him or not. But craftsmen or fighters, men or women, the adults looked at him with an air of speculation, an edge of uncertain anticipation." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Very young boys ran barefoot in robes much like those of the gai'shain, but in the grayish-brown of the cadin'sor, not white. The youngest girls darted about on bare feet, too, in short dresses that sometimes failed to cover their knees. One thing about the girls caught his eye; up to perhaps twelve or so, they wore their hair in two braids, one over each ear, plaited with brightly colored ribbons. Just the way Egwene had worn hers. It had to be coincidence. Likely the reason she had stopped was that one of the Aiel woman had told her that was how young Aiel girls wore their hair. A foolish thing to bethinking about anyway. Right now he had one woman to deal with. Aviendha.\n\nOn the canyon floor, the peddlers were doing a brisk trade with the Aiel crowding around the canvas-topped wagons. At least the drivers were, and Keille, a blue lace shawl on her ivory combs today, was bargaining hard in aloud voice. Kadere sat on an upturned barrel in the shade of his white wagon in a cream-colored coat, mopping his face, making no effort to sell anything. He eyed Rand and made as if to rise before sinking back. Isendre was nowhere to be seen, but to Rand's surprise, Natael was, his patch-covered cloak attracting a flock of following children, and some adults. Apparently the attraction of anew and larger audience had pulled him away from the Shaido. Or maybe Keille just did not want him out of her sight. Engrossed in her trading as she was, she found time to frown at the gleeman often.\n\nRand avoided the wagons. Questions asked of Aiel told him where the Jindo had gone, each to the roof of his or her society here at Cold Rocks. The Roof of the Maidens lay halfway up the still brightly lit east wall of the canyon, a garden-topped rectangle of grayish stone doubtless larger inside than it looked. Not that he saw the inside. A pair of Maidens squatting beside the door with spears and bucklers refused him entrance, amused and scandalized that a man wanted to enter, but one agreed to carry his request in." }, { "from": "human", "value": "A few minutes later the Jindo and Nine Valleys Maidens who had gone to the Stone came out." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And all the other Maidens of Nine Valleys sept in Cold Rocks, too, crowding the path to either side and climbing upon the roof among the rows of vegetables to watch, grinning as if they expected entertainment. Gai'shain, male as well as female, followed to serve them small cups of dark-brewed tea; whatever rule kept men outside the Roof of the Maidens apparently did not apply to gai'shain.\n\nAfter he had examined several offerings, Adelin, the yellow-haired Jindo woman with the thin scar on her cheek, produced a wide bracelet of ivory heavily carved with roses. He thought it should suit Aviendha; whoever made it had carefully shown thorns among the blossoms.\n\nAdelin was tall even for an Aiel woman, only a hand too short to look him the eyes. When she heard why he wanted it-almost why; he just said it was a present for Aviendha's teachings, not a sop to soothe the woman's temper so he could stand to be near her-Adelin looked around at the other Maidens. They had all stopped grinning, their faces expressionless. \"I will take no price for this, Rand al'Thor,\" she said, putting the bracelet in his hand.\n\n\"Is this wrong?\" he asked. How would Aiel see it? \"I don't want to dishonor Aviendha in anyway.\"\n\n\"It will not dishonor her.\" She beckoned a gai'shain woman carrying pottery cups and pitcher on a silver tray. Pouring two cups, she handed one to him. \"Remember honor,\" she said, sipping from his cup.\n\nAviendha had never mentioned anything like this. Uncertain, he took a sip of bitter tea and repeated, \"Remember honor.\" It seemed the safest thing to say. To his surprise, she kissed him lightly on each cheek." }, { "from": "human", "value": "An older Maiden, gray-haired but still hard-faced, appeared in front of him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Remember honor,\" she said, and sipped.\n\nHe had to repeat the ritual with every Maiden there, finally just touching the cup to his lips. Aiel ceremonies might be short and to the point, but when you had to repeat one with seventy-odd women, even sips could fill you up. Shadows were climbing the east side of the canyon by the time he escaped.\n\nHe found Aviendha near Lian's house, vigorously beating a blue-striped carpet hung on a line, more piled beside her in a heap of colors. Brushing sweat-damp strands of hair from her forehead, she stared at him expressionlessly when he handed her the bracelet and told her it was a gift in return for her teaching.\n\n\"I have given bracelets and necklaces to friends who did not carry the spear, Rand al'Thor, but I have never worn one.\" Her voice was perfectly flat. \"Such things rattle and make noise to give you away when you must be silent. They catch when you must move quickly.\"\n\n\"But you can wear it now that you are going to be a Wise One.\"\n\n\"Yes.\" She turned the ivory circle over as if unsure what to do with it, then abruptly thrust her hand through it and held her wrist up to stare at it. She could have been looking at an manacle.\n\n\"If you do not like it... Aviendha, Adelin said it would not touch your honor. She even seemed to approve.\" He mentioned the tea-sipping ceremony, and she squeezed her eyes shut and shuddered. \"What is wrong?\"\n\n\"They think you are trying to attract my interest.\" He would not have believed her voice could be so flat. Her eyes held no emotion at all. \"They have approved of you, as if I still carried the spear.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Light!" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Simple enough to set them straight. I don't-\" He cutoff as her eyes blazed up.\n\n\"No! You accepted their approval, and now you would reject it? That would dishonor me! Do you think you are the first man to try to catch my eye? They must think as they think, now. It means nothing.\" Grimacing, she gripped the woven carpet beater with both hands. \"Go away.\" With a glance at the bracelet, she added, \"You truly know nothing, do you? You know nothing. It is not your fault.\" She seemed to be repeating something she had been told, or trying to convince herself. \"I am sorry if I ruined your meal, Rand al'Thor. Please go. Amys says I must clean all of these rugs and carpets no matter how long it takes. It will take all night, if you stand here talking.\" Turning her back to him, she thwacked the striped carpet violently, the ivory bracelet jumping on her wrist.\n\nHe did not know whether the apology sprang from his gift or an order from Amys-he suspected the latter-yet she actually sounded as if she meant it. She was certainly not pleased-judging by the sharp grunt of effort that accompanied every full-armed swing of the beater-but she had not looked hateful once. Upset, appalled, even furious, but not hateful. That was better than nothing. She might become civil eventually.\n\nAshe stepped into the brown-tiled entry chamber of Lian's house, the Wise Ones were talking together, all four with shawls draped loosely over their elbows. They fell silent at his appearance.\n\n\"I will have you shown to your sleeping room,\" Amys said. \"The others have seen theirs.\"\n\n\"Thank you.\" He glanced'back at the door, frowning slightly.\" Amys, did you tell Aviendha to apologize tome for dinner?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No. Did she?\" Her blue eyes looked thoughtful fora moment; he thought Bair almost smiled. \"I would not have ordered her to, Rand al'Thor. A forced apology is no apology.\"\n\n\"The girl was told only to dust carpets until she had sweated out some of her temper,\" Bair said. \"Anything more came from her.\"\n\n\"And not in hopes of escaping her labors,\" Seana added. \"She must learn to control her anger. A Wise One must be in control of her emotions, not they in control of her.\" With a slight smile, she glanced sideways at Melaine. The sun-haired woman compressed her lips and sniffed.\n\nThey were trying to convince him Aviendha was going to be wonderful company from now on. Did they really think he was blind? \"You must know that I know. About her. That you set her to spy on me.\"\n\n\"You do not know as much as you think,\" Amys said, for all the world like an Aes Sedai with hidden meanings she did not intend to let him see.\n\nMelaine shifted her shawl, eyeing him up and down in a considering manner. He knew a little about Aes Sedai; if she were Aes Sedai, she would be Green Ajah. \"I admit,\" she said, \"that at first we thought you would not see beyond a pretty young woman, and you are handsome enough that she should have found your company more amusing than ours. We did not reckon with her tongue. Or other things.\"\n\n\"Then why are you so eager for her to stay with me?\" There was more heat in his voice than he wanted. \"You can't think I will reveal anything to her now that I don't want you to know.\"\n\n\"Why do you allow her to remain?\" Amys asked calmly. \"If you refused to accept her, how could we force heron you?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"At least this way I know who the spy is.\" Having Aviendha under his eye had to be better than wondering which of the Aiel were watching him. Without her, he would probably suspect that every casual comment from Rhuarc was an attempt to pry. Of course, there was noway to say it was not. Rhuarc was married to one of these women. Suddenly he was glad he had not confided more in the clan chief. And sad that he had thought of it. Why had he ever believed the Aiel would be simpler than Tairen High Lords? \"I'm satisfied to leave her right where she is.\"\n\n\"Then we are all satisfied,\" Bair said.\n\nHe eyed the leathery-faced woman leerily. There had been a note of something in her voice, as if she knew more than he did. \"She will not find out what you want.\"\n\n\"What we want?\" Melaine snapped; her longhair swung as she tossed her head. \"The prophecy says \"a remnant of a remnant shall be saved.\" What we want, Rand al'Thor, Car'a'carn, is to save as many of our people as we can. Whatever your blood, and your face, you have no feeling for us. I will make you know our blood for yours if I have to lay the-\"\n\n\"I think,\" Amys cut her off smoothly, \"that he would like to see his sleeping room now. He looks tired.\" She clapped her hands sharply, and a willowy gai'shain woman appeared. \"Show this man to the room that has been prepared for him. Bring him whatever he needs.\"\n\nLeaving him standing there, the Wise Ones headed for the door, Bair and Seana looking daggers at Melaine, like members of the Women's Circle eyeing someone they meant to call to account sharply. Melaine ignored them; as the door closed behind them she was muttering something that sounded like'talk sense into that fool girl.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "What girl? Aviendha? She was already doing what they wanted. Egwene maybe? He knew she was studying something with the Wise Ones. And what was Melaine willing to'lay\" in order to make him'know their blood for his\"? How could laying something make him decide he was Aiel? Lay a trap, maybe? Fool! She wouldn't say right out she means to lay a trap. What sorts of things do you lay? Hens lay eggs, he thought, laughing softly. He was tired. Too tired for questions now, after twelve days in the saddle and part of a thirteenth, all of them oven-hot and dry; he did not want to think of how he would feel if he had walked that distance at the same pace. Aviendha must have steel legs. He wanted abed.\n\nThe gai'shain was pretty, despite a thin scar slanting just above one pale blue eye into hair so light as to look almost silver. Another Maiden; only not for the moment. \"If it pleases you to follow me?\" she murmured, lowering her eyes.\n\nThe sleeping room was not a bedchamber, of course. Unsurprisingly, the'bed\" consisted of a thick pallet unfolded atop layered, brightly colored rugs. The gai'shain-her name was Chion-looked shocked when he asked for wash water, but he was tired of sweat baths. He was willing to bet Moiraine and Egwene had not had to sit in a tent full of steam to get clean. Chion brought the water, though, hot in a large brown pitcher meant for watering the garden, and a big white bowl fora washbasin. He chased her out when she offered to wash him. Strange people, all of them!\n\nThe room was windowless, lit by silver lamps hanging from brackets on the walls, but he knew it could not yet be full dark outside when he finished washing. He did not care. Only two blankets lay on the pallet, neither particularly thick. No doubt a sign of Aiel hardiness. Remembering the cold nights in the tents, he dressed again except for his coat and boots before blowing out the lamps and crawling beneath the blankets in pitch darkness." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Tired as he was, he could not stop tossing and thinking. What did Melaine mean to lay? Why did the Wise Ones not care that he knew Aviendha was their spy? Aviendha. A pretty woman, if surlier than a mule with four stone-bruised hooves. His breathing slowed, his thoughts became misty. A month.\n\nToo long. No choice. Sooner. Isendre smiling. Kadere watching. Trap. Lay a trap. Whose trap? Which trap? Traps. If only he could trust Moiraine. Perrin. Home. Perrin was probably swimming in...\n\nEyes closed, Rand stroked through the water. Nicely cool. And so wet. It seemed that he had never before realized how good wet felt. Lifting his head, he looked around at the willows lining one end of the pond, the big oak at the other, stretching thick, shading limbs over the water. The Waterwood. It was good to be home. He had the feeling he had been away; where was not exactly clear, but not important, either. Up to Watch Hill. Yes. He had never been farther than that. Cool and wet. And alone.\n\nSuddenly two bodies hurtled through the air, knees clutched to chest, landing with great splashes that blinded him. Shaking the water out of his eyes, he found Elayne and Min smiling at him from either side, just their heads showing above the pale green surface. Two strokes would take him to either woman. Away from the other. He could not love both of them. Love? Why had that popped into his head?\n\n\"You do not know who you love.\"\n\nHe spun about in a swirl of water. Aviendha stood on the bank, in cadin'sor rather than skirt and blouse. Not glaring, though, just looking. \"Come into the water,\" he said. \"I'll teach you how to swim.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Musical laughter pulled his head around to the opposite bank. The woman who stood there, palely naked, was the most beautiful he had ever seen, with big, dark eyes that made his head whirl. He thought he knew her.\n\n\"Should I allow you to be unfaithful tome, even in your dreams?\" she said. Somehow he was aware without looking that Elayne and Min and Aviendha were not there anymore., This was beginning to feel very odd.\n\nFora long moment she considered him, completely unconscious of her nudity. Slowly she posed on toe tips, arms sweptback, then dove cleanly into the pond. When her head popped above the surface, her shining black hair was not wet. That seemed surprising, fora moment. Then she had reached him-had she swum, or was she just there?-tangling arms and legs around him. The water was cool, her flesh hot.\n\n\"You cannot escape me,\" she murmured. Those dark eyes seemed far deeper than the pond. \"I will make you enjoy this so you never forget, asleep or awake.\"\n\nAsleep or...? Everything shifted, blurred. She wrapped herself around him tighter, and the blur went away. Everything was as it had been. Rushes filled one end of the pond; leatherleaf and pine grew almost to the water's edge at the other.\n\n\"I know you,\" he said slowly. He thought he must, or why would he be letting her do this? \"But I don't... This is not right.\" He tried to pull her loose, but as fast as he pried an arm away, she had it back again.\n\n\"I ought to mark you.\" There was a fierce edge in her voice. \"First that milk-hearted Ilyena and now... How many women do you hold in your thoughts?\" Suddenly her small white teeth burrowed at his neck." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "As the author's assistant, please continue the story.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, prophecy\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: The Shadow Rising\nChapter: 54" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You fool Ogier,\" Perrin laughed fondly. \"Going off like that. I ought to let Daise Congar switch you fora runaway. At least you're alive. At least you're back.\" His voice sank at that. Alive. And back in Emond's Field.\n\n\"We did it, Perrin,\" Loial panted, a tired drumlike boom. \"Four days ago. We closed the Waygate. It will take the Elders or an Aes Sedai to open it again.\"\n\n\"He carried me most of the way from the mountains,\" Gaul said. \"A Nightrunner and perhaps fifty Trollocs chased us the first three days, but Loial outran them.\" He was trying to push the Maidens away without much success.\n\n\"Lie still, Shaarad,\" Chiad snapped, \"or I will say I have touched you armed and allow you to choose how your honor stands.\" Faile gave a delighted laugh. Perrin did not understand, but the remark reduced the imperturbable Aielman to splutters. He let the Maidens tend his leg.\n\n\"Are you all right, Loial?\" Perrin asked. \"Are you hurt?\"\n\nThe Ogier pulled himself up with an obvious effort, swaying fora moment like a tree about to fall. His ears still hung limp. \"No, I am not hurt, Perrin. Only tired. Do not worry yourself about me. Along timeout of the stedding. Visits are not enough.\" He shook his head as if his thoughts had wandered. His wide hand engulfed Perrin's shoulder. \"I will be fine after a little sleep.\" He lowered his voice. For an Ogier, he did; it was still a huge bumblebee rumble. \"It is very bad out there, Perrin. We followed the last bands down, for the most part. We locked the gate, but I think there must be several thousand Trollocs in the Two Rivers already, and maybe as many as fifty Myrddraal.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Not so,\" Luc announced loudly. He had galloped up along the edge of the houses from the direction of the North Road. He reined his rearing black stallion to a flashy halt, forehooves pawing. \"You are no doubt fine at singing to trees, Ogier, but fighting Trollocs is something different. I estimate less than a thousand now. A formidable force to be sure, but nothing these stout defenses and brave men cannot hold at bay. Another trophy for you, Lord Perrin Goldeneyes.\" Laughing, he tossed a bulging cloth bag at Perrin. The bottom gleamed darkly wet in the moonlight.\n\nPerrin caught it out of the air and hurled it well over the stakes despite its weight. Four or five Trolloc heads, no doubt, and perhaps a Myrddraal. The man brought in his trophies every night, still seeming to expect them to be put up for everyone to admire. A bunch of the Coplins and Congars had given him a feast the night he came in with a pair of Fades' heads.\n\n\"Do I also know nothing of fighting?\" Gaul demanded, struggling to his feet. \"I say there are several thousand.\"\n\nLuc's teeth showed white in a smile. \"How many days have you spent in the Blight, Aiel? I have spent many.\" Perhaps it was more snarl than smile. \"Many. Believe what you wish, Goldeneyes. The endless days will bring what they bring, as they always have.\" He pulled the stallion upon its hind legs again to whirl about, and galloped in among the houses and the trees that had once been the rim of the Westwood. The Two Rivers men shifted uneasily, peering after him or out into the night.\n\n\"He is wrong,\" Loial said. \"Gaul and I saw what we saw.\" His face sagged wearily, broad mouth turned down and long eyebrows drooping on his cheeks. No wonder, if he had carried Gaul for three or four days." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You have done a lot, Loial,\" Perrin said, \"you and Gaul both. A great thing. I am afraid your bedroom has half a dozen Tinkers in it now, but Mistress al'Vere will make you up a pallet. It is time for you to get some of that sleep you want.\"\n\n\"And time for you as well, Perrin Aybara.\" Scudding clouds made moonshadows play across Faile's bold nose and high cheekbones. She was so beautiful. But her voice was firm enough fora wagon bed. \"If you do not go now, I will have Loial carry you. You can hardly stand.\"\n\nGaul was having trouble walking with his wounded leg. Bain supported him from one side. He tried to stop Chiad from taking the other, but she murmured something that sounded like'gai'shain\" in a threatening way, and Bain laughed, and the Aielman allowed them both to help him, growling furiously to himself. Whatever the Maidens were going on about, it did have Gaul in a taking.\n\nTomas clapped Perrin on the shoulder. \"Go, man. Everyone needs to sleep.\" He himself sounded good for three more days without it.\n\nPerrin nodded.\n\nHe let Faile guide him back to the Winespring Inn with Loial and the Aiel following, and Aram, and Dannil and the ten Companions encircling him. He was not sure when the others fell away, but somehow he and Faile were alone in his room on the second floor of the inn.\n\n\"Whole families are making do with no more space than this,\" he muttered. A candle burned on the stone mantel over the small fireplace. Others did without, but Marin lit one here as soon as it turned dark so he would not have to be bothered. \"I can sleep outside with Dannil and Ban and the others.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Do not bean idiot,\" Faile said, making it sound affectionate. \"If Alanna and Verin each has her own room, you should, too.\"\n\nHe realized she had his coat off and was untying the laces of his shirt. \"I am not too tired to undress myself.\" He pushed her gently outside.\n\n\"You take everything off,\" she ordered. \"Everything, do you hear? You cannot sleep properly fully dressed, the way you seem to think.\"\n\n\"I will,\" he promised. When he had the door closed, he did tug off his boots before blowing out the candle and lying down. Marin would not like dirty boots on her coverlet.\n\nThousands, Gaul and Loial said. Yet how much could the two of them have seen, hiding on the way into the mountains, fleeing on the way back? Maybe one thousand at most, Luc claimed, but Perrin could not make himself trust the man for all the trophies he brought in. Scattered, according to the Whitecloaks. How close could they have come, armor and cloaks shining in the darkness like lanterns?\n\nThere was away to see for himself, perhaps. He had avoided the wolf dream since his last visit; the desire to hunt down this Slayer rose up whenever he thought of going back, and his responsibilities lay herein Emond's Field. But now, perhaps... Sleep rolled in while he was still considering.\n\nHe stood on the Green bathed by an afternoon sun low in the sky, a few white clouds drifting. There were no sheep or cattle around the tall pole where a breeze ruffled the red wolfhead banner, though a bluefly buzzed past his face. No people among the thatched houses. Small piles of dry wood atop ashes marked the Whitecloaks' fires; he had rarely seen anything burning in the wolf dream, only what was ready to burn or already charred. No ravens in the sky." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ashe scanned for the birds, a patch of sky darkened, became a window to somewhere else. Egwene stood among a crowd of women, fear in her eyes; slowly the women knelt around her. Nynaeve was one of them, and he believed he saw Elayne's red-gold hair. That window faded and was replaced. Mat stood naked and bound, snarling; an odd spear with a black shaft had been thrust across his back behind his elbows, and a silver medallion, a foxhead, hung on his chest. Mat vanished, and it was Rand. Perrin thought it was Rand. He wore rags and a rough cloak, and a bandage covered his eyes. The third window disappeared; the sky was only sky, empty except for the clouds.\n\nPerrin shivered. These wolf-dream visions never seemed to have any real connection to anything he knew. Maybe here, where things could change so easily, worry over his friends became something he could see. Whatever they were, he was wasting time fretting at them.\n\nHe was not surprised to find he wore a blacksmith's long leather vest and no shirt, but when he put a hand to his belt, he found the hammer, not his axe. Frowning, he concentrated on the long half-moon blade and thick spike. That was what he needed now. That was what he was now. The hammer changed slowly, as if resisting, but when the axe finally hung in the thick loop, it kept shining dangerously. Why did it fight him so? He knew what he wanted. A filled quiver appeared on his other hip, a longbow in his hand, a leather bracer on his left forearm.\n\nThree land-blurring strides took him where the nearest Trolloc camps supposedly lay, three miles from the village. The last step landed him among nearly a dozen tall heaps of wood laid on old ashes amid trampled-down barley, the logs mixed with broken chairs and table legs and even a farmhouse door. Great black iron cauldrons stood ready to be hungover the laid cook fires. Empty cauldrons, of course, though he knew what would be cutup into them, what would be spitted on the thick iron rods stretched over some of the fires. How many Trollocs would these fires serve? There were no tents, and the blankets scattered about, filthy and stinking of old acrid Trolloc sweat, were no real guide; many Trollocs slept like animals, uncovered on the ground, even hollowing out a hole to lie in." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In smaller steps that covered no more than a hundred paces each, the land seeming only to haze, he circled Emond's Field, from farm to farm, pasture to barley field to rows of tabac, through scattered copses of trees, along cart tracks and footpaths, finding more and more clusters of waiting Trolloc fires as he slowly spiraled outward. Too many. Hundreds of fires. That had to mean several thousand Trollocs. Five thousand or tenor twice that-it would make little difference to Emond's Field if they all came at once.\n\nFarther south the signs of Trollocs vanished. Signs of their immediate presence, at least. Few farmhouses or barns stood unburned. Scattered fields of charred stubble remained where barley or tabac had been torched; others had great swathes trampled through the crops. No reason for it but the joy of destruction; the people had been long gone when most of it was done. Once he lighted in the midst of large patches of ash, some charred wagon wheels still showing hints of bright color here and there. The site of the Tuatha'an caravan's destruction pained him even more than the farmhouses. The Way of the Leaf should have a chance. Somewhere. Not here. Not letting himself look, he leaped south a mile or more.\n\nEventually he came to Deven Ride, rows of thatch-roofed houses surrounding a green and a pond fed by a spring walled \"round with stone, the spillover splashing from cuts long since worn deeper than they had been made. The inn at the head of the green, the Goose and Pipe, was roofed with thatch, too, yet a little larger than the Winespring Inn, though Deven Ride surely had even fewer visitors than Emond's Field. The village was certainly no bigger. Wagons and carts drawn close by every house spoke of farmers who had fled herewith their families. Other wagons blocked the streets and the spaces between the houses all the way around the edge of the village. The precautions were not enough to have halted even one of the assaults made on Emond's Field the last seven days." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In three circuits around the village Perrin found only half a dozen Trolloc camps. Enough to keep people in. Pen them until Emond's Field was dealt with. Then the Trollocs could fall on Deven Ride at the Fades\" leisure. Perhaps he could find away to get word to these villagers. If they fled south, they might find someway across the White River. Even trying to cross the trackless Forest of Shadows below the river was better than waiting to die...\n\nThe golden sun had not moved an inch. Time was different, here.\n\nRunning north as hard as he could, even Emond's Field passed by in a blur. Watch Hill on its round prominence was bordered as Deven Ride had been with wagons and carts between the houses. A banner waved lazily in the breeze, on a tall pole in front of the White Boar on the hill's crest. A red eagle flying across afield of blue. The Red Eagle had been the symbol of Manetheren. Perhaps Alanna or Verin had told ancient stories while they were in Watch Hill.\n\nHere, too, he found only a few Trolloc camps, enough to pen the villagers. There was an easier way out from here than trying to cross the White, with its endless stretch of rapids.\n\nOn northward he ran, to Taren Ferry, on the bank of the Tarendrelle, which he had grownup calling the River Taren. Tall, narrow houses built on high stone foundations to escape the Taren's yearly flooding when the snows melted in the Mountains of Mist. Nearly half those foundations supported only piles of ash and charred beams in that unchanging afternoon light. There were no wagons here, no signs of any defense. And no Trolloc camps that he could find. Perhaps no people remained here." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At the water's edge stood a stout wooden dock, a heavy rope drooping as it arced across the swift-flowing river. The rope ran through iron rings on a flat-decked barge snugged against the dock. The ferry was still there, still usable.\n\nA jump took him across the river, where wheel ruts scarred the bank and household objects layabout. Chairs and stand-mirrors, chests, even a few tables and a polished wardrobe with birds carved on the doors, all the things panicked people had tried to save, then abandoned to run faster. They would be spreading the word of what had happened here, what was happening in the Two Rivers. Some could have reached Baerlon by now, a hundred miles or more north, and surely the farms and villages between Baerlon and the river. Word spreading. In another month it might reach Caemlyn, and Queen Morgase with her Queen's Guards and her power to raise armies. A month with luck. And as much to return, once Morgase believed. Too late for Emond's Field. Maybe too late for the whole Two Rivers.\n\nStill, it hardly made sense that the Trollocs had let anyone escape. Or the Myrddraal at any rate; Trollocs did not seem to think much beyond the moment. He would have thought destroying the ferry would have been the Fades' first task. How could they be sure there were not enough soldiers at Baerlon to comedown on them?\n\nHe bent to pickup a doll with a painted wooden face, and an arrow streaked through where his chest had been.\n\nSpringing out of his crouch he leaped up the bank, a blur streaking a hundred paces into the woods to crouch below a tall leatherleaf. Brush and flood-toppled trees woven with creepers covered the forest floor around him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Slayer. Perrin had an arrow nocked, and wondered if he had drawn it from his quiver or simply thought it there. Slayer.\n\nOn the point of leaping away again, he paused. Slayer would know roughly where he was. Perrin had followed the man's blurring form easily enough; that elongated streak was clear if you were standing still. Twice now he had played the other's game and nearly lost. Let Slayer play his this time. He waited.\n\nRavens swooped above the treetops, searching and calling. No movement to give him away; not a twitch. Only his eyes moved, studying the forest around him. A vagrant puff of air brought him a cold smell, human yet not, and he smiled. No sound save the ravens, though; this Slayer stalked well. But he was not used to being hunted. What else did Slayer forget beside smells? He surely would not expect Perrin to remain where he had landed. Animals ran from the hunter; even wolves ran.\n\nA hint of movement, and for an instant a face appeared above a fallen pine some fifty paces away. The slanting light illuminated it clearly. Dark hair and blue eyes, a face all hard planes and angles, so reminiscent of Lan's face. Except that in that brief glimpse Slayer licked his lips twice; his forehead was creased, and his eyes darted as they searched. Lan would not have let his worry show if he stood alone against a thousand Trollocs. Just an instant, and the face was gone again. The ravens darted and swirled above as if they shared Slayer's anxiety, fearing to come below the treetops.\n\nPerrin waited and watched, motionless. Silence. Only the cold smell to say he was not alone with the ravens overhead." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Slayer's face appeared again, peering around a thick-boled oak off to his left. Thirty paces. Oaks killed most of what grew close to them; only a few mushrooms and weedy things sprouted from the leafy mulch beneath its limbs. Slowly the man emerged into the open, boots making no sound.\n\nIn one motion Perrin drew and fired. The ravens screamed warning, and Slayer spun to take the broadhead shaft in his chest, but not through the heart. The man howled, clutching the arrow with both hands; black feathers rained down as the ravens beat their wings in a frenzy. And Slayer faded, him and his cry together, growing misty, transparent, vanishing. The ravens' shrieks vanished as if severed with a knife; the arrow that had transfixed the man dropped to the ground. The ravens were gone, too.\n\nWith a second shaft half-drawn, Perrin exhaled slowly, let off his tension on the bowstring. Was that how you died here? Simply fading away, gone forever?\n\n\"At least I finished him,\" he muttered. And let himself be diverted in the process. Slayer was no part of why he had come to the wolf dream. At least the wolves were safe now. The wolves-and maybe a few others.\n\nHe stepped out of the dream...\n\n... and woke staring at the ceiling, his shirt clinging sweatily. The moon gave a little light through the windows. There were fiddles playing somewhere in the village, a wild Tinker tune. They would not fight, but they had found away to help, by keeping spirits up.\n\nSlowly Perrin sat up, pulling on his boots in the pale-lit dark. How to do what he had to do? It would be difficult. He had to be cunning. Only, he was not sure he had ever been cunning in his life. Standing, he stamped his feet to settle them in." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sudden shouts outside and a fading clatter of hooves made him stride to the nearest window and throw up the sash. The Companions were milling about below. \"What's going on down there?\"\n\nThirty faces turned up to him, and Ban al'Seen yelled, \"It was Lord Luc, Lord Perrin. He nearly rode down Wil and Tell. I don't think he even saw them. He was all hunched over in his saddle like he was hurt, and spurring that stallion for all he was worth, Lord Perrin.\"\n\nPerrin tugged at his beard. Luc had certainly not been wounded earlier. Luc... and Slayer? It was impossible. Dark-haired Slayer looked like Lan's brother or cousin; if Luc, with his red-gold hair, resembled anyone, maybe it was Rand a little. The two men could not have been more dissimilar. And yet.... That cold smell. They did not smell the same, but both had an icy, hardly human scent. His ears picked up the sound of wagons being hauled out of the way down at the Old Road, shouts for haste. Even if Ban and the Companions ran, they would not catch the man now. Hooves galloped south hard.\n\n\"Ban,\" he called, \"if Luc shows up again, he's to be put under guard and kept there.\" He paused long enough to add, \"And don't call me that!\" before hauling the sash down with a bang.\n\nLuc and Slayer; Slayer and Luc. How could they be the same? It was impossible. But then, less than two years gone he had not really believed in Trollocs or Fades. Time enough to worry about it if he ever laid hands on the man again. Now there was Watch Hill and Deven Ride and... Some could be saved. Not everyone in the Two Rivers had to die." }, { "from": "human", "value": "On his way to the common room, he paused at the top of the stairs." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Aram stood up from the bottom step, watching him, waiting to follow where he led. Gaul lay stretched out on a pallet near the fireplace with a bandage thick around his left thigh, apparently asleep. Faile and the Two Maidens sat cross-legged on the floor near him, talking softly. A much larger pallet lay on the far side of the room, but Loial sat on a bench with his legs stretched out so they would fit under one of the tables, nearly doubled over so he could scribble furiously with a pen by the light of a candle. No doubt he was recording what had happened on the journey to close the Waygate. And if Perrin knew Loial at all, the Ogier would have Gaul doing it all, whether he had or not. Loial did not seem to think anything he himself did was brave, or worth writing down. Except for them, the common room was empty. He could still hear those fiddles playing. He thought he recognized the tune. Not a Tinker song, now. \"My Love Is a Wild Rose.\"\n\nFaile looked up at Perrin's first step down, rising gracefully to meet him. Aram took his seat again when Perrin made no move toward the door.\n\n\"Your shirt is wet,\" Faile said accusingly. \"You slept in it, didn't you? And your boots, I shouldn't wonder. It has not been an hour since I left you. You march yourself back upstairs before you fall down.\"\n\n\"Did you see Luc leave?\" he said. Her mouth tightened, but sometimes ignoring her was the only way. She managed to win too often when he argued with her.\n\n\"He came running through here a few minutes ago and dashed out through the kitchen,\" she said finally. Those were the words; her tone said she was not finished with him and bed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Did he seem to be... injured?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" she said slowly. \"He staggered, and he was clutching something to his chest under his coat. A bandage, maybe. Mistress Congar is in the kitchen, but from what I heard he all but ran over her. How did you know?\"\n\n\"I dreamed it.\" Her tilted eyes took on a dangerous light. She must not bethinking. She knew about the wolf dream; did she expect him to explain where Bain and Chiad could hear, not to mention Aram and Loial? Well, maybe not Loial; he was so absorbed in his notes he would not have noticed a flock of sheep herded into the common room. \"Gaul?\"\n\n\"Mistress Congar gave him something to make him sleep, and a poultice for his leg. When the Aes Sedai wake in the morning, one of them will Heal him, if they think it serious enough.\"\n\n\"Come sit down, Faile. I want you to do something for me.\" She eyed him suspiciously, but let him lead her to a chair. When they were seated, he leaned across the table, trying to make his voice serious, but not urgent. On no account urgent. \"I want you to take a message to Caemlyn for me. On the way, you can let Watch Hill know how things are here. Actually, it might be best if they crossed the Taren until it's all done.\" That had sounded properly casual; just a bit thrown in on the spur of the moment. \"I want you to ask Queen Morgase to send us some of the Queen's Guards. I know it's a dangerous thing I'm asking, but Bain and Chiad can get you to Taren Ferry safely, and the ferry is still there.\" Chiad stood up, staring at him anxiously. Why was she anxious?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You will not have to leave him,\" Faile told her. After a moment the Aiel woman nodded and resumed her seat beside Gaul. Chiad and Gaul? They were blood enemies. Nothing was making sense tonight.\n\n\"It is along way to Caemlyn,\" Faile went on quietly. Her eyes very intent on his, but her face could have been wood for all the expression it had. \"Weeks to ride there, plus however long it might take to reach and convince Morgase, then more weeks to return with the Queen's Guards.\"\n\n\"We can holdout that long easily,\" he told her. Burn me if I can't lie as well as Mat! \"Luc was right. There can't be more than a thousand Trollocs still out there. The dream?\" She nodded. At last she understood. \"We can holdout here fora very longtime, but in the meanwhile they'll be burning crops and doing the Light knows what. We'll need the Queen's Guards to rid ourselves of them completely. You are the logical one to go. You know how to talk to a queen, being a queen's cousin and all. Faile, I know what I'm asking is dangerous...\" Not as dangerous as staying. \"... But once you reach the ferry, you'll be on your way.\"\n\nHe did not hear Loial approach until the Ogier laid his book of notes down in front of Faile. \"I could not help overhearing, Faile. If you are going to Caemlyn, would you carry this? To keep it safe until I can come for it.\" Squaring the volume up almost tenderly, he added, \"They print many very fine books in Caemlyn. Forgive me for interrupting, Perrin.\" But his teacup eyes were on her, not him. \"Faile suits you. You should fly free, like a falcon.\" Patting Perrin on the shoulder, he murmured in a deep rumble, \"She should fly free,\" then made his way to his pallet and lay down facing the wall." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"He is very tired,\" Perrin said, attempting to make it seem just a comment." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The fool Ogier could ruin everything! \"If you leave tonight, you can beat Watch Hill by daybreak. You'll have to swing to the east; the Trollocs are fewer there. This is very important tome... to Emond's Field, I mean. Will you do it?\"\n\nShe stared at him silently for so long he wondered if she meant to answer. Her eyes seemed to glisten. Then she got up and sat down on his lap, stroking his beard. \"This needs trimming. I like it on you, but I do not want it down to your chest.\"\n\nHe came close to gaping. She often changed the subject on him, but usually when she was losing an argument. \"Faile, please. I need you to carry this message to Caemlyn.\"\n\nHer hand tightened in his beard, and her head swung as if she were arguing with herself inside her head. \"I will go,\" she said at last, \"but I want a price. You always make me do things the hard way. In Saldaea, I would not have to be the one who asked. My price is... a wedding. I want to marry you,\" she finished up in a rush.\n\n\"And I you.\" He smiled. \"We can say the betrothal vows in front of the Women's Circle tonight, but I'm afraid the wedding has to wait a year. When you comeback from Caemlyn-\" She very nearly yanked a handful of beard out of his chin.\n\n\"I will have you for husband tonight,\" she said in fierce, low tones, \"or I will not go until I do!\"\n\n\"If there was anyway, I would,\" he protested. \"Daise Congar would crack my head if I wanted to go against custom. For the love of the Light, Faile, just carry the message, and I'll wed you the very first day I can.\" He would. If that day ever came." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Suddenly she was very intent on his beard, smoothing it and not meeting his eyes. She started speaking slowly but picked up speed like a runaway horse. \"I... just happened to mention.... in passing... I just mentioned to Mistress al'Vere how we had been traveling together-I don't know how it came up-and she said-and Mistress Congar agreed with her-not that I talked to everybody!-she said that we probably-certainly-could be considered betrothed already under your customs, and the year is just to make sure you really do get on well together-which we do, as anyone can see-and here I am being as forward as some Domani hussy or one of those Tairen galls-if you ever even think of Berelain-oh, Light, I'm babbling, and you won't even-\"\n\nHe cut her off by kissing her as thoroughly as he knew how.\n\n\"Will you marry me?\" he said breathlessly when he was done. \"Tonight?\" He must have done ever better with the kiss than he thought; he had to repeat himself six times, with her giggling against his throat and demanding he say it again, before she seemed to understand.\n\nWhich was how he found himself not half an hour later kneeling opposite her in the common room, in front of Daise Congar and Marin al'Vere, Alsbet Luhhan and Neysa Ayellin and all the Women's Circle. Loial had been roused to stand for him with Aram, and Bain and Chiad stood for Faile. There were no flowers to put in her hair or his, but Bain, guided by Marin, tucked along red wedding ribbon around his neck, and Loial threaded another through Faile's dark hair, his thick fingers surprisingly deft and gentle. Perrin's hands trembled as he cupped hers." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I, Perrin Aybara, do pledge you my love, Faile Bashere, for as long as I live.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "For as long as I live and after. \"What I possess in this world I give to you.\" A horse, an axe, a bow. A hammer. Not much to gift a bride. I give you life, my love. It's all I have. \"I will keep and hold you, succor and tend you, protect and shelter you, for all the days of my life.\" I can't keep you; the only way I can protect you is to send you away. \"I am yours, always and forever.\" By the time he finished, his hands were shaking visibly.\n\nFaile moved her hands to hold his. \"I, Zarine Bashere...\" That was a surprise; she hated that name. \"... do pledge you my love, Perrin Aybara...\" Her hands never trembled at all." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Seated on the tail end of the high-wheeled cart trundling up a twisty Tanchican street behind four sweating men, Elayne scowled through the grimy veil that covered her from eyes to chin, kicking her bare feet irritably. Every lurch over the paving stones jarred her to the top of her skull; the more she braced herself by holding onto the rough wooden planks of the cart bed, the worse it was. It did not seem to bother Nynaeve much; she jounced about like Elayne, but, frowning slightly and eyes looking inward, she appeared hardly aware of it. And Egeanin, crowded against Nynaeve on the other side, veiled and with her dark hair in braids to her shoulders, rode each jolt easily, arms folded. Finally Elayne emulated the Seanchan woman; she could not avoid swaying into Nynaeve, but the ride no longer felt as if her lower teeth were going to be driven through the upper.\n\nShe would have walked gladly, even barefoot, but Bayle Domon had said it would not look right; people might wonder why women were not riding when there was plenty of room, and the last thing they wanted was anyone thinking about them twice. Of course he was not being bounced about like a sack of turnips; he was walking, at the head of the cart with ten of the twenty sailors he had brought along for escort. More would seem suspicious, he claimed. She suspected he would not have had so many if not for her and the other two women.\n\nThe cloudless sky still stretched gray overhead, though first light had crept on before they set out; the streets were still largely empty, and silent except for the rumble of the cart and the creak of its axle. When the sun topped the horizon people would begin to venture out, but now the few she saw were knots of men in baggy trousers and dark cylindrical caps, scuttling along with the furtive air of having been up to no good while dark had held. The old piece of canvas tossed over the cart's load was carefully arranged so anyone could see it covered only three large baskets, yet even so one or another of those small clusters would pause like a pack of dogs, veiled faces all coming up together, eyes swiveling to follow the cart. Apparently twenty men with boarding swords and cudgels were too many to face, because all eventually hurried on." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The wheels dropped into a large hole where paving stones had been pried up in one of the riots; the cart fell away beneath her. She almost bit her tongue as she and the cart bed met again with a hard smack. Egeanin and her casual arm-folding! Grabbing the edge of the cart bed, she frowned at the Seanchan woman. And found her tight-lipped and holding on with both hands also.\n\n\"Not quite the same as standing on deck after all,\" Egeanin said with a shrug.\n\nNynaeve grimaced slightly and tried to edge away from the Seanchan woman, though how she might manage it without climbing into Elayne's lap was difficult to see. \"I am going to speak to Master Bayle Domon,\" she muttered meaningfully, just as if the cart had not been her suggestion in the first place. Another lurch clicked her teeth shut.\n\nThey all three wore drab brown wool, thin-woven but coarse and not very clean, poor farm women's dresses like shapeless sacks compared with the clinging silks of Rendra's taste. Refugees from the countryside earning a meal as they could; that was what they were supposed to be. Egeanin's relief at her first sight of the dresses had been quite evident, and almost as strange as her presence on the cart. Elayne would not have thought the latter conceivable.\n\nThere had been quite a lot of discussion-that was what the men called it-in the Chamber of Falling Blossoms, but she and Nynaeve had countered most of their fool objections and ignored the rest. The two of them had to enter the Panarch's Palace, and as soon as possible. That was when Domon had raised another objection, one not as silly as the rest." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You can no go into the palace alone,\" the bearded smuggler muttered, staring at his fists on the table. \"You say you will no channel unless you must, no to warn these Black Aes Sedai.\" Neither of them had seen any need to mention one of the Forsaken. \"Then you must have muscle to swing a club if the need do arise, and eyes to watch your backs will no be amiss either. I am known there, to the servants. I did take gifts to the old Panarch too. I will go with you.\" Shaking his head, he growled, \"You do make me stretch my neck on the headsman's block because I did leave you at Falme. Fortune prick me if you do no! Well, it do be done now; you can no object to this! I will go in with you.\"\n\n\"You area fool, Illianer,\" Juilin said contemptuously before she or Nynaeve could open their mouths. \"You think the Taraboners will allow you to wander about the palace as you wish? A scruffy smuggler from Illian? I know the ways of servants, how to duck my head and make some empty-headed noble think...\" He cleared his throat hastily, and hurried on without looking at Nynaeve-or at her! \"I should be the one to go with them.\"\n\nThom laughed at the other two men. \"Do you think either of you could pass fora Taraboner? I can; these will do in a pinch.\" He knuckled his long mustaches. \"Besides, you cannot runaround the Panarch's Palace carrying cudgel or staff. A more... subtle... method of protection is needed.\" He flourished a hand, and a knife suddenly appeared, spinning through his fingers to vanish just as quickly; up his sleeve, Elayne believed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You all know what you have to do,\" Nynaeve snapped, \"and you cannot do it trying to watch over us like a pair of geese for market!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Taking a deep breath, she went on, in a milder tone. \"If there was away one of you could come along, I'd appreciate the extra eyes if nothing else, but it cannot be. We have to go alone, it seems, and that is all there is to it.\"\n\n\"I can accompany you,\" Egeanin announced suddenly from where Nynaeve had made her stand in the corner of the room. Everybody turned to look at her; she frowned back as though not quite certain herself. \"These women are Darkfriends. They should be brought to justice.\"\n\nElayne was simply startled at the offer, but Nynaeve, the corners of her mouth going white, looked ready to drub the woman for it. \"You think we would trust you, Seanchan?\" she said coldly. \"Before we leave, you'll be locked securely in a storeroom however much talk it-\"\n\n\"I give oath by my hope of a higher name,\" Egeanin broke in, putting her hands over her heart, one atop the other, \"that I will not betray you in anyway, that I will obey you and guard your backs until you are safely out of the Panarch's Palace.\" Then she bowed three times, deeply and formally. Elayne had no idea what'hope of a higher name\" meant, but the Seanchan woman certainly made it sound binding.\n\n\"She can do it,\" Domon said with slow reluctance. He eyed Egeanin and shook his head. \"Fortune prick me if there be more than two or three of my men I would wager on, coin for coin, against her.\"\n\nNynaeve frowned at her hand gripping half a dozen of her long braids, then quite deliberately gave them a yank.\n\n\"Nynaeve,\" Elayne told her firmly, \"you yourself said you would like another pair of eyes, and I definitely would. Besides which, if we are to do this without channeling, I would not mind having someone along who can handle a nosy guard if need be. I am not up to thumping men with my fists, and neither are you. You remember how she can fight.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nynaeve glared at Egeanin, frowned at Elayne, and then stared at the men as if they had plotted this behind her back. At last, though, she nodded,\n\n\"Good,\" Elayne said. \"Master Domon, that means three sets of dresses, not two. Now, the three of you had best be off. We want to be on our way by daybreak.\"\n\nThe cart jerking to a halt brought Elayne out of her reverie.\n\nDismounted Whitecloaks were questioning Domon. Here the street ran into a square behind the Panarch's Palace, a much smaller square than the one in front. Beyond, the palace stood in piles of white marble, slender towers banded with lacy stonework, snowy domes capped with gold and topped by golden spires or weather vanes. The streets to either side were much wider than most in Tanchico, and straighter.\n\nThe slow clop-clop of a horse's hooves on the square's broad paving stones announced another rider, a tall man in burnished helmet, armor gleaming beneath his white cloak with its golden sunburst and crimson shepherd's crook. Elayne put her head down; the four knots of rank under the flaring sun told her this was Jaichim Carridin. The man had never seen her, but if he thought she was staring he might wonder why. The hooves passed on along the square without pausing.\n\nEgeanin had her face right down, too, but Nynaeve frowned openly after the Inquisitor. \"That man is very worried about something,\" she murmured. \"I hope he's not heard-\"\n\n\"The Panarch is dead!\" a man's voice shouted from somewhere across the square. \"They've killed her!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There was no telling who had shouted, or where. The streets Elayne could see were blocked by Whitecloaks on horses.\n\nLooking back down the street the cart had just climbed, she wished the guards would question Domon more quickly. People were gathering down at the first bend, milling about and peering up toward the square. It seemed Thom and Juilin had made a good job of seeding their rumors during the night. Now if only things did not erupt while they sat out herein the middle of it. If a riot started now... The only thing that kept her hands from shaking washer double grip on the cart bed. Light, a mob out here and the Black Ajah inside, maybe Moghedien... I'm so frightened my mouth is dry. Nynaeve and Egeanin were watching the crowd growing down the street, too, and not even blinking, much less trembling. I will not be a coward. I will not!\n\nThe cart rumbled forward, and she heaved a sigh of relief. It took her a moment to realize she had heard twin echoes from the other two women.\n\nBefore gates not much wider than the cart Domon was questioned again, by men in pointed helmets, their breastplates embossed with a tree painted gold. Soldiers of the Panarch's Legion. The questions were shorter this time; Elayne thought she saw a small purse change hands, and then they were inside, rumbling across the rough-paved yard outside the kitchens. Except for Domon, the sailors remained outwith the soldiers.\n\nElayne hopped down as soon as the cart halted, working her bare feet on the paving; the uneven stones were hard. It was difficult to believe the thin sole of a slipper could make so much difference. Egeanin scrambled up into the cart to pass the baskets out, Nynaeve taking the first on her back, one hand twisted behind her underneath, the other over her shoulder to grip the rim. Long white peppers, a little wizened by their journey all the way from Saldaea, filled the baskets nearly to the top." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As Elayne was taking hers, Domon came to the end of the cart and pretended to inspect the ice peppers. \"The Whitecloaks and the Panarch's Legion do be close to blows, it do appear,\" he murmured, fingering peppers. \"That lieutenant did say the Legion could protect the Panarch themselves if most of the Legion had no been sent to the ring forts. Jaichim Carridin do have access to the Panarch, but no the Lord Captain of the Legion. And they are no pleased that all the guards inside do be Civil Watch. A suspicious man might say someone do want the Panarch's guards to watch each other more than anything else.\"\n\n\"That is good to know,\" Nynaeve murmured without looking at him. \"I've always said you can learn useful things listening to men's gossip.\"\n\nDomon grunted sourly. \"I will take you inside; then I must go back to my men to make sure they do no get caught up in the mob.\" Every sailor from every ship Domon had in port was out in the streets around the palace.\n\nHefting her own basket on her back, Elayne followed the other two women behind him, keeping her head down and wincing at every step until she was on the reddish-brown tiles of the kitchen. The smells of spices and cooking meat and sauces filled the room.\n\n\"Ice peppers for the Panarch,\" Domon announced. \"A gift from Bayle Domon, a good shipowner of this city.\"\n\n\"More of the ice peppers?\" a stout, dark-braided woman in a white apron and the ever-present veil said, barely looking up from a silver tray where she was arranging an ornately folded white napkin among dishes of thin, golden Sea Folk porcelain. There were a dozen or more aproned women in the kitchen, as well as a pair of boys turning dripping roasts on spits in two of the six fireplaces, but clearly she was the chief cook. \"Well, the Panarch, she seems to have enjoyed the last. Into the storeroom there.\" She gestured vaguely toward one of the doors on the far side of the room. \"I have no time to bother with you now.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Elayne kept her eyes on the floor as she trailed after Nynaeve and Egeanin, sweating, and not for the heat of the iron stoves and fireplaces." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A skinny woman in green silk not of Tarabon cut stood beside one of the wide tables, scratching the ears of a scrawny gray cat as it lapped cream from a porcelain dish. The cat named her, as well as her narrow face and wide nose. Marillin Gemalphin, once of the Brown Ajah, now of the Black. If she looked up from that cat, if she really became aware of them, there would be no need for channeling for her to know that two of them could; this close the woman would be able to sense the ability itself.\n\nSweat dripped from the end of Elayne's nose by the time she pushed the storeroom door shut behind her with a hip. \"Did you see her?\" she demanded in a low voice, letting her basket half-fall to the floor. Fretwork carved through the plastered wall just under the ceiling let in dim light from the kitchen. Rows of tall shelves filled the floor of the large room, laden with sacks and net bags of vegetables and large jars of spice. Barrels and casks stood everywhere, and a dozen dressed lambs and twice as many geese hung on hooks. According to the sketchy floorplan Domon and Thom had drawn between them, this was the smallest storeroom for food in the palace. \"This is disgusting,\" she said. \"I know Rendra keeps a full kitchen, but at least she buys what she needs as she can. These people have been feasting while-\"\n\n\"Hold your concern until you can do something about it,\" Nynaeve told her in a sharp whisper. She had upended her basket on the floor and was stripping off her rough farm woman's dress. Egeanin was already down to her shift. \"I did see her. If you want her to come inhere to see what the noise is about, keep talking.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Elayne sniffed, but let it pass." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She had not been making that much noise. Pulling off her own dress, she dumped the peppers out of her basket, and what had been hidden under them as well. Among other things, a dress of white belted in green, fine-spun wool embroidered above the left breast with a green tree of spreading branches atop the outline of a trefoil leaf. Her grimy veil was replaced by a clean one, of linen scraped nearly as sheer as silk. White slippers with padded soles were welcome on feet bruised by that walk from cart to kitchen.\n\nThe Seanchan woman had been the first out of her old clothes, but she was the last into her white garment, muttering all the while about'indecent\" and'serving girl,\" which made no sense. The dresses were servants' dresses; the whole point was that servants could go anywhere and a palace had too many for anyone to notice three more. And as for indecent... Elayne could remember being a touch hesitant about wearing the Tarabon style in public, but she had become used to it soon enough, and even this thin wool could not cling as silk did. Egeanin seemed to have very strict ideas of modesty.\n\nEventually, though, the woman had done up her last lace, and the farm clothes had been stuffed into the baskets and covered with ice peppers.\n\nMarillin Gemalphin was gone from the kitchen, though the raggedy-eared gray cat still lapped cream on the table. Elayne and the other two started for the door that led deeper into the palace.\n\nOne of the undercooks was frowning at the cat, fist on her ample hips. \"I would like to strangle this cat,\" she muttered, pale brown braids swinging as she shook her head angrily. \"It eats the cream, and because I put the drop of cream on the berries for my breakfast, I have the bread and water for my meals!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Count yourself lucky you are not out in the street, or swinging from the gallows.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The chief cook did not sound sympathetic. \"If a lady says you have stolen, then you have stolen, even if it is the cream for her cats, yes? You, there!\"\n\nElayne and her companions froze at the shout.\n\nThe dark-braided woman shook along wooden spoon at them. \"You come into my kitchen and stroll about as in the garden, you lazy sows you? You have come for the breakfast of the Lady Ispan, yes? If you do not have it there when she wakes, you will learn how to jump. Well?\" She gestured at the silver tray she had been laboring over before, covered now with a snowy linen cloth.\n\nThere was noway to speak; if anyone of them opened her mouth, her first words would show her no Taraboner. Thinking quickly, Elayne bobbed a servant's curtsy and picked up the tray; a servant carrying something was going about her work and not likely to be stopped or told to do something else. Lady Ispan? Not an uncommon name in Tarabon, but there was an Ispan on the list of Black sisters.\n\n\"So you mock me, do you, you little cow you?\" the stout woman roared, and started around the table waving her thick wooden spoon threateningly.\n\nThere was nothing to do without giving herself away; nothing but stay and be hit, or run. Elayne darted out of the kitchen with the tray, Nynaeve and Egeanin at her heels. The cook's shouts followed them, but not the cook, thankfully. An image of the three of them running through the palace pursued by the stout woman made Elayne want to giggle hysterically. Mock her? She was sure that had been exactly the same curtsy servants had given her thousands of times." }, { "from": "human", "value": "More storerooms lined the narrow hallway leading away from the kitchen, and tall cupboards for brooms and mops, buckets and soaps, linens for tables, and all sorts of assorted things." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nynaeve found a fat feather duster in one. Egeanin took an armful of folded towels from another, and a stout stone pestle out of a mortar in a third. She hid the pestle under the towels.\n\n\"A cudgel is sometimes handy,\" she said when Elayne raised an eyebrow. \"Especially when no one expects you to have it.\"\n\nNynaeve sniffed but said nothing. She had hardly acknowledged Egeanin at all since agreeing to her presence.\n\nDeeper in the palace the hallways broadened and heightened, the whitewalls carved with friezes and the ceilings set with gleaming arabesques of gold. Long, bright carpets ran along white-tiled floors. Ornate golden lamps on gilded stands gave light and the scent of perfumed oil. Sometimes the corridor opened into courtyards rounded by walks with slim, fluted columns, overlooked by balconies screened by filigreed stonework. Large fountains burbled; fish red and white and golden swam beneath lily pads with huge white flowers. Not at all like the city outside.\n\nOccasionally they saw other servants, men and women, in white, tree and leaf embroidered on one shoulder, hurrying about their tasks, or men in the gray coats and steel caps of the Civil Watch carrying staffs or cudgels. No one spoke to them or even looked twice, not at three serving women obviously at their work.\n\nAt last they came to the narrow servants' stairs marked on their sketchy map.\n\n\"Remember,\" Nynaeve said quietly, \"if there are guards on her door, leave. If she is not alone, leave. She is far from the most important reason we are here.\" She took a deep breath, making herself look at Egeanin. \"If you let anything happen to her-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A trumpet sounded faintly from outside. A moment later a gong rang inside, and shouted orders drifted down the hall. Men in steel caps appeared fora moment down the hallway, running.\n\n\"Maybe we will not have to worry about guards on her door,\" Elayne said. The riot had begun in the streets. Rumors spread by Thom and Juilin to gather the crowd. Domon's sailors to egg them on. She regretted the necessity, but the disturbance would pull most of the guards out of the palace, maybe all with luck. Those people out there did not know it, but they fought in a battle to save their city from the Black Ajah and the world from the Shadow. \"Egeanin should go with you, Nynaeve. Your part is the most important. If one of us needs someone to watch her back, it is you.\"\n\n\"I've no need fora Seanchan!\" Shouldering her duster like a pike, Nynaeve strode off down the hall. She really did not move like a servant. Not with that militant stride.\n\n\"Should we not be about our own task?\" Egeanin said. \"The riot will not hold attention completely for long.\"\n\nElayne nodded. Nynaeve had passed out of sight around a corner.\n\nThe stairs were narrow and hidden in the wall, to keep servants as unseen as possible. The corridors on the second floor were much as those on the first, except that double-pointed arches were almost as likely to give onto a stone-latticed balcony as onto a room. There seemed to be far fewer servants as they made their way to the west side of the palace, and none more than glanced at them. Wonderfully, the hallway outside the Panarch's apartments was empty. No guards in front of the wide, tree-carved doors set in a double-peaked frame. Not that she had meant to retreat had there been guards, no matter what she had told Nynaeve, but it did make things simpler." }, { "from": "human", "value": "A moment later she was not so sure." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She could feel someone channeling in those rooms. Not strong flows, but definitely the Power being woven, or maybe a weave maintained. Few women knew the trick of tying a weave.\n\n\"What is the matter?\" Egeanin asked.\n\nElayne realized she had stopped. \"One of the Black sisters is in there.\" One, or more? Only one channeling, certainly. She pressed close to the doors. A woman was singing in there. She put her ear to the carved wood, heard raucous words, muffled yet clearly understandable.\n\n\"My breasts are round, and my hips are too. I can flatten a whole ship's crew.\"\n\nStartled, she jerked back, porcelain dishes sliding on the tray under the cloth. Had she somehow come to the wrong room? No, she had memorized the sketch. Besides, in the entire palace the only doors carved with the tree led to the Panarch's apartments.\n\n\"Then we must leave her,\" Egeanin said. \"You can do nothing without warning the others of your presence.\"\n\n\"Perhaps I can. If they feel me channel, they will think it is whoever is in there.\" Frowning, she bit her lower lip. How many were there? She could do at least three or four things at once with the Power, something only Egwene and Nynaeve could match. She ran down a list of Andoran queens who had shown courage in the face of great danger, until she realized it was a list of all the queens of Andor. I will be queen one day; I can be as brave as they. Readying herself, she said, \"Throw open the doors, Egeanin, then drop down so I can see everything.\" The Seanchan woman hesitated. \"Throw open the doors.\" Elayne's own voice surprised her. She had not tried to make it anything, but it was quiet, calm, commanding. And Egeanin nodded, almost a bow, and immediately flung open both doors." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"My thighs are strong are strong as anchor chain. My kiss can burst-\"\n\nThe dark-braided singer, standing wrapped inflows of Air to her neck and a soiled, wrinkled Taraboner gown of red silk, cutoff short as the doors banged back. A frail-appearing woman, lounging in pale blue of a high-necked Cairhienin cut on along padded bench, ceased nodding her head to the song and leaped to her feet, outrage replacing the grin on her fox-shaped face.\n\nThe glow of saidar already surrounded Temaile, but she did not have a chance. Appalled at what she saw, Elayne embraced the True Source and lashed out hard with flows of Air, webbing her from shoulders to ankles, wove a shield of Spirit and slammed it between the woman and the Source. The glow around Temaile vanished, and she went flying across the bench as if she had been struck by a galloping horse, eyes rolling up into her head, to land unconscious on her back three paces away on the green-and-gold carpet. The dark-braided woman gave a start as the flows around her winked out of existence, felt at herself in wondering disbelief as she stared from Temaile to Elayne and Egeanin.\n\nTying off the weave holding Temaile, Elayne hurried into the room, eyes searching for others of the Black Ajah. Behind her, Egeanin closed the doors after them. There did not seem to be anyone else. \"Was she alone?\" she demanded of the woman in red. The Panarch, by Nynaeve's description. Nynaeve had mentioned something about a song.\n\n\"You are not... with them?\" Amathera said hesitantly, dark eyes taking in their dresses. \"You are Aes Sedai also?\" She seemed willing to doubt that despite the evidence of Temaile. \"But not with them?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Was she alone?\" Elayne snapped, and Amathera gave a little jump.\n\n\"Yes. Alone. Yes, she...\" The Panarch grimaced. \"The others made me sit on my throne and speak the words they put into my mouth. It amused them to make me sometimes give justice, and sometimes pronouncements of horrible injustice, rulings that will cause strife for generations if I cannot put them aright. But her!\" That full-lipped little mouth opened in a snarl. \"Her they set to watch over me. She hurts me for no reason except to make me weep. She made me eat an entire trayful of white ice peppers and would not let me drink a drop until I begged on my knees while she laughed! In my dreams she hoists me to the top of the Tower of Morning by my ankles and lets me fall. A dream, but it seems real, and each time she lets me fall screaming a little nearer the ground. And she laughs! She makes me learn lewd dances, and filthy songs, and laughs when she tells me that before they leave she will make me sing and dance to entertain the-\" With a shriek like a pouncing cat she threw herself across the bench onto the bound woman, slapping wildly, pummeling with her fists.\n\nEgeanin, arms folded in front of the doors, seemed ready to let it goon, but Elayne wove flows of Air around Amathera's waist. To her surprise she was able to lift her off the already senseless woman and set heron her feet. Perhaps learning how to handle those heavy weavings from Jorin had increased her strength.\n\nAmathera kicked at Temaile, turning her glare on Elayne and Egeanin when her slippered feet missed. \"I am the Panarch of Tarabon, and I mean to dispense justice to this woman!\" That rosebud mouth had a very sulky look. Had the woman no sense of herself, of her position? She was equal to the king, a ruler!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And I am the Aes Sedai who has come to rescue you,\" Elayne said coolly. Realizing she still held the tray, she set it on the floor hurriedly. The woman seemed to behaving enough trouble seeing beyond the white servants'dresses without that. Temaile's face was quite red; she would wake to bruises. No doubt fewer than she deserved. Elayne wished there was away to take Temaile with them. Away to bring even one to justice in the Tower. \"We have come-at considerable risk!-to take you out of here. Then you can reach the Lord Captain of the Panarch's Legion, and Andric and his army, and you can chase these women out. Perhaps we will be lucky enough to take some of them for trial. But first we must get you away from them.\"\n\n\"I do not need Andric,\" Amathera muttered. Elayne would have sworn she almost said'now.\" \"There are soldiers of my Legion around the palace. I know this. I have been allowed to speak to none of them, but once they see me, and hear my voice, they will do what must be done, yes? You Aes Sedai cannot use the One Power to harm...\" She trailed off, scowling at the unconscious Temaile. \"You cannot use it as a weapon, at least, yes? I know this.\"\n\nElayne surprised herself by weaving tiny flows of Air, one to each of Amathera's braids. The braids lifted straight up into the air, and the pouty-mouth fool had no choice but to follow them upon tiptoe. Elayne walked her that way, on tiptoe, until the woman stood right in front of her, dark eyes wide and indignant.\n\n\"You will listen tome, Panarch Amathera of Tarabon,\" she said in icy tones. \"If you try to walkout to your soldiers, Temaile's cronies may very well tie you up in a bundle and hand you back to her. Worse, they will learn that my friends and I are here, and that I will not allow. We are going to creep out of here, and if you will not agree to that, I'll bind and gag you and leave you beside Temaile for her friends to find.\" There had to be someway to take Temaile, too. \"Do you understand me?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Amathera nodded slightly, held up as she was." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Egeanin made an approving sound.\n\nElayne loosed the flows; the woman's heels dropped to the carpet. \"Now let's see if we can find you something to wear that is suitable for sneaking.\" Amathera nodded again, but her mouth was set at its sulkiest. Elayne hoped Nynaeve was having an easier time of it.\n\nNynaeve entered the great exhibition hall with its multitude of thin columns, feather duster already moving. This collection must always need dusting, and surely no one would look twice at a woman doing what was needed. She looked around, eyes drawn to wired-together bones that looked like along-legged horse with a neck that pushed its skull up twenty feet. The vast chamber stretched emptily in all directions.\n\nBut someone could come in at any moment; servants who actually had been sent to clean, or Liandrin and all of her fellows come to search. Still holding the duster prominently, just in case, she hurried down to the white stone pedestal that had held the dull black collar and bracelets. She did not realize she had been holding her breath until she exhaled on seeing the things still there. The glass-sided table holding the cuendillar seal lay another fifty paces on, but this came first.\n\nClimbing over the wrist-thick white silk rope, she touched the wide, jointed collar. Suffering. Agony. Woe. They rolled through her; she wanted to weep. What kind of thing could absorb all that pain? Pulling her hand back, she glared at the black metal. Meant to control a man who could channel. Liandrin and her Black sisters meant to use it to control Rand, turn him to the Shadow, force him to serve the Dark One. Someone from her village, controlled and used by Aes Sedai! Black Ajah, but Aes Sedai as surely as Moiraine with her scheming! Egeanin, making me like a filthy Seanchan!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The sudden incongruity of the last thought hither; abruptly she realized she was deliberately making herself angry, angry enough to channel. She embraced the Source; the Power filled her. And a serving woman with the tree-and-leaf on her shoulder entered the columned hall.\n\nQuivering with the urge to channel, Nynaeve waited, even lifting the duster, running the feathers over the collar and bracelets. The serving woman started down the pale floorstones; she would go in a moment, and Nynaeve could... What? Slip the things into her belt pouch and take them, but...\n\nThe serving woman would go? Why did I think she'll leave instead of staying to work? She glanced sideways up the room at the woman coming toward her. Of course. No broom or mop, no feather duster, not even a rag. Whatever she's here for, it cannot take lo-\n\nSuddenly she saw the woman's face clearly. Sturdily handsome, framed by dark braids, smiling in an almost friendly fashion but not really paying her any mind. Certainly not threatening in anyway. Not quite the same face, but she knew it.\n\nBefore thought she struck out, weaving a hammer-hard flow of Air to smash that face. In an instant the glow of saidar surrounded the other women, her features changed-somehow more regal now, prouder, Moghedien's face remembered; and startled as well, surprised that she had not approached unsuspected-and Nynaeve's flow was sliced razor clean. She staggered under the whiplash recoil, like a physical blow, and the Forsaken struck with a complex weave of Spirit streaked by Water and Air. Nynaeve had no idea what it was meant to do; frantically she tried to cut it as she had seen the other woman do, with a keen-edged weave of Spirit. Fora heartbeat she felt love, devotion, worship for the magnificent woman who would deign to allow her to..." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The intricate weave parted, and Moghedien missed a step. A tinge remained in Nynaeve's mind, like afresh memory of wanting to obey, to grovel and please, what had happened at their first meeting allover again; it heated her rage. The knife-sharp shield that Egwene had used to still Amico Nagoyin sprang into being, more weapon than shield, lashed at Moghedien-and was blocked, woven Spirit straining against woven Spirit, just short of severing Moghedien from the Source forever. Again the Forsaken's counterblow came, slashing like an axe, intended to cut Nynaeve off in the same way. Forever. Desperately Nynaeve blocked it.\n\nSuddenly she realized that under her anger she was terrified. Holding off the other woman's attempt to still her while trying to do the same to her took everything she had. The Power boiled in her till she thought she must burst; her knees quivered with the effort of standing. And all went into those two things; she could not spare enough to light a candle. Moghedien's axe of Spirit waxed and waned in sharpness, but that would not matter if the woman managed to drive it home; Nynaeve could not see any real difference in outcome between being stilled by the woman and merely-merely!-being shielded and at her mercy. The thing brushed against the flow of Power from the Source into her, like a knife hovering over a chicken's stretched neck. The image was all too apt; she wished she had not thought of it. In the back of her mind a tiny voice gibbered at her. Oh, Light, don't let her. Don't let her! Light, please, not that!\n\nFora moment she considered letting go her own attempt to cut Moghedien off-for one thing, she had to keep forcing it back to a razor edge; the woven flows did not want to hold the keenness-letting go and using that strength to force Moghedien's attack further back, maybe sever it. But if she tried, the other woman would not need to defend; she could add that strength to her own attack. And she was one of the Forsaken. Not just a Black sister. A woman who had been Aes Sedai in the Age of Legends, when Aes Sedai had been able to do things undreamed of now. If Moghedien threw her whole strength at her..." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Move the story forward as the writer's assistant.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, prophecy\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: The Shadow Rising\nChapter: 55" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The intricate weave parted, and Moghedien missed a step. A tinge remained in Nynaeve's mind, like afresh memory of wanting to obey, to grovel and please, what had happened at their first meeting allover again; it heated her rage. The knife-sharp shield that Egwene had used to still Amico Nagoyin sprang into being, more weapon than shield, lashed at Moghedien-and was blocked, woven Spirit straining against woven Spirit, just short of severing Moghedien from the Source forever. Again the Forsaken's counterblow came, slashing like an axe, intended to cut Nynaeve off in the same way. Forever. Desperately Nynaeve blocked it.\n\nSuddenly she realized that under her anger she was terrified. Holding off the other woman's attempt to still her while trying to do the same to her took everything she had. The Power boiled in her till she thought she must burst; her knees quivered with the effort of standing. And all went into those two things; she could not spare enough to light a candle. Moghedien's axe of Spirit waxed and waned in sharpness, but that would not matter if the woman managed to drive it home; Nynaeve could not see any real difference in outcome between being stilled by the woman and merely-merely!-being shielded and at her mercy. The thing brushed against the flow of Power from the Source into her, like a knife hovering over a chicken's stretched neck. The image was all too apt; she wished she had not thought of it. In the back of her mind a tiny voice gibbered at her. Oh, Light, don't let her. Don't let her! Light, please, not that!\n\nFora moment she considered letting go her own attempt to cut Moghedien off-for one thing, she had to keep forcing it back to a razor edge; the woven flows did not want to hold the keenness-letting go and using that strength to force Moghedien's attack further back, maybe sever it. But if she tried, the other woman would not need to defend; she could add that strength to her own attack. And she was one of the Forsaken. Not just a Black sister. A woman who had been Aes Sedai in the Age of Legends, when Aes Sedai had been able to do things undreamed of now. If Moghedien threw her whole strength at her..." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A man who came in then, or any woman unable to channel, would have seen only two women facing each other across the white silk rope from a distance of less than ten feet. Two women staring atone another in avast hall full of strange things. They would have seen nothing to say it was a duel. No leaping about and hacking with swords as men would do, nothing smashed or broken. Just two women standing there. But a duel all the same, and maybe to the death. Against one of the Forsaken.\n\n\"All my careful planning ruined,\" Moghedien said abruptly in a tight, angry voice, white-knuckled hands gripping her skirts. \"At the very least I shall have to go to untold effort to put everything back as it was. It may not be possible. Oh, I do mean to make you pay for that, Nynaeve al'Meara. This has been such a cozy hiding place, and those blind women have a number of very useful items in their possession even if they do not-\" She shook her head, lips peeling back to bare her teeth in a snarl. \"I think I will take you with me this time. I know. I shall keep you fora live mounting block. You will be brought out to kneel on all fours so I can step from your back to my saddle. Or perhaps I shall give you to Rahvin. He always repays favors. He does have a pretty little queen to amuse him now, but pretty women were always Rahvin's weakness. He likes to have two or three or four at once dancing attendance on him. How will you like that? To spend the rest of your life competing for Rahvin's favors. You will want to, once he has his hands on you; he has his little tricks. Yes, I do believe Rahvin shall have you.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Anger welled up in Nynaeve. Sweat streamed down her face, and her legs shook as if they might give way, but anger gave her strength. Furious, she managed to push her weapon of Spirit a hair closer to severing Moghedien from the Source before the woman halted it again.\n\n\"So you discovered that little gem behind you,\" Moghedien said in a moment of precarious balance. Surprisingly, her voice was almost conversational. \"I wonder how you did that. It does not matter. Did you come to take it away? Perhaps to destroy it? You cannot destroy it. That is not metal, but a form of cuendillar. Even balefire cannot destroy cuendillar. And if you mean to use it, it does have... drawbacks, shall we say? Put the collar on a man who channels, and a woman wearing the bracelets can make him do whatever she wishes, true, but it will not stop him going mad, and there is a flow the other way, too. Eventually he will begin to be able to control you, too, so you end with a struggle at every hour. Not very palatable when he is going mad. Of course, you can pass the bracelets around, so no one has too much exposure, but that does mean trusting someone else with him. Men are always so good at violence; they make wonderful weapons. Or two women can each wear one bracelet, if you have someone you trust enough; that slows the seepage considerably, I understand, but it also lessens your control, even if you work in perfect unison. Eventually, you will find yourselves in a struggle for control with him, each of you needing him to remove your bracelet as surely as he needs you to remove the collar.\" She tilted her head, lifted a quizzical eyebrow. \"You are following this, I trust? Controlling Lews Therin-Rand al'Thor as he is called now-would be most useful, but is it worth the price? You can see why I have left the collar and bracelets where they are.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Trembling to contain the Power, to hold her woven flows, Nynaeve frowned. Why was the woman telling her all of this? Did she think it did not matter because she was going to win? Why her sudden change from rage to talk? There was sweat on Moghedien's face, too. Quite a lot of sweat, beading on her broad forehead, running down her cheeks.\n\nSuddenly everything changed in Nynaeve's mind. Moghedien's was not a voice tight with anger; it was a voice tight with strain. Moghedien was not suddenly going to hurl all of her strength at her; she already was. The woman was putting out as much effort as she. She was facing one of the Forsaken, and far from being plucked like a goose for supper, she had not lost a feather. She was meeting one of the Forsaken, strength for strength! Moghedien was trying to distract her, to gain an opening before her own strength gave out! If only she could do the same. Before her strength went.\n\n\"Do you wonder how I know all this? The collar and bracelets were made after I was... Well, we will not talk of that. Once I was free, the first thing I did was seek information about those last days. Last years, really. There area good many fragments here and there that make no sense to anyone who does not have some idea to begin with. The Age of Legends. Such a quaint name you have given my time. Yet even your wildest tales no more than hint at the half. I had lived over two hundred years when the Bore was opened, and I was still young, for an Aes Sedai. Your \"legends\" are but pale imitations of what we could do. Why...\"\n\nNynaeve stopped listening. Away to distract the woman. Even if she could think of something to say, Moghedien would be on her guard against the method she herself was using. She could not spare effort for as much as a thread-thin weave, anymore than... anymore than Moghedien could. A woman from the Age of Legends, a woman long used to wielding the One Power. Perhaps used to doing almost everything with the Power before she was imprisoned. In hiding since being freed, how used to doing things without the Power had she become?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nynaeve let her legs sag. Dropping the feather duster, she caught hold of the pedestal to support herself. There was very little fakery needed.\n\nMoghedien smiled and took a step nearer. \"... travel to other worlds, even worlds in the sky. Do you know that the stars are...\" So sure, that smile. So triumphant.\n\nNynaeve seized the collar, ignoring the joltingly pained emotions that spilled into her, and hurled it, all in one motion.\n\nThe Forsaken had only begun to gape when the wide black circlet struck her between the eyes. Not a hard blow, certainly not enough to stun, but not expected, either. Moghedien's control over her woven flows faltered, just slightly, only for an instant. Yet for that instant the balance between them shifted. The shield of Spirit slid between Moghedien and the Source; the halo surrounding her winked out.\n\nThe woman's eyes bulged. Nynaeve expected her to leap for her throat; that was what she would have done. Instead, Moghedien jerked her skirts to her knees and ran.\n\nWith no need to defend herself, it took only a little effort for Nynaeve to weave Air around the fleeing woman. The Forsaken froze in midstride.\n\nHurriedly Nynaeve tied her weaving. She had done it. I faced one of the Forsaken and beat her, she thought incredulously. Looking at the woman held from the neck down by air with the consistency of stone, even seeing her leaning forward on one foot, it was hard to believe. Examining what she had done, she saw it had not been as complete a victory as she had wanted. The shield had blurred its sharp edge before it slid home. Moghedien was captured and shielded, but not stilled." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Trying not to totter, she walked around in front of the other woman. Moghedien still looked queenly, but like a very frightened queen, licking her lips, eyes darting wildly. \"If... if you f-free me, we can c-come to s-some arrangement. There ism-much I cant-teach you-\"\n\nRuthlessly Nynaeve cut her off, weaving a gag of Air that held the woman's jaws gaping. \"Alive mounting block. Wasn't that what you said? I think that is a very good idea. I like to ride.\" She smiled at the woman, whose eyes looked to becoming out of her head.\n\nMounting block indeed! Once Moghedien had been put on trial in the Tower and stilled-there could be no doubt of the sentence for one of the Forsaken-she would surely be put to some useful work in kitchens or gardens or stables, except when she was brought out to show that even the Forsaken could not escape justice, and treated no differently from any other servant, beyond being watched. But let her think Nynaeve was as cruel as she. Let her think it until she was actually put on...\n\nNynaeve's mouth twisted. Moghedien was not going to be put on trial. Not now, anyway. Not unless she could figure out someway to get her out of the Panarch's. Palace. The woman seemed to believe the grimace portended something ill for her; tears leaked from her eyes, and her mouth worked, trying to force words past the gag.\n\nDisgusted with herself, Nynaeve walked unsteadily back to where the black collar lay, stuffing it quickly into her belt pouch before the stark emotions in it could do more than touch her. The bracelets followed, with the same feelings of suffering and sorrow. I was ready to torture her by letting her think I would! She deserves it surely, but that is not me. Or is it? Am I no better than Egeanin?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She jerked around, furious that she could even consider such a question, and stalked past Moghedien to the glass-walled table. There had to be someway to bring the woman to justice.\n\nThere were seven figurines in the case. Seven, and no seal.\n\nFora moment she could only stare. One of the figures, an odd animal shaped roughly like a pig but with a large round snout and feet as wide as its thick legs, stood where the seal had, in the center of the table. Suddenly her eyes narrowed. It was not really there; the thing was woven from Air and Fire, inflows so minute they made cobwebs seem cables. Even concentrating, she could barely see them. She doubted if Liandrin or any of the other Black sisters could have. A tiny, slicing flick of the Power, and the fat animal vanished, in its place the black-and-white seal on its red-lacquered stand. Moghedien, the hider, had hidden it in plain sight. Fire melted a hole in the glass, and the seal went into her pouch, too. It bulged now, and pulled her belt down.\n\nFrowning at the woman poised on the toe of one slipper, she tried to think of some means of taking her as well. But Moghedien would not fit in her pouch, and she rather thought that even if she could pick the other woman up, the sight might raise a few eyebrows. Still, as she made her way to the nearest arched doorway, she could not help looking back every other step. If only there was someway. Pausing for one last, regretful look from the doorway, she turned to go.\n\nThis door opened onto a courtyard with a fountain full of lilypads. On the other side of the fountain, a slim, coppery-skinned woman in a pale cream Taraboner dress that would have made Rendra blush was just raising a fluted black rod apace in length. Nynaeve recognized Jeaine Caide. More, she recognized the rod." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Desperately she flung herself to one side, so hard that she slid along the smooth white floorstones until one of the thin columns stopped her with ajar. A leg-thick bar of white shot through where she had been standing, as if the air had turned to molten metal, slicing all the way across the exhibition hall; where it struck, pieces simply vanished out of columns, priceless artifacts ceased to exist. Hurling flows of Fire behind her blindly, hoping to strike something, anything, in the courtyard, Nynaeve scrambled away across the hall on hands and knees. Little more than waist-high, the bar sawed sideways, carving a swathe through both walls; between, cases and cabinets and wired skeletons collapsed and crashed. Severed columns quivered; some fell, but what dropped onto that terrible sword did not survive to smash displays and pedestals to the floor. The glass-walled table fell before the molten shaft vanished, leaving a purplish bar that seemed burned into Nynaeve's vision; the cuendillar figures were all that dropped out of that molten white shaft, bouncing on the floor.\n\nThe figurines did not break, of course. It seemed Moghedien was right; not even balefire could destroy cuendillar. That black rod was one of the stolen ter'angreal. Nynaeve could remember the warning appended to their list in a firm hand. Produces balefire. Dangerous and almost impossible to control.\n\nMoghedien seemed to be trying to scream through her invisible gag, head whipping back and forth in a frenzy as she fought her bonds of Air, but Nynaeve spared her no more than a glance. As soon as the balefire disappeared, she raised herself up enough to peer back across the hall, through the rent sawed along the chamber wall. Beside the fountain, Jeaine Caide was swaying, one hand to her head, the black rod almost falling from the other. But before Nynaeve could strike at her, she had clutched the fluted rod again; balefire burst from its end, destroying everything in its path through the chamber." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dropping almost to her belly, Nynaeve crawled the other way as fast as she could, amid the crash and clatter of falling columns and masonry. Panting, she pulled herself into a corridor slashed through both walls. There was no telling how far the balefire had sliced; all the way out of the palace, perhaps. Twisting about on a carpet littered with bits of stone, she peeked cautiously around the side of the doorframe.\n\nThe balefire had gone again. Silence held in the ruined exhibition hall, except when a weakened piece of stonework gave way and smashed to the rubble-strewn floor. There was no sign of Jeaine Caide, though enough of the far wall had fallen to show the fountained courtyard clearly. She was not about to risk going to see if the ter'angreal had killed the woman in using it. Her breath came raggedly, and her arms and legs trembled enough that she was glad to lie there a moment. Channeling took energy the same as any other work; the more you did, the more energy. And the wearier you were, the less you could channel. She was not entirely certain she herself was up to facing even a weakened Jeaine Caide right then.\n\nSuch a fool she had been. Battling Moghedien with the Power, and never thinking that channeling that strong would have every Black sister in the palace jumping out of her skin. She was lucky the Domani woman had not arrived with her ter'angreal while she was still absorbed with the Forsaken. They very likely both would have died before they knew she was there.\n\nSuddenly she stared in disbelief. Moghedien was gone! The balefire had not come nearer than ten feet from where she had stood, but she was not there any longer. It was impossible. She had been shielded." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"How do I know what's impossible?\" Nynaeve muttered. \"It was impossible for me to beat one of the Forsaken, but I did it.\"\n\nStill no sign of Jeaine Caide.\n\nPushing herself to her feet, she hurried for the appointed meeting place. If only Elayne had not run into any trouble, they might make it out here safely after all." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Servants boiled along the halls as Nynaeve ran, shouting frantic questions. They might not be able to sense channeling, but they had certainly felt the palace being torn half apart. She threaded her way through, just one more serving woman in a panic as far as they were concerned.\n\nSaidar faded from her as she sped down corridors and across courtyards. Holding onto anger was difficult when she was increasingly uneasy for Elayne. If the Black sisters had found her... Who knew what they had beside the balefire ter'angreal? The list they had been given certainly did not give a use for everything.\n\nOnce she saw Liandrin, with her pale honey braids, and Rianna, with that white streak in her black hair, hurrying down a flight of broad marble stairs; she could not seethe glow of saidar around them, but from the way servants cried out and leaped from their path, they were whipping away clear for themselves with the Power. It made her glad she had not tried to cling to the Source herself; they would have picked her out of the throng in an instant by the glow, and until she had some rest, she was not up to facing either of them, much less both. She had what she had come for. They had to wait.\n\nThe crowd thinned and disappeared by the time she reached the narrow hall on the west side of the palace that was the meeting place. The others were waiting for her beside a small, bronze-studded door fastened with a large iron lock. Including Amathera, standing very straight, wearing alight linen cloak with the hood up. The Panarch's white dress might pass for serving-woman garb if you did not look closely enough to see it was silk, and the veil that did not hide her face was certainly servant's linen. The sound of shouts came muffled through the door. Apparently the riot was still going on. Now if only the men were doing the rest of their part." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ignoring Egeanin, Nynaeve threw her arms around Elayne in a quick hug. \"I was so worried. Did you have any trouble?\"\n\n\"Not a bit,\" Elayne replied. Egeanin shifted slightly, and the younger woman gave her a meaningful look, then added, \"Amathera did cause a little problem, but we sorted it out.\"\n\nNynaeve frowned. \"Trouble? Why would she give trouble? Why would you give trouble?\" That last was for the Panarch, who held her head high, refusing to look at anyone. Elayne seemed as reluctant.\n\nIt was the Seanchan woman who answered. \"She tried to sneak off to rouse her soldiers to harry the Darkfriends out. After she had been warned.\" Nynaeve refused to look at her.\n\n\"Do not scowl so, Nynaeve,\" Elayne said. \"I chased her down quickly, and we had a little talk. I think she is in perfect agreement with me now.\"\n\nThe Panarch's cheek twitched, \"I am in agreement, Aes Sedai,\" she said hastily. \"I will do exactly as you say, and I will provide papers that should make even the rebels let you pass unhindered. There is no need for more... talking.\"\n\nElayne nodded as if all of that made sense, motioning for the women to be quiet. Whereupon the Panarch obediently closed her mouth. A trifle sullenly, but perhaps that was just the shape of her mouth. Clearly there had been some very odd goings on, and Nynaeve intended to find the bottom of them. Later. The narrow hallway was still empty in both directions, but panicked shouts still echoed from deeper in the palace. The mob rumbled beyond the small door." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But what of you?\" Elayne went on with a frown. \"You were supposed to be here half an hour ago. Did you cause all of this? I felt two women channeling enough of the Power to shake the palace down, and then a bit later someone did try to shake it down. I thought it must be you. I had to restrain Egeanin from going to find you.\"\n\nEgeanin? Nynaeve hesitated, then made herself touch the Seanchan woman's shoulder. \"Thank you.\" Egeanin looked as though she did not quite understand herself what she had done, but she gave a quick nod. \"Moghedien found me, and because I was worrying about how to bring her out for trial, Jeaine Caide nearly took my head off with balefire.\" Elayne gave a small squeak, and she hurried to reassure her. \"It didn't really come close tome.\"\n\n\"You captured Moghedien? You captured one of the Forsaken?\"\n\n\"Yes, but she got away.\" There. She had admitted everything. Conscious of all their eyes on her, she shifted uncomfortably. She did not like being in the wrong. She especially did not like being in the wrong when it was she who had pointed out that it was wrong in the first place. \"Elayne, I know what I said about being careful, but once I had her in my hands, it seemed all I could think of was bringing her to trial.\" Taking a deep breath, Nynaeve made her voice apologetic. She hated doing that. Where were those fool men? \"I endangered everything because I didn't keep my mind on what we were about, but please don't scold me.\"\n\n\"I won't,\" Elayne said firmly. \"So long as you remember to be careful in the future.\" Egeanin cleared her throat. \"Oh, yes,\" Elayne added hastily. The waiting seemed to begetting to her; there were spots of color in her cheeks. \"Did you find the collar, and the seal?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I have them.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She patted her pouch. The shouting outside seemed to begetting louder. And the shouts echoing down the halls were, too. Liandrin must be turning the palace upside down to find out what had happened. \"What is keeping those men?\"\n\n\"My Legion,\" Amathera began. Elayne looked at her, and she snapped her mouth shut. Whatever talk they had had must have been something. The Panarch was pouting like a girl afraid of being sent to bed without supper.\n\nNynaeve glanced at Egeanin. The Seanchan woman was watching the door intently. She had wanted to come after her. Why won't she let me hate her? Am I so different from her?\n\nSuddenly the door swung open. Juilin pulled two thin bent metal rods out of the lock and straightened from a crouch. Blood ran down the side of his face. \"Hurry. We must be away from here before it gets out of hand.\"\n\nStaring past him wide-eyed, Nynaeve wondered what he considered out of hand. Bayle Domon's sailors, at least three hundred of them, formed a semicircle two deep about the door, Domon himself waving a cudgel, shouting to encourage them. He had to shout for the roar that filled the wide street. Men jostled and struggled and shouted in a seething mass, barely held back by the sailors\" clubs and staffs. Not that they were really interested in the sailors. Scattered through the crowd, clumps of mounted Whitecloaks swung their swords at men crowding them with pitchforks and barrel staves and bare hands. Showers of stones fell around them, sometimes banging off a helmet, but silently in the uproar. Alone Whitecloak's horse suddenly screamed and reared, and toppled over backward; it scrambled to its feet quickly, minus its rider. Other riderless animals dotted the mass of men. Was this what they had set off just to cover themselves? She tried reminding herself why-put her hand on her pouch to feel the cuendillar seal, the collar and bracelets-but it was hard. Men were dying out there, surely." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Will you women move?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Thom called, waving for them to come out. He had a bleeding gash over one bushy eyebrow, perhaps from a stone, and his brown cloak would not even do for the ragbag now. \"If the Panarch's Legion ever stops running, this could grow messy.\"\n\nAmathera made a startled sound, just before Elayne pushed her firmly out. Nynaeve and Egeanin followed, and as soon as all four women were out, the sailors folded in around them in a tight ring that began straggling away from the palace. It was all Nynaeve could do to keep her feet, jostled by the men who were trying to protect her. Once Egeanin slipped and nearly fell. Nynaeve caught her arm, helped her backup, and got a grateful grin. We are not so different, she thought. Not the same, but not all that different. She did not have to make herself smile encouragingly at the Seanchan woman.\n\nThe milling mass lasted several streets away from the palace, but once they broke clear the narrow twisting ways were almost empty. Those who were not actually involved in the riot seemed wise enough to stay clear of it. The sailors spread out a little, giving the women more room. Any straggler who looked in their direction got hard stares, though. The streets of Tanchico were still the streets of Tanchico. Somehow that surprised Nynaeve. It seemed that she had been weeks inside the palace. Surely the city should be different.\n\nWhen the babble began to fade behind them, Thom managed a quite elegant bow to Amathera as he limped along. \"An honor, Panarch,\" he said. \"If I maybe of any service, you have only to speak.\"\n\nShockingly, Amathera glanced at Elayne, grimaced slightly, and said, \"You mistake me, good sir. I am only a poor refugee from the countryside, rescued by these good women.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Thom exchanged startled looks with Juilin and Domon, but when he opened his mouth, Elayne said, \"Could we get onto the inn, Thom? This is hardly the place for conversation.\"\n\nWhen they reached the Three Plum Court, it was scarcely less surprising to hear Elayne introduce the Panarch to Rendra as Thera, a refugee with no money who needed a pallet, and maybe some work to earn her meals. The innkeeper shrugged resignedly, but as she led'Thera\" away to the kitchens she was already telling the woman what lovely hair she had and how pretty she would look in the right dress.\n\nNynaeve waited until the rest of them were in the Chamber of Falling Blossoms with the door closed before saying, \"Thera? And she went along! Elayne, Rendra will have the woman serving at table in the common room!\"\n\nElayne did not seem surprised. \"Yes, very likely.\" Sinking into a chair with a sigh, she kicked off her slippers and began massaging her feet vigorously. \"It was not difficult to convince Amathera she should stay in hiding fora few days. It really isn't that far from'The Panarch is dead'to'Death to the Panarch. \"I think seeing the riot helped, too. She doesn't want to depend on Andric to put her back on her throne; she wants her own soldiers to do it, even if it means hiding until she can get in touch with the Lord Captain of the Legion. I believe Andric is in fora surprise with her. It is too bad he doesn't surprise her. She deserves it.\" Domon and Juilin exchanged glances, shook, their heads uncomprehendingly. Egeanin nodded to herself as if she, at least, understood, and approved." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But why?\" Nynaeve demanded. \"You may have been upset because she sneaked off on her own, but this? How did she manage that anyway, with two of you watching her?\" Egeanin's eyes flickered toward Elayne, so quickly Nynaeve was not sure she had really seen it.\n\nElayne bent to rub the sole of one foot. It must have hurt; there was red in her cheeks. \"Nynaeve, the woman has no idea what the lives of the common people are like.\" As if she did! \"She does seem to have a true concern for justice-I think she does-yet it did not bother her at all that there was enough food in the palace fora year. I mentioned the soup kitchens, and she did not know what I was talking about! A few days working for her supper will do her good.\" Stretching her legs under the table, she worked her bare toes. \"Oh, that does feelgood. Not that she'll have many, I suppose. Not if she is to rally the Panarch's Legion to pry Liandrin and the others out of the palace. A pity, but there it is.\"\n\n\"Well, she has to,\" Nynaeve told her firmly. It was good to sit down, though she could not understand the girl's concern with her feet. They had hardly walked at all today. \"And the sooner the better. We need the Panarch, and not in Rendra's kitchen.\" She did not think there was any need to worry about Moghedien. That woman had had every opportunity to come into the open, after she had freed herself. That still puzzled her; she must have been careless in tying off the shield. But if Moghedien had been unwilling to face her then, when she must have known Nynaeve was nearly exhausted, she could not think the woman would come after them. Not for something she seemed to think was not worth very much. The same did not apply to Liandrin, however. If Liandrin figured out half of what had happened, she would be hunting them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The justice of the Daughter-Heir,\" Thom murmured, \"may yet supersede the justice of the Panarch. There were men streaming in through that door as we left, and I think some had already got in the front. I saw smoke coming out of several windows. By tonight, little more than afire-gutted ruin will remain. No need for soldiers to chase the Black Ajah, and thus \"Thera\" can have her few days to learn the lesson you want to teach. You will make a fine queen one day, Elayne of Andor.\"\n\nElayne's pleased smile faded as she looked at him. Rising to pad around the table, she rummaged in his coat pockets fora kerchief and began dabbing blood from his forehead despite his protests. \"Hold still,\" she told him, sounding for all the world like a mother tending an unruly child.\n\n\"Could we at least see what we risked our necks for?\" he said when it became clear Elayne was going to do exactly as she wished.\n\nOpening her belt pouch, Nynaeve laid the contents out on the table, the black-and-white disc that helped hold the Dark One's prison shut, the collar and bracelets that sent ripples of sorrow through her before she could lay them down. Everyone gathered close to stare.\n\nDomon fingered the seal. \"I did own a thing like this once.\"\n\nNynaeve doubted it. Only seven had been made. Three were broken now, cuendillar or no. Another was in Moiraine's hands. Four surviving. How well could four keep that prison at Shayol Ghul locked? A shivery thought.\n\nEgeanin touched the collar, pushed the bracelets away from the collar. If she felt the emotions trapped in them, she did not show it. Perhaps that sensitivity came only with the ability to channel. \"It is not an a'dam,\" the Seanchan woman said. \"That is made of a silvery metal, and all of one piece.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nynaeve wished she had not mentioned a'dam. But she never wore the bracelet of one. And she did let that poor woman she told us about go. Poor woman. She-this Bethamin-was the one who controlled women with an a'dam. Egeanin had showed more mercy than Nynaeve would have. \"It is as least as much like an a'dam as you and I are alike, Egeanin.\" The woman looked startled, but after a moment she nodded. Not so different. Two women, each doing the best she could.\n\n\"Do you mean to keep on pursuing Liandrin?\" Juilin seated himself, arms folded on the table, studying the things there. \"Whether or not she is chased out of Tanchico, she is still out there. And the others. But these seem too important to leave lying about. I am only a thief-catcher, but I would say these must betaken to the White Tower for safekeeping.\"\n\n\"No!\" Nynaeve was startled at her own vehemence. So were the others, by the way they stared at her. Slowly she picked up the seal and replaced it in her pouch. \"This goes to the Tower. But that...\" She did not want to touch the black things again. If those were in the Tower, Aes Sedai might decide to use them just as the Black Ajah had intended to. To control Rand. Would Moiraine? Siuan Sanche? She would not take the chance. \"That is too dangerous to risk it ever falling back into the hands of Darkfriends. Elayne, can you destroy them? Melt them. I don't care if they burn through the table. Just destroy them!\"\n\n\"I see what you mean,\" Elayne said with a grimace. Nynaeve doubted she did-Elayne believed in the Tower wholeheartedly-but she believed in Rand, too." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Nynaeve could not seethe glow of saidar, of course, but the intent way the girl stared at the vile objects told her she was channeling." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The bracelets and necklace lay there. Elayne frowned; her stare became more intent. Abruptly she shook her head. Her hand poised hesitantly fora moment, close to one of the bracelets, before picking it up. And dropped it again, with a gasp. \"It feels... It's full of...\" Drawing a deep breath, she said, \"I did what you asked, Nynaeve. A hammer would be burning a puddle for the Fire I wove into it, but it isn't even warm.\"\n\nSo Moghedien had not lied. Doubtless she had thought there was no need, that she would surely win. How did the woman get loose? But what to do with the things? She was not going to let them fall into anyone's hands.\n\n\"Master Domon, do you know a very deep part of the sea?\"\n\n\"I do, Mistress al'Meara,\" he said slowly.\n\nGingerly, trying not to feel the emotions, Nynaeve shoved the collar and bracelets across the table to him. \"Then drop these into it, where no one can ever fish them out again.\"\n\nAfter a moment, he nodded. \"I will.\" He stuffed them into his coat pocket hurriedly, clearly disliking to touch something that must have to do with the Power. \"In the deepest part of the sea I do know, near the Aile Somera.\"\n\nEgeanin was frowning at the floor, no doubt thinking about the Illianer leaving. Nynaeve had not forgotten the woman calling him'a properly set-up man.\" She herself felt like laughing. It was all but done. As soon as Domon could sail, the hateful collar and bracelets would begone forever. They could leave for Tar Valon. And then... Then back to Tear, or wherever al'Lan Mandragoran was. Facing Moghedien, realizing how close she had been to being killed or worse, only made her urgency to deal with him greater. A man she had to share with a woman she hated, but if Egeanin could look fondly on a man she once took prisoner-and Domon was certainly eyeing her with interest-and if Elayne could love a man who would go mad, then she could puzzle out someway to enjoy what she could have of Lan." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Shall we go downstairs and see how \"Thera\" is taking to being a servant?\" she suggested. Soon for Tar Valon. Soon." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The common room of the Winespring Inn was silent but for the scratch of Perrin's pen. Silent, and empty but for him and Aram. Late-morning light made small pools beneath the windows. No cooking smells came from the kitchen; there were no fires lit anywhere in the village, and even coals banked in ashes had been doused. No point in giving the gift of fire easy to hand. The Tinker-he sometimes wondered whether it was proper to think of Aram that way any longer, but a man could not stop being what he was, sword or no-stood against the wall by the front door, watching Perrin. What did the man expect? What did he want? Dipping his pen in the small stone ink jar, Perrin set aside the third sheet of paper and began a fourth.\n\nPushing through the door, bow in hand, Ban al'Seen rubbed an uneasy finger up and down his big nose. \"The Aiel are back,\" he said quietly, but his feet moved as if he could not make them be still. \"Trollocs coming, from north and south. Thousands of them, Lord Perrin.\"\n\n\"Don't call me that,\" Perrin said absently, frowning at the page. He had noway with words. He certainly did not know how to say things in the fancy way women liked. All he could was write what he felt. Dipping the pen again, he added a few lines.\n\nI will not ask your forgiveness for what I did. I do not know if you could give it, but I will not ask. You are more precious tome than life. Never think I have abandoned you. When the sun shines on you, it is my smile. When you hear the breeze stir through the apple blossoms, it is my whisper that I love you. My love is yours forever." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Perrin\n\nFora moment he studied what he had written. It did not say enough, but it would have to do. He did not have the right words anymore than he had time.\n\nCarefully blotting the damp ink with sand, he folded the pages together. He very nearly wrote'Faile Bashere\" on the outside before making it'Faile Aybara.\" He realized he did not even know if a wife took her husband's name in Saldaea; there were places where they did not. Well, she had married him in the Two Rivers; she would have to put up with Two Rivers customs.\n\nHe placed the letter in the middle of the mantel over the fireplace-perhaps it would reach her eventually-and adjusted the wide red marriage ribbon behind his collar so it hung down his lapels properly. He was supposed to wear it for seven days, an announcement to everyone who saw him that he was newlywed. \"I will try,\" he told the letter softly. Faile had tried to tie one in his beard; he wished he had let her.\n\n\"Pardon, Lord Perrin?\" Ban said, still shifting his feet anxiously. \"I didn't hear.\" Aram was chewing his lip, his eyes wide and frightened.\n\n\"Time to see to the day's work,\" Perrin said. Perhaps the letter would reach her. Somehow. He took his bow from the table and slung it on his back. Axe and quiver already hung at his belt. \"And don't call me that!\"\n\nIn front of the inn, the Companions were gathered on their horses, Wil al'Seen with that fool wolfhead banner, the long staff resting on his stirrup iron. How long since Wil had refused to carry the thing? The survivors of those who had joined him the first day jealously guarded the right, now. Wil, with his bow on his back and a sword at his hip, looked proud as an idiot." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As Ban scrambled into his saddle, Perrin heard him say, \"The man is as cool as a winter pond. Like ice. Maybe it won't be so bad today.\" He barely paid attention. The women were gathered on the Green.\n\nThey made a circle five or six deep around the tall pole where the larger red wolfhead flapped out in a breeze. Five or six deep, shoulder to shoulder, with polearms made from scythes and pitchforks, and wood-axes, and even stout kitchen knives and cleavers.\n\nThroat tight, he mounted Stepper and rode toward them. The children were a tight mass inside the circle of women. All the children in Emond's Field.\n\nRiding slowly along the ranks, he felt the women's eyes following him, and the children's. Fear scent, and worry; the children showed it on their too-palefaces, but all smelled of it. He reined in where Marin al'Vere and Daise Congar and the rest of the Women's Circle stood together. Alsbet Luhhan had one of her husband's hammers on her shoulder, and her Whitecloak helmet acquired the night of her rescue sat slightly crooked because of her thick braid. Neysa Ayellin held along-bladed carving knife firm in her hand, and had two more stuck behind her belt.\n\n\"We have planned this out,\" Daise said, looking up at him as if she expected an argument and did not intend to allow it. She held a pitchfork, fastened to a pole nearly three feet taller than she, upright in front of her. \"If the Trollocs breakthrough anywhere, you men are going to be busy, so we will take the children out. The older ones know what to do, and they've all played hide-and-seek in the woods. Just to keep them safe until they can come out.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "The older ones." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Boys and girls of thirteen and fourteen had toddlers strapped on their backs, and held smaller children by the hand. Girls older than that stood in the ranks with the women; Bode Cauthon had a wood-axe gripped in both hands, her sister Eldrin a boar spear with abroad point. Boys older were outwith the men, or upon the thatched rooftops with their bows. The Tinkers were in with the children. Perrin glanced down at Aram, standing by his stirrup. They would not fight, but each adult had two babes fastened on his or her back and another cradled in the crook of an elbow. Raen and Ila, each with an arm around the other, would not look at him. Just to keep them safe until they could come out.\n\n\"I'm sorry.\" He had to stop and clear his throat. He had not meant it to come to this. Think as hard as he could, nothing else came that he could have done. Even giving himself to the Trollocs would not have stopped them killing and burning. The end would have been the same. \"It was not fair, what I did with Faile, but I had to. Please understand that. I had to.\"\n\n\"Don't be silly, Perrin,\" Alsbet said, voice emphatic but round face smiling warmly. \"I can never abide it when you're silly. Do you think we would expect you to do any different?\"\n\nA heavy cleaver in one hand, Marin reached up to pat his knee with the other. \"Any man worth cooking a meal for would have done the same.\"\n\n\"Thank you.\" Light, but he sounded hoarse. Ina minute he would be snuffling like a girl. But for some reason he could not smooth his voice. They must think him an idiot. \"Thank you. I shouldn't have fooled you, but she'd not have gone if she suspected.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh, Perrin.\" Marin laughed. She actually laughed, with all they faced, and smelling of fear as she did; he wished he had half her courage. \"We knew what you were up to before you ever put heron her horse, and I am not sure she didn't as well. Women do find themselves doing what they don't want just to please you men. Now you goon and do what you have to. This is Women's Circle business,\" she added firmly.\n\nSomehow he managed to smile back at her. \"Yes, mistress,\" he said, knuckling his forehead. \"Beg pardon. I know enough to keep my nose out of that.\" The women around her laughed in soft amusement as he turned Stepper away.\n\nBan and Tell were riding right behind him, he realized, with the rest of the Companions strung out after Wil and the banner. He motioned the pair to come up beside him. \"If things go badly today,\" he said when they were on either side of him, \"the Companions are to comeback here and help the women.\"\n\n\"But-\"\n\nHe cut Tell's protest short. \"You do what I say! If it goes wrong, you get the women and children out! You hear me?\" They nodded; reluctantly, but they did it.\n\n\"What about you?\" Ban asked quietly.\n\nPerrin ignored him. \"Aram, you stick with the Companions.\"\n\nStriding along between Stepper and Tell's shaggy horse, the Tinker did not even lookup. \"I go where you go.\" He said it simply, but his tone left no room for argument; he was going to do as he wanted whatever Perrin said. Perrin wondered if real lords ever had problems like this." }, { "from": "human", "value": "At the west end of the Green, the Whitecloaks were all mounted, cloaks with the golden sunburst bright, helmets and armor gleaming, lance points shining, along column of fours that stretched back between the nearest houses." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They must have spent half the night polishing. Dain Bornhald and Jaret Byar swung their horses to face Perrin. Bornhald sat straight in his saddle, but he smelled of apple brandy. Byar's gaunt face twisted with an even deeper rage than usual as he stared at Perrin.\n\n\"I thought you would beat your places by now,\" Perrin said.\n\nBornhald frowned at his horse's mane, not answering. After a moment, Byar spat, \"We are leaving here, Shadowspawn.\" An angry mutter rose from the Companions, but the hollow-eyed man ignored them as he did Aram's reaching over his shoulder to his sword hilt. \"We will cut our way back to Watch Hill through your friends and rejoin the rest of our men.\"\n\nLeaving. Over four hundred soldiers, leaving. Whitecloaks, but mounted soldiers, not farmers, soldiers who had agreed-Bornhald had agreed!-to support the Two Rivers men wherever the fighting was hottest. If Emond's Field was to have any chance at all, he had to hang onto these men. Stepper tossed his head and snorted as if catching his rider's mood. \"Do you still believe I'm a Darkfriend, Bornhald? How many attacks have you seen so far? Those Trollocs have tried to kill meas much as anybody else.\"\n\nBornhald raised his head slowly, eyes haunted and at the same time half-glazed. Hands in steel-backed gauntlets flexed on his reins unconsciously. \"Do you think I do not know by now that these defenses were prepared without you? It was none of your doing, yes? I will not keep my men hereto watch you feed your own villagers to the Trollocs. Will you dance atop a pile of their bodies when it is done, Shadowspawn? Not ours! I mean to livelong enough to see you brought to justice!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Perrin patted Stepper's neck to quiet the stallion. He had to keep these men. \"You want me? Very well. When it's over, when the Trollocs are done, I'll not resist if you try to arrest me.\"\n\n\"No!\" Ban and Tell shouted together, and growls built behind them from the others. Aram peered up at Perrin, stricken.\n\n\"An empty promise,\" Bornhald sneered. \"You mean everyone to die here save yourself!\"\n\n\"You'll never know if you runaway, will you?\" Perrin made his voice hard and contemptuous. \"I will keep my promise, but if you run, you might never find me again. Run, if you want! Run, and try to forget what happens here! All your talk of protecting people from Trollocs. How many died at Trolloc hands after you came? My family wasn't the first, and certainly not the last. Run! Or stay, if you can remember you're men. If you need to find the courage, look at the women, Bornhald. Anyone of them is braver than the whole lot of you Whitecloaks!\"\n\nBornhald shook as though every word were a blow; Perrin thought the man might fallout of his saddle. Swaying upright, Bornhald stared at him. \"We will remain,\" he said hoarsely.\n\n\"But, my Lord Bornhald,\" Byar protested.\n\n\"Clean!\" Bornhald roared at him. \"If we must die here, we will die clean!\" He wrenched his head back to Perrin, spittle on his lips. \"We will remain. But at the last I will see you dead, Shadowspawn! For my family, for my father, I-will-see-you-dead!\" Sawing his horse around roughly, he cantered back to his white-cloaked column. Byar bared his teeth in a wordless snarl at Perrin before following." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You do not mean to keep that promise?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Aram said anxiously. \"You cannot.\"\n\n\"I have to check everyone,\" Perrin said. Small chance he would livelong enough to keep it. \"There isn't much time.\" He booted Stepper in the flanks and the horse leaped forward, toward the west end of the village.\n\nBehind the sharp stakes facing the Westwood, men crouched with their spears and halberds and polearms fashioned by Haral Luhhan, who was therein his blacksmith's vest with a scythe blade on the end of an eight-foot shaft. Behind them stood the men with bows in ranks broken by four catapults, Abell Cauthon walking along slowly to speak to each man.\n\nPerrin reined in beside Abell. \"Word is they're coming from north and south,\" he said quietly, \"but keep a sharp eye.\"\n\n\"We'll watch. And I'm ready to send half my men wherever they are needed. They'll not find Two Rivers folk easy meat.\" Abell's grin was reminiscent of his son's.\n\nTo Perrin's embarrassment, the men raised a ragged cheer as he rode by, with the Companions and the banner at his heels: \"Goldeneyes! Goldeneyes!\" and now and then a'Lord Perrin!\" He knew he should have stamped harder on that in the beginning.\n\nTo the south, Tam had charge, more grim-faced than Abell and striding almost like a Warder, hand resting on his sword hilt. That wolfish, deadly grace looked strange on the blocky, gray-haired farmer. Yet his words to Perrin were not so different from Abell's. \"We Two Rivers folk area tougher lot than most know,\" he said quietly. \"Don't you worry we will not do ourselves proud today.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Alanna was atone of the six catapults here, fussing over a large stone being lifted into the cup on the end of the thick arm. Ihvon sat his horse near her in his Warder's color-changing cloak, slender as a steel blade and alert as a hawk; there was no doubt he had chosen his ground-wherever Alanna was-and his fight-to bring her out alive whatever. He barely looked at Perrin. But the Aes Sedai paused, hands hovering over the stone, eyes following him as he passed. He could all but feel her weighing and measuring and judging. Those cheers followed him, too.\n\nWhere the hedge of stakes ran beyond the few houses east of the Winespring Inn, Jon Thane and Samel Crawe had charge between them. Perrin told them what he had Abell, and once again got much the same reply. Jon, in a mail shirt with holes rusted through in several places, had seen the smoke of his mill burning, and Samel, with his horse face and long nose, was sure he had seen the smoke of his farm. Neither expected an easy day, but both wore stony determination like cloaks.\n\nIt was to the north that Perrin had decided to make his fight. Fingering the ribbon hanging down one lapel, he peered in the direction of Watch Hill, the direction Faile had gone, and wondered why he had chosen the north side. Fly free, Faile. Fly free, my heart. He supposed it was good a place to die as any.\n\nBran supposedly was in charge here, in his steel cap and disc-sewn metal jerkin, but he stopped checking the men along the hedge to give Perrin as much of a bow as his girth would allow. Gaul and Chiad stood ready, heads wrapped in shoufa and faces hidden to the eyes behind black veils. Side by side, Perrin noted; whatever had passed between them, it seemed to outweigh their clans' blood feud. Loial had a pair of woodaxes, dwarfed in his huge hands; his tufted ears thrust forward fiercely, and his wide face was grim." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Do you think I would runaway?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "he had said when Perrin suggested he could slip off into the night after Faile. His ears had dropped with weariness and hurt. I came with you, Perrin, and I will stay until you go. And then he had laughed suddenly, a deep booming sound that almost rattled the dishes. Perhaps someone will even tell a story of me, one day. We do not go in for such things, but there could bean Ogier hero, I suppose. A joke, Perrin. I made a joke. Laugh. Come, we will tell each other jokes, and laugh, and think of Faile flying free.\n\n\"It is no joke, Loial,\" Perrin murmured as he rode along the lines of men, trying not to listen to their cheers. \"You area hero whether you want to be or not.\" The Ogier gave him a tight, wide-mouthed grin before setting his eyes back on the cleared ground beyond the hedge. White-striped sticks marked hundred-pace intervals out to five hundred; beyond that lay quilted fields, tabac and barley, most trampled in earlier attacks, and hedges and low stone fences, and copses of leatherleaf, pine and oak.\n\nSo many faces Perrin knew in those waiting ranks of men. Stout Eward Candwin and lantern-jawed Paet al'Caar with spears. White-haired Buel Dowtry, the fletcher, stood with the bowmen, of course. There was stocky, gray-haired Jac al'Seen and his bald cousin Wit, and gnarled Flann Lewin, a lanky beanpole like all of his male kin. Jaim Torfinn and Hu Marwin, among the first to ride after him; they had felt too uncomfortable to join the Companions, as if missing the ambush in the Waterwood had opened some gap between them and the others. Elam Dowtry, and Dav Ayellin, and Ewin Finngar. Hari Coplin and his brother Darl, and old Bili Congar. Berin Thane, the miller's brother, and fat Athan Dearn, and Kevrim al'Azar, whose grandsons had grown sons, and Tuck Padwhin, the carpenter, and..." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Making himself stop counting them, Perrin rode to where Verin stood beside one of the catapults under the watchful eye of Tomas on his gray. The plump, brown-clad Aes Sedai studied Aram a moment before turning her birdlike gaze up to Perrin, one eyebrow raised as if to question why he was bothering her.\n\n\"I am a little surprised to see you and Alanna still here,\" he told her. \"Hunting girls who can learn to channel can't be worth getting killed. Or keeping a string tied to a ta'veren, either.\"\n\n\"Is that what we are doing?\" Folding her hands at her waist, she tilted her head to one side thoughtfully. \"No,\" she said at last, \"I do not think we could go quite yet. You area very interesting study, as much as Rand, in your own way. And young Mat. Could I only split myself into three, I would latch one onto each of you and follow you every moment of the day and night even if I had to marry you.\"\n\n\"I already have a wife.\" It felt odd, saying that. Odd, and good. He had a wife, and she was safe.\n\nShe shattered his moment of reverie. \"Yes, you do. But you do not know what marrying Zarine Bashere means, do you?\" She reached up to turn his axe in its loop on his belt, studying it. \"When are you going to give this up for the hammer?\"\n\nStaring at the Aes Sedai, he reined Stepper back apace, pulling the axe out of her hands, before he knew it. What marrying Faile meant? Give up the axe? What did she mean? What did she know?\n\n\"ISAM!\" The guttural roar rose like thunder, and Trollocs appeared, each half again as tall as a man and twice as wide, trotting into the fields to halt beyond bowshot, a hulking, black-mailed mass, deep and stretching the length of the village. Thousands of them packed together, huge faces distorted by beaks and snouts, heads with horns or feathered crests, spikes at elbows and shoulders, scythe-curved swords and spiked axes, hooked spears and barbed tridents, a seemingly endless sea of cruel weapons. Behind them, Myrddraal galloped up and down on midnight horses, raven-black cloaks hanging undisturbed as they whirled their mounts." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"ISAM!\"\n\n\"Interesting,\" Verin murmured.\n\nPerrin would not have thought that was the word. This was the first time the Trollocs had shouted anything understandable. Not that he had any idea what it meant.\n\nSmoothing his marriage ribbon, he forced himself to ride calmly to the center of the Two Rivers line. The Companions formed behind him, the breeze lifting the banner with its red wolfhead. Aram had his sword out in both hands. \"Be ready!\" Perrin called. His voice was steady; he could not believe it.\n\n\"ISAM!\" And the black tide rolled forward, howling wordlessly.\n\nFaile was safe. Nothing else mattered. He would not let himself seethe faces of the men stretched out to either side of him. He heard the same howls drifting from the south. Both sides at once. They had never tried that before. Faile was safe. \"At four hundred paces...!\" All along the ranks, bows rose together. Closer the howling mass came, long thick legs eating ground. Closer. \"Loose!\"\n\nThe snap of bowstrings was lost in the Trolloc roar, but a goose-fletched hail streaked the sky as it arced out, plunged down into the black-mailed horde. Stones from the catapults erupted in fiery balls and sharp splinters in those seething ranks. Trollocs fell. Perrin saw them go down, trampled beneath boots and hooves. Even some Myrddraal fell. Yet the tidal wave rushed on, closing holes and gaps, apparently undiminished.\n\nThere was no need to order another volley. A second followed the first as quickly as men could nock arrows, a second rain of broadhead points rising before the first dropped, the third following behind, the fourth, the fifth. Fire exploded among the Trollocs as fast as the catapult arms could be winched down, Verin galloping from catapult to catapult to lean down from her saddle. And the huge bellowing forms came on, crying in no language Perrin understood, but crying for blood, human blood and flesh. Men crouching behind the stakes readied themselves, hefting their weapons." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Perrin felt cold inside." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He could seethe ground behind the Trolloc charge already littered with their dead and dying, yet it hardly seemed they were fewer. Stepper pranced nervously, but he could not hear the dun's whicker for the rolling howls of Trollocs. The axe came into his hand smoothly, long half-moon blade and thick spike catching the sunlight. Not midday yet. My heart is yours forever, Faile. This time, he did not think the stakes would...\n\nNot even slowing, the front rank of Trollocs ran onto the sharp stakes, faces contorted by snouts or beaks twisting with pained shrieks, howling as they were impaled, driven down by more huge shapes scrambling up over their backs, some of those falling among the stakes, replaced by more, always more. One last volley of arrows drove home at point-blank range, and then it was the spears and halberds and home-made polearms, thrusting and stabbing at towering forms in blackmail, sometimes falling while the bowmen shot as best they could at the inhuman faces above their friends' heads, boys shooting down from the rooftops as well, madness and death and earsplitting roars and screams and howls. Slowly, inexorably, the Two Rivers line bulged inward at a dozen places. If it broke, anywhere...\n\n\"Fallback!\" Perrin bellowed. A boar-snouted Trolloc, already bleeding, forced its way through the ranks of men, shrieking and striking with its thick, curved sword. Perrin's axe split its head to the snout. Stepper was trying to rear, screaming silently in the din. \"Fallback!\" Darl Coplin went down, clutching a thigh transfixed by a wrist-thick spear; old Bili Congar tried to drag him backward while awkwardly wielding a boar spear; Hari Coplin swung his halberd in defense of his brother, mouth wide in a seemingly soundless shout. \"Fallback between the houses!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He was not sure whether others heard and passed the order, or the mountainous weight of Trollocs simply pressed in, but slowly, one grudging step at a time, the humans moved back. Loial swung his bloodied axes like mallets, wide mouth snarling. Beside the Ogier, Bran thrust his spear grimly; he had lost his steel cap, and blood ran in his fringe of gray hair. From his stallion Tomas carved a space around Verin; hair in wild disarray, she had lost her horse; balls of fire streaked from her hands, and every Trolloc struck exploded inflames as if soaked in oil. Not enough to hold. The Two Rivers men edged back, jostling around Stepper. Gaul and Chiad fought back-to-back; she had only one spear left, and he slashed and stabbed with his heavy knife. Back. To west and east men had curved out from the defenses thereto keep the Trollocs from flanking them, pouring arrows in. Not enough. Back.\n\nSuddenly a huge ram-horned shape was trying to pull Perrin out of the saddle, trying to climb up after him. Thrashing, Stepper went down under the combined weight. Leg pinned and pained near to breaking, Perrin struggled to bring his axe around, to fight hands bigger than an Ogier's away from his throat. The Trolloc screamed as Aram's sword sliced into its neck. Even as it collapsed atop Perrin, spraying blood, the Tinker spun smoothly to run another Trolloc through the middle.\n\nGrunting with pain, Perrin kicked his way clear, aided by Stepper scrambling to his feet, but there was no time to think of remounting. He barely rolled aside as a black horse's hooves stamped where his head had been. Pale, eyeless face snarling, the Fade leaned from its saddle as he tried to rise, dead-black sword slashing, brushing his hair as he dropped. Ruthlessly he swung his axe, chopping one of the horse's legs out from under it. Horse and rider toppled together; as they fell, he buried his axe where the Halfman's eyes should have been." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He wrenched the blade free in time to see Daise Congar's pitchfork tines take a goat-snouted Trolloc in the throat. It seized the long shaft with one hand, stabbing a barbed spear at her with the other, but Marin al'Vere calmly hamstrung it with one blow of her cleaver; the leg gave way, and she just as coolly severed the Trolloc's spine at the base of its neck. Another Trolloc lifted Bode Cauthon into the air by her braid; mouth wide in a terrified scream, she sank her wood-axe into its mailed shoulder just as her sister, Eldrin, thrust her boar spear through its chest and gray-braided Neysa Ayellin drove a thick butchering knife in as well.\n\nAll up and down the line, as far as Perrin could see, the women were there. Their numbers were the only reason the line still held, almost driven back against the houses. Women among the men, shoulder to shoulder; some no more than girls, but then, some of those'men\" had never shaved yet. Some never would. Where were the Whitecloaks? The children! If the women were here, there was no one to get the children out. Where are the bloody Whitecloaks? If they came now, at least they might buy another few minutes. A few minutes to get the children away.\n\nA boy, the same dark-haired runner who had come for him the night before, seized his arm as he turned to search for the Companions. The Companions had to try to cut away out for the children. He would send them, and do what he could here. \"Lord Perrin!\" the boy shouted at him through the deafening din. \"Lord Perrin!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Perrin tried to shake him off, then snatched him up kicking under one arm; he belonged with the other children. Split up, in tight ranks stretching from house to house, Ban and Tell and the other Companions were shooting from their saddles, over the heads of the men and women. Wil had driven the banner's staff into the ground so he could work his bow, too. Somehow, Tell had managed to catch up Stepper; the dun's reins were tied to Tell's saddle. The boy could goon Stepper's back.\n\n\"Lord Perrin! Please listen! Master al'Thor says somebody's attacking the Trollocs! Lord Perrin!\"\n\nPerrin was halfway to Tell, hobbling on his bruised leg, when it penetrated. He stuffed the axe haft through his belt to hoist the boy up in front of his face by the shoulders. \"Attacking them? Who?\"\n\n\"I don't know, Lord Perrin. Master al'Thor said to tell you he thought he heard somebody shouting \"Deven Ride.\"\"\n\nAram grabbed Perrin's arm, wordlessly pointing with his bloody sword. Perrin turned in time to see a hail of arrows plunge into the Trollocs. From the north. Another flight was already rising toward the top of its arc.\n\n\"Go back to the other children,\" he said, setting the boy down. He had to be up where he could see. \"Go! You did well, boy!\" he added as he ran awkwardly for Stepper. The little fellow scampered back into the village grinning. Every step sent a jolt of pain up Perrin's leg; maybe the thing was broken. He had no time to worry about that.\n\nSeizing the reins Tell tossed him, he hauled himself up into his saddle. And wondered if he was seeing what he wanted to see instead of what was really there." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Keep the narrative going for the author.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, prophecy\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: The Shadow Rising\nChapter: 57" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Perrin tried to shake him off, then snatched him up kicking under one arm; he belonged with the other children. Split up, in tight ranks stretching from house to house, Ban and Tell and the other Companions were shooting from their saddles, over the heads of the men and women. Wil had driven the banner's staff into the ground so he could work his bow, too. Somehow, Tell had managed to catch up Stepper; the dun's reins were tied to Tell's saddle. The boy could goon Stepper's back.\n\n\"Lord Perrin! Please listen! Master al'Thor says somebody's attacking the Trollocs! Lord Perrin!\"\n\nPerrin was halfway to Tell, hobbling on his bruised leg, when it penetrated. He stuffed the axe haft through his belt to hoist the boy up in front of his face by the shoulders. \"Attacking them? Who?\"\n\n\"I don't know, Lord Perrin. Master al'Thor said to tell you he thought he heard somebody shouting \"Deven Ride.\"\"\n\nAram grabbed Perrin's arm, wordlessly pointing with his bloody sword. Perrin turned in time to see a hail of arrows plunge into the Trollocs. From the north. Another flight was already rising toward the top of its arc.\n\n\"Go back to the other children,\" he said, setting the boy down. He had to be up where he could see. \"Go! You did well, boy!\" he added as he ran awkwardly for Stepper. The little fellow scampered back into the village grinning. Every step sent a jolt of pain up Perrin's leg; maybe the thing was broken. He had no time to worry about that.\n\nSeizing the reins Tell tossed him, he hauled himself up into his saddle. And wondered if he was seeing what he wanted to see instead of what was really there." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Beneath a red-eagle banner at the edge of where the fields had been stood long rows of men in farmer's clothes, shooting their bows methodically. And beside the banner, Faile sat Swallow's saddle, Bain at her stirrup. It had to be Bain behind that black veil, and he could see Faile's face clearly. She looked excited, fearful, terrified and exuberant. She looked beautiful.\n\nMyrddraal were trying to turn some of the Trollocs around, trying to lead a charge against the Watch Hill men, but it was useless. Even Trollocs who did turn went down before they covered fifty strides. A Fade and its horse fell, not to arrows, but to panicked Trolloc hands and spears. It was the Trollocs moving back now, then running in a frenzy, fleeing shots from both sides once the Emond's Field men had room to lift bows, too, Trollocs falling, Myrddraal going down. It was a slaughter, but Perrin hardly saw. Faile.\n\nThe same boy appeared at his stirrup. \"Lord Perrin!\" he shouted. To be heard above cheering now, men and women shouting for joy and relief as the last Trollocs who had not made it out of bow range fell. Not many had, Perrin believed, but he was barely able to think. Faile. The boy tugged at his breeches'leg. \"Lord Perrin! Master al'Thor said to tell you the Trollocs are breaking! And they are shouting \"Deven Ride\"! The men, I mean. I heard them!\"\n\nPerrin bent to ruffle the boy's curly hair. \"What's your name, lad?\"\n\n\"Jaim Aybara, Lord Perrin. I'm your cousin, I think. Sort of, anyway.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Perrin squeezed his eyes shut fora moment to keep the tears in." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Even when he opened them his hand still trembled on the lad's head. \"Well, Cousin Jaim, you tell your children about today. You tell your grandchildren, your grandchildren's children.\"\n\n\"I'm not going to have any,\" Jaim said stoutly. \"Girls are horrible. They laugh at you, and they don't like to do anything worth doing, and you never understand what they're saying.\"\n\n\"I think one day you'll find out they're the opposite of horrible. Some of it won't change, but that will.\" Faile.\n\nJaim looked doubtful, but then he brightened, a wide grin spreading across his face. \"Wait till I tell Had Lord Perrin called me cousin!\" And he darted away to tell Had, who would have children, too, and all the other boys who would, one day. The sun stood straight overhead. An hour, maybe. It had all taken no more than an hour. It felt like a lifetime.\n\nStepper moved forward, and he realized he must have dug his heels in. Cheering people made way for the dun, and he hardly heard them. There were great gaps where Trollocs had broken down the stakes with sheer weight of numbers. He rode through one over a mound of dead Trollocs and never noticed. Dead Trollocs bristling with arrows carpeted the open ground, and here and there a pincushioned Fade flailed and thrashed. He saw none of it. He had eyes for only one thing. Faile.\n\nShe started out from the Watch Hill men, pausing to stop Bain from following, and rode to meet him. She rode so gracefully, as if the black mare were part of her, slimly erect, guiding Swallow more with her knees than the reins held so casually in one hand. The red marriage ribbon still twined through her hair, the ends dangling past her shoulders. He must find her flowers." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Fora moment those tilted eyes studied him, her mouth... Surely she could not be uncertain, but she smelled it. \"I said I would go,\" she said finally, holding her head high. Swallow danced sideways, neck arched, and Faile mastered the mare without seeming to notice'I did not say how far. You cannot say I did.\"\n\nHe could not say anything. She was so beautiful. He just wanted to look at her, to see her, beautiful, alive, with him. Her scent was clean sweat with just the slightest hint of herbal soap. He was not sure whether he wanted to laugh or cry. Maybe both. He wanted to pull all the smell of her into his lungs.\n\nFrowning, she went on. \"They were ready, Perrin. Truly, they were. I barely had to say anything to convince them to come. The Trollocs had hardly bothered them at all, but they could seethe smoke. We traveled hard, Bain and I, and reached Watch Hill well before first light, and we started back as soon as the sun rose.\" Her frown became a wide smile, eager and proud. Such a beautiful smile. Her dark eyes sparkled. \"They followed me, Perrin. They followed me! Even Tenobia has never led men in battle. She wanted to once, when I was eight, but Father had a talk with her alone in her chambers, and when he rode off to the Blight she stayed behind.\" With a rueful grin, she added, \"I think you and he use the same methods sometimes. Tenobia exiled him, but she was only sixteen, and the Council of Lords managed to change her mind after a few weeks. She will be blue with envy when I tell her.\" Again she paused, this time drawing a deep breath and planting a fist on her hip. \"Aren't you going to say anything?\" she demanded impatiently. \"Are you just going to sit there like a hairy lump? I did not say I would leave the Two Rivers. You said that, not I. You've no right to be angry because I did not do what I never promised! And you trying to send me away because you thought you were going to die! I came back to-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I love you.\" It was all he could say, but strangely it seemed to be enough. No sooner were the words out of his mouth than she reined Swallow close enough to throw an arm around him and press her face against his chest; she seemed to be trying to squeeze him in two. He stroked her dark hair gently, just feeling the silkiness of it, just feeling her.\n\n\"I was so afraid I would be too late,\" she said into his coat. \"The Watch Hill men marched as fast as they could, but when we arrived, and I saw the Trollocs fighting right in among the houses, so many of them, as if the village were being buried in an avalanche, and I couldn't see you...\" She drew a shivering breath and let it out slowly. When she spoke again, her voice was calmer. Just. \"Did the men from Deven Ride come?\"\n\nHe gave a start, and his hand stopped stroking. \"Yes, they did. How did you know? Did you arrange that, too?\" She began shaking; it took him a moment to know she was laughing.\n\n\"No, my heart, though I would have if I could. When that man came with his message-\"We are coming\"-I thought-hoped-that that was what it meant.\" Pulling her face back a little, she looked up at him seriously. \"I could not tell you, Perrin. I could not raise your hopes when I only suspected. It would have been too cruel if... Don't be angry with me, Perrin.\"\n\nLaughing, he lifted her out of her saddle and set her sideways in front of his; she laughed her protests, and stretched across the high pommel to put both arms around him. \"I will never, ever be angry with you, I sw-\" She cut him off with a handover his mouth." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Mother says the worst thing Father ever did to her was vow never to be angry with her." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It took her a year to force him to take it back, and she says he was hardly fit to live with long before then from holding in. You will be angry with me, Perrin, and I with you. If you want to make me another wedding vow, vow you will not hide it when you are. I cannot deal with what you will not let me see, my husband. My husband,\" she repeated in a satisfied tone, snuggling against him. \"I do like the sound of that.\"\n\nHe noticed she did not say she would always let him know when she was angry; on past experience, he would have to discover it the hard way at least half the time. And she made no promises not to keep secrets from him again, either. Right then, it did not matter so long as she was with him. \"I will let you know when I'm angry, my wife,\" he promised. She gave him a slanted look, as if she was not sure how to take that. You won't ever come to understand them, Cousin Jaim, but you won't care.\n\nAbruptly he became aware of the dead Trollocs all around him, like a black field full of feathered weeds, the thrashing Myrddraal still refusing to die finally. Slowly he turned Stepper. A slaughter yard and a shambles of Shadowspawn stretching for hundreds of paces in every direction. Crows hopped across the ground already, and vultures soared overhead in a huge milling cloud. No ravens, though. And the same to the south, according to Jaim; he could seethe vultures wheeling beyond the village for proof. Not enough to repay for Deselle or Adora or little Paet or... Not enough; it would never be enough. Nothing could ever repay for them. He hugged Faile; hard enough to make her grunt, but when he tried to ease up, she put her hands on his arms, gripping just as hard to keep them where they were. She was enough." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "People were streaming out of Emond's Field, Bran limping and using his spear fora staff, Marin smiling with an arm around him, Daise being hugged by her husband, Wit, and Gaul and Chiad hand in hand with their veils down. Loial's ears drooped wearily, and Tam had blood on his face, and Flann Lewin was standing only with the help of his wife, Adine; there was blood on nearly everyone, and hasty bandages. But they came out in a widening throng, Elam and Dav, Ewin and Aram, Eward Candwin and Buel Dowtry, Hu and Tad the stablemen from the Winespring Inn, Ban and Tell and the Companions riding with that banner still. This time he did not seethe missing faces, only those who were still there. Verin and Alanna on their horses, with Tomas and Ihvon riding close behind. Old Bili Congar waving a jug that surely held ale, or better yet brandy, and Cenn Buie as gnarled as ever if bruised, and Jac al'Seen with an arm around his wife, and his sons and daughters around him with their wives and husbands. Raen and Ila, still with the babes on their backs. More. Faces he did not know at all; men who must be from Deven Ride and the farms down there. Boys and girls running among them, laughing.\n\nThey fanned out to either side, forming a great hollow circle with the Watch Hill men, Faile and him at its center. Everyone avoided the dying Fades, but it was as if they did not seethe Shadowspawn lying everywhere, only the pair on Stepper. Silently they watched, until Perrin began to feel nervous. Why doesn't somebody say something? Why are they staring like that?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Whitecloaks appeared, riding slowly out of the village in their long gleaming column of fours, Dain Bornhald at their head with Jaret Byar. Every white cloak shone as though freshly laundered; every lance slanted at precisely the same angle. Sullen mutters rose, but people moved aside to let them enter the circle.\n\nBornhald raised a gauntleted hand, halting the column in a jingle of bridles and creak of saddles, when he faced Perrin. \"It is done, Shadowspawn.\" Byar's mouth quivered on the brink of a snarl, but Bornhald's face never changed, his voice never rose. \"The Trollocs are done here. As we agreed, I arrest you now for Darkfriend and murderer.\"\n\n\"No!\" Faile twisted around to stare up at Perrin, eyes angry. \"What does he mean, as you agreed?\"\n\nHer words were nearly drowned by the roar from every side. \"No! No!\" and'You will not take him!\" and'Goldeneyes!\"\n\nKeeping his gaze on Bornhald, Perrin lifted a hand, and silence descended slowly. When all was quiet, he said, \"I said I would not resist, if you aided.\" Surprising, how calm his voice was; inside he seethed with a slow, cold anger. \"If you aided, Whitecloak. Where were you?\" The man did not answer.\n\nDaise Congar stepped out from the encircling throng with Wit, who clung to her as if he never intended to let goof her again. For that matter, her stout arm was wrapped around Wit's shoulders in much the same fashion. They made an odd picture as she planted her pitchfork-polearm firmly, her the taller by ahead and holding her considerably smaller husband as though she meant to protect him. \"They were on the Green,\" she announced loudly, \"all lined up and sitting their horses pretty as girls ready fora dance at Sunday. They never stirred. It was that that made us come...\" A fierce murmur of agreement rippled from the women. \"... when we saw you were about to be overrun, and they just sat there like bumps on a log!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Bornhald did not take his eyes from Perrin for an instant; he did not even blink. \"Did you think I would trust you?\" he sneered. \"Your plan only failed because these others arrived-yes?-and you can claim no part in that.\" Faile shifted; without looking away from the man, Perrin laid a finger across her lips just as she opened her mouth. She bit him-hard-but she did not say anything. Bornhald's voice finally began to rise. \"I will see you hang, Shadowspawn. I will see you hang, whatever it takes! I will see you dead if the world burns!\" The last came as a shout. Byar's sword slid a hand of bare steel from its scabbard; a massive Whitecloak behind him-Farran, Perrin thought his name was-drew his completely, with a pleased smile rather than Byar's toothy snarl.\n\nThey froze as quivers rattled to arrows being drawn, and bows came up all around the circle, fletchings drawn to ear, every broadhead shaft pointed at a Whitecloak. Up and down the thick column, high-cantled saddles creaked as men shifted uneasily. Bornhald showed no sign of fear, and he did not smell of it, either; his scent was all hate. He ran almost fevered eyes over the Two Rivers folk encircling his men and returned them to Perrin just as hot and hate-filled.\n\nPerrin motioned downward, and tension was let off bowstrings reluctantly, bows lowered slowly. \"You would not help.\" His voice was cold iron, anvil-hard. \"Since you came to the Two Rivers, the help you've given has been almost accidental. You never really cared if people were burned out, killed, so long as you could find somebody to call Darkfriend.\" Bornhald shivered, though his eyes still burned. \"It is time for you to go. Not just from Emond's Field. It is time for you to gather up your Whitecloaks and leave the Two Rivers. Now, Bornhald. You are going now.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I will see you hang one day,\" Bornhald said softly. He jerked his hand for the column to follow and booted his horse forward as if he meant to ride Perrin over.\n\nPerrin moved Stepper aside; he wanted these men gone, not more killing. Let the man have a final gesture of defiance.\n\nBornhald never turned his head, but hollow-cheeked Byar stared silent hate at Perrin, and Farran seemed to look at him with regret for some reason. The others kept their eyes front as they passed in a jingle of tack and the clop of hooves. Silently the circle opened to let them out, heading north.\n\nA knot often or twelve men approached Perrin on foot, some in mismatched bits and pieces of old armor, all grinning anxiously, as the last of the Whitecloaks went by. He did not recognize any of them. A wide-nosed, leathery-faced fellow seemed to be their leader, his white hair bare but a rusty mail shirt covering him to the knees, though the collar of a farmer's coat poked up around his neck. He bowed awkwardly over his bow. \"Jerinvar Barstere, my Lord Perrin. Jer, they call me.\" He spoke hurriedly, as if afraid of being interrupted. \"Pardon for bothering you. Some of us will seethe Whitecloaks along, if that's all right with you. A good many want to get on home, even if we can't get there before dark. There's as many Whitecloaks again in Watch Hill, but they would not come. Had orders to hold fast, they said. Bunch of fools, if you ask me, and we're more than tired of having them around, poking their noses into people's houses and trying to make you accuse your neighbor of something. We'll see them off, if that's all right with you.\" He gave Faile an abashed look, ducking his broad chin, but the flow of words did not slow. \"Pardon, my Lady Faile. Didn't mean to bother you and your lord. Just wanted to let him know we're with him. A fine woman you have there, my Lord. A fine woman. No offense meant, my Lady. Well, we've daylight still, and talk shears no sheep. Pardon for bothering you, my Lord Perrin. Pardon, my Lady Faile.\" He bowed again, imitated by the others, and they hurried away with him herding them, muttering at them, \"No time for us to be bothering the lord and his lady. There's work to do yet.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Who was that?\" Perrin said, a trifle stunned by the torrent; Daise and Cenn together could not talk that much. \"Do you know him, Faile? From Watch Hill?\"\n\n\"Master Barstere is the Mayor of Watch Hill, and the others are the Village Council. The Watch Hill Women's Circle will be sending a delegation down under their Wisdom once they're certain it is safe. To see if \"this Lord Perrin\" is right for the Two Rivers, they say, but they all wanted me to show them how to curtsy to you, and the Wisdom, Edelle Gaelin, is bringing you some of her dried-apple tarts.\"\n\n\"Oh, burn me!\" he breathed. It was spreading. He knew he should have stamped it down hard in the beginning. \"Don't call me that!\" he shouted after the departing men. \"I'm a blacksmith! Do you hear me? A blacksmith!\" Jer Barstere turned to wave at him and nod before hurrying the others on.\n\nChortling, Faile tugged at his beard. \"You area sweet fool, my Lord Blacksmith. It is too late to turn back now.\" Suddenly her smile became truly wicked. \"Husband, is there any possibility you might be alone with your wife anytime soon? Marriage seems to have made meas bold as a Domani gall! I know you must be tired, but-\" She cutoff with a small shriek and clung to his coat as he booted Stepper to a gallop toward the Winespring Inn. For once the cheers that followed did not bother him at all.\n\n\"Goldeneyes! Lord Perrin! Goldeneyes!\"\n\nFrom the thick branch of a leafy oak on the edge of the Westwood, Ordeith stared at Emond's Field, a mile to the south. It was impossible. Scourge them. Flay them. Everything had been going according to plan. Even Isam had played into his hands. Why did the fool stop bringing Trollocs? He should have brought in enough to turn the Two Rivers black with them! Spittle dripped from his lips, but he did not notice, anymore than he realized that his hand was fumbling at his belt. Harry them till their hearts burst! Harrow them into the ground screaming! All planned to pull Rand al'Thor to him, and it came to this! The Two Rivers had not even been scratched. A few farms burned did not count, nor a few farmers butchered alive for Trolloc cookpots. I want the Two Rivers to burn, burn so the fire lives in men's memories fora thousand years!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He studied the banner waving over the village, and the one not that far below him. A scarlet wolfhead on scarlet-bordered white, and a red eagle. Red for the blood the Two Rivers must shed to make Rand al'Thor howl. Manetheren. That's meant to be Manetheren's banner. Someone had told them of Manetheren, had they? What did these fools know of the glories of Manetheren? Manetheren. Yes. There was more than one way to scourge them. He laughed so hard he nearly fell out of the oak before he realized that he was not holding on with both hands, that one gripped his belt where a dagger should have hung. The laugh twisted into a snarl as he stared at that hand. The White Tower held what had been stolen from him. What was his by right as old as the Trolloc Wars.\n\nHe let himself drop to the ground, and scrambled onto his horse before looking at his companions. His hounds. The thirty or so Whitecloaks remaining no longer wore their white cloaks, of course. Rust spotted their dull plate-and-mail, and Bornhald would never have recognized those sullen, suspicious faces, dirty and unshaven. The humans watched Ordeith, distrustful yet afraid, not even glancing at the Myrddraal in their midst, its slug-pale, eyeless face as bleakly wooden as theirs. The Halfman feared Isam would find it; Isam had not at all been pleased when that raid on Taren Ferry let so many escape to carry away word of what was happening in the Two Rivers. Ordeith giggled at the thought of Isam discomforted. The man was a problem for another time, if he still lived.\n\n\"We ride for Tar Valon,\" he snapped. Hard riding, to beat Bornhald to the ferry. Manetheren's banner, raised again in the Two Rivers after all these centuries. How the Red Eagle had harried him, so long ago. \"But Caemlyn first!\" Scourge them and flay them! Let the Two Rivers pay first, and then Rand al'Thor, and then..." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Laughing, he galloped north through the forest, not looking back to see if the others followed. They would. They had nowhere else to go now." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The molten afternoon sun broiled the Waste, flinging shadows across the mountains to the north, just ahead now. The dry hills passed beneath Jeade'en's hooves, high and low like swells in an ocean of cracked clay, miles rolling away behind. The mountains had held Rand's eyes since they first came insight the day before, not snowcapped, not so tall as the Mountains of Mist, much less the Spine of the World, but jagged slabs of brown and gray stone, streaked in some places with yellow or red or bands of glittering flecks, tumbled about so that a man might think to try the Dragonwall afoot first. Sighing, he settled in his saddle and adjusted the shoufa he wore with his redcoat. In those mountains lay Alcair Dal. Soon there would bean ending of sorts, or a beginning. Maybe both. Soon, perhaps.\n\nYellow-haired Adelin strode easily ahead of the dapple stallion, and nine more sun-dark Far Dareis Mai made a wide ring around him, all with bucklers and spears in hand, cased bows on their backs, black veils dangling on their chests ready to be lifted. Rand's honor guard. The Aiel did not call it that, yet the Maidens came to Alcair Dal for Rand's honor. So many differences, and he did not know what half really were even when he saw them.\n\nFor instance, Aviendha's behavior toward the Maidens, and theirs to her. Most of the time, as now, she walked beside his horse with her arms folded in the shawl around her shoulders; green eyes intent beneath her dark headscarf on the mountains ahead, she seldom spoke with the Maidens beyond a word or two, but that was not the oddity. Her arms folded; that was the heart of it. The Maidens knew she wore the ivory bracelet, yet seemed to pretend not to see it; she would not take it off, yet hid her wrist whenever she thought one of them might be looking." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "You have no society, Adelin had told him when he suggested some other than the Maidens of the Spear might provide his escort. Each chief, whether of clan or sept, would be accompanied by men from the society he had belonged to before becoming chief. You have no society, but your mother was a Maiden. The yellow-haired woman and the other nine had not looked at Aviendha, a few steps away in the entry hall to Lian's roof; they had not looked intently. For countless years Maidens who would not give up the spear have given their babes for the Wise Ones to hand to other women, none knowing where the child went or even whether boy or girl. Now a Maiden's son has comeback to us, and we know him. We will go to Alcair Dal for your honor, son of Shaiel, a Maiden of the Chumai Taardad. Her face was so set-all of their faces were, including Aviendha's-that he thought they might offer to dance the spears if he refused.\n\nWhen he accepted, they made him go through that ritual of'Remember honor\" again, this time with some drink called oosquai, made from zemai, drinking to the bottom of a small silver cup with each of them. Ten Maidens; ten little cups. The stuff looked like faintly brown-tinged water, tasted almost like it-and was stronger than double-distilled brandy. He had not been able to walk straight after, and they had got him to bed, laughing at him, no matter how he protested, as much as he could with all of them tickling him so he could barely breathe for laughing himself. All but Aviendha. Not that she went away; she stayed and watched the whole thing with a face as blank as stone. When Adelin and the others finally tucked him into his blankets and left, Aviendha sat down beside the door, spreading her dark, heavy skirts, watching him stonily until he fell asleep. At his waking, she was still there, still watching. And refusing to talk about Maidens or oosquai or any of it; as far as she was concerned, it seemed not to have happened. Whether the Maidens would have been as reticent, he did not know; how could you possibly look ten women in the face and ask why they had gotten you drunk and made a game of taking your clothes off and putting you to bed?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "So many differences, so few that made much sense that he could see, and no telling which might trip him up and ruin all his plans. Yet he could not afford to wait. He glanced over his shoulder. What was done, was done. And who can say what's yet to come?\n\nWell behind, the Taardad followed him. Not just the Nine Valley Taardad and the Jindo, but the Miadi and the Four Stones, the Chumai and the Bloody Water and more, broad columns surrounding the peddlers'lurching wagons and the Wise Ones\" party, reaching back two miles through the shimmering heat haze, ringed by scouts and outrunners. Everyday more had come in response to the runners Rhuarc had sent that first day, a hundred men and Maidens here, three hundred there, five hundred, according to the size of each sept and what each hold needed to keep for safety.\n\nIn the distance to the south and west, another band was approaching at a run, trailing dust for their pace; perhaps they belonged to some other clan on its way to Alcair Dal, but he thought not. Only two-thirds of the septs represented yet, but he estimated there were well over fifteen thousand Taardad Aiel strung out behind him. An army on the march, and still growing. Nearly an entire clan coming to a meeting of chiefs, in violation of all custom.\n\nSuddenly Jeade'en topped arise, and therein along, wide hollow below was the fair gathered for the meeting, and on the hills beyond, the camps of the clan and sept chiefs who had already arrived.\n\nSpread among two or three hundred of the low, wall-less tents, all widely spaced, were pavilions of the same grayish brown material that were tall enough to stand beneath, with goods displayed on blankets in the shade, brightly glazed pottery and even brighter rugs, jewelry in silver or gold. Aiel crafts mainly, but there would be things from beyond the Waste as well, including perhaps silk and ivory from far to the east. No one seemed to be trading; the few men and women insight satin one or another of the pavilions, usually alone." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Of the five camps scattered on heights around the fair, four looked just as empty, only a few dozen men or Maidens stirring amid tents setup for as many as a thousand. The fifth camp sprawled over twice as much ground as any of the others, with hundreds of people visible, and likely as many more inside the tents.\n\nRhuarc trotted up the hill behind Rand with his ten Aethan Dor, Red Shields, followed by Heirn with ten Tain Shari, True Bloods, and forty-odd more sept chiefs with their escorts for honor, all with spears and bucklers, bows and quivers. It made a formidable force, more than had taken the Stone of Tear. Some of the Aiel in the camps and among the pavilions were peering at the hilltop. Not at the Aiel gathered there, Rand suspected. At him; a man on a horse. A thing seen very seldom in the Three-fold Land. He would show them more before he was done.\n\nRhuarc's gaze settled on the largest camp, where more Aiel in cadin'sor were boiling out of the tents, all to stare in their direction. \"Shaido, unless I mistake myself,\" he said quietly. \"Couladin. You are not the only one to break custom, Rand al'Thor.\"\n\n\"Perhaps as well I did.\" Rand dragged the shoufa from around his head and stuffed it into his coat pocket atop the angreal, the carving of around-faced man with a sword across his knees. The sun began baking his bare head to show him how much protection the cloth had been. \"If we had come according to custom...\" The Shaido were loping toward the mountains, leaving behind apparently empty tents. And causing some little stir in the other camps, and the fair; the Aiel gave over staring at a man on a horse to peer after the Shaido. \"Could you have forced away into Alcair Dal against two-to-one odds or better, Rhuarc?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Not before nightfall,\" the clan chief replied slowly, \"not even against Shaido dogrobbers. This is more than violation of custom! Even Shaido should have more honor than this!\"\n\nAngry mutters of agreement rose from the other Taardad on the hilltop. Except the Maidens; for some reason they had gathered around Aviendha off to one side, talking seriously among themselves. Rhuarc spoke a few quiet words to one of his Red Shields, a green-eyed fellow who looked as if his face had been used to pound fence posts, and the man turned downhill, running swiftly back toward the approaching Taardad.\n\n\"Did you expect this?\" Rhuarc asked Rand as soon as the Red Shield left. \"Is that why you summoned the entire clan?\"\n\n\"Not this exactly, Rhuarc.\" The Shaido began forming lines before a narrow gap into the mountains; they were veiling themselves. \"But there was no other reason for Couladin to leave in the night except that he was eager to be somewhere, and where would he better like to be than here, causing me trouble? Are the others already in Alcair Dal? Why?\"\n\n\"The opportunity presented by chiefs meeting is not to be missed, Rand al'Thor. There will be discussions of boundary disputes, grazing rights, a dozen things. Water. If two Aiel from different clans meet, they discuss water. Three from three clans, and they discuss water and grazing.\"\n\n\"And four?\" Rand asked. Five clans represented already, and the Taardad made six.\n\nRhuarc hesitated a moment, hefting one of his short spears unconsciously. \"Four will dance the spears. But it should not be so here.\"\n\nThe Taardad parted to let the Wise Ones through, shawls over their heads, with Moiraine and Lan and Egwene riding behind. Egwene and the Aes Sedai wore those white cloths around their temples, in damp imitation of the Aiel women's headscarves. Mat rode up, too, off by himself, black-hafted spear across his pommel. His wide-brimmed hat shadowed his face as he studied what lay ahead." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Warder nodded to himself when he saw the Shaido. \"That could be messy,\" he said softly. His black stallion rolled an eye at Rand's dapple; only that, and Lan was intent on the Aiel ranks before the gap, yet he patted Mandarb's neck soothingly. \"But not now, I think.\"\n\n\"Not now,\" Rhuarc agreed.\n\n\"If only you would... allow me to go in with you.\" Except for that one slight hitch, Moiraine's voice was as serene as ever; cool calm painted her ageless features, but her dark eyes looked at Rand as if her gaze alone could force him to relent.\n\nAmys's long pale hair, hanging below her shawl, swung as she shook her head firmly. \"It is not his decision, Aes Sedai. This is the business of chiefs, men's business. If we let you go into Alcair Dal now, the next time Wise Ones meet, or roofmistresses, some clan chief will want to put his nose in. They think we meddle in their affairs, and often try to meddle in ours.\" She gave Rhuarc a quick smile meant to convey that she did not include him; her husband's lack of expression told Rand he thought otherwise.\n\nMelaine gripped her shawl under her chin, precisely staring at Rand. If she did not agree with Moraine, at least she mistrusted what he would do. He had hardly slept since leaving Cold Rocks; if they had peered into his dreams, they had seen only nightmares.\n\n\"Be careful, Rand al'Thor,\" Bair said as if she had read his thoughts. \"A tired man makes mistakes. You cannot afford mistakes today.\" She pulled her shawl down around her thin shoulders, and her thin voice took on an almost angry note. \"We cannot afford for you to make mistakes. The Aiel cannot afford it.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The coming of more riders to the hilltop had drawn eyes back to them. Among the pavilions several hundred Aiel, men in cadin'sor and long-haired women in skirts and blouses and shawls, made a watchful crowd. Its attention shifted when Kadere's dusty white wagon appeared behind its team of mules off to the right, with the heavy, cream-coated peddler on the driver's seat, and Isendre all in white silk holding a matching parasol. Keille's wagon followed, with Natael handling the reins at her side, and the canvas-topped wagons, and finally the three big water wagons like huge barrels on wheels with their long mule teams. They looked at Rand as the wagons rambled past in a squeal of ungreased axles, Kadere and Isendre, Natael in his gleeman's patch-covered cloak, Keille's great bulk encased in snowy white, a white lace shawl on her ivory combs. Rand patted Jeade'en's arched neck. Men and women began spilling out of the fair below to meet the approaching wagons. The Shaido were waiting. Soon, now.\n\nEgwene moved her gray close to Jeade'en; the dapple stallion tried to nuzzle Mist and got nipped for his trouble. \"You've not given meany chance to speak to you since Cold Rocks, Rand.\" He said nothing; she was Aes Sedai now, and not just because she called herself one. He wondered if she had spied on his dreams, too. Her face looked tight, her dark eyes tired. \"Do not keep to yourself, Rand. You do not fight alone. Others do battle for you, too.\"\n\nFrowning, he tried not to look at her. His first thought was of Emond's Field and Perrin, but he did not see how she could know where Perrin had gone. \"What do you mean?\" he said finally." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I fight for you,\" Moiraine said before Egwene could open her mouth, \"as does Egwene.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A look flashed between the two women. \"People fight for you who do not know it, anymore than you know them. You do not realize what it means that you force the form of the Age Lace, do you? The ripples of your actions, the ripples of your very existence, spread across the Pattern to change the weave of life-threads of which you will never be aware. The battle is far from yours alone. Yet you stand in the heart of this web in the Pattern. Should you fail, and fall, all fails and falls. Since I cannot go with you into Alcair Dal, let Lan accompany you. One more pair of eyes to watch your back.\" The Warder turned slightly in his saddle, frowning at her; with the Shaido veiled for killing, he would not be eager to leave her alone.\n\nRand did not think he was supposed to have seen that look pass from Moiraine to Egwene. So they had a secret to keep from him. Egwene did have Aes Sedai eyes, dark and unreadable. Aviendha and the Maidens had comeback to him. \"Let Lan stay with you, Moiraine. Far Dareis Mai carries my honor.\"\n\nMoiraine's mouth tightened at the corners, but apparently that was exactly the right thing to say so far as the Maidens were concerned. Adelin and the others donned wide grins.\n\nBelow, Aiel were crowding around wagon drivers as they began unhitching the mules. Not everyone was paying attention to the Aiel. Keille and Isendre stared atone another from beside their wagons, Natael speaking urgently to one woman, Kadere to the other, until they finally stopped their duel of eyes. The two women had been like that for sometime. Had they been men, Rand would have expected it to come to blows long since." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Be on your guard, Egwene,\" Rand said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"All of you, be on your guard.\"\n\n\"Even the Shaido will not bother Aes Sedai,\" Amys told him, \"anymore than they will bother Bair or Melaine or myself. Somethings are beyond even Shaido.\"\n\n\"Just be on your guard!\" He had not meant to be that sharp. Even Rhuarc stared at him. They did not understand, and he dared not tell them. Not yet. Who would spring their trap first? He had to risk them as well as himself.\n\n\"What about me, Rand?\" Mat said suddenly, rolling a gold coin across the fingers of one hand as though unaware of it. \"You have any objections to my going with you?\"\n\n\"Do you want to? I thought you'd stay with the peddlers.\"\n\nMat frowned at the wagons below, looked to the Shaido lined before the mountain gap. \"I don't think it will be so easy to get out of here if you get yourself killed. Burn me if you don't stick me in the rendering kettle one way or... Dovienya,\" he muttered-Rand had heard him say that before; Lan said it meant'luck\" in the Old Tongue-and flipped the gold coin into the air. When he tried to snatch it back, it bounced off his fingertips and fell to the ground. Somehow, improbably, the coin landed on edge, rolling downhill, bounding across cracks in the baked clay, glittering in the sunlight, all the way down to the wagons, where it finally fell over. \"Burn me, Rand,\" he growled, \"I wish you wouldn't do that!\"\n\nIsendre picked up the coin and stood fingering it, peering up at the hilltop. The others stared, too; Kadere, and Keille, and Natael." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You can come,\" Rand said. \"Rhuarc, isn't it about time?\"\n\nThe clan chief glanced over his shoulder. \"Yes. Just about...\" Behind him, pipes began playing a slow dancing tune. \"... now.\"\n\nSinging rose to the pipes. Aiel boys stopped singing when they reached manhood, except for certain occasions. Only in battle songs and laments for the dead did an Aielman sing once he had taken up the spear. There were surely Maidens' voices in that chanted harmony of parts, but deep male voices swallowed them.\n\n\"Wash the spears-while the sun climbs high. Wash the spears-while the sun falls low.\"\n\nHalf a mile to right and left Taardad appeared, running in time to their song in two wide columns, spears ready, faces veiled, seemingly endless columns rolling toward the mountains.\n\n\"Wash the spears-Who fears to die? Wash the spears-No one I know!\"\n\nIn the clan camps and in the fair, Aiel stared in amazement; something in the way they held themselves told Rand they were silent. Some of the wagon drivers stood as if stunned; others let their mules run loose and dove under their wagons. And Keille and Isendre, Kadere and Natael, watched Rand.\n\n\"Wash the spears-while life holds true. Wash the spears-until life ends. Wash the spears...\"\n\n\"Shall we go?\" He did not wait for Rhuarc's nod to heel Jeade'en to a walk down the hill, Adelin and the other Maidens falling in around him. Mat hesitated a moment before booting Pips to follow, but Rhuarc and the Taardad sept chiefs, each with his ten, stepped off with the dapple. Once, halfway to the fair tents, Rand looked back to the hilltop. Moiraine and Egwene sitting their horses with Lan. Aviendha standing with the three Wise Ones. All watching him. He had almost forgotten what it was like not to have people watching him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ashe rode abreast of the fair, a delegation came out, tenor a dozen women in skirts and blouses and much gold and silver and ivory, as many men in the grays and browns of the cadin'sor but unarmed save fora belt knife, and that usually smaller than the heavy-bladed weapon Rhuarc wore. Still, they took a position that forced Rand and the others to halt, and appeared to ignore the veiled Taardad streaming by to east and west.\n\n\"Wash the spears-Life is a dream. Wash the spears-All dreams must end.\"\n\n\"I did not expect this of you, Rhuarc,\" a heavyset, gray-haired man said. He was not fat-Rand had not seen a fat Aiel-his heaviness was muscle. \"Even from the Shaido it was a surprise, but you!\"\n\n\"Times change, Mandhuin,\" the clan chief replied. \"How long have the Shaido been here?\"\n\n\"They arrived just at sunrise. Why they traveled in the night, who can say?\" Mandhuin frowned slightly at Rand, tilted his head toward Mat. \"Strange times indeed, Rhuarc.\"\n\n\"Who is here besides the Shaido?\" Rhuarc asked.\n\n\"We Goshien arrived first. Then the Shaarad.\" The heavy man grimaced over his blood enemies' name, without stopping his study of the two wetlanders. \"The Chareen and the Tomanelle came later. And last the Shaido, as I said. Sevanna convinced the chiefs to go in only a short time ago. Bael saw no reason to meet today, nor did some of the others.\"\n\nAbroad-faced woman in her middle years, with hair yellower than Adelin's, put fists on her hips in a rattle of ivory and gold bracelets. She wore as many, and as many necklaces, as Amys and her sister-wife combined. \"We hear He Who Comes With the Dawn has come out of Rhuidean, Rhuarc.\" She was frowning at Rand and Mat. The entire delegation was. \"We hear that the Car'a'carn will be announced today. Before all of the clans arrive.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Then someone spoke you a prophecy,\" Rand said. He touched the dapple's flanks with his heels; the delegation moved out of his way.\n\n\"Dovienya,\" Mat murmured. \"Mia dovienya nesodhin soende.\" Whatever it meant, it sounded a fervent wish:\n\nThe Taardad columns had come upon either side of the Shaido and turned to face them across a few hundred paces, still veiled, still singing. They made no move that could be considered threatening, really, only stood there, fifteen or twenty times the Shaido numbers, and sang, voices thundering in chanting harmony.\n\n\"Wash the spears-till shade is gone. Wash the spears-till water turns dry. Wash the spears-How long from home? Wash the spears-Until I die!\"\n\nRiding closer to the black-veiled Shaido, Rand saw Rhuarc lift a hand to his own veil. \"No, Rhuarc. We are not hereto fight them.\" He meant that he hoped it would not come to that, but the Aielman took it differently.\n\n\"You are right, Rand al'Thor. No honor to the Shaido.\" Leaving his veil hanging, Rhuarc raised his voice. \"No honor to the Shaido!\"\n\nRand did not turn his head to look, but he had the feeling black veils were being lowered behind him.\n\n\"Oh, blood and ashes!\" Mat muttered. \"Blood and bloody ashes!\"\n\n\"Wash the spears-till the sun grows cold. Wash the spears-till water runs free. Wash the spears...\"\n\nThe lines of Shaido shifted uneasily. Whatever Couladin or Sevanna had told them, they could count. To dance the spears with Rhuarc and those with him was one thing, even if it went against all custom; to face enough Taardad to sweep them away like an avalanche was something else. Slowly they parted, moving back to let Rand ride through, stepping back to make a wide path." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rand heaved a sigh of relief. Adelin and the other Maidens, at least, walked looking straight ahead, as though the Shaido did not exist.\n\n\"Wash the spears-while I breathe. Wash the spears-my steel is bright. Wash the spears...\"\n\nThe chant faded to a murmur behind them as they passed into the wide, steep-walled gorge, deep and shadowed as it wound into the mountains. For minutes the loudest sounds were the clatter of hooves on stone, the whisper of soft Aiel boots. Abruptly the passage gave way to Alcair Dal.\n\nRand could see why the canyon had been called a bowl, though there was nothing golden about it. Almost perfectly round, its gray wall sloped all the way around except at the far end, where it curled inward like a breaking wave. Clusters of Aiel dotted the slopes, heads and faces bare, many more clusters than there were clans. The Taardad who had come with the sept chiefs peeled away toward one or another of those. According to Rhuarc, grouping by society rather than clan was an aid to keeping peace. Only his Red Shields and the Maidens continued on with Rand and the Taardad chiefs.\n\nThe sept chiefs of the other clans all sat by clan, cross-legged before a deep ledge beneath the curling overhang. Six small knots, one of Maidens, stood between the sept chiefs and the ledge. Supposedly these were the Aiel who had come for the honor of clan chiefs. Six, although only five clans were represented. Sevanna would have the Maidens-though Aviendha had been quick to point out that Sevanna had never been Far Dareis Mai-but the extra... Eleven men in that, not ten. Even seeing only the back of aflame-haired head, Rand was sure it was Couladin." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "On the ledge itself stood a golden-haired woman in as much jewelry as the woman back at the fair tents, gray shawl draped over her arms-Sevanna, of course-and four clan chiefs, none armed save for his long belt knife, and one the tallest man Rand had ever seen. Bael of the Goshien Aiel, by the descriptions Rhuarc had given; the fellow had to beat least a hand taller than Rhuarc or himself. Sevanna was speaking, and some trick of the canyon's shape carried her words clearly throughout.\n\n\"... allow him to speak!\" Her voice was tight and angry. Head high and back straight she tried to dominate the ledge by force of will. \"I demand it as my right! Until anew chief is chosen, I stand for Suladric and the Shaido. I demand my right!\"\n\n\"You stand for Suladric until anew chief is chosen, roofmistress.\" The white-haired man who spoke in irascible tones was Han, clan chief of the Tomanelle. With a face like dark, wrinkled leather, he would have been taller than average in the Two Rivers; for an Aiel, he was short, if stocky. \"I have no doubt you know the rights of a roofmistress well, but perhaps not so well those of a clan chief. Only one who has entered Rhuidean may speak here-and you, who stand in Suladric's place\"-Han did not sound happy about that, but then he sounded as if he was seldom happy-\"but the dreamwalkers have told our Wise Ones Couladin was refused the right to enter Rhuidean.\"\n\nCouladin shouted something, plainly furious yet indistinct-apparently the canyon's trick only worked from the ledge-but Erim, of the Chareen, his own bright red hair nearly half-white, cut him off sharply. \"Have you no respect for custom and law, Shaido? Have you no honor? Stand silent here.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "A few eyes on the slopes turned to see who the newcomers were." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A ripple of nudges brought more around at the sight of two outlanders on horseback at the head of the sept chiefs, and one of the riders followed close by Maidens. How many Aiel peered down at him, Rand wondered. Three thousand? Four? More? None made a sound.\n\n\"We have gathered hereto hear a great announcement,\" Bael said, \"when all the clans have come.\" His dark reddish hair was graying, too; there were no young men among clan chiefs. His great height and deep voice drew eyes to him. \"When all the clans have come. If all Sevanna wishes to speak of now is letting Couladin speak, I will go back to my tents and wait.\"\n\nJheran, of the Shaarad, blood enemy of Bael's Goshien, was a slender man, gray streaked heavily through his light brown hair. Slender, as a steel blade is slender, he spoke to no one of the chiefs in particular. \"I say we do not return to our tents. Since Sevanna has brought us in, let us discuss what is only somewhat less important than the announcement we await. Water. I wish to discuss the water at Chain Ridge Stand.\" Bael turned toward him threateningly.\n\n\"Fools!\" Sevanna snapped. \"I will have done with waiting! I-\"\n\nIt was then that those on the ledge became aware of the new arrivals. In utter silence they watched them approach, the clan chiefs frowning, Sevanna scowling. She was a pretty woman, well short of her middle years-and younger-looking for standing among men well the other side of theirs-but with a greedy mouth. The clan chiefs were dignified, even Han in a sour-mouthed fashion; her pale green eyes had a calculating look. Unlike any Aiel woman Rand had ever seen, she wore her loose white blouse undone low enough to show considerable tanned cleavage, framed by her many necklaces. He could have known the men for clan chiefs by their manner; if Sevanna was a roofmistress, she was surely nothing like Lian." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rhuarc strode straight to the ledge, gave his spears and buckler, his bow and quiver, to his Red Shields, and climbed up. Rand handed his reins to Mat-who muttered, \"Luck with us!\" as he eyed the surrounding Aiel; Adelin nodded encouragingly to Rand-and stepped straight from his saddle to the ledge. A startled murmur rolled around the canyon:\n\n\"What do you do, Rhuarc,\" Han demanded, scowling, \"bringing this wetlander here? If you will not kill him, at least send him down from standing like a chief.\"\n\n\"This man, Rand al'Thor, has come to speak to the chiefs of the clans. Did not the dreamwalkers tell you that he would come with me?\" Rhuarc's words brought a louder murmur from the listeners.\n\n\"Melaine told me many things, Rhuarc,\" Bael said slowly, frowning at Rand. \"That He Who Comes With the Dawn had come out of Rhuidean. You cannot mean that this man...\" He trailed off in disbelief.\n\n\"If this wetlander can speak,\" Sevanna said quickly, \"so may Couladin.\" She lifted a smooth hand, and Couladin scrambled onto the ledge, face an angry red.\n\nHan rounded on him. \"Stand down, Couladin! It is bad enough that Rhuarc violates custom without you doing it as well!\"\n\n\"It is time to be done with worn-out customs!\" the fiery-haired Shaido shouted, stripping off his gray-and-brown coat. There was no need for shouting-his words echoed across the canyon-but he did not lower his voice. \"I am He Who Comes With the Dawn!\" Shoving shirtsleeves above his elbows, he thrust his fists into the air. Around each forearm wound a serpentine creature scaled in crimson and gold, glittering metallically feet each tipped with five golden claws, golden-maned heads resting on the backs of his wrists. Two perfect Dragons. \"I am the Car'a\"carn!\" The roar that came back was like thunder, Aiel leaping to their feet and shouting joyously. The sept chiefs were on their feet, too, the Taardad clustered worriedly, the others shouting as loudly as anyone." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The clan chiefs looked stunned, even Rhuarc. Adelin and her nine Maidens hefted their spears as if they expected to use them any moment. Eyeing the gap leading out, Mat pulled his hat low and guided the two horses close to the ledge, motioning surreptitiously for Rand to get back into his saddle.\n\nSevanna smiled smugly, adjusting her shawl, as Couladin strode to the front of the ledge with his arms high. \"I bring change!\" he shouted. \"According to the prophecy, I bring new days! We will cross the Dragonwall again, and take back what was ours! The wetlanders are soft, but rich! You remember the wealth brought back when last we went into the Wetlands! This time, we will take it all! This time...!\"\n\nRand let the man's tirade wash over him. Of things possible, he had never suspected this. How? The word kept sliding through his head, yet he could not believe how composed he was. Slowly he took off his coat, hesitating a moment before fishing the angreal from his pocket; sticking it into the waistband of his breeches, he dropped the coat and walked to the front of the ledge, calmly undoing the laces of his sleeves. They slid down as he raised his arms above his head.\n\nIt took a moment for the assembled Aiel to notice the Dragons wrapped around his arms, too, shining in the sunlight. Their hush came by increments, but it was total. Sevanna's mouth dropped open; she had not known of this. Obviously Couladin had not thought Rand would follow so quickly, had not told her another bore the markings, too. How? The man must have believed he would have time; once he had established himself, Rand could be dismissed as a fraud. Light, how? If the roofmistess of Comarda Hold was stunned now, so were the clan chiefs, save only Rhuarc. Two men marked as prophecy said only one could be." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Couladin ranted on, waving his arms to make sure all saw." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"... will not stop with the lands of the oathbreakers! We will take all the lands to the Aryth Ocean! The wetlanders cannot stand against-\" Suddenly he became aware of the silence where eager cries had been. He knew what had caused it. Without turning to look at Rand, he shouted, \"Wetlander! Look at his clothes! A wetlander!\"\n\n\"A wetlander,\" Rand agreed. He did not raise his voice, but the canyon carried it to everyone. The Shaido looked startled fora moment, then grinned triumphantly-until Rand went on. \"What does the Prophecy of Rhuidean say? \"Born of the blood.\" My mother was Shaiel, a Maiden of the Chumai Taardad.\" Who was she really? Where did she come from? \"My father was Janduin, of the Iron Mountain sept, clan chief of the Taardad.\" My father is Tam al'Thor. He found me, raised me, loved me. I wish I could have known you, Janduin, but Tam is my father. \"\"Born of the blood, but raised by those not of the blood. ' Where did the Wise Ones send to look for me? Into the holds of the Three-fold Land? They sent across the Dragonwall, where I was raised. According to the prophecy.\"\n\nBael and the other three nodded slowly, but reluctantly; there was still the matter of Couladin also bearing the Dragons, and doubtless they would rather have one of their own. Sevanna's face had firmed; no matter who bore the real markings, there was no doubt whom she supported.\n\nCouladin's confidence never wavered; he sneered openly at Rand, the first time he had even looked at him. \"How long since the Prophecy of Rhuidean was first spoken?\" He still seemed to think he had to shout. \"Who can say how much the words have changed? My mother was Far Dareis Mai before she gave up the spear. How much has the rest changed? Or been changed! It is said we once served the Aes Sedai. I say they mean to bind us to them once more! This wetlander was chosen because he resembles us! He is none of our blood! He came with Aes Sedai leading him on a leash! And the Wise Ones greeted them as they would first-sisters! You have all heard of Wise Ones who can do things beyond belief. The dreamwalkers used the One Power to keep me from this wetlander! They used the One Power, as Aes Sedai are said to do! The Aes Sedai have brought this wetlander hereto bind us with fakery! And the dreamwalkers help them!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"This is madness!\" Rhuarc strode up beside Rand, staring out at the still silent gathering. \"Couladin never went to Rhuidean, I heard the Wise Ones refuse him. Rand al'Thor did go. I saw him leave Chaendaer, and I saw him return, marked as you see.\"\n\n\"And why did they refuse me?\" Couladin snarled. \"Because the Aes Sedai told them to! Rhuarc does not tell you that one of the Aes Sedai went down from Chaendaer with this wetlander! That is how he returned with the Dragons! By Aes Sedai witchery! My brother Muradin died below Chaendaer, murdered by this wetlander and the Aes Sedai Moiraine, and the Wise Ones, doing Aes Sedai bidding, let them walk free! When night came, I went to Rhuidean. I did not reveal myself until now because this is the proper place for the Car'a\"carn to show himself! I am the Car'a\"carn!\"\n\nLies, touched with just enough flecks of truth. The man was all victorious confidence, sure he had an answer for anything.\n\n\"You say you went to Rhuidean without the permission of the Wise Ones?\" Han demanded, frowning. Towering Bael looked just as disapproving with his arms folded, Erim and Jheran only slightly less so. The clan chiefs, at least, still wavered. Sevanna gripped her belt knife, glaring at Han as if she would like to drive it into his back.\n\nCouladin had his answer, though. \"Yes, without it! He Who Comes With the Dawn brings change! So says the prophecy! Useless ways must change, and I will change them! Did I not arrive herewith the dawn?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The clan chiefs stood balanced on the edge, and so did all the watching Aiel, all on their feet now, staring silently, waiting in their thousands. If Rand could not convince them, he likely would not leave Alcair Dal alive. Mat motioned again to Jeade'en's saddle. Rand did not even bother to shake his head.\n\nThere was a consideration beyond getting out alive; he needed these people, needed their loyalty. He had to have people who followed him because they believed, not to use him, or for what he could give them. He had to.\n\n\"Rhuidean,\" he said. The word seemed to fill the canyon. \"You claim you went to Rhuidean, Couladin. What did you see there?\"\n\n\"All know Rhuidean is not to bespoken of,\" Couladin shot back.\n\n\"We can go apart,\" Erim said, \"and speak in private so you can tell us-\" The Shaido cut him off, face flushed angrily.\n\n\"I will speak of it with no one. Rhuidean is a holy place, and what I saw was holy. I am holy!\" He raised his Dragon marked arms again. \"These make me holy!\"\n\n\"I walked among glass columns beside Avendesora.\" Rand spoke quietly, but the words carried everywhere. \"I saw the history of the Aiel through my ancestors' eyes. What did you see, Couladin? I am not afraid to speak. Are you?\" The Shaido quivered with rage, face nearly the color of his fiery hair.\n\nUncertain looks passed between Bael and Erim, Jheran and Han. \"We must go apart for this,\" Han muttered.\n\nCouladin did not seem to realize he had lost his advantage with the four, but Sevanna did. \"Rhuarc has told him these things,\" she spat. \"One of Rhuarc's wives is a dreamwalker, one of those who aids the Aes Sedai! Rhuarc has told him!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Rhuarc would not,\" Han snapped at her. \"He is clan chief, and a man of honor. Do not speak of what you do not know, Sevanna!\"\n\n\"I am not afraid!\" Couladin shouted. \"No man can call me afraid! I, too, saw with my ancestors' eyes! I saw our coming to the Three-fold Land! I saw our glory! The glory I will bring back to us!\"\n\n\"I saw the Age of Legends,\" Rand announced, \"and the beginning of the Aiel journey to the Three-fold Land.\" Rhuarc caught his arm, but he shook the clan chief off. This moment had been fated since the Aiel gathered before Rhuidean the first time. \"I saw the Aiel when they were called the Da'shain Aiel, and followed the Way of the Leaf.\"\n\n\"No!\" The shout rose from out in the canyon and spread in a roar. \"No! No!\" From thousands of throats. Spearpoints shaken in the air caught the sunlight. Even some of the Taardad sept chiefs were shouting. Adelin stared up at Rand, stricken. Mat shouted something at Rand, lost in the thunder, waving urgently for him to take his saddle.\n\n\"Liar!\" The canyon's shape carried Couladin's bellow, wrath mixed with triumph, over the shouts of the gathering. Shaking her head frantically, Sevanna reached for him. She must at least have suspected now that he was the fake, yet if she could keep him quiet they might yet pull it off. As Rand hoped, Couladin pushed her away. The man knew Rand had been to Rhuidean-he could not possibly believe half of his own story-but neither could he believe this. \"He proves himself a fraud from his own mouth! We have always been warriors! Always! To the beginning of time!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "The roar swelled, spears shaking, but Bael and Erim, Jheran and Han stood in stony silence." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They knew now. Unaware of their looks, Couladin waved his Dragon-wreathed arms to the assembled Aiel, exulting in the adulation.\n\n\"Why?\" Rhuarc said softly beside Rand. \"Did you not understand why we do not speak of Rhuidean? To face that we were once so different from everything we believe, that we were the same as the despised Lost Ones you call Tuatha'an. Rhuidean kills those who cannot face it. Not more than one man in three lives who goes to Rhuidean. And now you have spoken for all to hear. It cannot be stopped here, Rand al'Thor. It will spread. How many will be strong enough to bear it?\"\n\nHe will take you back, and he will destroy you. \"I bring change,\" Rand said sadly. \"Not peace, but turmoil.\" Destruction follows on my heels everywhere. Will there ever be anywhere I do not tear apart? \"What will be, will be, Rhuarc. I can't change it.\"\n\n\"What will be, will be,\" the Aielman murmured after a moment.\n\nCouladin still strode up and down, shouting to the Aiel of glory and conquest, unaware of the clan chiefs staring at his back. Sevanna did not look at Couladin at all; her pale green eyes were intent on the clan chiefs, lips pulled back in a grimace, breasts heaving with anxious breaths. She had to know what their silent stares meant.\n\n\"Rand al'Thor,\" Bael said loudly, the name slicing through Couladin's shouts, cutting off the roar of the crowd like a blade. He stopped to clear his throat, head swinging as though seeking away out of this. Couladin turned, folding his arms confidently, no doubt expecting a sentence of death for the wetlander. The very tall clan chief took a deep breath. \"Rand al'Thor is the Car'a\"carn. Rand al'Thor is He Who Comes With the Dawn.\" Couladin's eyes widened in incredulous fury." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Advance the storyline as the writer's tale partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, prophecy\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: The Shadow Rising\nChapter: 58" }, { "from": "human", "value": "The roar swelled, spears shaking, but Bael and Erim, Jheran and Han stood in stony silence." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They knew now. Unaware of their looks, Couladin waved his Dragon-wreathed arms to the assembled Aiel, exulting in the adulation.\n\n\"Why?\" Rhuarc said softly beside Rand. \"Did you not understand why we do not speak of Rhuidean? To face that we were once so different from everything we believe, that we were the same as the despised Lost Ones you call Tuatha'an. Rhuidean kills those who cannot face it. Not more than one man in three lives who goes to Rhuidean. And now you have spoken for all to hear. It cannot be stopped here, Rand al'Thor. It will spread. How many will be strong enough to bear it?\"\n\nHe will take you back, and he will destroy you. \"I bring change,\" Rand said sadly. \"Not peace, but turmoil.\" Destruction follows on my heels everywhere. Will there ever be anywhere I do not tear apart? \"What will be, will be, Rhuarc. I can't change it.\"\n\n\"What will be, will be,\" the Aielman murmured after a moment.\n\nCouladin still strode up and down, shouting to the Aiel of glory and conquest, unaware of the clan chiefs staring at his back. Sevanna did not look at Couladin at all; her pale green eyes were intent on the clan chiefs, lips pulled back in a grimace, breasts heaving with anxious breaths. She had to know what their silent stares meant.\n\n\"Rand al'Thor,\" Bael said loudly, the name slicing through Couladin's shouts, cutting off the roar of the crowd like a blade. He stopped to clear his throat, head swinging as though seeking away out of this. Couladin turned, folding his arms confidently, no doubt expecting a sentence of death for the wetlander. The very tall clan chief took a deep breath. \"Rand al'Thor is the Car'a\"carn. Rand al'Thor is He Who Comes With the Dawn.\" Couladin's eyes widened in incredulous fury." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Rand al'Thor is He Who Comes With the Dawn,\" leathery-faced Han announced, just as reluctantly.\n\n\"Rand al'Thor is He Who Comes With the Dawn.\" That from Jheran, grimly, and from Erim, \"Rand al'Thor is He Who Comes With the Dawn.\"\n\n\"Rand al'Thor,\" Rhuarc said, \"is He Who Comes With the Dawn.\" Ina voice too soft to carry even from the ledge, he added, \"And the Light have mercy onus.\"\n\nFora long, stretched moment the silence lasted. Then Couladin leaped snarling from the ledge, snatching a spear from one of his Seia Doon, hurling it straight at Rand. Yet as he moved down, Adelin leaped up; his spearpoint stabbed through the layered bullhide of her outstretched buckler, swinging her around.\n\nPandemonium exploded through the canyon, men shouting and shoving. The other Jindo Maidens jumped up beside Adelin, forming a screen in front of Rand. Sevanna had climbed down to shout urgently at Couladin, hanging on his arm as he tried to lead his Shaido Black Eyes against the Maidens between him and Rand. Heirn and a dozen more Taardad sept chiefs joined Adelin, spears ready, but others were shouting loudly. Mat scrambled up, gripping his black-hafted spear with its raven-marked sword point, roaring what had to be curses in the Old Tongue. Rhuarc and the other clan chiefs raised their voices, vainly trying to restore order. The canyon boiled like a cauldron. Rand saw veils lifted. A spear flashed, stabbing. Another. He had to stop this,\n\nHe reached out for saidin, and it flooded into him until he thought he would burst if he did not burn first; the filth of the taint spreading through him seemed to curdle his bones. Thought floated outside the Void; cold thought. Water. Here where water was so scarce, the Aiel always talked of water. Even in this dry air there was some water. He channeled, not really knowing what he did, reached out blindly." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sharp lightning crackled above Alcair Dal, and the wind rushed in from every direction, howling across the lip of the canyon to drown the Aiel's shouts. Wind, bringing minute traces of water, more and more, until something happened no man had ever seen there. A mist of rain began to fall. The wind above shrieked and swirled. Wild lightnings streaked the sky. And the rain grew heavier and heavier, to a driving downpour, sweeping over the ledge, plastering his hair to his head and his shirt to his back, blanking out everything fifty paces away.\n\nAbruptly the rain stopped hitting him; and invisible dome expanded around him, pushing Mat and the Taardad away. Through the water pouring down inside he could dimly see Adelin pounding at it, trying to force her way through to him.\n\n\"You utter fool, playing games with these other fools! Wasting all my planning and effort!\"\n\nWater dripped down his face as he turned to face Lanfear. Her silver-belted white dress was perfectly dry, the black waves of her hair untouched by a single raindrop among the silver stars and crescents. Those large black eyes stared at him furiously; anger twisted her beautiful face.\n\n\"I didn't expect you to reveal yourself yet,\" he said quietly, the Power still filled him; he rode the buffeting torrents, holding on with a desperation he kept out of his voice. It was not necessary to pull in more, only to let it come till it seemed his bones would crisp to ash. He did not know if she could shield him while saidin actually roared through him, but he let it fill him against the possibility. \"I know you are not alone. Where is he?\"\n\nLanfear's beautiful mouth tightened. \"I knew he would give himself away, coming into your dream. I could have managed matters if his panic-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I knew from the start,\" he broke in. \"I expected it from the day I left the Stone of Tear. Out here, where anyone could see I was fixed on Rhuidean and the Aiel. Do you think I did not expect some of you to come after me? But the trap is mine, Lanfear, not yours. Where is he?\" The last came as a cold shout. Emotion skittered uncontrollably around the Void that surrounded him inside, the emptiness that was not empty, the emptiness filled with the Power.\n\n\"If you knew,\" she snapped back, \"why did you chase him away with your talk of fulfilling your destiny, of doing what has to be done?\" Scorn weighted the words like stones. \"I brought Asmodean to teach you, but he was always one to leap to another plan if the first proved difficult. Now he thinks he has found something better for himself in Rhuidean. And he is off to take it while you stand here. Couladin, the Draghkar, all to hold your attention while he made sure. All my plans for nothing because you must be stubborn! Do you have any idea what effort it will take to convince him again? It must be him. Demandred or Rahvin or Sammael would kill you before teaching you to lift a hand unless they have you bound like a dog at heel!\"\n\nRhuidean. Yes. Of course. Rhuidean. How many weeks to the south? Yet he had done something once. If he could remember how...\"And you let him go? After all your talk of aiding me?\"\n\n\"Not openly, I said! What could he find in Rhuidean worth my coming into the open? When you agree to stand with me will be time enough. Remember what I told you, Lews Therin.\" Her voice took on a seductive note; those full lips curved, those dark eyes tried to swallow him like bottomless pools. \"Two great sa'angreal. With those, together, we can. challenge-\" This time she stopped on her own. He had remembered." }, { "from": "human", "value": "With the Power he folded reality, bent a small patch of what was." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A door opened beneath the dome in front of him. That was the only way to describe it. An opening into darkness, into somewhere else.\n\n\"You do remember a few things, it seems.\" She eyed the doorway, shifted that suddenly suspicious gaze to him. \"Why are you so anxious? What is in Rhuidean?\"\n\n\"Asmodean,\" he said grimly. Fora moment he hesitated. He could not see beyond the rain-drenched dome. What was happening out there? And Lanfear. If only he could remember how he had shielded Egwene and Elayne. If only I could make myself kill a woman who's only frowning at me. She is one of the Forsaken! It was no more possible now than it had been in the Stone.\n\nStepping through the door, he left heron the ledge and closed it behind him. No doubt she knew how to make one of her own, but the making of it would slow her down." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Darkness surrounded him once the door vanished, blackness stretching in all directions, yet he could see. There was no sensation of heat or cold, even wet as he was; no sensation at all. Only existence. Plain gray stone steps rose in front of him, each step hanging unsupported, arching out until they dwindled from sight. He had seen these before, or their like; somehow he knew they would take him where he had to go. He ran up the impossible stairs, and as his boot left each one behind with its damp footprint, it faded away, vanished. Only steps ahead waited, only those taking him where he had to go. That was as it had been before, too.\n\nDid I make these with the Power, or do they exist some other way?\n\nWith the thought, the gray stone under his foot began to fade, and all the others ahead shimmered. Desperately he concentrated on them, gray stone and real. Real! The shimmering stopped. They were not so plain now, but polished, the edges carved in a fancy border he thought he recalled seeing somewhere before.\n\nNot caring where-not sure he dared think too long on it-he ran as hard as he could, taking the steps three at a time through the endless dark. They would take him where he wanted to go, but how long would it take? How much head start did Asmodean have? Did the Forsaken know a faster way to travel? That was the trouble. The Forsaken had all the knowledge; all he had was desperation.\n\nLooking ahead, he winced. The steps had accommodated themselves to his long stride, with wide spaces between requiring those leaps now, across black as deep as... as what? A fall here might never end. He forced himself to ignore the gaps, to keep running. The old, half-healed wound in his side began to throb, a vague awareness. But if he was aware of it at all, wrapped inside saidin, the wound was close to breaking open. Ignore it. The thought floated across the Void inside him. He did not dare lose this race, not if it killed him. Would these steps never stop climbing? How far had he come?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Suddenly he saw a figure in the distance ahead and off to his left, a man it seemed, in a redcoat and red boots, standing on a glistening silvery platform that slid through the darkness. Rand needed no closer look to be sure it was Asmodean. The Forsaken was not running like a half-spent country boy; he was riding that whatever-it-was.\n\nRand stopped dead on one of the stone steps. He had no idea what that platform was, shining like polished metal, but... The steps ahead of him vanished. The piece of stone beneath his boots began to glide forward, faster and faster. There was no wind in his face to tell him he was moving, nothing in that vast black to mark motion at all-except that he was beginning to catch up to Asmodean. He did not know if he was doing this with the Power; it just seemed to happen. The step wobbled and he made himself stop wondering. I don't know enough yet.\n\nThe dark-haired man stood at his ease, one hand on a hip, pensively fingering his chin. A spill of white lace dripped from his neck; more half-hid his hands. His high-collared redcoat seemed shinier than silk satin, and was oddly cut, with tails hanging almost to his knees. What seemed to be black threads, like fine steel wires, ran off from the man, disappearing into the surrounding dark. Those Rand had surely seen before.\n\nAsmodean turned his head, and Rand gaped. The Forsaken could change their faces-or at least make you see a different face; he had seen Lanfear do it-but these were the features of Jasin Natael, the gleeman. He had been sure it would be Kadere, with his predatory eyes that never changed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Asmodean saw him at the same moment and gave a start." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Forsaken's silver perch darted forward-and suddenly a huge sheet of fire, like a thin slice from a monstrous flame, sweptback toward Rand, a mile high and a mile wide.\n\nHe channeled at it desperately; just as it was about to strike him, it suddenly burst into shards, hurtling away from him, winking out. Yet even as the fiery curtain vanished it revealed another rushing at him. He shattered that, exposing another, splintered the third to reveal a fourth. Asmodean was getting away, Rand was sure of it. He could not seethe Forsaken at all for the flames. Anger slid across the surface of the Void, and he channeled.\n\nA wave of fire enveloped the crimson curtain sweeping toward him and rolled on, carrying it away, not a thin slice, but wild, billowing gouts as if whipped by stormwinds. He quivered with the Power roaring through him; anger at Asmodean clawed at the surface of the Void.\n\nA hole appeared in the erupting surface. No, not a hole exactly. Asmodean and his shining platform stood in the middle of it; but as the flaming wave washed forward it slid together again. The Forsaken had built some sort of shield around himself.\n\nRand made himself ignore the distant anger outside the Void. It was only in cold calm that he could touch saidin; acknowledging anger would shatter the Void. The billows of fire ceased to exist as he stopped channeling. He had to catch the man, not kill him.\n\nThe stone step slid through the blackness even faster. Asmodean drew closer.\n\nAbruptly the Forsaken's platform stopped. A bright hole appeared in front of him, and he jumped through; the silvery thing vanished, and the door began to close." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rand lashed out wildly with the Power. He had to hold it open; once it closed, he would have no idea where Asmodean had fled. The shrinking stopped. A square of harsh sunlight, big enough to step through. He had to hold it open, reach it before Asmodean could go too far...\n\nEven as he thought about stopping, the step halted dead. It halted, but he hurtled forward, flying through the doorway. Something tugged his boot, and then he was tumbling head over heels across hard ground, to land finally in a breathless heap.\n\nFighting to fill his lungs, he pushed himself to his feet, not daring to let himself be helpless a moment. The One Power still filled him with life and vileness; his bruises felt as distant as his struggle for breath, as far off as the yellow dust that covered his damp clothes, covered him. Yet at the same time he was aware of every stir of furnace air, every grain of dust, every minute crack in the hard-baked clay. Already the sun was baking away the moisture, sucking it from his shirt and breeches. He was in the Waste, in the valley below Chaendaer, not fifty steps from fog-shrouded Rhuidean. The doorway was gone.\n\nHe took a step toward the wall of mist and stopped, lifting his left foot. His bootheel was sliced cleanly though. The tug he had felt; the doorway closing. He was dimly aware of shivering in spite of the heat. He had not known it was that dangerous. The Forsaken had all the knowledge. Asmodean would not escape him.\n\nGrimly he adjusted his clothes, tucking the carved little man and his sword firmly in place, ran to the fog and in. Gray blindness enveloped him. The Power filling him did nothing to make him see better here. Running blind." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Abruptly he threw himself down, rolling the last stride out of the fog onto gritty paving stones. Lying there, he stared up at three bright ribbons, silver-blue in the strange light of Rhuidean, stretching to left and right, floating in the air. When he stood, they were at the level of his waist, chest and neck, and so thin that they vanished edge-on. He could see how they had been made and hung, even if he did not understand it. Hard as steel, sharp enough to make a razor seem a feather. Had he run into those, they would have sliced through him. A tiny surge of the Power, and the silver ribbons fell in dust. Cold anger, outside the Void; inside, cold purpose, and the One Power.\n\nThe bluish glow of the fog dome cast its shadowless light on the half-finished, slab-sided palaces of marble and crystal and cut glass, the cloud-piercing towers, fluted and spiraled. And down the broad street ahead of him ran Asmodean, past dry fountains, toward the great plaza at the heart of the city.\n\nRand channeled-it seemed oddly difficult; he pulled at saidin, wrenched at it until it raged into him-he channeled, and thick bolts of jagged lightning shot from the dome-clouds. Not at Asmodean, Just ahead of the Forsaken, gleaming pillars of red and white, fifty feet thick and a hundred paces high, centuries old, exploded and toppled across the street in rubble and clouds of dust.\n\nFrom huge windows of colored glass, images of majestically serene men and women seemed to look at Rand in reproof. \"I have to stop him,\" he told them; his voice seemed to echo in his own ears." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Asmodean paused, starting back from the collapsing masonry." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The dust drifting toward him never touched his shiny redcoat; it parted around him, leaving clear air.\n\nFire bloomed around Rand, enveloped him as the air became flame-and vanished before he was even aware of how he did it. His clothes were dry and hot; his hair felt singed, and baked dust fell at every step as he ran. Asmodean was scrambling over the broken stone blocking the street; more lightning flashed, raising gouts of shattered paving stone ahead of him, ripping open crystal palace walls to rain ruin before him.\n\nThe Forsaken did not slow, and as he vanished, lightning flashed from the glowing clouds toward Rand, stabbing blindly but meant to kill. Running, Rand wove a shield around himself. Shards of stone bounded from it as he dodged crackling blue bolts, leaped over the holes they tore in the pavement. The air itself sparkled; the hair of his arms lifted with it, the hair on his head stirred.\n\nThere was something woven into the barrier of shattered columns. He hardened the shield around himself. Great tumbled chunks of red and white stone exploded as he reached to climb, a burst of pure light and flying stone. Safe inside his bubble, he ran through, only vaguely aware of the rumble of collapsing buildings. He had to stop Asmodean. Straining-and it took strain-he threw lightning ahead, balls of fire ripping up out of the ground, anything to slow the red-coated man. He was catching up. He entered the plaza only a dozen paces behind. Trying to increase his speed, he redoubled his efforts at slowing Asmodean, and fleeing, Asmodean fought to kill him.\n\nThe ter'angreal and other precious things the Aiel had given their lives to bring here were hurled into the air by lightning, tossed wildly by spinning whirlwinds of fire, constructs of silver and crystal shattering, strange metal shapes toppling as the ground shivered and broke open in wide rents." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Searching wildly, Asmodean ran. And flung himself at what might seem the least significant thing in all that litter. A carved white stone figurine perhaps afoot long, lying on its back, a man holding a crystal sphere in one upraised hand. Asmodean closed his hands on it with an exultant cry.\n\nA heartbeat later, Rand's hands grasped it, too. For the barest instant he stared into the Forsaken's face; he looked no different than he had as a gleeman, except fora wild desperation in his dark eyes, a somewhat handsome man in his middle years-nothing at all to say he was one of the Forsaken. The barest instant, and they both reached through the figure, through the ter'angreal, for one of the two most powerful sa'angreal ever made.\n\nVaguely Rand was aware of a great, half-buried statue in far-off Cairhien, of the huge crystal sphere in its hand, glowing like the sun, pulsing with the One Power. And the Power in him surged up like all the seas of the world in storm. With this surely he could do anything; surely he could even have Healed that dead child. The taint swelled as much, curling \"round every particle of him, seeping into every crevice, into his soul. He wanted to howl; he wanted to explode. Yet he only held half what that sa'angreal could deliver; the other half filled Asmodean.\n\nBack and forth they straggled, tripping over scattered and broken ter'angreal, falling, neither daring to let goof the figure with even one finger for fear the other would pull it away. Yet as they rolled over and over, banging now against a redstone doorframe that somehow still stood, now against a fallen crystal statue lying on its side unbroken, a nude woman clasping a child to her breast, as they fought for possession of the ter'angreal, the battle was fought on another level, too." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Hammers of Power large enough to level mountains struck at Rand, and blades that could have pierced the earth's heart; unseen pincers tried to tear his mind from his body, ripped at his very soul. Every scrap of Power he could draw went to hurl those attacks away. Anyone could destroy him as if he had never been; he was sure of it. Where they went he could not be sure. The ground bounded beneath them, shaking them as they struggled, flinging them about in a writhing tangle of straining muscle. Dimly he was aware of vast rumbles, of a thousand whining hums like some strange music. The glass columns, quivering, vibrating. He could not worry about them.\n\nAll those nights without sleep were catching up to him, the running he had done on top of it. He was tired, and if he could even know it inside the Void, then he was near exhaustion. Tossed by the quaking earth, he realized he was no longer trying to pull the ter'angreal from Asmodean, only to hold on. Soon his strength would go. Even if he managed to retain his grip on the stone figure, he would have to let goof saidin or be swept away by the rush of it, destroyed as surely as Asmodean would do it. He could not pull another thread through the ter'angreal; he and Asmodean were equally balanced, each with half of what the great sa'angreal in Cairhien could draw. Asmodean panted in his face, snarling; sweat dripped from the Forsaken's forehead, ran down his cheeks. The man was tired, too. But as tired as he?\n\nThe flailing earth heaved Rand on top for an instant, and just as quickly spun Asmodean up, but in that brief moment Rand felt something pressed between them. The carving of the fat little man with the sword, still tucked into his waistband. An insignificant thing next to the immense Power they drew upon. A cup of water compared to avast river, to an ocean. He did not even know if he could use it while linked to the great sa'angreal. And if he could? Asmodean's teeth bared. Not a grimace, but a weary rictus of a smile; the man thought he was winning. Perhaps he was. Rand's fingers trembled, weakening around the ter'angreal; it was all he could do to hold onto saidin, even linked as he was to the huge sa'angreal." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He had not seen those strange things like black steel wires around Asmodean since leaving the dark place, but he could visualize them even in the Void, place them in his mind around the Forsaken. Tam had taught him the Void as an aid to archery, to be one with the bow, the arrow, the target. He made himself one with those imagined black wires. He barely saw Asmodean frown. The man must be wondering why his face had grown calm; there was always calm in the moment before the arrow was loosed. He reached through the small angreal in his waistband, and more of the Power flowed into him. He did not waste time on exulting; it was such a small flow beside what he already contained, and this was his final blow. This would use his final strength. He formed it like a sword of Power, a sword of Light, and struck; one with the sword, one with the imagined wires.\n\nAsmodean's eyes went wide, and he screamed, a howl from the depths of horror; like a struck gong the Forsaken quivered. For an instant there seemed to be two of him, shivering away from each other; then they slid back together. He fell over on his back, arms flung out in his now dirty, tattered redcoat, chest heaving; staring up at nothing, his dark eyes looked lost.\n\nAshe collapsed, Rand lost his hold on saidin, and the Power left him. He had barely enough strength to clutch the ter'angreal to his chest and roll away from Asmodean. Pushing himself to his knees felt like climbing a mountain; he huddled around the figure of the man with his crystal sphere.\n\nThe earth had stopped moving. The glass columns still stood-he was grateful for that; destroying them would have been like obliterating the history of the Aiel-but Avendesora, that had lived three thousand years in legend and truth, Avendesora blazed like a torch, and as for the rest of Rhuidean..." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The plaza looked as if everything had been picked up and flung about by a mad giant." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Half the great palaces and towers were only heaps of rubble, some spilling into the square; huge toppled columns marred others, and fallen walls, and empty gaps where huge windows of colored glass had been. A rift ran the whole way across the city, a split in the earth fifty feet wide. The destruction did not end there. The dome of fog that had hidden Rhuidean for so many centuries was dissipating; the underside no longer glowed, and harsh sunlight poured through great new gaps. Beyond, Chaendaer's peak looked different, lower, and on the other side of the valley some of the mountains were definitely lower. Where one mountain had stood, a fan of stone and dirt stretched across the north end of the valley.\n\nI destroy. Always I destroy! Light, will it ever end?\n\nAsmodean rolled onto his belly, pushed to hands and knees. His eyes found Rand, and the ter'angreal, and he made as if to crawl toward them.\n\nRand could not have channeled a spark, but he had learned how to fight before his first nightmare of channeling. He lifted a fist. \"Don't even think about it.\" The Forsaken stopped, swaying wearily. His face sagged, yet despair and desire warred across it; hate and fear glittered in his eyes.\n\n\"I do like to see men fight, but you two cannot even stand.\" Lanfear moved into Rand's view, surveying the devastation. \"You have made a thorough job of it. Can you feel the traces? This place was shielded in someway. You did not leave enough for me to say how.\" Dark eyes suddenly bright, she knelt in front of Rand, peering at what he held. \"So that is what he was after. I thought they were all destroyed. Only half remains of the single one I have seen; a fine trap for some unwary Aes Sedai.\" She putout a hand, and he clutched the ter'angreal tighter. Her smile did not touch her eyes. \"Keep it, certainly. Tome it is no more than a figurine.\" Rising, she dusted her white skirts though they did not need it. When she realized he was watching her, she stopped searching the rubble-strewn plaza with her eyes, made her smile brighter. \"What you used was one of the two sa'angreal I told you of. Did you feel the immensity of it? I have wondered what it must be like.\" She seemed unaware of the hunger in her voice. \"With those, together, we can displace the Great Lord of the Dark himself. We can, Lews Therin! Together.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Help me!\" Asmodean crawled toward her unsteadily, his upraised face painted in dread. \"You don't know what he has done. You must help me. I would not have come here if not for you.\"\n\n\"What has he done?\" she sniffed. \"Beaten you like a dog, and not half so well as you deserve. You were never meant for greatness, Asmodean, only to follow those who are great.\"\n\nSomehow Rand managed to stand, still holding the stone-and-crystal figure to his chest. He would not continue on his knees in her presence. \"You Chosen\"-he knew taunting her was dangerous, but he could not stop himself-\"gave your souls to the Dark One. You let him attach himself to you.\" How many times had he replayed his battle with Ba'alzamon? How many times before he began to suspect what those black wires were? \"I cut him off from the Dark One, Lanfear. I cut him off!\"\n\nHer eyes widened in shock, staring from him to Asmodean. The man had begun to weep. \"I did not think that was possible. Why? Do you think to bring him to the Light? You've changed nothing about him.\"\n\n\"He is still the same man who gave himself to the Shadow in the first place,\" Rand agreed. \"You told me how little you Chosen trust one another. How long could he keep it secret? How many of you would believe he didn't do it himself somehow? I am glad you thought it impossible; maybe the rest of you will as well. You gave me the whole idea, Lanfear. A man to teach me how to control the Power. But I won't be taught by a man linked to the Dark One. Now I don't have to be. He maybe the same man, but he doesn't have much choice, does he? He can stay and teach me, hope I win, help me win, or he can hope the rest of you don't take the excuse to turn on him. Which do you think he'll choose?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Asmodean stared wild-eyed at Rand from his crouch, then thrust out a pleading hand toward Lanfear." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They will believe you! You can tell them! I would not be here except for you! You must tell them! I am faithful to the Great Lord of the Dark!\"\n\nLanfear stared at Rand, too. For the first time ever that he had seen, she looked uncertain. \"How much do you remember, Lews Therin? How much is you, and how much the shepherd? This is the sort of plan you might have devised when we-\" Drawing a deep breath, she turned her head to Asmodean. \"Yes, they will believe me. When I tell them you went over to Lews Therin. Everyone knows you will leap wherever you think your best chance lies. There.\" She nodded to herself in satisfaction. \"Another little present for you, Lews Therin. That shield will allow a trickle through, enough for him to teach. It will dissipate with time, but he'll not be able to challenge you for months, and by that time he will have no choice but to remain with you. He was never very good at breaking through a shield; you must be willing to accept pain, and he never could.\"\n\n\"NOOOOOO!\" Asmodean crawled toward her. \"You cannot do this tome! Please, Mierin! Please!\"\n\n\"My name is Lanfear!\" Rage twisted her face to ugliness, and the man lifted into the air, spread-eagled; his clothes pressed to him and the flesh of his face distorted, spread out like butter under a rock.\n\nRand could not let her kill the man, but he was too tired to touch the True Source unaided; he could barely sense it, a dim glow just out of sight. For an instant his hands tightened on the stone man with the crystal sphere. If he reached through to the huge sa'angreal in Cairhien again now, that much of the Power might destroy him. Instead, he reached through the carving in his waistband; with the angreal, it was a feeble flow, a hair-thin trickle compared to the other, but he was too weary to pull more. He hurled it all between the two Forsaken, hoping to distract her if nothing, else." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A bar of white-hot fire ten feet tall streaked between the pair in a blur surrounded by arcing blue lightning, searing apace-deep groove across the square, a smooth-sided gash glowing with melted earth and stone; the fiery shaft struck a green-streaked palace wall and exploded, the roar buried in the rumble of collapsing marble. On one side of the melted slash Asmodean dropped to the pavement in a shuddering heap, blood trickling from nose and ears; on the other, Lanfear staggered back as if struck, then rounded on Rand. He swayed with the effort of what he had done, and lost saidin once more.\n\nFora moment rage engorged her face as deeply as it had for Asmodean. Fora moment Rand stood on the brink of death. Then fury vanished with startling abruptness, buried behind a seductive smile. \"No, I mustn't kill him. Not after we have gone to so much effort.\" Moving closer, she reached up to stroke the side of his neck, where her bite from the dream was just healing; he had not let Moiraine know of it. \"You still bear my mark. Shall I make it permanent?\"\n\n\"Did you harm anyone at Alcair Dal, or in the camps?\"\n\nHer face never stopped smiling, but her caress changed, fingers suddenly poised as if to rip out his throat. \"Such as who? I thought you had realized you did not love that little farmgirl. Or is it the Aiel jade?\" A viper. A deadly viper who loved him-The Light help me!-and he did not know how to stop her if she decided to bite, whether him or someone else.\n\n\"I don't want anyone hurt. I need them yet. I can use them.\" It was painful saying that, painful for the amount of truth in it. But keeping Lanfear's fangs out of Egwene and Moiraine, away from Aviendha and anyone else close to him, that was worth a little pain." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Throwing back her beautiful head, she laughed like chiming bells. \"I can remember when you were too softhearted to use anyone. Devious in battle, hard as stone and arrogant as the mountains, but open and softhearted as a girl! No, I did not harm any of your precious Aes Sedai, or your precious Aiel. I do not kill without cause, Lews Therin. I do not even hurt without cause.\" He was careful not to look at Asmodean; white-faced, drawing jagged breaths, the man had pushed upon one hand, using the other to wipe blood from his mouth and chin.\n\nTurning slowly, Lanfear surveyed the great square. \"You have destroyed this city as well as any army could have.\" But it was not the ruined palaces she stared at, though she pretended; it was the broken square with its jumbled litter of ter'angreal and who knew what else. The corners of her mouth were tight when she turned back to Rand; her dark eyes held a spark of suppressed anger. \"Use his teachings well, Lews Therin. The others are still out there, Sammael with his envy of you, Demandred with his hate, Rahvin with his thirst for power. They will be more eager to bring you down, not less, if-when-they discover you hold that.\"\n\nHer gaze flickered to the foot-tall figure in his hands, and for an instant he thought she was considering taking it from him. Not to keep the others from his back, but because with it he might be too powerful for her to handle. Right then he was not certain he could stop her if she used nothing but her hands. One instant she was weighing whether to leave the ter'angreal in his possession, the next measuring his tiredness. However much she talked of loving him, she would want to be far from him when he regained enough strength to use the thing. Briefly she scanned the plaza again, lips pursed; then abruptly a door opened beside her, not a door to blackness, but into what seemed a palace chamber, all carved white marble and white silk hangings." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Which one were you?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "he said as she stepped toward it, and she paused, looking over a shoulder at him with an almost coy smile.\n\n\"Do you think I could stand to be fat, ugly Keille?\" She ran hands down her rounded slimness for emphasis. \"Isendre, now. Slim, beautiful Isendre. I thought if you suspected, you would suspect her. My pride is strong enough to support a little fat, when it must.\" The smile became a baring of teeth. \"Isendre thought she was dealing with simple Friends of the Dark. I would not be surprised if right now she is frantically trying to explain to some angry Aiel women why a large quantity of their gold necklaces and bracelets are in the bottom of her chest. She actually did steal some of them herself.\"\n\n\"I thought you said you didn't harm anyone!\"\n\n\"Now your soft heart shows. I can show a tender, woman's heart when I choose. You'll not be able to save her being welted, I think-she deserves that for the least of the looks she gave me-but if you return quickly, you can prevent them sending her off with one waterskin to walkout of this blighted land. They are quite hard on thieves, it seems, these Aiel.\" She gave an amused laugh, shaking her head in wonder. \"So different from what they were. You could slap a Da'shain's face, and all he did was ask what he had done. Slap again, and he asked if he had offended. He would not change if you continued all day.\" Giving Asmodean a contemptuous sidelong look, she added, \"Learn well and quickly, Lews Therin. I mean us to rule together, not to watch Sammael kill you or Graendal add you to her collection of handsome young men. Learn well and quickly.\" She stepped into the chamber of white marble and silk, and the doorway seemed to turn sideways, narrowed, vanished." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Rand drew the first deep breath he had taken since her appearance." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Mierin. A name remembered from the glass columns. The woman who had found the Dark One's prison in the Age of Legends, who had bored into it. Had she known what it was? How had she escaped that fiery doom he had seen? Had she given herself to the Dark One even then?\n\nAsmodean was struggling to his feet, unsteady and nearly falling again. He no longer bled, but blood still traced thin lines from his ears down the sides of his neck, made a smear across his mouth and chin. His filthy redcoat was torn, his white lace ripped and snagged. \"It was my link to the Great Lord that allowed me to touch saidin without going mad,\" he said hoarsely. \"All you have done is make meas vulnerable as you. You might as well let me go. I am not a very good teacher. She only chose me because-\" His lips writhed, trying to pull the words back.\n\n\"Because there isn't anyone else,\" Rand finished for him and turned away.\n\nOn tottering legs Rand crossed the broad square, picking his way through the litter. He and Asmodean had been flung halfway around the forest of glass columns from Avendesora. Crystal plinths lay against fallen statues of men and women, some broken in chunks, some not even chipped. A great flat ring of silvery metal had been flipped upon chairs of metal and stone, strange shapes in metal and crystal and glass, all mixed in a heap with shattered bits, a black metal shaft like a spear standing upright, improbably balanced on the pile. The entire plaza was like that.\n\nOut from the great tree, a little searching among the jumble found what he sought. Kicking aside pieces of what seemed to be spiraled glass tubes, he shoved a plain-carved chair of red crystal aside and picked up afoot-tall figurine, a robed woman with a serene face, worked in white stone, holding up a clear sphere in one hand. Unbroken. As useless to him, or to any man, as its male twin was to Lanfear. He considered breaking it. One swing of his arm could shatter that crystal globe on the paving stones, surely." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"She was looking for that.\" He had not realized Asmodean had followed him. Wavering, the man scrubbed at his bloody mouth. \"She will rip your heart out to put her hands on it.\"\n\n\"Or yours, for keeping it secret from her. She loves me.\" Light help me. Like being loved by a rabid wolf! After a moment he put the female statue in the crook of his arm with the male. There might be a use for it. And I don't want to destroy anything else.\n\nYet as he looked around, he saw something besides destruction. The fog was almost gone from the ruined city; only a few wispy sheets remained to drift among the buildings still standing beneath the sinking sun. The valley floor tilted sharply to the south now, and water spilled out of the great rent across the city, the gash that went all the way down to where that deep hidden ocean of water lay. Already the lower end of the valley was filling. A lake. It might reach nearly to the city eventually, a lake maybe three miles long in a land where a pool ten feet across drew people. People would come to this valley to live. He could almost seethe surrounding mountains already terraced with crops growing green. They would tend Avendesora, the last chora tree. Perhaps they would even rebuild Rhuidean. The Waste would have a city. Perhaps he would even live to see it.\n\nWith the angreal, the round little man with his sword, he was able to open a doorway to blackness. Asmodean stepped through with him reluctantly, sneering faintly when a single carved stone step appeared, just wide enough for the two of them. Still the same man who had given himself to the Dark One. His calculating, sideways glances were reminder enough of that, if Rand needed any." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They only spoke twice as the step soared through the darkness.\n\nOnce Rand said, \"I cannot call you Asmodean.\"\n\nThe man shivered. \"My name was Joar Addam Nesossin,\" he said at last. He sounded as if he had stripped himself bare, or lost something.\n\n\"I can't use that either. Who knows what scrap holds that name somewhere? The idea is to keep someone from killing you fora Forsaken.\" And to keep anyone from knowing he had a Forsaken for teacher. \"You will have to goon being Jasin Natael, I think. Gleeman to the Dragon Reborn. Excuse enough for keeping you close.\" Natael grimaced, but said nothing.\n\nA little later, Rand said, \"The first thing you'll show me is how to guard my dreams.\" The man only nodded, sullenly. He would cause problems, but they could not be as large as the problems of ignorance.\n\nThe step slowed, stopped, and Rand folded again. The doorway opened on the ledge in Alcair Dal.\n\nThe rain had stopped, though the evening-shadowed floor of the canyon was still sodden, churned to mud by Aiel feet. Fewer Aiel than before, perhaps as many as a fourth fewer. But not fighting. Staring at the ledge, where Moiraine and Egwene, Aviendha and the Wise Ones had joined the clan chiefs, who stood talking with Lan. Mat was squatting a little distance from them, hat brim pulled down and black-hafted spear propped on his shoulder, Adelin and her Maidens standing around him. They gaped as Rand stepped out of the doorway, stared more when Natael followed in his tattered shiny redcoat and white lace. Mat jumped to his feet with a grin, and Aviendha half-raised a hand toward him. The Aiel in the canyon watched silently." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Before anyone could speak, Rand said, \"Adelin, would you send someone out to the fair and tell them to stop beating Isendre? She is not as big a thief as they think.\" The yellow-haired woman looked startled, but immediately spoke to one of the Maidens, who dashed off.\n\n\"How did you know about that?\" Egwene exclaimed, at the same time Moiraine demanded, \"Where have you been? How?\" Her wide dark eyes darted from him to Natael, her Aes Sedai calm nowhere in evidence. And the Wise Ones...? Sun-haired Melaine looked ready to drag answers out of him with her bare hands. Bair scowled as though she meant to switch them out. Amys shifted her shawl and ran fingers through her pale hair, unable to decide whether she was worried or relieved.\n\nAdelin handed him his coat, still damp. He wrapped it around the two stone figures. Moiraine was considering those, too. He did not know if she even suspected what they were, but he intended to hide them as best he could from anyone. If he could not trust himself with Callandor \"s power, how much less with the great sa'angreal? Not until he had learned more of how to control it, and himself.\n\n\"What happened here?\" he asked, and the Aes Sedai's mouth tightened at being ignored. Egwene did not look much more pleased.\n\n\"The Shaido have gone, behind Sevanna and Couladin,\" Rhuarc said. \"All who remain acknowledge you as Car'a\"carn.\"\n\n\"The Shaido were not the only ones who fled.\" Han's leathery face twisted sourly. \"Some of my Tomanelle went as well. And Goshien, and Shaarad, and Chareen.\" Jheran and Erim nodded almost as dourly as Han." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Not with the Shaido,\" tall Bael rumbled, \"but they went." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They will spread what happened here, what you revealed. That was ill done. I saw men throwaway their spears and run!\"\n\nHe will bind you together, and destroy you.\n\n\"No Taardad left,\" Rhuarc put in, not pridefully but as a simple statement of fact. \"We are ready to go where you lead.\"\n\nWhere he led. He was not done with the Shaido, with Couladin, or Sevanna. Scanning the Aiel around the canyon he could see shaken faces, for all they had chosen to stay. What must those who had run be like? Yet the Aiel were only a means to an end. He had to remember that. I have to be even harder than they.\n\nJeade'en waited beside the ledge with Mat's gelding. Motioning Natael to stay close, Rand climbed into the saddle, coat-wrapped bundle secure under his arm. Mouth twisted, the once Foresaken came to standby his left stirrup. Adelin and her remaining Maidens leaped down to form around them, and surprisingly, Aviendha climbed down to take her usual place on his right. Mat jumped to Pips's saddle in one bound.\n\nRand looked backup at the people on the ledge, all of them watching, waiting. \"It will be along road back.\" Bael turned his face away. \"Long, and bloody.\" The Aiel faces did not change. Egwene half stretched out a hand toward him, eyes pained, but he ignored her. \"When the rest of the clan chiefs come, it begins.\"\n\n\"It began long ago,\" Rhuarc said quietly. \"The question is where and how it ends.\"\n\nFor that, Rand had no answer. Turning the dapple, he rode slowly across the canyon, surrounded by his peculiar retinue. Aiel parted in front of him, staring, waiting. The night's cold was already coming on." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And when the blood was sprinkled on ground where nothing could grow, the Children of the Dragon did spring up, the People of the Dragon, armed to dance with death. And he did call them forth from the wasted lands, and they did shake the world with battle.\n\n-from The Wheel of Time by Sulamein so Bhagad, Chief Historian at the Court of the Sun, the Fourth Age" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Take on the role of the writer's aide and proceed with the narrative.\nTags: fantasy, chronicle of narnia, rescue mission\nAuthor: C.S. Lewis\nTitle: The Silver Chair\nChapter: 15" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Harfang!\" cried Scrubb and Jill in glad, excited voices; and'Harfang,\" repeated Puddleglum in a dull, gloomy voice. But he added, \"Hullo! Wild geese!\" and had the bow off his shoulder in a second. He brought down a good fat goose. It was far too late to think of reaching Harfang that day. But they had a hot meal and afire, and started the night warmer than they had been for over a week. After the fire had gone out, the night grew bitterly cold, and when they woke next morning, their blankets were stiff with frost.\n\n\"Never mind!\" said Jill, stamping her feet. \"Hot baths tonight!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "THERE Is no denying it was a beast of a day. Overhead was a sunless sky, muffled in clouds that were heavy with snow; underfoot, a black frost; blowing over it, a wind that felt as if it would take your skin off. When they got down into the plain they found that this part of the ancient road was much more ruinous than any they had yet seen. They had to pick their way over great broken stones and between boulders and across rubble: hard going for sore feet. And, however tired they got, it was far too cold fora halt.\n\nAt about ten o'clock the first tiny snowflakes came loitering down and settled on Jill's arm. Ten minutes later they were falling quite thickly. In twenty minutes the ground was noticeably white. And by the end of half an hour a good steady snowstorm, which looked as if it meant to last all day, was driving in their faces so that they could hardly see.\n\nIn order to understand what followed, you must keep on remembering how little they could see. As they drew near the low hill which separated them from the place where the lighted windows had appeared, they had no general view of it at all. It was a question of seeing the next few paces ahead, and, even for that, you had to screw up your eyes. Needless to say, they were not talking.\n\nWhen they reached the foot of the hill they caught a glimpse of what might be rocks on each side-squarish rocks, if you looked at them carefully, but no one did. All were more concerned with the ledge right in front of them which barred their way. It was about four feet high. The Marsh-wiggle, with his long legs, had no difficulty in jumping onto the top of it, and he then helped the others up. It was a nasty wet business for them, though not for him, because the snow now lay quite deep on the ledge. They then had a stiff climb-Jill fell once-up very rough ground for about a hundred yards, and came to a second ledge. There were four of these ledges altogether, at quite irregular intervals." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As they struggled onto the fourth ledge, there was no mistaking the fact that they were now at the top of the flat hill. Up till now the slope had given them some shelter; here, they got the full fury of the wind. For the hill, oddly enough, was quite as flat on top as it had looked from a distance: a great level tableland which the storm tore across without resistance. Inmost places the snow was still hardly lying at all, for the wind kept catching it up off the ground in sheets and clouds, and hurling it in their faces. And round their feet little eddies of snow ran about as you sometimes see them doing over ice. And, indeed, in many places, the surface was almost as smooth as ice. But to make matters worse it was crossed and crisscrossed with curious banks or dykes, which sometimes divided it up into squares and oblongs. All these of course had to be climbed; they varied from two to five feet in height and were about a couple of yards thick. On the north side of each bank the snow already lay in deep drifts; and after each climb you came down into adrift and got wet.\n\nFighting her way forward with hood up and head down and numb hands inside her cloak, Jill had glimpses of other odd things on that horrible tableland-things on her right that looked vaguely like factory chimneys, and, on her left, a huge cliff, straighter than any cliff ought to be. But she wasn't at all interested and didn't give them a thought. The only things she thought about were her cold hands (and nose and chin and ears) and hot baths and beds at Harfang.\n\nSuddenly she skidded, slid about five feet, and found herself to her horror sliding down into a dark, narrow chasm which seemed that moment to have appeared in front of her. Half a second later she had reached the bottom. She appeared to be in a kind of trench or groove, only about three feet wide. And though she was shaken by the fall, almost the first thing she noticed was the relief of being out of the wind; for the walls of the trench rose high above her. The next thing she noticed was, naturally, the anxious faces of Scrubb and Puddleglum looking down at her from the edge." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Are you hurt, Pole?\" shouted Scrubb.\n\n\"Both legs broken, I shouldn't wonder,\" shouted Puddleglum.\n\nJill stood up and explained that she was all right, but they'd have to help her out.\n\n\"What is it you've fallen into?\" asked Scrubb.\n\n\"It's a kind of trench, or it might be a kind of sunken lane or something,\" said Jill. \"It runs quite straight.\"\n\n\"Yes, by Jove,\" said Scrubb. \"And it runs due north! I wonder is it a sort of road? If it was, we'd be out of this infernal wind down there. Is there a lot of snow at the bottom?\"\n\n\"Hardly any. It all blows over the top, I suppose.\"\n\n\"What happens farther on?\"\n\n\"Half a sec. I'll go and see,\" said Jill. She got up and walked along the trench; but before she had gone far, it turned sharply to the right. She shouted this information back to the others.\n\n\"What's round the corner?\" asked Scrubb.\n\nNow it happened that Jill had the same feeling about twisty passages and dark places underground, or even nearly underground, that Scrubb had about the edges of cliffs. She had no intention of going round that corner alone; especially when she heard Puddleglum bawling out from behind her:\n\n\"Be careful, Pole. It's just the sort of place that might lead to a dragon's cave. And in a giant country, there might be giant earth-worms or giant beetles.\"\n\n\"I don't think it goes anywhere much,\" said Jill, coming hastily back.\n\n\"I'm jolly well going to have a look,\" said Scrubb. \"What do you mean by anywhere much, I should like to know?\" So he sat down on the edge of the trench (everyone was too wet by now to bother about being a bit wetter) and then dropped in. He pushed past Jill and, though he didn't say anything, she felt sure that he knew she had funked it. So she followed him close, but took care not to get in front of him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It proved, however, a disappointing exploration. They went round the right-hand turn and straight on fora few paces. Here there was a choice of ways: straight on again, or sharp to the right. \"That's no good,\" said Scrubb, glancing down the right-hand turn, \"that would betaking us back-south.\" He went straight on, but once more, in a few steps, they found a second turn to the right. But this time there was no choice of ways, for the trench they had been following here came to a dead end.\n\n\"No good,\" grunted Scrubb. Jill lost no time in turning and leading the way back. When they returned to the place where Jill had first fallen in, the Marsh-wiggle with his long arms had no difficulty in pulling them out.\n\nBut it was dreadful to be out on top again. Down in those narrow slits of trenches, their ears had almost begun to thaw. They had been able to see clearly and breathe easily and hear each other speak without shouting. It was absolute misery to comeback into the withering coldness. And it did seem hard when Puddleglum chose that moment for saying:\n\n\"Are you still sure of those signs, Pole? What's the one we ought to be after, now?\"\n\n\"Oh, come on! Bother the signs,\" said Pole. \"Something about someone mentioning Aslan's name, I think. But I'm jolly well not going to give a recitation here.\"\n\nAs you see, she had got the order wrong. That was because she had given up saying the signs over every night. She still really knew them, if she troubled to think: but she was no longer so'pat\" in her lesson as to be sure of reeling them off in the right order at a moment's notice and without thinking. Puddleglum's question annoyed her because, deep down inside her, she was already annoyed with herself for not knowing the Lion's lesson quite so well as she felt she ought to have known it. This annoyance, added to the misery of being very cold and tired, made her say, \"Bother the signs.\" She didn't perhaps quite mean it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Oh, that was next, was it?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "said Puddleglum. \"Now I wonder, are you right? Got \"em mixed, I shouldn't wonder. It seems tome, this hill, this flat place we're on, is worth stopping to have a look at. Have you noticed-\"\n\n\"Oh Lor!\" said Scrubb, \"is this a time for stopping to admire the view? For goodness'sake let's get on.\"\n\n\"Oh, look, look, look,\" cried Jill and pointed. Everyone turned, and everyone saw. Someway off to the north, and a good deal higher up than the tableland on which they stood, a line of lights had appeared. This time, even more obviously than when the travellers had seen them the night before, they were windows: smaller windows that made one think deliciously of bedrooms, and larger windows that made one think of great halls with fires roaring on the hearth and hot soup or juicy sirloins smoking on the table.\n\n\"Harfang!\" exclaimed Scrubb.\n\n\"That's all very well,\" said Puddleglum. \"But what I was saying was-\"\n\n\"Oh, shut up,\" said Jill crossly. \"We haven't a moment to lose. Don't you remember what the Lady said about their locking up so early? We must get therein time, we must, we must. We'll die if we're shutout on a night like this.\"\n\n\"Well, it isn't exactly a night, not yet,\" began Puddleglum; but the two children both said, \"Come on,\" and began stumbling forward on the slippery tableland as quickly as their legs would carry them. The Marsh-wiggle followed them: still talking, but now that they were forcing their way into the wind again, they could not have heard him even if they had wanted to. And they didn't want. They were thinking of baths and beds and hot drinks; and the idea of coming to Harfang too late and being shutout was almost unbearable." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In spite of their haste, it took them along time to cross the flattop of that hill. And even when they had crossed it, there were still several ledges to climb down on the far side. But at last they reached the bottom and could see what Harfang was like.\n\nIt stood on a high crag, and in spite of its many towers was more a huge house than a castle. Obviously, the Gentle Giants feared no attack. There were windows in the outside wall quite close to the ground-a thing no one would have in a serious fortress. There were even odd little doors here and there, so that it would be quite easy to get in and out of the castle without going through the courtyard. This raised the spirits of Jill and Scrubb. It made the whole place look more friendly and less forbidding.\n\nAt first the height and steepness of the crag frightened them, but presently they noticed that there was an easier way upon the left and that the road wound up towards it. It was a terrible climb, after the journey they had already had, and Jill nearly gave up. Scrubb and Puddleglum had to help her for the last hundred yards.\n\nBut in the end they stood before the castle gate. The portcullis was up and the gate open.\n\nHowever tired you are, it takes some nerve to walk up to a giant's front door. In spite of all his previous warnings against Harfang, it was Puddleglum who showed most courage.\n\n\"Steady pace, now,\" he said. \"Don't look frightened, whatever you do. We've done the silliest thing in the world by coming at all: but now that we are here, we'd best put a boldface on it.\"\n\nWith these words he strode forward into the gateway, stood still under the arch where the echo would help his voice, and called out as loud as he could." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Ho! Porter! Guests who seek lodging.\"\n\nAnd while he was waiting for something to happen, he took off his hat and knocked off the heavy mass of snow which had gathered on its wide brim.\n\n\"I say,\" whispered Scrubb to Jill. \"He maybe a wet blanket, but he has plenty of pluck-and cheek.\"\n\nA door opened, letting out a delicious glow of firelight, and the Porter appeared. Jill bit her lips for fear she should scream. He was not a perfectly enormous giant; that is to say, he was rather taller than an apple tree but nothing like so tall as a telegraph pole. He had bristly red hair, a leather jerkin with metal plates fastened allover it so as to make a kind of mail shirt, bare knees (very hairy indeed) and things like puttees on his legs. He stooped down and goggled at Puddleglum.\n\n\"And what sort of creature do you call yourself,\" he said.\n\nJill took her courage in both hands. \"Please,\" she said, shouting up at the giant. \"The Lady of the Green Kirtle salutes the King of the Gentle Giants, and has sent us two Southern children and this Marsh-wiggle (his name's Puddleglum) to your Autumn Feast.-If it's quite convenient, of course,\" she added.\n\n\"Oho!\" said the Porter. \"That's quite a different story. Come in, little people, come in. You'd best come into the lodge while I'm sending word to his Majesty.\" He looked at the children with curiosity. \"Blue faces,\" he said. \"I didn't know they. were that colour. Don't care about it myself. But I daresay you look quite nice to one another. Beetles fancy other beetles, they do say.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Our faces are only blue with cold,\" said Jill. \"We're not this colour really.\"\n\n\"Then come in and get warm. Come in, little shrimps,\" said the Porter. They followed him into the lodge. And though it was rather terrible to hear such a big door clang shut behind them, they forgot about it as soon as they saw the thing they had been longing forever since suppertime last night-afire. And such afire! It looked as if four or five whole trees were blazing on it, and it was so hot they couldn't go within yards of it. But they all flopped down on the brick floor, as near as they could bear the heat, and heaved great sighs of relief.\n\n\"Now, youngster,\" said the Porter to another giant who had been sitting in the back of the room, staring at the visitors till it looked as if his eyes would start out of his head, \"run across with this message to the House.\" And he repeated what Jill had said to him. The younger giant, after a final stare, and a great guffaw, left the room.\n\n\"Now, Froggy,\" said the Porter to Puddleglum, \"you look as if you wanted some cheering up.\" He produced a black bottle very like Puddleglum's own, but about twenty times larger. \"Let me see, let me see,\" said the Porter. \" I can't give you a cup or you'll drown yourself. Let me see. This salt-cellar will be just the thing. You\n\nneedn't mention it over at the House. The silver will keep on getting over here, and it's not my fault.\"\n\nThe salt-cellar was not very like one of ours, being narrower and more upright, and made quite a good cup for Puddleglum, when the giant set it down on the floor beside him. The children expected Puddleglum to refuse it, distrusting the Gentle Giants as he did. But he muttered, \"It's rather late to bethinking of precautions now that we're inside and the door shut behind us.\" Then he sniffed at the liquor. \"Smells all right,\" he said. \"But that's nothing to go by. Better make sure,\" and took a sip. \"Tastes all right, too,\" he said. \"But it might do that at the first sip. How does it goon?\" He took a larger sip. \"Ah!\" he said. \"But is it the same all the way down?\" and took another. \"There'll be something nasty at the bottom, I shouldn't wonder,\" he said, and finished the drink. He licked his lips and remarked to the children, \"This'll be a test, you see. If I curl up, or burst, or turn into a lizard, or something, then you'll know not to take anything they offer you.\" But the giant, who was too far up to hear the things Puddleglum had been saying under his breath, roared with laughter and said, \"Why, Froggy, you're a man. See him put it away!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Not a man... Marsh-wiggle,\" replied Puddleglum in a somewhat indistinct voice. \"Not frog either: Marshwiggle.\"\n\nAt that moment the door opened behind them and the younger giant came in saying, \"They're to go to the throne-room at once.\"\n\nThe children stood up but Puddleglum remained sitting and said, \"Marsh-wiggle. Marsh-wiggle. Very respectable Marsh-wiggle. Respectowiggle.\"\n\n\"Show them the way, young \"un,\" said the giant Porter. \"You'd better carry Froggy. He's had a drop more than's good for him.\"\n\n\"Nothing wrong with me,\" said Puddleglum. \"Not a frog. Nothing frog with me. I'm a respectabiggle.\"\n\nBut the young giant caught him up by the waist and signed to the children to follow. In this undignified way they crossed the courtyard. Puddleglum, held in the giant's fist, and vaguely kicking the air, did certainly look very like a frog. But they had little time to notice this, for they soon entered the great doorway of the main castle-both their hearts beating faster than usual-and, after pattering along several corridors at a trot to keep up with the giant's paces, found themselves blinking in the light of an enormous room, where lamps glowed and afire roared on the hearth and both were reflected from the gilding of roof and cornice. More giants than they could count stood on their left and right, all in magnificent robes; and on two thrones at the far end, sat two huge shapes that appeared to be the King and Queen.\n\nAbout twenty feet from the thrones, they stopped. Scrubb and Jill made an awkward attempt at a bow (girls are not taught how to curtsey at Experiment House) and the young giant carefully put Puddleglum down on the floor, where he collapsed into a sort of sitting position. With his long limbs he looked, to tell the truth, uncommonly like a large spider." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Goon, Pole, do your stuff,\" whispered Scrubb.\n\nJill found that her mouth was so dry that she couldn't speak a word. She nodded savagely at Scrubb.\n\nThinking to himself that he would never forgive her (or Puddleglum either), Scrubb licked his lips and shouted up to the King giant.\n\n\"If you please, Sire, the Lady of the Green Kirtle salutes you by us and said you'd like to have us for your Autumn Feast.\"\n\nThe giant King and Queen looked at each other, nodded to each other, and smiled in away that Jill didn't exactly like. She liked the King better than the Queen. He had a fine, curled beard and a straight eagle-like nose, and was really rather good-looking as giants go. The Queen was dreadfully fat and had a double chin and a fat, powdered face-which isn't a very nice thing at the best of times, and of course looks much worse when it is ten times too big. Then the King putout his tongue and licked his lips. Anyone might do that: but his tongue was so very large and red, and came out so unexpectedly, that it gave Jill quite a shock.\n\n\"Oh, what good children!\" said the Queen. (\"Perhaps she's the nice one after all,\" thought Jill.)\n\n\"Yes indeed,\" said the King. \"Quite excellent children. We welcome you to our court. Give me your hands.\"\n\nHe stretched down his great right hand-very clean and with any number of rings on the fingers, but also with terrible pointed nails. He was much too big to shake the hands which the children, in turn, held up to him; but he shook the arms.\n\n\"And what's that?\" asked the King, pointing to Puddleglum." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Reshpeckobiggle,\" said Puddleglum.\n\n\"Oh!\" screamed the Queen, gathering her skirts close about her ankles. \"The horrid thing! It's alive.\"\n\n\"He's quite all right, your Majesty, really, he is,\" said Scrubb hastily. \"You'll like him much better when you get to know him. I'm sure you will.\"\n\nI hope you won't lose all interest in Jill for the rest of the book if I tell you that at this moment she began to cry. There was a good deal of excuse for her. Her feet and hands and ears and nose were still only just beginning to thaw; melted snow was trickling off her clothes; she had had hardly anything to eat or drink that day; and her legs were aching so that she felt she could not goon standing much longer. Anyway, it did more good at the moment than anything else would have done, for the Queen said:\n\n\"Ah, the poor child! My lord, we do wrong to keep our guests standing. Quick, some of you! Take them away. Give them food and wine and baths. Comfort the little girl. Give her lollipops, give her dolls, give her physics, give her all you can think of-possets and comfits and caraways and lullabies and toys. Don't cry, little girl, or you won't be good for anything when the feast comes.\"\n\nJill was just as indignant as you and I would have been at the mention of toys and dolls; and, though lollipops and comfits might be all very well in their way, she very much hoped that something more solid would be provided. The Queen's foolish speech, however, produced excellent results, for Puddleglum and Scrubb were at once picked up by gigantic gentlemen-in-waiting, and Jill by a gigantic maid of honour, and carried off to their rooms." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jill's room was about the size of a church, and would have been rather grim if it had not had a roaring fire on the hearth and a very thick crimson carpet on the floor. And here delightful things began to happen to her. She was handed over to the Queen's old Nurse, who was, from the giants'point of view, a little old woman almost bent double with age, and, from the human point of view, a giantess small enough to go about an ordinary room without knocking her head on the ceiling. She was very capable, though Jill did wish she wouldn't keep on clicking her tongue and saying things like'Oh la, la! Ups-adaisy\" and'There's a duck\" and'Now we'll be all right, my poppet\". She filled a giant foot-bath with hot water and helped Jill into it. If you can swim (as Jill could) a giant bath is a lovely thing. And giant towels, though a bit rough and coarse, are lovely too, because there are acres of them. In fact you don't need to dry at all, you just roll about on them in front of the fire and enjoy yourself. And when that was over, clean, fresh, warmed clothes were put on Jill: very splendid clothes and a little too big for her, but clearly made for humans not giantesses. \"I suppose if that woman in the green kirtle comes here, they must be used to guests of our size,\" thought Jill.\n\nShe soon saw that she was right about this, fora table and chair of the right height for an ordinary grown-up human were placed for her, and the knives and forks and spoons were the proper size too. It was delightful to sit down, feeling warm and clean at last. Her feet were still bare and it was lovely to tread on the giant carpet. She sank in it well over her ankles and it was just the thing for sore feet. The meal-which I suppose we must call dinner, though it was nearer teatime-was cock-a-leekie soup, and hot roast turkey, and a steamed pudding, and roast chestnuts, and as much fruit as you could eat." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The only annoying thing was that the Nurse kept coming in and out, and every time she came in, she brought a gigantic toy with her-a huge doll, bigger than Jill herself, a wooden horse on wheels, about the size of an elephant, a drum that looked like a young gasometer, and a woolly lamb. They were crude, badly made things, painted in very bright colours, and Jill hated the sight of them. She kept on telling the Nurse she didn't want them, but the Nurse said:\n\n\"Tut-tut-tut-tut. You'll want'em all right when you've had a bit of a rest, I know! Te-he-he! Beddy bye, now. A precious poppet!\"\n\nThe bed was not a giant bed but only a big four-poster, like what you might see in an old-fashioned hotel; and very small it looked in that enormous room. She was very glad to tumble into it.\n\n\"Is it still snowing, Nurse?\" she asked sleepily.\n\n\"No. Raining now, ducky!\" said the giantess. \"Rain'll wash away all the nasty snow. Precious poppet will be able to go out and play tomorrow!\" And she tucked Jill up and said goodnight.\n\nI know nothing so disagreeable as being kissed by a giantess. Jill thought the same, but was asleep in five minutes.\n\nThe rain fell steadily all the evening and all the night, dashing against the windows of the castle, and Jill never heard it but slept deeply, past suppertime and past midnight. And then came the deadest hour of the night and nothing stirred but mice in the house of the giants. At that hour there came to Jill a dream. It seemed to her that she awoke in the same room and saw the fire, sunk low and red, and in the firelight the great wooden horse. And the horse came of its own will, rolling on its wheels across the carpet, and stood at her head. And now it was no longer a horse, but a lion as big as the horse. And then it was not a toy lion, but areal lion, The Real Lion, just as she had seen him on the mountain beyond the world's end. And a smell of all sweet-smelling things there are filled the room. But there was some trouble in Jill's mind, though she could not think what it was, and the tears streamed down her face and wet the pillow. The Lion told her to repeat the signs, and she found that she had forgotten them all. At that, a great horror came over her. And Aslan took her up in his jaws (she could feel his lips and his breath but not his teeth) and carried her to the window and made her lookout. The moon shone bright; and written in great letters across the world or the sky (she did not know which) were the words UNDER ME. After that, the dream faded away, and when she woke, very late next morning, she did not remember that she had dreamed at all." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She was up and dressed and had finished breakfast in front of the fire when the Nurse opened the door and said: \"Here's pretty poppet's little friends come to play with her.\"\n\nIn came Scrubb and the Marsh-wiggle.\n\n\"Hullo! Good morning,\" said Jill. \"Isn't this fun? I've slept about fifteen hours, I believe. I do feel better, don't you?\"\n\n\"1 do,\" said Scrubb, \"but Puddleglum says he has a headache. Hullo!-your window has a window seat. If we got upon that, we could see out.\" And at once they all did so: and at the first glance Jill said, \"Oh, how perfectly dreadful!\"\n\nThe sun was shining and, except fora few drifts, the snow had been almost completely washed away by the rain. Down below them, spread out like a map, lay the flat hill-top which they had struggled over yesterday afternoon; seen from the castle, it could not be mistaken for anything but the ruins of a gigantic city. It had been flat, as Jill now saw, because it was still, on the whole, paved, though in places the pavement was broken. The criss-cross banks were what was left of the walls of huge buildings which might once have been giants' palaces and temples. One bit of wall, about five hundred feet high, was still standing; it was that which she had thought was a cliff. The things that had looked like factory chimneys were enormous pillars, broken off at unequal heights; their fragments lay at their bases like felled trees of monstrous stone. The ledges which they had climbed down on the north side of the hill-and also, no doubt the other ledges which they had climbed upon the south side-were the remaining steps of giant stairs. To crown all, in large, dark lettering across the centre of the pavement, ran the words UNDER ME." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The three travellers looked at each other in dismay, and, after a short whistle, Scrubb said what they were all thinking, \"The second and third signs muffed.\" And at that moment Jill's dream rushed back into her mind.\n\n\"It's my fault,\" she said in despairing tones. \"I-I'd given up repeating the signs every night. If I'd been thinking about them I could have seen it was the city, even in all that snow.\"\n\n\"I'm worse,\" said Puddleglum. \"I did see, or nearly. I thought it looked uncommonly like a ruined city.\"\n\n\"You're the only one who isn't to blame,\" said Scrubb. \"You did try to make us stop.\"\n\n\"Didn't try hard enough, though,\" said the Marshwiggle. \"And I'd no call to be trying. I ought to have done it. As if I couldn't have stopped you two with one hand each!\"\n\n\"The truth is,\" said Scrubb, \"we were so jolly keen on getting to this place that we weren't bothering about anything else. At least I know I was. Ever since we met that woman with the knight who didn't talk, we've been thinking of nothing else. We'd nearly forgotten about Prince Rilian.\"\n\n\"I shouldn't wonder,\" said Puddleglum, \"if that wasn't exactly what she intended.\"\n\n\"What I don't quite understand,\" said Jill, \"is how we didn't seethe lettering? Or could it have come there since last night. Could he-Aslan-have put it therein the night? I had such a queer dream.\" And she told them all about it.\n\n\"Why, you chump!\" said Scrubb. \"We did see it. We got into the lettering. Don't you see? We got into the letter E in ME. That was your sunk lane. We walked along the bottom stroke of the E, due north-turned to our right along the upright-came to another turn to the right-that's the middle stroke-and then went onto the top left-hand corner, or (if you like) the north-eastern corner of the letter, and came back. Like the bally idiots we are.\" He kicked the window seat savagely, and went on, \"So it's no good, Pole. I know what you were thinking because I was thinking the same. You were thinking how nice it would have been if Aslan hadn't put the instructions on the stones of the ruined city till after we'd passed it. And then it would have been his fault, not ours. So likely, isn't it? No. We must just own up. We've only four signs to go by, and we've muffed the first three.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You mean I have,\" said Jill. \"It's quite true. I've spoiled everything ever since you brought me here. All the same-I'm frightfully sorry and all that-all the same, what are the instructions? UNDER ME doesn't seem to make much sense.\"\n\n\"Yes it does, though,\" said Puddleglum. \"It means we've got to look for the Prince under that city.\"\n\n\"But how can we?\" asked Jill.\n\n\"That's the question,\" said Puddleglum, rubbing his big, frog-like hands together. \"How can we now? No doubt, if we'd had our minds on our job when we were at the Ruinous City, we'd have been shown how-found a little door, or a cave, or a tunnel, met someone to help us. Might have been (you never know) Aslan himself. We'd have got down under those paving-stones somehow or other. Aslan's instructions always work: there are no exceptions. But how to do it now-that's another matter.\"\n\n\"Well, we shall just have to go back, I suppose,\" said Jill.\n\n\"Easy, isn't it?\" said Puddleglum. \"We might try opening that door to begin with.\" And they all looked at the door and saw that none of them could reach the handle, and that almost certainly no one could turn it if they did.\n\n\"Do you think they won't let us out if we ask?\" said Jill. And nobody said, but everyone thought, \"Supposing they don't.\"\n\nIt was not a pleasant idea. Puddleglum was dead against any idea of telling the giants their real business and simply asking to be let out; and of course the children couldn't tell without his permission, because they had promised. And all three felt pretty sure that there would be no chance of escaping from the castle by night. Once they were in their rooms with the doors shut, they would be prisoners till morning. They might, of course, ask to have their doors left open, but that would rouse suspicions." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Our only chance,\" said Scrubb, \"is to try to sneak away by daylight." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Mightn't there bean hour in the afternoon when most of the giants are asleep?-and if we could steal down into the kitchen, mightn't there be aback door open?\"\n\n\"It's hardly what I calla Chance,\" said the Marshwiggle. \"But it's all the chance we're likely to get.\" As a matter of fact, Scrubb's plan was not quite so hopeless as you might think. If you want to get out of a house without being seen, the middle of the afternoon is in someways a better time to try it than the middle of the night. Doors and windows are more likely to be open; and if you are caught, you can always pretend you weren't meaning to go far and had no particular plans. (It is very hard to make either giants or grown-ups believe this if you're found climbing out of a bedroom window atone o'clock in the morning.)\n\n\"We must put them off their guard, though,\" said Scrubb. \"We must pretend we love being here and are longing for this Autumn Feast.\"\n\n\"That's tomorrow night,\" said Puddleglum. \"I heard one of them say so.\"\n\n\"I see,\" said Jill. \"We must pretend to be awfully excited about it, and keep on asking questions. They think we're absolute infants anyway, which will make it easier.\"\n\n\"Gay,\" said Puddleglum with a deep sigh. \"That's what we've got to be. Gay. As if we hadn't a care in the world. Frolicsome. You two youngsters haven't always got very high spirits, I've noticed. You must watch me, and do as I do. I'll be gay. Like this\"-and he assumed a ghastly grin. \"And frolicsome\"-here he cut a most mournful caper. \"You'll soon get into it, if you keep your eyes on me. They think I'm a funny fellow already, you see. I daresay you two thought I was a trifle tipsy last night, but I do assure you it was-well, most of it was-put on. I had an idea it would come in useful, somehow.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The children, when they talked over their adventures afterwards, could never feel sure whether this last statement was quite strictly true; but they were sure that Puddleglum thought it was true when he made it.\n\n\"All right. Gay's the word,\" said Scrubb. \"Now, if we could only get someone to open this door. While we're fooling about and being gay, we've got to find out all we can about this castle.\"\n\nLuckily, at that very moment the door opened, and the giant Nurse bustled in saying, \"Now, my poppets. Like to come and seethe King and all the court setting out on the hunting? Such a pretty sight!\"\n\nThey lost no time in rushing out past her and climbing down the first staircase they came to. The noise of hounds and horns and giant voices guided them, so that in a few minutes they reached the courtyard. The giants were all on foot, for there are no giant horses in that part of the world, and the giants' hunting is done on foot; like beagling in England. The hounds were also of normal size. When Jill saw that there were no horses she was at first dreadfully disappointed, for she felt sure that the great fat Queen would never go after hounds on foot; and it would never do to have her about the house all day. But then she saw the Queen in a kind of litter supported on the shoulders of six young giants. The silly old creature was all got up in green and had a horn at her side.\n\nTwenty or thirty giants, including the King, were assembled, ready for the sport, all talking and laughing fit to deafen you: and down below, nearer Jill's level, there were wagging tails, and barking, and loose, slobbery mouths and noses of dogs thrust into your hand. Puddleglum was just beginning to strike what he thought a gay and gamesome attitude (which might have spoiled everything if it had been noticed) when Jill put on her most attractively childish smile, rushed across to the Queen's litter and shouted up to the Queen." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh, please! You're not going away, are you? You will comeback?\"\n\n\"Yes, my dear,\" said the Queen. \"I'll be back tonight.\"\n\n\"Oh, good. How lovely!\" said Jill. \"And we may come to the feast tomorrow night, mayn't we? We're so longing for tomorrow night! And we do love being here. And while you're out, we may run over the whole castle and see everything, mayn't we? Do say yes.\"\n\nThe Queen did say yes, but the laughter of all the courtiers nearly drowned her voice." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Helping with the plot, keep the story going.\nTags: fantasy, character study, novella\nAuthor: Patrick Rothfuss\nTitle: The Slow Regard of Silent Things\nChapter: 5" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "WHEN AURI WOKE, she knew that she had seven days.\n\nYes. She was quite sure of it. He would come fora visit on the seventh day.\n\nAlong time. Long for waiting. But not so long for everything that needed to be done. Not if she were careful. Not if she wanted to be ready.\n\nOpening her eyes, Auri saw a whisper of dim light. A rare thing, as she was tucked tidily away in Mantle, her privatest of places. It was a white day, then. A deep day. A finding day. She smiled, excitement fizzing in her chest.\n\nThere was just enough light to seethe pale shape of her arm as her fingers found the dropper bottle on her bedshelf. She unscrewed it and let a single drip fall into Foxen's dish. After a moment he slowly brightened into a faint gloaming blue.\n\nMoving carefully, Auri pushed back her blanket so it wouldn't touch the floor. She slipped out of bed, the stone floor warm beneath her feet. Her basin rested on the table near her bed, next to a sliver of her sweetest soap. None of it had changed in the night. That was good.\n\nAuri squeezed another drop directly onto Foxen. She hesitated, then grinned and let a third drop fall. No half measures on a finding day. She gathered up her blanket then, folding and folding it up, carefully tucking it under her chin to keep it from brushing against the floor.\n\nFoxen's light continued to swell. First the merest flickering: a fleck, a distant star. Then more of him began to iridesce, a firefly's worth. Still more his brightness grew till he was all-over tremulant with shine. Then he sat proudly in his dish, looking like a blue-green ember slightly larger than a coin." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She smiled at him while he roused himself the rest of the way and he filled all of Mantle with his truest, brightest blue-white light.\n\nThen Auri looked around. She saw her perfect bed. Just her size. Just so. She checked her sitting chair. Her cedar box. Her tiny silver cup.\n\nThe fireplace was empty. And above that was the mantelpiece: her yellow leaf, her box of stone, her grey glass jar with sweet dried lavender inside. Nothing was nothing else. Nothing was anything it shouldn't be.\n\nThere were three ways out of Mantle. There was a hallway, and a doorway, and a door. The last of these was not for her.\n\nAuri took the doorway into Port. Foxen was still resting in his dish, so his light was dimmer here, but it was still bright enough to see. Port had not been very busy of late, but even so, Auri checked on everything in turn. In the wine rack rested half a broken plate of porcelain, no thicker than the petal of a flower. Below that was a leather octavo book, a pair of corks, a tiny ball of twine. Off to one side, his fine white teacup waited for him with a patience Auri envied.\n\nOn the wall shelf sat a blob of yellow resin in a dish. A black rock. A grey stone. A smooth, flat piece of wood. Apart from all the rest, a tiny bottle stood, its wire bale open like a hungry bird.\n\nOn the central table a handful of holly berries rested on a clean white cloth. Auri eyed them fora moment, then took them to the bookshelf, a perch they were more suited to. She looked around the room and nodded to herself. All good." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Back in Mantle, Auri washed her face and hands and feet. She slipped out of her nightshirt and folded it into her cedar box. She stretched happily, lifting up her arms and rolling high onto her toes.\n\nThen she ducked into her favorite dress, the one he'd given her. It was sweet against her skin. Her name was burning like afire inside her. Today was going to be a busy day.\n\nAuri gathered up Foxen, carrying him cupped in the palm of her hand. She made her way through Port, slipping through a jagged crack in the wall. It was not a wide crack, but Auri was so slight she barely needed turn her shoulders to keep from brushing up against the broken stones. It was nothing like a tight fit.\n\nVan was a tall room with straight, whitewalls of fitted stone. It was an echo-empty place save for her standing mirror. But today there was one other thing, the gentlest breath of sunlight. It snuck in through the peak of an arched doorway filled with rubble: broken timber, blocks of fallen stone. But there, at the very top, a smudge of light.\n\nAuri stood in front of the mirror and took the bristle brush from where it hung on the mirror's wooden frame. She brushed the sleep snarl from her hair until it hung about her like a cloud.\n\nShe closed her handover Foxen, and without his blue-green shine the room went dark as dark. Then her eyes stretched wide and she could see nothing but the soft, faint smudge of warm light spilling past the rubble high behind her. Pale golden light caught in her pale golden hair. Auri grinned at herself in the mirror. She looked like the sun.\n\nLifting her hand, she uncovered Foxen and skipped quickly off into the sprawling maze of Rubric. It was barely a minute's work to find a copper pipe with the right kind of cloth wrapping. But finding the perfect place, well, that was the trick, wasn't it? She followed the pipe through the round red-brick tunnels for nearly half a mile, careful not to let it slip away from her among the countless other twining pipes." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then, with no hint of warning, the pipe kinked hard and dove straight into the curving wall, abandoning her. Rude thing. There were countless other pipes of course, but the tiny tin ones had no wrap at all. The icy ones of burnished steel were far too new. The iron pipes were so eager as to be almost embarrassing, but their wrappings were all cotton, and that was more trouble than she cared to bother with today.\n\nSo Auri followed a fat ceramic pipe as it bumbled along. Eventually it burrowed deep into the ground, but where it bent, its linen wrap hung loose and ragged as an urchin's shirt. Auri smiled and unwound the strip of cloth with gentle fingers, taking great care not to tear it.\n\nEventually it came away. A perfect thing. A single gauzy piece of greying linen, long as Auri's arm. It was tired but willing, and after folding it upon itself she turned and pelted madly off through echoing Umbrel, then down and down into The Twelve.\n\nThe Twelve was one of the rare changing places of the Underthing. It was wise enough to know itself, and brave enough to be itself, and wild enough to change itself while somehow staying altogether true. It was nearly unique in this regard, and while it was not always safe or kind, Auri could not help but feel a fondness for it.\n\nToday the high arch of space was just as she'd expected, bright and lively. Sunlight speared down through the open gratings far above, striking down into the deep, narrow valley of the changing place. The light filtered past pipes, support beams, and the strong, straight line of an ancient wooden walkway. The distant noise of the street drifted down to the far below bottom of things." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Auri heard the sound of hooves on cobblestones, sharp and round as a cracking knuckle. She heard the distant thunder of a passing wagon and the dim mingle of voices. Threading through it all was the high, angry cry of a babe who clearly wanted tit and wasn't getting any.\n\nAt the bottom of The Yellow Twelve there was along deep pool with water smooth as glass. The sunlight from above was bright enough that Auri could see all the way down to the second snarl of pipes beneath the surface.\n\nShe already had straw here, and three bottles waited on a narrow ledge of stone along one wall. But looking at them, Auri frowned. There was a green one, a brown one, and a clear one. There was a wide wire baling top, a grey twisting lid, and a cork fat as a fist. They were all different shapes and sizes, but none of them were quite right.\n\nExasperated, Auri threw her hands into the air.\n\nSo she ran back to Mantle, her bare feet slapping on the stone. Once there, she eyed the grey glass bottle with the lavender inside. She picked it up, looked it over carefully, then set it back down in its proper place before she scampered out again.\n\nAuri hurried through Port, heading out byway of the slanting doorway this time, rather than the crack in the wall. She twisted up through Withy, Foxen throwing wild shadows on the walls. As she ran, her hair streamed out behind her like a banner.\n\nShe took the spiraling stairs through Darkhouse, down and around, down and around. When she finally heard moving water and the tink of glass she knew she'd crossed the threshold into Clinks. Soon Foxen's light reflected off the roiling pool of black water that swallowed the bottom of the spiraling stairs." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There were two bottles perched in a shallow niche there. One blue and narrow. One green and squat. Auri tilted her head and closed one eye, then reached out to touch the green one with two fingers. She grinned, snatched it up, and ran backup the stairs.\n\nHeading back, she went through Vaults fora change of air. Running down the hall, she sprang over the first deep fissure in the broken floor as lithely as a dancer. The second crack she leapt as lightly as a bird. The third she jumped as wildly as a pretty girl who looked like the sun.\n\nShe came into The Yellow Twelve all puffed and panting. As she caught her breath, she tucked Foxen in the green bottle, padded him carefully with straw, and locked down the hasp against the rubber gasket, sealing the lid down tight. She held it up to her face, then grinned and kissed the bottle before setting it carefully by the edge of the pool.\n\nAuri shucked off her favorite dress and hung it on a bright brass pipe. She grinned and shivered a little, nervous fish swimming in her stomach. Then, standing in her altogether, she gathered up her floating hair with both her hands. She brushed it back and bound it, winding and tying it behind her with the strip of old grey linen cloth. When she was done it made along tail that hung down to the small of her back.\n\nArms held close against her chest, Auri took two tiny steps to stand beside the pool. She dipped a toe into the water, then her whole foot. She grinned at the feel of it, chill and sweet as peppermint. Then she lowered herself down, both legs dangling in the water. Auri balanced fora moment, holding her nekkid self up with both hands, away from the cold stone lip at the edge of the pool." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But there was no avoiding it. So Auri puckered up and settled herself the rest of the way down. There was nothing peppermint about the cold stone edge. It was a dull, blunt bite against her tender altogether hindmost self.\n\nShe turned herself around then, and began to lower herself into the water. She went slowly, tickling around with her feet until she found the little jut of stone. She curled her toes around it, holding herself thigh-deep in the pool. Then she drew a few deep breaths, screwed her eyes shut, and bared her teeth before letting go with her toes and ducking her nethers underneath the surface. She squeaked a little, and the chill made her whole self go gooseprickle.\n\nThe worst over, she closed her eyes and dunked her head beneath the water too. Gasping and blinking, she rubbed the water out of her eyes. She had her big all-over shiver then, one arm folded across her breasts. But by the time it was done her grimace had turned to grin.\n\nWithout her halo of hair, Auri felt small. Not the smallness that she strove for everyday. Not the smallness of a tree among trees. Of a shadow underground. And not just small of body either. She knew there was not much of her. When she thought to look more closely at her standing mirror, the girl she saw was tiny as an urchin begging on the street. The girl she saw was thin as thin. Her cheekbones high and delicate. Her collarbones pressed tight against her skin.\n\nBut no. With her hair pulled back and wetted down besides. She felt... less. She felt tamped down. Dim. More faint. Feint. Feigned. Fain. It would have been pure unpleasant without the perfect strip of linen. If not for that, she wouldn't merely feel like a wick rolled down, she would be downright guttery. It was worth it, doing things the proper way." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Finally the last of her trembling stopped. The fish were still turning in her stomach, but her grin was eager. The golden daylight from above struck down into the pool, straight and bright and steady as a spear.\n\nAuri drew a deep breath, then pushed it out, wriggling her toes. She took another deep breath and let it out more slowly.\n\nThen a third breath. Auri gripped the neck of Foxen's bottle in one hand, let goof the stone edge of the pool, and dove beneath the water.\n\nThe angle of the light was perfect, and Auri saw the first pipetangle clear as anything. Minnow-quick, she turned and glided smoothly through, not letting any of them touch her.\n\nBelow that was the second snarl. She pushed an old iron pipe with her foot to keep herself moving downward, then tugged a valve with her freehand as she went past, changing speed and sliding through the narrow space between two wrist-thick copper pipes.\n\nThe spearlight faded as she sank, leaving only Foxen's blue-green glow. But his light was muted here, filtered through straw and water and the thick green glass. Auri made her mouth a perfect O and puffed out two quick bursts of bubbles. The pressure grew as she went deeper, shapes looming dimly by her in the dark. An old walkway, a tilting slab of rock, an ancient, algae-covered wooden beam.\n\nHer outstretched fingers found the bottom sooner than her eyes, and Auri swept her hand across the half-seen surface of the smooth stone floor. Back and forth. Back and forth. Quick but wary. Sometimes there were sharp things here.\n\nThen her fingers closed on something long and smooth. A stick? She tucked it underneath her arm and let herself begin to float backup toward the distant light. Her freehand found familiar pipes, pulling and steering, twisting through the maze of half-seen shapes. Her lungs began to ache a bit, and she released a stream of bubbles as she rose." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Her face broke the surface near the edge, and in the golden light she saw what she had found: a clean white bone." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Long, but not a leg. An arm. The prima axial. She ran her fingers down the length of it and felt a tiny seam that ran all round it like a ring, showing it had broken and long-healed. It was full of pleasant shadows.\n\nSmiling, Auri set it aside. Then she drew three slow, deep breaths, gripped Foxen tight, and dove into the pool again.\n\nThis time she got her foot wedged tight between two pipes around the second tangle. Bad luck. She scowled and tugged and after half a moment managed to pull free. She blew half her lungful out and kicked hard, dropping like a stone down into the black below.\n\nDespite the bad start, this was an easy catch. Her fingers found a tangle of something-or-other before they even touched the bottom. She had no guess what it might be. Something metal, something slick and something hard all jumbled up together. She gathered it close to her chest and started up again.\n\nThis time she couldn't tuck her find beneath her arm for fear she'd lose some piece of it. So Auri nestled Foxen's bottle in the crook of her arm and pulled herself along with her left hand. It felt good, balanced, and she broke the surface not even needing to blow the rest of her bubbles.\n\nShe spread the tangle out by the edge of the pool: an old belt with a silver buckle so tarnished it was black as coal. A leafy branch with a bewildered snail. And, lastly but not least, looped on apiece of rotten string all tangled with the branch, was a slender key as long as her first finger.\n\nAuri kissed the snail and apologized before setting the branch back in the water where it belonged. The leather of the belt was turned against itself, but at the slightest tug the buckle came away. Both of them were better off that way." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Clinging to the stone edge of the pool, Auri shivered now in tiny waves. They moved across her shoulders and her chest. Her lips had gone from pink to pale pink tinged with blue.\n\nShe picked up Foxen's bottle and checked the bale to make sure it was tight. She looked down into the water, the fish in her stomach swimming excitedly. Third time was the lucky one.\n\nAuri pulled a breath and dove again, her body twisting smoothly, her right hand finding all the friendly grips. Down to the dark. The stone. The timber. Then nothing but dim Foxen's light, coloring her outstretched hand a pale blue-green. It looked the way a water nixie's must.\n\nHer knuckles brushed the bottom and she spun a bit to orient herself. She kicked and swept her hand about, skimming smoothly out along the black stone bottom of the pool. Then she saw a glint of light and her fingers bumped something solid and cold, all hard lines and smooth. It was full of love and answers, so full she felt them spilling out at just her briefest touch.\n\nFor the space often hard heartbeats Auri thought it must be fastened to the stone. Then it slid and she realized the truth. It was a weighty thing. After along, slippery moment her tiny fingers found away to pry it up. It was solid metal, thick as a book. It was oddly shaped and heavy as a bar of raw iridium.\n\nAuri brought it to her chest and felt its edges dig into her skin. Then she bent her knees and pushed off hard against the bottom with both feet, looking up toward the distant shimmer of the surface.\n\nShe kicked and kicked, but barely seemed to move. The metal thing dragged, pulling her down. Her foot bumped hard against a thick iron pipe, and Auri took the chance to brace herself and give another push. She felt a rush of motion up that slowed as soon as her foot left the iron behind." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her lungs were fighting with her now. Half-full, the dumb things wanted air. She puffed out a mouthful of bubbles, trying to trick them, knowing every bubble lost would weigh her down, knowing she wasn't even near the bottom tangle yet.\n\nAuri tried to shift the metal thing to the crook of her arm so she could pull herself along. But when she tried, the smoothness of it slipped a little in her fingers. In the sudden panic afterward, she clutched, fumbled, and Foxen's bottle knocked against some unseen shape. He slid and jostled free of Auri's grip.\n\nAuri snatched with her freehand, but her knuckles only batted Foxen farther off away. And fora moment, Auri froze. To let the metal drop would be unthinkable. But Foxen. He had been with her forever....\n\nShe watched as Foxen's bottle was caught by an eddy and swirled well out of reach behind a trio of slanting copper pipes. Her lungs were angry now. She clenched her teeth and grabbed a nearby lip of stone with her now-freehand, pulling herself up.\n\nHer lungs were heaving hard inside her now, so she slowly loosed her bubbles though she hadn't even glimpsed the lowest tangle yet. It was dark without Foxen, but at least she was moving, pulling herself up in sudden awkward jerks, using whatever strange handholds she could find. She kicked, but there was little to be gained from that, burdened as she was with the heavy lump of sharp, hard love she held so tightly to her chest. Was it the answers that it held that gave it so much weight?\n\nFinally she dragged herself into the lower nest of pipes, but her lungs were empty now, and her body hung like lead. Normally she twisted through the tangle like a fish, her body never brushing the pipes. But she was heavy and empty. One-handed she groped and bucked her way through them. She banged her knee and frantically slid her back along something sharp with rust. She stretched out an arm, but heavy as she was, her fingers didn't even brush her usual handhold." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She kicked, gained another inch or two, then, despite her careful binding, her hair snagged on something. It jerked her to a sudden stop, snapping her head back and spinning her body sideways in the water.\n\nAlmost immediately she felt herself begin to sink. She flailed out wildly. Her shin struck a pipe, making her whole self tingle with pain, but she quickly sought it outwith her other foot, braced, and shoved off hard. She shot up like a cork, fast enough so that her hair tore free from whatever rude thing had caught it. The sharp tug snapped her head back hard, forcing her mouth open.\n\nShe began to drown then. Mouth full of water, she choked and gagged. But even as the water filled her nose and throat, Auri feared nothing so much as the thought her hand might slip, that she would lose her grip and let the heavy jag of metal slide away into the dark. Losing Foxen was bad. It would leave her blind and lonely in the dark. Being trapped beneath the pipes and choking out her life was awful too. But neither of those things were wrong. Letting the metal slide into the dark simply could not be done. It was unthinkable. It was so unkilter that it terrified her.\n\nHer hair was unbound now, and it swirled around her in the water like a cloud of smoke. Her hand grabbed a curve of pipe, comforting, familiar. She pulled herself up, then grabbed again and found another grip. She clenched her teeth, choked, pulled, and grabbed.\n\nShe broke the surface, gasping and spluttering, then slid under the water again.\n\nA second later she claw-clambered her way up again. This time her freehand caught the stone edge of the pool." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Auri heaved the thing out of the water, and it struck the stone floor with the sound of a bell. It was a bright brass gear, big as a platter. Thicker than her thumb with some to spare. It had a hole in the middle, nine teeth, and a jagged gap where a tenth had long ago been torn away.\n\nIt was full of true answers and love and hearthlight. It was beautiful.\n\nAuri smiled and heaved up half a stomachful of water on the stones. Then heaved again, turning her head so that it didn't splash against the bright brass gear. She coughed then, took a mouthful of water, and spat it back into the pool. The brass gear lay heavy as a heart on the cold stones of The Yellow Twelve. The light from up above made the surface of it shimmerant and gold. It looked like apiece of sun she'd brought up from the deep.\n\nAuri coughed again and shivered. Then she reached out and touched it with one finger. She smiled to look at it. Her lips were blue. She trembled. Her heart was full of joy.\n\nAfter she pulled herself out of the water, Auri looked around the pool at the bottom of The Twelve. Though she knew better, she hoped to see Foxen bobbing idly on the surface.\n\nNothing.\n\nHer face was solemn then. She thought of going back. But no. Three times. That was the way of things. But the thought of leaving Foxen in the dark was enough to put a fine, thin crack straight through her heart. To lose him after all this time....\n\nThen Auri caught a glimpse of something deep below the surface. A glint. Aglow. She grinned. Foxen looked for all the world like a great bumbrous firefly as he bobbled and bumped his slow way slowly up through all the tangled pipes." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She waited five long minutes, watching Foxen's bottle bob and drift until it finally popped up to the surface like a duck. Then she caught it up and kissed it. She held it to her chest. Oh yes. It was well worth it, doing things the proper way.\n\nFirst things first. Auri freed Foxen from the bottle and set it next to the others on the wall. Then she headed down to Clinks and rinsed herself in the roiling water there. Then she washed herself, using up the slender remnant of a cake of soap that smelled of cinnas fruit and summer.\n\nAfter soaping and scrubbing and cleaning her hair, Auri dove into the endless black water of Clinks to rinse herself one final time. Under the surface, something brushed against her. Something slick and heavy pressed its moving weight against her leg. It did not bother her. Whatever it was, it was in its proper place and so was she. Things were just as they should be.\n\nDripping clean and wringing out her hair, Auri headed off through Tenners. Not the quickest way, but it would be unseemly to head through Dunnings in nothing but her pinkness. But even taking the longer way, it wasn't long before she turned the corner into Bakers, wet feet slapping on the stone. She rested Foxen on apiece of jutting brick nearby, as he wasn't fond of too much heat.\n\nThe thick steel pipes along the tunnel's wall were too hot to stand near today, and the walls and floor had been basking until they too were all crickly with heat. Auri spun in a slow circle to keep any part of her tender altogether from getting roasted by the silent red roar pouring off the pipes. It was only moments before the place had dried her skin, set her fine hair floating, and cooked the shivers from her icy bones." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After that she fetched her favorite dress from The Yellow Twelve. She slid it over her head, then carried all her treasures back to Port where she arranged them on the central table.\n\nThe leather belt was etched in odd curling patterns. The great brass gear was bright straight through. The key was black as black. The buckle though, it was black with bright beneath. It was a hidden thing.\n\nMight the buckle be for him? That would be a good beginning to the day. A nice thing to have settled early on, his gift all ready with his visit days away.\n\nAuri eyed the buckle sharply. Was it a proper gift for him? He was a tangled sort. And he was much hidden, too. Nodding, she reached out to touch the cool dark metal.\n\nBut no. It didn't suit him. She should have known. He was not a one for fastening. For holding closed. Neither was he dark. Oh no. He was emberant. Incarnadine. He was bright with better bright beneath, like copper-gilded gold.\n\nThe gear would need consideration. It almost felt like it could be for him-but that could wait. The key needed urgent tending. It was for certain the most restless of the lot. This wasn't even a slim sliver of surprise. Keys were hardly known for their complacency, and this one was near howling fora lock. Auri picked it up and turned it in her hands. A door key. It wasn't shy about the fact at all.\n\nBlack key. White day. She cocked her head. The shape of things was right. It was a finding day, and there was no doubt the poor thing badly wanted tending. She nodded to herself and slipped the key into the pocket of her dress." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Even so, before she left, Auri helped everything to find its proper place. The belt stayed on the central table, obviously. The buckle moved to rest beside the dish of resin. The bone nestled almost indecently close to the holly berry.\n\nThe gear was troublesome in this regard. She set it on the bookshelf, then moved it to the table in the corner. It leaned against the wall, the gap from its lost tooth pointing up into the air. Auri frowned. It wasn't quite the proper place.\n\nAuri brought out the key and held it in front of the gear. Black and brass. Both for turning. They had twelve teeth between them....\n\nShe shook her head and sighed. She put the key back into her pocket and left the great brass gear on the bookshelf. It wasn't the proper place for it, but it was the best that she could do for now.\n\nBorough was closest, so Auri hurried there, ducking her head through the low stone doorways until she came to the first of its doors. Standing there, Auri cupped Foxen in her palm and huffed a gentle breath onto him, fanning his light. The wooden door was huge and grey with age, its hinges hardly more than flaking rust.\n\nShe drew the key out of her pocket and held it out in front of her, between herself and the great grey door. She looked back and forth between them, then turned and padded away. Three left turns and through a broken window to the second door, also old and grey, but larger than the first. Here she barely needed to glance at them before she knew the truth. This wasn't right. These weren't the proper doors. Where then? Tenners? Black Door?\n\nShe shivered. Not Black Door. Not on a white day. Wains instead. Then Tenners. Even Throughbottom. This was not a key for Black Door. No." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Auri hurried through Rubric, turning left twice and right twice for balance, making sure to never follow any of the pipes too far lest she offend. Next came Greely with its twisting ways and its sulfurant smell. She got a little lost there among the crumbling walls, but eventually made her right way to Crumbledon, a narrow dirt tunnel so steep it was little more than a hole. Auri scampered down on along ladder made of lashed-together sticks.\n\nThe bottom of the ladder dropped into a tiny, tidy room of finished stone. It was no bigger than a closet, empty except for an old oak door all bound in brass. Auri brushed off her hands, swung the door open, and stepped lightly into Wains.\n\nThe hallway was wide enough to drive a wagon through. High-ceilinged and long enough that Foxen's light could barely reach the tangle of debris that blocked the far end. Above her, blue-white light scattered off a crystal chandelier.\n\nDark wood paneling hugged the lower portion of the walls, but above that was ornate plasterwork. There were broad frescoes decorating the ceiling. Women in gauze lounged about, whispering and rubbing oil on each other. Men frolicked about in the water, flapping around ridiculously in their absolute altogether.\n\nAuri took a moment to look at the pictures as she always did, grinning wickedly. She shifted her weight from side to side, the polished marble floor chill beneath her tiny feet.\n\nBoth ends of Wains were blocked by fallen rock and earth, but in the middle it was clean as a crucible. Everything dry and tight as you please. No damp. No mold. No drafts to bring in dust. Altogether men or no, it was a seemly place, so Auri was careful to comport herself with full decorum." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There were twelve oak doors lining the hall. All fine and tight and bound in brass. Over her long years in the Underthing, Auri had opened three of them.\n\nShe walked down the hall, Foxen glowing brightly in her upheld hand. After a dozen steps, a glimmer on the marble floor caught her eye. Skipping close, she saw a crystal had fallen from the chandelier to lay unbroken on the floor. It was a lucky thing, and brave. She picked it up and put it in the pocket that didn't have the key inside. They would only fuss if they were put together.\n\nIt wasn't the third door, or the seventh. Auri was already planning her route down to Throughbottom when she spied the ninth door. It was waiting. Eager. The latch turned and the door eased smoothly open on silent hinges.\n\nAuri stepped inside, pulled the key from her pocket, and kissed it before she lay it carefully on an empty table just inside the door. The tiny tapas it touched the wood warmed her heart. She smiled to see it sitting there, all snug and in its proper place.\n\nIt was a sitting room. Very fine. Auri sat Foxen in a wall sconce and went to have a careful look around. A tall velvet chair. A low wooden table. A plush couch on a plush carpet. In the corner was a tiny cart filled with glasses and bottles. They were very dignified.\n\nThere was something wrong with the room. Nothing looming. Nothing like in Sit Twice or Faceling. No. This was a good place. A nearly perfect place. Everything was almost. If this hadn't been a white day with everything done properly, she might not have been able to tell something was amiss. Still, it was, and she did." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Auri stepped around the room, hands clasped primly behind her back. She eyed the cart, more than a dozen bottles, all colors. Some stoppered and full, some holding little more than dust. There was a burnished silver gear watch on one of the tables, near the couch. There was a ring too, and a scattering of coins. Auri eyed them curiously, touching nothing.\n\nShe moved daintily. One step. Another. The dark plush of the carpet was sweet beneath her feet, like moss, and when she bent down to run her fingers over the hush of it, she glimpsed a tiny whiteness underneath the couch. She reached deep into the shadows with a small white hand, having to stretch a bit before her fingers caught it. Smooth and cool.\n\nIt was a tiny figurine carved from apiece of pale, retiring stone. A small soldier with clever lines to show his hauberk and his shield. But his truest treasure was the sweetness of his face, kind enough for kissing.\n\nIt didn't belong here, but it wasn't wrong. Or rather, it wasn't what was wrong with the room. The poor thing was simply lost. Auri smiled and put the doll in her pocket with the crystal.\n\nIt was then she felt a tiny bump beneath one foot. She pulled up the edge of the carpet, rolled it back, and found a small bone button underneath. Auri eyed it fora long moment before giving it an understanding smile. That wasn't it either. The button was just as it should be. Moving carefully, she lay the carpet back exactly as she'd found it, patting it into place with her hands.\n\nShe looked around the room again. It was a good place, and almost entirely as it ought to be. There wasn't really anything for her to do here. It was startling really, as the place had obviously been alone forages without anyone tending to it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Even so, there was something wrong. Some lack. Some tiny thing, like a single cricket legging madly in the night.\n\nA second door sat on the other side of the room, eager to be opened. She worked the latch, walked through a hallway, only to come to the foot of a set of stairs. There she looked around with some surprise. She'd thought that she was still in Wains. But clearly not. This was a different place entirely.\n\nAuri's heartbeat faster then. It had been ages since she'd come on somewhere wholly new. A place that dared to be entirely itself.\n\nStill, carefully. In Foxen's steady light Auri looked closely at the walls and ceiling. A few cracks, but nothing thicker than a thumb. A few small stones had fallen, and there was dirt and mortar on the steps as well. The walls were bare and slightly condescending. No. She had obviously left Wains behind.\n\nShe ran a handover the stones of the steps. The first few were solid, but the fourth was loose. As were the sixth and seventh. And the tenth.\n\nThere was a landing halfway up where the stairway turned back upon itself. There was a door, but it was terribly bashful, so Auri politely pretended not to see it. She made her careful way up the second flight of steps and found half of them were also loose or prone to tipping.\n\nThen she went back down the stairs, making sure she'd found all the shifting stones. She hadn't. It was terribly exciting. The place was tricky as a drunken tinker and a little sly. It had a temper too. It would be hard to find a place less like a garden path.\n\nSome places had names. Some places changed, or they were shy about their names. Some places had no names at all, and that was always sad. It was one thing to be private. But to have no name at all? How horrible. How lonely." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Auri made her way up the stairs a second time, testing each one with her feet, avoiding the spots she knew were bad." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As she climbed, she couldn't tell what sort of place this was. Shy or secret? Lost or lonely? A puzzling place. It made her grin all the wider.\n\nAt the top of the stairs the ceiling had collapsed, but there was a gap made by a broken wall. Auri stepped through and found herself grinning with the thrill of it. Another new place. Two in one day. Her bare feet shifted back and forth on the gritty stone floor, almost dancing with excitement.\n\nThis place was not so coy as the stairway. Its name was Tumbrel. It was scattered and half-fallen and half-full. There was so much to see.\n\nHalf the ceiling had fallen in and everything was covered in dust. But for all its fallen stone, it was dry and tight. No damp, just dust and stiff air. More than half the room was a solid mass of fallen earth and stone and timber. The remnants of a four-post bed lay crushed beneath the wreckage. In the unfallen portion of the room, there was a triune mirror vanity and a dark wooden wardrobe taller than a tall woman standing on her toes.\n\nAuri peered shyly through the wardrobe's half-open doors. She glimpsed a dozen dresses there, all velvet and embroidery. Shoes. A robe of silk. Some gauzy bits of the sort the women wore in the frescoes down in Wains.\n\nThe vanity was a rakish thing: garrulous and unashamed. The top was scattered with pots of powders, small brushes, sticks of eyepaint. Bracelets and rings. Combs of horn and ivory and wood. There were pins and pens and a dozen bottles, some substantial, some delicate as petals.\n\nIt was in startling disarray. Everything resting atop the vanity was somehow askew: powders were spilled, bottles toppled, the dish of pins all higgledy-piggledy." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dishevel or no, Auri couldn't help but take a liking to the thing, gruff and bawdy as it was. She sat primly on the edge of the straight-backed chair. She ran her fingers through her floating hair and smiled to see herself reflected in a triptych.\n\nThere was a door too, opposite the broken wall. It was half-buried by a broken beam and blocks of shattered stone. But hidden as it was, it wasn't shy.\n\nAuri went to work then, setting things to rights as best she could.\n\nShe shifted the wooden beam that blocked the door. Lifting and straining, a few inches at a time until she could lever at it with another piece of fallen timber. Then she cleared away the stones, pushing the ones she could not carry. Rolling the ones she could not push.\n\nShe found the wreckage of a small table underneath the stones, and amid the splintered wood she found a length of fine white tatted lace. She folded this up carefully and put it in her pocket with the crystal and the small stone soldier.\n\nOnce the way was clear, the door pulled open easily, its rusted hinges moaning. Inside was a small closet. There was an empty porcelain chamberpot. There was a wooden bucket, a brush of the sort you would use to scrub the deck of a ship, and a tight birch broom. On the back of the door hung two empty linen sacks. The smaller of these was anxious to be about its business, so Auri smiled and tucked it in a pocket by itself.\n\nThe broom was eager after being trapped so long, so Auri brought it out and set to sweeping, brushing ancient dust and earth into a tidy pile. After that it was still restless, so Auri went to sweep the unnamed stair as well." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She brought Foxen with, of course. She would hardly trust a place like that to behave in the dark. But since a proper birching of the place required two hands, Auri tied Foxen to along lock of her hanging hair. Foxen's dignity was somewhat bruised by this, and Auri kissed him insincere apology for the affront. But they both knew he took a certain secret joy from swingling wildly all about, making the shadows spin and skirl.\n\nSo fora while he hung and swung. Auri took care not to notice any undue exuberance on his part while she gave the unnamed stairs a brisk once-over. Up and down then up again, the tight birch broom flicked and tickled the stone steps clear of fallen rocks and grit and dust. They were flattered by the attention while remaining entirely coy.\n\nAfter returning the broom to the closet, Auri brought out the chamberpot and set it near the wardrobe. She spun it slightly so it faced the proper way.\n\nCharming as it was, the vanity was vexing, too. It seemed all askew, but nothing called out for tidying. The only exception was the hairbrush, which she moved closer to a cunning ruby ring.\n\nAuri crossed her arms and stared at the vanity fora long minute. Then she went down on hands and knees and looked at its underside. She opened the drawers and moved the handkerchiefs from the left-hand drawer into the right, then frowned and moved them back again.\n\nFinally she pushed the entire thing about two handspan to the left and slightly closer to the wall, careful not to let anything tumble to the floor. She slid the vanity's high-backed chair the same amount, so it still faced the mirrors. Then she picked up the chair and examined the bottoms of its feet before putting it back in place with a tiny shrug." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There was a loose stone in the floor next to the wardrobe. Auri prized it up with her fingers, adjusted the small leather sack and piece of wool padding underneath, then slid the stone back into place, tamping it down firmly with the handle of the broom. She tested it with one foot and smiled when it no longer shifted under her weight.\n\nLastly, she opened the wardrobe. She moved the dress of burgundy velvet away from the gown of pale blue silk. She replaced the lid of a tall hatbox that had come ajar. She opened the drawer at the bottom of the wardrobe.\n\nHer breath caught in her chest then. Folded tidily away at the bottom of the drawer were several perfect sheets, pale and smooth. Auri reached down to touch one and was amazed at the tightness of the weave. So fine her fingers couldn't feel the thread. It was cool and sweet to the touch, like a lover come to kiss her, fresh in from the cold.\n\nAuri brushed her hand across the surface. How lovely might it be to sleep on such a sheet? To lay on it and feel the sweetness of it all along her naked skin?\n\nShe shivered, and her fingers curled around the folded edges of the sheet. Hardly realizing what she did, she drew it from its proper place and brought it to her chest. She brushed her lips against its smoothness. There were other sheets beneath it. A treasure trove. Surely enough fora place like Tumbrel. Besides, she'd set so many other things to rights. Surely...\n\nShe looked down at the sheet fora long moment. And while her eyes were all softness and want, her mouth grew firm and furious. No. That was not the way of things. She knew better. She knew perfectly well where this sheet belonged." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Auri closed her eyes and put the sheet back in the drawer, shame burning in her chest. She was a greedy thing sometimes. Wanting for herself. Twisting the world all out of proper shape. Pushing everything about with the weight of her desire.\n\nShe closed the drawer and came to her feet. Looking around, she nodded to herself. She'd made a good beginning here. The vanity was obviously in need of some attention, but she couldn't taste the nature of it yet. Still, the place had a name and everything obvious was tended to.\n\nAuri took Foxen and headed down the unnamed stair, through Wains and Crumbledon and all the way back to Mantle. She fetched freshwater. She washed her face and hands and feet.\n\nAfter that she felt much better. She grinned, and on a whim she sprinted off to Delving. She hadn't visited in ages and missed the warm earth smell of it. The closeness of the walls.\n\nRunning lightly on her toes, Auri danced through Rubric, ducking pipes. She skipped through Woods, reaching out to swing herself from time-worn beams that held the sagging roof at bay. Finally she came to a swollen wooden door.\n\nStepping through, she held Foxen high. She smelled the air. She grinned. She knew exactly where she was. Everything was just where it should be." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "THE SECOND DAY, Auri woke to silence in the perfect dark.\n\nThat meant a turning day. A doing day. Good. There was much to do before he came. She wasn't nearly ready.\n\nShe roused Foxen and folded up her blanket, careful to keep the corners off the floor. She glanced around the room, her box and leaf and lavender were fine. Her bed was fine. Everything was just as it should be.\n\nThere were three ways out of Mantle. The hallway was for later. The doorway was for now. The door was oak, bound in iron. Auri did not look at it.\n\nIn Port the stone figurine and the length of lace had made themselves at home. The brave crystal was content in the wine rack. The arm bone and linen sack were so comfortable you'd think they'd been therefor a hundred years. The old black buckle was crowding the resin a bit, but that was quickly mended. She nudged it to one side to keep things civilized.\n\nShe looked around and sighed. Everything was fine except for the great brass gear. It exasperated her.\n\nShe picked the crystal up and set it next to the gear. But that didn't help at all and just upset the crystal. It was brave enough for ten, but it wasn't for the corner table. She gave it a quick kiss byway of apology and returned it to the wine rack.\n\nAuri picked up the heavy gear with both hands and brought it into Mantle. It was unheard of, really, but by this point she was at something of a loss. She set it on the narrow ledge of stone on the wall opposite her bed. She tipped it so the empty gap its missing tooth made was straight up toward the ceiling. As if it were reaching upward with its too-short stubby arms." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Stepping back, she looked at it and sighed. Better. But even so, it wasn't quite the proper place.\n\nAuri washed her face and hands and feet. Her thin sliver of soap smelled of sunlight and that made her smile. Then she slipped into her second favorite dress, as it had better pockets. It was a turning day, after all.\n\nIn Port she put her linen gathersack over one shoulder, tucking a few things inside. Then she packed her pockets full as full. Before she left, Auri glanced back into Mantle at the brazen gear. But no. If it had wanted to come, it should have been content to stay in Port. Proud thing.\n\nIn Van she was startled to find the mirror was unsettled. Anxious even. Hardly an auspicious start to her day. Still, it was the sort of thing only a fool would willfully ignore. And Auri was no fool.\n\nBesides, the mirror had been around for quite awhile, so she knew its little ways. It wanted moving, but it needed to be settled first. It needed to be comforted. Coaxed. It needed covering. So, despite the fact that she was yet unbrushed, Auri gathered up Foxen and took the long way down to Wains, walking slowly to her newly opened door as she eyed the frescoes overhead.\n\nShe stopped briefly in the sitting room, looking around. The tiny wrongness was still there, like a hint of gristle in her teeth. It wouldn't bother her if everything else here wasn't almost circle perfect.\n\nBut somethings simply can't be rushed. Auri knew this fora fact. Besides, she needed the mirror set to rights before anything else. That meant covering. So she headed up the unnamed stair, her feet skipping back and forth to miss the unsafe stones. Then she headed through the broken wall and into Tumbrel." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Once there, Auri opened up the wardrobe's drawer. She did not touch the sheets, instead her hands went to her pockets. She felt the smooth facets of the brave crystal. No. She touched the curved lines of the kind stone figurine. No. The flat black rock? No.\n\nThen her fingers touched the buckle and she smiled. She brought it out and set it gently in the drawer. Then she lifted out the topmost folded sheet. It was smooth and creamy in her hands. Pale as ivory.\n\nAuri stopped then, looking at the blackness of the buckle in the drawer. There was a stone in her stomach. It didn't belong here. Oh it seemed sensible. Oh yes. Certainly. But she knew what seeming was worth in the end, didn't she?\n\nReluctantly, she lay the sheet back in the drawer, her fingers ran over its perfect whiteness, smooth and clean and new. There was a hint of winter in it.\n\nBut no. There is a difference between the truth and what we wish were true. Sighing, Auri took the buckle back and pushed it deep into her pocket.\n\nLeaving the sheet where it was, Auri headed back to Mantle. She moved more slowly now, no skipping. The trip down the unnamed stair cheered her somewhat. Her path staggered drunkenly back and forth as she moved from one safe section to another.\n\nA stone turned underneath her feet, and Auri pinwheeled her arms to keep from slipping. She cocked her head to the side, standing balanced on one foot. Was this place Tipple then? No. It was too sly for that.\n\nThe mirror was still restless back in Van. And with no better options, Auri was forced to fetch her blanket from her bed. Careful not to let it touch the ground, she draped it over the mirror before turning it to face the wall. Only then could it be moved across the room so that it stood before the bricked-over window where it so desperately wanted to be." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She returned her blanket to Mantle and washed her face and hands and feet. Coming back to Van, she saw her time had been well spent. She'd never seen her mirror so content. Grinning at herself, she brushed the elf knots from her hair until it hung around her like a golden cloud.\n\nBut just as she was finishing, when she lifted up her arms to push her cloud of hair behind her, Auri staggered just a bit, all sudden dizzy. After it passed, she walked slowly to Cricklet and took along, deep drink. She felt the cool water run all along her insides with nothing to stop it. She felt hollow inside. Her stomach was an empty fist.\n\nHer feet wanted to go to Applecourt, but she knew there were no apples left. He wouldn't be waiting there, anyway. Not until the seventh day. Which was good, really. She had nothing suitable to share. Nor nothing halfway good enough to be a proper gift.\n\nSo she went to Tree instead. Her pans were hanging in their proper places. Her spirit lamp just so. The cracked clay cup was sitting quietly. Everything was just as it should be.\n\nThat said, she had more tools than food in Tree. On the shelves there was the sack of salt he'd given her. There were four fat figs swaddled modestly in a sheet of folded paper. A single, lonely, withered apple. A handful of dried peas sat sadly at the bottom of a clear glass jar.\n\nSet into the stone counter was a chill-well, running with a slow but constant stream of icy water. But it was keeping nothing cool save fora lump of yellow butter, and that was full of knives, scarcely fit for eating.\n\nOn the counter was a fine and wondrous thing. A silver bowl, all brimming full of nutmeg pittems. Round and brown and smooth as river stones, they had come visiting from long-off lands. They filled the air, almost singing of their faraway. Auri eyed them longingly and ran her fingertips along the edge of their silver bowl. It was etched with twining leaves...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But no. Rare and lovely as they were, she did not think they would be good for eating. Not now at any rate. In that way they were like the butter, not food exactly. They were mysteries that wished to bide their time in Tree.\n\nAuri climbed onto the stone counter so she could reach the apple where it perched up high upon its shelf. Then she sat next to the chill well, cross-legged, back straight, and cut the apple into seven equal pieces before eating it. It was leathery and full of autumn.\n\nAfter that she was still hungry, so she brought down the paper and lay it in front of herself, unfolding it carefully. Then she ate three of the figs, taking dainty bites and humming to herself. By the time she finished, her hands weren't shaking anymore. She wrapped the single fig backup and set it on the shelf, then climbed down to the floor. She cupped some water from the well and drank it. She grinned. It gave her belly shivers.\n\nAfter eating, Auri knew it was past time she found the brazen gear its proper place.\n\nShe tried to flatter it at first. Using both hands, she sat it carefully atop the mantelpiece beside her box of stone. It ignored the compliment and simply sat there, not one bit more forthcoming than it had been before.\n\nSighing, Auri picked it up with both hands and carried it to Umbrel, but it wasn't happy in amongst the ancient barrels there. Neither did it want to rest in Cricklet near the stream. She carried it through all of Darkhouse, setting it on every windowsill, but none of them suited it in the least.\n\nArms growing sore from the weight of it, Auri tried to be irritated, but she couldn't stay angry. The gear was unlike anything she had ever seen before in all her years below. Just looking at it made her happy. And heavy as it was, it was a joy to touch. It was a sweet thing. A silent bell that struck out love. All the while she carried it, it sang through her fingers of the secret answers that it held." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "No. She couldn't be angry. It was doing everything it could. It washer own fault for not knowing where it belonged. Answers were always important, but they were seldom easy. She would simply have to take her time and do things in the proper way.\n\nJust to be sure, Auri carried the gear back to where she'd found it. She would be sad to see it go, but sometimes there was nothing else to do. Somethings simply were too true to stay. Some merely came to visit fora while.\n\nAs Auri stepped inside the arching darkness of The Grey Twelve, Foxen's light stretched up toward the unseen ceiling. His calm green glow reached out between the pipes that tangled on the walls. This was a different place today. That was its nature. Even so, Auri knew that she was welcome here. Or, if not welcome, at least indifferently ignored.\n\nAuri made her way farther into the room, where the deep black water of the pool lay smooth as glass. Carefully, she set the bright gear upright on the stone edge of pool, the gap from its broken tooth faced upward at an angle. She took a step back and covered Foxen with one hand. With nothing but the dim grey light from the grate above, the gear was nowhere near as shimmerant as it had been before. She eyed it closely fora breathless moment, head tilted to one side.\n\nThen she grinned. It didn't want to leave. That at least was clear. She picked it up and tried it on the narrow ledge above the pool beside her bottles. But it simply sat there, all aloof, coruscant with answers, taunting her.\n\nAuri sat cross-legged on the floor and tried to think what other place might fit the brazen gear. Mandril? Candlebear? She heard a hush of feather in the air. Wings beat hard, then stopped. Looking up, Auri saw the shape of a nightjar outlined against the dull grey circle of light entering the grate high above." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The bird struck something hard against the pipe, then ate it. A snail, she guessed. There was no need to guess the type of pipe though. The ting of it let Auri know it was iron, black and twice the thicken of her thumb. The nightjar tapped the pipe again, then dipped down to the pool to drink.\n\nAfter it drank, the bird winged quickly back to its previous perch. Back to the pipe. Back to stand in the center of the dim grey light. It tapped a third and final time.\n\nAuri's gut went cold. She sat up straight and eyed the bird intently. It stared back at her fora long moment, then flew away, having done what it had come to do.\n\nShe looked after it numbly, the chill in her gut making a slow knot. She couldn't ask for things to be more clear than that. Her pulse began to hammer at her then, her palms all sudden sweat.\n\nShe took off running and was gone a dozen steps before she remembered herself and hurried back. Embarrassed at her rudeness, she gave the brazen gear a kiss so it would know she wasn't leaving it. She would be back. Then she turned and sprinted off.\n\nFirst to Mantle, where she washed her face and hands and feet. She took a handkerchief out of her cedar box and pelted down through Rubric and Downings to Borough. Breathing hard, she finally stood before the unassuming wooden door that led to Tenance.\n\nHer gut all sour and chill with fear, Auri looked around the edges of the door and relaxed to see faint cobweb there. There was still time. Perhaps. She pressed her ear against the wood and listened along moment. Nothing. She slowly pulled it open." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Standing anxious in the doorway, Auri peered into the dusty room. She eyed the cobwebs hanging from the ceiling, she eyed the tables strewn with dusty tools. She eyed the shelves, packed with bottles, boxes, tin containers. She eyed the other door across the room. There was no hint of light around its edges.\n\nAuri did not like it here. It was not the Underthing. This was a between place. It was not for her. But as much as she did not like it, the other options were all worse.\n\nShe eyed the floor, covered with a fine layer of dust except fora set of heavy bootprints, black smudges scuffing through the grey dust on the floor. The bootprints told a story. They entered from the other door, moved from a table to a nearby shelf, then made a line to the doorway where she stood.\n\nAuri glared at the spot where they crossed the threshold. As they left the dusty floor of Tenance the bootprints became invisible. They were from long ago. But even now the sight made her heart thump. Her skin was all hot prickle, indignant at the thought of them. A second set of bootprints told the story in reverse. They returned to Tenance from the Underthing. They moved to tables, shelf, and out the other door. They made a circle of sorts. A circuit.\n\nThey were not new bootprints. Still, they told a story Auri did not love. They told a story she did not want to see repeated.\n\nShe drew a breath to calm herself. There was no time for this. They would becoming, all hard boots and arrogance and not one bit of proper knowledge of this place. A cold sweat swept the prickle heat all off her skin. She drew another calming breath and focused." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her expression fierce, Auri took a deep breath and crossed the threshold into Tenance. She placed her small white foot inside the black print of a boot. Her foot was small enough that this was no hard thing. Even so, she moved with slow deliberation. Her second step brought little more than her toes in contact with the floor. Her feet fit easily inside the bootprints, making no marks of their own.\n\nThus she moved, one delicate step at a time. First to a shelf, she eyed containers before picking up a heavy bottle with aground glass stopper. Next she took a brush and felt the bristles with her finger. Then she made her way back to the door, her steps as slow and graceful as a fawn's.\n\nShe closed the door behind her. Then, breathing out a sigh of deep relief, she ran herself to Rubric.\n\nEven moving quickly, it took an hour to find the proper place. Rubric's round brick tunnels ran the length and breadth of Underthing, miles and miles of passages, twisting up and down and doubling back, taking the pipes where they needed to go.\n\nJust as she was fearing she might never find it, just when she'd begun to fear it might not be in Rubric after all, Auri heard a sound like angry snakes and rain. If not for that, it might have taken her all day to track it down. She followed the noise until she could smell damp upon the air.\n\nFinally, turning a corner, she saw water bursting like a fountain from a cracked iron pipe. The spray had wet the bricks for twenty feet in each direction, and the other pipes were dripping with it too. The tiny brass pipes for pressed air didn't mind in the least. And the fat black pisspipe thought the whole thing rather funny. But the steampipe was not best pleased. Its thick wrapping was soaked straight through, and it was grumbling and steaming, filling the tunnel with a musty hothouse damp." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "From where she stood, Auri eyed the dark line of the broken black iron pipe, carefully tracing it through the others. Foxen held high, she walked away from the leak, following the dark pipe backward.\n\nAfter ten minutes and a quick detour through Tenners, Auri found the valve, a small wheel barely big enough for both her hands. Setting down her brush and bottle, she gripped it tight and twisted. Nothing. So she brought the handkerchief out of her pocket, wrapped it round the wheel, and tried again, her teeth bared with the effort. After along moment, the ungreased age of it gave way, and it grudgingly let itself be spun.\n\nShe gathered up her tools and headed back. There was no sound of snakes. The spray had stopped, but the entire tunnel was still sodden. The air hung wet and heavy, making her hair stick and cling to her face.\n\nAuri sighed. It was just as Master Mandrag said so many years ago. She walked back where the tunnel floor was dry and sat cross-legged on the bricks among the pipes.\n\nThen came the hardest part. The waiting grit at her. She had so much to do. This was important, certainly. But he was coming on the seventh day, and she was nowhere near to ready....\n\nShe heard something in the distance. Some echo of a sound. A scuff? A step? The sound of boots? Auri went startled and still. She closed her handover Foxen and sat all quiet in the sudden dark, straining to hear....\n\nBut no. There was nothing. The Underthing was host to a thousand small moving things, water in pipes, wind through Billows, the rumbling thrum of wagons filtering through the cobblestones, half-heard voices echoing down the grates. But no boots. Not now. Not yet." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She uncovered Foxen and went to look at the leak again. The air was still hot and thick with wet, so she went back to her sitting place where there was nothing to do but fidget and worry. Auri considered running back to fetch the brazen gear. Then at least she would have company. But no. She had to stay.\n\nA leak was bad. But a leak might go unnoticed for sometime. Now, with the water to this piece of pipe turned off entire, there was every chance that something vital up above was all alack. No knowing what. The pipe could lead to some disused piece of Mains, where it could stay dry for years with no one anyways the wiser.\n\nBut perhaps it led to the Master's Hall, and right now one of them was halfway through a bath. What if it led to Crucible, and some experiment left to calmly calcinate was instead undergoing unintended exothermic full cascade?\n\nIt led to the same thing. Upset. Folk finding keys. Folk opening doors. Strangers in her Underthing, shining their unseemly lights about. Their smoke. The braying of their voices. Tromping everywhere with hard, uncaring boots. Looking at everything without a single thought of what a look entails. Poking things and messing them about without the slightest sense of what was proper.\n\nAuri realized her fists were knots of knuckle white. She shook herself and stood. Her hair hung lank around her head.\n\nThe air was clearer now. Not wet and steaming anymore. She gathered up her tools and was glad to seethe steampipe had finally roasted both itself and everything around it dry. Better still, the slow regard of silent things had wafted off the moisture in the air." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Auri brought Foxen close to the black iron pipe, and was relieved to seethe trouble was no greater than a hair-thin crack." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Though the pipe looked dry, she wiped it with her handkerchief. Wiped it again. Then she unstoppered the bottle, dipped her brush, and spread clear liquid all across the tiny break.\n\nWrinkling her nose at the knifelike smell, Auri dipped her brush again, painting all around the pipe. She grinned and eyed the bottle. It was lovely. Tenaculum was tricky stuff, but this was perfect. Not thick like jam, not thin like water. It clung and stuck and spread. It was full of green grass and leaping and... sulphonium? Naphtha? Hardly what she would have used, but you couldn't argue with results. The craft employed was undeniable.\n\nSoon she had coated the entire pipe around the crack in glistening liquid. She licked her lips, looked up, then worked her mouth and spat delicately onto the far edge of the wet. The surface of the tenaculum rippled and her grin grew wider. She reached out a finger and was pleased to find it hard and smooth as glass. Oh yes. Whoever wrought and factored this was living proof that alchemy was art. It showed pure mastery of craft.\n\nAuri painted two more coats, laving all way round the pipe and fora handspan off beside the hairline crack. Twice more she spat to set and glaze it. Then she stoppered up the bottle, kissed it, smiled, and sprinted back to turn the water on.\n\nHer duty done, Auri tended to the brush and headed back to Tenance. She pressed her ear against the door. Listened. She heard a faint... No. Nothing. She held her breath and listened. Nothing.\n\nEven so, she opened the door slowly. She looked inside to see there was no light around the other door. Fora moment her heart stuttered as she thought she saw new bootprints on... But no. Just shadow. Just her own breath-catching fear." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Carry on with the plot as the author's writing partner.\nTags: fantasy, character study, novella\nAuthor: Patrick Rothfuss\nTitle: The Slow Regard of Silent Things\nChapter: 6" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Auri brought Foxen close to the black iron pipe, and was relieved to seethe trouble was no greater than a hair-thin crack." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Though the pipe looked dry, she wiped it with her handkerchief. Wiped it again. Then she unstoppered the bottle, dipped her brush, and spread clear liquid all across the tiny break.\n\nWrinkling her nose at the knifelike smell, Auri dipped her brush again, painting all around the pipe. She grinned and eyed the bottle. It was lovely. Tenaculum was tricky stuff, but this was perfect. Not thick like jam, not thin like water. It clung and stuck and spread. It was full of green grass and leaping and... sulphonium? Naphtha? Hardly what she would have used, but you couldn't argue with results. The craft employed was undeniable.\n\nSoon she had coated the entire pipe around the crack in glistening liquid. She licked her lips, looked up, then worked her mouth and spat delicately onto the far edge of the wet. The surface of the tenaculum rippled and her grin grew wider. She reached out a finger and was pleased to find it hard and smooth as glass. Oh yes. Whoever wrought and factored this was living proof that alchemy was art. It showed pure mastery of craft.\n\nAuri painted two more coats, laving all way round the pipe and fora handspan off beside the hairline crack. Twice more she spat to set and glaze it. Then she stoppered up the bottle, kissed it, smiled, and sprinted back to turn the water on.\n\nHer duty done, Auri tended to the brush and headed back to Tenance. She pressed her ear against the door. Listened. She heard a faint... No. Nothing. She held her breath and listened. Nothing.\n\nEven so, she opened the door slowly. She looked inside to see there was no light around the other door. Fora moment her heart stuttered as she thought she saw new bootprints on... But no. Just shadow. Just her own breath-catching fear." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Carefully she put the bottle back upon its shelf, setting it inside its own dark dustless ring where she had found it." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And then the brush. She stepped carefully inside the big black brutish treadings of the boots. She wasn't one for rucking things about. She stepped the way the water moves within a gentle wave. Never mind the motion, the water stays unchanged. That was the proper way of things.\n\nShe slowly closed the heavy door behind her. She checked the latch to make herself most certain sure. Stepping back into the Underthing, the stones should have been sweet beneath her feet. But they were not. They were mere stones. The air seemed strange and strained. Something was wrong.\n\nShe stopped and listened at the door again. She listened closer, then opened up the door a crack to peer inside. Nothing. She closed the door and checked the latch. She leaned her weight against the door and tried to sigh but could not find the breath for it inside her chest. Something was wrong. She had forgotten something.\n\nAuri ran back to Rubric, heart stuttering as she turned wrong. Then wrong again. But then she found the valve again. She went down on her knees to make herself most certain sure she'd turned it open and not closed. She put both hands upon the pipe and felt the tremble of the water running through.\n\nNot that then. But still. Had she moved carefully enough? Had she left a smudge upon the floor? Auri sprinted back to Tenance and put her ear against the door. Nothing. She opened the door and lifted Foxen high so that his light shone down onto the dust. Nothing.\n\nBy now her skin was all asheen with sweat. She closed the heavy door. She checked the latch and leaned her slender weight against it, pressing with her hands and forehead. She tried to breathe more deeply but her heart was stiff and tight inside her chest. There was something wrong about the air. The door refused to sit right in its frame. She pressed against it with both palms. She checked the latch. Foxen's light seemed suddenly too thin. Had she moved carefully enough? No. She knew. She listened, then opened up the door and looked again. Nothing. But simply seeing did not help. She knew that seeming wasn't hardly half of things. Something was wrong. She tried, but she could simply not unclench. She could not catch her breath. The stones beneath her feet were nothing like her stones. She needed to get somewhere safe." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Despite the stones, the strangeness in the air, Auri started walking back to Mantle. She took the safest way, but even so her steps were slow. And even so, she sometimes had to stop and close her eyes and merely breathe. And even so, the breathing hardly helped. How could it when the air itself had gone untrue?\n\nThe angles were all wrong in Pickering but she didn't realize how lost she had become until she looked around and found herself in Scaperling. She did not know how she had come to be so out of place, but there was no denying where she was. The damp was all around. The smell of rot. The grit under her feet. The way the walls were leering. She turned and turned again but could not find her place.\n\nShe tried to push ahead. She knew that if she walked and turned and walked eventually she must leave grim, gritty Scaperling behind. She would come out into a friendly place. Or at least a place that did not twist and cramp and loom all round her.\n\nSo she walked and turned and looked around, hoping beyond hope fora glimpse of the familiar. Hoping that the stones might slowly start to belong underneath her feet. But no. The hammer of her heart told her to run. She needed her safe place. She needed to get back to Mantle. But where was the way of it? Even if she knew the way, the air was growing tight and dizzy all around her. Though she was loath to touch them, Auri stretched her hand to lean against the sharp unkindness of the wall.\n\nSlow steps. A turn. She smiled to see things open up ahead of her. Finally. Her chest began to loosen up when finally she saw the end of Scaperling ahead. She took two steps before she realized what way it offered out. She stopped. No. No no. The tangle of unwelcome tunnel opened up ahead. But it opened out into the vast and empty quiet of Black Door." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Auri did not even turnaround. She merely took step after slow and sliding step back the same way she had come. It was hard. The wall caught at her hand and worried it, scraping skin off of her knuckles. The damp tight knot of Scaperling did not want her back inside. But Black Door did. The wide and welcome path to Black Door stretched before her like a dark black open mouth. A maw. A maul.\n\nStep after step she forced her way backward into Scaperling. She did not dare to let the way to Black Door out of sight. She did not dare let it behind her, all unseen. Unseemly. All unseamed.\n\nFinally she backed around a corner and sank trembling to the floor. She needed everything to not come all apart around her. She needed to get back to Mantle. She needed her most perfect place. There the stones were safe under her feet. There everything was sweet and proper true.\n\nShe was dizzy and askant and slant. She shook and could not bring herself to stand, so she folded herself in and sat crosslegged upon the floor.\n\nShe sat therefor along and silent while. She closed her eyes. She closed her mouth. She covered Foxen with her hand. All small she sat. All still. The grubby dank of Scaperling got in her hair, made it hang heavy. She let her tangleness fall all around her in a curtain. It made a tiny space inside. It was a small space just for her.\n\nAuri opened up her eyes and looked into this tiny private place. She saw brave Foxen bravely shining in the shelter of her hands. She uncovered him, and even though his light was thin and thready, the sight of him in this small space made Auri smile. She felt around inside herself for her true perfect name and though it took along and lonesome moment, finally she felt it there. It was shivery and scant. Scared. Skint. But just around the edges it was still scintillant. It was still hers. It shone." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Moving slowly, Auri stood and made her slow way out of Scaperling. The air was thick and shuddersome. The walls were full of spite. The stones begrudged her every step. All everything was snarling allapart. But even so she found her way to Pickering, the walls were merely sullen there. Then she made her way to Dunnings.\n\nThen Auri finally felt the stones of Mantle underneath her feet. She lightly stepped inside her oh most perfect place. She washed her face and hands and feet. It helped. She sat fora long moment in her perfect chair. She enjoyed her perfect leaf. She breathed the lovely ordinary air. Her skin no longer felt stretched tight. Her heart grew buttery and warm. Foxen was fulsome again, even effulgent.\n\nAuri went to Van and brushed her hair until the damp and tangle were all gone. She drew a breath and sighed it out. Her name was sweet inside her chest. All things were in their proper place again. She grinned." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "AFTER TAKING A MOMENT for her leisure, Auri got a drink of water from the pool in Mote, then headed back down to gather up the brazen gear. It was patient as three stones, but still, it deserved to find its proper place as much as anyone.\n\nFor lack of any better ideas, Auri carried it down to Wains. Perhaps it belonged there. Or better yet, perhaps the brazen thing might hint to her of what the tiny hidden wrongness was that kept the sitting room from ringing sweetly as a bell.\n\nOr perhaps she might seethe gear in a better light down there. Especially with the place so new and nearly perfect. It was as good a place as any, she supposed.\n\nSo down she went, to proper, rich, wood-paneled Wains. Then into her new sitting room. She sat the brazen gear upon the couch and curled up close beside it, tucking her feet underneath herself.\n\nIt wasn't anymore content. Auri sighed and cocked her head at it. Poor thing. To be so lovely and so lost. To be all answerful with all that knowing trapped inside. To be beautiful and broken. Auri nodded and lay her hand gently on the gear's smooth face consolingly.\n\nPerhaps Throughbottom? Why hadn't she thought of that before? True, when she thought of love and answers, the ancient wreckage in the cavern hardly sprang to mind. But maybe that was just the point. Perhaps some long-dead hulking mechanata was in desperate need of nine bright teeth and love in its abandoned heart?\n\nAuri ran one finger down its side, her skin snagging a little on the jagged edge where its tenth tooth was torn away.\n\nThat's when it struck her like a thunderclap. She knew exactly what was wrong. Of course. She leapt up to her feet, grinning excitedly. She pulled the corner of the carpet up, rolling it until she saw the button laying there, content." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her hands flew to her pockets, looking for... Yes.\n\nAuri set the tarnished buckle down beside the button. She nudged it closer. Turned it. There. She trembled slightly as she put the carpet back in place. She smoothed it flat with both her hands.\n\nShe came to her feet and there was a click inside her like a key inside a lock. The room was perfectas a circle now. Like a bell. Like the moon when it was perfect full.\n\nAuri laughed in delight, and every piece of the laughing was a tiny bird come tumbling out to fly around the room.\n\nShe stood in the center of the room and spun in a circle to see it all. And when her eyes passed over the ring on the table, she saw it no longer belonged here. It was free to go as it pleased. It sang golden all through itself, and the amber it held was gentle as an autumn afternoon.\n\nBrimming with joy, Auri danced. Her bare feet white against the moss-soft darkness of the carpet.\n\nHer heart tumbling happily within her, Auri gathered up the brazen gear again, smiling as her hands closed around it. She was barely halfway back to Mantle when she heard a hint of music.\n\nAuri went as motionless as stone. Silent as the stillness in a heart. It couldn't be. Not yet. She had days and days. She wasn't nearly-\n\nShe heard again. Faint. A sound that could have been the chime of glass on glass, that might have been a bird, but that might also be the distant singing of a tight-stretched string.\n\nHe was here! Days early and her half-smudged and empty-handed both. But even so, her heart stepped sideways in her chest at the thought of seeing him again." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Auri sprinted back to Mantle faster than a rabbit with a wolf behind." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She took the fastest way, even though it went through Faceling with its damp and fear and the horrid smell of hot flowers hanging in the air.\n\nBack in Mantle, she set the brass gear up above the fireplace. Then Auri washed her face and hands and feet. She shucked herself and donned her favorite dress.\n\nThen, quivering with nervous excitement, she hurried into Port and eyed the shelves. Not the bone, of course. Not the book either. Not yet. She put two fingers on the crystal, picked it up, turned it over. She breathed, tasting the air. She put it down again.\n\nShe shifted foot to foot and glanced into Mantle. Her perfect yellow leaf was almost right. The brazen gear was sullen now, and much too proud. He had enough of that.\n\nThere washer newfound ring of autumn gold. That was fine enough, surely. And it suited him, twice bright. But as a gift it was... foreboding. She did not wish to hint at him of demons.\n\nThen she spied the small jar, mouth open. Her eyes flicked over to the other shelf with its scattering of holly berry, bright as blood upon the cloth. Excitement welled up in her chest. She grinned.\n\nShe grabbed the berries and funneled them into the tiny bottle. They fit perfectly. Of course. They were dutiful and true. Hollybottle. To keep him safe. An early visit. Music.\n\nIt was more makeshift than she liked. Barely proper. But truth be told he was the early one. It was sufficient for an early visit. She darted out the door, her feet tap tapping all the way through Grimsby, then down Oars, and finally up to Trip Beneath." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Auri paused there, underneath the heavy drainage grate. Her heart hammered as she tried to listen. Nothing. Had she really heard? Was he waiting? Had she dithered until he had grown bored and left?\n\nShe put Foxen in his tiny box, then worked the hidden catch and pushed against the heavy iron bars above with trembling arms. The grate swung wide, and Auri clambered up to Applecourt, sheltered by the hedges there. She went still. Listened. No voices. Good. No light in the windows. Good.\n\nThe moon was looking into Applecourt. Not a good moon. Auri looked out from the safety of the hedge, peering at the sky. No clouds. She closed her eyes and listened again. Nothing.\n\nShe took a deep breath and darted through the open grass to stand beneath the sheltering branches of Lady Larbor. There she stopped to breathe, going still as steading. After looking round again, she scampered up the twisty branches. It was tricky with the hollybottle in one hand. She slipped a little, rough bark scritching at the bottoms of her feet.\n\nThen she was On Top Of Things. She could see everything and forever. All of Temerant spooled endlessly away beneath her feet. It was so nice she almost didn't care about the moon.\n\nShe could seethe prickly chimbleys of Crucible, and winged Mews all full of flickerlight. To the east she spied the silver line of the Old Stone Road cutting gully-deep into the forest, off to Stonebridge, over the river, and away away away....\n\nBut he wasn't here. There wasn't anything. Just warm tar under her feet. And chimbleys. And the sharpness of the moon." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Auri clutched the hollybottle in her hand. She looked around and stepped into the shadow of a bricktree chimbley so the moon couldn't watch her.\n\nShe held her breath and listened. He wasn't here. But maybe. Maybe if she waited.\n\nShe looked around. The wind huffed by and swirled her hair around her face. She brushed it back, frowning. He wasn't here. Of course he wasn't. He wasn't coming till the seventh day. She knew. She knew the way of things.\n\nAuri stood there motionless, her hands close to her chest. She held the hollybottle. Her eyes flicked about the moonswept rooftops.\n\nShe sat cross-legged on the tin, in the shadow of brickery.\n\nShe looked around. She waited." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "EVENTUALLY A CLOUD hid the moon. Smug thing. And Auri took the chance to scamper back into the Underthing.\n\nHer heart was heavy all the way through Tenners. But she found a large tangle of dry wood in Umbrel, washed down the grates in some forgotten storm. Ash and elm and hawthorn. So much wood it took six trips to carryall of it to Mantle. It was quite a find, and by the end of it, she was near to whistling.\n\nAuri washed her face and hands and feet. Smiling at the smell of her yet-more-slender sliver of sweet soap, she donned her second favorite dress again. It was still a doing day.\n\nAfter filling her pockets and picking up her gathersack, she made her way to Mandril. She didn't even need to wet her feet, as there hadn't been a heavy rain in ages. At the farthest tail of the twisting way, Auri stopped before the final corner. There was a hint of moonlight up ahead, so she gave Foxen a quick kiss before tucking him inside his tiny wooden box.\n\nShe took the final piece of Mandril more by memory than sight, stepping carefully until she stood behind the upright runoff grate that looked out onto nothing much except the bottom of a gully. Auri moved to stand next to the heavy bars. From there she saw the bulk of Haven up upon the hill, a shadow looming large against the starry sky. A few lights burned in windows, some red, some yellow, and one upon the topmost floor a bright and chilling blue.\n\nShe held her breath then. No voices. No hooves. No howling. She looked up and saw the stars, the moon, and a few slender shreds of cloud. She watched the cloudscrap slowly scull across the sky. She waited till it hid the slender moon." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Only then did Auri work the hidden latch inside the grate so it swung open like a door. Then she scurried up the gully, across a stretch of well-groomed lawn, and ducked into the shadows underneath a spreading oak.\n\nShe stood there, motionless awhile until her heart stopped racing. Until she was most certain sure that she had not been seen.\n\nThen Auri edged around the tree until the building could no longer see her. And after that she turned and disappeared into the woods.\n\nAuri found the place while picking pine cones. A small, forgotten graveyard, stones overgrown with ivy. Roses ran wild, climbing the remains of an ancient wrought iron fence.\n\nArms close to her body, hands beneath her chin, Auri stepped into the graveyard. Her tiny feet were silent as she moved among the stones.\n\nThe moon was out again, but she was lower now, and bashful. Auri smiled at her, glad for the company now that she was no longer On Top of Things and Haven was far gone behind. Hereon the edge of the clearing the moon showed acorns scattered on the ground. Auri spent a few minutes picking up the ones with perfect hats and tucking them into her gathersack.\n\nShe strolled between the stones, stopping at a broken one, the letters worn away with rain and age. She touched it with two fingers and moved on. She lifted up the ivy on a monument, then turned to seethe laurel tree that loomed in the far corner of the yard. Its roots were all among the stones, its branches spread above. It was a lonely thing. All odd and out of place.\n\nStepping close, her small feet fitting neatly in between the roots, Auri pressed her hand against the tree's dark trunk. She breathed in deep the warm scent of its leaves. She slowly circled it and spied a dark gap down among the roots." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nodding, Auri reached into her gathersack and brought out the bone that she had found the day before. She bent down and tucked it deep inside the dark and hollow space beneath the tree. She smiled with satisfaction.\n\nStanding, she dusted off her knees and stretched. Then she began to pick the small blue laurel fruit and put them in her gathersack as well.\n\nShe explored the forest after that. She found a mushroom, which she ate. She found a leaf and breathed on it. She looked up at the stars.\n\nLater still, Auri crossed a creek she'd never seen before and was surprised to find a tiny farmhouse tucked among the trees.\n\nSurprised but pleased. It was a seemly place. All stone, with slate upon its pointed roof. On the back porch, near the door, there was a small table. A wooden plate covered with an overturned wooden bowl rested there. Beside it was a bowl of clay, covered with a glazed clay plate.\n\nAuri lifted the wooden bowl and found apiece of fresh brown bread beneath. It held health and heart and hearth. A lovely thing, and full of invitation. She put it in her pocket.\n\nShe knew the other bowl held milk, but the plate that covered it faced up. It was not for her. She left it for the faeries.\n\nKeeping in the shadow, Auri made her way around the garden to the barn. There was a strange dog there, all gristle and bay. It massed half again as much as her, its shoulders coming nearly to her chest. It stepped out of the shadows when she came close to the barn.\n\nIt was black, with a thick neck and scars all cross its face. One ear was ragged and chewed from some forgotten fight. It padded closer to her, massive head held low, moving suspiciously from side to side, eyeing her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Auri grinned and held out her hand. The dog snuffled at her, then licked her fingers before making a great gawp of a yawn and settling down to sleep.\n\nThe barn was huge: stone below with painted wood above. The doors were closed and fastened with a fat iron paddock lock. But high above, the hayloft was thrown wide to greet the night. Auri climbed the ivy-knotted stone as quickly as a squirrel. She went slower up the second half, the barn-boards odd against her fingers and her feet.\n\nThe barn was full of musk and sleep. Dark too, save fora few thin bands of moonlight slanting through the wooden walls. Auri opened Foxen's tiny box, and his blue-green light welled out to fill the open space.\n\nAn old horse nuzzled Auri's neck as she walked by his stall. She smiled at him and took the time to brush his tail and mane. There was a pregnant nanny goat which bleated out a greeting. Auri scooped some grain into her trough. There was a cat, and they ignored each other.\n\nAuri spent sometime there, looking over everything. The grindstone. The quern. The small, well-fitted churn. A bearskin stretched upon a rack to cure. It was a quite uncommon, pleasant place. Everything was tended to and loved. Nothing she could see was useless, lost, or wrong.\n\nWell, nearly nothing. Even the tightest ship lets slip a little water. A single turnip had gone tumbling from its bin to lie abandoned on the floor. Auri put it in her gathersack.\n\nThere was a large stone sweatbox, too. It was stacked with slabs of ice, each thicker than a cinder brick and twice as long. Inside she found butchered meat and sweet cream butter. There was a lump of suet in a bowl, a sheet of honeycomb upon a tray." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The suet was enraged. It was a storm of autumn apples, age, and anger. It wanted nothing more than to be on its way. She tucked it deep inside her bag.\n\nOh. But the honeycomb. It was lovely. Not one bit stolen. The farmer loved the bees and did things in the proper way. It was full of silent bells and drowsy summer afternoon.\n\nAuri felt inside her pockets. Her fingers passed over the crystal and the small stone doll. The rock wasn't proper for this place either. She reached inside her gathersack and felt around among the acorns she'd collected.\n\nFora long moment, it seemed like nothing she had brought would make a proper fit. But then her fingers found it and she knew. Carefully she brought out the length of fine white tatted lace. She folded it and left it near the churn. It was the careful work of many long and drowsy autumn days. It would find purpose in a place like this.\n\nThen Auri took the clean white cloth that had held the hollyberry earlier and rubbed it with some butter. Then she broke off apiece of sticky comb the size of her spread hand and wrapped it up as tidy as can be.\n\nShe would have loved to have some butter too, as hers was full of knives. There were eleven squared-off pats of it lined up upon the sweatbox shelf. Full of clover and birdsong and, oddly, sullen hints of clay. Even so they were all lovely. Auri searched her gathersack and looked through all her pockets twice, but in the end she still came up alack.\n\nShe closed the sweatbox tight. Then up the ladder to the open window of the loft. She put Foxen away, then made her slow way down the side of the barn, gathersack slung tight across her back." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "On the ground Auri brushed her floating hair out of her face, then kissed the hulking dog atop his sleeping head. She skipped around the corner of the barn and took a dozen steps before the prickle on her neck told her that she was being watched.\n\nShe froze mid-step, gone still as stone. Touched by the wind, her hair moved of its own accord, slowly drifting to surround her face as gently as a puff of smoke.\n\nMoving nothing but her eyes, Auri saw her. Upon the second floor, in the blackness of an open window, Auri saw a paleface even smaller than her own. A little girl was watching her, eyes wide, a tiny hand against her mouth.\n\nWhat had she seen? Foxen's green light shining through the slats? Auri's tiny shape, obscured by hairlike thistlepuff, barefoot in the moonlight?\n\nAuri's sudden smile was hidden by the curtain of her hair. She did a cartwheel then. Her first in ages. Her fine hair following, a comet tail. She cast her eyes around and saw a tree, a dark hole in its trunk. Auri danced toward it, twirling and leaping, then bent to look inside the hole.\n\nThen, her back to the farmhouse, Auri opened Foxen's box and heard a single tiny gasp thread through the silent night behind her. She pressed one hand against her mouth so that she wouldn't laugh. The hole was perfect, just deep enough so that a little girl could reach inside and feel around. If she were curious, that is. If she were brave enough to stick her arm in nearly to her shoulder.\n\nAuri pulled the crystal from her pocket. She kissed it, brave explorer that it was, and lucky too. It was the perfect thing. This was the perfect place. True, she was no longer in the Underthing. But even so, this was so true it could not be denied." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She wrapped the crystal in a leaf and lay it in the bottom of the hole.\n\nThen she ran into the trees, dancing, leaping, giggling high and wild.\n\nShe went back to the boneyard then, and climbed atop a large flat slab. Back straight and smiling, Auri made a proper dinner for herself of soft brown bread with just a hint of honey. For afters she had pine nuts fresh-picked from their cones, each one a tiny, perfect treat.\n\nAll the while her heart was brimming. Her grin was brighter than the slender crescent moon. She licked her fingers too, as if she were some tawdry thing, all wicked and unseemly." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "ON THE THIRD DAY, Auri wept." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "WHEN AURI WOKE on the fourth day, things had changed.\n\nShe could tell before she stretched awake. Before she cracked her eyes into the seamless dark. Foxen was frightened and full of mountains. So today was a tapering day. A burning day.\n\nShe didn't blame him. She knew what it could be like. Some days simply lay on you like stones. Some were fickle as cats, sliding away when you needed comfort, then coming back later when you didn't want them, jostling at you, stealing your breath.\n\nNo. She didn't blame Foxen. But for half a minute she wished it was a different sort of day, even though she knew that nothing good could come from wanting at the world. Even though she knew it was a wicked thing to do.\n\nEven so, burning days were flickersome. Too frangible by half. They were not good days for doing. They were good days for staying put and keeping the ground steady underneath your feet.\n\nBut she only had three days left. There was still so much to do.\n\nMoving gently in the dark, Auri picked up Foxen from his dish. He fairly smoldered with fear, there would be no persuading him like this, so sullen he was nearly truculent. So she gave him a kiss and returned him to his proper place. Then she made her way out of bed under the tenebrific blanket of the full and heavy dark. It made no difference if her eyes were open, so she left them closed while her hands sought out her cedar box. She left them closed while she brought outmatches and a candle.\n\nShe dragged a match against the floor where it spittered, sparked, then broke. Her heart sank. A bad start fora bad day. The second match hardly sparked at all, just gritted. The third snapped. The fourth flared and faded. The fifth ground itself down into nothing. And that was all of them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Auri sat fora moment in the dark. It had been like this before sometimes. Not fora longtime now, but she remembered. She had been sitting like this, empty as eggshell. Hollow and chest-heavy in the angry dark when she'd first heard him playing. Back before he'd given her her sweet new perfect name. Apiece of sun that never left her. It was a bite of bread. A flower in her heart.\n\nThinking of this made it easier for her to stand. She knew the way to her bedtable. The basin had freshwater. She would wash her face and hands-\n\nBut there was no soap. She'd used the last of it. And all her other cakes were off where they belonged, in Bakery.\n\nShe sat down on the floor again beside her bed. She closed her eyes. She almost stayed there, too, all cut-string and tangle-haired and lonely as a button.\n\nBut he was coming. He would be here soon, all sweet and brave and shattered and kind. He would come carrying and clever-fingered and oh so unaware of oh so many things. He was rough against the world, but even so....\n\nThree days. He would come visiting in three short days. And for all her work and wander, she hadn't found a proper present for him yet. For all that she was wise about the way of things, she hadn't caught an empty echo of anything that she could bring.\n\nNo proper gift nor nothing yet to share. It simply wouldn't do. So Auri gathered herself in and climbed up slowly to her feet.\n\nThere were three ways out of Mantle. The hallway was dark. The doorway was dark. The door was dark and closed and empty and nothing.\n\nSo, without friends or light to guide her, Auri made her slow and careful way out through the hallway, trekking toward Tree." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She went through Candlebear, her fingers brushing the wall lightly so she could find her way. She took the long way round, as Vaults was far too dangerous without alight. Then halfway through Pickering she stopped and turned around for fear that she would find The Black Twelve ahead. The air above as dark and still and chill as the pool below. She could not bear the thought of that today.\n\nThat meant there was noway for her but damp and moldy Scaperling instead. And if that weren't enough, the only proper way through Dunnings was unnecessarily narrow and all athwart with webs. They got in her hair, which made her sticky and cross.\n\nBut eventually she found her way to Tree. The tiny tickling sound of running water in the cold well came to greet her, and it was only then that she remembered how hungry she was. She found her few remaining matches on the shelf and lither spirit lamp. The sudden brightness of it hurt her eyes, and even after she recovered, the yellow jumping flame made everything look strange and anxious.\n\nShe put the five remaining matches in her pocket and took a drink of water from the cold well. The shelves looked more empty than usual in the odd, jittery light. She rinsed her hands and face and feet in the icy water. Then she sat down on the floor and ate the turnip in small bites. Then she ate her last remaining fig. Her tiny face was grave. The smell of nutmeg prickled in the air.\n\nAll flickerling and sticky with web, Auri made her way to Bakery. It wasn't oveny today. It was hunkered down and sullen, like a forgotten kiln.\n\nShe passed the mellow pipes and turned and turned again before she made her way to the little bricky niche so perfect for her hoard of soap to season in. Not hot, but dry. And-" }, { "from": "human", "value": "There was no soap." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her soap was gone.\n\nBut no. It was the shifting light from the spirit lamp, tricking her. All odd and yellow. It threw shadows everywhere. It changed the Underthing. It couldn't be trusted. This was obviously a different little bricky niche, empty as anything.\n\nShe turned around and followed her own footsteps back to Emberling. Then she went back, counting turns. Left and right. Left then left then right.\n\nNo. This was Bakery. This washer niche. But there was nothing there. No burlap sack. No careful cakes of perfect summer soap. Even in the low red radiant of that place Auri felt ice in her belly. Was someone in her Underthing? Was someone moving things about? Rucking up the smoothness of all her long, hard years of work?\n\nAll watery and loose inside she searched about, peering around corners and shining her lamp into shadows. Barely ten feet away, she found her burlap sack torn to tatters. Underneath the scent of her sweet cinnas soap was the smell of musk and piss. There was a tuft of fur where some small climbing beast had rubbed itself against a jutting brick.\n\nAuri stood. All tangle-haired and sticky. Her tiny face was stunned at first, numb in the flickerling yellow. Then her mouth grew furious. Her eyes went hard. Something had eaten all her perfect soap.\n\nReaching out, she took the tuft of fur between her fingers. The gesture was so tight with rage she feared she'd snap and crack the world in two. Eight cakes. An entire winter's worth of soap. Something had eaten all the perfect soap she'd made. It dared come here, into the proper place for soap, and eat it all." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She stamped her foot. She hoped the greedy thing shit fora week. She hoped it shit its awful self inside-out and backward, then fell into a crack and lost its name and died alone and hollow-empty in the angry dark.\n\nShe threw the tuft of fur down on the floor. She tried to run her fingers through her hair, but they snagged up in her tangleness. Fora second her hard eyes went all brimful, but she blinked them back.\n\nHot from Bakery, and all asweat with rage and the unrightness of it all, Auri turned and stormed away, her bare feet slapping angrily against the stone.\n\nHeading back to Mantle, Auri took the shorter way. All draggled and smirched she took a moment to dunk herself in the pool at the bottom of The Silver Twelve and felt a little better for it. It was no kind of proper bath. A dip. A rinse. And chilly. But better than nothing, if only just. The moon peered faintly through the grate above. But she was kind and distant, so Auri didn't mind.\n\nGetting out of the water, she shook herself and rubbed her damp skin with her hands. She couldn't think of going back to Bakery to dry. Not today. She eyed the moonlight peering in the grates above and had just begun to squeeze the water from her hair when she heard it. A tiny splashing. A tiny mewling squeak. The sound of distress.\n\nShe dashed around in along moment of panic. Sometimes a lost thing found its way down to the bottom of The Twelve and fell into the pool while drinking.\n\nIt took a breathless time to find it. Her damned awful flickerlight seemed to shed more shadow than it burned away. And echoes came from everywhere, scattered by the pipes and water in The Silver Twelve, so ears were hardly any help at all." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Finally she found it." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A tiny thing, mewling and paddling weakly. It was the next thing to a baby, barely old enough to be out on its own. Auri took hold of a hanging brace and leaned out long across the water, one leg lifting up for balance while her other arm went out above her head. She stretched like a dancer. Her hand described a gentle arc and dipped into the pool, gently scooping the tiny draggled thing up....\n\nAnd it bit her. It sunk its teeth into the meaty bit between her finger and her thumb.\n\nAuri blinked and pulled herself back to the edge, cupping the small skunk gently in her hand. It struggled, and she was forced to grip it tighter than she liked. If it fell into the pool again, it might gasp and drown before she found and fetched it out.\n\nOnce both her feet were back upon the stone, Auri made a cage for the tiny skunk with both her hands against her chest. With no hands left to hold her lamp, Auri trusted to the moonlight as she scurried up Old Ironways. It squirmed and scratched at her chest, fighting to be free, biting her a second time on the tip-pad of her smallest finger.\n\nBut by then she'd reached the nearest grate. She lifted up her hand and nudged the poor lost thing outside. Out of the Underthing and back toward its proper nighttime place of mothers, bins, and cobblestones.\n\nAuri made her way back to the bottom of The Silver Twelve and ducked her throbbing hand into the pool. It stung quite badly, but truthfully, it washer feelings that were worst hurt. It had been a mortal age since anything had been so rude to her.\n\nHer name hung dark and heavy in her chest as Auri dragged her dress on over her head. It didn't fit her properly today. It felt like everything was leering at her in the yellow light. Her hair was dreadful." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Auri walked back to Mantle, taking the long way around to avoid Van so she wouldn't have to see herself in her mirror. Coming into Port, she saw that nearly everything was wrong. Of course. It was just that sort of day.\n\nShe set the lamp on the table harder than she needed to, making the flame jump high. Then she did her best to set the place to rights. Hollybottle close beside the folded secrets of the all uncut octavo book? No. By itself on the farthest edge of secondshelf. The resin wanted its own space. The brimful jar of dark blue laurel fruit moved back onto the corner table. The tiny stone figurine perched high upon the wine rack, as if it were so much better than the rest of them.\n\nThe only thing that kept its place washer new-won perfect piece of honeycomb. She almost took a bite of it for no good reason other than to brighten up her day. She might have too, selfish as that would be. But she couldn't bear the thought of touching it, given the state that she was in.\n\nWhen things were squared away as well as she could manage, Auri took the lamp and stepped through, into Mantle. Her cedar box was in a state of minor disarray, and there were broken matches strewn about, but both of those were quickly mended. The brazen gear was fine. Her perfect leaf. Her box of stone. Herring of autumn gold. Her grey glass bottle filled with lavender. All fine. She felt herself relax a bit.\n\nThen she saw her blanket. Her perfect blanket she had made herself in only the most proper way. It had twisted and the corner lay all naked on the floor.\n\nAuri merely stood therefor along moment. She thought that she might cry, but when she felt around inside herself she found she had no crying left. She was full of broken glass and burrs. She was weary and disappointed with all of everything. And her hand hurt." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But there was no crying left in her. So instead she gathered up her blanket and carried it to Billows. After searching out a clean brass pipe, she hung it like a curtain in the center of the tunnel, let the endless wind brush past, and watched it wicker gently back and forth. It billowed and luffed, but that was all.\n\nAuri frowned and moved to pull the blanket down again. But she was careless, and a puff of wind blew out her lamp. Re-lighting it cost her another precious match.\n\nOnce Billows was full of flickerlight again, Auri tugged the blanket down, turned it over, and hung it on the pipe again. But no. Frontways or backways, it didn't make a lick of difference.\n\nNext she climbed Old Ironways and found the grate that loved the moon the most. Her pale light feathered down like snowdrops, like a silver spear. Auri spread the blanket out to catch the moon, to bask in it.\n\nIt didn't help.\n\nShe carried the blanket backward through the whole of Winnoway. She took it to the top of Draughting, threw it off, and watched it plummet through the maze of wires until it snagged one near the bottom and hung there, bobbing gently up and down. She carried it back to Mantle and wrapped it round the horrid, galling, stubborn brazen gear that stood there gloating and golden in the flickerling light.\n\nNone of it did a bit of good.\n\nUnable to think of anywhere else that might help ease the offense, Auri carried the blanket all the way down to Wains and into her new perfect sitting room. She draped it over the back of the couch. She folded it and set it in the chair." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Finally, in true desperation, Auri set her jaw and spread her blanket flat across the lush red rug in the center of the room. She smoothed it with both hands, careful not to let it touch the stone of the floor. It overlapped the rug almost perfectly. And fora second she felt hope rise in her chest that-\n\nBut no. It didn't fix things at all. She knew it then. She'd known all along, really. Nothing was going to make the blanket right again.\n\nScowling, Auri snatched the blanket up, wadded the ungrateful thing into a ball, and headed up the unnamed stair. She felt flat and scraped as an old hide. Dry as paper written on both sides. Even the playful teasing of the new stone stair could stir no breath of joy in her.\n\nShe climbed over the debris, through the broken wall, and into Tumbrel. The room looked different in the yellow flickerling. Full of looming fear and disappointment.\n\nAnd when her eyes passed over the vanity, she saw it differently. It was not rakish now. In the shifting light she saw it had a sinister bent, and caught a glimpse of what was turning it from true. She could feel the tattered edges of its disarray.\n\nBut tanglehaired and sticky, all unwashed and hollow as she was, she was hardly in the proper state for mending. She was in no mood to tend to the ungrateful thing.\n\nInstead Auri knelt before the wardrobe and set the spirit lamp beside her. Her knees were chilly on the stone floor as she pulled open the drawer and looked down at the creamy folded sheets inside.\n\nAuri closed her eyes. She took along, stiff breath and sighed it out again." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Eyes still closed, she stuffed the blanket hard into the drawer. Then she lay her hand upon the topmost sheet. Yes. This was fair. Even blind she could sense the sweetness of it. Her fingers trailed across the creamy surface....\n\nShe heard a tiny frizzling noise and caught the scent of burning hair.\n\nAuri sprang back, scrabbling madly backward on all fours, away from the vicious spitting yellow flame. Catching hold of her hair, it was cold comfort to see only a few stray strands were charred. Auri stomped back to the wardrobe, snatched her blanket up, and slammed the drawer, too furious to even think of being properly polite.\n\nThen, climbing through the broken wall, Auri stubbed her toes against a jutting block of stone. She didn't drop her lamp, but it was a near thing. Instead she merely cried in pain, staggering to catch her balance.\n\nAuri sat down hard upon the floor, clutching her foot. It was only then she realized she'd dropped her blanket. It was laying on the naked stone beside her. She grit her teeth so hard she feared that they would break.\n\nAfter along moment she gathered up her things, trudged back to Port, and stuffed the blanket angrily into the wine rack. Since that's where it belonged now. Since that's the way things had to be.\n\nAuri spent along time sitting in her thinking chair, glaring at the brazen gear. It was all glimmer and warm honey in the yellow light. She glared at it all the same. As if it were to blame. As if it were the one that made a mess of everything.\n\nEventually her sulk burned out. Eventually she calmed enough to realize the truth." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "You couldn't fight the tide or change the wind. And if there was a storm? Well, a girl should batten down and bail, not run the rigging. How could she help but make a mess of things, the state that she was in?\n\nShe'd strayed from the true way of things. First you set yourself to rights. And then your house. And then your corner of the sky. And after that...\n\nWell, then she didn't rightly know what happened next. But she hoped that after that the world would start to run itself a bit, like a gear-watch proper fit and kissed with oil. That was what she hoped would happen. Because honestly, there were days she felt rubbed raw. She was so tired of being all herself. The only one that tended to the proper turning of the world.\n\nStill, it was sulk or sail. So Auri stood and rinsed her face and hands and feet. There was no soap, of course. It was no kind of proper wash. It didn't make her feel even a little better. But what else could she do?\n\nShe brought the lamp to her lips and puffed out the yellow tongue of flame. Darkness flooded into fill the room, and Auri climbed into her narrow, naked bed.\n\nAuri lay in the dark fora long while. She was tired and tangled and hungry and hollow. She was weary in her heart and head. But even so, sleep would not come.\n\nShe thought it was the loneliness at first. Or the chill that kept her gritty-eyed and shifty. Perhaps it was the dull ache of her twice-bit hand....\n\nBut no. Those were no less than she deserved. They were not enough to keep her all wide eyed at night. She'd learned to sleep with worse than that. Back in the times before he'd come. Back in the years before she had her sweet new perfect name." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "No. She knew what the problem was. She slid out of her bed and brought out one of her few matches. It struck on the first try, and Auri smiled white in the red light of its sulfurious flaring.\n\nShe lit the spirit lamp and carried it to Port. Guiltily, she removed her blanket from the wine rack where she'd stuffed it. She smoothed it gently out across the table, murmuring an apology. And she was sorry. She knew better. Cruelty never helped the turning of the world.\n\nShe folded the blanket carefully then, her hands gentle. She matched the corners and kept it square and true. Then she found the proper place for it upon the bookshelf, and brought the smooth grey stone so that it wouldn't want for company. It would be cold at night, and she would miss it. But it was happy there. Didn't it deserve to be happy? Didn't everything deserve its proper place?\n\nStill, she cried a bit as she tucked the blanket in, settling it on the shelf.\n\nAuri made her way back into Mantle and sat on her bed. Then she went back to Port to make sure her crying hadn't skewed things all about. But no. She brushed the blanket with her hands, comforting. It was as it should be. It was happy.\n\nBack in Mantle, Auri moved about the bare room, making sure everything was as it should be. Her thinking chair was just so. Her cedar box was flush against the wall. Foxen's dish and dropper jar were resting on the bedshelf. The brazen gear satin its niche, indifferent to the world.\n\nThe fireplace was empty: clean and trim. Her bedside table held her tiny silver cup. Above the fireplace on the mantelpiece sat her perfect yellow leaf. Her small strongbox of stone. Her grey glass jar with kind, dried lavender inside. Herring of sweet, warm autumn gold." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Auri touched each of these, making sure of them. They were everything they ought to be and nothing else. They were fine as fine.\n\nDespite all of this, she felt unsettled. Here, in her most perfect place.\n\nAuri hurried down to Borough, brought back a broom, and set to sweeping Mantle's floor.\n\nIt took an hour. Not because of any mess. But Auri swept slowly and carefully. And there was quite a lot of floor. She didn't often think of it, as Mantle hardly needed tending anymore. But it was a big place.\n\nIt washers, and the place loved her, and she fit here like a pea in her own perfect pod. But even so, there was a lot of empty floor.\n\nThe floor all fresh, Auri returned the broom. On her way back she wandered through Port to check on the blanket. It seemed to be doing well, but she brought the hollybottle over to keep it company too, just in case. It was a terrible thing to be lonely.\n\nShe stepped back into Mantle again and set the spirit lamp on her table. She took her three remaining matches out of her pocket and put them on the table too.\n\nAs she sat on the edge of her bed, Auri realized what was out of place. She was herself in disarray. She'd seen something in Tumbrel and not tended to it. Auri thought of the three-mirrored vanity and a tickling finger of guilt ran itself along the edge of her heart.\n\nEven so. She was tired down in her bones now. Weary and hurt. Perhaps just this once...\n\nAuri frowned and shook her head furiously. She was a wicked thing sometimes. All full of want. As if the shape of the world depended on her mood. As if she were important." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "So she stood and made her slow way back to Tumbrel. Down Crumbledon. Through Wains. Through circle-perfect Annulet and up the unnamed stair.\n\nAfter climbing through the broken wall, Auri looked hard at the vanity in the flickering light. As she did, she could feel her heart rise slightly in her chest. The shifting light against three mirrors, it made countless shadows dance across the bottles there.\n\nStepping closer, Auri watched carefully. She would never have seen this properly without the shifting nature of the yellow light. She stepped left, then right, looking at things from both sides. She tilted her head. She went to her knees so that her eyes were level with the surface of the vanity. A sudden, sunny smile spilled all across her face.\n\nBack straight, Auri sat on the edge of the chair in front of the vanity. She tried not to look in the mirrors, knowing how she must appear. An unwashed, red-eyed, tangled mess. Too thin. Too pale. She was no kind of lady. She opened the two drawers instead and stared into them fora moment, letting the yellow light and shadows slide around inside.\n\nAfter several minutes, Auri nodded to herself. She removed the pair of gloves from the right-hand drawer and set them near the mirror by a pot of rouge. Then Auri pulled the right-hand drawer completely free and switched it with its partner on the left. She sat therefor along moment, moving the two drawers back and forth in their new tracks, a look of intent concentration on her face.\n\nEverything atop was disarray, bottles and baubles strewn about. Despite that, nearly everything was just the way it ought to be. The only exception was the hairbrush, which Auri tucked into the left-hand drawer by the handkerchiefs, and a small golden brooch with two birds in flight, which she hid beneath a folded fan." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After that, the only thing out of place was a delicate bluebottle with a twisted silver stopper. Like many of the other bottles, it was laying on its side. Auri set it upright, but that wasn't right. She tried to tuck it in a drawer, but it didn't fit there, either.\n\nShe picked it up, listening to the liquid tinkling inside. She looked around the room uncertainly. She opened the vanity's drawers again, then slid them closed again. There didn't seem to be a place for it.\n\nShe shook the bottle idly in her hand and tapped it with her fingernail. The pale blue glass was delicate as eggshell, but dusty. She gave the bottle a good polishing, hoping it might be a little more forthcoming.\n\nWhen it was clean it gleamed like the heart of some forgotten icy god. Turning it over in her hands, she saw tiny letters etched across the bottom of the glass. They read: For My Intoxicating Esther.\n\nAuri put her hand across her mouth, but a muffled giggle still escaped. Moving slowly, her expression thick with disbelief, she unscrewed the stopper and took a sniff. She laughed openly then, hugely, from deep in her belly. She laughed so hard she could barely screw the top back on. She was still chuckling a minute later as she tucked the bottle deep into her pocket.\n\nShe was still smiling when she made her careful way down the unnamed stair and put the bottle carefully away in Port. It liked the bookshelf best, and that was doubly good, as there it would keep both hollybottle and the blanket company.\n\nAuri was still smiling when she climbed into her tiny perfect bed. And yes, it was cold, and lonely too. But that could not be helped. She knew better than anyone, it was worth doing things the proper way." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "WHEN AURI WOKE on the fifth day, Foxen was quite recovered from his mood.\n\nThat was for the best. She had a busy lot of work to do.\n\nLaying in the dark, she wondered what the day would bring. Some days were trumpet-proud. They heralded like thunder. Some were courteous, careful as a lettered card upon a silver plate.\n\nBut some days were shy. They did not name themselves. They waited fora careful girl to find them.\n\nThis was such a day. A day too shy to knock upon her door. Was it a calling day? A sending day? A making day? Amending day?\n\nShe could not tell. As soon as Foxen was sufficiently unslumberous, Auri went to Taps and fetched freshwater for her basin. Then back in Mantle she rinsed her face and hands and feet.\n\nThere was no soap, of course. That was the very first of things that she would set to rights today. She was not vain enough to work her will against the world. But she could use the things the world had given her. Enough for soap. That was allowed. That was within her rights.\n\nFirst she lither spirit lamp. With Foxen's sweet cerulean to soften it, the yellow flame helped warm the room without filling it with frantic shadows clawing at the walls, all jerk and judder.\n\nAuri opened up the flue and set a careful fire with her newfound tangle-wood. So fine and dry. All ash and elm and spry hawthorn. She soon set it crackling to life.\n\nShe eyed it fora moment, then turned away. It would be burning for sometime. It was just as Master Mandrag always said: nine tenths of chemistry was waiting." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But she had work enough to fill the time. First she ventured down to Tree. She fetched the small copper kettle and her cracked clay cup. She pocketed the empty linen sack. She eyed the butter in the well, then frowned at it and shook her head, knowing better than to borrow trouble with the knives it held.\n\nShe lifted out the hard white lump of suet instead, sniffed it curiously and grinned. Then she gathered up the tiny tripod all of iron. She took her sack of salt.\n\nShe was just about to leave when she paused and eyed the silver bowl of nutmeg seeds. So strange and rare. So full of faraway. She picked one up and ran her fingertips along its tippled skin. She brought it to her face and breathed in deep. Musk and thistle. A smell like a bordello curtain, deep and red and full of mysteries.\n\nStill uncertain, Auri closed her eyes and bent her head. The pink tip of her tongue flicked shyly out to touch the strange brown pittem. She stood there, still as still. Then, eyes closed, she brushed the smooth side of it soft across her lips. It was a tender, thoughtful motion. It was nothing like a kiss.\n\nAfter along moment, Auri's mouth spread into a wide, delighted smile. Her eyes went wide as lamps. Yes. Yes yes. It was the very thing.\n\nThe leaf-etched silver bowl was heavy, so Auri made a special trip and carried it two-handed back to Mantle. Next she fetched the large stone mortar where it hunkered down all lurksome in Darkhouse. She went to Clinks and brought two bottles back. She searched the floor of Tenners till she found a scattering of dry pine needles. She brought these back to Mantle too and placed them at the bottom of the cracked clay cup." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "By then the fire had faded into ashes. She swept them up. She placed them in the cracked clay cup and packed them tight.\n\nShe went to rinse her sooty hands. She rinsed her face and feet.\n\nAuri set another fire and kindled it. She put the suet in the kettle. She hung the kettle by the fire to melt. She added salt. She grinned.\n\nShe went down to Tree again and brought back the acorns she had gathered and a wide, flat pan. She shelled the nuts and toasted them, jiggling them about in the pan. She sprinkled them with salt and ate them each by each. Some were bitter. Some were sweet. Some were hardly anything. That was just the way of things.\n\nAfter she'd eaten them all, she eyed the suet and saw it wasn't finished. Not by half. So one by one she cracked the nutmeg seeds. She ground them in the old stone mortar. She ground them fine as dust and poured the dust into ajar. Crack and grind. Crack and grind. The mortar was a grim thing, thuggish and terse. But after two days without a proper wash, Auri found it perfect suited to her mood.\n\nWhen she was finished grinding, Auri pulled the copper pot of melted suet off the fire. She stirred. She sieved the dottle off till there was nothing left but hot, sharp tallow. She set the copper pot aside to cool. She went to fetch freshwater from the proper copper pipe in Pickering. She filled the spirit lamp from a bright steel tap tucked tidily away in Borough.\n\nWhen she returned, the fire had died again. She swept the ashes up and pressed them down into the cracked clay cup.\n\nShe rinsed her sooty hands. She rinsed her face and feet." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She lit the fire a third and final time, then Auri went to Port and eyed her shelves. She brought the bottle of Esther's and set it near the fireplace with her tools. She brought the hollycloth.\n\nNext she carried in the jar of dark blue laurel fruit. But much to her chagrin, it wouldn't fit. No matter how she tried, the jar of laurel simply wouldn't let itself be settled with her tools. Not even when she offered it the mantleplace.\n\nAuri felt unfairly vexed. The laurel would have been ideal. She'd thought of it as soon as she'd awoke and thought of soap. It would have fit like hand into a hand. She'd planned to mingle...\n\nBut no. There was no place for it. That much was clear. The stubborn thing would simply not be reasoned with.\n\nIt exasperated her, but she knew better than to force the world to bend to her desire. Her name was like an echo of an ache in her. She was unwashed and tangled-haired. It would be nothing but pure folly. She sighed and brought the jar of dark blue fruit back to its shelf in Port where it sat: self-centered and content.\n\nThen Auri sat upon the warm, smooth stones of Mantle. She sat before the fireplace, her makeshift tools laid out around her.\n\nThe ashes in the cracked clay cup were just as they should be. Fine and soft. Oak would have made them too intractable. Birch was bitter. But this, this was a perfect mix. Ash and elm and hawthorn. They made a medley without melding or meddling. The ash was proud but not unseemly. The elm was graceful but not inappropriately apetalous, especially for her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And the hawthorn... well. Auri blushed a bit at that. Suffice to say that apetalous or no, she was still a healthy young lady, and there was such a thing as too much decorum.\n\nNext she brought out the bottle of Esther's. They were terribly coy, full of stolen moments and the scent of selas flower. Perfect. Thieving was precisely what she needed here.\n\nThe nutmeg was foreign, and something of a stranger. It was brimful of sea foam. A lovely addition. Essential. They were cipher and a mystery. But that was not particularly troublesome to her. She understood some secrets must be kept.\n\nShe peered into the cooling pot and saw the tallow starting to congeal. It hugged the kettle's edge, making a slender crescent like the moon. She grinned. Of course. She had found it underneath the moon. It would follow the moon, waxing full.\n\nBut looking closer, Auri's smile faded. The suet was clean and strong, but there were no apples in it anymore. Now it was brimming full of age and anger. It was a thunderstorm of rage.\n\nThat wouldn't do at all. She could hardly lave herself with rage day after day. And with no laurel to keep it at bay... Well, she would simply have to draw the anger out. If not, her soap was worse than ruined.\n\nAuri went back into Port and looked around. It was a fairly simple choice. She lifted up the honeycomb and took a single bite. She closed her eyes and felt herself go all gooseprickle from the sweetness of it. She could not help but giggle as she licked it off her lips, almost dizzy from the work of bees inside her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After she had sucked all of the sweetness from it, Auri delicately spat the lump of beeswax out into her palm. She rolled it in her hands until it made a soft, round bead.\n\nShe gathered up the tallow pot and made her way to Umbrel. The moon was motherly here, peering kindly through the grate. The gentle light feathered slantways down to kiss the stone floor of the Underthing. Auri sat beside the circle of silver light and gently set the kettle in the center of it.\n\nThe cooling tallow now formed a thin white ring around the inside of the copper kettle. Auri nodded to herself. Three circles. Perfect for asking. It was better to be gentle and polite. It was the worst sort of selfishness to force yourself upon the world.\n\nAuri tied the bead of beeswax to a thread and dipped it in the center of the still hot tallow. After several moments, she relaxed to see it working like a charm. She felt the rage congealing, gathering around the wax, heading to it like a bear on hunt for honey.\n\nBy the time the circle of moonlight had left the copper pot behind, every bit of anger had been leached out of the tallow. As neat a factoring as ever hand of man had managed.\n\nThen Auri took the kettle off to Tree and set it in the moving water of the chill well. Cricket-quick the tallow cooled to form a flat white disk two fingers thick.\n\nAuri carefully lifted the disk of tallow off the surface and poured the golden water underneath away, noting idly that it held a hint of sleep and all the apples too. That was a pity. But it could not be helped, such was the way of things sometimes." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The bead of wax was seething." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Now that the anger had been factored free, Auri realized it was much fiercer stuff than she had thought. It was fury, thunderous with untimely death. It was a mother's rage for cubs now left alone.\n\nAuri was glad the bead already dangled from a thread. She would be loath to touch it with her hands.\n\nSlow and quiet, Auri tucked the bead into a thick glass jar and sealed it with a tight, tight lid. This she carried off to Boundary. Oh so careful she carried it. Oh so careful she placed it on a high stone shelf. Behind the glass. It would be safest there.\n\nIn Mantle, Auri's third and final fire had fallen into ash. She swept it up again. These ashes filled the cracked clay cup to brimming.\n\nShe rinsed her sooty hands. She rinsed her face and feet.\n\nAll was ready. Auri grinned and sat down on the warm stone floor with all her tools arrayed around her. On the outside she was all composed, but inside she was fairly dancing at the thought of her new soap.\n\nShe set the kettle on the iron tripod. Underneath she slid the spirit lamp so that the hot, bright flame could kiss the copper bottom of the kettle.\n\nFirst there washer perfect disk of clean white tallow. It was strong and sharp and lovely as the moon. Part of her, some wicked, restless piece, wanted to break the disk to bits so it would melt the faster. So she could have her soap the sooner. So she could wash herself and brush her hair and finally set herself to rights after so long....\n\nBut no. She set the tallow gently in the kettle, careful not to give offense. She left it in its pure and perfect circle. Patience and propriety. It was the only graceful thing to do." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Take the role of the writer's aide, proceed with the narrative.\nTags: fantasy, character study, novella\nAuthor: Patrick Rothfuss\nTitle: The Slow Regard of Silent Things\nChapter: 11" }, { "from": "human", "value": "The bead of wax was seething." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Now that the anger had been factored free, Auri realized it was much fiercer stuff than she had thought. It was fury, thunderous with untimely death. It was a mother's rage for cubs now left alone.\n\nAuri was glad the bead already dangled from a thread. She would be loath to touch it with her hands.\n\nSlow and quiet, Auri tucked the bead into a thick glass jar and sealed it with a tight, tight lid. This she carried off to Boundary. Oh so careful she carried it. Oh so careful she placed it on a high stone shelf. Behind the glass. It would be safest there.\n\nIn Mantle, Auri's third and final fire had fallen into ash. She swept it up again. These ashes filled the cracked clay cup to brimming.\n\nShe rinsed her sooty hands. She rinsed her face and feet.\n\nAll was ready. Auri grinned and sat down on the warm stone floor with all her tools arrayed around her. On the outside she was all composed, but inside she was fairly dancing at the thought of her new soap.\n\nShe set the kettle on the iron tripod. Underneath she slid the spirit lamp so that the hot, bright flame could kiss the copper bottom of the kettle.\n\nFirst there washer perfect disk of clean white tallow. It was strong and sharp and lovely as the moon. Part of her, some wicked, restless piece, wanted to break the disk to bits so it would melt the faster. So she could have her soap the sooner. So she could wash herself and brush her hair and finally set herself to rights after so long....\n\nBut no. She set the tallow gently in the kettle, careful not to give offense. She left it in its pure and perfect circle. Patience and propriety. It was the only graceful thing to do." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Next came the ashes. She set the cracked clay cup atop a squat glass jar. She poured the clear, clean water over them. It filtered through the ash and drip, tick, trickled through the crack in the cup's bottom. It was the smoky red of blood and mud and honey.\n\nWhen the final drips had fallen, Auri held the jar of cinderwash aloft and saw it was as fine as any she had ever made. It was a sunset dusky red. Stately and graceful, it was a changing thing. But underneath it all, the liquid held a blush of wantonness. It held all the proper things the wood had brought and many caustic lies besides.\n\nIn someways this would be enough. The tallow and the cinderwash would make a serviceable soap. But there would be no apples in it. Nothing sweet or kind. It would be hard and chill as chalk. It would resemble bathing with an indifferent brick.\n\nSo yes, in someways, these would be enough for soap. But how awful would that be? How terrible to live surrounded by the stark, sharp, hollowness of things that simply were enough?\n\nSitting on the warm, smooth floor of Mantle, Auri shivered at the thought of moving through a joyless world like that. Nothing perfect. Nothing beautiful and true. Oh no. She was too wise to live that way. Auri looked around and smiled at all her luxury. She had a perfect loving leaf and lavender. She wore her favorite dress. Her name was Auri, and it was a shining piece of gold inside her all the time.\n\nSo she twisted off the silver stopper from the ice-blue jar, and poured the perfume in among the well-ground nutmeg powder. The smell of selas flower filled the room, so sweet and light against the prickle sting of nutmeg." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Auri smiled and stirred the two together with a kindling stick, then poured the thick, wet, pulpy mass into the linen sack she'd set inside a wide-mouthed jar. She used two sticks to twist the ends of the sack, and her makeshift wringer squeezed the fabric tight until it oozed a thick, dark oily liquid that spattered down into the jar. It was barely a slow trickle. Just a spoonful of the liquid. Two spoonfuls. Three.\n\nShe turned the sticks, her mouth a line of concentration. The linen twisted tighter. The dark liquid welled up, gathered, dripped. Dripped again.\n\nDespite herself, Auri wished she had a proper press. It was so wasteful otherwise. She strained against the sticks, shifting her grip and giving them another half a turn. She grit her teeth, her knuckles going white. Another drip. Three more. Ten.\n\nAuri's arms began to tremble, and despite herself she glanced toward the iron-bound door that led to Boundary.\n\nShe looked away. She was a wicked thing, but she was not so bad as that. Idle wishing was mere fancy. It was another thing entirely to bend the world toward her own desires.\n\nFinally her shaking arms could bear no more. She sighed, relaxed, and pulled the sticks free, upending the linen sack into a shallow pan. No longer a dark, pulpy mass, the nutmeg pomace now looked pale and crumbly.\n\nAuri lifted up the glass and eyed the viscous liquid, clear as amber. It was lovely, lovely, lovely. It was like nothing that she'd ever seen before. It was thick with secrets and sea foam. It was prickle-rich with mystery. It was full of musk and whispers and tetradecanoic acid." }, { "from": "human", "value": "It was so fine a thing she dearly wished for more of it." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The jar hardly held a palmful. She glanced over at the pan and thought of squeezing out the pomace with her hands to gather up a few more precious drops....\n\nBut reaching out, Auri found that she was oddly loathe to touch the gritty mass with her own naked skin. She paused and tipped her head to look more closely at the pale, grey, crumbling pomace and her stomach pulled into a knot at what she saw.\n\nIt was full of screaming. Days of endless dark red screaming. It had been hidden by the mysteries before, but now the selas-sweet had stolen those away, and Auri saw the screaming clear as day.\n\nAuri lifted up the jar and eyed the amber byne. But no. It was just as she had seen before. There was no screaming hidden there among the mysteries and musk. It was still a perfect thing.\n\nAuri drew along and shaky breath at that. And setting down the jar, she gently lay the linen sack and both her twisting sticks inside the shallow tin pan beside the horrid pomace. She handled them as little as she could, with nothing but her fingertips, as if they had been poisoned.\n\nShe did not want it near her. No bit of it. She knew already. She knew of red. She'd had enough of screaming.\n\nSweating slightly, Auri lifted up the pan with both her hands and turned to face the doorway. Then she stopped before she took a single step toward well-ordered Port. She could not keep this there. Who knew what chaos it would bring? Screaming was no kind of kindly neighbor.\n\nAuri turned toward the hallway then. She took a step, then stopped, not knowing where she'd go. To Billows where the wind would carry screaming all throughout the Underthing? To Tree where it would smolder like a coal, so near her pots and pans and precious peas...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But no. No no.\n\nSo Auri turned a final time. She turned to face the third way out of Mantle. She turned toward the iron-bound door and brought the linen bag to Boundary.\n\nReturning, Auri rinsed her face. She rinsed her hands and feet.\n\nShe took one step toward the tripod and the copper pot, then stopped. She went back to her basin. She rinsed her face. She rinsed her hands and feet.\n\nMore than anything she wanted soap. To sit and finish what she had begun. She was so close. But first she stepped off hurriedly to Port to make herself quite sure of things. She smoothed the blanket with both hands. She touched the flat grey stone. She moved the hollybottle back where it belonged. She touched the leather book, then opened up the cover to make sure certain its pages were still all uncut. They were. But glancing back toward the shelf she saw the stone had gone all out of joint. She tried to slide it back to proper true but couldn't seethe shape of it and couldn't tell the way of things and if it was a place where it was right. The honey too. She wanted honey but she mustn't....\n\nShe rubbed her eyes. Then forced herself to stop and look down at her hands. She hurried back to Mantle. She rinsed her face. She rinsed her hands and feet.\n\nShe felt the panic rising in her then. She knew. She knew how quickly things could break. You did the things you could. You tended to the world for the world's sake. You hoped you would be safe. But still she knew. It could come crashing down and there was nothing you could do. And yes. She knew she wasn't right. She knew her everything was canted wrong. She knew her head was all unkilter. She knew she wasn't true inside. She knew." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her breath was coming harder now. Her heart a hammer in her chest. The light was brighter and she heard the sound of things that normally she couldn't hear. A keening of the world all out of place. A howl of everything all turned from true....\n\nAuri looked around the room, all startle sweat and fear. She was tangle and cut-string. Even here. She could see traces. Mantle was all eggshell. Even her most perfect place. Her bed was almost not her bed. Her perfect leaf so frail. Her box of stone so faraway. Her lavender no help at all and growing pale....\n\nShe looked down at her shaking hands. Was she all full of screaming now? Again? No. No no. It wasn't her. Not just. It was all everything. All everything unravelding and thin and tatter. She could not even stand. The light was jagged, scraping like a knife against her teeth. And underneath it was the hollow dark. The nameless empty everything was clawing at the fraying edges of the walls. Even Foxen wasn't even nearly. The stones were strange. The air. She went looking for her name and couldn't even find it flickering. She was just hollow in. Everything was. Everything was everything. Everything was everything else. Even herein her most perfect place. She needed. Please she needed please....\n\nBut there. Against the wall she saw the brazen gear was all unchanged. It was too full of love. Nothing could shift it. Nothing could turn it from itself. When all the world was palimpsest, it was a perfect palindrome. Inviolate.\n\nIt was all the way across the room. So far she feared she could not reach it. Not with the stones below her gone so rough. Not hollow as she was. But when she moved a bit she saw it was not hard at all. It was downhill. The proud, bright brazen gear was true enough, it pressed down hard against the thin frayed tatter world and made a dent." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then she was touching it. It was so smooth and warm along its face. And all asweat breathless desperate Auri pressed her forehead up against its cool. She took hold of it with both her hands. The sharpness of its edges on her palms was like a calming knife. She clung to it at first, like someone in a shipwreck grips the stone of shore. But all the world around her was still storm. All tumbledown. All crumble pale and ache. And so, with shaking arms she strained against it. She pulled to turn the gear upon its narrow ledge of rock. She spun it widdershins. The breaking way.\n\nIt tipped from tooth to tooth. She spun the brazen gear and only then did Auri understand the fearsome weight of it. It was a fulcrum thing. It was a pin. A pivot. It shifted, tilted, but truthfully it only seemed to turn. In truth, it stayed. It staid. In truth the whole world spun.\n\nOne final weighty tip and now the space left by the missing tooth was turned straight down. And as the edges of the gear grit hard into the stone Auri felt the whole world jar around her. It ticked. Clicked. Fit. Fixed. Trembling, she looked around and saw that everything was fine. Her bed was just her bed. All of everything in Mantle: fine. Nothing was nothing else. Nothing was anything it shouldn't be.\n\nAuri sat down hard upon the floor. So sudden-full of sweet relief she gasped. She laughed and gathered up the gear and held it to her chest. She kissed it. She closed her eyes and wept." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "SETTING FULCRUM BACK upon his narrow ledge, Auri wiped her smudgy tears away from his sweet brazen face. Then she walked over to the kettle and was pleased to seethe tallow was all melted. It smelled of hot, of hearth, of earth, of breath. She bent and puffed the yellow flame away.\n\nThen to her basin. Auri rinsed her face. She rinsed her hands and feet.\n\nShe sat herself beside the kettle on the warm stone floor. Soon now. Close. She grinned, and for the space of one long breath she almost didn't mind how tangle-haired and smudged she had become.\n\nAuri stirred the tallow with a slender stick. She drew a calming breath. She took the jar of cinderwash and poured it slowly in among the tallow. The mix went cloudy all at once, white tinged with just a hint of pink. She grinned her proudest grin and stirred and stirred again.\n\nShe gathered up the amber byne, all prickling quick and petal kind. She poured it in the kettle too, and all the room was filled with musk and mystery and bear. She stirred and selas filled the air.\n\nHer face intent, once more she stirred. Once more. She felt the mix grow thick. She stopped and set aside the slender stick.\n\nShe took a breath and let it out. She went and rinsed her face and hands and feet. Two by two, she gathered up her tools and took them back where they belonged. Back to Tree and Port and Clinks she carried bottles, lamps, and pans.\n\nWhen all of this was done, Auri took the now-cool copper pot and carried it to Port. She tipped the kettle, reached inside, and lifted out a smooth, curved dome of pale, sweet soap." }, { "from": "human", "value": "She used the flat edge of the petal plate to slice the dome of soap." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She cut it into cakes, each one a different size, a different shape. Each to each, and all to her desire. It felt wicked and delicious, but given that the soap washers, this tiny willfulness could do no harm.\n\nShe indulged herself from time to time. It helped remind her she was truly free.\n\nAs she worked, Auri saw the soap was not true white. It was the palest pink, the color of fresh cream with just a single drop of blood. Auri lifted up a cake, and moving oh so careful, she brought it to her face and touched it lightly with her tongue.\n\nShe grinned at its perfection. It was kissing soap. Soft but firm. Mysterious but sweet. There was nothing like it in all Temerant. Nothing below the earth or underneath the sky.\n\nAuri couldn't wait a moment more. She skipped off to her basin. She washed her face and hands and feet. She laughed. She laughed so sweet and loud and long it sounded like a bell, a harp, a song.\n\nShe went to Clinks. She washed herself. She brushed her hair. She laughed and leapt.\n\nShe hurried home. She went to bed. And all alone, she smiled and slept." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "THE SIXTH DAY Auri woke, her name unfurling like a flower in her heart.\n\nFoxen felt it too and fairly burst with light when she first wetted him. It was a waxing day. A day for making.\n\nShe laughed at that before she even left her bed. The day had come too late, but she could hardly care. Her soap was sweet as any ever was. Besides, there was a dignity to doing things in your own time.\n\nBut that thought sobered her somewhat. His visit would not wait. He would be here, soon. Tomorrow. And she still had nothing good enough to share. She had no perfect gift to give.\n\nThere were three ways out of Mantle.... But no.\n\nShe washed her face and hands and feet. She brushed her hair until it was a golden cloud. She took a drink and donned her favorite dress. She didn't dally. Today was going to be a busy day.\n\nFirst came the disposition of her new and perfect soap. She had made seven cakes. One was by her basin, safe in Mantle. One she'd washed with yesterday in Clinks. The largest four she carried off to Bakery to cure. The smallest, sweetest one she tucked into the bottom of her cedar box so she would never have to go without again. That was a lesson firmly learned. Oh yes.\n\nShe paused, one hand inside her cedar box. Would he like a cake of kissing soap? It was quite fine. He never would have seen its like before....\n\nBut no. She flushed before she'd even finished thinking it. It would be altogether too improper. Besides, it was not right for him. The mysteries might fit, but he had much of oak about him. Willow too, and he was absolutely not a selas sort." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She shut the lid of her sweet cedar box, but getting to her feet, Auri felt the room go bright and tip around her. Staggering, she took two steps and sat down on the bed before she fell. She felt the fear rise up in her. Her eyes darted round the room, all startlement. Was this...?\n\nNo. This was a simpler thing, her stomach was an empty drum again. She had forgotten to tend herself.\n\nSo when her head stopped spinning, it was off to Tree. But on a whim, for company, she brought along brash Fulcrum. He had seen so little of the Underthing. And heavy as he was, it really was the least that she could do for all his help.\n\nPans were nearly all the fruit that Tree could offer up. But only nearly. She brought out a tinpot and filled it with freshwater. She lit the spirit lamp with her penultimate match. Then she climbed onto the counter and reached with both hands to fetch down her jar. The dried peas rolled inside, tinkling playfully against the glass.\n\nShe worked the baling top and poured peas into her tiny hand until they filled her cupped palm. Her hand was not that large. It was not so very many peas, but it was half of what she had. She tipped them into the pot where they plinked into the warming water. Then, after a moment's hesitation, Auri shrugged and poured the other half into the pot as well.\n\nShe set the empty bottle on the countertop and looked around. The burner's flickerlight and Foxen's green-blue glow both showed the bareness of the shelves. She sighed and put it from her mind. Today there would be soup. Tomorrow he would visit. And after that..." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Well, after that she would do her best. That was the only way. You did not want things for yourself. That made you small. That kept you safe. That meant you could move smoothly through the world without upsetting every applecart you came across. And if you were careful, if you were a proper part of things, then you could help. You mended what was cracked. You tended to the things you found askew. And you trusted that the world in turn would brush you up against the chance to eat. It was the only graceful way to move. All else was vanity and pride.\n\nCould she bring honeycomb to share with him tomorrow? It was the loveliest of things. He had too little sweetness in his life. That was the truth.\n\nShe thought on this while boiling bubbles danced her peas about the pot. Auri idly stroked brash Fulcrum's face, and after along while of musing she decided, yes, the honeycomb might work if nothing else presented.\n\nShe stirred the soup a bit and added salt. She wished the butter wasn't full of knives. A little fat in this would be a true delight. A little fat would suit it to a T.\n\nAfter her lovely soup, Auri headed back to Mantle. With Fulcrum keeping company she could hardly make her way through Vaults or Veneret. So she took the long way round and went byway of Pickering instead.\n\nBelly warm and with a guest besides, she took her time along the close-fit square stone tunnels. She was nearly back to Doubton, Fulcrum heavy in her arms, when she felt a gentle crickling underfoot and stopped.\n\nLooking down, she saw a scattering of leaves upon the floor. It didn't make a bit of sense to find them here. There was no wind in Pickering. No water here. She looked around, but couldn't see a speckle of bird dropping. She sniffed the air but didn't smell a bit of musk or piss." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But there was nothing threatening either. Nothing knotted up about the place. No skew or wrongness here. But not nothing neither. It was half a thing. A mystery.\n\nCurious, Auri set Fulcrum gently down upon the floor and lifted up the leaf. It looked familiar. She hunted round and found a handful of them scattered near an open doorway. She picked these up and when they wrangled up together in her hand she understood.\n\nExcited, she took Fulcrum back to Mantle. Before she left she kissed his face and set him comfortably to rights upon his stony ledge, gap down of course. Then she skipped to Port and lifted up the silver bowl. She held the crickling leaf she carried up against the twining leaves engraved around the edge. It was the same.\n\nShe shook her head, unsure of what they might portend. Still, there was only one way to tell. Taking up the silver bowl, Auri scurried back to Pickering, then through the doorway where she'd found the clustered leaves. Over a stone tumble. Around a fallen beam.\n\nShe did not know if she had ever been to this piece of Pickering before. But it was still simplicity itself to find her way. Here and there, a leaf or two would dot the floor like breadcrumbs.\n\nFinally she came to the bottom of a narrow shaft that led straight up. An ancient chimney from the days before? A tunnel for escape? A well?\n\nIt was narrow and steep, but Auri was a tiny thing. And even carrying the silver bowl she climbed it quickly as a squirrel. At the top she found a plank of wood, already partially askew. She pushed it easily aside and clambered out into abasement room." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The room was dusty and disused, full of shelves. Barrels stacked in corners. Shelves jammed full with bundles, kegs, and crates. In among the smell of dust she caught a whiff of street and sweat and grass. Looking round she saw a window high up in the wall, and on the floor below some broken glass.\n\nIt was a tidy place, save fora scattering of leaves blown down in some forgotten storm. There were sacks of corn and barley flour. Winter apples. Waxed packages stuffed tight with figs and dates.\n\nAuri walked around the room, her hands behind her back. She stepped lightly as a dancer on a drum. Kegs of molasses. Jars of strawberry preserve. Some squash had tumbled from their burlap bundle just beside the door. She shooed them back inside and pulled the drawstring tight.\n\nEventually she bent to look more closely at a lower shelf. A single leaf had come to rest atop a small clay crock. Moving carefully, she lifted up the leaf, removed the crock, and put the silver bowl down in its place. She lay the leaf back down inside the bowl.\n\nShe allowed herself a single longing look around the room, no more. Then Auri headed back the way she came. Only back in the familiar dark of Pickering did she draw an easy breath. Then eagerly she brushed the dust from her new treasure. If the picture was to be believed, the crock held olives. They were lovely.\n\nThe olives went to Tree. They looked a little lonely on their shelf. But lonely was along sight better than naught but empty echo, salt, and butter full of knives. Better by along road.\n\nNext she checked on things in Port. The ice-bluebottle wasn't entirely at home. It huddled on the lowest, leftest shelf upon the eastern wall. Auri touched it gently, doing her best to reassure. He liked bottles. Might this be a seemly gift?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She picked it up and turned it in her hands. But no. Not this bottle. Grave. Graven. Not named for someone else.\n\nMaybe some other bottle? That felt nearly right. Not quite, but nearly.\n\nShe thought about the vanity in Tumbrel. Yesterday it had seemed squared and true. But she was more than slightly tattered then. Not at her best. Perhaps there was a bottle mixed among the rest. Something wrong or lost or out of place.\n\nIf nothing else it was a place to start. So Auri gathered up the warm, sweet weight of Fulcrum in her arms. And because he hadn't seen them yet, she took the slightly longer way through Van and Forth and Lucient before she headed down to Wains.\n\nShe paused to rest in Annulet, her new and perfect circle of a sitting room. Fulcrum settled like a king upon the velvet chair while Auri lounged upon the fainting couch and let her arms recover from the oh sweet ache of holding him.\n\nBut she was too busy for long lounging. So Auri gathered up the heavy gear again and made her slow way up the unnamed stair, taking her time so Fulcrum could marvel at the odd and cunning coyness of the place. And, as the two of them were gentlefolk, they both ignored the bashful door that sat upon the landing.\n\nThen into Tumbrel. Climbing through the wall, Auri saw the room was just as she remembered. Not perfect true like Annulet. But nothing glaringly unskew. Nothing askant or lost or loudly wrong. Now that the vanity was squared away, Tumbrel seemed content to rumble down into along warm winter's sleep.\n\nEven so, she'd come all this way. So she opened up the wardrobe and peered inside. She touched the chamberpot. She looked into the closet too, nodding politely to the broom and bucket there." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Auri eyed the vanity. There were a few fine bottles there. One especially caught her eye. It was small and pale. Coruscant, like opal. Perfect with a cunning clasp. She didn't have to open it to see that there was breath inside. A precious thing.\n\nShe lifted Fulcrum higher and tried peering through the round hole in the very center of his oh so centeredness. She hoped to notice something she had missed before. Something loose or raveledy. Some thread that she could tug to jostle something free. But no. Whether she looked straight or slant, the vanity was well and truly set to rights.\n\nA bottle coruscant with hidden breath would be a princely gift. But no. Taking it was every bit as stupid and unkind as wrenching out a tooth so she could carve a bead from it and thread it on a string.\n\nShe sighed and left. Out through the wall, then down the unnamed stair. Perhaps she could go hunting down in Lynne, it was a piping place, and mus-\n\nIt was then. Heading down, a sly stone turned beneath her foot. As Auri made her musing way from Tumbrel down the unnamed stair, a stone step tipped and pitched. Her forward. Lurching.\n\nAuri gave a cry, and in her sudden startle Fulcrum leapt away. He spun and tumbled from her arms and sailed out from the cloud of her gold hair. Heavy as he was, he almost seemed to float rather than fall. He turned, toppled, and struck the seventh stair so hard he cracked the stone and bounded back into the air, then spun again, fell flat upon his brazen face, and shattered on the landing.\n\nThe sound he made was like the keening of a broken bell. The sound was like a dying harp. Bright pieces scattered when he struck the stone." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Auri somehow kept her feet. She didn't fall, but oh, her heart went icy in her chest. She sat down hard upon the steps. Too numb to walk. Her heart was cold and white as chalk.\n\nShe could still feel him in her hands. She saw the lines of his sharp edges kissed into her skin. Coming to her feet she shuffled stiffly down the stairs. Her steps were numb and stumbling as more thoughtless step-stones tried to trip her, like a daft old man who won't stop telling an unfunny joke yet and again.\n\nShe knew. She should have moved more gently with the world. She knew the way of things. She knew if you weren't always stepping lightly as a bird the whole world came apart to crush you. Like a house of cards. Like a bottle against stones. Like a wrist pinned hard beneath a hand with the hot breath smell of want and wine....\n\nAll brittle stiff, Auri came to stand upon the bottom stair. Her eyes were down and all around her hung her sunny hair. This was the worst of wrong. She could not bring herself to look beyond her tiny dust-smudged feet.\n\nBut there was nothing else to do. She lifted up her eyes and peered. Then peeked. Then she saw the pieces, and her heart went sideways in her chest. No. Not shattered. Broken. He had broken.\n\nSlowly Auri's face broke too. It broke into a grin so wide you'd think she ate the moon. Oh yes. Fulcrum had broken, but that wasn't wrong. Eggs break. Horses break. Waves break. Of course he broke. How else could someone so all certain-centered let his perfect answers out into the world? Somethings were just too true to stay.\n\nFulcrum lay in three bright pieces. Three jagged shapes with three teeth each. No longer a pin stuck hard into the heart of things. He had become three threes." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If anything her grin grew wider then. Oh. Oh. Oh. Of course. It wasn't something she was looking for. No wonder all her searching was for naught. No wonder everything was canted wrong. It was three things. He was bringing three, and so must she. Three perfect threes would be her gift for him.\n\nAuri's brow furrowed and she turned to look backup the stairs. The gear had struck the seventh step. Fulcrum had shattered it quite flagrantly. Not seven then. Another thing she had been wrong about. He wasn't coming on the seventh day. He would visit her today.\n\nSome other time that knowing might have sent her spinning badly out of true. It would have set her all asweat and tangled beyond all hope. But not today. Not with the truth so sweetly set before her. Not with everything so sudden plain for her to see. Three things was easy if you knew the way of it.\n\nAuri was so whelmed it took her several minutes before she realized where she was standing. Or rather, she realized that the stairway finally knew where it was. Knew what it was. Where it belonged. It had a name. She was in Ninewise." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "AURI GATHERED UP the threes and headed back to Mantle. They seemed much lighter now, though that was no surprise. They had spilled their secrets, and Auri knew full well how heavy hard-held secrets could become.\n\nBack in Mantle, Auri carefully arrayed the threes. But before she even finished settling them along the wall, she saw the shape of her first gift to him. It couldn't be more clear. No wonder there was so much extra floor inhere. No wonder she had never used the second shelf along the wall.\n\nThe teeth were marvelous. So true. They shone like wishes from a faerie tale.\n\nSeeing how it ought to be, Auri took the first bright three straight back to Tumbrel. Through Wains with its altogether men, and circle-perfect Annulet, then Ninewise, all nonchalant with its new-namedness.\n\nGrinning, Auri carried the bright brass three right up to the wardrobe drawer and tucked it inmost carefully. It nestled in effortlessly. It fit there like a lover or a key. She reached down with both hands and felt the cool white smoothness of the sheet against her fingertips. She brought it up and pressed it to her lips.\n\nIt was free to leave. And breathless, she came running back to Mantle with it clutched against her chest.\n\nThe second three she carried straightaway to Tocks. And fora breathless moment Auri left the Underthing behind. A broken wall, a hidden stair, then through abasement up into the storeroom of the finest inn she knew. There she left the three and took away a thick white eider stuffed with innocence and down. It was fine and soft, full of kind whispers and remembered roads." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Even laden with the weight of it, Auri sprinted through the tunnels lightly as a wisp.\n\nBack in Mantle, she spread the mattress carefully against the wall across from her own bed. Close enough that if he needed her just whispering would be enough. Close enough so if he wanted to, he could sing to her at night.\n\nShe flushed a bit on thinking that, then brought the perfect creamy sheet and wrapped it all around his bed. She smoothed it gently with her hands. Its loveliness was like a kiss against her skin.\n\nGrinning, Auri crossed to Port and brought the blanket back. No wonder it had left her. It had known the truth of things much sooner than herself. It simply wasn't for her anymore. She spread his blanket on the bed and noticed it no longer feared the floor. Stepping back she looked at it, so soft and sweet and safe and fair.\n\nFrom Port she brought his fine teacup. She brought the leather book, uncut, unread, and utterly unknown. She brought the small stone figurine. All three of these she set upon the shelf beside his bed so he would have some beauty of his own.\n\nAnd just like that, she had a gift for him: a safe place he could stay.\n\nAs much as she might want to stop and bask, she needed to keep moving. Three was the rule today. She needed two gifts more.\n\nAuri went back to Port and eyed the shelves with her best maker's eye. And since it was a making day, and with the wind so fair upon her back, she thought on what it was that he might need.\n\nIt was a different way of thinking. Even though she was not wanting for herself, she knew this sort of thing was dangerous." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She eyed the hollybottle, it teased at her, but she knew it wasn't right for him. Not quite. It was an unexpected visit gift. The honeycomb... almost. She reached out to touch two fingers to the jar of laurel fruit. She lifted up the jar and held it to the light. It's true that he was somewhat lacking laurels.\n\nIt clicked together then. Of course. She smiled a bit. What better to keep rage at bay? Besides, it was the third part of a thing she'd already begun. A candle. A candle would be just the thing for him.\n\nShe stopped then, all of a sudden, the jar still in her hand. She held her breath and thought about the hard realities of time. A candle meant melting. And melding. Most of all it meant a mold. She felt her whole face frowning at the thought of something dipped for him. It wasn't right at all, he was not one for dribs and drabs.\n\nNo. A mold. It was the only way to make a candle fine enough for him.\n\nAnd that meant Boundary.\n\nShe didn't hardly hesitate at all. For herself she would not dare, but this was simply how it had to be. Didn't he deserve a few fine things? After all that he had done, didn't he deserve a fine and princely gift?\n\nOf course he did. So Auri strode to Mantle. So Auri opened wide the iron-bound door. So Auri entered Boundary.\n\nIt was a clean and quiet place.\n\nThere was a workbench. It was dark and smooth and hard as stone. There were mountings on the sides. A vice. A set of floating rings. A burner stand. There were taps and faucets, well-arrayed: all steel and brass andiron." }, { "from": "human", "value": "There were shelves here, all mounted on one wall." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Crowded with vast and varied tools of the craft. Acids and reagents in their stoppered glasses. Sulfonium inside ajar of stone. Racks of powders, salts and earths and herbs. Oils and unguents. Fourteen waters. Twicelime. Camphor. All perfect. All true. All gathered and factored and stored in the most proper ways.\n\nThere were tools here. Alembics and retorts. A fine wide wickless burner. Coils of copper tubing. Crucibles and tongs and boiling baths. There were sieves and filters and copper knives. There was a fine grinder and a gleaming clean screw press.\n\nThere were the stone shelves too. The careful shelves. Bottles hunkered there behind the thick, thick glass. These bottles were not tidy like the other shelves. They were not labeled. They were muttly. One held screaming. Another, fury. There were many bottles there, and those two were nowhere near the worst.\n\nAuri set the jar of laurel fruit atop the workbench. She was a small thing. Urchin small. Most things did not fit her. Most tables were too tall. This one was not.\n\nThis room used to belong to her. But no. This room belonged to someone once. Now it didn't. It wasn't. It was a none place. It was an empty sheet of nothing that could not belong. It was not for her.\n\nAuri opened a drawer in the workbench and brought out a circtangular brass mold. The sort that would suit a candle well.\n\nHer expression grave, Auri eyed the laurel fruit. It was every bit as reverent as one might expect, but it was prideful too. And held a hint of north wind's chill. That needed to be tempered. And... yes. There was a thread of anger running through it too. She sighed. That would not do at all." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She narrowed her eyes at it and danced the numbers through her head. Glancing back and forth between the mold and the jar of fruit, she saw the wax it bore would not be near enough. Not for an entire candle. Not fora proper candle. Not for him.\n\nAuri left and returned with the honeycomb. Moving in a businesslike fashion, she lay it in the press and screwed the handle down until the honey poured into the clear, clean jar below. It was the work of half a minute.\n\nLeaving it to drip, she lit the nearby wickless and spun the ringstand so that it held a crucible at the proper height. She opened up the press, lifted out the flat sheet of beeswax, and folded it in quarters before setting it in the crucible. There was not a lot of it, perhaps as much as she could cup in both her hands. But once she'd rendered down the laurel fruit, it would be enough to fill the mold.\n\nAuri eyed the melting wax and nodded. It was a drowsy thing. All autumn sweetness, diligence, and due reward. The bells were not unwelcome either. There was nothing in it that she did not want for him.\n\nHoney and laurel might have been enough if this were a simple poet's candle. But he was no mere poet. She needed something more.\n\nA pinch of camphor would have been ideal. Just a pinch, a spark, a hint of something volatile. But she had no camphor, and there was no sense in wishing. So she fetched a daub of perfect pitch instead from Port. For binding, and to keep his heart hearty against the coming winter.\n\nAuri stirred the beeswax with a slender glass rod. She smiled. It was a rare joy working with the proper tools. What luxury. Waiting for the resin to dissolve, Auri whistled as she stirred, and grinned. That would be her secret. There would be her whistle in the candle too." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She stepped into Mantle then, and eyed her perfect lavender in the grey glass jar. She lifted out a sprig of it. Then two. Then Auri felt the hot shame rise in her chest. This was no time for thrift. He was never stingy with his help. Didn't he deserve sweet dreams?\n\nAuri set her jaw and pulled fully half the lavender from out the jar. She could be a greedy, greedy thing at times.\n\nBack into Boundary. Auri poured the laurel fruit into the grinder. In three breaths' time it was minced tidily and fine. Then she stopped, staring at the mass of half-pulped fruit.\n\nShe knew the proper way for laurel. She knew the patient way of things. Grind and boil the waxy fruit. Sieve off the dottle. Boil again and clarify and cool to separate the wax. Even with the proper tools it would be hours of work. Hours and hours.\n\nBut he was coming soon. She knew. She knew she had no time for it.\n\nAnd even if she had all day. There would be principles inside the wax that were not right for him. He was plum full of anger and despair. And pride... well, he had that in a sure and certain surfeit.\n\nThere were ways to factor those things out. She knew them all. She knew the turning circles of the calcinate. She could sublime and draw. She could isolate anon-exclusionary principle as well as any who had ever turned their hand to work the craft.\n\nBut this was not a time for begging favors from the moon. Not now. She could not rush and neither could she be delayed. Somethings were simply too important.\n\nIt was just as Mandrag said: Nine tenths of alchemy was chemistry. And nine tenths of chemistry was waiting." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The other piece?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That slender tenth part of a tenth? The heart of alchemy was something Auri had learned long ago. She'd studied it before she came to understand the true shape of the world. Before she knew the key to being small.\n\nOh yes. She'd learned her craft. She knew its hidden roads and secrets. All the subtle, sweet, and coaxing ways that made one skilled within the art. So many different ways. Some folk inscribed, described. There were symbols. Signifiers. Byne and binding. Formulae. Machineries of maths...\n\nBut now she knew much more than that. So much of what she'd thought was truth before was merely tricks. No more than clever ways of speaking to the world. They were a bargaining. A plea. A call. A cry.\n\nBut underneath, there was a secret deep within the hidden heart of things. Mandrag never told her that. She did not think he knew. Auri found that secret for herself.\n\nShe knew the true shape of the world. All else was shadow and the sound of distant drums.\n\nAuri nodded to herself. Her tiny face was grave. She scooped the waxy fine-ground fruit into a sieve and set the sieve atop a gather jar.\n\nShe closed her eyes. She drew her shoulders back. She took a slow and steady breath.\n\nThere was a tension in the air. A weight. Await. There was no wind. She did not speak. The world grew stretched and tight.\n\nAuri drew a breath and opened up her eyes.\n\nAuri was urchin small. Her tiny feet upon the stone were bare.\n\nAuri stood, and in the circle of her golden hair she grinned and brought the weight of her desire down full upon the world." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And all things shook. And all things knew her will. And all things bent to please her.\n\nIt was not long before Auri returned to Mantle with a sorrel colored candle pressed with lavender. It smelled of bay and bees. It was a perfect thing.\n\nAuri washed her face. She washed her hands and feet.\n\nSoon. She knew. Soon he would come visiting. Incarnadine and sweet and sad and broken. Just like her. He would come, and like the proper gentleman he was, he would bring three things.\n\nGrinning, Auri fairly danced. She would have three things for him as well.\n\nFirst his clever candle, all Taborlin. All warm and stuffed with poetry and dreams.\n\nSecond was a proper place. A shelf where he could put his heart. Abed to sleep. Nothing could harm him here.\n\nAnd the third thing? Well... She ducked her face and felt a slow flush climb her cheeks....\n\nStalling, Auri reached out for the small stone soldier sitting on his bedshelf. Strange she'd never noticed the design upon its shield. It was so faint. But yes. There was the tower wrapped up in a tongue of flame. No mere soldier, it was a small stone Amyr.\n\nPeering closer, Auri spied slight lines upon his arms as well. She did not know how she had missed these things before. It was a tiny Ciridae. Of course. Of course it was. It would hardly be a proper present for him otherwise. She kissed the tiny figurine and set it back upon the shelf.\n\nStill, there was the third thing. This time Auri did not blush. She smiled. She washed her face and hands and feet. Then she skipped quickly into Port and opened up the hollybottle. With two fingers Auri lifted out a single seed. The tiny berry bright as blood despite green Foxen's light." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Auri scampered off to Van and peered into the mirror. She licked her lips and pressed the berry up against them, daubing it from left to right. Then she smoothed the berry back and forth across them.\n\nShe eyed her reflection. She looked no different than before. Her lips were palest pink. She smiled.\n\nAuri returned to Mantle. She washed her face and hands and feet.\n\nExcitement bubbling up inside of her, Auri looked at his bed. His blanket. His bedshelf with the tiny Amyr waiting thereto guard him.\n\nIt was perfect. It was right. It was a start. He would need a place someday, and it was here all ready for him. Someday he would come, and she would tend to him. Someday he would be the one all eggshell hollow empty in the dark.\n\nAnd then... Auri smiled. Not for herself. No. Not ever for herself. She must stay small and tucked away, well-hidden from the world.\n\nBut for him it was a different thing entire. For him she would bring forth all her desire. She would call up all her cunning and her craft. Then she would make a name for him.\n\nAuri spun about three times. She smelled the air. She grinned. All around her everything was proper true. She knew exactly where she was. She was exactly where she ought to be." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "DEEP IN THE UNDERT HING, stones warm beneath her feet, Auri heard a faint, sweet strain of music." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Partner with the writer, carry on with the story.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, magic\nAuthor: Terry Goodkind\nTitle: Soul of the Fire\nChapter: 70" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Encouraged him? How?\"\n\n\"With a club.\"\n\nAnn's eyebrows rose. \"I see.\"\n\n\"And then, I'm so bad with directions, we became separated from the rest of the line, and well, I guess now we're lost.\"\n\n\"How unfortunate for us.\"\n\n\"I guess that leaves looking for some of Jagang's troops and surrendering, or else returning to the Light.\"\n\n\"Alessandra, are you serious?\"\n\nThe woman looked ready to burst into tears. The banter was over. \"Please, Prelate, help me?\"\n\n\"Alessandra, you don't need me. The path to the Light is through your own heart.\"\n\nSister Alessandra knelt down behind the wagon as Ann still satin her box, her hands and feet in chains.\n\n\"Please, dear Creator,\" Alessandra began.\n\nAnn listened as the woman poured her heart out. At the end, she kissed herring finger. Ann held her breath, waiting fora bolt of lightning to strike Alessandra dead for betraying the Keeper of the underworld.\n\nNothing happened. Alessandra smiled up at Ann.\n\n\"Prelate, I can feel it. I can-\"\n\nHer words were cutoff with a choking sound. Her eyes bulged.\n\nAnn scooted toward her. \"Alessandra! Is it Jagang? Is it Jagang in you mind?\"\n\nAlessandra nodded as best she could.\n\n\"Swear loyalty to Richard! Swear it in your heart! It's the only thing to keep the dream walker from your mind!\"\n\nFalling to the ground, Sister Alessandra twitched in convulsions of pain, at the same time mumbling words Ann couldn't understand." }, { "from": "human", "value": "At last, the woman went slack, panting in relief." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She sat up and peered up into the wagon.\n\n\"It worked! Prelate, it worked.\" She put her hands to her head. \"Jagang is gone from my mind. Oh, praise the Creator. Praise the Creator.\"\n\n\"How about getting these things off me, and doing your praying later?\"\n\nSister Alessandra scurried to help. Before long, Ann had her shackles off, and she had been healed. For the first time in what seemed ages, she could again touch her own gift.\n\nThe two of them unhitched the horses and saddled them with tack from the wagon. Ann hadn't felt so joyous in years. They both wanted to get faraway from the Imperial Order army.\n\nAs they made their way through the city, heading north, they came across a square filling with thousands of people all carrying candles.\n\nAnn bent over on her horse to ask one of the young women what was going on.\n\n\"It's a candlelight vigil for peace,\" the woman said.\n\nAnn was dumbfounded. \"A what?\"\n\n\"A candlelight vigil for peace. We are all gathering to show the soldiers coming into the city a better way, to show them the people are going to insist on peace.\"\n\nAnn scowled. \"If I were you, I'd beheading fora hole, because these men don't believe in peace.\"\n\nThe woman smiled in along-suffering manner. \"When they see us all gathered for peace, they will see that we area force too powerful to overcome with anger and hatred.\"\n\nAs the young woman marched on into the square, Ann seized Sister Alessandra's sleeve. \"Let's get out of here. This is going to be a killing field.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But Prelate, these people are in danger. You know what the soldiers of the Order will do. The women... you know what they will do to the women. And any men who resist will be slaughtered.\"\n\nAnn nodded. \"I expect so. But there is nothing we can do about it. They will have peace. The dead will have peace. The living will have peace, too-as slaves.\"\n\nThey made it past the square just in time. When the soldiers arrived, it was worse even than Ann had envisioned. Screams of panic, then terror, and then pain rose from the trapped throng. The cries of the men and the children would end relatively quickly. The screams of the older girls and women had only just begun.\n\nWhen at last they reached the countryside, Ann asked, \"I told you we had to eliminate the Sisters of the Light who wouldn't escape. Did you do as you knew I wished, before you escaped with me, Sister?\"\n\nSister Alessandra stared ahead as she rode. \"No, Prelate.\"\n\n\"Alessandra, you knew it had to be done.\"\n\n\"I want to comeback to the Creator's Light. I couldn't destroy the life he created.\"\n\n\"And by not killing those few, many more could die. A Sister of the Dark would want that. How can I trust you are telling me the truth?\"\n\n\"Because I didn't kill the Sisters. If I were still a Sister of the Dark I would have. I'm telling the truth.\"\n\nIt would be wonderful if Alessandra had returned to the Light. That had never happened before. Alessandra could bean invaluable source of information.\n\n\"Or it shows you are lying, and are still sworn to the Keeper.\"\n\n\"Prelate, I helped you escape. Why won't you believe me?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ann looked over at the woman as they rode out toward the wilds, toward the unknown. \"I can never fully believe or trust you, Alessandra, not after the lies you have told. That is the curse of lying, Sister. Once you place that crown of the liar upon your head, you can take it off again, but it leaves a stain for all time.\"\n\nRichard turned when he heard the horse approaching from behind. He checked Kahlan, who lay inside the carriage, as he walked beside it. She was asleep, or possibly unconscious. At least he could now recognize a little of her face.\n\nRichard looked again when the horse was closer, and saw a rider in red. Cara trotted her horse up close and then dismounted. She took the reins and walked up beside him. She had a limp.\n\n\"Lord Rahl, it took me along time to catch you. Where are you going?\"\n\n\"Home.\"\n\n\"Home?\"\n\n\"That's right, home.\"\n\nCara looked up the road. \"Where is home?\"\n\n\"Hartland. Maybe to the west-in the mountains. There are some nice places there, places I've always wanted to take Kahlan.\"\n\nShe seemed to accept this and walked silently beside him fora time, leading her horse along behind.\n\n\"Lord Rahl, what about everything else? D'Hara. The Midlands. All the people.\"\n\n\"What about them?\"\n\n\"Well, they will be waiting for you.\"\n\n\"They don't need me. I quit.\"\n\n\"Lord Rahl, how can you say such a thing?\"\n\n\"I have violated every wizard's rule I know. I've...\"\n\nHe let it go. He didn't care." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Where is Du Chaillu?\" Cara asked.\n\n\"I sent her home to her people. Her task with us was done.\" Richard glanced over. \"She had her baby. A beautiful little girl. She named it Cara, after you.\"\n\nCara beamed. \"Then I am glad it was not ugly. Some babies are ugly, you know.\"\n\n\"Well, this one was beautiful.\"\n\n\"Did it look like you, Lord Rahl?\"\n\nRichard scowled at her. \"No.\"\n\nCara peered into the carriage. Her blond braid slipped forward over her shoulder.\n\n\"What happened to the Mother Confessor?\"\n\n\"I just about got her killed.\"\n\nCara didn't say anything.\n\n\"I heard you were captured. Are you all right?\" he asked.\n\nCara pushed her braid back over her shoulder. \"They were fools. They didn't take my Agiel. When you fixed the magic, I made them all curse their mothers forever meeting their fathers.\"\n\nRichard smiled. That was the Cara he knew.\n\n\"And then I killed them,\" she added.\n\nShe held out the broken top of a black bottle. It still had the gold filigree stopper. \"Lord Rahl, I failed. I didn't bring you your sword. But... but I managed to break the black bottle from the Wizard's Keep with the sword, at least.\" She stopped, her blue eyes brimming with tears. \"Lord Rahl, I'm sorry. I failed. I tried my best, I swear, but I failed.\"\n\nRichard stopped then. He put his arms around her. \"No, you didn't fail, Cara. Because you broke that bottle with the sword, we were able to get magic back to right.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Really?\"\n\nHe nodded as he looked her in the eye. \"Really. You did right, Cara. I'm proud of you.\"\n\nThey started walking again.\n\n\"So, Lord Rahl, how far to home?\"\n\nHe thought it over a few minutes. \" I guess Kahlan is my family, so that makes it home wherever we are. As long as I'm with Kahlan, I'm home.\n\n\"Cara, it's over. You can go home now. I release you.\"\n\nShe stopped. Richard walked on.\n\n\"But I don't have a family. They are all dead.\"\n\nHe looked back at her, standing in the road, looking as forlorn as anything he had ever seen. Richard went back, put an arm around her shoulders, and started walking with her.\n\n\"We're your family, Cara, Kahlan and me. We love you. So I guess you should come home with us.\"\n\nThat seemed to suit her.\n\n\"Will there be people at this home place who need killing?\"\n\nRichard smiled. \"I don't think so.\"\n\n\"Then why would we want to go there?\"\n\nWhen he only smiled, she said, \"I thought you wanted to takeover the world. I was looking forward to you being a tyrant. I say you should do it. The Mother Confessor would agree with me. That makes it two against one. We win.\"\n\n\"The world didn't want me. They took a vote and said no.\"\n\n\"A vote! There was your problem.\"\n\n\"I won't do it again.\"\n\nCara limped along beside him fora time and then said, \"They will all find you, you know. The D'Harans are bonded to you. You are the Lord Rahl. Everyone will find you.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Maybe. Maybe not.\"\n\n\"Richard?\" came a soft voice.\n\nHe pulled the team up and went to the side of the carriage.\n\nKahlan was awake. He took her hand.\n\n\"Who's that?\" she asked.\n\nCara leaned in. \"Just me. I had to comeback. You see what kind of trouble you get into when I'm not watching over you?\"\n\nKahlan smiled a little smile. She released Richard's hand and took Cara's.\n\n\"Glad you're home,\" Kahlan whispered.\n\n\"Lord Rahl said I saved the magic. Can you imagine? What was I thinking? I had the chance to rid myself of magic, and instead I saved it.\"\n\nKahlan smiled again.\n\n\"How are you feeling?\" Richard asked.\n\n\"Terrible.\"\n\n\"You don't look so bad,\" Cara told her. \"I've been much worse.\"\n\nRichard gently stroked Kahlan's hand. \"You'll get better. I promise. And wizards always keep their promises.\"\n\n\"Cold,\" she said. Her teeth were beginning to chatter.\n\nRichard spotted the blanket Dalton Campbell had put on the side and pulled it closer.\n\nThe Sword of Truth fell out. He stood staring at it.\n\n\"The sword has come home, too, I guess,\" Cara said.\n\n\"I guess it has.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Support the writer by proceeding with the storyline.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, machines\nAuthor: Terry Goodkind\nTitle: The Omen Machine\nChapter: 33" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So far all I know is that the elements of the various symbols are actually intended to be combined-that the string of them is more than the sum of their parts. At least, that's what the High D'Haran explanations say, that the string of component parts when put together form a language.\"\n\n\"The language of Creation,\" Zedd said in a sour tone.\n\n\"Yes. Because of that, I think it's a mistake to try to interpret the symbols individually. If you try, then you lose sight of the true meaning expressed by the combination. Those strings of symbolic inscriptions are the language of Creation. I just can't figure out how to decode it.\"\n\nZedd gestured with the strip of metal. \"So you're saying that these strings of symbols are actually meant to be combined, like the words in a sentence, in order to communicate some kind of information, or to tell a story?\"\n\nBerdine lifted an eyebrow at Richard. \"Dear spirits, isn't that a wonder? I think he's finally paying attention.\"\n\nZedd ignored her. \"So if you haven't figured out anything at all of this language from the book, then you can't even guess at what these longer emblematic statements might mean.\"\n\nRichard tapped the end of his pen on the table fora moment. \"I'm afraid not.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Looking more concerned than either Zedd or Nathan, Nicci didn't appear nearly so skeptical, or dismissive. Kahlan knew that Nicci had come to trust Richard, and believe in him, in a deeply personal way that was ironclad. Kahlan, of course, felt an even deeper sense of trust in Richard that only unconditional love could bring. Zedd had for the most part raised Richard, so he knew him well enough to know better than Nicci how much trust Richard's word warranted, but having raised Richard, he found it hard to admit it out loud, or to keep from interrogating him to be doubly certain.\n\nNicci did not take anything Richard said lightly, and so she wanted to press. \"Why doesn't the book work the way it should? What do you need to make it work? What's missing?\"\n\nRichard succumbed to a sigh. \"I don't know.\"\n\nNicci wasn't satisfied. \"You must have learned something.\"\n\nHe ran a handover the open book. \"From everything I can tell it should work, but it simply doesn't. Berdine and I have been going around in circles and getting nowhere. In essence, the book says'When combined with these elements in this way, this design means this. \"But when you apply the rules the string of symbols only ends up as meaningless nonsense. I can't for the life of me figure out why it won't work the way it's supposed to.\"\n\nZedd gestured dismissively toward the book. \"Perhaps this book, Regula, doesn't really have anything to do with the machine, like you thought it did, or at least not as much as you assumed it must. After all, with a machine hidden away for untold ages, and a book of unknown origin with half of it missing, how can you know for certain that there really is a direct connection between the two?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Richard shrugged. \"Simple.\" He turned the pages back to the beginning and spun the book around to his grandfather. \"This emblem, here, taking up this whole beginning page, is the same symbol that's on the spine. It defines what this book is, what it's about. It's the same symbol that's on all four sides of the machine.\"\n\n\"That same symbol is on both-the book and the machine?\"\n\nRichard confirmed it with a nod.\n\nZedd thought it over fora moment. \"Do you have any clue as to what the emblem means?\"\n\n\"I'm afraid not.\"\n\nZedd paced in agitation fora moment. \"This is on the machine? This same drawing? The whole thing, exactly like this, every detail the same?\"\n\n\"Exactly the same,\" Richard said. \"The whole emblem, every line, every motif, every detail. I tried to decipher it from the translations in the book, but I can't make sense of it, either. It seems like it should workout, but it doesn't.\" Richard tapped the center of the design. \"This symbol, this herein the center, looks like it might be a stylized figure nine.\"\n\nZedd eyed it unhappily. \"It certainly appears that way.\"\n\n\"Why would there be a nine in the center of this?\" Kahlan asked. It seemed to her an odd thing to have in the center of so many occult elements. She especially didn't like the way the top part of the nine looked to be made from a serpent's head. She hated snakes.\n\nZedd glanced momentarily at the complex symbol. \"Nine is an important trigger element. It links a number of laws of magic that have powerful influence over events. Threes are elemental in magic. Among other things, they are used in proofing magic. Threes construct nines-three threes make nine. They give nines power, help make them a Creative element.\" Zedd stirred a finger over the drawing. \"That's likely the purpose behind the triangle, here, around it. It has three sides. I have to tell you, Richard, multiples of three are often trouble.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You mean, like the three children of trouble?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Bad news coming in threes? Things like that?\"\n\nZedd nodded. \"I believe that's the origin of the sayings. These three symbols at the points of the triangle are supporting elements in the construction of the web. They help tie it to the nine to strengthen the bond, make it more powerful.\"\n\n\"So do you have any guess at what it could mean, then?\" Richard asked as he studied the emblem.\n\nZedd scratched his cheek. \"I haven't the faintest idea.\"\n\nNicci leaned in, using a finger to trace the figure without touching it. \"Seethe way this nine in the center ends with a hook?\"\n\nWith that quiet question it was as if Nicci had slipped on the robes of the teacher she had once been to Richard, his instructor in the use of his gift. It had turned out to be a futile effort, but not for any failing on Nicci's part. It was simply that Richard's gift was unlike anyone else's. Since no one understood it or how it functioned they couldn't teach him anything about using it.\n\nBy the slight shift in Nicci's bearing Kahlan suspected that the sorceress knew something about the device in the center of the emblem.\n\nIt was clear to Kahlan that Richard suspected the same thing. \"What of it?\"\n\n\"Well, what does that hook tell you? What does it suggest? Why would it end with a hook?\"\n\n\"A hooked nine makes this more than a web using the simple figure nine,\" Richard said, thinking out loud. \"So, it's intended to hook something together, or to hook it to something.\"\n\n\"It's therefor a reason,\" Nicci prompted.\n\n\"It's hooking all of this, this\"-Zedd gestured irritably around the edge of the emblem-\"whatever it is, together.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Or it is hooking it to a host,\" Nicci said with demure authority.\n\nRichard looked up from the emblem. \"A host?\"\n\nNicci had been waiting for his gaze. \"Whoever, or whatever, this is intended for. A host. It's meant to hook it fast to them. So what is the nature of the hook?\"\n\n\"The nature of the hook?\" Richard was intently focused on the lesson being laid out before him even though he couldn't yet grasp its meaning.\n\n\"What did Zedd say about this figure?\"\n\nRichard glanced at his grandfather momentarily before returning his attention to Nicci. \"He said it was Creative.\"\n\n\"And what does that tell you?\"\n\nRichard rested his chin on the tips of his fingers as he gazed down at the curl of the backward nine in the book. \"That makes sense,\" he said, half to himself. \"It has to do with Creation. The curled figure nine almost looks embryonic....\"\n\n\"And the hook?\" Nicci asked so quietly that Kahlan knew the words were meant for him alone.\n\n\"The nine is Creation, life,\" Richard said under his breath. \"Life is a cycle. Birth, life, death. Life and death together. Creation needs death to enable life to continue to exist, to continue to come about. Death must eventually follow Creation.\"\n\nRichard looked up suddenly. \"The hook is death.\"\n\nThe room was dead silent.\n\nRichard's gaze stayed locked on Nicci. \"The hook is the symbolic representation of death, of the Keeper of the underworld, always waiting to eventually reap the living.\"\n\nKahlan felt goosebumps tingle up her arms.\n\nNicci's blue eyes revealed her inner satisfaction at his sudden insight. \"Very good, Richard.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In that instant, as she and Richard, the sorceress and the wizard, looked into each other's eyes, it was as if no one else was in the room, as if no one else existed. Kahlan wondered if even Zedd had known the shades of meaning Nicci had just taught Richard about that figure.\n\nNicci's smile ghosted away. \"I don't like this, Richard. I don't like it one bit. People don't go to this much trouble and effort with such things, only to bury them... unless it had turned out to be great trouble. To see such elements dealing in such dark powers at the center of it all confirms it.\"\n\nRichard puzzled at the symbol fora moment. \"Why is the nine backward?\"\n\nEveryone leaned in, gazing down at it, as if seeing it for the first time. Nathan frowned at the book, unable to offer a reason. Nicci shook her head, not even able to venture a guess.\n\n\"Backward?\" Zedd asked as he peered down at the symbol.\n\n\"Yes. The whole emblem is backward. You can tell because the nine is backward as well.\"\n\n\"Good question,\" Zedd said. \"I just assumed it was intended to be that way. But now that you mention it, it does seem backward.\"\n\nRichard stared at the drawing fora long moment. He suddenly looked up at his grandfather.\n\n\"Backward... that's it!\" He shot to his feet. \"Zedd, you're a genius!\"\n\n\"Yes, I'm well aware of that.\" He cocked his head. \"But... how exactly have I outdone myself this time?\"\n\n\"You've just helped me figure out how the book works. You've given me the key to get past the locks.\" He looked down at Berdine. \"It's backward. Everything in this book is backward.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Berdine made a face. \"Backward?\"\n\nRichard nodded, then turned back to his grandfather. \"The rules we've been applying don't work, and as a consequence the translations don't work. It should be a relatively straightforward process to translate the elements so we can begin to understand the language on the strips, but the translations aren't working properly. You just helped me figure out the reason.\"\n\nZedd looked more than a little suspicious. \"And what would the reason be?\"\n\n\"It's a trick meant to protect the information.\" Richard dropped into his chair. \"It's all backward from the way the machine sees the emblem.\"\n\n\"What do you mean, the way the machine sees the emblem?\" Nicci asked in a careful tone." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Zedd waved a hand, insisting on being the first one to ask the questions. \"What do you mean it's backward? What's backward?\"\n\n\"The symbols in the book,\" Richard said. He lifted the book to show Kahlan the emblem on the spine. \"This symbol is the same one that's inscribed on the machine we found. Remember?\"\n\n\"I remember.\" Kahlan couldn't understand what he was getting at. \"They're all the same-the ones on the sides of the machine, the one on the first page of the book, and that one on the spine. If they're all the same then they must have been deliberately drawn that way because they're part of the language of Creation. So what makes you think they're backward?\"\n\n\"That's right,\" Zedd put in. \" You said yourself you can't make the book work at decoding anything, so for all you know the nine in all of these emblems is supposed to be backward. It's stylized, after all, not necessarily intended to be literal.\n\n\"Symbolic elements are often stylized. They don't always look exactly like the thing they represent. The serpent head making the top of the nine is stylized, not an exact representation. The symbol for fire on that other strip doesn't actually look like fire, it's stylized. It very well could be as Kahlan suggested, that it's meant to be that way because it's part of the language.\"\n\n\"They're not right,\" Richard insisted. \"They're all flipped around backward from the way they're supposed to be. All of them are wrong.\"\n\nZedd threw his hands up. \"If everyone of them, in everyplace, is the same, then how can they all be wrong?\"\n\nNicci hushed the apoplectic wizard, then turned toward Richard, intent on hearing him out. \"How do you know they're wrong? How do you know they're backward?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Because,\" Richard said, \"this is what we see when we're looking inward." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But it's not what the machine sees.\"\n\nNicci's brow lowered in away that would have halted most people's breath and maybe made their heart skip a beat. Her intent gaze remained locked on Richard's. \"You said that before, that it's backward from the way the machine sees the emblem. What are you talking about, the machine seeing?\"\n\nRichard pressed the heels of his hands together, pointing all his fingers up and out to demonstrate. \"The machine used light to project the symbol upward, like this, the same symbol as on the spine of this book. It projects it out from down inside its metal box, up onto the ceiling.\"\n\nNicci straightened with the disquiet of comprehension.\n\nZedd, still not understanding, planted his fists on his hips. \"So?\"\n\n\"Well, all the other symbols-on the sides of the machine and in the book-are the same, but the one projected by light from within the machine up onto the ceiling was reversed. Upon the ceiling, the nine wasn't backward. That emblem, projected from inside the machine up onto the ceiling, is what the symbol looks like from inside the machine, looking out. It's what the machine would see on the ceiling. That's how it sees its own emblem.\"\n\n\"How it sees its own emblem?\" Zedd repeated in frustration. \"You can't be serious.\"\n\nRichard pulled apiece of paper close and dipped his pen in an ink bottle and drew a large, boldly dark figure nine on it. He held it up for Zedd to see.\n\n\"This is what the machine is drawing with light, what it sees: a nine.\"\n\nZedd rolled his hand. \"Goon.\"\n\nRichard turned the paper around and held it in front of a lamp so Zedd could seethe nine through the back of the paper. \" When you look down into the machine at the light, at what the machine sees as a nine, what it is drawing with light, you seethe nine like this-backward." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The emblem, as we see it marked down everywhere, the impressions, the imprints, are what we would see looking down into the machine, at the designs in light it would be creating and projecting outward. But that's backward from the machine's view out onto the world\"-Richard flipped the paper around so Zedd could seethe front with the nine the way he had drawn it-\"of the way it sees the emblem it projects onto the ceiling.\"\n\nKahlan rose from her chair as the simplicity of it dawned on her. \"Of course. Richard is right, these are all backward.\"\n\nZedd eyed them both as if the insanity had become infectious. \"You're making this machine sound alive. It's gears and levers, you said. A machine.\"\n\n\"Of course.\"\n\nWith one hand on a hip, Zedd paced as he considered it. \"I hate to say it,\" he finally admitted, \"but as crazy as it sounds that actually does make sense. Dangerous books involving magic usually have safeguards to keep just anyone from using them. It may sound crazy when you hear it at first, but it certainly would make a powerful safeguard.\"\n\n\"It seems like a pretty easy safeguard to crack,\" Berdine said. \"Sure, it took Lord Rahl a little while, but he figured it out. Seems like a safeguard would have to be more difficult to solve if it really is going to protect a dangerous book.\"\n\n\"You really think so?\" Zedd slowly shook his head as his gaze left Berdine to meet Richard's. \" The only reason he figured it out was because he activated the magic that showed him the projected symbol.\n\n\"I have a feeling that only the right person could have done that. Many forms of magic are keyed to specific users. Someone else might have found that machine, but I have a feeling that only Richard could have activated it. In so doing it gave him the solution he needed to make the book work for him so that he could use that clue to understand what the machine wants to tell him. I doubt anyone else would have had access to that clue. That makes the safeguard doubly safe.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Zedd tossed a metal strip on the table.\n\nRichard stared at the old wizard fora moment. \"Now you're the one making it sound alive.\"\n\nZedd only smiled.\n\nRichard finally sat and scooted his chair up to the table. \"Berdine, we have to invert all those rules we had listed out and then link them to the High D'Haran translations.\"\n\nBerdine dipped her pen in an ink bottle and pulled apiece of paper close. \"Here, let me see one of those other strips.\"\n\nRichard picked one of the strips up off the table. He turned it over in his fingers a moment before looking at the symbols inscribed on it. He laid it at the top of Berdine's paper so she could use it as reference.\n\n\"This is going to take awhile,\" Richard told Zedd as he pulled the book back. \"But we've already established all the links, so hopefully it will be a little easier this time through.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Richard turned his attention to Benjamin, standing back out of the way with Cara and Nyda, watching. \"I need you to do something, General.\"\n\nBenjamin stepped forward. \"Yes, Lord Rahl?\"\n\nWith the back end of his pen, Richard pointed toward the ceiling. \"I need you to take a work crew up there, to the Garden of Life, and have them fix the glass roof. It needs to be done as soon as possible.\"\n\nBenjamin tapped a fist to his heart. \"I'll take care of it, Lord Rahl.\"\n\n\"Zedd, Nathan, Nicci, while Berdine and I are working on this, why don't you go down there and see what you can find out about the machine.\"\n\nZedd nodded. \"I would like to get a look for myself.\"\n\n\"And Benjamin, I need you to do something else.\" Richard gestured back over his shoulder. \"You see that odd notch in the wall? It really makes no sense for this room to have that corner intruding into it like that. We're somewhere under the Garden of Life. I want you to see if you can't figure out a floor plan of this area of the palace.\"\n\nBenjamin glanced to the notched corner. \"A floor plan?\"\n\n\"Yes. I want to know what's under the Garden of Life, besides the machine. I want to know how far that machine goes down through the palace. I want to know what we're dealing with. I want to know where the bottom of the machine is. We're not that far under the garden level, so I suspect that you will find that the machine is behind that odd corner sticking into this room.\"\n\nBerdine was frowning back at the odd jog in the wall. \"Lord Rahl, that shelf back there, against that wall...\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I know,\" Richard said, quietly. \"That's where we found this book. That's another reason I suspect that the machine is on the other side of that wall. I want to know how deep it goes down through the palace.\"\n\nBenjamin hooked a thumb behind his belt. \"While you're working on translating the symbols, I'll find out, Lord Rahl.\"\n\n\"Nyda and I will help,\" Cara said. \"The Mord-Sith are familiar with all the corridors-public and private. We have to be able to move quickly through the palace in case there is ever an attack, so we know all the halls, pass-through rooms, and secret passageways.\"\n\n\"Good,\" Richard said. \"Hopefully, we'll have these strips decoded before you finish mapping the machine's resting place.\"\n\nNathan waggled a finger over the book. \"And it's complete enough? There is enough information in the book to decipher all the symbols?\"\n\n\"Yes, I believe so,\" Richard said.\n\nNathan didn't look satisfied. \"If that's true, if the book is a means to translate the symbols, and all the information you need is there so that you can do just that, then what part of the book is missing? What part was taken to the Temple of the Winds?\"\n\nRichard stared up at the prophet a moment before finally speaking. \"According to what little it says on that topic, the part they took to the temple for safekeeping is the explanation of the purpose of the machine.\"\n\n\"That's not very comforting,\" Zedd said.\n\nKahlan found that thought more than a little troubling as well. Without knowing the purpose of the machine, they didn't really know what they were dealing with. The fact that the machine had been sealed away and hidden seemed to her to be a bad omen." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Richard gently slipped a hand around Kahlan's waist and changed the subject. \"Why don't you go with them.\"\n\nKahlan twitched a frown at him. \"Why?\"\n\n\"The translations you already did were what I needed. Berdine and I are likely going to be here the rest of the night. There's nothing more you can do for now. Why don't you get some rest? I think you'll be safe from snooping eyes in the Garden of Life. Maybe you can get some sleep while Berdine and I work on decoding the symbols and Zedd and the others investigate the machine.\"\n\n\"We'll watch over her, Richard,\" Nicci said. \"No hidden eyes will be looking in at her while she sleeps.\"\n\n\"Thanks, Nicci. Zedd, maybe when you getup to the garden you could heal Kahlan's hand. It's getting worse.\"\n\nZedd's expression reflected his concern. \"Of course.\"\n\nKahlan realized that she wasn't surprised that Richard knew how much her hand was hurting. It was next to impossible for her to hide anything from Richard.\n\nWhen she heard the distant howl, her gaze was drawn to the high windows. She realized that it wasn't coming from the high windows. It had to have come from somewhere else, but she couldn't tell where, exactly.\n\nKahlan remembered the prophecy the woman gave before she died, that dark things, feral things, would come for Kahlan in the night. The memory of the woman's words, \"Dark things stalking you, running you down. You won't be able to escape them,\" gave her a chill.\n\nWhen she noticed that no one else seemed to have heard it, she thought that she must have only heard some other errant sound and mistook it for the howl of a wolf. Richard was right, she was tired. She was letting her imagination runaway with her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kahlan kissed Richard's cheek and then trailed her hand along the back of his shoulders on her way by. He caught her hand. She wished more than anything that he could come lie with her, keep her company, keep her safe. Her hand finally slipped from his gentle grasp as she followed the others on their way to the Garden of Life." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Hannis Arc, working on the tapestry of lines linking constellations of elements that constituted the language of Creation recorded on the ancient Cerulean scroll spread out among the clutter on his desk, was not surprised to seethe seven ethereal forms billow into the room like acrid smoke driven on a breath of bitter breeze. Like an otherworldly collection of spectral shapes seemingly carried on random eddies of air, they wandered in a loose clutch among the still and silent mounted bears and beasts rising upon their stands, the small forest of stone pedestals holding massive books of recorded prophecy, and the evenly spaced display cases of oddities, their glass reflecting the firelight from the massive hearth at the side of the room.\n\nSince the seven rarely used doors, the shutters on the windows down on the ground level several stories below stood open in a fearless show of invitation. Though they frequently chose to use windows, they didn't actually need the windows anymore than they needed the doors. They could seep through any opening, any crack, like vapor rising in the early morning from the stretches of stagnant water that lay in dark swaths through the peat barrens.\n\nThe open shutters were meant to be a declaration for all to see, including the seven, that Hannis Arc feared nothing.\n\nMany people in Saavedra, the ruling city of Fajin Province down in the broad valley below the citadel, shuttered themselves in at night.\n\nEveryone out in the Dark Lands did.\n\nShutting in at night for fear of what might be outside was only wise, after all. While that was true for those down in the city, it was doubly true for those who lived out in the more remote areas. There were corporeal dangers in the night, creatures that hunted with fang and claw, worthy of fear. There were other things to fear as well, things one rarely saw coming, if at all, until it was too late." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Hannis Arc, though, did not fear the things that came out at night." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He bent those elements to his own ends, mastered them, making him the source of fear, not its victim. He banked the hot coals of those fears in the hearts of others so that they would always be ready to roar to life in order to serve him.\n\nHannis Arc wanted people to fear him. If they feared him, they respected him, they obeyed him, they bowed down to him. He made sure that people were never without cause to fear him.\n\nNo, unlike most people who inhabited the Dark Lands, Hannis Arc was not himself burdened by fears. Instead, he was driven by a ceaseless, smoldering rage, a rage that was like a thing alive within him. That rage left no room for fear to find a foothold.\n\nThat ever-present rage dwelling within him was a brightly burning star that always guided his way. It was always thereto compel him, counsel him, even to chide him, as it drove him to set great wrongs right. Anger was not only his constant companion, it was his trusted friend, his only friend.\n\nThe glow of the dozens of candles in the stand at the far end of the room wavered as the seven familiars swirled around them on their way by, as if lingering to ride the eddies of heat rising from the flames.\n\nMohler, the old scribe hunched over a massive book laid open on a stand not faraway, straightened as if he thought he might have heard something. One of the seven glowing forms glided around him, trailing a tendril hand along his jaw. The man glanced around, seeming to feel the touch, but he couldn't find its source.\n\nHe couldn't seethe familiars.\n\nThe woman standing guard back near the doors could." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "With gnarled, arthritic fingers, Mohler touched his cheek, but when he could find no cause for the sensation his hand dropped to his side and he returned his attention to recording the latest prophecies from the abbey while the seven spiraled up toward the vaulted ceiling to glide along the hulking stone arches and skim just beneath the heavy beams, surveying the gloomy, candlelit room.\n\n\"It's your move,\" Hannis Arc reminded the hunched scribe.\n\nMohler glanced back momentarily to see his master watching him. \"Ah yes, so it is,\" he said as he laid down his quill and turned from his work at the massive book to shuffle over to the stone pedestal that held the board laid outwith carved alabaster and obsidian pieces.\n\nHe'd had more than enough time to consider his next move. He'd had most of the night, in fact. Hannis Arc hadn't pressed. He had already worked out the array of moves available to the man. None seemed to be good choices, although some were not as swiftly fatal as others.\n\nHesitantly, Mohler reached out and moved an alabaster piece to another square, taking an inky black piece that occupied it off the board and setting it aside. It was a move that he had probably pondered for hours, a move that captured a valuable piece and put him into a position to threaten to win.\n\nHannis Arc rose and, hands clasped behind his back, strode to the board. He stroked the knuckle of his first finger along his gaunt cheek to make it look as if the loss of his piece might have taken him by surprise and his next move required consideration. It did not.\n\nHe advanced a black pawn toward the white side. Mohler had hoped for just that move and he was ready. Without thinking it through he immediately took the pawn, placing his alabaster rook in its place on a square that now placed his opponent in peril." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Hannis Arc had been expecting such impatience from the old scribe." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Unlike most people, Hannis Arc was not plagued by the flaw of impatience. He had been practicing restraint and patience all day for this very moment, just as he had practiced it for decades for other things. He finally reached out and with a slender finger and thumb slid an obsidian queen to the square where the man had placed his rook, pushing it aside. He hooked the pale rook with his little finger and removed it from play. With measured care he set the captured piece to the side.\n\n\"Checkmate.\"\n\nIn unexpected alarm, Mohler's gaze darted about the board, looking for salvation. His bushy brow finally lifted and he sighed in resignation. \"So it is. I'm afraid that I've proven yet again to be a poor foil for your skill, Bishop.\"\n\n\"Leave me.\"\n\nThe man looked. \"Bishop?\" He lifted a hand back toward the book. \"I have not finished recording the reports.\"\n\n\"The hour grows late. I will retire soon. You can enter the rest of the reports from the abbey in the morning.\"\n\nMohler bowed. \"Of course, Bishop. As you wish.\" He started away but then stopped and turned back. \"Do you need anything before I leave you? Anything to eat or drink?\"\n\nOne of the familiars spiraled her form around the man, teasing at him. Mohler glanced around, almost feeling it, almost aware of her. In the end he gave up, probably ascribing the sensation to his old bones, and returned his gaze to the bishop, awaiting his master's wishes.\n\n\"No. I will want to look over the latest words from the abbey first thing in the morning.\"\n\n\"Of course, Bishop,\" the man said as he dipped another bow. He paused, hand on the door handle, and turned back, as if reading his master's dark thoughts. \"You will have your revenge, Bishop. You will be pleased to see from the latest prophecies that your patience will be rewarded. You will have your rightful place as ruler of D'Hara, I know you will. Prophecy seems to say as much.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Hannis Arc glared at the man, assessing whether he was being obsequious or genuinely meant it. He saw the glint of hope in the man's eyes and knew then that it was the latter. Some men needed an iron fist to rule them. Mohler was one of those, one who found great comfort in the shadow of a great man.\n\nMore than that, though, Mohler had been there. He knew the rage that burned in his master, and he knew the reason for it.\n\nAt that thought, Hannis Arc was visited by a flash of memory he'd had times beyond counting, the jarring, jagged, fragmented impression of his father being dragged out into the courtyard in the night, fighting every inch of the way, proclaiming his loyalty to the House of Rahl even as the powerfully built soldiers began clubbing him; of clinging to his mother before she hurriedly pulled his slender arms off her and stuffed him into an entryway bench, closing the lid before the men charged back into drag her out as well; of the terrible, singular sound made by a single violent blow of a heavy mace studded with spikes caving in his older sister's skull as she stood in the entryway, frozen in panicked fear; of the cries and grunts from his mother as she was being beaten to death; of all the blood in the entry, on the courtyard cobblestones; of the still form of his sister lying in the entry; of the corpses of his parents on the cobblestones; of the screams of servants who had witnessed the murders; of the fading cries as they ran off into the night in fear for their own lives.\n\nOf peeking out again from under the lid of the bench to seethe heavily armed soldiers swing up into their saddles and charge away into the night, their assignment of assassination completed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Of hiding in the darkness all night, trembling in fear that they would comeback and find him.\n\nOf hours later, just after dawn, when Mohler, anew young servant come up from the city to work at the citadel, found him hiding in the bench and lifted him out.\n\nAll because Panis Rahl believed in striking down any potential challenge to the House of Rahl before it had a chance to develop. He had his soldiers slaughter anyone, real or imagined, who could be a potential threat to his rule. Even the minor ruler of Fajin Province in the distant Dark Lands, who had harbored no particular ill will toward the ruling House of Rahl and had always been loyal, was guilty of possessing the potential to one day be a threat, and so he and his family had to die for the crime of existing.\n\nBut the cunning folk, as they were called, were not to be trifled with. Even the gifted rightly feared their occult powers. Panis Rahl knew that such powers and abilities as dwelled in the Dark Lands could be a threat, but in striking against the ruler of Fajin Province, he had made a mistake. He had struck a generation too soon.\n\nAs the fires of rage roared within him, Hannis Arc knew that the threat to the rule of the House of Rahl this time was all too real. He would see to it. He would never again tremble in fear of a Rahl. He would seethe wrongs righted.\n\nHe would have revenge.\n\nThat this new Rahl ruler, Richard Rahl, was said to be different from Panis Rahl and nothing like Darken Rahl, who had managed to outdo his father in every murderous way, made no difference at all to Hannis Arc." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As vicious as Darken Rahl had been, he had also been a man distracted by an obsession. Since Hannis Arc had not yet been ready to strike, he had turned Darken Rahl's attention away with a gift to feed his obsession-he had given Darken Rahl what he wanted more than anything else. He had given him one of the boxes of Orden that had long been hidden away in the Dark Lands. Hannis Arc had no use fora box of Orden, but Darken Rahl had coveted it, and thus the gift had bought Hannis Arc autonomy as well ascertain useful favors.\n\nAs Hannis Arc had heard it, Darken Rahl's obsession had ultimately been his undoing and he had ended up being killed by his son, Richard Rahl. A Rahl killing his father hardly surprised Hannis Arc.\n\nIt made no difference to Hannis Arc that Richard Rahl had not interfered with the rule of the Dark Lands or made demands for tribute. Being the ruler of D'Hara, he could at anytime choose to do so, as had his ancestors.\n\nBesides, he was a Rahl, and that alone sealed his fate.\n\nThis new Lord Rahl had led the D'Haran Empire to a great victory, defeating a tyrannical threat to their very existence. In so doing, he had unwittingly saved Hannis Arc, the man who would now bring him down.\n\nThe new Lord Rahl, like his father before him, had no idea of the abilities Hannis Arc possessed, or the powers he could command. Hannis Arc could have struck earlier, as Richard Rahl was forging the D'Haran Empire and fighting the war for their survival, but then he would have had a war on his hands. It would have been difficult to survive against the incredible might of the Imperial Order." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Instead, he had lain back, saving himself for the right time, working on his abilities, and let Richard Rahl fight the long and difficult war." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Hannis Arc had even sent troops to support the effort, as would anyone loyal to the D'Haran Empire. He had saved himself and worked on his plans. Now that war was ended, the time to extract his revenge on the House of Rahl had at long last arrived.\n\nThe new Lord Rahl was said to be widely respected, admired, and even loved by many. He was a man at the height of power, a conquering hero.\n\nHannis Arc was pleased that the man was as powerful as he was. That would make his fall all the farther, all the harder, and therefore, Hannis Arc's rise all the more momentous, all the more satisfying.\n\nStill, Hannis Arc knew that simply killing a manlike that would accomplish nothing except to make him a martyr. Making Richard Rahl a martyr would not bring Hannis Arc the rule of the D'Haran Empire.\n\nHe knew that he couldn't merely kill a popular Lord Rahl and expect to move into the People's Palace and rule the D'Haran Empire. It would not be that simple. After all, as a ruler of a distant province Hannis Arc was unknown to most people.\n\nNo one would respect his rule. Not yet, anyway.\n\nHannis Arc first needed people to stop believing in Lord Rahl, in the man, in his ability to protect them from their rightful fears. Once his people lost their respect and rejected him, Richard Rahl's fall from power would be swift.\n\nOnly then, in that moment of chaos and panic, would D'Hara be ready to castoff the shackles of the House of Rahl and at last embrace someone who would speak to their fears about the future.\n\nWhile Darken Rahl had been preoccupied with his obsession for the boxes of Orden, and Richard Rahl had fought the long war for the D'Haran Empire, Hannis Arc had been working on the means to accomplish his lifelong goal of removing the House of Rahl from power and taking its place himself. His patience had at last been rewarded." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Now that goal was within his grasp. The means were at hand.\n\n\"Rest assured, Mohler, I will rule D'Hara,\" he said softly. \"That day will come sooner than we have ever before dared hope. The great gears of change have been set in motion. The pieces are finally moving into place, all to my advantage. There will be no stopping me, now. It will soon be check-mate for the House of Rahl.\"\n\n\"Prophecy is on your side,\" Mohler said. \"Surely, Bishop, the Creator is no lesson your side. I have always believed that He has protected you since that awful day when your parents were murdered because He has great things planned for you. He has helped you rise up and overcome all the obstacles in your path. The Creator will see this, too, finally come to pass.\"\n\n\"He reveals to us through prophecy that it is so.\"\n\n\"I look forward, then, to anew awakening out of darkness, as prophecy itself has foretold.\"\n\nLittle did the man know that there had already been an awakening out of darkness.\n\nLittle did the man know that the seven familiars huddled together in the peak of the ceiling, watching, listening. Hannis Arc knew that they would report every word back to the Hedge Maid.\n\n\"Soon, Bishop, you will rule D'Hara. You will rule the empire.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Mohler did not lookup to meet the steady gaze of the blue-eyed woman watching him as he pulled open the door. Few people had the courage to meet her gaze. Hannis Arc returned to his desk as the old scribe pulled the heavy iron-bound oak door closed on his way out.\n\nAshe scooped his dark robes under his legs to sit at the desk in his massive leather chair, he watched from the corner of his eye as the seven glided in closer.\n\nTheir flowing robes radiated a supple, bluish blush with a soft, ethereal glimmer to it. They moved with fluid grace, their robes never still, giving him the impression that he was actually looking in at them in another place, seeing them in an ethereal world of continual gentle breezes.\n\nFrom a distance, each seemed as elegant a creature as ever existed. To all appearances they seemed to be made of air and light as much as flesh and bone. As they glided closer, he fancied that they looked like nothing so much as good spirits.\n\nHe knew, though, that they were anything but good spirits.\n\nSix of them drifted idly together, like corks in a pond, watching from not faraway as the seventh floated in close on the other side of the desk.\n\nAs she leaned in he could finally see beyond the edge of the cowl covering her head, seethe wrinkled flesh of her pitted and pockmarked face, the knotted blue veins, the warts and ulcers that ravaged her distorted features, the hanging tags of skin, the eyes the color of rancid egg yolks. She smiled a wicked smile that promised overwhelming pain and suffering should she wish it.\n\nHannis Arc was not in the least bit intimidated. Rather, he was indignant to be shown such little respect. He did not try to keep the displeasure from his voice." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Has Jit completed the tasks I gave her?\"\n\nThe familiar laid a gnarled hand on the desk as she leaned over toward him. With long, curved nails, bunched, callused skin, and knobby joints, her hand looked more like a claw.\n\nShe was close enough to have rattled most people down to their very soul, close enough to paralyze a victim with fear. Hannis Arc was no more unnerved by her appearance than she appeared to be of his.\n\nHer voice came like a hiss across silk. \"You dare to demand of us, to demand of our mistress?\"\n\nHannis Arc whipped his arm around and slammed his knife down with all the force he could muster, pinning the familiar's disfigured hand to the desktop. She let out a squealing screech that seemed as if it might break the glass in all the display cases and crack the stonewalls besides. It was a shriek that he thought must be something like what would come from those dragged down to the darkest depths of the underworld. It was the stuff of nightmares brought to life.\n\nThe arms of the other six waved in rage, like pennants in a gale. They swooped in around their trapped companion, incredulous to see her stuck fast, clicking their bewilderment to one another in a tongue that sounded like nothing so much as small little bird bones snapping.\n\n\"Surprised?\" He arched an eyebrow. \"Surprised that a knife wielded by a mere man could harm you?\"\n\nShe let out another squealing screech that was loud enough to raise the dead as she again tugged and twisted wildly at her hand pinned to the desktop by the knife. Her bluish black lips curled back in a snarl, showing her fangs as she leaned toward him. It did her no good." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The heavy desk rattled and wobbled, the feet lifting clear of the floor every time she yanked on her arm, trying without success to free it. The other six snaked through the air around her in sympathetic outrage. When they grabbed at her to try to pull her free they received a lightning jolt from the knife that shot though them, forcing them to release their grip.\n\n\"What have you done?\" the one stuck fast demanded in a screech.\n\n\"Why, I have pinned you to the desk. Isn't it obvious?\"\n\n\"But how!\"\n\n\"Right now that is really not what should concern you. What should matter most to you now is recognizing that I am no mere man and that it would be in your best interest to show me a great deal of respect. As you have discovered, I have abilities to handle the likes of you seven arrogant little lizard-eaters. That goes for your mistress as well.\"\n\nHer eyes betrayed confusion behind the hot glare of hate.\n\nHannis Arc smiled without humor. \"Didn't the Hedge Maid tell you that much of it when she called you forth from beneath the ground to serve her? Well\"-his smile widened-\"perhaps she had her reasons. Perhaps you seven weren't really important enough for it to matter to her.\"\n\n\"You will be made to suffer for this,\" she said in a hiss.\n\n\"I just told you that you need to show me a great deal of respect, and instead you threaten me?\" He leaned toward the familiar, glaring into her wild eyes as he seized the handle of the crescent-bladed axe propped against the desk beside his right leg. \"For this offense, you lose the hand. Threaten me again and you lose your existence.\"\n\nHe brought the axe around with one swift, powerful swing. It thunked into the desk, sticking fast, chopping the familiar's hand off at the wrist. Freed, she wheeled in frantic pain and shot away, crashing blindly off the stonewalls, knocking over a stand holding a book and breaking the glass in one of the cases." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The wriggling hand remained pinned by the knife, the wrist terminating against the axe blade stuck deep in the desktop.\n\n\"Oh, look there, you've lost some of your precious blood,\" he said with mock sincerity. \"Well, that really is a shame.\"\n\nThe other six retreated to a safe distance, or at least what they believed to be a safe distance, suddenly cautious, fearing to be too hasty in their response.\n\nAs the familiar, cradling the stub at the end of her arm, slowed to glare at him, Hannis Arc crooked a finger at her, compelling her to return. Hesitantly, she approached the desk, rage and fear twisting her already twisted features. He noted that despite her rage, despite her hesitancy, she had nonetheless obeyed him.\n\nHe was pleased to see that she was beginning to respect him.\n\n\"Don't you ever threaten me again,\" he told her in a deadly tone. \"Do you understand?\"\n\nShe glanced down at her severed hand pinned to the desk. \"Yesss,\" she hissed.\n\n\"Now, answer my question. Has your mistress completed her tasks?\"\n\n\"She watches the one you want watched. She still waits for the one she has summoned. The hounds drive him and will deliver him to her.\" She lifted her remaining hand, pointing at him. \"Once she has him, then her task is completed and she will be through with you.\"\n\n\"She lives in my land and will do exactly as I say, when I say it, or she will lose my protection.\"\n\n\"Jit does not need you to protect her.\"\n\n\"Without my protection, Kharga Trace would not be a safe haven from the half people. She would be meat for their stew. You all would.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The familiar paused fora moment, scrutinizing his eyes. \"The half people? The half people do not exist. They are merely a dusty rumor from ages long past.\"\n\n\"Oh, the half people exist. In fact, did you know that they make extraordinary weapons? Weapons that can be used against the dead?\"\n\n\"Bah. Whispered gossip, nothing more.\"\n\nHe arched an eyebrow. \"And just who do you suppose made the knife pinning your hand to the desk?\"\n\nThe familiar's dark gaze descended to the knife impaling her dismembered hand before finally regarding him again with a murderous look. She seemed to think better of what she was going to say and instead took a defiant tone.\n\n\"The half people are no threat to us or our mistress. Even if they do exist, they remain locked away beyond the north wall as they have for thousands of years.\"\n\nHannis Arc showed her a hint of a smile. \"Not any longer.\"\n\nThe familiar's upper lip curled back in a snarl. \"Another lie. The half people cannot breach the north wall.\"\n\n\"They didn't need to. I went beyond the wall and walked among them, talked with them. They listened, and in the end they chose to bow tome as their sovereign lord. So, I opened the gates for them. Now, they hunt the Dark Lands... but only where I tell them they may hunt, and who I tell them they may hunt.\"\n\nShe studied his face fora moment. \"You make a mistake thinking you can control the half people.\"\n\n\"Jit is the one who had better worry about making mistakes.\"\n\n\"Jit can protect herself,\" the familiar hissed. \"She does not need you to protect her, and neither do we. The half people would not come into the Trace. They would fear Jit as they feared the wall. They would fear to tread the Trace.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The other six floated in close around her to reinforce the point.\n\n\"Have you been beyond the north wall?\" He knew they hadn't. The wall worked both ways-it had for thousands of years. \"You know nothing of what they fear, and what they don't fear. Don't make the mistake of thinking that you do.\"\n\nHannis Arc yanked the axe free from the desk and gestured with it.\n\n\"They don't hunt the Trace only because I told them to stay out. They would eagerly enter Kharga Trace if I were to allow them in... especially if I give them the disembodied limbs of you seven for their stewpots.\"\n\nThe seven backed away as one and wisely remained silent.\n\n\"All of you, the Hedge Maid included, like the people of the Dark Lands, like the half people from beyond the north wall, are my subjects. You all live under my rule. You all owe your loyalty tome if you want to continue to enjoy the privileges you receive in return.\"\n\nThe curiosity of one of them overcame her caution. \"What privileges?\"\n\nHannis Arc cocked his head to the side. \"Why, the privilege of being allowed to live, of course.\"\n\nNone of the seven questioned what he meant.\n\n\"You tell Jit that she had better do as she's told. You tell her my words. You tell her that she also had better make sure that her familiars show proper respect to her ruler or none of you will have any hands left with which to feed her.\"\n\nThey all retreated a bit more, fright clearly registering on their faces.\n\nAbruptly, they swirled around to leave. \"It will be as you have commanded, Bishop,\" the handless one said. \"We will tell our mistress your words.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"See that you do.\"\n\nHannis Arc watched as they swirled like smoke and slipped out through the cracks around the heavy door. On their way out, as Mohler before them, they were careful not to meet the gaze of the woman standing guard there.\n\nHannis Arc's rage still burned out of control. He would set the wrongs right. The spirit of his father would watch from his hallowed place in the underworld as his son finally visited vengeance upon the House of Rahl.\n\nThis was the awakening of anew day in D'Hara, in more ways than one. The ages of darkness under the House of Rahl were about to be over.\n\nRichard Rahl was about to lose his grip on power. He was about to lose everything. Hannis Arc would see to it. And when he did, a fearful people would clamor fora new leader.\n\nJustice would finally be done.\n\nHannis Arc yanked the knife from the desk, the now slack hand still impaled on the blade. Ashe held it out toward the woman by the door, she stepped to the desk.\n\n\"Dispose of this, would you?\"\n\nAs she reached for the knife, he abruptly drew it back. \"No, I have a better idea.\" He gestured with it. \"Place it in that display case, there, for visitors to see.\"\n\nThe woman in red leather flashed a grim smile. \"Of course, Lord Arc.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Richard yawned. He looked up from the complexities of translating the symbolic elements he was working onto see Zedd coming back into the library. Through the high windows above, the first blush of dawn revealed a clear sky.\n\nThe strange spring storm had broken, but it seemed that it had merely been the harbinger of bigger problems. It was clear to Richard that there was trouble about, but whatever the core of the trouble might be, it was hidden from him. He was getting that familiar, uneasy feeling that he was in the dark about what was really going on.\n\nAll of it, from the boy down in the market to the storm, to the strange deaths, to the variety of strange prophecies, to the machine buried for so long that had suddenly come to life, was too much to be a coincidence. Things that seemed to be a coincidence always made him edgy. He was worried the most about the machine they had discovered, worried that it was somehow at the heart of it all.\n\nThe translations of the metal strips were only confirming his suspicions.\n\nSince he had discovered that everything in the book was backward, those translations, while tedious, had been working smoothly. The more he learned from those translations, the more his concern grew.\n\nAs his grandfather crossed the library, Richard noticed that Zedd didn't have the usual spring in his step. He thought at that moment that Zedd looked like nothing so much as an old man, a tired old man. Richard could read the creases in Zedd's face and tell that he, too, was concerned about what kind of trouble they might have on their hands. Zedd's typical exuberant, sometimes childlike way of looking at the world was nowhere in evidence. That, more than any words, framed for Richard the seriousness of the situation.\n\nThat, and the translations from the strips." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Richard stuck his hand in the book to stop the pages from turning over when out of the corner of his eye he spotted the part he was looking for.\n\n\"There's the first one,\" he told Berdine. He tapped an element on the page. \"That's the one. What's the inversion of it?\"\n\nBerdine leaned in, looking, reading the High D'Haran explanation silently. \"It has to do with falling.\"\n\nRichard had already begun to grasp the language of Creation and he knew what many of the symbols meant. He had only been looking to confirm his worst fears. Berdine just had.\n\n\"That's the last symbol, so it-\"\n\n\"So it ends the action of the subject,\" Berdine finished in a mumble. She hadn't yet figured out what Richard already had. She stuck her tongue out the side of her mouth as she wrote it down, then started turning pages in the book. \"I need the subject.\"\n\nRichard tapped the metal strip, showing her. \"Here. If it's inverted, then this part of the device is the subject.\"\n\nZedd, coming to an abrupt halt across the table, leaned in, squinting, trying to read the paper she was working on.\n\n\"What's that, there, that you've written down?\"\n\n\"It's the translation of the language of Creation inscribed on this strip,\" Richard said. \"How's Kahlan? Were you able to heal her hand?\"\n\n\"I'm a wizard, aren't I?\" He gestured to the paper where Berdine was writing. \"So, you've figured out how the book works? How these symbols work?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Richard said. \"It's quite remarkable, actually. The symbols are an incredibly efficient and compact form of language. What might take sentences, or even paragraphs for us to say, the language of Creation can express in a brief line of symbolic elements. With just a few devices combined in the right way it can tell you a whole story or convey a tremendous amount of information. It's extraordinarily precise in conveying meaning in a compact fashion.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Richard had long ago learned to understand emblematic devices." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He understood their language, how they represented things, and how they functioned in spell-forms. It turned out that those emblems he had already learned were rooted in the language of Creation. Without knowing it, he had already long ago begun learning to use the language of Creation.\n\nOnce he started using the book, and started translating the symbols, at some point in the night it had all clicked into place for him and he saw how what he already understood related to this new language, and how to use that knowledge to interpret the symbols the machine used. It was like opening a door he had never known was there. Ina flash of comprehension, everything he already knew fell into place in helping him to understand this new language.\n\nHe came to realize that it was more like learning anew dialect than anew language. As a result he had been able to rapidly grasp how it worked. Now he no longer needed the book Regula to understand the symbols.\n\nZedd picked up the strip to look at it again, as if he suddenly, magically, might understand it. He didn't. \"So if it worked, what's the translation? What does this strip say?\"\n\nRichard pointed with the back end of his pen. \"That one you're holding says'The roof is going to fall in. '\"\n\nZedd's frown grew. \"You mean, like that prophecy you mentioned? From that blind woman? The fortune-teller, Sabella, that you met out in the halls?\"\n\n\"That's the one.\"\n\n\"After the warning about darkness from the boy down in the market the other day? The one with the fever who was delirious?\"\n\nRichard nodded. \"That's right.\"\n\n\"The boy you thought was speaking gibberish.\"\n\n\"We thought it was gibberish at the time, but maybe it wasn't. After the boy's warning, I got the fortune from the blind woman that turned out to be the same prophecy we then got from Lauretta and from the machine. The boy said something else that, at the time, we thought was the fever speaking. He said, \"He will find me, I know he will.\"\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Certainly sounds like a fevered delirium.\"\n\nRichard picked up another strip. \"This one was at the bottom of the stack in the machine. That means it was the first one the machine made since it seems to have awakened down therein the darkness. I could hardly believe it when we translated it. It says \"He will find me.\"\"\n\nZedd gestured to the strip Richard was holding. \"You mean to say that the machine predicted that you would find it?\"\n\nRichard shrugged. \"You tell me.\"\n\n\"Are you sure that you've translated it properly?\"\n\nRichard glanced toward the door to see Nathan marching into the library. He, too, looked grim.\n\n\"Now that I have the key I needed, yes,\" Richard told Zedd. \"There can be no doubt. It all works out perfectly.\" Richard reached over and picked up the third strip. \"This one here, the one I thought has only the symbol for fire on it, turns out to translate perfectly in the High D'Haran key. It's exactly as I thought. It says only \"fire.\"\"\n\n\"What's that about fire?\" Nathan called out as he rushed up.\n\nZedd took the strip from Richard's hand and showed Nathan. \"The translation worked out just like Richard thought. It does mean fire, and nothing else.\"\n\nAt the far end of the library, Richard saw Lauretta trundle in carrying a load of her predictions. Two guards followed behind, lugging big stacks in their arms. It was going to be a lot of work for them to help carryall her predictions down from her room to their new home in the library. Richard was relieved to see that she was moving all that paper out of her place.\n\nNathan scowled. \"Fire.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That's right,\" Richard said. \"One of the others says'He will find me. \"That's what the sick boy down in the market told Kahlan and me. The other says that the roof will fall in, like Lauretta and the blind woman, Sabella, told me.\"\n\nNathan planted a fist on his hip. \"So happens that I'm hereabout Sabella.\"\n\n\"Really? What about her?\"\n\n\"She's been causing trouble. A few of the representatives went to her to hear her prophesy. They are insisting that they need to learn what the future holds.\"\n\nRichard sighed. \"Oh great. What did she tell them?\"\n\nNathan leaned in. \"\"Fire.\"\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"That's all she said:\"Fire. \"The representatives went back and told the others. They're all worked up, fearing that there will be afire in the palace. Several of the representatives woke up a short time ago, and came running out of their rooms in their nightclothes, all upset because they had dreams of fire.\"\n\n\"That is curious,\" Zedd mumbled as he rubbed his chin.\n\nRichard caught sight of Lauretta hurrying toward them from across the library. \"Lord Rahl! Lord Rahl!\" She was waving apiece of paper. \"There you are. I'm so glad I found you here.\"\n\nRichard stood as she came to a breathless halt. \"What is it?\"\n\nShe put a hand to her chest as she panted a moment, catching her breath. She thrust out a folded piece of paper.\n\n\"I had another prophecy for you. I wrote it down like always. I was going to put it with the others for safekeeping until I saw you again, but here you are.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Richard unfolded the piece of paper. It had only one word on it.\n\nFIRE.\n\n\"What is it?\" Zedd asked.\n\nRichard handed him the paper. Zedd's brow drew down as he read the single word on the paper.\n\n\"And do you have any inkling as to what this means?\" he asked the woman as he handed the paper to Nathan.\n\nShe shook her head.\n\nThe tall prophet read the single word silently and then looked up. \"Just like Sabella.\"\n\nZedd peered down at Richard. \"Any idea what it could mean?\"\n\nRichard sighed. \"I'm afraid-\"\n\nHe stopped as icy realization washed over him.\n\nHe tossed his pen on the table and raced for the door.\n\n\"Come on!\" he called back over his shoulder. \"I know what it means! I know where the fire is!\"\n\nZedd, Nathan, and Berdine ran to follow after him. Even Lauretta raced to catch up." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ashe ran down the service hallway, Richard could smell the smoke. Such a familiar smell when it came from campfires had always offered warmth and protection, but in the palace such an acrid smell carried terrifying implications. When he slid around the last corner he saw it billowing up thick and dark from under a door down the hall.\n\nBerdine clutched his sleeve in one hand to prevent him from getting ahead of her. Whenever there was even a hint of trouble, all of the Mord-Sith did whatever they could to stay as close as possible to him. Berdine had lost her bubbly demeanor, turning as implacable as any of the Mord-Sith when there was a threat. From time to time as she ran, she spun her Agiel up into her fist, as if to reassure herself that it was thereat the ready.\n\nDown the hallway beyond the smoke, Richard spotted men of the First File running in from the other direction. Several of them had buckets. Water slopped out as they ran, splashing across the wood floor. Several women, awakened at the early hour by the commotion, had come out of their rooms to stand in their doorways, clutching nightgowns at their throats in fright as they watched soldiers racing past.\n\n\"What is it?\" Nathan asked as he rounded the corner and caught up. Zedd was right on his heels.\n\nRichard pointed. \"It's Lauretta's place. It's on fire.\"\n\nLauretta stumbled to a halt, gasping for breath. Her short, rapid gait had left her face bright red and her hair in disarray.\n\n\"My room!\" She swallowed, trying to get enough air. She pressed her hands to the sides of her head. \"My prophecies!\"\n\nThe soldiers with the buckets kicked open the door. Black smoke laced with crackling sparks and burning pieces of paper rolled out into the hall and along the ceiling. Flags of flame unfurled out along the ceiling of the hallway. The soldiers heaved water in through the open doorway. From the amount of smoke and the heat from the flames, Richard didn't think their buckets of water were going to be anywhere near enough." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lauretta screamed when she saw the soldiers throwing water into her room. She pushed past Zedd and Nathan. \"No! You'll ruin my prophecies!\"\n\nRichard knew that it was too late to worry about that. Besides, water was not the real threat to her prophecies. He caught Lauretta's arm and dragged her to a halt. He knew that if left to her own devices she would run into the burning room to try to save her precious prophecies. As thick as the smoke was, and as heavily as she was breathing, she would have been overcome in mere seconds.\n\nThe heat, even at a distance, was withering. Richard was relieved that the palace was made mostly of stone. Still, parts of it, like the floors under them and beams above, were wood. They needed to putout the fire as quickly as possible.\n\nMore soldiers raced up with yet more buckets of water. They ran in toward the door, turned their faces away from the heat, and heaved the water in. Angry, hot flames licked out through the open door in defiance of the water. As Richard had suspected, such an effort was hopelessly ineffective.\n\nZedd knew it, too. He rushed past Richard and down the hall, ducking under the lowering black smoke hugging the ceiling to make his way toward the doorway into the inferno.\n\nUrging soldiers back out of the way with one arm, he cast the other out toward the open door as yet more smoke and flames poured out. Richard could seethe air waver before Zedd's hand, forcing the smoke back into the room, but more flames boiled out of the doorway, as if to chase the wizard away. The heat drove Zedd back.\n\n\"Bags! My gift is too weak in this place.\"\n\nNathan caught up with Zedd and lifted his palms out toward the smoke-filled doorway, adding his gift to the effort. He, too, caused the air to waver, but it also slowed the amount of smoke as the flames withdrew back into the room. At last the smoke coming out the doorway was choked off entirely, confining it to the room inside, leaving the hallway in a dark and pungent haze." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nathan was a Rahl. His gift wasn't hampered by the palace's spell. He stepped in closer, holding the flats of his hands out toward the doorway again. As Richard restrained Lauretta, he watched Nathan gradually circle his palms, sealing off the room, suffocating the fire at its source. After a few tense moments, the fire died out and the prophet spun a web that cooled the remains of Lauretta's home.\n\nAs Nathan entered the room, checking that it was safe, Richard let goof Lauretta, allowing her to follow. Weeping in misery, she rushed into the room behind Nathan.\n\nShe lifted her arms in distress. \"My prophecies! Dear Creator! My prophecies are ruined!\"\n\nRichard could see that she was right. There looked to be some stacks in the farthest reaches that might not have been totally destroyed, but the blackened, wet mess covering the floor was all that was left of most of them.\n\nLauretta fell to her knees, scooping up handfuls of the useless, wet ash.\n\n\"They're ruined,\" she wept.\n\nRichard laid a hand on her shoulder. \"You can write more, Lauretta. You can use the library as a place to write more.\"\n\nShe nodded absently. He wondered if she even heard him.\n\nOut in the hall, people had gathered to see what was happening. Many of them covered their noses against the stench left from the fire.\n\nRichard saw a number of representatives he recognized at the back of the crowd. They looked grim. The fire was obviously confirmation of the prophecy they had all heard that morning.\n\nMurmuring warnings to one another, the crowd parted. Cara marched through as if the people were not there, expecting everyone to get out of her way. There was never any problem with that. People were only too eager to get out of the way of a Mord-Sith, especially when she looked as angry as Cara looked. The last thing in the world that most people wanted was to cause a Mord-Sith to take notice of them." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Support the writer by proceeding with the storyline.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, communism\nAuthor: Terry Goodkind\nTitle: The Pillars of Creation\nChapter: 48" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But I don't see why-\"\n\n\"Don't argue with me! Who are you to think you know better!\"\n\n\"Sebastian, I-\"\n\n\"I don't have all the answers! That's why we're inhere!\"\n\nJennsen swallowed past the lump in her throat. \"I'm only worried for you, Sebastian, and Emperor Jagang. I don't want your heads to end upon the end of a pike, too.\"\n\n\"In war, you must act, not only by careful plan, but when you see an opening. This is what war is like-in war people sometimes do stupid or even seemingly crazy things. Maybe she and Lord Rahl have simply done something stupid. You have to take advantage of an enemy's mistakes. In war, the winner is often the one who attacks no matter what and presses any advantage. There isn't always time to figure everything out.\"\n\nJennsen could only stare up into his eyes. Who was she, a nobody, to try to tell an emperor's strategist how to fight a war?\n\n\"Sebastian, I was only-\"\n\nHe snatched a fistful of her dress and yanked her close. His red face twisted in anger. \"Are you really going to throwaway what might turnout to be your only chance to avenge your mother's murder? How would you feel if Richard Rahl really is crazy enough to be here?-Or if he has some plan we can't even conceive of?-And you just stand here arguing about it!\"\n\nJennsen was stunned. Could he be right? What if he was?\n\n\"There they are!\" came a cry from far down the hall. It was Jagang's voice. She saw him among a distant clot of his soldiers, pointing his sword as they all scrambled to turn a corner. \"Get them! Get them!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sebastian seized her arm, spun her around, and shoved heron down the hall." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jennsen caught her footing and ran with wild abandon. She felt ashamed for arguing with people who knew what war was all about when she didn't. Who did she think she was, anyway? She was a nobody. Great men had given her a chance, and she stood around on the doorstep of greatness, arguing about it. She felt a fool.\n\nAs they ran past tall windows-the very windows where the Mother Confessor and Lord Rahl had only moments before been seen something outside caught her eye. A collective groan went up from beyond the panes of glass. Jennsen slid to a stop, her hands out, gathering up Sebastian to stop him, too.\n\n\"Look!\"\n\nSebastian glanced impatiently toward the others racing away, then stepped closer to lookout the window as she shook her hand, frantically pointing.\n\nTens of thousand of cavalrymen had formed up into a huge battle line out across the palace grounds, stretching all the way down the hill, appearing to charge the enemy in a great battle. They all brandished swords, axes, and pikes as they rushed as a single mass, yelling bloodcurdling battle cries.\n\nJennsen watched in stunned silence, seeing nothing yet for them to fight. Still, the men, raising a great cry, ran forward with weapons raised. She expected to see them rundown the hill toward something out beyond the wall. Perhaps they could see an enemy approaching that she could not from her angle up in the palace.\n\nBut then, in the middle of the grounds, with a mighty shock all along the line, there was a resounding crash as they met the wall of an enemy that was not there.\n\nJennsen couldn't believe her eyes. Her mind groped to reconcile it, but the terrifying sight outside made no sense. She wouldn't have believed what she was seeing, were it not for the shock of sudden carnage. Bodies, man and horse, were rent open. Horses reared. Others went down, tumbling over broken legs. Men's heads and arms spun through the air, as if lopped off by sword and axe. All along the line, blood filled the air. Men were driven back by blows that exploded through their bodies. The dark and grimy force of Imperial Order cavalry was suddenly bright red in the muted daylight. The slaughter was so horrific that the green grass was left red in a swath down the hill." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Where there had been battle cries, now there were piercing screams of appalling suffering and pain as men, hacked to pieces, limbs severed, mortally wounded, tried to drag themselves to safety. Out in that field, there was no such place, there was only confusion and death.\n\nHorrified, Jennsen looked up into Sebastian's baffled expression. Before either could say a word, the building shook as if struck by lightning. Following close on the heels of the thunderous boom, the hall filled with billowing smoke. Flames boiled toward them. Sebastian snatched her arm and dove with her into aside hall opposite the window.\n\nThe blast roared down the hall, driving chunks of wood, whole chairs, and flaming drapery before it. Fragments of glass and metal shrieked by, slicing through walls.\n\nAs soon as the smoke and flames had rolled past, Jennsen and Sebastian, both with weapons to hand, raced out into the hall, running in the direction Emperor Jagang had gone.\n\nWhatever questions or objections she had were forgotten-such questions were suddenly irrelevant. It only mattered that-somehow-Richard Rahl was there. She had to stop him. This was finally her chance. The voice, too, urged heron. This time, she didn't try to put the voice down. This time, she let it fan the flames of her burning lust for vengeance. This time, she let it fill her with the overwhelming need to kill.\n\nThey raced past tall doors lining the hall. Each of the deep-set windows that flashed by had a small window seat. The walls were faced with frame and panel wood painted a shade of white warmed with a bit of rose color to it. As they came to the intersection of corridors and rounded the corner, Jennsen didn't really notice the elegant silver reflector lamps centered in each of those panels; she saw only the bloody handprints smeared along the walls, the long splashes of blood on the polished oak floor, the disorderly tangle of still bodies." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There were at least fifty of the burly assault soldiers scattered haphazardly down the hall, each burned, many ripped open by flying glass and splintered wood. Most of the faces weren't even unrecognizable as such. Shattered rib bones protruded from blood-soaked chain mail or leather. Along with the weapons that lay scattered, the hall was awash with gore and loose intestines, making it look like someone had spilled baskets of bloody dead eels.\n\nAmong the bodies was a woman-one of the Sisters. She had been nearly torn in two, as had been a number of the men, her slashed face set in death with a fixed look of surprise.\n\nJennsen gagged on the stench of blood, hardly able to draw a breath, as she followed Sebastian, jumping from one clear space to another, trying not to slip and fall on the human viscera. The horror of what Jennsen was seeing was so profound that it didn't register in her mind; at least, it didn't register emotionally. She simply acted, as if in a dream, not really able to consider what she was seeing.\n\nOnce past the bodies, they followed a trail of blood down amaze of grand halls. The distant sound of men shouting drifted back to them. Jennsen was at least relieved to hear the emperor's voice among them. They sounded like hounds locked on the scent of a fox, baying insistently, refusing to lose their prey.\n\n\"Sir!\" a man called from far back through a doorway to the side. \"Sir! This way!\"\n\nSebastian paused to look at the man and his frantic hand signals, then pulled Jennsen into a resplendent room. Across a floor covered with an elegant carpet of gold and rust-colored diamond designs, past windows hung with gorgeous green draperies, a soldier stood at a doorway into another hall. There were couches like none Jennsen had ever seen, and tables and chairs with beautifully carved legs. While the room was elegant, it was not imposingly so, making it seem like a place where people might gather for casual conversations. She followed Sebastian as he ran for the soldier at the door on the opposite side of the room." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It's her!\" the man called to Sebastian. \"Hurry! It's her! I just saw her pass by!\"\n\nThe hulking soldier, still trying to catch his breath, sword hanging in his fist, peeked out the doorway again. Just before they reached him, as he peered down the hall, Jennsen heard a dull thump. The soldier dropped his sword and clutched at his chest, his eyes going wide, his mouth opening. He fell dead at their feet, no sign of any wound.\n\nJennsen pushed Sebastian up against the wall before he could go through the doorway. She didn't want him encountering whatever had just dropped the soldier.\n\nAlmost at the same time, from the way they had come, she heard the snapping hiss of something otherworldly. Jennsen dropped to the floor, stretching out over Sebastian, holding him against the edge of floor and wall, as if he were a child to be protected. She closed her eyes tight, crying outwith fright at the thunderous blast behind her that shook the floor. A barrage of rubble shrieked through the room.\n\nWhen it finally went still and she opened her eyes, dust drifted through the destruction. The wall around them was peppered with holes. Somehow, she and Sebastian were not hurt. It only served to confirm what she already believed.\n\n\"It was him!\" Sebastian's arm shot out from under her to point across the room. \"It was him!\"\n\nJennsen turned but saw no one. \"What?\"\n\nSebastian pointed again. \"It was Lord Rahl. I saw him. Ashe ran past the door he cast in a spell of some kind-a pinch of sparkling dust-just as you pushed me against the wall. Then it exploded. I don't know how we survived in a room filled with such flying debris.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I guess it all missed us,\" Jennsen said.\n\nThe room had been turned inside out. The draperies were shredded, the walls holed. The furniture that only moments before had been so beautiful was now a wreck of splinters and ripped upholstery. The rumpled carpet was covered in white dust, pieces of plaster, and splintered wood.\n\nA hanging chunk of plaster broke away and crashed to the floor, raising yet more dust as Jennsen made her way through the wreckage of the room, toward the door they had come through, the door where Sebastian had pointed, the door where only moments before Lord Rahl had been. Sebastian retrieved his sword and quickly followed her out.\n\nThe hall, its woodwork so tastefully painted, was now smeared with blood. The body of another Sister lay crumpled not faraway. When they reached her, they saw her dead eyes staring up at the ceiling in surprise.\n\n\"What in the name of Creation is going on?\" Sebastian whispered to himself. Jennsen thought, by the look on the dead Sister's face, that she must have wondered the same thing in the last instant of her life.\n\nA glance out the window showed a killing ground littered with thousands of bodies.\n\n\"You have to get the emperor out of here,\" Jennsen said. \"This isn't the simple thing it appeared.\"\n\n\"I'd say it was a trap of some kind. But we might still be able to carryout our objective. That would make it a success-make it worth it.\"\n\nWhatever was happening was outside her experience and beyond her ability to comprehend. Jennsen only knew that she intended to carryout her objective. As they raced down halls, chasing the sounds and following the trail of bodies, they worked their way deeper into the mysterious Confessors' Palace, away from any outside windows to where the air was hushed and gloomy. The deep shadows in the halls and rooms, where little light penetrated, added a frightening new dimension to the terrifying events." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jennsen was well past shock, horror, or even fear. She felt as if she were watching herself act. Even her own voice sounded remote to her. In some distant way, she marveled at the things she did, at her ability to carry on.\n\nAs they cautiously rounded an intersection, they encountered a few dozen soldiers hunched in the shadows just inside a small room bloodied, but alive. Four Sisters were there, too. Jennsen spotted Emperor Jagang leaning against a wall as he panted, his sword gripped tightly in a bloody fist. As she rushed up, he met her gaze, his black eyes filled not with the fear or sorrow she expected but with rage and determination.\n\n\"We're close, girl. Keep that knife out and you'll get your chance.\"\n\nSebastian moved off to check other doorways, securing the immediate area, several men moving at his direction when he gave them silent hand signals.\n\nShe could hardly believe what she was hearing, or seeing. \"Emperor, you have to get out of here.\"\n\nHe frowned at her. \"Are you out of your mind?\"\n\n\"We're being cut to pieces! There are dead soldiers everywhere. I saw Sisters back there, ripped open by something-\"\n\n\"Magic,\" he said with a wicked grin.\n\nShe blinked at that grin. \"Excellency, you have to get out of here before they have you, too.\"\n\nHis grin vanished, replaced by red-faced anger. \"This is a war! What do you think war is? War is killing. They've been doing it, and I intend to do it back twice over! If you don't have the guts to use that knife, then put your tail between your legs and run for the hills! But don't ever ask me to help you again.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jennsen stood her ground. \"I'll not run. I'm here fora reason. I only wanted you out of here so the Order would not lose you, too, after they've already lost Brother Narev.\"\n\nHe huffed in disgust. \"Touching.\" He turned to his men, checking that they were paying attention. \"Half take the room on the right, just ahead. The rest stay with me. I want them flushed out into the open.\" He swept his sword before the faces of the four Sisters. \"Two with them, two with me. Don't disappoint me, now.\"\n\nWith that, the men and Sisters split up and quickly moved off, half through the room at the right, half charging after the emperor. Sebastian gestured urgently for her. Jennsen joined him, running at his side, as they raced out into the smoky hall after the emperor.\n\n\"There he is!\" she heard Jagang call from up ahead. \"Here! This way! Here!\"\n\nAnd then there was a thunderous blast so violent it took Jennsen's feet from under her, sending her sprawling. The hall was suddenly filled with fire and fragments of every sort rebounding off the walls as it all came flying toward them. Snatching her arm, Sebastian yanked her up and into a recessed doorway just in time to miss the bulk of the flying objects that came careening past.\n\nMen up the hall let out screams of mortal pain. Such unbridled wails sent shivers up Jennsen's spine. Following Sebastian, Jennsen ran through thick smoke, toward the screams. The dark, in addition to the smoke, made it difficult to see very far, but they soon encountered bodies. Beyond the dead, there were still some men alive, but it was clear by the ghastly nature of their wounds that they would not livelong. The last moments of their lives were to be spent in horrifying agony. Jennsen and Sebastian scrambled past the dying, through the carnage and rubble piled knee-deep from wall to wall, looking for Emperor Jagang." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There, among the splintered wood, leaning boards, overturned chairs and tables, glass shards, and fallen plaster, they spotted him. Jagang's thigh was laid open to the bone. A Sister stood beside him, her back pressed to the wall. A huge, splintered oak board had been driven through her just below her breastbone, pinning her to the wall. She was still alive, but it was evident that there was nothing to be done for her.\n\n\"Dear Creator forgive me. Dear Creator forgive me,\" she whispered over and over through quivering lips. Her eyes turned to watch them approach. \"Please,\" she whispered, blood frothing from her nose, \"please, help me.\"\n\nShe had been close to the emperor. She had probably shielded him with her gift, deflecting whatever power had been unleashed, and saved his life. Now she was shivering in mortal agony.\n\nSebastian lifted something from under his cloak, behind his back. With a mighty swing, he brought his axe around. The blade slammed into the wall with resounding thunk, and stuck. The Sister's head tumbled down, bouncing through the dusty rubble.\n\nSebastian yanked once, freeing his axe. Ashe replaced it in the hanger at the small of his back, he turned and came face-to-face with Jennsen. She could only stare in horror into his icy blue eyes.\n\n\"If it were you,\" he said, \"would you want me to let you endure such suffering?\"\n\nTrembling uncontrollably, unable to answer him, Jennsen turned away and fell to her knees beside Emperor Jagang. She imagined he had to be in frightening pain, but he hardly seemed to notice the gaping wound, except that he knew his leg wouldn't work. He held the two sides of the wound closed as best he could with one hand, but he was still losing a lot of blood. With his other hand, he had managed to drag himself to the side, where he leaned against the wall. Jennsen was no healer, and didn't really know what to do, but she did realize the urgent need to do something to stop the gushing blood." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His face streaked with sweat and soot, Jagang pointed with his sword down aside hall. \"Sebastian, it's her! She was just right here. I almost had her. Don't let her getaway!\"\n\nAnother Sister, wearing a dusty brown wool dress, came clambering over the rubble, stumbling toward them in the darkness, passing all the groaning soldiers. \"Excellency! I heard you! I'm here. I'm here. I can help.\"\n\nJagang nodded his acknowledgment, one hand resting on his heaving chest. \"Sebastian--don't let her getaway. Move!\"\n\n\"Yes, Excellency.\" Sebastian took note of the Sister climbing awkwardly over a broken side table, then pressed a hand to Jennsen's shoulder. \"Stay herewith them. She'll protect you and the emperor. I'll be back.\"\n\nJennsen snatched for his sleeve, but he had already dashed away, collecting all the remaining men on his way past. He led them off down the hall, disappearing into the darkness. Jennsen was suddenly alone with the wounded emperor, a Sister of the Light, and the voice.\n\nShe snatched up the end of a strip of a sheer curtain and pulled it out from under the rubble. \"You're losing a lot of blood. I need to close this as best I can.\" She looked up into Emperor Jagang's nightmare eyes. \"Can you help hold it closed while I wrap it?\"\n\nHe grinned. Sweat coursed down his face, leaving streaks through the dusty grime. \"It doesn't hurt, girl. Do it. I've had worse than this. Be quick about it.\"\n\nJennsen started threading the filthy curtain under his leg, wrapping it around and under again as Jagang held the gaping wound closed as best he could. The fine fabric almost immediately turned from white to red with all the thick blood flowing across it. The sister put a hand to Jennsen's shoulder as she knelt down to help. As Jennsen continued wrapping, the Sister laid her hands flat on each side of the massive gash in the meat of his thigh." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jagang cried out in pain.\n\n\"I'm sorry, Excellency,\" the Sister said. \"I have to stop the bleeding or you'll bleed to death.\"\n\n\"Do it, then, you stupid bitch! Don't talk me to death!\"\n\nThe Sister nodded tearfully, clearly terrified by what she was doing, yet knowing she had no choice but to do it. She closed her eyes and once more pressed trembling hands to Jagang's hairy, blood-soaked leg. Jennsen pulled back to give her room to work, watching in the dim light as the woman apparently wove magic into the emperor's wound.\n\nThere was nothing to see, at first. Jagang gritted his teeth, grunting in pain as the Sister's magic began to do its work. Jennsen watched, spellbound, as the gift was actually being used to help someone, instead of cause suffering. She wondered briefly if the Imperial Order believed that even this magic, used to save the life of the emperor, was evil. In the murky light, Jennsen saw the blood pumping copiously from the wound abruptly slow to an oozing trickle.\n\nJennsen leaned closer, frowning, trying to see in the shadows, as the Sister, now that the bleeding was nearly stopped, moved her hands, probably to start the work of closing the emperor's terrible wound. Leaning close as she watched, Jennsen heard Jagang suddenly whisper.\n\n\"There he is.\" Jennsen looked up. He was staring off down the hall. \"Richard Rahl. Jennsen-there he is. It's him.\"\n\nJennsen followed Emperor Jagang's gaze, her knife gripped in her fist. It was dark in the hallway, but there was smoky light down at the far end, silhouetting the figure standing in the distance, watching them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He lifted his arms. Between his outstretched hands, fire sprang to life. It wasn't fire like real fire, like the fire in a hearth, but fire like that out of a dream. It was there, but somehow not there; real, but at the same time unreal. Jennsen felt as if she were standing in a borderland between two worlds, the world that existed, and the world of the fantastic.\n\nYet, the lethal danger that the wavering flame represented was all too clear.\n\nFrozen in dread, squatted down beside Emperor Jagang, Jennsen could only stare as the figure at the end of the hall lifted his hands, lifted the slowly turning ball of blue and yellow flame. Between those steady hands, the rotating flame expanded, to look frighteningly purposeful. Jennsen knew that she was seeing the manifestation of deadly intent.\n\nAnd then he cast that implacable inferno out toward them.\n\nJagang had said that it was Richard Rahl down at the end of the hall. She could see only a silhouetted figure casting out from his hands that awful fire. Oddly enough, even though the flame illuminated the walls, it left its creator in shadow.\n\nThe sphere of seething flame expanded as it flew toward them with ever-gathering speed. The liquid blue and yellow flame looked as if it burned with living intent.\n\nYet, it was, in some strange way, nothing, too.\n\n\"Wizard's fire!\" the Sister shrieked as she sprang up. \"Dear Creator! No!\"\n\nThe Sister ran down the dark hall, toward the approaching flame. With wild abandon, she threw her arms up, palms toward the approaching fire, as if she were casting some magic shield to protect them, yet Jennsen could see nothing." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The fire grew as it shot toward them, illuminating the walls, ceiling, and debris as it wailed past. The Sister cast out her hands again.\n\nThe fire struck the woman with a jarring thud, silhouetting her against a flare of intense yellow light so bright that Jennsen threw an arm up before her face. Ina heartbeat, the flame enveloped the woman, smothering her scream, consuming her in a blinding instant. Blue heat wavered as the fire swirled a moment in midair, then winked out, leaving behind only a wisp of smoke to hang in the hall, along with the smell of burnt flesh. Jennsen stared, thunderstruck by what she had just seen, by a life so cruelly snuffed out.\n\nOff down at the end of the hall, Lord Rahl again conjured a ball of the terrible wizard's fire, nursing it between his hands, urging it to grow and expand. Again he cast it outward from lifted arms.\n\nJennsen didn't know what to do. Her legs wouldn't move. She knew she couldn't outrun such a thing.\n\nThe howling sphere of roiling flame tumbled down the hall, wailing toward them, expanding as it came, illuminating the walls it passed, until the burning death spanned from wall to wall, from floor to ceiling, leaving no place to hide.\n\nLord Rahl started away, leaving them to their fate, as death roared down on Jennsen and Emperor Jagang." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The sound was horrifying. The sight of it was paralyzing.\n\nThis was a weapon conjured for no reason but to kill. This was deadly magic. Lord Rahl's magic.\n\nThis time, there was no Sister of the Light to intercept it.\n\nMagic. Lord Rahl's magic. There, but not.\n\nIn the last instant before it was on her, Jennsen knew what she had to do. She threw herself over Emperor Jagang. In that fraction of a second before the fire was upon her, she covered him with her body where he lay at the edge of the floor against the wall, protecting him as she would a child.\n\nEven through her tightly closed eyes, she could seethe brilliant light. She could hear the terrible wail of the tumbling flames howling around her.\n\nBut Jennsen felt nothing.\n\nShe heard it roaring past her, thundering off down the hall. She opened one eye to peek out. At the end of the corridor, the orb of living fire exploded through the wall, coming apart in a shower of liquid flame, sending a hail of blazing wood out onto the lawn far below.\n\nWith the wall gone, the hall was better lit. Jennsen pushed herself up.\n\n\"Emperor-are you alive?\" she whispered.\n\n\"Thanks to you. He sounded stunned.\" What did you do? How could you not-\"\n\n\"Hush,\" she whispered urgently. \"Stay down, or he'll see you.\"\n\nThere was no time to waste. It had to be ended. Jennsen sprang up and ran down the hall, knife in hand. She could now seethe man standing therein the smoky light at the end of the hall. He had stopped and turned to stare back at her. As she raced toward him, she realized that it couldn't be her half brother. This was an old man, a collection of bones in dark maroon and black robes with silver bands at the cuff of the sleeves. Wavy white hair stuck out in disarray, but did not diminish his air of authority." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Yet he stared in shock at seeing her racing toward him, as if hardly believing it, hardly believing she had survived his wizard's fire. She was a hole in the world to him. She could see understanding flooding his hazel eyes.\n\nDespite his kindly look, this was a man who had just killed countless people. This was a man doing Lord Rahl's bidding. This was a man who would kill more people unless stopped. He was a wizard, a monster. She had to stop him.\n\nJennsen held her knife high. She was almost there. She heard herself screaming in rage, like the battle cries she had heard from the soldiers, as she plunged forward. She understood those battle cries, now. She wanted his blood.\n\n\"No...\" the old man called to her. \"Child, you don't understand what you're doing. We don't have time-l don't have a moment to spare! Stop! I can't delay! Let me-\"\n\nHis words were no more to her than those of the voice. She ran through the rubble littering the hall as fast as her legs would carry her, feeling the same sense of wild but deliberate fury she had in her house, when the men had attacked her mother, and then her-that same fierce commitment.\n\nJennsen knew what she had to do, and knew she was the one to do it.\n\nShe was invincible.\n\nBefore she reached him, he cast one handout toward her, but lower than he had before. This time, no fire erupted. She didn't care if it did. She would not be stopped. She could not be stopped. She was invincible.\n\nWhatever he did caused the debris at her feet to suddenly shift, as if he'd given the whole lot of it a mighty shove. Before she could jump clear, one foot tangled in the debris, breaking through the jumble of broken plaster and lath. Rumpled carpeting and wreckage of furniture ensnared her ankle. With a surprised gasp, Jennsen pitched violently forward. Pieces of wood and plaster flipped dust and debris up in the air as she crashed to the floor. Her face hit hard, stunning her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Small chunks and scraps rained down on her back. Dust slowly rolled away. Her face stung with dizzyingly intense pain.\n\nJennsen listened to the voice calling to her to getup, to keep moving. But her vision had narrowed down to a tiny spot, as if she were looking through a soft fuzzy tube. The world looked dreamlike through that tunnel of sight. She lay still, breathing the settling dust until it coated her throat, unable even to cough.\n\nGroaning, Jennsen was at last able to push herself up. Her vision was rapidly returning. She began coughing, hacking, trying to clear her windpipe of the choking dust. Her leg was jammed down among the tangle of debris. She was finally able to pry aboard to the side, giving her room to pull her foot free. Fortunately, her boot had prevented the splintered wood from slicing her leg.\n\nJennsen realized her hands were empty. Her knife was gone. On her hands and knees, she rummaged madly through the wreckage of wood, plaster, and tangled fabric of draperies, throwing things aside, searching for her knife. She thrust her arm under a nearby overturned table, groping blindly.\n\nWith the tips of her fingers, she felt something smooth. She groped along it until she touched the ornately engraved letter'R.\" Grunting with the effort, she shouldered the leg of the overturned table until the whole mess grated as it moved a little. At last, she was able to reach in far enough to pull her knife free.\n\nWhen Jennsen was finally able to scramble to her feet, the man was long gone. She went after him anyway. When she reached the intersection of passageways, a quick look revealed only empty halls. She ran down the corridor she thought he had taken, looking in rooms, searching alcoves, making her way ever deeper into the murky palace." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She could hear people in the distance, soldiers, yelling for others to follow them. She listened for Sebastian's voice, but didn't hear him. She heard, too, the sound of magic being unleashed, like the crack of lightning, only indoors. It sometimes shook the entire palace. Sometimes, too, the screams of dying men could be heard.\n\nJennsen chased after the sounds, trying to find the man who had loosed the wizard's fire, but found only more empty rooms and passageways.\n\nSome places were littered with dead soldiers. She couldn't tell if they had been therefrom the first, or had been left in the wake of the fleeing wizard. Jennsen heard the sound of running soldiers, their boots rumbling through corridors. And then, she heard Sebastian's voice call out, \"That way! It's her!\"\n\nJennsen raced for an intersection and turned down a hall running off in the direction she had heard Sebastian's voice. Her footfalls were muted by along green carpet with gold fringe running the length of a grand corridor. It was all the more startlingly beautiful after coming out of ruined areas. A window overhead lit the variegated brown-and-white marble columns that supported arches to each side, like silent sentinels watching her race by.\n\nThe palace was amaze of corridors and exquisite chambers. Some of the rooms Jennsen cut through were lavishly furnished in muted tones, while yet others were decorated with carpets, chairs, and draperies in a riot of colors. She dimly noted that the grand sights were astoundingly beautiful as she concentrated on not getting lost. She imagined the place as avast forest, and noted landmarks along the way so as to find her way back. She had to help get Emperor Jagang to safety.\n\nRacing down the wide passageway lined with granite recesses in the walls to each side, each holding a delicate object of one kind or another, Jennsen burst through double gold-bound doors into an enormous chamber. The sound of the doors rebounding echoed back from the room beyond. The size of place, the splendor of the sight, caught her up short. Overhead, rich paintings of figures in robes swept across the inside of the huge dome. Below the majestic figures a ring of round windows let in ample light. A semicircular dais sat off to the side, along with chairs behind an imposing carved desk. Arched openings around the room covered stairways up to curving balconies edged with sinuous, polished mahogany railings." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jennsen knew by the imposing architecture that this must be the place from where the Mother Confessor ruled the Midlands. All the seating up in the balconies must have provided visitors or dignitaries a view of the proceedings.\n\nJennsen saw someone making their way among the columns on the other side of the chamber. Just then, Sebastian burst through another door not far to Jennsen's right. A company of soldiers funneled through the doors after him.\n\nSebastian lifted his sword, pointing. \"There she is!\" He was nearly out of breath. Rage flashed in his blue eyes.\n\n\"Sebastian!\" Jennsen ran to his side. \"We have to get out of here. We need to get the emperor to safety. A wizard came and the Sister was killed. He's alone. Hurry.\"\n\nThe men were fanning out, a jangling dark mass clad in chain mail and armor and gleaming weapons spreading around the edge of the vast chamber like wolves stalking a fawn.\n\nSebastian heatedly pointed his sword across the room. \"Not until I have her. Jagang will at last have the Mother Confessor.\"\n\nJennsen peered off to where he pointed and saw, then, the tall woman across the room. She wore simple, coarsely woven flaxen robes decorated at the neck with a bit of red and yellow. Her black and gray hair was parted in the middle and cut square with her strong jaw.\n\n\"The Mother Confessor,\" Sebastian whispered, transfixed by the sight of her.\n\nJennsen frowned back at him. \"Mother Confessor... \"Jennsen couldn't envision the Lord Rahl wedding a woman as old as his great-grandmother.\" Sebastian, what do you see?\"\n\nHe flashed a smug look. \"The Mother Confessor.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What does she look like? What's she wearing?\"\n\n\"She's wearing that white dress of hers.\" His heated expression was back. \"How can you miss her?\"\n\n\"She's a beautiful bitch,\" a soldier on the other side of Sebastian said with a grin, unable to take his eyes from the woman across the room. \"But the emperor will be the one to have her.\"\n\nThe rest of the men, too, started across the room with that same disturbing, lecherous look. Jennsen seized Sebastian by the arm and yanked him around.\n\n\"No!\" she whispered harshly. \"Sebastian, it's not her.\"\n\n\"Are you out of your mind?\" he asked as he glared at her. \"Do you think I don't know what the Mother Confessor looks like?\"\n\n\"I've seen her before,\" the soldier beside him said. \"That's her all right.\"\n\n\"No, it's not,\" Jennsen whispered insistently, all the while tugging at Sebastian's arm, trying to get him to pullback. \"It must be a spell or something. Sebastian, it's an old woman. This whole thing is going terribly wrong. We have to get out-\"\n\nThe soldier on the other side of Sebastian grunted. His sword clattered to the marble floor as he clutched his chest. He toppled, like a tree that had been felled, and crashed to the floor. Another soldier, then another, then another fell. Thump, thump, thump they hit the floor. Jennsen put herself in front of Sebastian, throwing her arms around him to protect him.\n\nThe room exploded with a blinding flash of lightning. The sizzling arc twisted through the air, yet it unfailingly found its mark, raking down the line of men running out around the edge of the room, cutting them down in an instant. Jennsen looked over her shoulder and saw the old woman cast a handout to the other side, toward men, and a Sister, charging across the room straight toward her. The soldiers, struck down by an invisible power, dropped in their tracks, one at a time. Their heavy crumpled bodies slid across the slick floor a short distance when they collapsed in midstride." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Sister cast out her hands, Jennsen assumed to protect herself with magic of some kind, although she could see nothing of it. But when the Sister again thrust out an arm, Jennsen not only saw but could hear light forming at the tips of her fingers.\n\nWith all the soldiers down-all but Sebastian dead-the old sorceress turned her full attention on the attacking Sister. With weathered hands, the old woman warded the attack, sending the thrumming light back on the Sister.\n\n\"You know you have but to swear allegiance, Sister,\" the old woman said in a raspy voice, \"and you will be free of the dream walker.\"\n\nJennsen didn't understand, but the Sister surely did. \"It won't work! I'll not risk such agony! May the Creator forgive me, but it will be easier for us all if I kill you.\"\n\n\"If that be your choice,\" the old woman rasped, \"then so be it.\"\n\nThe younger woman started to cast her magic again, but fell to the floor with a sudden cry. She clawed at the smooth marble, trying to whisper prayers between grunts of terrible agony. She left a smear of blood on the marble, but before getting far, she stilled. Her head sank to the floor as she expelled one long last rattling breath.\n\nKnife in hand, Jennsen ran for the murderous old woman. Sebastian followed, but had taken only a few steps when the woman wheeled and cast a shimmering light at him just as Jennsen stepped into her line of sight. Only that prevented the streak of glimmering light from hitting him square. The light glanced off his side in a shower of sparks. Sebastian fell with a cry.\n\n\"No! Sebastian!\" Jennsen started for him. He pressed his hands to the side of his ribs, clearly in pain. If hurt, at least he was alive." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jennsen swung back to the old woman. She stood immobile, her head cocked, listening. There was confusion in her manner, and a curious kind of awkward helplessness.\n\nThe sorceress wasn't looking at her, but instead had an ear turned to her. Being a little closer, now, Jennsen noticed for the first time that the old woman had completely white eyes. Jennsen stared, at first from surprise, and then with sudden recognition.\n\n\"Adie?\" she breathed, not having intended to say it aloud.\n\nStartled, the woman cocked her head the other way, listening with her other ear. \"Who be there?\" the raspy voice demanded. \"Who be there?\"\n\nJennsen didn't answer, for fear of giving away her exact location. The room had gone silent. Worry wore heavily on the old sorceress's weathered face. But determination, too, set her jaw as her hand lifted.\n\nJennsen gripped her knife in her fist, not knowing what to do. If this really was Adie, the woman Althea had told her about, then, according to Althea, she would be completely blind to Jennsen. But she was not blind to Sebastian. Jennsen crept a step closer.\n\nThe old woman's head turned to the sound. \"Child? Do you be a sister of Richard? Why would you be with the Order?\"\n\n\"Maybe because I want to live!\"\n\n\"No.\" The woman shook her head with stem disapproval. \"No. If you be with the Order, then you have chosen death, not life.\"\n\n\"You're the only one intent on bringing death!\"\n\n\"That be a lie. All of you came tome with weapons and murderous intent,\" she said. \"I did not come to you.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Of course! Because you defile the world with your taint of magic!\" Sebastian called from behind. \"You would smother mankind-enslave us all-with your wicked ancient ways!\"\n\n\"Ah,\" Adie said, nodding to herself. \"It be you, then, who has deluded this child.\"\n\n\"He's saved my life! Without Sebastian I would be nothing! I would have nothing! I would be dead! Just like my mother!\"\n\n\"Child,\" Adie said in a quiet rasp, \"that, too, be a lie. Come away from them. Come with me.\"\n\n\"You'd love that, wouldn't you!\" Jennsen shrieked. \"My mother died in my arms because of your Lord Rahl. I know the truth. The truth is that you'd love to deliver the prize plum to Lord Rahl, at last.\"\n\nAdie shook her head. \"Child, I don't know what lies be filling your head, but I do not have the time for this. You must come away with me, or I cannot help you. I cannot wait a moment longer. Time be in short supply and I have used all I have.\"\n\nAs the woman spoke, Jennsen used the opportunity to take small quiet steps forward. She had to take this chance to end the threat. She knew she could take this woman out. If it was only a matter of muscle and skill with a knife, then Jennsen would have the distinct advantage. A sorceress's magic was useless against someone who was invincible-against a pillar of Creation.\n\n\"Jenn, take her! You can do it! Avenge your mother!\"\n\nJennsen was still only a quarter of the distance from Sebastian to Adie. Knife held tight, she took another step." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"If that be your choice,\" Adie rasped at hearing the whisper of the footstep, \"then so be it.\"\n\nWhen the sorceress lifted her handout toward Sebastian, Jennsen realized with horror what she meant: the price of her choice was that Sebastian would be forfeit." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sebastian was on the floor, not faraway, leaning to the side, propping himself upon one arm. Jennsen saw blood on the marble floor under him. Since Adie couldn't stop Jennsen, she intended to finish him as the price. The appalling reality of seeing Sebastian in pain, of knowing he was about to be murdered, shook Jennsen to her very soul.\n\nSebastian was all she had.\n\nThe sorceress was but a blink away from loosing lethal magic on him. Jennsen was a great deal closer to Sebastian than to the sorceress. Jennsen knew she would never reach the sorceress in time to stop her, but she might make it to Sebastian in time to protect him. She could only kill the sorceress if she were willing to forfeit Sebastian to do it. That was the choice Adie had given her.\n\nJennsen abandoned her attack and instead dove for Sebastian, putting herself in the woman's line of sight, making a hole in the world where she was trying to aim her terrible conjured fire. The magic the sorceress loosed missed Sebastian, raking crackling lightning across the polished marble floor, ripping it up in a line right beside him. The air was filled with a burst of flying stone shards.\n\nJennsen scooped Sebastian protectively into her arms as she fell to his side. \" Sebastian! Can you move? Can you run? We have to get out of here.\n\nHe nodded. \"Help me up.\" His voice was labored, his breathing shallow.\n\nJennsen ducked her head under his arm and strained with the effort of lifting him to his feet. With her help, they hurriedly worked their way toward the door. Behind, Adie lifted her hands again, her white eyes tracking Sebastian's movements, if not Jennsen's. Jennsen twisted sideways, putting herself in the way. A blast of lightning laced past, missing them by inches, blowing the heavy metal-clad door off its hinges. The door went skittering down the hall." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jennsen and Sebastian scuttled through the smoking opening and hastened down the wide hall. Jennsen realized, as she watched the heavy doors crashing down the hall, bouncing off walls, tearing out great chunks of stone, that if something like that hither, she would be crushed. She noticed, too, that her arm was bleeding from small cuts from the stone shards that had struck her. It wasn't magic that had done it, but sharp stone, even if the sharp stone had been sent flying by magic.\n\nShe might be in someways invincible, but if magic toppled a massive stone column on her, she would be just as dead as if it had been pushed over by brute strength instead. Dead was dead.\n\nJennsen suddenly didn't feel so invincible.\n\nAt the first intersection, she took them to the right, getting Sebastian out of the line of sight of Adie's gift, and her weapons of magic, as quickly as possible. Jennsen could feel his warm blood running over the arm she had around him. Despite his injury, Sebastian didn't ask her to slow to spare him any pain. Together, they rushed through halls and rooms as fast as he was able, crossing the palace, going back toward where Jennsen had left the emperor.\n\n\"Are you hurt bad?\" she asked, fearing the answer.\n\n\"Not sure,\" he said, nearly out of breath and clearly in pain. \"Feels like there's afire burning in my ribs. If you wouldn't have prevented her from hitting me square on, I'd be dead for sure.\"\n\nAs they moved through the palace, they came across a squad of their men. Jennsen collapsed next to them, panting, exhausted, unable to hold Sebastian up another step. Her leg muscles trembled from the exertion." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We're leaving,\" Sebastian told the men, his breathing labored with pain. \"We have to get out. The emperor is hurt. We have to get him out of here.\" He motioned indifferent directions. \"Some of you go each way. Collect all our men. We need to get everyone we canto protect the emperor and then we have to get him back to safety. You two, you'll have to help me.\"\n\nThe bulk of the men immediately rushed off to their tasks. The two remaining behind threw Sebastian's arms over their shoulders and easily lifted him. He winced in pain. Jennsen led them through the palace, watching for the landmarks she remembered, desperate to reach Emperor Jagang and to get out of the deathtrap of a palace.\n\nThe Confessors'Palace was a confusion of halls, passageways, and rooms. Some of the rooms were huge, but when they came to such places, they went around, staying to the maze of passageways; Sebastian said they didn't want to be caught in one of those big rooms where they would bean easier target. Intermittently, Jennsen heard the awful thump of magic. Each time, the entire palace shuddered with the concussion.\n\n\"This way,\" she said, recognizing the yawning breach in the wall at the corner of a passageway strewn with rubble. That gaping hole through the outer wall, looking out to daylight and overlooking the lawns far below, was where the wizard's fire, meant for her and Emperor Jagang, had blasted through.\n\nFive soldiers made their way down the hall from the other direction, climbing over the tangled debris, bringing a Sister of the Light with them. From behind, nearly a dozen more men appeared. Two Sisters, their faces streaked with soot, came through a nearby room to the side, followed by yet more of the assault force. Half the men were bleeding, but all of them were able to move under their own power." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Emperor Jagang was sitting up against the wall where Jennsen had left him. The deep jagged gash was partly being held together by the curtain Jennsen had wrapped around his leg, but the meat of his muscle wasn't aligned properly and the terrible wound clearly needed attention. It appeared that the healing magic performed by the Sister, just before she had been killed, still held, and at least the emperor wasn't still losing blood the way he had been.\n\nThe blood the emperor had lost left him weak-looking and pale, but not as pale as the faces of those who for the first time saw the seriousness of his injury.\n\nOne of the Sisters knelt down to check his wound. Jagang winced when she tried to better align the two halves of his split leg.\n\n\"There's no time to heal it now,\" she said. \"We'll need to get him to safety, first.\"\n\nShe immediately set to tightening the bandage of blood-soaked curtain that Jennsen had started to apply. She snatched up more cloth from the rubble.\n\n\"Did you get her?\" Jagang asked as the Sister worked at pulling the injury closed with the filthy strip of cloth. \"Where is she? Sebastian!\" He used aboard to lever himself upright, peering this way and that around the company of soldiers as they helped Sebastian make his way through to the emperor. \"There you are. Where's the Mother Confessor? Did you get her?\"\n\n\"It isn't her,\" Jennsen answered in his place.\n\n\"What?\" The emperor glanced around angrily at the people watching him. \"I saw the bitch. I know the Mother Confessor when I see her! Why didn't you get her!\"\n\n\"You saw a wizard and a sorceress,\" Jennsen told him. \"They were using magic to make you think you were seeing Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor. It was a trick.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I think she's right,\" Sebastian put in before Jagang could scream at her." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I was standing right beside her and while I saw the Mother Confessor, Jennsen didn't.\"\n\nJagang turned a dark scowl on her. \"But if the others saw her, how could you not...\"\n\nUnderstanding seemed to come over him. For some reason that Jennsen couldn't exactly fathom, he suddenly recognized the truth in her words.\n\n\"But why?\" the Sister tending the emperor's injury asked, looking up from her work of bandaging the wound.\n\n\"Both the wizard and the sorceress seemed to be in a hurry,\" Jennsen said. \"They must be up to something.\"\n\n\"It's a diversion,\" Jagang whispered, staring off down the empty hall littered with rubble. \"They wanted to keep us occupied. Keep us away, and busy thinking about something else.\"\n\n\"Keep us away from what?\" Jennsen asked.\n\n\"The main force,\" Sebastian said, catching Jagang's line of thought.\n\nAnother Sister, casting surreptitious glances to the other Sisters after inspecting Sebastian's wound, worked quickly at pressing a padded bandage against his ribs and then wrapping along strip of cloth around his chest to hold it in place.\n\n\"This will only help fora short time,\" she muttered, half to herself. \"This is not good.\" She glanced again to the other Sister. \"We're going to need to tend to this. We can't do it here.\"\n\nSebastian winced in pain, ignoring her, then spoke. \"It's a trick. They keep us here, puzzling over where they could be, kept us chasing after illusions, while they attack our main force.\"\n\nJagang growled a curse. He looked off out the hole the wizard's fire had blasted in the wall, peering out toward the army they had left along ride back down the river valley. He clenched his fist and gritted his teeth." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That bitch! They wanted us busy so our main force would be sitting in place while they attack. That filthy scheming bitch! We have to get back!\"\n\nThe small force moved quickly through the halls. Jagang was carried with a man under each arm, as was Sebastian, so that they could make quick progress back out of the Confessors' Palace. Sebastian was looking worse.\n\nAlong the way, they gathered up more of their men. Jennsen was astounded that there were still any others alive. Compared with the force they had come in with, though, they had been cut to pieces. Had they all stayed together, rather than the way the emperor and Sebastian continually divided them up, they might have all been killed at once. As it was, the Order would still have to leave behind a great many dead.\n\nOnce on the lower level, they worked their way along service halls, toward the side of the palace, Sebastian advising that it would be best not to go out by the main entrance, where they had entered, for fear that such a move might be expected and they very well could be struck down before they could getaway. Everyone moved as silently as possible through the empty kitchens, emerging to a gray day in aside courtyard. It was secluded, with a wall screening it off from the city.\n\nThe sight as they came around the side of the palace was horrifying. It looked like the entire force had been cut down, that none of the cavalry could possibly still be alive. Jennsen couldn't stand the sight of so much carnage, yet it was so overwhelming that she could not look away. The dead, horses as well as men, lay tangled in a ragged line down the hillside, fallen in the place where they met the foe head-on at a full charge. In the distance, near the trees, a few scattered horses, their riders no doubt dead, nibbled at the grass." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"There are no enemy dead,\" Jagang said, surveying the sight as he limped along with the aid of a pike a soldier had handed him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What could have done this?\"\n\n\"Nothing living,\" a Sister said.\n\nAs they moved quickly down the hill, making their way past the silent battle line, not far in front of the heaps of corpses, others of the cavalry, far down the slope on the other side of a wall in an area among small garden buildings and trees, spotted the emperor and raced out to protect him. Soldiers on horseback-numbering less than a thousand out of the over forty thousand they started with-swept into surround the company returning from the palace. A number of the Sisters rode in, pulling in close to the emperor to provide an inner circle of defense.\n\nRusty, trailed by Pete, trotted across the lawns, accompanying the tattered remnants of the cavalry. When Jennsen whistled, Rusty recognized the call and rushed into be close to her. The mare, nuzzling Jennsen's shoulder, voiced a plaintive whinny, eager for comfort. Rusty and Pete weren't cavalry horses, trained to be accustomed to the terrors of war. Jennsen ran a soothing handover the horse's trembling neck and rubbed her ears. She gave similar comfort to Pete when he pressed his forehead against the back of her shoulder.\n\n\"What happened!\" Jagang called out in a rage. \"How could you let yourselves betaken like this?\"\n\nThe officer leading the men on horseback looked around in dismay. \"Excellency, it was... out of the clear air. It wasn't anything we could fight.\"\n\n\"Are you trying to tell me it was ghosts!\" Jagang bellowed.\n\n\"I think it was the horses the scout smelled,\" another officer said. His arm was bandaged up high but soaked in blood.\n\n\"I want to know what's going on,\" Jagang said as he glared around at the faces watching him. \"How could this have happened?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As men brought extra horses, Sister Perdita dismounted close by. \"Excellency, it was some kind of attack involving magic-phantom horsemen invoked by wizardry is the only explanation I have.\"\n\nHis menacing eyes were leveled at her in away that made even Jennsen quail. \"Then why didn't you and your Sisters stop it?\"\n\n\"It wasn't anything like the conjured magic we ordinarily encounter. I believe it had to be a form of constructed magic, or we would have not only detected it, but been able to stop it. At least, that's what I assume. I've never actually seen any constructed magic, but I've heard of it. Whatever this was that attacked us would not respond to anything we tried.\"\n\nThe emperor was still frowning darkly at her. \"Magic is magic. You should have stopped it. That's what you were here for.\"\n\n\"Constructed magic is different than conjured, Excellency.\"\n\n\"Different? How?\"\n\n\"Rather than using the gift on the spot, constructed magic has already been made up in advance. It can be preserved fora great period of time, thousands of years, maybe even forever. When it's needed, the spell is triggered and the magic is loosed.\"\n\n\"Triggered by what?\" Sebastian asked.\n\nSister Perdita shook her head in frustration. \"By just about anything, as I've heard it told. It just depends on how it was constructed. No wizard now is able to construct such a spell. We know little about those ancient wizards or what they could do, but from what little we do know, a constructed spell could be something kept dry that comes to life when you get it wet-for example something to help fertilize crops when the spring rains come. It could be triggered by heating, like a cure taken fora fever the cure carries a construction in and the fever triggers it. Others are triggered by a little magic, some by an elaborate application of incredibly intricate wizardry and great power.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"So,\" Jennsen reasoned, \"someone with magic must have unleashed something so powerful as these phantom horsemen?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A wizard, or a sorceress, or something?\"\n\nSister Perdita shook her head. \"It could be that kind of constructed magic, but it could just as easily be a spell-albeit an incredibly powerful one-kept in a thimble, and triggered by exposing the construction to... anything-horse dung, even.\"\n\nEmperor Jagang waved off the very notion. \"But something that small and easily triggered wouldn't be this powerful.\"\n\n\"Excellency,\" the Sister said, \"in this, you can't equate the apparent material size of the construction or its trigger with the result-they have no relational value, at least not in the terms in which most people think. The trigger has no bearing on the power of the construction. Even the construction and its trigger are not necessarily relational. There is simply no rule by which to judge a construction.\"\n\nThe emperor swept an arm out before the tens of thousands of men and horses tangled in death. \"But, surely, something of this magnitude had to have been something more.\"\n\n\"The army of phantom horsemen who carried out this attack might have been triggered by a wizard drawing spells in magic dust while speaking an incredibly complex invocation, or it could just as easily have been a book containing a cavalry counter that is simply opened to the proper page and held out before the attacking force-even from miles away. Even the simple fear of a person holding out such a construction could be the trigger.\"\n\n\"You mean, anyone might accidentally trigger one, then?\" Jennsen asked.\n\n\"Of course. That's what makes them so dangerous. But from what I've read, that kind is exceedingly rare. Because they can be so dangerous, most are layered in complex precautions and fail-safe mechanisms involving the most profound knowledge of the application of magic.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But,\" Jennsen asked, \"once a person-a wizard-with that advanced knowledge removes those layers of precautions and fail-safe mechanisms, then they might beset off by one final, simple trigger?\"\n\nSister Perdita gave Jennsen a meaningful look. \"Exactly.\"\n\n\"So,\" Jagang said, gesturing around at the thousands of bodies, \"this force of phantom cavalry might be sent out again at any moment to finish us off.\"\n\nThe Sister shook her head. \"As I understand it, a constructed spell is usually good only once. It's used up by doing what it was constructed to do. That's one reason they're rare; once used, they're gone forever, and there are no longer any wizards alive who can make more.\"\n\n\"Why haven't we encountered such constructed spells before?\" Sebastian asked with growing impatience. \"And why now, all of a sudden?\"\n\nSister Perdita stared at him fora moment, a picture of bottled anger that Jennsen knew she would never have dared direct at the emperor, even though the attack on the Confessors' Palace, which he ordered, against her warning, had resulted in the deaths of many of her Sisters of the Light.\n\nWith a show of deliberate care, Sister Perdita pointed up at the dark Keep hard against the mountain above them. \"There area thousand rooms in the Wizard's Keep if there's one,\" she said in a low voice. \"A good many of them will be stuffed full of nasty things. It's likely that when we drove them here for the winter, that wizard of theirs-Wizard Zorander finally had the good longtime he needed to search through the Keep, looking for just the kinds of things he hitherto lacked, so as to be ready for us when spring arrived and we advanced toward Aydindril. I fear to think what catastrophic surprises he yet has in store for us. That Keep has stood invincible for thousands of years.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sebastian's glare turned as dark as Jagang's\"Why haven't you warned us about this?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I never heard you say anything.\"\n\n\"I did. You were gone.\"\n\n\"You've also advised against many other things, as well, and we've overcome them,\" Jagang growled at her. \"When you fight a war, you must expect to take risks and to take casualties. Only those who dare, win.\"\n\nSebastian gestured up at the Keep. \"What other things might we expect?\"\n\n\"Constructed spells are only one of the dangers infighting these people. None of us Sisters really considered constructed spells a great threat because they're so rare, but, as you can see, even one constructed spell is profoundly perilous. Who knows what even more deadly things might be waiting to be unleashed.\n\n\"What's more, there's a whole world of dangers we can't even begin to conceive of. Their winter weather, alone, has killed hundreds of thousands of our men without the enemy having to lift a finger or risk a single man. That, alone, has done more damage to us than almost any battle or calamity of magic. Did we expect such losses from something so simple as snow and cold weather? Did our size and strength protect us from it? Are those hundreds of thousands any less of a loss because they died of fever rather than some fancy application of magic? What difference does it make to the dead--or those left to fight?\n\n\"I admit, to a soldier, winning because your enemy falls ill might not seem very glamorous or heroic, but dead is dead. Our army outnumbers these people many times over, yet we lost those hundreds of thousands to fever because of simple weather-not the magic you are so worried about us protecting you from.\"\n\n\"But in areal fight,\" Sebastian scoffed, \"then our numbers really mean something and will win out.\"\n\n\"Tell that to those who died of fever. Numbers don't always determine the winner.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That's outlandish,\" Sebastian shot back.\n\nSister Perdita pointed at the line of dead. \"Tell it to them.\"\n\n\"We must take risks if we're to win,\" Jagang said, settling the matter. \"What I want to know is if the enemy can be expected to throw more of these constructed spells at us?\"\n\nSister Perdita shook her head, as if to say she had no idea. \"I doubt that Wizard Zorander knows much about the constructed spells kept there. Such magic is no longer understood well.\"\n\n\"He apparently understood one of them pretty well,\" Sebastian said.\n\n\"And, that might have been the only one he understood well enough to use. As I said before, once used, constructed spells are used up.\"\n\n\"But it's also possible,\" Jennsen interrupted, \"that there are more constructed spells he does understand.\"\n\n\"Yes. Or, for all anyone knows, this could have been the last constructed spell in existence. On the other hand, he might be sitting in therewith a hundred of them in his lap, all much worse than this one. There is simply noway to know.\"\n\nJagang's black eyes gazed out at his fallen cavalry elite. \"Well, he certainly used this one to cut-\"\n\nThere was a sudden blinding flash off at the horizon.\n\nThe world around them lit with the intensity of a flash of lightning, but the flash didn't die out as lightning did. Jennsen seized the reins just under Rusty and Pete's bits to keep them from bolting. Other horses spooked, rearing up.\n\nWhite-hot light flared up from the river valley down over the hills-in the direction of the army. The light was so white, so pure, so hot, that it lit the clouds from underneath all the way to the opposite horizon. It was alight of such power, such intensity, that many of the men dropped to a knee in alarm." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The incandescent glow expanded outward with incredible speed, dwarfing the hills, yet it was so distant that they heard nothing. The rocky slopes of the mountains ringing the city were all illuminated in the harsh glare.\n\nAnd then Jennsen heard at last a deep rumbling boom that vibrated in her chest. It shook the ground beneath their feet. The powerful, resonant boom stretched out into a growing, clacking roar.\n\nA dark dome expanded up through the light. Jennsen realized that, because of the distance, what looked to her like a spreading dome of dust had to be debris at least as big as trees. Or wagons.\n\nAs the dark cloud expanded upward through the light, it dissipated, as if evaporating in the might of that consuming heat and light. Jennsen could see a wave, like the rings made by tossing a rock in a pond, radiating outward, except this was a single wave racing across the ground.\n\nAs everyone stood transfixed, gripped in fright, a sudden wall of wind, driving dirt and sand before it, blasted up the hill toward them. It was the shock of the wave that had finally reached them. It was so abrupt and so powerful that if the branches were not already bare, they would have been stripped of leaves right then and there. Limbs snapped as trees shuddered under the concussion of wind.\n\nMore horses panicked, bucking and bolting. Men dropped to the ground to protect themselves from what might come next. Jennsen, staggered by the blast of wind, shielded her eyes with a hand while huge soldiers recited prayers learned in childhood, begging the Creator for salvation.\n\nJagang stood facing the sight with angry defiant challenge.\n\n\"Dear spirits,\" Jennsen finally said, squinting, blinking the dust from her eyes as the aftermath seemed to abate. \"What could that have possibly been?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sister Perdita had gone ashen. \"Alight web.\" Her voice was low and heavy with what Jennsen had never detected from her before: dread.\n\n\"Impossible!\" Emperor Jagang roared. \"There are Sisters down there warding for light spells!\"\n\nSister Perdita said nothing. She couldn't seem to take her gaze from the arresting sight.\n\nJennsen could tell that the pain was wearing heavily on Sebastian, but he spoke forcefully. \"I've been told that alight web can't do anymore damage than\"-he gestured back at the palace-\"perhaps to destroy a building.\"\n\nSister Perdita said nothing, and with that silence offered the evidence to the contrary that was clearly before his eyes.\n\nJennsen took the reins to both horses in one hand and put the other to Sebastian's back in sympathy. She ached for him and wanted him to be somewhere safe where his injury could be tended to. The Sisters had said that it was serious and needed their attention. Jennsen suspected that the wound he suffered at the hands of the sorceress needed the intervention of magic.\n\n\"How can it be alight web!\" Jagang demanded. \"There's not even anyone here! No troops, no army, no force--except maybe a couple of their gifted.\"\n\n\"That's all it would take,\" Sister Perdita said. \"Such a thing needs no supporting troops. I told you that something was wrong. With the Keep here, in Aydindril, there's no telling what even alone wizard might be able to do to hold off an army--even our army.\"\n\n\"You mean,\" Sebastian asked, \"it's like the way a small force in a high pass, for example, can hold off a whole army?\"\n\n\"That's right.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Support the writer by proceeding with the storyline.\nTags: fantasy, flintlock fantasy, military\nAuthor: Django Wexler\nTitle: The Thousand Names\nChapter: 10" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Redeemers,\" Winter said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She remembered that sigil all too clearly. \"The triangles are supposed to look like flames.\"\n\n\"What are they doing out here?\" Bobby said. \"I thought all the Redeemers were at the city.\"\n\n\"Scouts,\" Graff said grimly. Winter nodded.\n\nBobby looked from one to the other, confused. \"What's that mean?\"\n\n\"It means that out there somewhere\"-Graff pointed east-\"there's an army.\"\n\n\"It means we're going to have a fight before long,\" Winter said. Staring at the sullen fanatics, she could almost forget about Davis after all." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So, General,\" said Yatchik-dan-Rahksa. \"We seethe true shape of your courage at last.\"\n\nKhtoba's frozen face cooled another few degrees. \"Courage?\" He looked as though he wanted to spit. \"Arrogant pup. Fight a few battles yourself before you speak tome of courage.\"\n\n\"And how am Ito do that, if I heed your counsel?\" the priest replied. \"You would have us cower here, praying the hammer does not fall on our heads!\"\n\n\"You may pray as you like,\" the general said. \"If you had studied the art of war as you've studied the teachings of the Divine Hand, you would know there is such a thing as strategy. We are strongly placed here, and there is nothing between Ashe-Katarion and the Vordanai but flyspeck villages and miles of worthless desert. Let them make the march. At the end of it, we'll be that much stronger, and they that much weaker.\"\n\n\"Are you so certain of that?\" Yatchik said. \"Already the people mutter that we fear to face the foreigners. Wait another few weeks and even the devoted may lose heart. Action is what is required.\" He sniffed. \"Besides, what need do we have of strategy? We have the blessing of Heaven. And we have the numbers.\"\n\n\"Numbers,\" Khtoba said, \"aren't everything.\"\n\nJaffa sat, watching them go after each other like a couple of angry cats. They had been at it for some hours, circling around to side topics before returning again and again to the main issue. The Vordanai army had left its tumbledown fortress at Sarhatep and was advancing up the coast road. The Steel Ghost had told them as much, and Khtoba's scouts had belatedly confirmed it. Yatchik was all fora general advance to meet and crush the foreigners where they stood, but the general was more cautious." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The real issue went unspoken. The authority of the Divine Hand rested on the violent sanction of the Swords of Heaven, the Redeemer host now nearly twenty-five thousand strong, gathered in the plain around the city. But that host could not sustain itself indefinitely, not without starving the people it was intended to protect. At some point the Hand would need to make the transition from revolutionary to ruler, to disband the army and restore a semblance of normal life to the city, but he didn't dare to do so with the Vordanai still in the field.\n\nKhtoba, on the other hand, had everything to gain by waiting. The Auxiliaries, smaller and better disciplined than the peasant horde, drew their supplies from well-stocked and– guarded depots. They were also the only claim to power Khtoba had, and he was loath to risk them. A defeat, or even a costly victory, might leave his ranks so depleted that one of his rivals would gobble him up.\n\nAnd the Steel Ghost? Jaffa glanced at the silent figure in black, and wondered. He hadn't said more than a few words during the whole affair. Jaffa had delivered Mother's message to him, but he'd given no sign of his answer.\n\nAt this rate, nothing would be accomplished. Jaffa thought on his instructions from Mother and decided it was time to break the deadlock.\n\n\"My friends,\" he said, interrupting their sniping, \"might I make a humble suggestion?\"\n\nAll eyes turned on him, Yatchik's large and liquid, Khtoba's piggy and red. The Ghost's, of course, were unreadable behind his mask.\n\n\"The foreigners area threat to the Redemption,\" Jaffa said. \"Perhaps even the greatest threat. But they are not the only threat. There are still followers of the prince hiding in the city, or gone to ground in the outskirts. Bandits and raiders multiply like locusts.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Khtoba shot a glance at the Ghost. The Desoltai had always been the most feared, and certainly the most effective, of the'bandits and raiders.\" For all that they were now allies of the Redemption, there was no love lost between the Auxiliaries and the nomads.\n\n\"So,\" the general said, \"you agree, then, that we must remain here.\"\n\n\"Some of us must,\" Jaffa replied, before Yatchik could object. \"But we must also consider what the enemy may do. Suppose they decide to wait where they are indefinitely.\"\n\n\"Exactly!\" the priest said.\n\n\"Therefore,\" Jaffa said, \"I suggest that the Auxiliaries remain hereto defend the city, while the army of the Redemption marches forth to lay waste to the invaders.\"\n\nBoth men looked at him fora long moment, then exploded at once.\n\n\"Of all the foolish-\"\n\n\"You can't-\"\n\n\"The Grand Justice speaks wisely,\" rasped the Steel Ghost, in a whisper that somehow cut through the chatter. Jaffa rallied a bit at this unexpected support.\n\n\"To confront the enemy with less than your whole strength is folly,\" Yatchik said. \"Even I know that much of your \"art of war.\"\"\n\n\"True,\" Jaffa said, \"but, as you say, we have the numbers. Surely the faithful will not be defeated by heathens?\"\n\nThe priest was silent fora moment. \"It's not a matter of victory or defeat. Or course we will be victorious. But how many will need to lay down their lives? If General Khtoba's assistance could reduce the suffering among the devout-\"\n\nKhtoba snorted. \"Now whose courage is in question?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "He was smiling like the cat that had eaten the canary, and small wonder." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jaffa could seethe scenario playing itself out in the general's mind. With the Redeemer army away from the city, he would have the only reliable body of men. The Divine Hand could be put under proper control, and sooner or later the general would have the throne he'd always coveted. Yatchik could see it, too, of course, but Jaffa had one more card to play.\n\n\"And,\" he said, \"we know that the prince-may his name be cursed-rides with the raschem. Surely the glory of his capture is a goal worth the risk?\"\n\nYatchik's eyes lit up. It was common knowledge that Prince Exopter had fled the Palace with most of his treasury and wagons full of valuables, all the loot his dynasty had extracted over centuries of tyranny. It was not the glory that attracted the priest, but the gold. Whoever brought that wealth back to the Redemption would find his star on the rise. Now it was Khtoba's turn to sputter.\n\n\"Now, see here-,\" he began.\n\nJaffa sat back and left them to it. He thought they would agree in the end, but as long as they did something it would make no difference. He hoped fervently that the Redeemers and the foreigners would annihilate one another, although there seemed small chance of that. As Yatchik said, the Khandarai had the numbers. Even if they lost two-for-one, the tiny Vordanai force would be extinguished long before the Swords of Heaven.\n\nHe saw the Steel Ghost looking at him-at least, the mask was turned in his direction, though the eyes behind it were still invisible. When he had caught his gaze, the Desoltai chieftain dipped his head in a slight nod." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Jaffa nodded back." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Mother would get the meeting she wanted after all.\n\nFEOR\n\nFeor sat with her head in her hands, eyes closed, trying to block out the screams. She kept returning to the day the temples fell, the day her fellow holy orphans had died beneath the swords of the vicious new priests. No matter how many times she went over it, nothing would change, not for her and not for Aran or Mahl or any of the others. But she couldn't seem to stop herself from remembering, over and over.\n\nShe'd been treated well enough. A few bruises from Gaedra's massive hands were nothing. She remembered the look in Aran's eyes, the dawning terror an instant before the eunuch's club dashed his brains to paste against the wall.\n\nThe flap of her tent rustled. She could tell it was him without looking up. The huge man didn't seem to have bathed since that awful day, and he gave off a sour stench.\n\n\"Getup. Yatchik wants you.\"\n\nFeor raised her head, but apparently too slowly for Gaedra's taste. He grabbed her forearm and jerked her painfully to her feet, then forced her to stand on her toes as he straightened to his full height. Her shoulder burned.\n\n\"I said getup, little whore. Dirty slut. Worthless cunt.\"\n\nA deep rage smoldered in Gaedra. He had been a servant of the temple, like her, but the eunuch had betrayed his sacred trust and opened the doors to the Redeemers. Even that had not slaked his thirst for vengeance, and he took his anger out on her, abusing her as much as his limited vocabulary would allow. Yatchik-dan-Rahksa had not, as yet, permitted him to go any further." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She bit down a gasp and managed to say, \"And what would you know about such matters?\"\n\nThe eunuch roared and spun, slinging her through the tent flap and out into the camp. She hit the ground with her aching shoulder and rolled, breathless with pain. Gaedra stalked after her, and she scrambled back to her feet before he could grab her again.\n\n\"When Yatchik speaks, you obey.\" He smiled. \"Or not obey. Perhaps then Yatchik will see how useless you are. And after that...\"\n\nFeor straightened her robes, sniffed, and turned in the direction of Yatchik's tent. Gaedra hurried along at her heels, but when they arrived at the priest's plain black dwelling, the eunuch hung back. Feor ducked through the flap and went inside alone. Yatchik-dan-Rahksa sat on a cushion in the semidarkness, studying a leather map unrolled on the dirt floor. He shot her a questioning look.\n\n\"Feor. You know what I need from you. Have you reconsidered?\"\n\n\"You understand nothing,\" she told him, for what seemed like the hundredth time. \"Even if there is an abh-naathem among the raschem army-\"\n\n\"There is,\" Yatchik interrupted.\n\nHe was right about that, although she refused to admit it aloud. For several days now she had been able to feel the dull presence of the foreign sorcerer, lurking off to the west like the sun just passing below the horizon. There was power there, more power than she'd ever felt before. More, even, than she felt from Mother or Onvi.\n\n\"Even if there is,\" she repeated, \"and even if I wished to help you, I could not.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You area naathem,\" he said. \"Your magic can defend us from his.\"\n\n\"You speak of \"magic\" as though you knew something of it,\" Feor scoffed. \"I tell you again, you do not understand. My naath cannot do what you ask.\"\n\n\"I do not have time to understand.\" Yatchik stood, his thin frame unfolding to its full height. His head brushed the cloth ceiling, and Feor had to lookup to see his serious eyes. \"Tomorrow the faithful take their vengeance on the raschem. Whatever fate they suffer will be your fate also. If I were you, I would be more careful how I speak.\"\n\n\"I know you would,\" Feor said. \"But that is because you have never truly had faith.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It figured, of course, that after all the drill their first assignment would be something they'd never practiced.\n\nMoving inland from the coast, the land rose irregularly in a series of low rills, roughly perpendicular to the road the Colonials were marching along. Colonel Vhalnich was worried about these ridges, as well he might be. Even Winter, no student of strategy, could see that any cannon emplaced here would have a formidable field of fire. Companies had been broken out, therefore, to advance up the high ground, make sure it was clear of scouts or sharpshooters, and'if possible, make contact with and ascertain the location of the enemy.\"\n\nWinter wondered whether Colonel Vhalnich-or Captain d'Ivoire, who'd actually issued the order-had really thought about the last part of it. Lieutenant d'Vries had certainly taken it to heart. As a result, the Seventh Company was currently splashing through a stream between the ridge flanking the road and the next hilltop, getting farther and farther from the main body. Winter had been growing correspondingly more and more nervous, until she finally felt she had to say something.\n\nD'Vries was mounted, which made him hard to approach. Winter patted the flank of his horse, a beautiful dapple gray that was obviously suffering badly in the Khandarai heat, and tried to attract the lieutenant's attention.\n\n\"Sir?\" When this had no effect, she resorted to the slightly humiliating expedient of tugging at the tail of his coat, like an anxious child accosting a busy parent. \"Sir, could I have a word?\"\n\n\"Eh?\" D'Vries looked down. He was in his element at last, riding boldly at the head of his company, resplendent in his bright blue-and-gold. A sword with a silver-filigreed sheath hung at his belt. Even his spurs gleamed with polish. \"What is it, Sergeant?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I wondered-,\" Winter began, but d'Vries interrupted.\n\n\"Speak up, man!\"\n\nWinter cursed silently, then said, \"I wondered, sir, if perhaps we've come far enough.\"\n\n\"Far enough?\" He looked down at her disdainfully. \"We haven't found anything!\"\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" Winter said. \"But we were ordered to hold the ridge-\"\n\n\"And to make contact with the enemy!\" the lieutenant said.\n\nShe gave a quiet sigh. He'd said the same thing at the outset. \"But, sir, if we're attacked-\"\n\nHe barked a laugh. \"Then my men will have to show their mettle!\"\n\nWinter felt lost. She wanted to explain that mettle wasn't the issue-if they located a substantial force of the enemy, a mere hundred and twenty men weren't likely to be able to make much of a stand, however valorous they were. But d'Vries would only laugh and call her a coward.\n\n\"In any case,\" he said, \"this is my first assignment, and I've been ordered to locate the enemy. I do not intend to return as a failure!\"\n\nThat there were a dozen companies with similar orders, up and down the line of march, had apparently made no impression on him. Winter saluted and turned away, feeling the day's heat throbbing against the back of her neck and soaking her uniform in sweat. Her breasts ached where she'd bound them too tightly; she'd had only a few hours with the sewing kit, and hadn't gotten the measure quite right on her replacement undershirts. Her skin itched where it rubbed against the soaked cotton.\n\nMost of the men were suffering equally, if indifferent ways. A few days of drill had helped, but it took longer than that to truly become accustomed to the hellish sun. As they passed the stream, they took the opportunity to drink, refill their canteens, and splash water on their faces. The little brook was brackish and warm, but it was pleasant even so." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They were advancing in loose order, not the shoulder-to-shoulder line they'd practiced on the drill field. The men took advantage of the laxer discipline to talk and joke with one another as they trudged across the bottom of the valley and started up the opposite height. They didn't seem worried. Winter flinched at each burst of laugher, but she was the only one.\n\nShe kicked savagely at a dry puff bush as she passed, and it exploded satisfactorily into a thousand drifting seedpods. The hell of it was, more than likely nothing would come of all her nerves. So far none of the scouts had sighted anything more than distant horsemen, who turned and fled at the first approach of anything in blue. Give-Em-Hell's cavalry ranged out ahead of the column, covering the most likely approaches of an enemy force. These reconnaissances were just a precaution. But, of course, try telling that to d'Vries.\n\nBobby drifted over to her. The boy was plainly exhausted, sweat running down his face in rivulets, but he struggled gamely onward under the weight of pack and musket. He even managed a smile.\n\n\"Aren't-aren't-\" He labored fora moment to catch his breath. \"Aren't we getting a bit far out?\"\n\nWinter snorted. \"D'Vries thinks the colonel has ordered him personally to chase down the entire enemy army.\"\n\n\"He'll get a dressing-down from Captain d'Ivoire, I bet.\"\n\n\"Maybe.\" Winter shrugged. \"Captain d'Ivoire's a busy man.\"\n\n\"Think he'll calla halt when we get to the top of the next ridge?\"\n\n\"God Almighty, I hope so.\" Winter looked at the perspiring troops now struggling up the slope. \"Otherwise we won't even need to run into the Redeemers. The sun's bad enough.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Bobby nodded wearily. They walked on in silence, picking their way around occasional screes of loose rock or clumps of hardy shrubs and grass. This ridge was taller than the one that ran along the road, and Winter imagined it would afford quite a view. She hoped that d'Vries would be satisfied with taking a look from the top.\n\nThere was a surprised shriek from her right, followed by a burst of laughter.\n\n\"Sarge! I think something bit Cooper!\"\n\nMore laughter. Winter left Bobby's side and hurried over to a small group of soldiers, acutely aware that getting bit by something in Khandar was no laughing matter. In the city she'd known a Khandarai trapper who'd claimed there were a hundred and seven varieties of snakes in the Lesser Desol, and at least a dozen kinds of scorpions. Each was dangerous in its own particular way.\n\nOn inspection, however, Cooper turned out merely to have stepped in a prickerbush, whose barbed thorns had snagged his trousers and drawn angry red scratches down his leg. Winter got the lad disentangled, much to the amusement of his companions.\n\nAs she straightened up, there were shouts from above, at the top of the ridge. Winter thought at first that another man had had an encounter with local wildlife, but from the volume it sounded as though the whole company had stumbled into a nest of snakes. Above it she heard the high, shrill voice of the lieutenant.\n\n\"Back! Go back!\"\n\nHe came into sight over the top of the ridge, his terrified horse moving far too fast already, blood spotting the animal's flanks where he'd kicked it viciously with his spurs. A few soldiers followed, picking their way down the rocky slope as fast as their legs would carry them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Winter spat a curse that would have given Mrs. Wilmore an apoplectic fit on the spot. She forced her weary legs to move, sprinting the last dozen yards to the crest of the ridge, and found most of the Seventh Company still gathered there. The thin line had contracted to a tight bunch as the soldiers instinctively huddled together.\n\nThe top of the high ridge afforded an excellent view. Over her shoulder, Winter could seethe ocean, though the coast road and the Vordanai army were blocked by the lower ridge behind them. Ahead of her, to the south, the furrowed land stretched on and on until it flattened out into the sandy wastes of the Lesser Desol.\n\nThe objects of the soldiers' attention were closer at hand, however. Off to the east, the coast road became visible again as it swung inland to avoid some obstacle, and there avast host had gathered. It looked more like a camp than an army, with tents and crude banners showing the crimson flame of the Redeemers on a black field. Men milled around, reduced to ants by the distance, and there was no mistaking the flash of the sun from polished steel blades.\n\nSpreading south and east from the camp was an apparently endless tide of horsemen. They rode in small groups of twenty or thirty, and there were more groups than Winter could count, covering the valley at the foot of the ridge. They were shabby-looking men, un-uniformed and mounted on scrawny beasts liberated from their lives as carthorses or field animals, but they screamed and drew swords when they saw Vordanai blue against the horizon. Priests in black wraps egged them on, screaming loudest of all and waving the riders forward.\n\nThe lieutenant was still shouting, barely audible over the shrieks of the Redeemers." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Back! Back to the column!\"\n\nThe closest groups were only minutes away. The slope would slow them, but not enough. Winter cursed again. She hurried to the mass of men on the ridge, only to find it melting away before she got there. The soldiers, momentarily transfixed by the sight, had recovered their wits, and one by one they were making the same decision as d'Vries had. There were only a few dozen left when she arrived, Bobby and the other two corporals among them.\n\nWinter grabbed Bobby's shoulder. The boy looked up at her, eyes wide.\n\n\"Wh-wh-what-\"\n\n\"Back down the hill,\" Winter said. \"But stop at the stream. Understand that? Get everyone you canto stop at the stream.\"\n\n\"We have to get back to the column,\" Bobby gabbled. \"We'll be killed-oh, saints and martyrs-\"\n\n\"We'll never make it,\" Winter said. \"Too far. If we run they'll cut us down. We have to stand them off!\"\n\nShe glanced up at the other two corporals for support. Graff looked dubious, but Folsom nodded grimly. He took off down the hill at a run, bellowing at the top of his lungs.\n\n\"The stream! Halt at the stream!\"\n\n\"Help me,\" Winter said to Graff, and started grabbing men by the arm and pulling them away from the crest. Mesmerized by the sight of their own deaths approaching at a gallop, at first they refused to move. Winter turned them about by brute force, shouted in their ears to form up at the stream, and pushed them so they stumbled down the slope. Graff followed her example. By the time the pair of them were the only ones remaining, the first of the Redeemer horsemen were already climbing the ridge." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Winter spun at a piercing, inhuman shriek." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "D'Vries had tried to get even more speed from his mount, in spite of the rocky, broken ground, and the gray had put afoot wrong. The animal went down and rolled, screaming its terror, and the lieutenant was thrown free. Both came to rest near the bottom of the slope. The horse tried to rise, but immediately went down again, one foreleg refusing to bear its weight. D'Vries, miraculously unhurt, took one look at it and continued his run on foot, splashing across the muddy stream in his enameled leather boots and starting up the opposite slope.\n\nFolsom's shouts were having some effect. The long-legged corporal had reached the bottom before most of the men, and he waved his musket in the air while he called on them to form. Some gathered around him, although no formation was evident, and those still coming down the slope headed for the crowd that was growing in the creek bed. Others, mostly those already past the stream, kept running after the lieutenant.\n\n\"Come on,\" Winter said to Graff, and ran. Turning away from the horsemen was hard, and keeping herself from stumbling in the first dozen yards was harder. The small of her back itched, expecting a musket ball or a rider's saber. When the ground leveled out enough that she could risk turning her head, she found she'd made better time than she'd thought. The first of the Redeemers were just cresting the rise, whooping and shouting at the sight of the Vordanai soldiers running for their lives. They wouldn't be able to gallop down without the risk of ending up like d'Vries.\n\nShe spotted Folsom in the crowd of nervous men, some of whom looked ready to takeoff running again. Winter cupped her hands to shout as she ran." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Square! Make them form square!\"\n\nShe covered the rest of the distance at a dead sprint, Graff behind her, his stubby arms pumping. Folsom was already at work, shoving the uncomprehending men into line. He'd managed to force the knot of men into a hollow oval, but it was open at the back, where the men were spreading out along the creek bed. Winter pulled up short, gasping for breath.\n\n\"Fix-fix-\" She coughed, mastered her lungs by sheer force of will, and managed, \"Fix bayonets. Two ranks. Don't shoot till they close. Graff!\"\n\nThe wiry corporal was beside her, hands on his knees. \"Yes?\" he replied, coughing.\n\n\"Straighten them out. Hold fire. You understand?\"\n\nShe caught his eye, and he nodded. Winter ran around the face of the oval, toward where the line dissolved into an amorphous mass. Bobby was at the edge, still shouting at the men who were climbing the opposite slope behind the lieutenant. Winter grabbed the boy's hand.\n\n\"Listen. Bobby, listen tome!\" Winter gestured up to where the riders were picking their way through the rocks, only minutes from contact. \"We need a rear face to this formation. Otherwise they'll just go around and take us from behind, you understand?\" She became aware that the men nearby were listening, too, and raised her voice. \"Form up! Double line! We have to guard their backs\"-she waved at the men at the front of the square, now in a recognizable line-\"and they'll guard ours! Form up now!\"\n\nBobby raised his voice as well, high and girlish with barely mastered fear. The men started to form, pushing and shoving, and on the inside of the square Folsom started taking them by the shoulders and jamming them into the right positions. As the formation came together, the nerves of the recruits seemed to steady. It was agony to look away from the oncoming horsemen, as the back face of the square was obliged to do, but under Winter's prodding they stopped staring over their shoulders and concentrated on their weapons. Bayonets came out of their sheaths, and each man fixed the triangular steel blade to the lug just below his musket barrel. Folsom still bellowed from inside the square." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Hold fire until my command! Any man who fires without my command is getting cracked over the head!\"\n\nIt was strange to hear the big corporal speak so freely, as though danger had finally loosened his tongue. Graff was at work on the right face of the square, and Winter went to the left, but the men didn't require much steadying. Some critical threshold had been passed, and the Seventh Company had gone from a fleeing mob back to an organized body of soldiery.\n\nThe sudden clap of a gunshot cut through the shouts of the men, and Winter saw a wisp of smoke rising from the ridge. The rider who'd fired lowered a stubby carbine and drew his sword. Other shots followed. Every bang and flash was accompanied by a collective swaying of the men in the square, each man individually attempting to dodge.\n\n\"Hold fire!\" Folsom screamed. \"Hold your fire, by Karis the Savior, or you'll wish you had!\"\n\nThe line of horsemen directly opposite the square slowed their descent, but those beyond it on either side swept forward with wild cries. Free of the rocky ridge, they spurred their horses to a gallop, starting up the smaller rill beyond. D'Vries had made it halfway to the top, with the men who'd fled straggling behind him, but the horsemen easily caught up to them. Some of the men turned to face their pursuers, and there was a ragged chorus of shots and a billow of smoke. Winter saw a couple of horses go down. Then the riders were on them, shouting and slashing with their sabers or jabbing with long spears. The last Winter saw of Lieutenant d'Vries was a brief glimpse of glittering gold and silver as four men closed in around him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Other men were cut down as they ran, or spitted on the spears." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Some tried to fight, blocking the sabers with the barrels of their muskets, but the clang of steel on steel invariably drew the attention of another horseman, who cut down the unfortunate soldier from behind.\n\nDirectly above, on the crest of the high ridge, a party of Redeemers was forming. They'd been quick to sweep around the sides of the square, giving it a wide berth to stay out of easy musket range, but none of them had yet challenged it directly. Here and there a carbine or even a pistol cracked, but at that distance the riders had little chance of hitting even the tight-packed ranks of the Vordanai formation. Winter could see one of the black-wrapped priests screaming at the top of his lungs, and the scattered horsemen gathered into larger groups. Many continued on, over the low ridge behind which the Vordanai main column waited.\n\nA group was forming on the other side of the square as well, and smaller units circled around the sides, like predators eyeing prey fora hint of weakness. Winter realized, belatedly, that she was outside the protective wall of bayonets. She looked around quickly to make sure she was the last one still standing beyond the line, then stepped sideways between two of the musket barrels that protruded like spears. The men shuffled aside to let her in, then closed behind her like a curtain.\n\nCorporal Folsom stood in the center of the tiny clear area inside. The faces of the square were only ten men wide, so the interior was about twenty-five feet across, bisected by the creek bed and the muddy, trampled ground around it. The corporal saluted, as though nothing unusual had happened.\n\n\"Where's Bobby and Graff?\" Winter said. Folsom pointed to where the two of them stood side by side in the rear rank, and Winter pulled them out. Bobby looked white-faced and terrified, knuckles standing out bloodless as he clutched the barrel of his musket. Graff, grizzled and bearded, was harder to read, but Winter thought even he was looking a little gray. She did her best to appear unconcerned." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Right,\" she said. \"We each take a face. Hold fire until twenty-five yards, and then only one rank. Second rank holds fire until point-blank. You understand?\" She caught Bobby's eye. Graff was a veteran, and Folsom seemed to know what he was about, but the boy looked rattled. \"Senior Corporal Forester, do you understand?\"\n\n\"Yessir,\" Bobby said automatically. He blinked, and some life returned to his face. \"Hold fire till twenty-five-\"\n\n\"Right. And whatever you do, don't let them step back an inch. No horse alive will charge a row of bayonets, but if they waver-\"\n\nThe priest on the hill cut her off. He sang a single high note, close to a howl, breathtaking in its pitch and purity. It would have been almost beautiful if Winter hadn't recognized it-the Redeemers in the city had given the same cry before they set light to the pyres of heretics. The riders answered with a roar, and there was a sudden thunder of hooves as they started forward. Winter couldn't begin to estimate their numbers-hundreds at least-\n\n\"Go!\" she told the corporals, and ran to the south face, directly opposite where the priest had gathered the largest band of the enemy. Her voice rose to a hoarse shout, scraping her throat raw. \"Hold fire! First rank, kneel and ready to fire on my order. Second rank, hold fire. Hold!\"\n\nThe horsemen started out slowly, picking their way down rough ground at the top of the hill, then gaining speed as the slope flattened out. The distance closed rapidly. Seventy yards, sixty, fifty-\n\nA musket cracked to her right, followed quickly by a couple of others as trigger fingers tightened in sympathy." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Hold your fucking fire!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Winter screamed, and heard the corporals echoing the call. Bobby's voice was high and tremulous, while Folsom's bass shouts carried over the thunder of hooves.\n\nAnswering cracks came from the advancing mob. More carbines, and the range was shorter. Most of the shots went wide, but just in front of Winter a man grunted as if in surprise and slumped forward. From behind her, she heard a shriek.\n\nThirty yards. The riders had to close into match the narrow face of the square, until they were riding boot to boot and five-deep. Spears and sabers waved in the air, and gray-skinned faces twisted in fury. The red flame of the Redemption adorned every breast. Twenty-five yards.\n\n\"First rank, fire!\" Winter screamed, echoed moments later by the three corporals.\n\nFor an instant all four sides of the square were fringed in fire, the yellow-pink glare of muzzle flashes, followed by a billow of smoke. With the enemy packed so tightly, they could scarcely miss, and every ball seemed to find either a horse or a rider. Men dropped from their saddles as though swatted by invisible giants, and horses screamed and collapsed, spilling their riders onto the unforgiving earth. Every horse that went down took two or three others with it, until they formed a pile of terrified, thrashing animals and screaming riders. Those behind broke to the left or right, avoiding the obstacle, or if they were particularly brave urged their mounts into a jump. Staggered and broken, the charge closed nonetheless.\n\n\"Second rank on my command!\" Winter shouted, unsure whether anyone but the men right beside her could hear over the tumult. \"First rank, hold steady!\"\n\nShe heard Folsom's bellow, and a snatch of Bobby's voice excoriating his troops with words a lad his age ought not to have known. The riders were so close now that the whole world beyond the blue square seemed to be filled with horses and shouting men." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The front rank of Vordanai had knelt to allow the second rank a clear field of fire, and set the butts of their muskets against the dirt. Their bayonets presented an unbroken line of razor-edged steel points to the oncoming riders, and if the men were foolish enough to want to hit that obstacle at a gallop, the horses were not. They shied away, swinging to either side in order to avoid contact with the bayonets, only to collide with the attackers against the other faces of the square who were doing the same. Other riders reined up and managed to bring their animals to a halt just outside the line, but they, too, had to work quickly to avoid collision with those coming on behind them.\n\nIn an instant the wave of screaming riders had become a melee of shoving men and rearing horses. Those closest to the square slashed down at the points of the bayonets, trying to bat them aside. Somewhere a pistol cracked, and a man in the rear rank of Winter's side of the square toppled backward, hands clawing at the red ruin of his face. His cry was inaudible amidst the tumult.\n\n\"Second rank, fire!\"\n\nShe wasn't sure if the men heard her or simply could wait no longer. Forty muskets cracked, the sound like a bludgeon against her ears, and lurid smoke wreathed the whole scene. The effect on the horsemen was fearful. At that range, the ball from a musket would pass through flesh and bone like wet tissue paper, with enough energy to come out the other side and kill again. Horses screamed and collapsed, all around the line, and men were shouting and cursing atone another. There were more cracks, either late firing or enemy weapons.\n\n\"First rank, hold steady! Second rank, load!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If they had been able to press forward, the Redeemers might have broken the square. With the bayonets of the second rank withdrawn so they could hurry through the drill of stuffing powder and ball down their barrels, the first rank stood momentarily alone, a thin line of steel. But the volley had torn horrid gaps in the mob of attackers, and those that remained were having difficulty controlling their mounts, much less pressing forward over the still-thrashing bodies of those that had fallen. On the edges, a few were already shying away.\n\nHalf a minute-Too slow, Winter thought-and the second rank's weapons swung back into line. More of the riders started to turn away.\n\n\"Second rank, fire!\"\n\nAnother volley ripped out, more ragged than the first, but nearly as effective. Suddenly the horsemen were fleeing, riding away from the square with the same desperate speed with which they'd charged. A ragged, spontaneous cheer erupted from the Vordanai as their enemies fanned out and away. Winter's voice cut through it like a knife.\n\n\"First rank, load. Second rank, steady!\"\n\nThrough the shredded wisps of smoke, she could seethe black-clad priest still waiting at the top of the ridge, with a considerable body of men around him. The first wave was rapidly dispersing in all directions, but some of them turned their horses about when they'd regained a safe distance. Others kept going, despite the shouts of their comrades. Outside the square, screams rose from the field of broken men and animals.\n\nWhen the first rank had finished loading and reestablished the line of bayonets, Winter told the second rank to load and took a moment to look behind her. All the faces of the square were intact-as she'd known they had to be, or else some rider's saber would have taken her from behind-and she could seethe three corporals echoing her orders. Here and there a Vordanai soldier had slumped over in place, and his comrades had closed ranks around him. A few others, not as badly hurt, had walked or crawled to the center of the square. She saw one man, with an almost mechanical calm, tearing strips from his smoke-grimed undershirt to wraparound the bloody ruin of his left hand." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The cry of the Redeemer priest-that high note, incongruously pure-drew her attention back to the ridge. With the survivors of the first attack out of the way, the black-wrapped cleric urged his own mount down the hill, and the men gathered around him followed. They kicked their horses to a reckless speed, and more than one stumbled and fell amid the rocks and wreckage, but the rest came on.\n\n\"Hold fire!\" Winter shouted. \"The same damn thing again-just hold until they close-\"\n\nAt twenty-five yards, the first rank exploded into flames, and men fell up and down the charging line. There were fewer of them, and being more loosely packed they suffered less than the first wave had. The survivors, including the priest, urged their mounts into a gallop and pushed on over the corpse-strewn ground.\n\nWinter watched the priest with fascination. He was unarmed, practically standing in his stirrups and holding the reins with both hands. His high-pitched song had given way to a shriek, and his face was screwed up in ecstasy or hatred. By fervor or superior horsemanship, he'd outdistanced all of his companions.\n\n\"Second rank,\" Winter shouted, \"fire!\"\n\nA half dozen muskets had drawn a bead on the man in black, and they all cracked together. The priest had nearly reached the line, and he urged his animal into a final leap to clear the barricade of dead or dying horses that lay in front of the square. In midair he seemed almost to explode, bits of black wrap blowing outward in sprays of blood. A bullet found his horse as well, and the beast's front legs collapsed when it landed just in front of the square. It was traveling too fast to be stopped so easily, though. The horse twisted and rolled, nervelessly, and collided with the wall of bayonets." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In dying, the animal had achieved what the living riders could not. It slammed into the men in the square, knocking their bayonets aside or trapping them in its flesh. Three more riders followed close behind it, having evaded the volley and threaded the obstacles, and they charged into the gap.\n\nOne soldier, knocked down by the corpse of the priest's mount, found a horse riding directly over him. He thrust his bayonet point upward and rolled aside as the animal collapsed with a shower of blood. The rider on the left found another man jabbing at him and leaned forward to aim a cut at the soldier's hand. His attacker rolled backward with a cry and a spray of gore.\n\nThe third horseman, hefting a spear, came directly at Winter.\n\nHer first instinct, to get out of the path of the charging animal, saved her life. The horseman reined up beside her and thrust, but she threw herself aside just in time. He circled, fending off an outthrust bayonet, and came at her again. This time she had to roll as he passed, and fetched up against the corpse of a young man in blue, hands still clenched around his musket. She snatched the weapon, swung it clumsily to point at the rider, and started fumbling with the cock. The pan clicked open, letting the priming charge trickle out into her face.\n\nWinter spat, tasting the salt of the powder, and blinked a few grains from her eyes in time seethe spear coming down at her. Abandoning any attempt to fire the musket, she blocked the swing with the barrel and thrust the bayonet back at him. The Redeemer shouted when the point scored on his arm, and dropped his weapon. He wheeled away just in time for the rider who'd been unhorsed to charge her, screaming. Winter scrabbled away, leveling the musket like a spear, but the man kicked the barrel with his booted foot and it jolted from her hand." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Something flashed past her, dressed in blue. Bobby charged with all his weight behind his bayonet, like a medieval lancer. It caught the man high in the chest and sank in until the barrel was flush with his skin. The Redeemer toppled, dragging the musket from the boy's grasp. Bobby sank to his knees beside the corpse, but a half dozen soldiers swarmed past him and Winter. Dimly, she saw them butcher the wounded horseman like a hog, then move onto close the gap opened by the dying horse. Around the outside of the square, the rest of the late priest's companions were shying away, and at that moment another volley boomed out, pressing them into full flight.\n\nWinter's heart hammered so fast she was certain it was about to explode. She searched her body for pain, and discovered with mounting disbelief that she seemed to be relatively intact. Another volley exploded all around her, chasing the fleeing Khandarai, but her battle-numbed ears barely registered it. She rolled over and crawled to where Bobby sat staring into space in the direction the Khandarai had come from.\n\n\"Bobby!\" Winter said, her own voice distant and ringing in her ears. \"Corporal! Are you all right?\"\n\nBobby looked at her quizzically, as though she were speaking in a foreign tongue, and then blinked and seemed to recover himself a little.\n\n\"Fine,\" he said. \"I'm fine.\"\n\nWinter staggered to her feet. The square was intact, the first rank of men kneeling grim-faced with leveled bayonets while the second rank busily loaded yet another volley. Beyond that, she could see nothing. The smoke had piled up around the company like a fog bank, and even the sun was only an unseen presence overhead." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She heard a couple of cracks, distant gunshots, but they sounded along way off. Before long, even the drumming of hooves on dry earth had faded like departing rain. Alight breeze coming down the valley started to shred the smoke, and snatches of blue sky became visible.\n\nThe second rank had loaded and leveled. Winter saw Graff and Folsom looking at her for orders. Bobby was still immobile on the ground.\n\n\"First rank, load,\" Winter croaked. She turned in place, wishing she could see. Beyond that smoke, the Redeemers could be waiting, re-forming for another assault-\n\nBut they were not. By the time all the company's muskets were reloaded and ready, the dense bank of smoke was drifting into tatters, and the valley floor became visible. For as far as the eye could see in any direction, it was empty. The Redeemer cavalry had moved on, the vast bulk of the horsemen simply sweeping around the tiny square and on toward the main Vordanai column. In the immediate vicinity of the Seventh Company, the ground was littered with shattered, screaming horses, wounded men, and corpses. On the slope of the northern ridge, patches of blue marked where Vordanai soldiers had been cut down as they ran. Some of them moved feebly, but most were still.\n\nWinter stared in dumb disbelief. She felt someone move to her side, and looked up to see Graff, his bearded face twisted into a parody of a smile.\n\n\"Well, that seems to be over.\" He scratched the side of his nose. \"What the hell do we do now?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Colonials went through the evolution from march column into square with considerably more expertise than they'd shown a few days before, though they were still too slow for Marcus\" taste. From above, they would have looked like a chain of four diamonds strung out along the road, points aligned with one another so that the faces of the squares could shoot without risking friendly fire. The Third and Fourth battalion squares, at the back of the column, had formed around the artillery and the vulnerable supply train, while Give-Em-Hell's cavalry were gathering nearby.\n\nThe diminutive cavalry captain himself rode over to where Marcus, Janus, Fitz, and the regimental color party waited by the First Battalion square. He reined up and, his eyes gleaming, ripped off a tight salute to the colonel.\n\n\"Give me leave to charge them, sir,\" he said, his pigeon chest swollen with pride. \"I'll clear that ridge in a flash.\"\n\nJanus raised a polite eyebrow. \"You don't think you're at too much of a numerical disadvantage?\"\n\n\"Each man in blue is worth a dozen of those cowardly goat-fuckers,\" the captain said.\n\nMarcus winced at this, but Janus was unperturbed.\n\n\"Indeed. Though, if our scouts are even marginally trustworthy, they would outnumber you roughly thirty to one. Possibly more.\"\n\n\"But they won't be ready for it!\"\n\nThe colonel shook his head sadly, as though he would have loved nothing better in the world than to let the captain off his leash.\n\n\"I'm afraid the cavalry has too important apart to play in today's battle to risk it at this stage, Captain. Keep your men close. You're to shelter inside the Second Battalion square, understand?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But-\" Give-Em-Hell caught Janus'eye, and somewhat to Marcus\" astonishment he subsided. \"Yes, sir. As you say.\" He put his heels to his horse and rode toward where his men waited, near the front of the column.\n\nMarcus leaned toward his commander. \"I apologize for Captain Stokes, sir. He's a good cavalryman, just a touch overeager.\"\n\n\"Eagerness has virtues all its own, Captain.\" Janus shrugged. \"There is a place for every man, whatever his talent or temperament. Captain Stokes will have his turn.\" He looked up at the ridge. \"I can't imagine what they're up to. If they take much longer, I shall have to order up some artillery to hurry them along.\"\n\nThe hilltop was dark with enemy horsemen gathering around a dozen black-clad priests who chose that moment to break into their sweet, high song. They all hit subtly different notes, and the result was a ringing harmony that echoed down from the ridge with a weird, unearthly beauty. Marcus felt his jaw tighten, but when he looked at Janus he saw that the colonel was sitting with his eyes closed, absorbing the melody. He opened them again only when the keening was answered by a roar that seemed to come from thousands of throats.\n\n\"Do Khandarai priests always sing like that before they enter battle?\" Janus asked.\n\nMarcus shrugged. \"I don't think so, sir. As far as I'm aware, it's a Redeemer thing.\"\n\n\"Hmm.\" Janus looked thoughtful. \"Pity.\"\n\n\"Perhaps we ought to take shelter, sir?\"\n\nJanus examined his hand fora moment, flicked a bit of grit from under one fingernail, then looked up again at where the enemy horsemen were beginning to pour over the ridge. \"Very well. Let's find a safe vantage.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The interior of the First Battalion's square was a bare patch of trampled earth seventy yards or so to aside. Behind the triple ranks that formed the edge stood the lieutenants, one to each company, while the sergeants prowled back and forth. All around him, men loaded their weapons and fixed their bayonets.\n\nJanus had produced a spyglass, a fearsomely expensive-looking thing in brass and blond wood. His horse's height let him peer over the heads of the men around him, and he shook his head regretfully.\n\n\"A mob. Nothing more than a mob.\"\n\nMarcus watched the horsemen thundering down from the ridge. Without the aid of a glass, most of what he could see was the dust raised by their passage. The priests were still at the front, waving the others forward, and he could see a few of the'soldiers,\" ragged men with improvised weapons, riding scrawny horses.\n\n\"A big mob,\" he said. \"From what the scouts said, there have to be three or four thousand of them.\"\n\n\"Four thousand or forty, it makes no difference,\" Janus said. \"A charge like that will never break a solid square.\" He gave Marcus a smile, his big gray eyes unreadable. \"Assuming our men are up to it, of course. If not, things will become exciting very quickly.\"\n\n\"They're up to it, sir.\" Marcus put a certainty into his voice that he didn't feel.\n\n\"We'll soon see.\"\n\nMarcus watched the approach of the riders impatiently. There was nothing for him to do, not now. The lieutenants would give the orders to load and fire, and they knew their business-or if they didn't, it was too late to teach them. The gleaming line of bayonets shifted slightly as the men on the sides of the square turned in place to face the oncoming tide. Marcus felt oddly detached as the huge cloud of dust glided toward them, like the leading edge of a sandstorm." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Level!\" The shout, from a dozen throats at once, brought Marcus back to reality. The horsemen were only sixty yards away, coming on at the gallop, and their shouts filled the air. Fifty yards, then forty-\n\nHe never heard the order to fire, only a single musket's crack followed by a roar that spread along the formation like ablaze catching in dry tinder. Two sides of the square flashed and boiled with smoke. He could see a few horses fall, but most of the effect was hidden by the dust. The first rank of soldiers knelt, bayonets braced in the dirt, while the third rank began to reload. The second had reserved their fire, the points of their blades projecting between the men of the first.\n\nThe last Marcus could truly see of the battle was the riders splitting against the point of the square, flowing around it like water breaking around a rock. Unable to charge home, they ended up riding along the faces of the formation, slashing impotently at the ranked bayonets. The second rank fired, and more horses went down. Then the dust of the riders' charge mingled with the smoke to obscure his view entirely. He could hear the calls of the sergeants, to load and fire, but the organized crash of volleys was gone now. Each man fired at fleeting targets, or at no target at all, flinging his lead into the gritty fog and trusting that some Redeemer would stop it. Muzzle flashes from outside the square showed here and there through the murk, but few of the riders had pistols or carbines. Those that did seldom got a second chance to use them-the unmistakable glare of a shot instantly drew a dozen answering blasts from the faces of the square.\n\nThe other squares were fighting, too. Marcus could hear the thunder of their fire, but for all he could see they might as well have been on the face of the moon. He glanced across at Janus. The colonel sat, reins held lightly in his hands, his eyes closed in contemplation. The expression on his face was utterly relaxed, lips curved in a slight smile. It made Marcus look away, uncomfortable, as though he'd walked in on his superior doing something private and sordid." }, { "from": "human", "value": "It went on that way, and on and on and on, longer than Marcus would have believed possible." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Out in the smoke, the riders circled, rode past, formed and charged, but all invisibly. Men fell on the faces of the square and were dragged into the center-here one who'd lost the fingers of one hand to a saber, there a boy with his elbow shattered by a carbine's bullet. One by one the square filled with these unfortunates. The toll on the Redeemers was worse, far worse. Marcus knew it had to be, but the only evidence was the shouts of men and the screaming of horses. He began to feel as though there was no end to the men out there, as though his own soldiers would be picked off, one by one, until only he and Janus remained, alone in the fog-\n\nThe colonel opened his eyes, and his smile broadened.\n\n\"Well,\" he said, \"that would appear to be that.\"\n\nIt was a few moments longer before Marcus realized he had the truth of it. The sound of hoofbeats on hard earth was fading, and the cracks of muskets sputtered out like a dying fire. The screams of the wounded, human and animal, seemed to rise in volume now that they were the only sounds on the field. Slowly, the fog of smoke and dust began to dissipate, prodded by the sea breeze.\n\nJanus flipped his reins abruptly, and his horse trotted toward the edge of the square. A lieutenant hastily pushed his men aside to make way. Marcus followed. Their mounts picked a careful path through the dead and dying men who littered the ground around the square until they had fought clear of the dusty murk and emerged into bright sunshine. Marcus was astonished to see how little the sun had progressed. He would have sworn they'd been fighting for hours.\n\nAll around them, the enemy were fleeing, toiling up the slope or galloping east and west along the coast road. None of them even paused fora look at the two horsemen in blue." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Well,\" Janus said, \"it seems the men are up to it.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He expressed no particular emotion at this, as though it were merely another piece of data in an interesting experiment. He stared into the distance fora moment, then turned to Marcus. \"Order the regiment back into column. We'll march clear of the field, rest a quarter of an hour, then continue down the road.\"\n\n\"Sir?\" The men would be exhausted. Marcus himself was quivering with released tension. A quarter of an hour didn't seem like nearly enough.\n\n\"We're not finished yet, Captain. You heard the scouts\" report. The enemy infantry awaits us.\"\n\n\"Might it not be better to withdraw, then?\" Marcus asked. \"We could take a strong position to the west-\"\n\n\"No,\" Janus said. \"We must press our advantage.\"\n\nMarcus was a little dubious that they had an advantage. By all accounts, the Redeemer host was at least twenty thousand strong, outnumbering the Vordanai army five to one. True, they were mostly peasants and fanatics recruited by the hysterical appeals of Redeemer priests, but twenty thousand men was still twenty thousand men.\n\n\"What about the casualties?\" he said.\n\nJanus pursed his lips. \"Detail a company to care for our wounded. The dead can wait until nightfall, as can the business of gathering prisoners.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\" That sat poorly as well. The men wouldn't like not being able to stop to bury their fallen comrades, although Marcus was dubious that they'd be able to bury anyone in the sun-scorched, iron-hard earth.\n\nBut orders were orders. Marcus rode in search of Fitz.\n\n---\n\nAvast cloud of dust marked the Redeemer army, rising above the coast road like a grounded thunderhead. A similar plume trailed the Vordanai column, leaving the rearmost battalion and the drivers in the train spitting grit. Marcus glanced sidelong at Janus, who was riding as carefree as if he were off to the theater." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Sir,\" Marcus said after awhile, in case the colonel hadn't noticed the looming cloud.\n\n\"Captain,\" Janus said, \"I'm aware that we have not reached the stage in our relationship where I have your full trust, but I hope you're prepared to believe that I'm not actually blind.\" He pointed a short way ahead. \"There's a bit of a ridge there, and the road veers slightly north. Not much, but every bit helps.\"\n\nAfter another few minutes, the colonel reined up, and Marcus stopped beside him. Fitz, in his role as aide-de-camp, was still trailing at a respectful distance. To Marcus'eye, there wasn't much to distinguish this barren patch of roadway from what they'd been riding along all day, but Janus seemed satisfied.\n\n\"This will do,\" he said. \"Draw up, all four battalions inline. Tell Captain Stokes to take the flanks, but that he's not to go riding off without my express orders. And find me Captain Vahkerson, if you would.\"\n\nMarcus nodded, still fighting the sour feeling in the pit of his stomach, and started dictating orders to Fitz. Before long the dust was everywhere, and with it the clatter and shouts of men getting into formation. The battalions went through the evolution from columns into long, three-deep lines with the usual hesitation and confusion, and Marcus winced every time a sergeant cut loose with an angry tirade. If Janus noticed or cared about the poor performance, however, he didn't show it.\n\nCaptain Vahkerson-the Preacher to all the Old Colonials-turned up, on foot and covered head to toe in dust. He saluted grimly.\n\n\"Lord's blessings be on you, sir,\" he said, doffing his peaked artilleryman's cap. He was a rail-thin man, with long, wiry arms patched with ancient powder burns. His hair was thinning from the top, as if in natural imitation of a monk's tonsure, but he maintained his ferocious beard and whiskers. A Church double circle, wrought in brass, hung around his neck and flashed when it caught the sun." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And you, Captain,\" Janus said solemnly. \"Bring up your guns. Half batteries on the flank and the outer intervals. Leave the center tome.\"\n\n\"Yessir,\" the Preacher said. \"We should have a nice field of fire once the dust clears.\"\n\n\"As to that,\" Janus said, \"you're to hold fire until the infantry opens. Load with double case and wait for my order, you understand?\"\n\n\"Sir?\" The captain frowned, then caught Janus'expression. \"As you say, sir. I'll see to it.\"\n\nJanus nodded, and glanced at Marcus as the artillerist hurried off. Marcus had been trying to keep his expression neutral, but Janus seemed to see through him without apparent effort. \"You don't approve, Captain?\"\n\n\"Just a thought, sir. A few rounds at five hundred yards might serve to break their momentum a bit.\"\n\n\"It would indeed. But is that really what we want?\" Janus favored him with a tight-lipped smile. \"Trust, Marcus. You'll see.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\" He caught sight of a familiar figure moving toward the front. \"Excuse me fora moment.\"\n\nMiss Alhundt was an awkward rider, Marcus was surprised to see, possibly even as bad as he was. He guided Meadow alongside her small Khandarai mount. She was in her usual brown coat and trousers, with her braid coiled and pinned at the back of her neck. Her spectacles were covered in bits of grit and dust, and she rubbed at them ineffectually with the back of one hand.\n\n\"Miss Alhundt,\" Marcus said, \"what exactly do you think you're doing?\"\n\n\"Observing,\" she said. \"His Grace commanded me to bean observer, and to do that I must observe, don't you think?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You can observe from the rear." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The firing line is no place fora-\" He almost said'woman,\" but sensed this would not go far toward convincing her. \"-a civilian.\"\n\n\"From the rear I wouldn't be able to see. I'm not averse to danger, Captain.\"\n\n\"This isn't the opera,\" Marcus snapped. \"Men are going to be dying herein a few minutes.\"\n\nShe nodded, unimpressed.\n\n\"Besides,\" he said, \"if our line breaks-\"\n\n\"I would be safer in the rear?\" She raised an eyebrow. \"That seems unlikely, unless you think the Redeemers would neglect to pillage the supply train. In fact, a position near the front makes it more likely that I would be killed outright in the event of a serious defeat, which frankly I would find preferable to the alternative.\"\n\n\"But-\"\n\n\"It's all right, Captain,\" Janus said from behind him. \"I asked Miss Alhundt to attend us.\"\n\nMarcus turned in his saddle. \"You asked her?\"\n\n\"Of course.\" He gave a thin smile. \"I would not want the Minister of Information to think I had anything to conceal.\"\n\nMiss Alhundt's expression turned stubborn, and she seemed about to argue, but he cut her off.\n\n\"Miss Alhundt, you have just come from the wagon train, I believe?\"\n\nShe nodded, disconcerted. \"Yes. Why?\"\n\n\"Did you happen to note what His Grace Prince Exopter was doing?\"\n\nHer lips twitched. \"Hiding, last I saw. He disappeared into that giant wagon of his around the time the Redeemer cavalry attacked, and hasn't come out since.\"\n\n\"I see. A pity.\" Janus glanced at Marcus. \"I invited His Grace to witness this as well, you see. I think it will prove an interesting lesson.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I wish I had half his confidence. Marcus looked back at the still-forming line. The Preacher had unlimbered his guns in the gaps between battalions, and some of his men were leading the teams back to a safe distance, while the rest started loading. Each round of case shot looked a bit like a battered tin bucket, closed at both ends, and the ammunition rattled and clanged as the gunners forced it down the barrels.\n\nAs the troops came into position and lapsed into stillness, all eyes were to the east, where the cloud of dust rising above the enemy host loomed larger every minute. Here and there, when a breeze cleared a patch, it was possible to see them-a seething mass of brown and black covering the narrow plain from the shore to the north to the edge of the southern ridge.\n\nThere seemed to be no end to the Khandarai army. If it really deserved the name'army.\" On the whole, Marcus thought not. It seemed to be more of a mob-no units, not even an attempt at organization, just a huge sea of humanity pressing forward in the desire to get to grips with the foe. Here and there he could pick out Redeemer priests, wrapped head to heel in black, walking backward in front of their flock so they could continue their harangues.\n\nThe'soldiers\" of this force would have been almost laughable in any other context. They were the sweepings of Ashe-Katarion, the poor fools who dwelt in the gutters and tenements, summoned to war by the priests' promises of retribution in this world and rewards in the next. Each was armed with whatever he had had to hand. There were swords and spears, a few muskets and blunderbusses, but also hoes, picks, and cudgels." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But there were so many of them. Twenty thousand, the reports had said; Marcus had noway to count them, but they seemed to goon forever. The flat ground around the road was fairly narrow, only a mile or so from the sea to the hills, and the Khandarai covered it like a swarm of locusts. Their charge would swamp the thin Vordanai line, and even if it didn't, the flanks were vulnerable. It would be easy for the Redeemers to circle around the edges and take the line of blue from the rear.\n\nWe were fools to leave the fort, Marcus thought. The ancient sandstone walls might have been useless against a modern army, but they certainly would have sufficed against this mob. Now, in the open, the Redeemers could bring their numbers to bear.\n\nThe leading edge of the host had advanced to within long cannon range. Some of them obviously knew it, and a shiver seemed to go through the whole force as individuals paused, tensed, waiting for the distant puffs of smoke and the scream of cannonballs. When it didn't come, they pressed onward, driven forward by those behind them.\n\nCloser, and closer still. When it became obvious that no fire was forthcoming from the Vordanai line, the Khandarai began to howl, and the priests sent up their weird, high-pitched cry. The swarm surged forward.\n\nJanus had a pair of lieutenants by his side to act as runners, and he summoned them with a crook of his finger.\n\n\"I will give the order to fire myself,\" he said. \"Make sure that's understood. Any man who shoots beforehand will have a great deal to answer for.\"\n\nThe young men scampered off. Marcus watched them go, then turned back to the approaching horde. They were in easy cannon range now. The Preacher's guns ought to have been pounding them, cannonballs snatching great gaps in those tight-packed ranks, carrying men away by the dozen. It might not have been enough-Marcus wasn't sure if anything would be enough-but it would be something. But Janus had ordered them loaded with double case, two rounds of tight-packed musket balls in thin metal shells, converting each piece into something like a giant shotgun. At close range, the effect would be fearful, but the wasted opportunity for fire made Marcus wince." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The priests were ahead of the wave of men, urging them on with their song and their example." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There was a slight slope up toward the Vordanai position, but the attackers slowed only a little. The front ranks, composed of those men most eager for blood, were a solid line of bristling steel of every description.\n\nMarcus spared a glance for his own men. The triple-ranked battalions stood, still as statues, muskets already loaded and at the ready. Here and there, Marcus saw a man turn to look anxiously over his shoulder, as though to make sure the road was still open behind them in case a hasty flight became necessary. The sergeants, prowling behind the ranks, raised a shout if any man looked for too long.\n\nSteady, Marcus decided, but only for the moment. Mor wasn't the only one who'd worked out the odds. The Old Colonials hadn't survived in Khandar by fighting unwinnable battles. As for the recruits, Marcus could remember the balance of pride and terror he'd felt the first time he'd gone into action. The pride would hold them fora while, but if that balance tipped toward terror they'd break badly. When that happened, the whole line would give way at once.\n\nThe colonel looked at the approaching enemy, gray eyes shining, nothing on his face but serene confidence. He seemed almost a different man hereon the battlefield, as though some madness had taken hold of him. Val had told him that camp gossip said the colonel was insane. Marcus hadn't paid it any mind, since soldiers said the same of practically every officer who made a decision they didn't agree with. Now, though, looking at the gleam in those huge eyes-\n\nHe glanced at Miss Alhundt, and found her looking at Janus as well. When she turned to Marcus, their gazes met, and a spark of understanding leapt between them. She sees it, too. Marcus was filled with a sudden terror-if he really was mad, it was too late, too late to do anything but run-" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Move the narrative forward in collaboration with the writer.\nTags: fantasy, flintlock fantasy, military\nAuthor: Django Wexler\nTitle: The Thousand Names\nChapter: 16" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The southern approach to the village would therefore be watched, even by night. The sergeant's circuitous route would take him as far north as the canal well to the east of the village, however, and hopefully stand a good chance of getting near the garrison undetected.\n\nAny sign that the little party was in place would be tantamount to failure, but Marcus couldn't help staring after them, trying to make his eyes resolve shapes in the darkened village by sheer force of will. Eventually he gave it up and started back to rejoin the Old Colonials, who were camped in the muddy fields up the road far enough to be out of sight of the Auxiliary garrison.\n\nNot much to do now but wait.\n\n---\n\nJust after first light, with the sun still below the horizon and the sky a deep blue-gray, the Vordanai column began to form upon the outskirts of town. It was an ostentatious display-battalion flags flying, drummers beating for all they were worth, lieutenant and sergeants screaming orders-and by forming in columns of companies the Colonials partially masked the fact that each battalion was only a third the size it was supposed to be. Once these noisy preparations had been completed, the line advanced up the gentle slope toward the point of the triangular town and the stone-built temple that dominated it.\n\nThe Auxiliary garrison was not inclined to stay to receive them. They had been deployed to protect the ford against raiding parties, not to try to impede a general Vordanai advance, and clearly here were the'corpses\" inconsiderable force. A few desultory shots rang out from the windows of the temple as the blue line came closer, at far too long a range to find their targets, and then the company of Khandarai retreated in good order through the center of town. Their duty now was to rejoin their main body and report on what they'd seen, and accordingly their lieutenant marched his men hastily up the road and toward the ford." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They were insight of the canal when shots rang out from all sides, billows of smoke rising from the buildings lining the road and behind the embankment. Argot's men, slipping past the sentries in the darkness, had taken up positions close to the ford from which they could direct a lively fire at the Khandarai column. Men fell, screaming, and in a panic the Auxiliaries spread out, seeking whatever cover they could find. A few shot back, trying to pick out blue-uniformed men crouching in doorways or behind windows, and fora few moments the racket of the firefight drowned out all other sound.\n\nThen, during a brief lull, a voice called in Khandarai for surrender. The Auxiliary lieutenant hesitated-the Redeemers were not kind to those who failed in the line of duty-but the choice was obvious. The way ahead was clearly blocked by an enemy force of unknown strength, and in the sudden quiet the drums of the main Vordanai line were quite audible. In any event, his men made the decision for him. First singly, then in twos and threes, they emerged from hiding with hands raised.\n\n---\n\n\"All in all,\" Adrecht said, \"not a bad morning's work. A dozen enemy dead and a hundred prisoners, in exchange for one man taking a bit of a bump on the noggin.\"\n\nThat had been one of Argot's, slightly injured when a shelf had collapsed on top of him during the firefight. Marcus permitted himself a smile.\n\n\"Don't forget the lost night's sleep,\" he said.\n\n\"If we can trade a night's sleep fora company in the bag, I think we'll come out ahead.\"\n\nAdrecht stretched his arms over his head and yawned. He'd been able to put his head down fora few hours. Marcus himself had been too keyed up, thinking about Argot creeping into position and scanning the eastern horizon for signs of the rising sun." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Are they all accounted for?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Marcus said.\n\n\"Yup. Their lieutenant is still doing his fence-post imitation, but a few of the sergeants were more talkative. Looks like we got them clean.\"\n\nThe midnight raid had served its purpose, then. News that the Vordanai had seized the ford had not escaped north of the river.\n\n\"Good,\" he said. \"That's good.\"\n\nHe turned his eyes north. The two officers stood outside the front door of the temple, on the low hill that dominated the village and the soggy fields beyond. From here Marcus could seethe sludgy brown waters of the canal and a good bit of the land beyond. The horizon was thus far reassuringly empty.\n\nAdrecht followed his gaze. \"You think they're coming? Maybe we moved fast enough they won't get the news at all.\"\n\n\"They're coming. That first bunch, where we crossed, sent messengers in both directions as soon as they saw they were in fora scrap.\" He shrugged. \"Besides, we haven't got the men to watch the whole canal line. It'd be easy enough fora single messenger to swim. No, Khtoba knows that we're across, and that means his troops aren't doing any good at Westbridge.\"\n\n\"He still might march them through the city, instead of up the river road.\"\n\n\"If he does, they'll be too late to do any good.\" Assuming Janus wins the battle in the south. The colonel had taken the majority of the Colonials to pounce on the other half of Khtoba's divided army, but even that would only give him roughly even odds. He forced himself not to worry about that. Concentrate on our own problems. \"Either way, we should assume they'll try to force a crossing.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Stopping three battalions is going to be a hell of a job.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Adrecht looked down at the village with a professional eye. \"There's no cover on the bank itself. The shacks are worth something, but if they bring up guns it'll be trouble. Even a four-pounder could probably reach us from the other bank, and anything heavier...\" He shook his head. \"If the damn Khandarai would build their houses out of something a bit more substantial, we'd have more to work with. What I wouldn't give fora proper Vordanai country village.\"\n\n\"I think stone and timber are in shorter supply around here than back home,\" Marcus said. He glanced at the temple behind them. \"We can hold inhere, though.\"\n\nAdrecht grunted. \"Hold, sure. But if it comes to that...\" He trailed off sourly.\n\nMarcus followed the thought. The temple made fora reasonable blockhouse, with thick stonewalls and a heavy timber roof. The windows were tall and narrow, and began a considerable distance from the ground. The main doors looked solid, and in any case could be reinforced by a barricade. It was big enough to hold two or three companies, at least, and he wouldn't want to have to take on the task of assaulting it if he were on the other side.\n\nBut if it got that desperate-a last-ditch defense that far from the ford-they'd be surrounded for certain. Once the Auxiliaries broke out into the open, their greater numbers would let them circle around and cutoff any possible retreat.\n\n\"We'll hope it doesn't come to that,\" Marcus said. \"Get the men started loopholing the shacks by the canal, and tell Lieutenant Archer to start setting his guns up at the top of the embankment. We'll have to work on something to camouflage them-\" Marcus felt suddenly light-headed. He putout a hand to steady himself on the wall of the temple, missed, and took a few stumbling steps before Adrecht caught his arm." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'll take care of it,\" the other captain said. \"Get some sleep.\"\n\n\"You'll wake me if there's trouble?\"\n\nAdrecht smiled. \"I swear to it. Go.\"\n\nMarcus lurched away, his feet suddenly feeling like they'd grown thirty-pound weights. Inside the temple, the air was dusty, and the floor tracked with mud and bits of smashed furniture. The crews that Adrecht directed inside, later in the day, were astonished to find their senior captain stretched out on a surviving bench, jacket wadded up as a pillow, snoring loud enough to wake the dead." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Take the knife-\"\n\nWinter opened her eyes. The light was the familiar blue-gray of the morning sun filtered through the faded canvas of her tent, but her lips still tingled from the kiss. When she blinked, tears spilled from her eyes.\n\n\"You were dreaming,\" said a voice in Khandarai. Feor. Winter sat up abruptly, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.\n\n\"How did you guess?\"\n\n\"You were speaking to someone,\" the girl said, propped upon one elbow in her bedroll on the other side of the tent.\n\nWinter cursed silently. If she'd started talking in her sleep, there would be no keeping her secret. \"What did I say?\"\n\n\"Nothing I could understand.\" Feor raised an eyebrow. \"In the cloister, there was a young man who dreamed of the future. Was it that sort of dream?\"\n\n\"No,\" Winter said. She could still feel the brush of Jane's hair against her face. \"I dreamed about the first time I fell in love.\"\n\n\"Ah.\" Feor fell silent, and Winter gave her a look.\n\n\"I suppose priestesses aren't allowed to fall in love?\"\n\n\"No,\" the girl said, serious as always. \"We are permitted to take our pleasure with the eckmahl, the eunuch servants, but love...\" She caught Winter's expression. \"Is something wrong?\"\n\n\"Just surprised,\" Winter muttered. \"In Vordan, priests and nuns are expected to be chaste.\"\n\n\"I pity them, then,\" Feor said. \"It seems unnatural.\"\n\nAs opposed to taking little boys and cutting off their balls? But she declined to begin that argument. By the amount of light filtering in through the canvas, she could tell it was past dawn. Before she'd made it across the room to her jacket, the drumroll started, at the double-quick pace that meant'to arms.\" Winter pulled on her uniform coat, buttoned it, and was working on her socks when there was a rap at the tent pole." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That you, Bobby?\" she said, without looking up.\n\n\"Yessir,\" came the boy's voice from outside.\n\n\"I'll be therein a moment.\" Winter turned to Feor. \"We're not breaking camp today, so you should be all right here.\"\n\nThe girl nodded. \"You will fight today?\"\n\n\"Probably.\"\n\n\"Then I wish you luck.\"\n\n\"Even though I'll be killing your countrymen?\"\n\n\"The men of the Redemption are no countrymen of mine,\" Feor said, with a rare hint of ire. Then her expression turned worried. \"Winter-dan-Ihernglass. If...\"\n\nShe trailed off, lips pressed together. Winter forced a smile.\n\n\"It'll be fine. Try not to worry.\" She finished lacing her boots and got to her feet. \"We should be back by evening.\"\n\nFeor nodded. Winter ducked through the flap and into the gray morning light, where her three corporals were waiting. Around them, the men of the Seventh Company were piling out of their tents like ants from a smashed anthill. Since they were planning to return to camp by evening, they could march light, and the soldiers were taking this opportunity to shed all the kettles, utensils, spare clothing, extra biscuits, and miscellaneous loot that somehow ended up in every ranker's pack.\n\nBobby was smartly dressed and bright-eyed, as usual. Whatever fit of melancholy had come over him on the pier had apparently passed. He hadn't said anything to Winter about her promise, and she hadn't brought it up. He saluted crisply and handed her a half sheet of flimsy paper.\n\n\"Orders from Lieutenant Warus, sir!\" he said. \"The First will betaking the left center of the line. We've got half an hour to report to the south field.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Right,\" Winter said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then, because it seemed like a sergeant-y thing to do, she shouted, \"Hurry it up! You've got fifteen minutes!\"\n\nIt was in fact more like twenty minutes, but the Seventh was still among the first companies on the field. A thin line of blue stood at attention, thickening by the minute as more troops filed in and were directed to their places. Captain d'Ivoire had taken the Old Colonials with him and even after a week on the march the recruits still presented a nicely uniform appearance. Their uniforms were no longer factory-crisp, but they were still deep Vordanai blue, and the dawning sun gleamed off gunmetal and polished buttons.\n\nTo the left of the First Battalion was the Third, whose Captain Kaanos was barking orders to everyone insight. Fitz Warus stood quietly by his side. Kaanos, with his bushy eyebrows and bushy beard and sideburns, resembled a bear and had a voice and temper to match. Winter hurried her company into position, then took up her place in the center file of the front rank.\n\nWhether she should stand in the ranks was something of a sticky question. The proper position of a senior sergeant was the center of the first of three ranks, while his junior sergeant took a similar position in the rear. The leftmost and rightmost files of the company were supposed to be composed of corporals, while the lieutenant had no place in the ranks at all. He stood in front of the men for inspection and behind them in battle, which as far as Winter was concerned said all that needed to be said about officers. While she had, technically, been brevetted to lieutenant, she couldn't bear the thought of acting that way. Fortunately for her, the Seventh Company was conspicuously under-officered, with only three corporals and no sergeants at all, so there was no one to argue with her choice of position." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Ahead of the forming line, the senior officers gathered." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She recognized Captain Solwen of the Second, in charge of the other pair of battalions along with a lieutenant she didn't know. Directly in front of her and ahorse was Colonel Vhalnich himself, talking with Give-Em-Hell and the Preacher. The colonel's mood was foul. The approach march had been plagued with delays, culminating in a loss of nearly six hours' marching time when a supply wagon, attempting to jump its place inline after a rest halt, had broken an axle in a ditch and snarled the guns and rearguard. The recruits had quickly become disorganized, and sorting everyone out had consumed the rest of the day. The colonel had been furious.\n\nThe time lost had given General Khtoba the chance to abandon his low-lying position by the Tsel ford and retreat to high ground, a stretch of rocky scrubland that rose from the surrounding fields like the low dome of an overturned rowboat. The Colonial camp was near the base of it, in a miserable patch of watery earth churned to mud by the passage of thousands of boots. There had been talk that Khtoba might retreat from even this position, and fallback all the way to Ashe-Katarion, but the scouts had him still in place on the summit.\n\nThe ranks were filling out as company after company trickled in, leaving behind the supply train and a few camp guards to watch for Desoltai raiders. The colonel summoned the two infantry captains and dictated a few orders; these two in turn went back to their assigned positions and conferred with their lieutenants. Winter looked left and right, checking her company's alignment against those on either side. Corporal Folsom stood two ranks directly behind her, in the junior sergeant's position, while Bobby and Graff headed the left– and rightmost files. In between, the rest of the Seventh-considerably diminished compared to the companies around it-stood in three ranks with shouldered muskets." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lieutenant Warus, after a few words with Captain Kaanos, walked back to the First and gestured for attention. His immaculate appearance was spoiled somewhat by the mud, which had already coated his boots and splattered his trousers.\n\nWhen he had the eyes of all six companies, he raised his voice and said, \"I've never been one for speeches. The Auxiliaries are up there\"-he jabbed a finger at the hill-\"and we're going to go and get them. There's no time for anything fancy. Just remember that when all's said and done, you are the Vordanai Royal Army and they area pack of grayskins. All their guns and fancy uniforms were a gift from us. If not for us they'd be out herewith clubs and spears! General Khtoba used to say that his men were as good as any troops from the continent. I expect you to prove him wrong!\"\n\nWinter, who'd read a bit about Khandarai history, knew that was laying it on a bit thick. She suspected Lieutenant Warus knew it as well, but he was playing to the crowd, and it had the desired effect. A cheer rose from the recruits, and Winter added her voice.\n\nColonel Vhalnich drew his sword, steel glittering in the sun, and slashed it down in a peremptory gesture.\n\n\"Ordinary pace!\" Fitz shouted. \"Form column of companies, and prepare to advance!\"\n\n---\n\nThe first they saw of the Auxiliaries was the flashes from their guns.\n\nThere had been a general sigh of relief as the Colonials marched out of the irrigated fields with their clinging mud and onto the good, solid ground of the rock outcrop. The regiment advanced as four columns-not the long, winding column of march but squat columns of battle, with a forty-man front and the companies stacked up one behind the other. The Seventh Company was third inline, and the regulation four-yard gap between its front rank and the rear rank of the Sixth Company ahead meant that Winter had a better view of the action than the men stuck in the second rank behind her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Each battalion column was separated from the others by a good hundred yards or so, to give them room to maneuver and eventually deploy into line. In those intervals came the single battery of light guns that Colonel Vhalnich had brought along. The guns were still limbered, hitched up and facing backward, and the teams of horses strained to drag the weapons and their caissons up the increasing slope. The gunners in their peaked artillery caps walked alongside, shouting good-natured taunts at the infantry on either side, which the rankers cheerfully returned. Winter caught sight of the Preacher off to her left walking behind a two-gun section, his lips moving in silent prayer.\n\nShe couldn't seethe cavalry from her position, but when the advance had begun she'd watched them ride off to either side, taking up positions on the outside flanks of the formation. Give-Em-Hell had been the subject of particularly extensive instructions from the colonel, and he'd gone off looking pleased, so presumably he had some important role to play. For the moment, Winter's attention was occupied with searching the crest of the hill for the enemy, occasionally sparing a glance to either side to make sure her company's ranks stayed even.\n\nWhen guns started to flash ahead, it was a moment before she realized what she was seeing. The booms, like the grumble of distant thunder, arrived a moment later, followed by the hair-raising whistle of solid shot. The lines of recruits shivered, like wheat trembling in the breeze, as every man instinctively ducked and shied away.\n\n\"Stand up straight, you goddamn cowards!\" Folsom roared, battle loosening his tongue. \"You think leaning a little is going to get you out of the way of a cannonball?\"\n\nSimilar admonitions were handed out by sergeants up and down the line. The advance paused only briefly. The drums picked up again, going from the ordinary pace to the quickstep, and the march continued." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The range was still long, even given the advantage of height." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Most of the balls went overhead, passing with a whine or a weird warbling trill. Others fell short, raising small explosions of dust and soil where they bounced or plowed into a furrow. She watched one shot jump three or four times off the rocky ground, puffs rising at steadily decreasing intervals, like a stone expertly skipped across the surface of a pond.\n\nWinter saw the first hit, on the Third Battalion. The ball hit the ground just beside the rearmost company, raising a cloud of dust and chips of rock, and skipped off at a low angle. It passed diagonally through the block of marching men as though they were nothing more than a thick mist, leaving nothing but wreckage in its wake. The first screams rose, along with the shouts of the sergeants to closeup the ranks. The march went on, leaving the little patch of blue and red behind.\n\nThe Preacher's guns were still limbered, pushing forward as fast as their teams could drive them. At least six guns were inaction now just below the crest of the ridge, and Winter could seethe Auxiliary infantry, too, a solid line of brown and tan waiting behind their artillery at the hill's highest point. They looked solid and unshakable, a dense block of men waiting to receive the fragile Vordanai columns with fire and bayonets, and she felt a sudden thrill of fear. Flags flew above each of the Khandarai battalions, crude white things daubed with the rising-flames symbol of the Redemption.\n\nThe Khandarai gunners were firing as fast as they could load their pieces, and as the Colonials closed the range the shots became more accurate. Roundshot screamed overhead, cracked and shivered off the rocky ground, and plunged among the marching blue-coated columns. One shot caught three men from the company ahead of hers, snatching them suddenly out of line as though they'd been grabbed by an invisible giant. Winter fixed her eyes dead ahead as her company marched over the corpses, and tried not to think about what might be underfoot." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The lead companies were taking the brunt of the punishment, and it was sometime before the Seventh was hit." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Even that was an accident; a ball caromed off a buried rock and came down at a high angle, plunging in among her men before bouncing merrily out again. It was as sudden as a thunderbolt from on high. A blast of dust and splinters of rock, screams and curses, and a gap in the ranks.\n\n\"Closeup!\" Folsom shouted, and the other corporals echoed him. Winter added her own voice, hoping no one could hear the trembling. \"Closeup! Closeup!\"\n\nMovement at the edges of the line caught her eye. The Auxiliaries were in motion, and at first she couldn't understand why; then she saw blue-coated figures on horseback around both ends of the line, and she realized they were forming square. They did it with enviable precision, going through the evolutions as neatly as a parade, until two-thirds of the Khandarai line had transformed into diamond shapes bristling with bayonets. Even Give-Em-Hell knew better than to charge home against that with his handful of men, and the cavalry broke off well before contact. Even so, smoke puffed from one face of the square, and Winter saw a few horsemen tumble from their saddles.\n\nA heavy roar, closer to her, returned her attention to more immediate matters. The Vordanai guns had finally unlimbered and turned about, and there were scattered cheers from the infantry as someone hit back at their tormentors. The deep-throated boom of friendly guns blended with the more distant rumble of the enemy pieces into a solid wall of noise, like a thunderstorm that never ended. The Preacher's artillerymen, firing uphill, had a harder shot than their Khandarai counterparts, but the Auxiliaries had presented them with a near-perfect target-the squares were combat masses, outlined against the midmorning sky. Soon gaps began to appear in the brown-coated line as well, and to close just as quickly as Khandarai sergeants shoved their men sideways." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The drums changed their tempo again, and Winter recognized the intermittent beats of a command. It was reinforced a moment later by a messenger on horseback, shouting over the tumult. She caught only apiece of what he said, but that was enough.\n\n\"Halt!\" she shouted. \"Form line!\"\n\nThis, at least, they had practiced on the drill field. The lead company halted in place, while those behind marched sideways, then forward, until they came up alongside their fellows to form a solid three-rank line. That was the theory, in any case. Doing it now, with roundshot whistling overhead and occasionally plowing through the ranks, while the drums were drowned out by the roaring of their own guns, was a bit more difficult. Winter had to leave her place in the ranks when her company came up beside the Fifth, to disentangle Bobby's end of the line where it had accidentally overlapped with the other.\n\nThe boy saluted as she hurried over, and between them they managed to get the men pushed sideways into their proper places. Winter was glad to seethe corporal was unharmed, for the moment. His face was pale as milk, but his expression seemed determined. She wondered, briefly, about her own complexion. Her stomach churned with acid, and her heartbeat faster than the drums.\n\nBobby opened his mouth to say something, but a blast from one of the Preacher's guns drowned the words. Winter shook her head and clapped the boy on the shoulder, then hurried back to the center of the line. She got there just in time. The drums thrilled again, then settled back into the quickstep, and the whole long formation lurched into motion. At the center of each battalion, the Vordanai colors were unfurled, the golden eagle of Vordan on a blue field and the king's diving falcon. They made for wonderful targets, and Winter sent up a silent prayer of thanks that her company was not expected to carry one." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Occasional rattles of musketry indicated that the Vordanai cavalry were still playing a deadly game of tag with the ends of the Khandarai line, spurring in close when they gave any sign of weakening their square formation and then turning away when the lines of bayonets firmed up. The Preacher's guns were all inaction now, throwing their shot through the gaps in the advancing line of blue. The Auxiliaries seemed to be standing the fire at least as well as the Colonials.\n\nAs the Vordanai line drew closer, the rumbles of the guns died away. Winter could seethe Khandarai gunners hastily swabbing out their pieces and ramming anew round home, but the next shot didn't come. It felt like a reprieve, until she realized why, and then her breath seemed to freeze in her throat.\n\nCanister. The next round would be the last, unless the gunners planned to load their weapons under fire, and they meant to make it count. That last shot would be a canister load, more effective at close range, and so they were waiting.\n\nIt seemed to Winter that one of the guns was pointed directly at her. She could practically look down the barrel, a tiny black hole that seemed to expand until it filled her entire world. She felt as though she could see all the way down it to where the tin of shot waited, balanced atop its load of powder.\n\nShe knew, suddenly, that she was going to die. It wasn't fear-she'd gone beyond that, somehow, and come out the other side. Just a cold, icy certainty that one of the balls in that cannon had her name carved on the side, that some invisible string of fate would draw it to her unerringly like iron to a magnet. Her legs moved automatically, one step and then another, matching the pace of the drum. If she tripped, she thought that she'd keep going through the motions, legs pumping stupidly in the dust like a windup toy. There was no room in her world for anything else, just the drums and the ground and the distant, deadly mouth of the cannon." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When the blast finally came, there wasn't even time to flinch. The guns erupted with a flash and a billow of thick gray smoke and a crump like a collapsing building. Instead of the whistle of solid shot there was a pitpitpit like soft rain, the zip of balls passing overhead, and the horrible thock when they found flesh.\n\nWinter kept marching. She wanted to run, to hide, to scream. Most of all she wanted to search every inch of her body until she found where the ball had caught her. She hadn't felt it, but that didn't mean anything. She didn't dare look down, for fear of seeing her own guts hanging around her ankles, or one arm shot clean away.\n\nBeside her, a ranker-George, she recalled, and wished she could remember his family name-groaned and collapsed into the dust. The man behind him stepped past without looking down, and the ranks of blue closed around him, like a pond closing over a dropped rock.\n\nThe Seventh had been spared the worst of the volley. Two companies down, the main force of one of the blasts had gone through all three ranks and punched a dozen men off their feet, with more limping or rolling away clutching their wounds. Up ahead, in the smoke, the gunners were falling back, leaving their pieces behind to retreat to the safety of the main Khandarai line. That line, visible now through the drifting gunsmoke, stood firm in spite of the Vordanai artillery still slamming away at long range. Bayonets bristled up and down the ranks as the brown-coated soldiers stood at attention. All at once, at an unheard command from their officers, they brought their muskets to their shoulders.\n\nLooking left and right, Winter thought fora moment she could seethe battle the way Colonel Vhalnich must see it. Only one battalion of Khandarai was still inline, all its muskets available to deliver a single deadly volley, and that was the one facing the First and Second. On the flanks, the threat of a cavalry charge had forced the Auxiliaries to take shelter in protective squares, and they'd wasted their initial volleys trying to drive Give-Em-Hell and his men away. The Third and Fourth Battalions would face much less fire than they could deliver, and if the Auxiliaries tried tore-form now, there was every chance the Vordanai could charge home in the confusion." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That was small comfort to her, though. The forest of muskets in front of her seemed to stretch on forever. The men of the first rank knelt, allowing the second rank's weapons to sight over their shoulders. It seemed impossible that anything would survive, let alone enough men to mount an effective attack, but the drums behind her beat on unconcerned, driving her forward like a clockwork automaton.\n\nThe volley exploded around them like a lightning strike, the flash of a thousand muskets going off at once almost immediately obscured by a billow of gunsmoke. Balls twittered and zinged past, and men screamed and cursed all around her. For an instant Winter expected to take her next step forward alone, every other soldier cut to ribbons by the deadly fire, but in fact only a dozen that she could see fell out of place in the front rank. They slumped over silently or with a shout, or fell backward, or dropped to their knees and crawled away. Around them, the march went on, driven by the relentless drums.\n\nSomewhere in the cloud of smoke, the Khandarai were reloading. She wondered how long it would take them. She wondered what would happen when they had marched all the way, when they were so close the Auxiliaries could hardly miss.\n\n\"Closeup!\" Folsom was shouting, and Graff along with him. \"Closeup!\"\n\nBobby. She couldn't hear him. Winter looked frantically in his direction, but the line was solid now, and she couldn't tell if the boy was still in place or not.\n\nThe drums trilled, stopped, and picked out a different rhythm. Winter stumbled onward a half step before she registered the change, and had to shuffle backward to rejoin the line. Her legs burned as though they'd been dipped in oil and set alight." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Ready!\"\n\nShe wasn't sure if she gave the shout or not, but it echoed up and down the line, and the men obeyed. Winter knelt in place with the rest of the first rank, though she had no musket to shoulder. A pair of barrels swung into place over her head.\n\n\"Level!\" This time she was shouting with the rest, in time to the drums.\n\n\"Fire!\"\n\nThe world flashed white, as though lightning had struck afoot from her face, and then boiling gray gunsmoke washed over her. The smell of it, dense and acrid, drilled through her nostrils and into the back of her skull.\n\n\"Fix bayonets!\"\n\nThe drums must have beat that order, too, but she could no longer hear them. The cry passed up and down the line, from one officer to another, and the long triangular blades came out of their sheaths and snapped into place.\n\nThen, at last, the drums broke through, with a heavy fast beat that was the simplest order of all. Winter, throat scraped raw, couldn't hear her own voice.\n\n\"Charge!\"\n\nThe order was drowned by a roar from the men, a growling cry that grew to a scream. They threw themselves into a run, bayonet-tipped muskets leveled at the waist like spears, churning the drifting smoke into boiling vortices as they passed through. Winter ran with them, only belatedly remembering to draw the sword at her belt. They'd given her one from the stores-lieutenants had to carry a sword, after all-and the grip felt slick and uncertain in her hand. The blade still gleamed with factory polish.\n\nDamn stupid thing, she had time to think, bringing a sword to a musket duel-" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Plunging out of the smoke of their own volley, the Colonials broke momentarily into the open. Ahead loomed the abandoned Khandarai guns, and behind them the vague, menacing shapes of the Auxiliary line, shrouded in a haze of their own. Muskets started to flash along that line, not as a volley but individually. Winter heard the zip and twang of balls, and saw men fall, but the impetus of the charge was not so easily stopped. After the long, painful march, the Colonials had the enemy in their grasp, and they would not be denied.\n\nShe expected a collision-two lines slamming against each other, bayonets crossed in a vicious scrum-but it never happened. By the time the leading Vordanai were a dozen yards away, the Auxiliaries started to waver. First in ones and twos, then all at once, they turned and ran for the rear. The neat line of brown and tan dissolved into a chaos of running, shoving, shouting men, with here and there an officer trying to restore order.\n\nThe Colonials fell on those who were slow, or who'd gotten jammed up with their fellows. Winter stumbled to a halt, sword still raised, and the blue tide washed past her. She watched as brown-coated figures fell, run through from behind, stabbed while trying to crawl away, clubbed down with fists or musket butts. In seconds, there was no one still standing within sight. The rush of men had moved on, chasing the fleeing Khandarai, out the other side of the smoke and across the hill.\n\nSomeone grabbed Winter by the shoulder. She spun, sword still in hand, and Graff had to duck to avoid losing an ear.\n\n\"Sir!\" he said, sounding distant and tinny. \"It's me, sir!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Sorry,\" she mumbled. Her mouth felt clotted with grit, and she could taste the salty tang of powder. Mechanically, she tried to sheathe her sword, and managed it on the third attempt.\n\n\"Are you all right, sir?\" When she only looked at him blankly, he raised his voice and said, \"Sergeant! Are you all right?\"\n\nSome light was beginning to breakthrough the clouds that had enveloped Winter's brain. She shook her head, trying to clear it, and then at Graff's look of alarm she raised a hand and said, \"Fine. I'm fine.\"\n\nGraff grinned and clapped heron the shoulder. \"We did it!\"\n\nWe did? She looked around, blinking. Brown-uniformed bodies carpeted the ground, broken here and thereby a splotch of blue. Out in the smoke, the now-silent guns loomed like distant ruins.\n\n\"Grayskins look pretty enough, but they haven't got much of a taste for steel,\" Graff said, sounding satisfied.\n\n\"Bobby,\" Winter said, suddenly remembering. The Lord Above loves irony. \"Have you seen Bobby?\"\n\nGraff shook his head. \"I was at the other end of the line. He'll be up therewith the rest, I'd wager. The young ones always get a little hot-blooded.\"\n\nWinter stared into the smoke, in the direction they'd come. The slope they'd climbed was littered with human wreckage. Graff, following her gaze, shifted uncomfortably.\n\n\"Come on,\" he said. \"We've got tore-form. This may not be over.\"\n\n---\n\nBut it was. The First and Second Battalions, as Winter had guessed, had had by far the hardest climb. On the flanks, the Khandarai had broken at the first volley, trapped as they were in ineffective squares. Give-Em-Hell's pursuing horsemen had reaped a rich harvest, and whole companies had thrown down their weapons and surrendered. The survivors-which, they'd learned from prisoners, included General Khtoba himself-showed no sign of halting anywhere short of the city gates. The colonel sent the cavalry to harry them as best they could, and set the rest of the troops to collecting the wounded and preparing the dead for burial." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The boasting and cheers of the men had died away as they clambered down the slope and began the bloody business. Those of the wounded who could still walk, or even crawl, had already made their way back toward the Vordanai camp, so those that remained were either unconscious, dead, or too badly hurt to move. Pairs of soldiers with stretchers came and went nonstop, carrying the badly wounded toward the growing hospital, while other details dragged or carried the dead to be laid neatly at the base of the hill. Still others collected salvageable detritus-muskets, ammunition, canteens, and spare flints. It was along way to the nearest Vordanai depot, and the colonel had ordered that nothing was to be wasted.\n\nWinter went straight to the spot where she thought Bobby had fallen, but there were so many bodies in blue. It was Folsom who found the boy in the end, curled up like a baby, hands pressed against his stomach. His face was so pale that Winter thought he must be dead, but when Folsom and Graff rolled him onto his back he gave a low groan and his eyelids fluttered. His hands fell limp to his sides, exposing a gory patch on his midriff, his bloody uniform now caked with sticky dirt.\n\n\"Hell,\" Graff said softly. \"Poor kid.\" He looked up at Winter, then shook his head. \"Better call fora stretcher. Get him to a cutter-\"\n\n\"No.\" The firmness in Winter's voice surprised herself. \"Folsom, help me carry him. We'll take him back to my tent.\"\n\n\"What?\" Graff narrowed his eyes. \"Sir-\"\n\n\"I promised him,\" Winter said. \"No cutters. You'll have to do what you can for him yourself.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The corporal lowered his voice. \"He's dead, sir. Hit like that, in the bowels, it'll fester certain as sunrise, even if he doesn't bleed out.\"\n\nWinter watched Bobby's face. His eyes were screwed tightly shut, and if he'd heard what Graff had said he gave no sign.\n\n\"Then it won't matter if we take him to the cutters or not, will it?\" she said. \"Do it, Corporal.\"\n\nFolsom bent down and picked Bobby up, gentle as a mother handling a babe. Even so, afresh welling of blood cut through the dirt and washed down the boy's stomach. Winter bit her lip.\n\n\"Sir...,\" Graff said.\n\n\"My tent,\" she told Folsom. \"Now.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was the evening of the third day before the Auxiliaries turned up, and the Old Colonials made good use of the time. The houses closest to the waterfront had loopholes bashed in their walls, other houses were torn down and converted into barricades in the streets and alleys, and the big twelve-pounder cannon were carefully concealed behind screens of debris and thatch. By the third day, Marcus found that his nervousness had faded and been replaced by a kind of excitement. Let them walk into this. We're ready.\n\nWhen they did come, they were in a hurry. From his vantage point on the hill, Marcus watched their leading battalion approach the ford in a straggly column of march. He'd held out some hope that they were so poorly informed that they would simply push straight across, but obviously some word had leaked out in spite of his precautions. But, with the sun already setting, either the Auxiliary commander was feeling hasty or else he'd underestimated the size of the force opposing him. Either way, no sooner had the enemy battalion arrived than it formed up into a battle column and splashed into the shallows.\n\nWhat followed must have been a nightmare for the Khandarai. Marcus had briefed his unit commanders for exactly this situation. No shots were fired until the leading enemy company had come ashore on the near bank. Then the screen of debris was dragged aside to reveal the gleaming muzzles of the scripture-inscribed twelve-pounders. The guns belched smoke and canister shot, sweeping away whole swaths of the lead Auxiliary company and turning the river white with froth halfway out into the ford. At the same time, the hidden Vordanai began a steady rain of musketry on the survivors.\n\nThe result was everything Marcus had hoped for. The head of the column dissolved in panic, wounded men trying to get to safety while their unhit comrades scrambled fora way out of the killing ground. There was no cover to be had except directly ahead, where the slope of the embankment offered some shelter against the thunder of the guns, and dozens of the enemy chose to throw themselves under that rocky verge. The rest recoiled out into the river, scrambling out of range of the muskets. The boom of the guns followed them, flailing the water with canister." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Only when they'd nearly gotten out of canister range did Marcus send a messenger to the other half of the battery, three more guns concealed behind a house on the riverbank. These were quickly dragged into position while the guns in the town switched to roundshot, and soon all six pieces were firing in long arcs over the river and into the milling men pulling themselves out of the water on the other side. Leading elements of the second Khandarai battalion had arrived in the meantime, only adding to the confusion. At that range the artillery fire was more galling than devastating, but the gunners bent to their work with gusto and kept it up until both enemy units finally pulled together enough to retreat out of range.\n\nIn the interim, Marcus sent three companies down to the riverbank. The Auxiliaries who'd taken shelter there were in no state to fight, many having abandoned their weapons or gotten their powder wet in the river crossing. They surrendered after a desultory skirmish, and Marcus had another half company of prisoners to add to the hundred or so that were already in his bag. The enemy had lost twice that many killed and wounded, he judged, and he doubted if his own losses numbered a dozen.\n\n\"They're not so tough,\" Adrecht said, reflecting the general mood in the camp. Night had fallen, and campfires were sprouting throughout the village and outside the tents beyond the hill. \"If they keep this up, we won't have to trouble the colonel after all.\"\n\n\"If they keep this up, they're not as clever as we've given them credit for,\" Marcus said. They were still at his vantage point at the front of the temple, from which he could seethe whole triangular village, the ford, and a good bit of the country beyond. \"They tried to brush past us and got their hand slapped. I doubt they'll try it again.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What else can they do, though?\" Adrecht said. \"The ford's not wide enough to send two battalions at once, and if they come one by one they'll just get chewed up the same way.\"\n\nMarcus shook his head. He was watching more campfires spring to life, like ground stars, on the opposite bank of the river. There were an awful lot of them.\n\n\"We'll find out,\" he said.\n\n---\n\nThey found out the next morning.\n\nThe Auxiliary gunners didn't even wait for dawn. As soon as enough gray light had filtered into the sky to outline their targets, the north bank of the river blazed into horrible life, muzzle flashes cutting through the semidarkness. They were followed a moment later by the low, flat booms of the reports echoing across the water, and the drone and crash of incoming roundshot.\n\nThe ford was a particularly wide spot in the river, which meant the range had to beat least six or seven hundred yards. Too far to pick out individual men, even if the guns had been capable of such accuracy. The enemy gunners didn't even try. Instead, they went to work on the houses closest to the riverbank, bowling their cannonballs in long arcs that descended screaming into the Colonials\" carefully prepared positions. The first few shots were off, either flying wide into the town or splashing in the shallows, but the Khandarai gunners quickly found the range. The clay walls of the village shacks provided no protection at all-worse than nothing, in fact, since the clay had a tendency to splinter and fill the interior of a hut with razor-sharp shards when a cannonball punched through.\n\nWithin half an hour, all the houses along the waterfront were piles of broken rubble, and fires had started in a dozen places. That didn't concern Marcus overmuch-there wasn't enough wind to drive areal blaze-but he watched the eastern horizon impatiently. The sun seemed to rise with interminable slowness, the world gradually lightening until it was possible to seethe enemy positions. Rising clouds of powder smoke marked each gun. There were four of them directly opposite the ford, arrayed in a neat line right out of the artillery textbook." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Right,\" he said to his artillerists, who had been standing by with similar impatience. \"Go to it.\"\n\nThe Colonial guns took up the challenge with a roar. During the night Marcus had split them into three divisions, spread out along the riverbank; one directly opposite the ford, for canister work if the Auxiliaries tried a rush, while the other two provided enfilading fire from farther up the bank. Now all six twelve-pounders went to work, probing through the smoke for the enemy cannon.\n\nIt was a little like watching a handball match, Marcus reflected. The assembled soldiers of either side had nothing to do but watch and cheer for their own team, as the gunners sweated and struggled with balls, powder bags, and rammers. There was a cheer, audible even on the temple hill, whenever one of their own guns placed a shot near enough to fountain dirt and smoke over the enemy gunners.\n\nMarcus had ordered that the caissons-the big carts that the guns hitched to when marching, which carried the ammunition reserves-be kept well back from the actual firing sites. This meant an inconveniently long haul whenever stores of powder and shot ran low, but he organized details from the infantry to run the supplies up to the front in relays. The men went to it with a will. He suspected that doing anything to contribute, however little, felt better than crouching behind broken walls and flinching at the sound of every cannonball.\n\nUnder the fire of the Colonials, the Auxiliaries' guns adjusted their aim and tried to reply, but it was an unequal contest. Not only did the Colonials have more pieces, but they were dug in behind barricades of dirt and rubble that shielded the gunners from any but direct hits, while the Auxiliaries were out in the open. The smoke made it impossible to see what effect the duel was having, but it seemed to Marcus that the replies from the enemy pieces were starting to slacken." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That the enemy had not matched his precaution with their caissons became obvious when a fountain of fire blossomed through the fog bank on the opposite shore, lifting and spreading like a great orange flower. A moment later an enormous boom, like a single monstrous footstep, drowned out even the sound of the cannon. When the flames faded away, leaving behind a huge mushroom-shaped cloud, the Auxiliaries' guns had stopped firing. The Colonials kept shooting fora few more minutes, then came to a ragged halt. Cheers rose from the waterfront and around the temple.\n\nLieutenant Archer, the Preacher's second-in-command, arrived at Marcus\" impromptu headquarters along with the first of the wounded. With the bombardment halted, details were finally able to get through to the waterfront and start pulling away the rubble. Team after team hurried by with stretchers or improvised travois made from doors, boards, or whatever else was at hand. Other teams, moving more slowly, carried the dead.\n\nArcher himself was unharmed, though the powder blackening his face showed that the young lieutenant had been intimately involved in the artillery duel. He saluted smartly.\n\n\"Any losses?\" Marcus said. His eyes were still fixed on the other bank, where the smoke was gradually drifting away.\n\n\"Two men,\" Archer said. \"One dead, God rest him. The other may live, but he'll lose the arm. One gun's limber damaged. Otherwise, nothing serious. By the grace of the Lord,\" he added piously. Archer was the Preacher's right-hand man, and shared his spiritual zeal.\n\n\"Good,\" Marcus said. \"If that's the best they've got, they're not crossing anytime soon.\"\n\n\"Beg pardon, sir, but that can't be the best they've got. Those were Gesthemel eight-pounders. They've got to be older than I am.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"That's what the Auxies have to work with." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "For the most part we gave them Royal Army castoffs.\" Marcus hesitated. \"I'm surprised you got such a good look at them.\"\n\n\"I didn't, sir. But you can tell by the report, if you know what you're listening for.\"\n\n\"I'll take your word for it,\" Marcus said dryly.\n\n\"Yessir. But if they were planning on defending the crossing at Westbridge, they must have had more than a few light guns to do it with. My guess is they're still bringing up the heavier pieces.\"\n\n\"Someone over there is in a hell of a hurry,\" Marcus said. He hoped that was a good thing. If they wanted to cross so badly, stopping them should be worth something, shouldn't it? He grimaced as another stretcher team went past. \"If you can't keep them suppressed, we're going to have an awful time on the riverbank.\"\n\n\"Yessir,\" Archer said. \"We'll do our best, sir.\"\n\n---\n\nThere was a lull of a few hours, for which Marcus was duly grateful. It gave him the chance to evacuate the dead and wounded from the wrecked waterfront, and the men took the opportunity to dig in as best they could among the piles of rubble. This was what he'd brought the Old Colonials for. Fighting behind barricades and building field fortifications were not part of the skill set of the average Vordanai soldier, since on the continent wars were simply not fought that way. It was considered impolite to blast an enemy town with siege guns, for example. The Old Colonials, however, had spent years in Khandar-where the bandits and Desoltai raiders thought nothing of commandeering local dwellings as blockhouses-and thus had seen their share of desperate house-to-house fighting. The script was familiar to them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This is the first time we've been on the receiving end, though. Normally it was the locals holed up in some little speck of a village and the Colonials rousting them outwith cannon and bayonet.\n\nHe had Corporal Montagne, who reputedly had the sharpest eyes in the regiment, perched on the roof of the temple looking south. Four days, Janus had said, and this was the fourth day. Every time someone shouted, Marcus' heart leapt in the hope that long blue-uniformed columns had been sighted wending their way north.\n\nNo such luck. A runner hurried out of the temple, skidded to a halt, and saluted hastily.\n\n\"Sir! Enemy movement, sir! Looks like heavy guns, sir!\"\n\nHere it comes. He stared north, across the river, where the brown uniforms were boiling into view like angry ants. It was only a few minutes before he caught the first flash of fire, followed by its distant thudding boom. He watched to see where the shot would land, and was startled to hear it pass overhead with a shriek like an angry cat as it cleared the roof of the temple to land beyond the village entirely.\n\n\"Saints and martyrs,\" Marcus swore. \"What the hell was that?\" He gestured impatiently at the runner. \"Go find Lieutenant Archer and ask him what the hell is going on.\"\n\nBy the time the man returned, though, Marcus had figured it out for himself. Three more of the monstrous guns had opened fire, two overshooting the town and one shot landing well back from the waterfront, plowing through a whole row of houses before it finally came to rest. The runner's breathless report confirmed his suspicions.\n\n\"Siege guns, sir,\" the man said, still winded from running the length of the village twice. \"Big ones, twenty-four pounders at least.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Thirty-six,\" Marcus said. \"Those are thirty-six-pound naval guns.\"\n\n\"Are they?\" The runner turned to look at the distant clouds of gunsmoke, impressed. \"Well spotted, sir!\"\n\nMarcus'lip twisted in a brief smile. \"I'm afraid my eyes aren't as good as that. But I used to walk past them at least once a week. The prince had them lined up along the wharf in Ashe-Katarion, remember?\"\n\nThey'd been a gift from the King of Vordan to his royal friend and cousin. The prince had been very impressed with them, Marcus recalled. He'd been there the day the Colonials manhandled them off the boat, grunting and swearing, twenty men to each gun. If the little Gesthemels were older than Lieutenant Archer, those guns were older than any man in Khandar, relics of an earlier era. No one had told the prince that the enormous weapons he was so proud of were museum pieces, of course.\n\nThe runner gaped. \"Those guns, sir? I always thought they were just for decoration!\"\n\n\"Apparently General Khtoba has found a use for them.\" Marcus spared a brief moment of thanks for the foresight Janus had shown in avoiding Westbridge. The thought of trying to charge across abridge into the face of those monstrous pieces made him shiver. \"Does Archer think he can silence them?\"\n\n\"He said he'll try, sir, but they're well back from the river's edge. Long range, sir.\"\n\n\"Tell him to try. And get the ammunition relay running again.\" Another shot from one of the monsters landed, closer to the waterfront. The huge projectile tore through the town as if through tissue paper, leaving a neat line of rising dust in its wake. The ranker swallowed hard, saluted again, and ran off." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Archer's guns opened fire a few minutes later. As the lieutenant had predicted, his replies were less effective than before due to the longer range, but the man's skill was evident. It was only a few shots before his pieces were regularly bowling their roundshot into the growing clouds of smoke that surrounded the big naval guns. One mercy was that the ancient pieces would be difficult and time-consuming to aim. If they got into a duel with Archer, it would take ages for them to zero in.\n\nIn the event, they didn't even try. The naval guns kept slamming away at the waterfront, blasting through the barriers of wood and clay as though they were made of matchsticks. Instead, a descending scream announced another set of unwelcome arrivals. Marcus watched the first shot fall short, churning up a stretch of riverbank. Howitzers.\n\nThe king had given those to the prince, too. Marcus wished his sovereign had been a little less generous over the years, even if he was only cleaning obsolete pieces out of his armories. These were midgets compared to the naval guns, stubby weapons that looked vaguely like a washing tub on wheels. They fired shells instead of shot, iron spheres packed with powder and an impact fuse. Like the huge naval guns, they were weapons of a previous age, when wars had been less polite and sieges were common. Unlike the huge thirty-six-pounders, which had been built to defend harbors from enemy ships, the howitzers had been designed for the express purpose of bombarding dug-in enemies and fortifications.\n\nArcher kept trying. It took sometime for the howitzers to find the range-they weren't terribly accurate weapons at the best of times, firing as they did in high arcs rather than the shallow trajectories of ordinary cannon. Once they started landing shots close by, however, they made a mockery of all of the gunners\" careful preparation. The shells descended from on high, not straight ahead, and they were as likely to land behind the sheltering walls of rubble as in front of them. When they hit, they blew apart into iron fragments as deadly as any musket ball." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The artillerymen kept up the now patently unequal contest fora few minutes, gamely banging away into the cloud of gunsmoke while the shells rained down around them." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It wasn't long before they gave it up, however, and one by one the Colonial guns fell silent, leaving only the distant, shuddering booms from across the river.\n\nArcher himself turned up not long after, bleeding from along cut on one shoulder and even more smoke-blackened than before. He saluted, gingerly, and shook his head.\n\n\"Sorry, sir. I told my boys to pullout. We've had a dozen men hit already, and one of the new guns is down with a cracked axle-\"\n\nMarcus waved him into silence. Once it became clear that the Vordanai guns were no longer replying, the howitzers had turned their attention to the waterfront. Fires were once again burning through the sad little town, and each exploding shell was accompanied by a fountain of debris and burning thatch. Marcus glanced at the sky. The sun had not even reached the meridian, and the southern horizon remained empty.\n\n\"Archer,\" he said, \"get your guns back to the temple and start digging in. Get that shoulder seen to while you're at it.\"\n\n\"Yessir. But-\"\n\nMarcus was already turning away. \"Runner!\"\n\n\"Here, sir!\" said a nearby ranker, a keen-looking young man with a crisp salute.\n\n\"Get down to Lieutenant Goldsworth.\" That was Val's second-in-command, now in charge of the forces along the waterfront. \"Tell him he's to grin and bear it until they reach musket range, then give them a volley and fallback. I'll be waiting for him with the First, and we'll drive them back into the river. Got all that? Go.\" He gestured another man forward. \"You, find Captain Roston. Last I saw he was upon the roof here. Tell him he's got the reserve until I get back.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "On the other side of the river, the great mass of brown-and-tan infantry was stirring. Neat columns filed between the still-booming naval guns, re-formed, and headed for the ford.\n\n---\n\nThe village wasn't large enough for Marcus\" entire command to defend at once. He'd left the Second Battalion-the three companies of it that he had, at any rate-to hold the waterfront, and held the other three units in reserve around the rear of the temple, where they'd be reasonably sheltered from enemy artillery. Of these, his own First Battalion was the largest, more than four hundred men in four companies.\n\nHe found the four company commanders waiting for him in a sort of huddle. The sight of them made him wish for Fitz. These were all Old Colonials, which meant they were the dregs of the Royal Army officer corps. Lieutenant Vence was a former cavalryman who'd fallen off his horse and onto his head, which left him with a fragile constitution and recurring bouts of fever. Davis was a fat bully and a blowhard who was rumored to have been sent to Khandar for his part in the fatal beating of a ranker. Lieutenant Thorpe was a man after Adrecht's mold, all lace shirts and fancy living, but with none of the captain's redeeming qualities. And Strache might have been the oldest lieutenant in the service, at close to fifty. His crime, as far as Marcus had been able to make out, had been refusing to retire when he was supposed to.\n\nNone of them were the men he would have chosen, but they were what he had to work with. They sprang to attention as he approached. Two of them did, anyway, while Lieutenant Strache moved slowly to spare his back and Davis took his time heaving his bulk into line." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"We're going in,\" Marcus told them." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Up the hill to the front of the temple. I'll meet you there.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir!\" they chorused, and hurried off as best they were able. Marcus spared another glance for the south, but there was still no sign of approaching relief. He looked up at the looming bulk of the temple and caught Adrecht's face peering over the side. Marcus gave the other captain a cheeky wave and trotted backup the hill to meet his men.\n\nBy the time the First was in position, the Auxiliaries were nearly over the ford. As Marcus had hoped, their artillery had tailed off. Neither the naval guns nor the howitzers were accurate enough to fire in close support of the infantry without serious risk of friendly casualties. Thatch fires were still burning throughout the town, filling the streets with sweet black smoke that mixed with the acrid gray stuff from the guns and bursting shells. The damage was worst close to the waterfront, where scarcely a building was left standing. Marcus could see a few blue-uniformed bodies lying in the rubble, and other soldiers still working on the improvised barricades.\n\nHe turned to his men. They made fora motley picture, uniformed in a catch-as-catch-can mess of army issue and Khandarai fabrics that were only Royal Army blue in broad average. He saw a lot of worried faces, too, which made him uneasy. For all that they'd been through the bloody business before, the Old Colonials had never specialized infighting opponents on anything like equal terms.\n\n\"I've told Goldsworth and the Second to fallback,\" he told them, \"as soon as the Auxies get close. They'll have to breakup to come forward, and that's when we'll hit them. Fix bayonets and keep moving, and we'll push the bastards right back into the river. And stay close to them, or else you'll end up wearing a howitzer shell fora hat. Ready?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They gave a shout. It was less than enthusiastic, but better than nothing. Marcus turned back to the battle. The front ranks of the incoming Auxiliary battalion had reached the nearshore, neat lines turned ragged by the challenge of marching through thigh-high water. As they formed up, shots started to issue from the twisted mass of wreckage that was all that remained of the waterfront houses, proving that not all of the Second had been flattened by the howitzers. The bombardment had stopped, and in the relative silence each shot sounded like a distant handclap, accompanied by a puff of smoke. The Auxiliaries ignored the harassing fire, taking a few moments to organize undercover of the embankment and then pushing forward over the top. Marcus could see blue-uniformed figures running in front of them, hunched low and moving from cover to cover.\n\n\"Follow me!\" He waved down the hill and set off at a trot.\n\nIt was not the best-formed advance in the history of military tactics. A body of thirty or forty men came down the road behind Marcus, maintaining a loose order to avoid the broken bits of clay and timber the bombardment had torn loose from the houses. The rest of the rankers had to pick their way around the various obstacles in the town itself as best they could. But the Khandarai were in a similar state-pursuing the retreating men of the Second Battalion, they'd gotten spread out and lost any semblance of formation.\n\nThe first brown-uniformed soldier that the advancing First encountered gave a squawk of surprise, fired wildly to no effect, and took to his heels. The next pair, surprised coming around a corner, were the recipients of a dozen musket blasts and dropped in their tracks. Marcus waved the men onward, letting them getup to a run, and they drove the Redeemers back in front of them. Here and there, a few Auxiliaries in a good position put up a determined resistance, but without organization it was easy for the Vordanai to get around behind them and flush them outwith muskets or the bayonet." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Marcus kept an eye out for Lieutenant Goldsworth, but never caught sight of him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There were men of the Second all around, though, and some of them decided there was more safety to be had with Marcus than following their own commander. The blue-uniformed mob grew as it advanced, pushing the Auxiliaries into headlong flight, until the Colonials regained their initial position at the top of the embankment.\n\nThe rearguard of the enemy battalion was still forming there, two or three companies in good order. The next battalion had just begun its crossing. If we're going to break them, here's our chance. He threw himself over the last obstacle, a makeshift wall built by the Second, and waved the men behind him forward. Barely twenty yards ahead, the neat line of brown and tan erupted into flames.\n\nBeing part of an attack was a strange thing, Marcus had always thought. It was like being a component in a larger organism, something that could live or die, stand or flee, all on its own and independent of the will of the men who made it up. Sometimes it drove you onward, into the face of what seemed like certain death, in spite of every instinct screaming for flight. Other times, you could feel it falling apart, turning at bay like a whipped dog, hunkering down or turning tail to run.\n\nIt was apparent almost immediately that this was going to be one of the latter occasions. The Vordanai broke from cover in dribs and drabs, as fast as each man's legs could carry him, with no more order than a rioting mob. The first volley from the Auxiliaries slammed out as they crested the embankment, and men fell backward or tumbled into the ditch. The second round of fire, still aiming high, went over the heads of those who'd made it down the slope and cut down the ones who followed. Scattered fire from the Colonials opened temporary gaps in the brown-coated line, but they closed up neatly, two ranks loading while the third waited with leveled weapons. Bayonets gleamed like a steel-tipped picket fence." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Almost as one man, the advancing Colonials decided they would rather not beat the bottom of the slope when the next volley thundered after them." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Those still coming down the hill flopped into the best cover they could find and opened fire, while those who'd cleared the embankment scrambled backup it, vaulting over the bodies of the dead and wounded in their haste to regain some kind of protection.\n\nMarcus couldn't recall the exact moment at which he, personally, had turned around. It hadn't been a conscious decision, anymore than any particular cow makes a decision to run when a herd stampedes. The overriding imperative to stay with the group reached down into the base of the brain and flipped all the switches, without consulting any of the higher functions. In his next rational moment, he was huddled behind the wall the Second had built, struggling to load his musket in spite of the protruding spike of the bayonet.\n\nThe semicircle of fire and smoke concentrating on the Auxiliaries was getting thicker by the minute, as more men of the First and some of the Second worked their way into range and found positions. The Auxiliaries fired another volley, but with no obvious targets the effect was only to patter musket balls off the barricade like hard rain. Then, at either an officer's urging or an individual soldier's good sense, they broke ranks as well and ran for the cover of the embankment, which provided a natural breastwork. Before long the rattle of musketry had risen to a continuous roar.\n\n\"Davis!\" Marcus spotted the fat sergeant and gestured him over. \"Hold here, you understand? I'm going to find Adrecht and see about getting us some support!\"\n\nDavis nodded, looking distinctly pale. Marcus left his musket, got to his feet, and hurried backup the hill, bent double to avoid presenting a neat target to the Khandarai below. Once he'd gone fifty yards, he risked a look back. The second Khandarai battalion was crossing the river now, a thousand fresh troops to oppose the four or five hundred he'd left behind. He broke into a run." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Proceed with the plot as the storytelling partner.\nTags: fantasy, flintlock fantasy, military\nAuthor: Django Wexler\nTitle: The Thousand Names\nChapter: 33" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You don't know.\"\n\n\"I don't. I'm sorry.\"\n\n\"Did you study my history before you came here?\" Marcus said.\n\nJanus nodded. \"Of course.\"\n\n\"Then you know what happened tome. To my family.\"\n\nThe colonel ducked his head. \"A tragedy.\"\n\n\"They all died. That's what they told me, afterward. I wasn't there, you see. I was still at the College. By the time I got home they'd gone ahead with the funerals. Visiting the cemetery was all I could do. There wouldn't have been anything left to see, anyway. The whole house burned.\"\n\nJanus nodded.\n\n\"All dead,\" Marcus said. \"But Jen... when we were in the temple, she said...\"\n\n\"Are you certain?\"\n\nThere was along silence.\n\n\"I don't want to holdout false hope for you, Captain,\" Janus said. \"Orlanko and his creatures are masters of deceit. There may have been no more truth in it than in her affection for you.\"\n\n\"I know. But-\"\n\n\"You want to know for certain.\"\n\nMarcus said nothing.\n\n\"If the truth exists anywhere,\" Janus said, \"it's buried under Orlanko's lair in the Cobweb.\"\n\n\"I'll digit out,\" Marcus said. The anger in his voice surprised him. \"With my bare hands, if I have to.\"\n\n\"Come with me,\" Janus said. \"I swear I'll help you, if I can.\"\n\nAfter along moment, Marcus nodded.\n\nWINTER\n\nWinter pushed the tent flaps open cautiously, and blinked in the full glare of the morning sun. Scrubby grass underneath her feet meant they were no longer deep in the Desol. Ahead, the land fell away in a spectacular cliff. Beyond that, stretching to the horizon, was the sea. The water was deep blue against the cloudless Khandarai sky, and she could see tiny white-tipped waves far below. The air smelled different-salty, and somehow alive compared to the baked, dead atmosphere of the Desol. Even the heat was moderated by a cool breeze blowing off the water." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She'd awoken to crisp linen sheets and a surprisingly small amount of pain. Some of her wounds were bandaged, while others had been closed with fine silk stitches that were already sinking under the surface of newly healed skin. Her side still hurt when she touched it, but not nearly so badly as it had. When she lifted the sheet to examine her skin, she saw that the mass of bruises had turned a startling yellow-green.\n\nWaiting at the foot of her bed washer uniform, freshly laundered, the various cuts and abrasions expertly stitched and patched. Beside it was a brand-new coat, with a lieutenant's stripes properly sewn into the shoulders.\n\nOutside, a white fabric awning threw its shadow across a wooden table and a couple of chairs set with pillows. One of them was occupied by Colonel Vhalnich, who was reading a book with his legs stretched out on a cushioned footrest. He looked up at the rustle of the tent flap, then shut the book and flashed her a brief smile.\n\nWinter saluted, heels coming together to straighten her painfully into a parade-ground stance. The colonel winced in sympathy, and gestured to the chair.\n\n\"Please, Lieutenant. Sit down and relax.\"\n\nShe unbent cautiously and settled into the chair. His gray eyes regarded her thoughtfully.\n\n\"I would getup to greet you, but...\" He waved a hand at his legs, and she noticed that one of them was bound by a wooden splint. \"I've been waiting most anxiously for you to awaken.\"\n\n\"I-\"\n\nHe held up one finger. \"To anticipate your initial questions: We are on the coast, four miles east of Ashe-Katarion. Your corporals and those of the Seventh Company who escaped the caves with them are fine, and have been asking quite urgently after your health. And you have been unconscious for approximately twelve days.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Winter blinked, trying to make room for all that. \"Twelve... days?\"\n\n\"Indeed. Our return from the Desol was dusty but uneventful. The same could not be said for your injuries, I'm afraid. Fora time you were in serious danger.\"\n\nWinter remembered feeling as though her lungs were ripping themselves to shreds with every breath. It seemed distant, like something from a past life. \"Do I have you to thank for my recovery?\"\n\n\"You do,\" he said matter-of-factly. \"While I hate to cast aspersions on the humble army cutters, their knowledge tends toward the practical, and their approach is often... blunt. If the problem cannot be removed from the patient with a bone saw, they are often at a loss. Fortunately, medicine is among my fields of study.\"\n\n\"Then you saved my life. Again.\"\n\nHe inclined his head. \"After you saved mine.\" The colonel held up his hand again, ticking off more fingers. \"To be more precise, you came to save mine, I saved yours, you returned to rescue me once again, and I again managed to be of some service afterward.\" He raised an eyebrow. \"It seemed only polite.\"\n\n\"What about the others who were in there?\" Winter drew a sharp breath. \"Feor! What happened to Feor?\"\n\n\"She would be the Khandarai priestess who accompanied you?\" At Winter's hesitant nod, Janus gave another fast smile. \"She is fully recovered, I believe. Your Corporal Forester claimed her when he led the rescue party into the temple. I was in no condition to give advice at the time, but fortunately it proved to be unnecessary. The wounds magic inflicts on the spirit are painful, and can even be fatal, but they fade quickly compared to the more physical sort.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "She's all right." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Something unknotted in the pit of Winter's stomach. She'd been convinced that Feor was dying, that the reading of the naath had been an effort of grand self-sacrifice on her part. Hell, maybe she thought it was.\n\n\"I haven't been able to let any of them come and see you,\" the colonel continued, \"as I didn't know which of them were privy to your secret.\"\n\n\"Ah. That was very considerate of you.\"\n\n\"As I said, it seemed only polite.\"\n\nThere was a pause. The clink of glass on glass made Winter lookup, and she was startled to see a servant informal black pouring wine from a carafe. He handed her the glass with a grave expression, and she sipped politely. It was iced, and the chill felt good against her lips.\n\n\"Thank you, Augustin. Leave the rest.\"\n\n\"My lord,\" Augustin murmured. He ghosted away.\n\n\"That leaves us,\" the colonel said, reaching for his own glass, \"with the main issue.\"\n\n\"Oh?\" Winter did her best to match the man's casual tone.\n\n\"How much do you understand of what happened in the temple?\"\n\nWinter's cheeks flushed. She drank, to cover her embarrassment, and found the wine surprisingly palatable. \"Not much. Alhundt was trying to kill us all, and Captain d'Ivoire and I stopped her.\"\n\nHe glanced at her, his expression unreadable. \"I'm not surprised that you'd pretend ignorance. To be knowledgeable is to be involved, after all, and you must know better than anyone how dangerous that can be. However, I believe we are beyond that point. Whatever you know, or don't know, you are involved now, and so I ask not in some attempt to entrap you into revealing your hand but simply so that I do not waste your time with explanations.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"If you say so,\" Winter said carefully.\n\n\"Trust me.\" He leaned forward. \"How much do you know about what has happened to you?\"\n\nShe shrugged. \"Only what Feor told me. She recited a naath, something that was engraved on those steel plates, and I said it along with her. Then I finished it alone.\"\n\nThe colonel winced. \"No wonder she was unconscious. Did she tell you anything about the nature of the... naath?\"\n\n\"No. Only that I could use it to stop Alhundt.\"\n\n\"And when you did?\"\n\n\"It was...\" She found it hard to put into words. \"It was like whatever was inside me reached out, into her. It found the magic inside her and-I'm not sure. It-\"\n\n\"Devoured it,\" the colonel said.\n\n\"I suppose so.\"\n\n\"Remarkable.\" He looked at her curiously. \"And how do you feel now?\"\n\n\"All right, I guess.\" She looked down at herself. \"A hell of a lot better than I expected to.\"\n\n\"An expectation I might have shared, had I known what you and Feor had tried.\" He paused, as though searching for words. \"The... thing that you have, call it a naath for the sake of argument, is one that is known to us, though only distantly. It was discovered in the wild only once, more than a thousand years ago. The Church of the time called it \"Infernivore,\" because to them it was a demon that fed on other demons. It resisted every attempt to learn its name, and eventually its host died under the not-very-tender ministrations of the Priests of the Black. In time, however, rumors reached the Church that either the Infernivore or a very similar entity had been discovered in Khandar, among the great store of knowledge we call the Thousand Names.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "There was so much that Winter didn't understand in that statement she hardly knew whereto begin." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She seized on something familiar. \"Feor mentioned the Black Priests. I thought they were shutdown a century ago.\"\n\n\"Officially, yes,\" Janus said. \"As far as history is concerned, the Priests of the Black expanded their remit from the elimination of the supernatural to meddle in the realm of politics and doctrine, which is true, as far as it goes. In the aftermath of the Great Schism, the Pontifex of the Black lost much of his standing, and the Obsidian Order was eventually disbanded.\"\n\n\"But?\" Winter prompted.\n\n\"Elysium took the opportunity to purge the rot and return the Priests of the Black to what they had been. They operate in secret, searching out demons and magic in all its forms. Just because they are no longer publicly acknowledged does not make them any less dangerous, however.\"\n\n\"I thought Alhundt worked for the Concordat.\"\n\n\"The interests of His Grace the Last Duke,\" the colonel said darkly, \"align very closely with those of the Pontifex of the Black. It doesn't surprise me in the least to find them working hand in glove.\"\n\n\"But-\"\n\n\"All of this is a bit beside the point,\" the colonel said. \"At least for the moment, as far as you are concerned.\"\n\n\"So what is the point?\"\n\n\"I also knew the Infernivore was here. I came to Khandar to get it, along with the rest of the Thousand Names.\"\n\n\"You did?\"\n\n\"Of course. I've made a study of magic, you know.\"\n\nHe said it so blandly that Winter nearly choked on her wine. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then said, \"So now you've got what you wanted?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Ina way. Except that you and Feor have taken the greatest prize of the lot.\"\n\nThat made her sit up straight. Winter coughed, then met his level gaze.\n\n\"Can't you just... recite it yourself? You have the plates, I assume.\"\n\n\"Not without killing you first. Once a Name is spoken, it's bound to the one who speaks it. Another attempt would be pointless.\"\n\n\"So...\" Winter's eyes flicked down to the wine, then back to the colonel. \"Are you planning to kill me?\"\n\nTo her surprise, he laughed out loud. \"You have a truly dour view of authority, Lieutenant. I suppose it suits you.\"\n\n\"It seemed like where you were headed,\" Winter said. \"Kill me, and take this Infernivore for yourself.\"\n\n\"For one thing, reciting the name of the Infernivore is extremely risky. I was planning to undertake it only if there was no alternative. Given the power of the thing, I estimated the chances of survival at no better than one in seven. That you were able to do it with no training at all is frankly astonishing. Given that such a risk has been run, it seems a shame to waste the results.\"\n\n\"Oh.\" Winter's mouth was suddenly dry. She fumbled with her wineglass.\n\n\"Besides, I have taken a liking to you. You are bold and innovative in the field, dedicated to your subordinates, and loyal to those who earn your trust. You also seem to have a habit of saving my life, which is certainly something I would like to encourage. To be frank, Lieutenant, I want to offer you a position.\"\n\n\"A position? On your staff, you mean?\"\n\n\"Something to that effect, yes. The specifics can be worked out later. I'll be returning to Vordan in a few days, and once I get there I think there will be a great deal of work to be done. I was hoping you could be of some assistance.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I'm flattered,\" Winter muttered." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Do I really have a choice?\"\n\n\"Of course you do. We will be engaged in some extremely delicate maneuvers when we return home, and I don't want anyone by my side whose support is less than wholehearted. If you don't wish to involve yourself, then I will not make an issue of it.\" His smile came and went within a heartbeat. \"I can't promise that the Last Duke and the Church will do the same, of course.\"\n\n\"Of course,\" Winter said. So there was no real choice after all. Except...\"What's in it for me?\"\n\n\"Anything reasonable that's within my power to grant,\" the colonel said immediately. \"What is it you want, Lieutenant Ihernglass?\"\n\nWinter closed her eyes. She saw a face, as she always did-red hair, green eyes, a bold, sly smile.\n\n\"There's someone I want you to find,\" she said. Her voice rang distantly in her own ears. \"An old friend.\"\n\n\"I can't promise success,\" he said. \"But we can certainly make the attempt.\"\n\n\"And my corporals. I want them to come with us.\"\n\n\"Certainly. In fact, I suspect the entire regiment may follow, given the recent news.\"\n\n\"And Feor. There's nothing left for her here.\"\n\n\"As you wish.\" The colonel cocked his head. \"Is there anything else?\"\n\n\"I'll let you know if I think of anything.\"\n\nHe smiled again. \"Of course.\"\n\nWinter hesitated. \"What did you mean, \"the recent news\"?\"\n\nThe colonel raised his eyebrows. \"Oh my. I'd forgotten you hadn't heard. There was a courier from Vordan while we were gone.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Has something happened?\"\n\nJanus steepled his fingers. \"The king is dying.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Seal of the Grand Justice of Ashe-Katarion was a heavy, unwieldy thing, all carved marble and gold leaf. It spent most of its time in a steel lockbox at the back of Jaffa's office, and he sealed his day-to-day correspondence with an ordinary wooden stamp. Tradition dictated that the official seal be used on a few occasions, however, and one of those was to adorn the Grand Justice's letter of resignation. Jaffa let the gray wax drip onto the paper, waited a few moments, then awkwardly pressed the massive seal home. It left the rearing-scorpion symbol of the prince, with a decorative border of eyes that marked the Justices.\n\nAnd that was the end. The job to which he'd dedicated his adult life was over. Jaffa-dan-Iln sat back in his padded chair, with the loose, squeaky armrest he'd never gotten around to fixing, and let out along sigh.\n\nThe gatehouse bustled around him with unparalleled activity. The prince's agents had been busy, hiring new men and promoting those who'd remained loyal during the Redemption. Those who had switched sides were being eased out. Not too ostentatiously, of course. The Vordanai commander had expressed his confidence in the Justices, and Jaffa probably had that to thank for the fact that he hadn't been marched to a public execution as soon as the prince felt secure. But the last missive from the Palace had left no doubt as to what was expected of him.\n\nFor Jaffa, it hardly mattered. Mother was gone, vanished into the Great Desol, and with her the cause of Heaven that he had come to so late and so fervently. His newfound certainty had vanished with her.\n\nThere will be a sign. There must be a sign." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He had decided that he would try to find her. Pointless, of course, given the extent of the Desol, but at least it was a direction. He would take as much food and water as a good horse could carry, and set out into the desert. Either the Heavens would guide him, or he would leave one more set of dusty bones under the dunes.\n\nWhen he pushed his chair back from the desk and stood, sand crunched under his boots. He frowned, tossed the sealed letter on his desk, and crossed the room. His official sword belt and truncheon hung from a peg behind the door, and his fingers brushed the leather before he realized he wouldn't need them. They belonged to the prince, after all.\n\nSomething whispered through the little office. It was in the depths of the gatehouse, far from any openings to the outdoors, but it nonetheless seemed to Jaffa that he felt a faint breath of air. The great logbook of the Justices, lying open on aside table, fluttered its pages slowly, like a lazy bird. Jaffa took a breath and tasted the hot, arid wind of the desert.\n\nThere was sand everywhere. Not just on the floor, where someone might have carelessly tracked it, but on his desk and on the bookcases. It was moving, grain by grain, tiny flecks tumbling over and over as though caught in the wind. A patch of gray and brown collected in the center of the room, rose into a little pyramid, and started to grow.\n\nJaffa fell to his knees and lowered his head. The pile of sand grew larger, accompanied by the keening of the desert wind. As it widened, it took on shape, forming first a rough-hewn mannequin and then a recognizable human form. It was a young woman, naked and beautiful, with skin that turned smooth but remained the mottled colors of the desert. Her eyes were two chips of obsidian, black and so glossy the candles around the room glowed in their depths like distant stars." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Jaffa,\" she said. Her voice was a dusty creak, a hiss from the depths of the Desol.\n\n\"Mother,\" Jaffa said, and bowed lower, until his forehead touched the floor.\n\n\"They have all failed me,\" Mother said. \"All but you.\"\n\n\"I will never fail you.\"\n\n\"I know. Rise, Jaffa.\"\n\nHe got to his feet. She strode closer, mottled patterns shifting under her skin. He wondered what would happen if he touched her-if her skin would be as smooth as glass, or if his hand would pass through her like an oar through water. Her full lips twitched in what might have been a smile.\n\n\"I have a gift for you,\" she said in her ancient voice. She pressed one hand to her stomach, the flowing sand of her fingers melting into her belly as though she were rummaging in her own innards. She withdrew an object, skittering grains rippling around it like water. Its surface glistened as if it had been oiled.\n\nJaffa took it from her outstretched hand. It was a blank mask of raw steel with two rectangular holes for eyes. Jaffa hefted it in his hand, feeling the weight of it.\n\n\"What would you have me do?\"\n\nA ripple passed across Mother's face, like the crest of a dune shifting in the breeze.\n\n\"First,\" she said, \"you must find us a ship.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Collaborate on the narrative and advance it.\nTags: fantasy, dark fantasy, chase\nAuthor: Andrzej Sapkowski\nTitle: The Tower of Swallows\nChapter: 4" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I see you found our message in the ruins of the old station?\" Giselher said, stretching. \"Ha, what am I saying, you wouldn't be here otherwise, would you? You rode here pretty quickly, I must say. '\n\n\"Because the mare is gorgeous,\" Falka interjected. \"I'll bet she's fleet too!\"\n\n\"I found your message.\" Hotspurn did not take his eye off Giselher. \"What about mine? Did it reach you?\"\n\n\"It did...\" stammered the leader of the Rats. \"But... Well, to put it briefly... There wasn't time. And then we got drunk and were forced to rest a little. And later another path came up... '\n\nDamned pups, thought Hotspurn.\n\n\"To put it briefly, you didn't do the job? '\n\n\"Well, no. Forgive me, Hotspurn. Couldn't be done... But next time, ho! Without fail! '\n\n\"Without fail!\" repeated Kayleigh with emphasis, though no one had asked him to repeat it.\n\nDamned, irresponsible pups. Got drunk. And then another path came up... To a tailor to get some fancy costumes, I'll be bound.\n\n\"Want a drink?\"\n\n\"No, thank you.\"\n\n\"Fancy some of this?\" Giselher pointed at a small decorative lacquer casket among some demijohns and beakers. Now Hotspurn knew why a strange light was flashing in the Rats' eyes, why their movements were so nervous and quick.\n\n\"First-rate powder,\" Giselher assured him. \"Won't you take a pinch? '\n\n\"No, thank you.\" Hotspurn glanced knowingly at a red stain and a dwindling bloody streak on the sawdust of the chamber, clearly indicating which way a body had been dragged. Giselher noticed the look." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"One of the lackeys thought he'd play the hero, \"he snorted.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "So Iskra had to scold him. '\n\nIskra laughed throatily. She clearly very aroused by the narcotic.\n\n\"I scolded him so much he choked on his blood,\" she crowed. \"And the others were cowed at once. That's what you call terror! '\n\nShe was dripping in jewels as usual, and even had a diamond stud in her nose. She was not wearing leather, but a short cherry-red jacket with a fine brocade pattern. Her look was established enough to be all the rage among the gilded youth of Thurn. Like the silk scarf wrapped around Giselher's head. Hotspurn had even heard of girls asking for'Mistle' haircuts.\n\n\"That's what you call terror, \"he repeated pensively, still looking at the patch of blood on the floor.\"What about the station keeper? His wife? And son? '\n\n\"No, no,\" Giselher scowled. \"Think we did for all of them? Not at all. We locked them in the pantry fora while. Now the station, as you see, is ours.\"\n\nKayleigh swilled wine around his mouth, then spat it out on the floor. He took a small quantity of fisstech from the casket with a tiny spoon, meticulously sprinkled it on the spit-moistened tip of his index finger and rubbed the narcotic into his gums. He handed the casket to Falka, who repeated the ritual and passed the fisstech to Reef. The Nilfgaardian turned it down, busy looking at a catalogue of colourful tattoos, and handed the box to Iskra. The she-elf passed it to Giselher without taking any.\n\n\"Terror!\" she growled, narrowing her flashing eyes and sniffing. \"We have the station in the grip of terror! Emperor Emhyr holds the entire world this way, and we only this hovel. But the principle's the same! '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Owww, dammit!\" yelled Mistle from the table. \"Be careful what you prick! Do that one more time and I'll prick you! Right through! '\n\nThe Rats– apart from Falka and Giselher– roared with laughter.\n\n\"If you want to be beautiful you have to suffer!\" Iskra called.\n\n\"Prick her, master, prick her,\" Kayleigh added. \"She's hardened between the legs! '\n\nFalka swore copiously and threw a beaker at him. Kayleigh ducked and the Rats roared with laughter again.\n\n\"So.\" Hotspurn decided to put an end to the gaiety. \"You hold the station in the grip of terror. But what for? Other than the satisfaction you derive from terrorising station keepers\" families? '\n\n\"We,\" Giselher answered, rubbing fisstech into his gums, \"are lying in wait. Should someone stop to change horses or rest, they'll be stripped clean. It's more comfortable here than on a crossroads or in the thicket by the highway. But, as Iskra has just said, the principle's the same. '\n\n\"But today, since daybreak, only this one's fallen into our grasp, \"Reef interjected, pointing at Master Almavera, his head almost hidden between Mistle's parted thighs. \"A pauper, like every artist. Had nothing to rob, so we're robbing him of his art. Take a look at how ingeniously he draws. '\n\nHe bared his forearm and displayed a bloody tattoo: a naked woman who wiggled her buttocks when he clenched his fist. Kayleigh also showed off. A green snake with an open maw and a scarlet, forked tongue writhed around his arm, above a spiked bracelet." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"A tasteful piece,\" Hotspurn said indifferently. \"And helpful when corpses are being identified. However, you failed with the robbery, my dear Rats. You'll have to pay the artist for his skill. There was no time to warn you; for seven days, from the first of September, the sign has been a purple split arrow. He has one painted on his wagon. '\n\nReef swore under his breath and Kayleigh laughed. Giselher waved a hand indifferently.\n\n\"Too bad. If needs must we'll pay him for his needles and dye. A purple arrow, say you? We'll remember. If someone rides up with the sign of the arrow between now and tomorrow, he won't be harmed. '\n\n\"You plan to stay here till tomorrow?\" Hotspurn said with slightly exaggerated astonishment. \"That's imprudent, Rats. It's risky and dangerous!\"\n\n\"You what?\"\n\n\"Risky and dangerous!\"\n\nGiselher shrugged, Iskra snorted and cleared her nose onto the floor. Reef, Kayleigh and Falka looked at Hotspurn as though he'd just declared that the sun had fallen into the river and must be fished out before the crayfish pinched it. Hotspurn understood that he had merely appealed to the reckless pups\" good sense, of which they had little. That he had alerted these braggarts to risk and danger. Braggarts– all reckless bravado– for whom those concepts were utterly alien.\n\n\"They're coming for you, Rats. '\n\n\"What of it?\"\n\nHotspurn sighed.\n\nMistle– without having taken the trouble to dress– came over to them and interrupted the discussion. She placed afoot on the bench and– twisting her hips– demonstrated to all and sundry the work of Master Almavera: a crimson rose on a green stem with two leaves, on her inner thigh, right by her groin." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well?\" she asked, hands on hips. Her bracelets, which almost reached her elbows, flashed brilliantly. \"What do you say?\"\n\n\"Exquisite!\" Kayleigh snorted, brushing his hair aside. Hotspurn had noticed that the Rat had rings in his ears. There was no doubt that similar earrings– like studded leather or silk scarves– would soon be the latest thing among the gilded youth in Thurn and the whole of Geso.\n\n\"Your turn, Falka,\" said Mistle. \"What will you have?\"\n\nFalka touched her friend's thigh, leaned over and examined the tattoo. From very close. Mistle ruffled Falka's ashen-grey hair tenderly. Falka giggled and, without further ado, began to undress.\n\n\"I want the same rose,\" she said. \"In the same place as you, darling.\"\n\n\"How many mice you have here, Vysogota!\" Ciri said, breaking off her story and looking down at the floor, where a veritable mouse circus was taking place in the circle of light thrown by the oil lamp. One could only imagine what was happening in the gloom beyond the light.\n\n\"A cat would come in useful. Or, better still, two.\"\n\n\"The rodents,\" the hermit coughed, \"are coming inside because winter is drawing nigh. And I had a cat. But it wandered off somewhere, the good-for-nothing, and never came back.\"\n\n\"It was probably taken by a fox or marten.\"\n\n\"You never saw that cat, Ciri. If something took it, it would have had to be a dragon. Nothing smaller.\"\n\n\"Was he that ferocious? Oh, that's a pity. He wouldn't have let these mice scamper allover my bed. Pity.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yes, it is a pity. But I think he'll return. Cats always do. '\n\n\"I'll buildup the fire. It's cold.\"\n\n\"It is. The nights are perishingly cold now... And it's not even halfway through October yet... Goon, Ciri. '\n\nFora while Ciri sat motionless, staring into the fireplace. The fire sprang to life with the new wood, crackled, roared, and threw golden light and flickering shadows onto the girl's scarred face.\n\n\"Go on.\"\n\nMaster Almavera pricked, and Ciri felt the tears tingling in the corners of her eyes. Although she had prudently intoxicated herself before the operation with wine and white powder, the pain was almost unbearable. She clenched her teeth. She did not groan, naturally, but pretended not to pay attention to the needle and to scorn the pain. She tried blithely to take part in the conversation the Rats were having with Hotspurn, an individual who wished to bethought of as a merchant, but who– apart from the fact that he lived off merchants– had nothing in common with trade.\n\n\"Dark clouds have gathered above your heads,\" Hotspurn said, his dark eyes sweeping over the Rats'faces.\"Isn't it bad enough that the Prefect of Amarillo is hunting you, that the Varnhagens are pursuing you, that the Baron of Casadei-?\"\n\n\"Him?\" Giselher grimaced. \"I can understand the prefect and the Varnhagens, but what has that Casadei got against us?\"\n\n\"The wolf is dressed in sheep's clothing, \"Hotspurn said, smiling,\"and pitifully bleats baa, baa, no one likes me, no one understands me. Wherever I appear they throw stones at me. They shout'Hallo\". Why, oh why? Why such unfairness and injustice? The daughter of the Baron of Casadei, my dear Rats, after her adventure by the River Wagtail, grows ever weaker and feverish... '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Aaah,\" Giselher recalled. \"That carriage with those four spotted horses! That maiden?\"\n\n\"That one. Now, as I said, she ails, wakes up in the night screaming, recalling Mr Kayleigh... But especially Miss Falka. And the brooch, a keepsake of her departed mamma, which Miss Falka wrested from her dress. Various words are repeated all the while.\"\n\n\"It wasn't like that at all! \"Ciri yelled from the table, able to react to the pain by shouting.\"We showed the baron's daughter contempt and disrespect by letting her getaway with it! The wench should have been ravaged!\"\n\n\"Indeed.\" Ciri sensed Hotspurn's gaze on her naked thighs.\"Verily a great dishonour not to have ravaged her. No wonder then, that the offended Casadei has assembled an armed squad and offered a reward. He has sworn publicly that you will all hang head down from the corbels on the walls of his castle. He also swore that for the brooch wrenched from his daughter he will flay Miss Falka. Alive. '\n\nCiri swore, and the Rats roared in wild laughter. Iskra sneezed and covered herself in snot; the fisstech was irritating her mucous membranes.\n\n\"We disdain our pursuers,\" she declared, wiping her nose, mouth, chin and the table. \"The prefect, the baron, the Varnhagens! They can hunt us, but they won't catch us! We are the Rats! We zigzagged back and forth on the far side of the Velda and now those dolts are at sixes and sevens, going the wrong way along a cold trail. They will have gone too far to turnaround by the time they catch on. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Let them turnaround!\" Asse said heatedly. He had returned sometime before from sentry duty. No one had replaced him and no one seemed about to. \"We'll slaughter them and that's that!\"\n\n\"Exactly!\" Ciri screamed from the table, having already forgotten how they had fled from their pursuers through the villages beside the Velda and how terrified she had been.\n\n\"Very well.\" Giselher slammed his open palm down on the table, abruptly putting an end to the noisy chatter. \"Speak, Hotspurn. For I can see you wish to tell us something else, something of greater note than the prefect, the Varnhagens, the Baron of Casadei and his sensitive daughter.\"\n\n\"Bonhart is on your trail.\"\n\nAvery long silence fell. Even Master Almavera stopped working fora moment.\n\n\"Bonhart,\" Giselher repeated in a slow, drawling voice. \"That grey-haired old blackguard? We must have really annoyed someone.\"\n\n\"Someone wealthy,\" Mistle added. \"Not everyone can afford Bonhart.\"\n\nCiri was about to ask who this Bonhart was, but Asse and Reef– speaking almost at once, in unison– were quicker.\n\n\"He's a bounty hunter, \"Giselher explained grimly.\"Years ago he took the king's shilling, they say. Then he was a wandering merchant, and finally began killing people for the bounty. He's a whoreson like no other. '\n\n\"They say,\" Kayleigh said quite carelessly, \"that if you wanted to bury everyone Bonhart has put to the sword in one graveyard, it would have to measure a good half-acre.\"\n\nMistle poured a pinch of the white powder into the dimple between her thumb and forefinger, and sniffed it up vigorously." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Bonhart broke up Big Lothar's gang, \"she said.\"He carved up him and his brother, the one they called Muchomorek. '\n\n\"Stabbed them in the back, they say,\" Kayleigh threw in.\n\n\"He killed Valdez, too,\" Giselher added. \"And when Valdez perished, his gang fell apart. One of the better ones. A solid, hard firm. Good scrappers. I thought about joining them atone time. Before we teamed up.\"\n\n\"It's all true, \"Hotspurn said.\"There's never been a gang like Valdez's and there never will be again. A merry air is sung about how they fought their way out of a trap at Sarda. Aye, bold they were, aye, daredevils they were! Few are their equal. '\n\nThe Rats suddenly fell silent and fixed their eyes on him, blazing and furious.\n\n\"The six of us,\" Kayleigh drawled after a brief silence, \"once broke through a troop of Nilfgaardian horse!\"\n\n\"We sprang Kayleigh from the Nissirs!\" Asse snapped.\n\n\"Few are our equal!\" Reef hissed.\n\n\"That is so, Hotspurn.\" Giselher threw out his chest. \"The Rats are second to no other gang, not even Valdez's mob. Daredevils, you say? Well I'll tell you something about she-devils. Iskra, Mistle and Falka– the very three sitting here before you– rode in broad daylight down the high street in Druigh, and when they realised that the Varnhagens were in the tavern, they galloped right through it! Right through, I tell you! They rode in through the front and out into the courtyard. And the Varnhagens were left standing open-mouthed over broken beer mugs and spilled beer. Will you say that wasn't dashing? '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"He won't, \"Mistle cut in before Hotspurn could reply, smiling nastily.\"He won't, because he knows who the Rats are. And his guild knows too.\"\n\nMaster Almavera had finished the tattoo. Ciri thanked him with a haughty expression, dressed, and sat down with the company. She snorted, feeling the strange, appraising– and seemingly mocking– gaze of Hotspurn on her. She glowered at him, ostentatiously cuddling up to Mistle. She had already learned that such behaviour discomfited and cooled the zeal of gentlemen with flirtation in mind. In the case of Hotspurn she acted with a little more exaggeration, for the pretend merchant was not so intrusive in that way.\n\nHotspurn was an enigma to Ciri. She had only seen him once before and Mistle had told her the rest. Hotspurn and Giselher, she had explained, knew each other and had been comrades forages, and had agreed signals, passwords and meeting places. During those rendezvous Hotspurn passed on information– and then they travelled to the road indicated and robbed the indicated merchant, convoy or caravan. Sometimes they killed a specific person. There was always also an agreed sign; they were not allowed to attack merchants with that sign on their wagons.\n\nAt first Ciri had been astonished and slightly disappointed; she looked up to Giselher, and considered the Rats a model of freedom and independence. She loved their freedom, their contempt for everything and everybody. And now they unexpectedly had to carryout contracts. Like hired thugs, they were being told who to beat up. But that was not all; someone was ordering them to beat someone up and they were sheepishly complying.\n\nIt's quid pro quo. Mistle had shrugged when Ciri bombarded her with questions. Hotspurn gives us orders, but also information, thanks to which we survive. Freedom and contempt have their limits. Anyway, it's always like that. You're always somebody's tool." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Such is life, Little Falcon.\n\nCiri was surprised and disappointed, but she got over it quickly. She was learning. She had also learned not to be too surprised or to expect too much– for then the disappointment was less acute.\n\n\"I, my dear Rats,\" Hotspurn said in the meantime, \"might have a remedy for your difficulties. For the Nissirs, barons, prefects, and even Bonhart. Yes, yes. For even though the noose is tightening around your necks, I might have away for you to slip out of it.\"\n\nIskra snorted, Reef cackled. But Giselher silenced them with a gesture, allowing Hotspurn to continue. \"The word is out,\" the merchant said a moment later, \"that an amnesty will be proclaimed any day now. That even if a sentence is hanging over someone, why, even if the noose is hanging over them, it will be waived if they simply present themselves to the authorities and confess their guilt. That applies to you too.\"\n\n\"Bollocks!\" Kayleigh cried, eyes watering a little because he had just inhaled a pinch of fisstech. \"It's a Nilfgaardian trick, a ruse! We old warhorses won't betaken in like that!\"\n\n\"Hold hard,\" Giselher halted him. \"Don't be hasty, Kayleigh. Hotspurn, as we know, doesn't usually dissemble nor break his word. He usually knows what he's saying and why. So he surely knows and will tell us where this sudden Nilfgaardian generosity has come from. '\n\n\"Emperor Emhyr,\" Hotspurn said calmly, \"is taking a wife. We shall soon have an empress in Nilfgaard. Which is why they're to proclaim an amnesty. The emperor is reportedly mighty content, so he wishes contentment on others too. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I don't give a shit about imperial contentment, \"Mistle announced haughtily.\"And I won't be availing myself of the amnesty, because that Nilfgaardian kindness smells like fresh shavings. As though someone's been sharpening a stake. Ha! '\n\nHotspurn shrugged. \"I doubt that it's trickery. It's apolitical matter. And a great one. Greater than you, Rats, than all of the local mobs put together. It's politics. '\n\n\"You what?\" Giselher frowned. \"I don't understand a damned thing you're saying.\"\n\n\"Emhyr's marriage is political, and political issues are to be secured through that wedding. The emperor is forging a union through marriage, he wants to unify the empire more securely, put an end to border unrest, bring peace. For do you know who he's marrying? Cirilla, the heiress to the throne of Cintra.\"\n\n\"Lies!\" Ciri yelled. \"Hogwash!\"\n\n\"By what right do you accuse me of lying, Miss Falka?\" Hotspurn raised his eyes towards her. \"Perhaps you are better informed?\"\n\n\"Certainly am!\"\n\n\"Quiet, Falka.\" Giselher grimaced. \"He pricked your tail on the table and you were quiet, and now you're bawling? What is this Cintra, Hotspurn? Who is this Cirilla? Why should it be so important? '\n\n\"Cintra,\" Reef interjected, pouring fisstech on his finger, \"is a little state in the North over which the empire fought with the local rulers. About three or four years ago.\"\n\n\"Agreed,\" Hotspurn confirmed. \"The imperial forces conquered Cintra and even crossed the River Yarra, but had to withdraw later.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Because they took a beating at Sodden Hill,\" snapped Ciri. \"They almost lost their breeches they retreated so fast!\"\n\n\"Miss Falka, I see, is familiar with recent history. It's creditable, creditable at such a young age. May one ask where Miss Falka attended school? '\n\n\"One may not!\"\n\n\"Enough!\" Giselher demanded quiet again. \"Talk about this Cintra, Hotspurn. And about the amnesty.\"\n\n\"Imperator Emhyr,\" the so-called merchant said, \"has decided to turn Cintra into a parasitic state...\"\n\n\"A what?\"\n\n\"Parasitic. Like ivy, which can't exist without a powerful tree trunk around which it wraps itself. And the tree trunk is, of course, Nilfgaard. There are other such states, such as Metinna, Maecht, Toussaint... Where local dynasties govern, or pretend to govern. '\n\n\"That's called a parent's antinomy,\" Reef boasted. \"I've heard of it. '\n\n\"Nonetheless, the problem with Cintra was that the royal line died out...\"\n\n\"Died out?\" It was as though green sparks would shoot from Ciri's eyes at any moment.\"Died out, my hat! The Nilfgaardians murdered Queen Calanthe! Simply murdered her! '\n\n\"I do own–\" with a gesture Hotspurn quieted Giselher, who was once again about to berate Ciri for interrupting\"– that Miss Falka continues to dazzle us with her knowledge. The queen of Cintra did indeed fall during the war. It is believed that her granddaughter, Cirilla, the last of the royal blood, also fell. Thus Emhyr did not have much from which to create that apparent autonomy– as Mr Reef so wisely said. Until Cirilla suddenly showed up again, as if from nowhere.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Huh." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Just fairy tales,\" snorted Iskra, resting on Giselher's arm.\n\n\"Indeed.\" Hotspurn nodded. \"A little like a fairy tale, it must be confessed. They say that this Cirilla was imprisoned by an evil witch somewhere in the far North, in a magical tower. But Cirilla managed to flee and beg for asylum in the empire.\"\n\n\"That is one damn great load of false hogwash and balderdash!\" yelled Ciri, reaching for the casket of fisstech with shaking hands.\n\n\"While Imperator Emhyr, so the rumour goes–\" Hotspurn continued unperturbed\"– fell madly in love with her when he saw her and wants to take her for his wife. So he offers an amnesty.\"\n\n\"Little Falcon is right,\" Mistle said firmly, emphasising her words by banging her fist on the table. \"That's balderdash! I can't bloody under-bloody-stand what this is all about. One thing I know for certain: basing any hopes of Nilfgaardian benevolence on that balderdash would be even greater balderdash.\"\n\n\"That's right! \"Reef said, supporting her.\"There's nothing in the imperial marriage for us. No matter whom the emperor marries, another betrothed will always be waiting for us. One twisted out of hemp!\"\n\n\"This isn't about your necks, my dear Rats, \"Hotspurn reminded them.\"This is politics. There's no let-up to the endless rebellions, uprisings and disorder on the northern marches of the empire, particularly in Cintra and its surroundings. And if the imperator takes the heiress of Cintra fora wife, Cintra will calm down. There'll be a solemn amnesty, and the rebellious parties will comedown from the mountains, stop besetting the imperial forces and making trouble. Why, if the Cintran ascends the imperial throne, perhaps the rebels will join the imperial army! And you know, after all, that in the North, on the far side of the River Yarra, there is war. And every soldier counts. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Aha.\" Kayleigh grimaced. \"Now I get it! That's their amnesty! They'll give us a choice: here's a sharpened stake and there's the imperial livery. You can have a stake up your arse or the livery on your back. And off to war, to die for the empire!\"\n\n\"Indeed,\" Hotspurn said slowly, \"anything can happen in war. Nonetheless, not everyone must fight, my dear Rats. Of course, after fulfilling the terms of the amnesty, after disclosing and admitting one's guilt, a certain kind of... substitute service might be possible. '\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"I know what this is about.\" Giselher's teeth flashed briefly in his weather-beaten face, blue from stubble.\"The merchant's guild, my little ones, would like to take us in. Caress and nurse us. Like a doting mother.\"\n\n\"Whore mother, more like,\" Iskra grunted under her breath. Hotspurn pretended not to hear.\n\n\"You are completely right, Giselher,\" he said coldly. \"The guild may, if it so wishes, hire you. Officially, fora change. And take you in. Give you protection. Also officially and, also, fora change.\"\n\nKayleigh was going to say something, Mistle too, but a swift glance from Giselher kept them both silent.\n\n\"Tell the guild, Hotspurn,\" the leader of the Rats said icily, \"that we are grateful for the offer. We shall think it over, reflect on it and discuss it. And decide what to do.\"\n\nHotspurn stood up.\n\n\"I ride.\"\n\n\"Now, with darkness falling?\"\n\n\"I shall overnight in the village. I feel awkward here. And tomorrow straight to the border with Metinna, then down the main highway to Forgeham, where I'll stay until the Equinox, and who knows? Maybe longer. For I shall wait therefor anyone who has thought it through, and is ready to turn themselves in and wait for the amnesty under my protection. And I advise you not to dilly-dally, either, with your reflecting and your pondering. For Bonhart is liable to outpace the amnesty. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You keep frightening us with Bonhart,\" Giselher said slowly, also standing up. \"Anyone would think he was just around the corner... When he's probably over the hills and faraway... '\n\n\"... in Jealousy,\" Hotspurn finished calmly. \"In the inn called The Chimera's Head. About thirty miles hence. If not for your zigzags by the Velda, you probably would have run into him yesterday. But that doesn't worry you, I know. Farewell, Giselher. Farewell, Rats. Master Almavera? I'm riding to Metinna, and I'm always happy to have company on the road... What did you say? Gladly? As I thought. Pack up your things then. Pay the master, Rats, for his artistic efforts.\"\n\nThe postal station smelled of fried onions and potato soup. They had been cooked by the station keeper's wife, temporarily released from her imprisonment in the pantry. A candle on the table spat, pulsated, and swayed with a whisker of flame. The Rats leaned so tightly over the table that the flame warmed their almost-touching heads.\n\n\"He's in Jealousy, \"Giselher said softly.\"In The Chimera's Head. Only a day's ride from here. What do you think of that? '\n\n\"The same as you,\" Kayleigh snarled. \"Let's ride over and kill the whoreson. '\n\n\"Let's avenge Valdez, \"Reef said.\"And Muchomorek. '\n\n\"Then various Hotspurns,\" Iskra hissed, \"won't shove other people's fame and daring down our throats. We'll kill Bonhart, that scavenger, that werewolf. We'll nail his head above the inn door, to match the name! So everyone will see he wasn't a hard man, but a mere mortal like everyone else, one who finally took on someone better than himself. That'll show folk which gang is number one, from Korath to Pereplut!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They'll be singing songs about us at markets! \"Kayleigh said heatedly.\"Why, and in castles! '\n\n\"Let's ride! \"Asse slammed his hand down hard on the table,\"Let's ride and destroy the bastard.\"\n\n\"And afterwards,\" Giselher pondered, \"we'll think about that amnesty... that guild... Why are you twisting up your face, Kayleigh, as though you've bitten a louse? They're on our heels and winter's coming. Here's what I think, little Rats: let's winter, warming our arses by the fireplace, blanketed from the cold by the amnesty, swigging mulled amnesty beer. We'll see out this amnesty nice and politely... more or less... till the spring. And in the spring... when the grass peeps out from under the snow... '\n\nThe Rats laughed in unison, softly, ominously. Their eyes flared like those of real rats when they approach a wounded man incapable of defending himself at night in a dark alley.\n\n\"Let's drink, \"Giselher said,\"to Bonhart's confusion! Let's eat that soup, and then go to bed. Rest, for we set off before sunrise. '\n\n\"That's right, \"Iskra snorted.\"Let's follow Mistle and Falka's example. They've been in bed for an hour.\"\n\nThe postal station keeper's wife trembled by the cauldron, hearing once again their soft, evil, hideous giggling.\n\nCiri raised her head. Fora longtime she said nothing, eyes fixed on the barely flickering flame of the lamp, where the last fish oil was burning down.\n\n\"I slipped out of the station like a thief,\" she continued the story. \"Before dawn, in total darkness... But I didn't manage to flee unseen. Mistle must have woken when I was getting out of bed. She caught me in the stable, when I was saddling the horse. But she didn't show any surprise. And she didn't try to stop me. The sun was starting to rise... '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Now it's not too far till our dawn, \"yawned Vysogota.\"Time to sleep, Ciri. You can take up the story tomorrow. '\n\n\"Perhaps you're right. \"She also yawned, stood and stretched vigorously.\"Because my eyelids are getting heavy. But at this pace, hermit, I'll never finish. How many evenings have we had together? At least ten. I'm afraid that the whole story might take a thousand and one nights. '\n\n\"We have time, Ciri. We have time.\"\n\n\"Who do you want to run from, Little Falcon? From me? Or from yourself?\"\n\n\"I've finished running. Now I want to catch up with something. Which is why I must return... to where everything began. I must. Please understand, Mistle. '\n\n\"So that was why... why you were so nice tome today. For the first time in so many days... The last time? To bid farewell? And then forget me?\"\n\n\"I'll never forget you, Mistle. '\n\n\"You will.\"\n\n\"Never. I swear. And it wasn't the last time. I'll find you. I'll come to you... I'll come in a golden carriage and six. With a retinue of courtiers. You'll see. I'll soon have... possibilities. Great possibilities. I'll change your fortunes... You'll see. You'll find out what I'll be capable of doing. Of changing.\"\n\n\"You need great power to do that,\" Mistle sighed. \"And tremendous magic...\"\n\n\"And that's also possible. \"Ciri licked her lips.\"Magic too... I can recover... everything I once lost can be restored. And be mine once more. I promise you, you'll be astonished when we meet again.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Mistle turned her closely-cropped head away, eyes fixed on the pink and blue streaks the dawn had painted above the eastern edge of the world.\n\n\"Indeed,\" she said quietly. \"I shall be astonished if we ever meet again. If I ever see you again, little one. Go. Let's not drag this out. '\n\n\"Wait for me,\" Ciri sniffed. \"And don't get yourself killed. Think about the amnesty Hotspurn was talking about. Even if Giselher and the others don't want to... You think about it, Mistle. It maybe away to survive... Because I will comeback for you. I swear.\"\n\n\"Kiss me.\"\n\nThe dawn broke. The light grew and it became colder and colder.\n\n\"I love you, Waxwing.\"\n\n\"I love you, Little Falcon. Now go.\"\n\n\"Of course, she didn't believe me. She was convinced I'd got cold feet, that I'd rush after Hotspurn to look for help, to beg for that tempting amnesty. How could she know what feelings had overcome me, as I listened to what Hotspurn had said about Cintra and my grandmamma Calanthe? And about how some'Cirilla\" would become the wife of the Emperor of Nilfgaard? That same emperor who had murdered my grandmamma. And who had sent that black knight with feathers on his helmet after me. I told you, remember? On the Isle of Thanedd, when he held out his hand tome, I made him bleed! I ought to have killed him... But somehow I couldn't... I was a fool! Oh, never mind. Perhaps he bled to death on Thanedd... Why are you looking at me like that?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Go on. Tell me how you rode after Hotspurn, to recover your inheritance. To recover what belonged to you.\"\n\n\"There's no need to sneer, no need to mock. Yes, I know it was stupid, I see it now, I saw it then too... I was cleverer in Kaer Morhen and in the temple of Melitele, there I knew that what had passed could not return, that I wasn't the Princess of Cintra but someone completely different, that I had no inheritance. All of that was lost and I had to reconcile myself to it. It was explained tome wisely and solemnly, and I accepted it. Calmly, too. And then it suddenly began to comeback. First, when they tried to impress me with the Baron of Casadei's daughter's title... I'd never been bothered about such things, but suddenly I fell into a fury, put on airs and yelled that I was more titled and of better birth than she. And from then on I began to think about it. I felt the fury growing in me. Do you understand that, Vysogota? '\n\n\"I do.\"\n\n\"And Hotspurn's story was the last straw. I was almost boiling with rage... I had been told so much about destiny in the past... But here was someone else about to benefit from my destiny, thanks to simple fraud. Someone had passed themselves off as me, as Ciri of Cintra, and would have everything, would live in the lap of luxury... I couldn't think of anything else... I suddenly realised I was hungry, cold, sleeping outdoors, that I had to wash in freezing streams... Me! When I ought to have a gold-plated bathtub! Water perfumed with spikenard and roses! Warmed towels! Clean bed linen! Do you understand, Vysogota?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I do.\"\n\n\"I was suddenly ready to ride to the nearest prefecture, to the nearest fort, to those black-cloaked Nilfgaardians whom I so feared and whom I hated so much... I was ready to say, \"I am Ciri, you Nilfgaardian morons. Your stupid emperor ought to take meas his wife. Some impudent fraud has been shoved into your emperor's arms, and that idiot hasn't realised he's being swindled\". I was so determined I would have done it, given the opportunity. Without a thought. Do you understand, Vysogota? '\n\n\"I do.\"\n\n\"Fortunately, I calmed down.\"\n\n\"To your great fortune.\" He nodded gravely. \"The matter of the imperial marriage bears all the hallmarks of apolitical scandal, a battle of factions or fractions. Had you revealed yourself, thwarting other influential forces, you wouldn't have escaped the dagger or poison. '\n\n\"I understood that too. And remembered it. I remembered it well. To reveal who I was would mean death. I had the chance to convince myself of it. But let us not get ahead of the story.\"\n\nThey were silent for sometime, working with the skins. A few days before, the catch had been unexpectedly good. Many muskrats and coypus, two otters and a beaver had been caught in the traps and snares. So they had a great deal of work.\n\n\"Did you catch up with Hotspurn?\" Vysogota finally asked.\n\n\"I did.\" Ciri wiped her forehead with her sleeve. \"Quite quickly, actually, because he was in no hurry. And he wasn't at all surprised when he saw me! '\n\n\"Miss Falka!\" Hotspurn tugged at the reins, gracefully spinning the black mare around. \"What a pleasant surprise! Although I confess it's not such a great one. I expected it, I can't conceal that I expected it. I knew you would make the right choice, miss. A wise choice. I noticed a flash of intelligence in your lovely and charming eyes.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Ciri rode closer, so that their stirrups almost touched." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then she hawked at length, leaned over and spat on the sand of the highway. She had learned to spit in that hideous but effective way when it was necessary to dampen somebody's enthusiasm.\n\n\"I understand,\" Hotspurn smiled slightly, \"you wish to take advantage of the amnesty?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"To what, then, should I ascribe the joy which the sight of your comely face evokes in me, miss?\"\n\n\"Must there be a reason?\" she snapped. \"You said you'd be pleased to have company on the road. '\n\n\"Nothing has changed.\" He grinned more broadly. \"But if I'm wrong about the issue of the amnesty, I'm not certain we should keep company. We find ourselves, as you see, at a crossroads. A junction, the four points of the compass, the need fora choice... Symbolism, as in that well-known legend. If you ride east you will not return... If you ride west you will not return... If you ride north... Hmm... Amnesty lies north of this post-\"\n\n\"You can shove your amnesty.\"\n\n\"Whatever you say, miss. So where, if I may ask, does your road lead? Which path from this symbolic crossroads will you choose? Master Almavera, artist of the needle, drove his mules westwards, towards the small town of Fano. The eastern highway leads to the settlement of Jealousy, but I would very much advise against that.\"\n\n\"The River Yarra,\" Ciri said slowly, \"is the Nilfgaardian name for the River Yaruga, right?\"\n\n\"Such a learned maiden–\" he leaned over and looked her in the eye\"– and she doesn't know that? '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Can't you answer in a civilised fashion, when you're asked in a civilised fashion?\n\n\"I was only joking! Why bristle so? Yes, it's the same river. In elven and Nilfgaardian it's the Yarra, in the North it's the Yaruga. '\n\n\"And at the mouth of that river,\" continued Ciri, \"lies Cintra?\"\n\n\"That's right. Cintra. '\n\n\"From where we are now, how far is it to Cintra? How many miles?\"\n\n\"Plenty. And it depends what kind of miles you count it in. Almost every nation has its own, so it's easy to make a mistake. It's more convenient, using the method of all wandering merchants, to calculate such distances in days. Reaching Cintra would take twenty-five to thirty days.\"\n\n\"Which way? Due north?\"\n\n\"Miss Falka seems very curious about Cintra. Why?\"\n\n\"I want to ascend to the throne there.\"\n\n\"Very well, very well.\" Hotspurn raised his hand in a defensive gesture. \"I understood the gentle deflection, I won't ask anymore questions. The most direct road to Cintra, paradoxically, doesn't lead due north, for wildernesses and boggy lakes would hinder your progress. First, you should head towards the town of Forgeham, and then north-west to Metinna, the capital of a country with exactly the same name. Afterwards you ought to ride across the plain of Mag Deira, on the merchant's road to the town of Neunreuth. Only from there should you head for the north road, which runs along the valley of the River Yelena. From there it's easy– military units and transports ply the road without let-up via Nazair and the Marnadal Stairs, which is a pass leading north to the Marnadal Valley. And the Marnadal Valley is Cintra.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Hmm...\" Ciri's eyes were fixed on the misty horizon, at the blurred line of black hills.\"To Forgeham and then north-west... You mean... Which way? '\n\n\"You know what, miss?\" Hotspurn smiled slightly. \"I'm heading towards Forgeham, and then to Metinna. See, down that track, that line of yellow sand between those young pines? Ride that way with me, and you won't lose your way. Amnesty or no amnesty, but it will be pleasant to travel with such a charming maiden.\"\n\nCiri measured him up with the coldest glance she could manage. Hotspurn bit his lip with a puckish smile.\n\n\"So?\"\n\n\"Let's ride. '\n\n\"Bravo, Miss Falka. Wise decision. I said that you were as wise as you were beautiful. I was right.\"\n\n\"Stop calling me'miss\", Hotspurn. In your mouth it sounds insulting, and I won't let myself be insulted with impunity. '\n\n\"As you wish, miss.\"\n\nThe day did not fulfil the beautiful dawn's promise. It was grey and wet. The damp fog dimmed the intensity of the autumnal leaves of the trees leaning over the road, displaying a thousand shades of ochre, red and yellow.\n\nThe damp air smelled of bark and mushrooms.\n\nThey rode at a walkover a carpet of fallen leaves, but Hotspurn often spurred his black mare to a gentle trot or canter. During those moments Ciri looked on in delight.\n\n\"Does she have a name?\"\n\n\"No.\" Hotspurn flashed his teeth. \"I treat my mounts functionally. I change them regularly and don't became attached to them. I think giving horses names is pretentious, if one doesn't run a stable. Do you agree with me? Blacky the horse, Fido the dog and Felix the cat. Pretentious!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ciri didn't like his gaze or ambiguous smiles, and especially disliked the slightly mocking tone he used when talking and answering questions. So she adopted a simple tactic– she remained silent, spoke in monosyllables and did not provoke him. When possible. It was not always possible. Particularly when he talked about that amnesty of his. Thus when once again– and quite sternly– she expressed her reluctance, Hotspurn surprisingly changed his approach; he abruptly began trying to prove that in her case an amnesty was not necessary, it simply did not apply to her. The amnesty concerned criminals, he said, not victims of crimes. Ciri roared with laughter.\n\n\"You're a victim yourself, Hotspurn! '\n\n\"I was speaking seriously,\" he assured her. \"Not in order to arouse your girlish glee, but to suggest away of saving your skin in the event of being captured. Something like that won't work on the Baron of Casadei, nor can you expect clemency from the Varnhagens. The most favourable outcome is that they would hang you on the spot, quickly and, all being well, quite painlessly. Were you, however, to fall into the hands of the prefect and stood before the austere, but just, imperial law... Ha, then I would suggest the following line of defence: breakdown in tears and declare that you were the innocent victim of a coincidence. '\n\n\"And who would believe that?\"\n\n\"Everybody would.\" Hotspurn leaned over in the saddle and looked her in the eye. \"Because that's the truth. You are an innocent victim, Falka. You aren't even sixteen, so according to the empire's law you're a minor. You ended up in the Rats\" gang by accident. It's not your fault that one of the bandits, Mistle, whose unnatural tastes are no secret, took a fancy to you. You were dominated by Mistle, sexually abused and forced to-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Now it's all clear, \"Ciri interrupted, amazed by her own calm.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It's finally clear what this is all about, Hotspurn. I've seen men like you before. '\n\n\"Indeed?\"\n\n\"Just like every cockerel,\" she said, still composed, \"your comb bristles at the thought of me and Mistle. Like every stupid tomcat it dawns in your stupid noggin to try to cure me of this sickness which is contrary to nature, to turn the deviant back onto the road of truth. But do you know what is truly disgusting and contrary to nature in all that? Your thoughts!\"\n\nHotspurn observed her in silence, with a somewhat mysterious smirk on his thin lips.\n\n\"My thoughts, dear Falka,\" he said a moment later, \"may not be decent, may not be nice, and they are obviously not innocent... But, by the Gods, they are in keeping with nature. With my nature. You dome a disservice, thinking that my attraction to you has its basis in some... perverted curiosity. Ha, you also do yourself a disservice, by not being aware– or not wanting to realise– that your captivating appeal and uncommon beauty are capable of bringing any man to his knees. That the charm of your glance-\"\n\n\"Listen, Hotspurn,\" she interrupted. \"Do you want to bed me?\"\n\n\"What intelligence,\" he said, spreading his hands. \"I'm simply lost for words. '\n\n\"Then I'll help you. \"She spurred her horse a little, in order to look at him over her shoulder.\"Because I have plenty of words. I feel honoured. In other circumstances, who knows... If you were someone else, ha! But you, Hotspurn, do not attract meat all. Nothing, simply nothing, about you attracts me. And actually, I'd say, it's the reverse: everything about you puts me off. You can see for yourself that in such circumstances the sexual act would be contrary to nature. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Hotspurn laughed, also spurring on his horse. The black mare danced on the track, gracefully lifting her shapely head. Ciri fidgeted in the saddle, fighting with a strange feeling which had suddenly woken in her, somewhere deep in the pit of her stomach, but which quickly and doggedly struggled outside, onto her skin, quivering from the touch of her clothing. I've told him the truth, she thought. I don't like him, by the devil, it's his horse I like, that black mare. Not him, but his horse... What damned foolishness! No, no, no! Even if I wasn't thinking of Mistle, it would be ridiculous and stupid to yield to him just because the sight of that black mare dancing on the track excites me.\n\nHotspurn let her ride closer and looked her in the eyes with a strange smirk. Then he jerked the reins again, making the mare take short steps, circle and walk gracefully sideways. He knows, thought Ciri, the old rascal knows what I'm feeling.\n\nDamn it. I'm simply curious!\n\n\"Some pine needles,\" Hotspurn said gently, riding up very close and extending a hand, \"have got caught in your hair. I'll remove them if you allow. And I'll add that the gesture springs from my gallantry, not from perverted lust.\"\n\nThe touch– which came as no surprise to her at all– caused her pleasure. She was still very far from a decision, but just to be sure she reckoned the days from her last bleeding. Yennefer had taught her that; to count in advance and with a cool head, because afterwards, when things got hot, a strange aversion to counting developed, linked to a tendency to ignore the potential result." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Hotspurn looked her in the eye and smiled, just as though he knew that the reckoning had come out in his favour." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If only he weren't so old! Ciri sighed. He's got to beat least thirty...\n\n\"Tourmalines,\" said Hotspurn, his fingers gently touching her ear and earring. \"Pretty, but only tourmalines. I would gladly give you emeralds. They are precious and have a more intense green, which would suit your looks and the colour of your eyes much better.\"\n\n\"Know,\" she drawled, looking at him insolently. \"If it came to it, I'd demand emeralds in advance. Because no doubt it's not just horses you treat functionally, Hotspurn. No doubt after a heady night you'd think recalling my first name was pretentious. Fido the dog, Felix the cat and the maiden: Mary-Jane! '\n\n\"\"Pon my honour, \"he laughed artificially,\"you can chill the most feverish desire, O Snow Queen. '\n\n\"I've been well schooled. '\n\nThe fog had lifted a little, but it was still gloomy. And soporific. Until the languorous mood was brutally interrupted by yelling and the thudding of hooves. Some horsemen rushed out from behind a clump of oaks they had just passed.\n\nThe two of them reacted as quickly and as smoothly as if they had been practicing it for weeks. They spurred and reined their horses around, breaking into a gallop, a furious dash, pressed to their horses' manes, urging their mounts on with shouts and kicks of their heels. Above their heads crossbow bolts whirred, and up came a shouting, a clanging and a thudding of hoofbeat.\n\n\"Into the trees!\" Hotspurn yelled. \"Turn into the forest! Into the undergrowth.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They turned without slowing. Ciri pressed herself harder and lower to her horse's neck, for the branches lashing her as she sped past threatened to knock her from the saddle. She saw a crossbow bolt flake a splinter from the trunk of an alder they were passing. She shouted at her horse to go faster, expecting the thud of a bolt in her back at any moment. Hotspurn, riding just in front of her, suddenly groaned strangely. They cleared a deep hollow and rode recklessly down a precipice into a thorny thicket. Just then Hotspurn slid from his saddle and tumbled into a cranberry bush. The black mare neighed, kicked, thrashed her tail and rushed on. Ciri did not think twice. She dismounted and slapped her horse on the rump. As it ran after the black mare she helped Hotspurn up. The two of them dived into the bushes, into an alder copse, fell over, tumbled down the slope and into some tall ferns at the bottom of the ravine. Moss cushioned their fall.\n\nThe thudding of their pursuers' hooves resounded from the precipice above them. Fortunately they were riding higher up through the forest, after the fleeing horses. It seemed that their disappearance among the ferns had gone undetected.\n\n\"Who are they?\" Ciri hissed, pulling crushed russula mushrooms from under Hotspurn and shaking them from her hair. \"The prefect's men? The Varnhagens? '\n\n\"Common bandits...\" Hotspurn spat out leaves. \"Thugs...\"\n\n\"Offer them an amnesty,\" she said, spitting sand. \"Promise them-\"\n\n\"Be quiet. They'll hear. '\n\n\"Heeeyy! Heeeyyy! Over heeere!\" they heard from above. \"Over on the leeeft! On the leeeft!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Hotspurn?\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"You have blood on your back.\"\n\n\"I know,\" he answered coldly, pulling a wad of linen from his jacket and turning over on his side. \"Shove this under my shirt. By my left shoulder blade...\"\n\n\"Where were you hit? I can't seethe bolt... '\n\n\"It was an arbalest... Iron shot. The head of a horseshoe nail, most probably. Leave it there, don't touch it. It's right by the backbone.\"\n\n\"Dammit. What can I do?\"\n\n\"Keep quiet. They're returning. '\n\nHooves pounded, someone whistled piercingly. Somebody yelled, called, and ordered somebody else to go back. Ciri listened intently.\n\n\"They're riding off, \"she murmured.\"They've given up the chase. They didn't even catch the horses. '\n\n\"Good.\"\n\n\"We won't catch them either. Will you be able to walk? '\n\n\"I won't have to. \"He smiled, showing her a cheap-looking bracelet fastened to his wrist.\"I bought this trinket with the horse. It's magical. The mare has carried it since she was a foal. When I rub it, like this, it's as though I were calling her. As though she were hearing my voice. She'll run here. It'll take sometime, but she'll come for certain. With a bit of fortune your roan will follow her.\"\n\n\"And with a bit of bad luck you'll ride off by yourself? '\n\n\"Falka,\" he said, becoming grave. \"I won't. I'm counting on your help. I'll have to beheld up in the saddle. My toes are already going numb. I may lose consciousness. Listen: this ravine will lead you to a narrow river valley. You'll ride uphill, against the current, northwards. You'll carry me to a place called Tegamo. You'll find somebody there who'll know how to get this iron out of my back without me ending up dead or paralysed. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Is that the nearest village?\"\n\n\"No. Jealousy is nearer, it's in a valley about twenty miles in the opposite direction, downstream. But don't go thereunder any circumstances.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Under no circumstances,\" he repeated, frowning. \"It's not about me, it's about you. Jealousy means death for you.\"\n\n\"I don't understand. '\n\n\"You don't have to. Simply trust me. '\n\n\"You told Giselher-\"\n\n\"Forget Giselher. If you want to live, forget about all of them.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Stay with me. I'll keep my word, Snow Queen. I'll cover you with emeralds... I'll shower you in them... '\n\n\"Indeed, this is a wonderful time for making jokes.\"\n\n\"It's always a good time for jokes. '\n\nHotspurn suddenly seized her, pulled her close and began to undo her blouse. Unceremoniously, but unhurriedly. Ciri pushed him away.\n\n\"Indeed!\" she snapped. \"A wonderful time for that too!\"\n\n\"It's always a good time for that. Especially for me, right now. I told you, it's my spine. There maybe complications tomorrow...\"\n\n\"What are you doing? Oh, damn it...\"\n\nThis time she pushed him away harder. Too powerfully. Hotspurn blanched, bit his lip and groaned in pain.\n\n\"I'm sorry. But if somebody is wounded they ought to lie still. '\n\n\"Being close to you makes me forget the pain.\"\n\n\"Stop that!\"\n\n\"Falka... Be nice to a suffering man.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You'll really suffer if you don't take your hand away. This second!\"\n\n\"Quiet... The thugs are liable to hear us... Your skin is like silk... Don't wriggle. '\n\nOh, dammit, thought Ciri, let it be. In any case, what difference does it make? I'm curious. I can be curious. There's no real feeling in it. I'll treat him functionally and that's that. And forget him unpretentiously.\n\nShe yielded to his touch and the pleasure it brought. She turned her head away, but decided that was exaggeratedly modest and fraudulently prudish; she didn't want to be a goody-goody being seduced. She looked him straight in the eyes, but that seemed too bold and provocative; she didn't want to be like that either. So she simply closed her eyes, hugged him around the neck and helped him with the buttons, because he was having difficulty with them and wasting time. The touch of fingers was joined by the touch of lips. She was close to forgetting about the entire world when Hotspurn suddenly froze stiff. Fora while she lay patiently, remembering that he was wounded and the wound must be bothering him. But it went on a little too long. His saliva was cooling on her nipples.\n\n\"Hey, Hotspurn? Are you asleep?\"\n\nSomething oozed onto her chest and side. She touched it with her fingers. Blood.\n\n\"Hotspurn!\" she shoved him off her. \"Hotspurn, have you died?\"\n\nFoolish question, she thought. I mean, I can see.\n\nI can see he's died.\n\n\"He died with his head on my breast.\" Ciri turned her head away. The glow from the fireplace played red on her disfigured cheek. Perhaps there was a blush there too. Vysogota could not be certain." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The only thing I felt then,\" she added, still turned away, \"was disappointment. Does that shock you?\"\n\n\"No. Actually not.\"\n\n\"I understand. I'm trying not to embellish the story, not correct anything. Not keep anything back. Although occasionally I feel like it, especially that last part. ' She sniffed, rubbing a knuckle into the corner of her eye.\n\n\"I covered him with branches and stones. Any old thing I could find, I confess. It grew dark, I had to sleep there. The bandits were still hanging around, I could hear their shouts and I was certain they weren't ordinary bandits. I just didn't know who they were hunting: me or him. But I had to stay quiet. The whole night. Until dawn. Next to a corpse. Brrr.\"\n\n\"At dawn,\" she began again a moment later, \"the sound of our pursuers had long since faded away and I could set off. I had amount. The magical bracelet I took from Hotspurn's arm really worked. The black mare returned. Now she belonged tome. That was my present. That's the custom on the Isles of Skellige, did you know? A girl has the right to a costly gift from her first lover. So what if mine died before he managed to actually become my lover?\"\n\nThe mare banged her front hooves on the ground, neighed and turned in profile as though ordering Ciri to admire her. Ciri could not suppress a sigh of admiration at the sight of the dolphin-like neck; straight and slender, but powerfully muscled, the small shapely head with its concave forehead, the high withers and her build of delightful proportions.\n\nShe approached cautiously, showing the mare the bracelet on her wrist. The mare gave along drawn-out snort, flattened her twitching ears, but allowed herself to be caught by the bridle and stroked on her velvety nose." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Kelpie,\" Ciri said. \"You're as black and agile as a sea-kelpie. You're as magical as a kelpie. So you'll be'Kelpie\". And I don't care if that's pretentious or not. '\n\nThe mare snorted, stuck her ears up, and shook her silky tail, which reached her hocks. Ciri– favouring a high saddle position– shortened the stirrup leathers and felt the unusual, flat saddle. It had no saddle tree or pommel. She fitted her boot to the stirrup and seized the horse by the mane.\n\n\"Nice and easy, Kelpie.\"\n\nThe saddle, in spite of appearances, was quite comfortable. And for obvious reasons much lighter than standard cavalry saddles.\n\n\"Now,\" Ciri said, patting the mare on her hot neck, \"let's see if you're as fleet as you are beautiful. If you're areal racer or just a hack. What do you say to a twenty-mile gallop, Kelpie? '\n\nHad someone quietly crept up deep in the night to the remote cottage in the midst of the swamp with its sunken, moss-grown thatched roof, had they peered through the slits in the shutters, they would have seen a grey-bearded old man listening to the story told by a teenage girl with green eyes and ashen hair.\n\nThey would have seen the dying glow in the fireplace come alive and grow bright, as though sensing what would be told.\n\nBut that was not possible. No one could have seen it. The cottage of old Vysogota was well hidden among the reeds in the swamp. Ina wilderness permanently covered in mist, where no one dared to venture.\n\n\"The stream's valley was level, and good for riding, so Kelpie ran like the wind. Of course, I wasn't riding uphill but downstream. I remembered that curious name: Jealousy. I recalled what Hotspurn had said to Giselher at the station. I understood why he had warned me about that village. There must have been an ambush in Jealousy. When Giselher made light of the offer of the amnesty and working for the guild, Hotspurn deliberately mentioned the bounty hunter quartered in the village. He knew the Rats would swallow the bait, ride there and fall into the trap. I had to get to Jealousy before them, cutoff their route and warn them. Turn them back. All of them. Or at least just Mistle.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I conclude,\" Vysogota mumbled, \"that you didn't manage to. '\n\n\"At that time,\" she said softly, \"I thought that a large force, armed to the teeth, was waiting in Jealousy. In my wildest dreams it never occurred tome that the trap was a single man...\"\n\nShe was silent, staring into the gloom.\n\n\"Nor did I have any idea what kind of man he was.\"\n\nBirka had once been a wealthy village, charming and picturesquely situated– its yellow thatch and red tiles crowded into a valley with steep, forested sides, which changed colour with the seasons. In autumn, especially, Birka delighted the artistic eye and sensitive heart.\n\nIt was like that until the settlement changed its name. Here is what happened:\n\nA young farmer from a nearby elven colony was madly in love with the miller's daughter from Birka. The miller's prankish daughter ridiculed the elf's wooing and continued to sleep around with neighbours, friends and even relatives. They began to mock the elf and his blind love. The elf– somewhat untypically for his race– exploded with anger and vengeance, exploded horribly. One night, with a strong wind blowing the right way, he started afire and burned Birka down.\n\nThe victims of the fire, now ruined, lost heart. Some roamed the world and others fell into idleness and drunkenness. The money gathered for the rebuilding of the village was regularly defrauded and squandered on drink, and the settlement became a vision of misery and despair: it was a jumble of ghastly, carelessly thrown together shacks beneath the bare and black-charred slope of the valley. Before the fire Birka had been oval-shaped, with a central square; now the few solidly built houses, granaries and a distillery formed something like along main street, which was topped by the façade of The Chimera's Head, built by the efforts of the community and kept by the widow Goulue." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And for seven years no one had used the name \"Birka\". People said \"Flaming Jealousy\", or for short; simply \"Jealousy\".\n\nThe Rats rode down the main street. It was a chill, overcast, gloomy morning.\n\nPeople fled into their homes, hid in their sheds or their wattle-and-daub shacks. Those who had shutters slammed them closed, those who had doors bolted them. Whoever still had vodka drank it to give them courage. The Rats rode at a walk, ostentatiously slowly, stirrup against stirrup. An indifferent contempt was painted on their faces, but their narrowed eyes closely observed the windows, porches and alleyways.\n\n\"One bolt from a crossbow!\" Giselher warned, loudly. \"One clang of a bowstring, and there'll be a bloodbath here! '\n\n\"And the red flame will be let slip!\" Iskra added in her high, melodious soprano. \"Only earth and water will remain!\"\n\nSome of the villagers certainly had crossbows, but no one wanted to find out if the Rats' words were empty.\n\nThe Rats dismounted. They covered the final furlong separating them from The Chimera's Head on foot, side by side, their spurs, adornments and jewellery rhythmically jangling and clinking.\n\nAt the sight of them, three Jealousy residents, soothing the previous day's hangover with beer, bolted from the steps of the inn.\n\n\"Hope he's still here, \"Kayleigh muttered.\"We've taken our time. There was no need for that rest, we should have come right away, even travelled at night...\"\n\n\"Fool.\" Iskra bared her little teeth. \"If we want bards to singsongs about this, it can't be done at night, in the darkness. People must see it! Morning is best, when everybody's still sober, right, Giselher?\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Collaborate on the narrative and advance it.\nTags: fantasy, dark fantasy, chase\nAuthor: Andrzej Sapkowski\nTitle: The Tower of Swallows\nChapter: 4" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And for seven years no one had used the name \"Birka\". People said \"Flaming Jealousy\", or for short; simply \"Jealousy\".\n\nThe Rats rode down the main street. It was a chill, overcast, gloomy morning.\n\nPeople fled into their homes, hid in their sheds or their wattle-and-daub shacks. Those who had shutters slammed them closed, those who had doors bolted them. Whoever still had vodka drank it to give them courage. The Rats rode at a walk, ostentatiously slowly, stirrup against stirrup. An indifferent contempt was painted on their faces, but their narrowed eyes closely observed the windows, porches and alleyways.\n\n\"One bolt from a crossbow!\" Giselher warned, loudly. \"One clang of a bowstring, and there'll be a bloodbath here! '\n\n\"And the red flame will be let slip!\" Iskra added in her high, melodious soprano. \"Only earth and water will remain!\"\n\nSome of the villagers certainly had crossbows, but no one wanted to find out if the Rats' words were empty.\n\nThe Rats dismounted. They covered the final furlong separating them from The Chimera's Head on foot, side by side, their spurs, adornments and jewellery rhythmically jangling and clinking.\n\nAt the sight of them, three Jealousy residents, soothing the previous day's hangover with beer, bolted from the steps of the inn.\n\n\"Hope he's still here, \"Kayleigh muttered.\"We've taken our time. There was no need for that rest, we should have come right away, even travelled at night...\"\n\n\"Fool.\" Iskra bared her little teeth. \"If we want bards to singsongs about this, it can't be done at night, in the darkness. People must see it! Morning is best, when everybody's still sober, right, Giselher?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Giselher did not reply. He picked up a stone, swung and hurled it against the door of the inn.\n\n\"Come out, Bonhart!\"\n\n\"Come out, Bonhart!\" the Rats called in unison. \"Come out, Bonhart!\"\n\nFootsteps could be heard inside. Slow and heavy ones. Mistle felt a shiver crawling over the nape of her neck and her shoulders. Bonhart stood in the doorway.\n\nThe Rats involuntarily took a step back. The heels of their high boots dug into the ground and their hands shot to their sword hilts. The bounty hunter held his sword under one arm. That way he had his hands free; in one he held a peeled boiled egg and in the other a hunk of bread.\n\nHe slowly walked to the balustrade and looked down on them, from high up. He stood in the porch, and was huge. Immense, though he was as gaunt as a ghoul.\n\nHe looked at them, sweeping his watery eyes over each in turn. Then he bit off a morsel of egg and after it apiece of bread.\n\n\"Where's Falka? ' he asked indistinctly. Bits of yolk fell from his moustache and lips.\n\n\"Run, Kelpie! Run, my beauty! Fast as you can!\"\n\nThe black mare neighed loudly, extending her neck in a headlong gallop. A hail of gravel shot out from under her hooves, though it seemed as if they were barely touching the ground.\n\nBonhart stretched lazily, his leather jerkin creaking. He slowly pulled down and adjusted his elk-hide gloves.\n\n\"What could this be?\" he grimaced. \"You want to kill me? And why?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"For Muchomorek, for starters,\" Kayleigh answered.\n\n\"And for our amusement,\" said Iskra.\n\n\"And to get you off our backs,\" Reef threw in.\n\n\"Aaaah,\" Bonhart said slowly. \"So that's what it's about! And if I swear to leave you alone, will you leave me alone?\"\n\n\"No, you grey cur, we will not.\" Mistle smiled charmingly. \"We know you. We know you won't drop it, that you'll trudge along our trail and wait fora chance to stab one of us in the back. Comedown!\"\n\n\"Easy does it.\" Bonhart smiled too, malevolently stretching his mouth wide beneath his grey whiskers. \"We can always find time to cavort around, there's no need to be hasty. First I'll make you an offer, Rats. I'll permit you to choose. '\n\n\"What are you mumbling about, you old fool?\" Kayleigh shouted, crouching. \"Speak clearly!\"\n\nBonhart nodded and scratched a thigh.\n\n\"There's a bounty on you, Rats. A goodly one. And life must goon. '\n\nIskra snorted and opened her eyes wide like a wildcat. Bonhart crossed his arms on his chest, holding his sword in the crook of his arm.\n\n\"That goodly reward,\" he repeated, \"is for you dead, and it's a little larger for taking you alive. But, to tell the truth, it's all the same tome. I have nothing against you personally. I was thinking yesterday that I'd dispatch you all, fora bit of amusement and diversion, but you've come yourselves, saving me the bother. You've won my heart by so doing. Thus I shall let you choose. How do you prefer me to take you: the playful way or the painful way? '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The muscles on Kayleigh's jaw twitched. Mistle leaned over, ready to leap. Giselher caught her arm.\n\n\"He means to enrage us,\" he hissed. \"Let the bastard talk.\"\n\nBonhart snorted.\n\n\"Well?\" he repeated. \"The easy way or the hard way? I advise the first. For you see, the easy way hurts much, much less.\"\n\nThe Rats drew their weapons at the same instant. Giselher made a few crosscuts and struck a swordfighter's pose. Mistle spat copiously on the ground.\n\n\"Come down here, skinny old man,\" she said, apparently calmly. \"Come here, you blackguard. We'll kill you like a grizzled old dog. '\n\n\"So you wish it the hard way,\" Bonhart said, looking somewhere above the rooftops. He slowly drew his sword, throwing down his scabbard, and unhurriedly descended from the porch, his spurs clanking.\n\nThe Rats swiftly spread out across the street. Kayleigh went furthest to the left, almost to the wall of the distillery. Beside him stood Iskra, twisting her thin lips in her usual, dreadful smile. Mistle, Asse and Reef went off to the right. Giselher remained in the centre, staring at the bounty hunter from under narrowed eyelids.\n\n\"Very well, Rats.\" Bonhart looked from side to side, looked up at the sky, and then raised his sword and spat on the blade. \"If we're to cavort, let us cavort. Let the music play! '\n\nThey leaped at each other like wolves, like lightning, silently, with no warning. Blades wailed in the air, filling the narrow street with the plaintive clang of steel. At first all that could be heard was the clang of sword hilts, gasps, groans and quickened breathing." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And then, suddenly and unexpectedly, the Rats began to scream. And die.\n\nReef lurched out of the melee first, his back smacking against a wall, splashing blood on the dirty whitewash. Asse reeled out after him, staggering, curled over and fell on his side, by turns bending and straightening his knees.\n\nBonhart whirled around and leapt like a mad thing, surrounded by the glint and whistle of his blade. The Rats backed away from him, lunging forward, slashing and jumping aside, furiously, fiercely, pitilessly. And ineffectively. Bonhart parried, struck, parried, struck, and attacked, attacked relentlessly, without respite, dictating the tempo of the bout. And the Rats backed away. And died.\n\nIskra, slashed in the neck, fell over in the mud, cowering like a kitten, blood gushing from an artery onto Bonhart's calves and knees as he walked past her. The bounty hunter parried the attacks of Mistle and Giselher with abroad swing, then whirled and carved Kayleigh open with a lightning-fast blow, striking him with the very tip of his sword; from collarbone to hip. Kayleigh released his sword, but did not fall, just curled up and seized his chest and belly in both hands, as blood trickled through his fingers. Bonhart once more whirled away from Giselher's thrust, parried Mistle's attack and smote Kayleigh again, this time turning the side of his head into scarlet pulp. The fair-haired Rat fell, splashing into a puddle of blood mixed with mud.\n\nMistle and Giselher hesitated fora moment. And instead of fleeing, yelled with a single voice, savagely and furiously. And leaped at Bonhart." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And found death.\n\nCiri burst into the settlement and galloped down the main street. Splashes of mud spurted from beneath the mare's hooves.\n\nBonhart shoved Giselher, who was lying by the wall, with his heel. The Rats' leader gave no sign of life. Blood had stopped gushing from his shattered skull.\n\nMistle, on her knees, searched for her sword, groping in the mud and dung with both hands, not seeing that she was kneeling in a quickly spreading puddle of red. Bonhart walked slowly over towards her.\n\n\"Noooooo!\"\n\nThe hunter raised his head.\n\nCiri leaped from her speeding horse, staggered and dropped onto one knee.\n\nBonhart smiled.\n\n\"A she-rat,\" he said. \"The seventh Rat. I'm glad you are here. I needed you to complete the set. '\n\nMistle had found her sword, but was unable to lift it. She wheezed and threw herself at Bonhart's feet. Her trembling fingers dug into the legs of his boots. She opened her mouth to scream, but instead of a cry, a shining crimson stream burst forth. Bonhart kicked her hard, knocking her over in the muck. Mistle, both hands now holding her mutilated belly, managed to raise herself again.\n\n\"Noooo!\" Ciri screamed. \"Miiiistle!\"\n\nThe bounty hunter paid no attention to her yell. He did not even turn his head. He swung his sword and struck vigorously, as though with a scythe. A powerful blow that jerked Mistle up from the ground and flung her over to the wall, as limp as a cloth doll, like a rag smeared with red." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A scream died in Ciri's throat. Her hands trembled as she reached for her sword.\n\n\"Murderer,\" she said, astonished at the strangeness of her voice, at the strangeness of her lips, which had suddenly become horrendously dry.\n\n\"Murderer! Bastard!\"\n\nBonhart observed her curiously, tilting his head slightly.\n\n\"Are you going to die too?\" he asked.\n\nCiri walked towards him, skirting around him in a semi-circle. The sword in his raised and extended hands moved around, deceiving, beguiling.\n\nThe bounty hunter laughed loudly.\n\n\"Die!\" he repeated. \"The she-rat wants to die!\"\n\nHe moved around slowly, standing on the spot, not allowing himself to be lured into the trap of the semi-circle. But it was all the same to Ciri. She was boiling over with ferocity and hatred, trembling with the lust for murder. She wanted to strike that ghastly old man, feel her blade cut into his body. She wanted to see his blood gushing from severed arteries in the final beats of his heart.\n\n\"Well, little Rat.\" Bonhart raised his bloody sword and spat on the blade. \"Before you die, show me what there is in you! Let the music play!\"\n\n\"Truly, no one knows how that they did not slaughter each other during the first clash,\" Nycklar, the son of the coffin maker said, six days later. \"They wanted to slaughter each other, that was clear to see. She to murder him and he her. They flew at each other, came together fora split second and there was a mighty clash of swords. They exchanged mebbes two, mebbes three blows each. There ain't a man what could of counted it, by sight or by hearing. So swiftly did they strike, m'lord, that not a man's eye nor ear could have grasped it. And how they danced and leaped around each other, like two weasels! '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Stefan Skellen, called Tawny Owl, listened attentively, playing with a knout.\n\n\"They leaped apart,\" the boy went on, \"but neither of them was even grazed. The she-rat was as wrathful as the very Devil, and was hissing like a tomcat when someone wants to take his mouse away. But Mr Bonhart was wholly serene.\"\n\n\"Falka,\" Bonhart said, smiling and grinning like a veritable ghoul. \"Truly can you dance and whirl a blade! You have aroused my curiosity, wench. Who are you? Tell me, before you perish.\"\n\nCiri panted. She felt terror beginning to seize her. She understood what she was up against.\n\n\"Tell me who you are, and I'll spare your life. '\n\nShe gripped her hilt more tightly. She had to, had to, get through his parries, slash him, before he closed up. She could not let him deflect her blows, she could not withstand his blows with her sword, she could not risk– even once more– the pain and paralysis which pierced and spread through her elbow and forearm when she parried. She could not waste energy dodging his blows, which were missing her by barely a hair's breadth. Get through his defence, she thought. Right now. In this clash. Or die.\n\n\"You will die, she-rat,\" he said, moving towards her with his sword extended far out in front of him. \"Do you not fear? That is only because you know not what death looks like.\"\n\nKaer Morhen, she thought, as she sprang. Lambert. The comb. The somersault.\n\nShe took three steps and performed a half-pirouette, and when he attacked she ignored his feint, threw a backward somersault, dropped into a nimble crouch and lunged at him, ducking under his blade and twisting her wrist for the cut, fora fearful blow, aided by a powerful twist of her hip. Suddenly she was seized by euphoria; she would feel the blade cutting into his body." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Instead, there was the hard, moaning impact of metal on metal. And a sudden flash in her eyes, a shock and pain in her head. She felt herself falling, felt herself hitting the ground. He parried and twisted, she thought. I'm dying, she thought. Bonhart kicked her in the belly. A second kick, accurately and painfully aimed at her elbow, knocked the sword from her hand. Ciri grabbed her head and felt a dull pain, but there was neither a wound nor blood beneath her fingers. He hit me with his fist, she thought to her horror. I was just punched. Or struck with the pommel of his sword. He didn't kill me. He thrashed me like an unruly brat.\n\nShe opened her eyes.\n\nThe hunter stood over her, terrible and gaunt as a skeleton, towering over her like a diseased, leafless tree, stinking of sweat and blood.\n\nHe seized her by the hair, lifted her violently, forced her to stand, but at once jerked her, knocking the ground from under her feet, and dragged her, wailing like the damned, towards Mistle, who was lying at the foot of the wall.\n\n\"So you don't fear death, do you? \"he snarled, bending her head downwards.\"Then have a look, she-rat. That is death. That is how you die. Look, those are guts. That is blood. And that is shit. That's what's inside us all. '\n\nCiri tensed up, bent over, still gripped by his hand, and dry-retched hoarsely. Mistle was still alive, but her eyes were already misty, glazed, fishlike. Her hand, like a hawk's talons, clenched and unclenched, clawing the mud and dung. Ciri smelled the acrid, penetrating odour of urine. Bonhart cackled." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That is how you'll die, little Rat. In your own piss! '\n\nHe released her hair. Ciri collapsed onto all fours, racked by dry, choking sobs. Mistle was right beside her. Mistle's hand, slender, delicate, soft; Mistle's hand...\n\nIt was no longer moving.\n\n\"He didn't kill me. He tied my hands to the hitching post. '\n\nVysogota sat motionless. He had been sitting like that fora longtime. He was even holding his breath. Ciri continued her tale, but her voice was becoming more and more hushed, more and more unnatural, more and more unpleasant.\n\n\"He ordered the people who had gathered to bring him a sack of salt and a keg of vinegar. And a saw. I didn't know... I couldn't understand what he meant to do... I still didn't know what he was capable of. I was tied... to the hitching post... He called some servants, ordered them to hold me by the hair... and by the eyelids. He showed them how; so I couldn't turn my head away or close my eyes... So I had to watch what he was doing. \"You have to take pains so the goods won't go off,\" he said. \"So they won't decay...\"\"\n\nCiri's voice cracked, stuck dryly in her throat. Vysogota, suddenly realising what he was hearing, felt the saliva well up in his mouth like a flood wave.\n\n\"He cutoff their heads,\" Ciri said dully. \"With a saw. Giselher, Kayleigh, Asse, Reef, Iskra... And Mistle. He sawed off their heads... One after the other. In front of my eyes.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "If someone were to have quietly crept up that night to the remote cottage in the midst of the swamp with its sunken, moss-grown thatched roof, were they to have peered through the slits in the shutters, in the dimly-lit interior they would have seen a grey-bearded old man in a sheepskin coat and an ashen-haired girl with her face disfigured by a scar on her cheek." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They would have seen the girl racked with sobs, choking on tears in the arms of the old man, while he tried to calm her, awkwardly and mechanically stroking and patting her trembling shoulders.\n\nBut it was not possible. No one could have seen it. The cottage was well concealed amidst the marshes. Ina wilderness ever covered in mist, where no one dared to venture." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I have often been asked what made me decide to write my memoirs. Many people seemed interested in the moment my memoirs began, namely what fact, event or incident gave rise to the writing. Formerly, I gave various explanations and often lied, but now, howbeit, I pay homage to the truth. For today, now that my hair has thinned and is going white, I know the truth is a precious seed, while a lie is but contemptible chaff.\n\nAnd the truth is thus: the event which gave rise to everything, to which I owe the first notes, from which my subsequent life's work was formed, was the accidental discovery of paper and pencil among the things that my company and I stole from the Lyrian military convoys. It happened...\n\nDandelion, Half a Century of Poetry" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "... it happened on the fifth day after the September new moon, on the thirtieth day of our expedition, to be precise, reckoning from when we set out from Brokilon, and six days after the Battle on the Bridge.\n\nNow, my dear future reader, I shall go back in time somewhat and describe the events which took place directly following the glorious Battle on the Bridge, which was so fraught with consequences. First though, I shall enlighten the considerable number of readers who know nothing about the Battle on the Bridge, either owing to their having other interests or as a result of their general ignorance. Let me clarify: that battle was waged on the last day of the month of August in the Year of the Great War in Angren, on the bridge connecting the two banks of the River Yaruga in the vicinity of a border post called the Red Timber Port. The sides of this armed conflict were: the Nilfgaardian Army; a corps from Lyria commanded by Queen Meve; and our glorious company. Which consisted of myself, i. e. the undersigned; and also the Witcher, Geralt; the vampire, Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy; the archer, Maria Barring, known as Milva; and Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach, a Nilfgaardian, who liked stubbornly to maintain that he was not such.\n\nIt may also be unclear to you, dear reader, why Queen Meve was in Angren, when it was believed she had perished during the Nilfgaardian incursion into Lyria, Rivia and Aedirn in July, which ended in the total conquest of those lands and their occupation by the imperial army. However, Meve had not perished in battle, as was thought, nor was she captured by Nilfgaard. Banding together a loyal mobile force from the surviving Lyrian Army under her colours and enlisting anyone she could, including mercenaries and common felons, the valiant Meve took up a partisan war against Nilfgaard. And the wildness of Angren suited guerrilla warfare perfectly; now striking from an ambuscade, now lurking in some undergrowth– for there was undergrowth in abundance in Angren. If truth be told, there is nothing worth mentioning in that land aside from undergrowth." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The regiment of Meve– now called the White Queen by her army– swiftly grew in might and acquired such daring that it was able to cross to the Yaruga's left bank, in order, to prowl freely and foment unrest far in the enemy's rear.\n\nNow let us return to our sheep; that is, the Battle on the Bridge. The tactical situation was as follows. Queen Meve's partisans, having rampaged on the Yaruga's left bank, wanted to flee to the Yaruga's right bank, but happened upon the Nilfgaardians, who were rampaging along the Yaruga's right bank and wanted to flee to the Yaruga's left bank. We, from a central position, i. e. the very middle of the River Yaruga, happened upon the above and were surrounded on both sides, from the left and right, by armed men. Having nowhere to flee, we became heroes and covered ourselves in undying glory. The battle, incidentally, was won by the Lyrians, since they achieved what they had intended: i. e. a flight to the right bank. The Nilfgaardians bolted in an unknown direction and in so doing lost the battle. I realise that this all sounds passing confusing and I shall not omit to consult with some military theoretician on the text before publication. For the moment, I am relying on the authority of Cahir aep Ceallach, the only soldier in our company– and Cahir confirmed that winning battles by means of a rapid escape from the battlefield is permissible from the point of view of most military doctrines.\n\nThe contribution of our company to the battle was indisputably meritorious, but also had negative consequences. Milva, who was with child, met with a tragic misadventure. The rest of us were fortunate enough not to suffer any serious injuries. But neither did anyone profit, nor even receive any thanks. The exception being Geralt the Witcher. For Geralt the Witcher, in spite of his repeated, but clearly duplicitously professed, indifference and his frequently declared neutrality, displayed in the battle a fervour as great as it was exaggeratedly spectacular. In other words, he fought in a truly effective way, if not to say: for effect. He was noticed, and Meve, the Queen of Lyria, knighted him with her own hand. It quickly turned out that there was more unpleasantness than benefit from that accolade." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "For I must tell you, gentle reader, that Geralt the Witcher was always a modest, prudent and composed man, with a soul as simple and uncomplicated as the shaft of a halberd. The unexpected promotion and apparent generosity of Queen Meve changed him, however, and had I not known him better, I would have said that it made him conceited. Instead of vanishing from the scene as quickly and anonymously as possible, Geralt became mixed up in the royal retinue, enjoyed his honour, took delight in the grace and favour, and relished his fame.\n\nBut fame and renown were the last things we needed. I shall remind those that do not remember that the very same Geralt the Witcher– now dubbed a knight– was being sought by the intelligence services of all the Four Kingdoms in connection with the matter of the sorcerers'rebellion on the Isle of Thanedd. Attempts were made to charge me– an innocent person, as honest as the day is long– with the crime of espionage. To that one ought to add Milva, who had collaborated with dryads and Scoia'tael, and who was embroiled– as it transpired– in the infamous massacre on the borders of Brokilon Forest. To that one ought to add Cahir aep Ceallach, a Nilfgaardian, a citizen of an enemy nation, whose presence on the wrong side of the battle would have been arduous to explain or justify. It so happened that the only member of our company whose curriculum vitae was not besmirched by political or criminal issues was the vampire. The exposure or identification of anyone of us threatened us all with impalement on sharpened aspen stakes. Each day spent– initially, indeed, pleasantly, safely and with full bellies– in the shade of the Lyrian standards aggrandised that risk." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Geralt, when I emphatically reminded him of that, became somewhat dispirited, but put forward his arguments, of which he had two. Firstly, following her disagreeable accident, Milva still required care and attention, and there were barber-surgeons in the army. Secondly, Queen Meve's army was marching east, towards Caed Dhu. And our company, before it changed direction and became embroiled in the battle described above, had also been heading to Caed Dhu, for we hoped to obtain some information from the druids dwelling thereto aid our search for Ciri. Patrols and lawless gangs prowling in Angren had driven us from our straight road to the aforementioned druids. Now, under the protection of the friendly Lyrian Army, in the grace and favour of Queen Meve, the way to Caed Dhu was wide open; why, it seemed straightforward and safe. I warned the Witcher that it only appeared so, that it was but a semblance and that royal favours are deceptive and inconstant. The Witcher did not want to listen. But it was soon proved who was right. When news got out that a Nilfgaardian punitive expedition was marching towards Angren in great force from the Klamat Pass in the East, the Lyrian Army wasted no time in turning back towards the Mahakam Mountains in the North. As may easily be imagined, that change of direction did not suit Geralt in the slightest; he was hurrying to the druids, not to Mahakam! As naïve as a child, he ran to Queen Meve to obtain an exemption from the army and a royal blessing for his private business. And in that moment queenly love and favour ended, and admiration for the hero of the Battle for the Bridge vanished like so much smoke. The knight, Sir Geralt of Rivia, was reminded in a cool, though resolute, tone of his knightly duties towards the crown. The still ailing Milva, the vampire Regis and the undersigned were instructed to join the column of fugitives and civilians moving behind the convoy. Cahir aep Ceallach, a sturdy youth who in noway resembled a civilian, was given a white and blue sash and conscripted into a so-called free company, which meant a cavalry unit drawn from various bits of rabble picked up by the Lyrian corps on the road. In this way our company was sundered and everything suggested that our expedition was definitively and resoundingly over.\n\nAs you might imagine, dear reader, it was not the end at all, nay, 'twas not even the beginning! Milva, once she had learned of this development, immediately declared herself fit and well. She was first to give the order to withdraw. Cahir flung his royal livery into the bushes and bolted from the free company, and Geralt fled the opulent tents of the select knighthood." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I shall not goon at length about the details, and modesty does not permit me the excessive display of my own– not insignificant– contribution to the undertaking. I merely state the fact: on the night of the fifth of September our entire company clandestinely took leave of Queen Meve's corps. Before parting from the Lyrian Army we stocked up liberally, without asking the quartermaster's permission for so doing. I consider the word \"theft\"– as used by Milva– to be too blunt. For we deserved some sort of payment for our involvement in the memorable Battle of the Bridge. And if not a payment, then at least compensation and reparations for the losses we incurred! Passing over Milva's tragic accident, not counting Geralt and Cahir's cuts and bruises, all our horses were killed or crippled, apart from my faithful Pegasus and the skittish Roach, the Witcher's mare. Thus, in lieu of compensation, we took three full-blooded cavalry steeds and one colt. We also took various bits of tackle, whatever fell into our hands; for the sake of fairness I shall add that we subsequently had to throw half of it away. As Milva said, that can happen when you steal in the dark. The most useful things were taken from the army stores by the vampire Regis, who can see better in the dark than by day. Regis additionally diminished the defensive capabilities of the Lyrian Army by one fat, mousy-grey mule, which he led from the pen so expertly that not a single beast snorted or stamped a hoof. Stories about animals smelling vampires and reacting to their smell in panicked fear cannot thus be believed; unless it refers to certain animals and certain vampires. I shall add that we kept said mousy-grey mule for sometime. Following the loss of the colt, which later bolted in the forests of Riverdell, alarmed by wolves, the mule carried what was left of our belongings. The mule was called Draakul. It was so named by Regis immediately after being stolen and so it remained. Regis was clearly entertained by the name, which no doubt had some amusing significance in the culture and speech of vampires, but which he did not wish to explain to us, claiming it was an untranslatable pun.\n\nIn this way our company found itself on the road again, and the previously lengthy list of folk who did not like us grew even longer. Geralt of Rivia, an unblemished knight, had quit the ranks of the knighthood before his promotion had been confirmed by a single deed, and before the court heraldist had created a coat of arms for him. Cahir aep Ceallach had already managed to fight in and desert from both armies in the great conflict between Nilfgaard and the Nordlings, earning a sentence of death in absentia in both. The rest of us were in no better a situation. After all, a noose is a noose and the importance of why one is to hang is extremely slight; whether for discrediting knightly honour, desertion or christening an army mule \"Draakul\"." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Let it not then astonish you, reader, that we made truly titanic efforts to considerably increase the distance between us and Queen Meve's corps. We rode south with all possible speed towards the Yaruga, intending to cross to the left bank. Not only in order to put the river between us and the queen and her partisans, but because the wildernesses of Riverdell were less dangerous than war-torn Angren; it would have been far more judicious to travel to the druids in Caed Dhu along the left and not the right bank. Paradoxically so– since the left bank of the Yaruga belonged to the hostile Nilfgaardian Empire. The father of the left-bank conception was Geralt the Witcher, who, after leaving the fraternity of swaggering knighthood, had regained the greater part of his reason, ability to think logically, and customary caution. The future was to show that the Witcher's plan was fraught with consequences and determined the fate of the entire expedition. But more about that later.\n\nWhen we reached the Yaruga there were already plenty of Nilfgaardians there who had crossed the reconstructed bridge at the Red Timber Port and were continuing the offensive against Angren; and probably further, against Temeria, Mahakam and the Devil only knows where else the Nilfgaardian general staff was planning to attack. Crossing the river right away was out of the question; we had to hide and wait for the army to move on. So for two whole days we hunkered in the riverside osiers, cultivating rheumatism and feeding the mosquitoes. To make matters worse, the weather soon declined: it drizzled, was windy as hell, and our teeth were chattering from the cold. I do not recall such a cold September among the many Septembers engraved in my memory. It was then, my dear reader, having found paper and pencil among the supplies borrowed from the Lyrian convoys, to kill time and forget about our discomforts, that I began to record and immortalise some of our adventures." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The foul rainy weather and enforced inactivity spoiled our mood and prompted various dark thoughts. Particularly in the Witcher. Geralt had long since begun counting the days separating him from Ciri; and each day we were not on the road pushed him– in his opinion– further and further away from the girl. Now, in the wet osiers, in the cold and rain, the Witcher became gloomier and more evil with each passing hour. I also noticed he was limping heavily, and when he thought no one could see or hear he swore and hissed from the pain. For you ought to know, dear reader, that Geralt had suffered broken bones during the sorcerers' rebellion on the Isle of Thanedd. The fractures had knitted and been healed thanks to the magical efforts of the dryads of Brokilon Forest, but apparently had not stopped troubling him. Thus the Witcher was suffering, so to say, from both bodily and spiritual pain. It made him absolutely livid, so we steered clear of him.\n\nAnd once again he was persecuted by dreams. On the morning of the ninth of September, while he was sleeping off his guard duty, he terrified us all by springing up with a cry and drawing his sword. It looked as though he were in a frenzy, but fortunately it subsided at once.\n\nHe went away, but was soon to return with a gloomy demeanour. He announced, in so many words, that he was breaking up the company with immediate effect and continuing on his way alone, since awful things were occurring somewhere, time was running out, it was becoming dangerous, and he didn't want to put anyone at risk or take responsibility for anyone. He talked and argued so tediously and unconvincingly that no one wanted to discuss it with him. Even the usually eloquent vampire dismissed him with a shrug, Milva by spitting, and Cahir with the terse reminder that he was responsible for himself, and that as far as risks went he did not carry a sword to give his belt ballast. Afterwards, however, everybody fell silent and stared knowingly at the undersigned, no doubt expecting me to avail myself of the opportunity and go back home. I probably do not have to say that they were most disappointed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The incident persuaded us, nonetheless, to discard our lethargy and drove us to a bold deed; that of crossing the Yaruga." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I confess that the undertaking aroused my anxiety, for the plan was to swim across at night; to quote Milva and Cahir, \"hanging onto the horses\" tails'. Even if it had been a metaphor– and I suspect it was not– I somehow could not imagine it for myself or my steed, Pegasus, upon whose tail I would have to depend during the crossing. Swimming, to put it mildly, was– and is– not one of my strong points. Had Mother Nature wanted me to swim, in the act of creation and the process of evolution she would have equipped me with webbed fingers. And the same applied to Pegasus.\n\nMy fears turned out to be in vain, at least with regard to swimming behind a horse's tail. For we crossed using a different method. Who knows if it was not even more insane? We crossed in a truly impudent manner; beneath the reconstructed bridge at the Red Timber Port, under the very noses of the Nilfgaardian guard and patrols. The undertaking, it turned out, only appeared to be a demented effrontery and mortal gamble, and in reality passed off without a hitch. After the frontline units had crossed the bridge, transport after transport, vehicle after vehicle, flock after flock wandered this way and that. There were also crowds of various kinds, including civilian flotsam and jetsam, among which our company did not standout at all, nor were we conspicuous. Thus on the tenth day of September we all crossed to the left bank of the Yaruga, only once being hailed by the guard, at whom Cahir, wrinkling his brow imperiously, shouted back something menacing about imperial service, backing up his words with the classically military and ever effective'for fuck's sake\" . Before anyone had time to grow curious about us, we were already on the left bank of the Yaruga and deep in the Riverdell forest; for there was only a single highway there, heading south, and neither the direction nor the profusion of Nilfgaardians hanging around it suited us." }, { "from": "human", "value": "At our first camp in the forests of Riverdell I was also visited at night by a strange dream." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Unlike Geralt's it was not about Ciri, but the sorceress Yennefer. The dream was curious, unsettling; Yennefer, in black and white as usual, was hovering in the air above a huge, grim mountain castle, and from below other sorceresses were shaking their fists and hurling abuse at her. Yennefer swirled the long sleeves of her dress and flew away, like a black albatross, over the boundless sea, straight into the rising sun. From that moment the dream transformed into a nightmare. On awaking the details vanished from my memory, and there remained only vague, not very sensible, images, but they were ghastly: of torture, screaming, pain, fear and death... Ina word: horror.\n\nI did not share that dream with Geralt. Not a word did I breathe of it. And rightly so, as it later turned out.\n\n\"She was called Yennefer! Yennefer of Vengerberg. And she was a most famous sorceress! May I not live to seethe dawn if I lie!\"\n\nTriss Merigold shuddered and turned, trying to see through the crowd and blue smoke densely filling the tavern's main chamber. She finally rose from the table, somewhat regretfully abandoning a fillet of sole in anchovy butter, a local speciality and a genuine delicacy. She was not roaming the taverns and inns of Bremervoord to eat delicacies, however, but to obtain information. Apart from that, she had to watch her figure.\n\nThe crowd of people she had to squeeze among was already dense and tight; in Bremervoord people loved stories and passed up no opportunity to listen to new ones. And the sailors who visited therein great numbers never disappointed; they always had afresh new repertoire of sea tales. Naturally, the vast majority were invented, but that didn't make the slightest difference. A tale is a tale. And has its own rules." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The woman who was telling the story– and who had mentioned Yennefer– was a fisherwoman from the Isles of Skellige; stout, broad-shouldered, with close-cropped hair, and– like her four companions– dressed in a waistcoat of narwhal skin, worn to a sheen.\n\n\"It were the nineteenth day of the month of August, in the morning after the second night of the full moon,\" the islander began, raising a mug of ale to her lips. Her hand, Triss noticed, was the colour of old brick, and her exposed, knotty arm must easily have measured twenty inches in girth. Triss's waist measured twenty-two.\n\n\"At the crack of dawn,\" the fisherwoman continued, her eyes sweeping over her audience's faces,\"our smack put to sea, into the sound \"twixt An Skellig and Spikeroog, to the oyster grounds, where we usually set our salmon gillnets. We made great haste, fora storm were nigh, the heavens darkening cruelly from the West. We'ad to pluck the salmon from the nets quick, for otherwise, as you knows yoursel\", when at last, after a storm, you can venture forth to sea, only rotten, chewed heads remain in the nets, and all the catch is for naught.\"\n\nHer audience, residents of Bremervoord and Cidaris in the main, mostly living from the sea and dependent on it for their existence, nodded and murmured their understanding. Triss usually saw salmon in the form of pink slices, but also nodded and murmured, because she didn't want to standout. She was there incognito, on a secret mission.\n\n\"We sail into port...\" the fisherwoman went on, draining her mug and indicating that one of the listeners could buy her another. \"We sail in and area-emptyin\" the nets and blow me if Gudrun, Sturla's daughter, doesn't start yelling at the top of her voice! And pointing to starboard! We look, and summat's flying through the air, and it ain't a bird! My heart stopped fora tick, for at once I'm thinking it's a wyvern or young gryphon, they sometimes flyover Spikeroog, true enough, but generally in the winter, usually with a west wind a-blowing. But meanwhile that black thing, if it don't splash into the water! And a wave shoves it! Direckly into our nets. It gets tangled up in the net and splashes around in the water like a seal, then all of us– we were eight fishwives in all– catch the net and heave it onboard! And do our gobs fall open! Blow me if it ain't a woman! Ina black gown, as black as any crow. She's all caught up in the net,\"twixt two salmon, of which one– as I live and breathe– must of weighed almost three stone! '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "The fisherwoman from Skellige blew the froth from her refilled mug and took a deep draught." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "None of the listeners commented or expressed any disbelief, although not even the oldest among them could remember a salmon of such impressive weight being landed.\n\n\"The black-haired woman in the net,\" the islander continued, \"is coughing, spitting seawater and thrashing about, and Gudrun, who's expecting, is frantically yelling'It's a kelpie! A kelpie! A havfrue!\" But any fool could see it weren't no kelpie, fora kelpie would of ripped up the net long since; and besides, what monster would let itself be a-lugged onto a fishing smack? And it ain't no havfrue neither, for it don't \"ave a fishy tail, and a mermaid always'as one! And it fell into the sea from the sky, didn't it, and who's seen a kelpie or havfrue flying in the sky? But Skadi, Una's daughter, she's always hasty, so she starts yelling'Kelpie!\" too and ups and grabs the gaff! And aims at the net with it! And there's a blue flash from the net and Skadi squeals! The gaff goes left, she goes right, strike me down if I'm lying, she throws three somersets and bangs arse-down on the deck! Ha, turns out a sorceress in a net's worse than a jellyfish, a scorpena or a numbing eel! And on top o\" that the witch starts cursing something \"orrible! And the net starts a-hissing, a-stinking and a-steaming, as she works'er magic inside! We sees it won't be no picnic...\"\n\nThe islander drained her mug and wasted no time in reaching for the next one.\n\n\"Ain't no picnic– \"she belched loudly, and wiped her nose and mouth\" – to catch a witch in a net! We can feel– as I live and breathe– that the magic's making the smack roll harder. No time to'ang around! Britta, Karen's daughter, presses the net with'er foot, and I grabs an oar and whack! Whack!! Whack!!! '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "The ale splashed high and spilled over the table, and several mugs fell on the floor." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The listeners wiped their cheeks and brows, but none of them uttered a word of complaint or admonishment. A tale is a tale. And has its own rules.\n\n\"The witch understood who she were up agin\". \"The fisherwoman stuck out her ample bosom and gazed around defiantly.\"And that you can't fool around with the fishwives of Skellige! She said she were surrenderin\" to us willin'like, and vowed not to cast any charms or incantations. And gave'er name as Yennefer of Vengerberg. '\n\nHer listeners murmured. Barely two months had passed since the events on the Isle of Thanedd, and the names of the traitors bribed by Nilfgaard were remembered. The name of the celebrated Yennefer too.\n\n\"We takes'er, \"the fisherwoman continued,\"to jarl Crach an Craite in Kaer Trolde on Ard Skellig. Never seen her after that. The jarl was away on an expedition, but they said when he returned he first received the witch harshly, but later treated her polite and courteous. Hmm... And I was just waiting to see what kind of surprise the sorceress would conjure up for me for whacking her with an oar. I thought she'd badmouth me before the jarl. But no. Never said a word, never complained, I know that. Honrable witch. Afterwards, when she killed herself I even felt sorry for'er... '\n\n\"Yennefer's dead? \"Triss screamed, so overwhelmed she forgot about the importance of remaining incognito and the secrecy of her mission.\"Yennefer of Vengerberg's dead?\"\n\n\"Aye, she's dead, \"the fisherwoman said, finishing her beer.\"Dead as a doornail. Killed \"erself with her own charms, making magic spells. Didn't \"appen long since, last day of August, just'fore the new moon. But that's quite another story...\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Dandelion!" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "You're asleep in the saddle! '\n\n\"I'm not asleep. I'm thinking creatively!\"\n\nSo we rode, dear reader, through the forests of Riverdell, heading East, towards Caed Dhu, searching for the druids who were meant to help us to find Ciri. I shall tell you how it went. Before that, though, for the sake of historical truth, I shall write a little about our company and each of its members.\n\nThe vampire Regis was more than four hundred years old. If he was not lying, it meant he was the oldest of us all. Of course, it might have been poppycock, but who could check? I preferred to suppose that our vampire was being truthful, for he had also declared that he had given up drinking people's blood irrevocably and for good. Owing to that declaration we fell asleep more calmly in our camps. I noticed that in the beginning, Milva and Cahir would fearfully and anxiously feel their necks after awaking, but they quickly stopped doing that. The vampire Regis was– or seemed to be– an utterly honourable vampire. If he said he would not drink their blood, then he would not.\n\nHe did possess flaws, however, which did not result at all from his vampiric nature. Regis was an intellectual, and liked to demonstrate it. He had the annoying habit of giving statements and truths with the tone and expression of a prophet, to which we swiftly stopped reacting, since the statements he gave were either genuine truths, or sounded like the truth, or could not be proved, which, in essence, amounted to the same thing. But what was truly unbearable was Regis's habit of answering a question before the person asking had finished formulating it– why, occasionally even before the questioner had begun formulating it. I always took that seeming expression of supposed high intelligence more as an expression of boorishness and arrogance; and those qualities, which suit university or courtly circles, are hard to bear in a companion with whom one travels stirrup by stirrup, day in day out, and who sleeps under the same blanket at night. Serious squabbles did not, however, occur, owing to Milva. Unlike Geralt and Cahir, whose inborn opportunism evidently allowed them to adapt to the vampire's mannerism, and even led them to compete with him in that regard, the archer Milva preferred simple and unpretentious solutions. When Regis, for the third time, gave her an answer to a question as she was halfway through asking, she cursed him roundly, using words and expressions capable of making even a hoary mercenary blush in embarrassment. Surprisingly enough it worked; the vampire lost his annoying mannerism in the blink of an eye. The conclusion thus being that the most effective defence against intellectual domination is roundly to affront the domineering intellectual." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Milva, it seems tome, had been greatly affected by her tragic accident– and loss. I write \"it seems to me\" for I am aware that being a man I cannot imagine what such a loss means fora woman. Though I am a poet and a man of the quill, even my educated and trained imagination betrays me here and I can do nothing.\n\nThe archer swiftly regained her physical fitness, which could not be said for her mental state. It often happened that she would not utter a word throughout the whole day, from dawn to dusk. She would disappear and remain isolated, which worried everyone somewhat. Until finally a crisis occurred. Milva released the tension like a dryad or a she-elf; violently, impulsively and not very comprehensibly. One morning, in front of our eyes, she drew a knife and without a word cutoff her plait just above her shoulders. \"It doesn't befit me, for I'm not a maiden,\" she said, seeing our jaws hanging open. \"But nor am Ia widow,\" she added, \"so that's the end of my mourning. ' From that moment on she washer old self; brusque, biting, mouthy and inclined to use unparliamentary language. From which we happily concluded that she had come through the crisis.\n\nThe third– and no less curious– member of the company was the Nilfgaardian, who kept trying to prove he was not one. He was called, so he claimed, Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach...\n\n\"Cahir Mawr Dyffryn, son of Ceallach,\" Dandelion declared, pointing his pencil at the Nilfgaardian, \"I have reconciled myself with many things which I don't like, and actually can't stand, in this honourable company. But not with everything! I can't bear it when people look over my shoulder when I'm writing! And I don't intend to put up with it! '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Nilfgaardian moved away from the poet, and after a moment's thought seized his saddle, sheepskin and blanket and dragged them over to Milva, who was dozing.\n\n\"I apologise,\" he said. \"Forgive my obtrusiveness, Dandelion. I glanced involuntarily, out of pure curiosity. I thought you were creating a map or drawing up some tallies-\"\n\n\"I'm not a bookkeeper! \"the poet said, losing his temper and standing up.\"Nor am Ia cartographer! But even if I were, it doesn't justify taking a sly look at my notes!\"\n\n\"I have apologised,\" Cahir repeated dryly, making his bed in the new place. \"I have reconciled myself with and become accustomed to many things in this honourable company. But I'm still accustomed to apologising only once. '\n\n\"Indeed,\" the Witcher joined in, totally unexpectedly– for everyone, himself included– taking the side of the young Nilfgaardian. \"You've become devilishly touchy, Dandelion. One cannot fail to notice that it is somehow connected to the paper, which you have recently begun to deface with a bit of lead while we camp. '\n\n\"It's true, \"Regis agreed, putting more birch branches on the campfire.\"Our minstrel has become touchy, not to say secretive, discreet and loving of solitude recently. Oh, no, having witnesses when performing his natural needs doesn't bother him at all which, in our situation, one cannot indeed be astonished by. His shameful secrecy and oversensitivity to being watched extends solely to his scribbled notes. Is, perhaps, a poem being written in our presence? A rhapsody? An epic? A romance? A canzone?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No,\" Geralt retorted, shifting towards the fire and muffling his back with a blanket. \"I know him. It can't be verse, because he's not cursing, mumbling or counting the syllables on his fingers. He's writing in silence, so it must be prose. '\n\n\"Prose!\" The vampire flashed his pointed fangs– which he usually tried not to do. \"A novel, perhaps? Oran essay? Amorality play? Dammit, Dandelion! Don't torture us so! Reveal what you are writing. '\n\n\"My memoirs.\"\n\n\"Your what?\"\n\n\"From these notes,\" Dandelion displayed a tube stuffed with paper, \"will arise the work of my life. My memoirs, bearing the title Fifty Years of Poetry.\"\n\n\"Nonsensical title,\" Cahir declared dryly. \"Poetry has no age.\"\n\n\"And if one concedes that it does,\" added the vampire, \"it is decidedly older than that.\"\n\n\"You don't understand. The title means that the author of the work has spent fifty years, no more and no less, in the service of Lady Poetry. '\n\n\"In that case, it's even more nonsensical, \"said the Witcher.\"You aren't even forty yet. Your writing ability was thrashed into you in the temple elementary school, at the age of eight. Even if we allow that you were writing rhymes in school, you've not been serving Lady Poetry for longer than thirty years. But as I well know, for you've often told me about it, you only began seriously rhyming and composing melodies when you were nineteen, inspired by your love for Countess de Stael. That makes it the nineteenth year of your service, Dandelion. So how did you come up with this titular fifty years? Is it meant to be some kind of metaphor?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I,\" the bard said, puffing up, \"trace broad horizons with my thought. I describe the present, but I pass into the future. I intend to publish this mighty work in some twenty or thirty years, and then no one will be able to cast doubt on the titular reckoning.\"\n\n\"Ha. Now I get it. If anything astonishes me, it's the foresight. You aren't usually bothered about tomorrow.\"\n\n\"Tomorrow still doesn't bother me much, \"the poet declared with superiority.\"I'm thinking about posterity. About eternity!\"\n\n\"From the point of view of posterity,\" Regis observed, \"it isn't too ethical a beginning to write now, in advance. On the basis of the title, posterity has the right to expect a work written from a genuine fifty-year perspective, by a person with a genuine fifty-year store of knowledge and experience-'\n\n\"A person whose experience amounts to half a century,\" Dandelion interrupted unceremoniously, \"must be– from the very nature of the case– a seventy-year-old, decayed old gimmer with his brain eroded by the hag of sclerosis. Someone like that should be sitting on the veranda breaking wind, not dictating their memoirs, for people would only laugh. I won't make that error. I'll write my biography at the height of my creative powers. Later, just before publication, I shall merely make cosmetic corrections.\"\n\n\"It does have its merits,\" Geralt said as he massaged and cautiously flexed his painful knee. \"Particularly for us. For though without doubt we appear in his work, though without doubt he has mauled us, in half a century we won't be especially concerned about it. '\n\n\"What's half a century? \"the vampire smiled.\"A moment, a fleeting instant... Aha, Dandelion, a minor observation. In my opinion, Half a Century of Poetry sounds better than Fifty Years. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I don't deny it, \"said the troubadour, crouching over a page and scribbling on it with a pencil.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Thanks, Regis. Something constructive at last. Does anyone else have any comments? '\n\n\"I do,\" Milva began unexpectedly, poking her head out from her blanket. \"Why are you goggling at me? Because I'm unlettered? But I'm not stupid! We're on an expedition, we're going to rescue Ciri, we're travelling through enemy lands with sword in hand. This rubbish of Dandelion's might fall into enemy mitts. And we know the poetaster, it's no secret he's a gasbag, a sensation-seeker as well as a gossip. So let him have a care with what he's scrawling. So we don't accidentally get hung because of his scribblings.\"\n\n\"You're exaggerating, Milva, ' the vampire said gently.\n\n\"Greatly, I'd say, ' Dandelion continued.\n\n\"I'd say the same, \"Cahir added carelessly.\"I don't know what it's like with the Nordlings, but in the Empire, possession of a manuscript isn't considered a crimen, nor is literary activity punishable.\"\n\nGeralt swept his eyes over him and snapped the stick he was playing with.\n\n\"But libraries are torched in cities captured by that cultured nation,\" he said in an unaggressive tone, but with a distinct sneer. \"Never mind, though. Maria, I agree that you're exaggerating. Dandelion's scribblings, as usual, don't have any importance. Not regarding our safety. '\n\n\"Oh, sure!\" said the archer, getting hot under the collar and sitting up. \"I know what I know! When the royal bailiff were taking a census round our way, my stepfather took to his heels, bolted into the forest and stayed therefor a fortnight without poking his nose out. Wherever there's parchment there's a judgement, he used to say, and whoever's name is captured in ink today is broke on the wheel tomorrow. And he was right, the rotten bastard! I hope that whoreson's sizzling in hell!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Milva threw off her blanket and– now quite wide awake– moved closer to the fire. It looked, Geralt observed, like another long fireside conversation was in the offing.\n\n\"You weren't fond of your stepfather, I deduce, \"Dandelion observed after a moment's silence.\n\n\"I weren't, \"Milva said, audibly grinding her teeth.\"For he were a rotten bastard. He made advances when mother wasn't looking, interfered with me. He wouldn't listen, so finally I couldn't stand it no more and took a rake to him, and when he fell over I gave him a kick or two, in the ribs and the privates. Two days later he were lying and spitting blood... So I decided to flee into the world, without waiting to see if he got better. Later I heard rumours he'd died, and mother soon after him... Oi, Dandelion! Are you writing that down? Don't you dare! Don't you dare, hear me? '\n\nIt was strange that Milva was trekking with us, and the fact that a vampire was accompanying us was astonishing. Nonetheless, strangest– if not simply incomprehensible– were the motives of Cahir, who had suddenly changed from an enemy into– if not a friend– then certainly anally. The youngster had proved that at the Battle on the Bridge, unhesitatingly standing with sword in hand beside the Witcher against his countrymen. By this deed he gained our appreciation and conclusively dispelled our suspicions. In writing \"our\", I have in mind myself, the vampire and the archer. For Geralt, though he had fought shoulder to shoulder with Cahir, though they had looked death in the eye side by side, was still mistrustful of the Nilfgaardian and did not like him. He did, admittedly, try to hide his resentment, but he was– as I believe I have already mentioned– as simple as a spear shaft, incapable of pretending, and his aversion crept out at every turn, like an eel from a rotten trap. The reason was clear: it was Ciri." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It had been my lotto be on the Isle of Thanedd that July new moon when the bloody battle took place between sorcerers loyal to the kings and traitors incited by Nilfgaard. The traitors were helped by the Squirrels– rebellious elves– and Cahir, son of Ceallach. Cahir had been on Thanedd, he had been sent thereon a special mission; he was to have seized and abducted Ciri. Ciri wounded him defending herself; Cahir had a scar on his left hand, at the sight of which my mouth always went dry. It must have been hellishly painful and he still could not bend two of his fingers.\n\nAnd after all that, we rescued him on the Ribbon, when his own countrymen were carrying him away to cruel torture in fetters. Why, I ask? For what misdeeds did they want to execute him? Or was it only for the defeat on Thanedd? Cahir is not garrulous, but I have a sensitive ear even for monosyllables. The lad is not yet thirty, but looks as though he were a high-ranking officer in the Nilfgaardian Army. Since he speaks the Common Speech impeccably, which is seldom found among Nilfgaardians, I think I know what kind of army Cahir served in and why he was promoted so quickly. And why he was sent on such strange missions. Including foreign ones.\n\nFor Cahir was the man who had tried once before to abduct Ciri. Almost four years before, during the massacre of Cintra. The destiny guiding the girl's fate had made itself felt for the first time. By coincidence I talked about this with Geralt on the third day after crossing the Yaruga, ten days before the Equinox, as we were negotiating the forests of Riverdell. That conversation, although very short, was fraught with unpleasant and worrying overtones. And at that moment there was writ on the face and in the eyes of the Witcher a harbinger of the horror which was to explode during the Equinox, after we were joined by the fair-haired Angouême." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Witcher wasn't looking at Dandelion. He wasn't looking ahead. He was looking at Roach's mane.\n\n\"Just before her death,\" he began, \"Calanthe forced an oath on several of her knights. They were not to let Ciri fall into Nilfgaardian hands. During the flight, those knights were killed, and Ciri was left alone amidst corpses and conflagration, in the web of streets of the burning city. She would not have got out alive, that is beyond doubt. But he found her. Cahir. He carried her out of the pit of fire and death. He rescued her. Heroically! Nobly!\"\n\nDandelion reined Pegasus back somewhat. They were riding at the rear, and Regis, Milva and Cahir were about a quarter of a furlong ahead, but the poet didn't want a single word of their conversation to reach the ears of their companions.\n\n\"The problem was,\" the Witcher continued, \"that our Cahir was only acting nobly by order. He was noble as a cormorant is: he did not swallow the fish because he had a ring on his throat. He was meant to take the fish to his master. He failed, so the master was angry at the cormorant! The cormorant is now out of favour! Is that why he's searching for friendship in the company offish? What do you think, Dandelion? '\n\nThe troubadour ducked in the saddle to avoid an overhanging linden branch. The branch already bore completely yellow leaves. \"But he saved her life, you said so yourself. Thanks to him Ciri left Cintra in one piece.\"\n\n\"And she cried out in the night, seeing him in her dreams.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But he did save her. Stop dwelling on it, Geralt. Too much has changed, why, it changes everyday. Brooding achieves nothing, save distress, which clearly does you no good. He rescued Ciri. That fact was, is, and will remain a fact.\"\n\nGeralt finally tore his gaze away from the horse's mane and raised his head. Dandelion glanced at his face and swiftly looked away.\n\n\"The fact remains a fact,\" the Witcher repeated in an angry, metallic voice. \"Oh, yes! He yelled that fact in my face on Thanedd, and his voice stuck in his throat from terror, for he was staring at my sword edge. That fact and that cry were supposed to be the arguments which would stop me murdering him. Well, it did and I don't think it can now be undone. Which is a pity. Fora chain ought to have been begun then, on Thanedd. Along chain of death, a chain of revenge, about which tales would still be told after a hundred years have passed. Tales which people will be afraid to listen to after dark. Do you understand that, Dandelion? '\n\n\"Not really.\"\n\n\"Then to hell with you.\"\n\nThat conversation was hideous and the Witcher's expression had been hideous too. Oh, I did not like it when he was in a mood such as that and went off on such a tack.\n\nI must, though, confess that the vivid comparison with the cormorant had played its role. I began to worry. The fish in its beak, taken to be clubbed, gutted and fried! A truly nice analogy, joyful prospects...\n\nHowever, good sense belied such fears. After all, if we were to continue with the fishy metaphors, then who were we? Small fry. Small, bony fry. In exchange for such a meagre haul the cormorant Cahir could not count on imperial grace. In any case, he was far from the pike he wanted to bethought of as. He was small fry, just like us. When the war was raking both the earth and people's fates like an iron harrow, who was paying the slightest attention to small fry?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I am certain that no one in Nilfgaard remembers Cahir now.\n\nVattier de Rideaux, chief of the Nilfgaardian military intelligence, listened to the imperial reprimand.\n\n\"So,\" Emhyr var Emreis continued scathingly, \"an institution which devours three times as much of the state budget as education, culture and the arts taken together is incapable of finding one man. This man simply disappears, goes into hiding, although I spend astronomical sums on an institution from which nothing has any right to remain concealed! One man, guilty of treason, blatantly mocks an institution to which I have given so many privileges and funds as would give even innocent men sleepless nights. Oh, trust me, Vattier, when the council next speaks of trimming the funds for clandestine services, I shall prick up my ears. You may trust that!\"\n\n\"Your Imperial Majesty,\" Vattier de Rideaux croaked, \"will make, I have no doubt, the right decision, after weighing up all the pros and cons. Both the failures and the successes of the intelligence service. Your Majesty may also be certain that the traitor, Cahir aep Ceallach, will not escape punishment. I have taken steps-\"\n\n\"I do not pay you for undertakings, but for results. And those are miserable, Vattier, miserable! What about Vilgefortz? Where the hell is Cirilla? What are you mumbling now? Louder!\"\n\n\"I think Your Highness ought towed the girl we are holding in Darn Rowan. We need that marriage, we need the legality of Cintra's sovereign fiefdom to subdue the Isles of Skellige and the rebels in Attre, Strept, Mag Turga and the Slopes. We need a general amnesty, peace at the rear and along supply lines... We need the neutrality of Esterad Thyssen of Kovir. '" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Take on the role of the writer's aide and proceed with the narrative.\nTags: fantasy, dark fantasy, chase\nAuthor: Andrzej Sapkowski\nTitle: The Tower of Swallows\nChapter: 6" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I am certain that no one in Nilfgaard remembers Cahir now.\n\nVattier de Rideaux, chief of the Nilfgaardian military intelligence, listened to the imperial reprimand.\n\n\"So,\" Emhyr var Emreis continued scathingly, \"an institution which devours three times as much of the state budget as education, culture and the arts taken together is incapable of finding one man. This man simply disappears, goes into hiding, although I spend astronomical sums on an institution from which nothing has any right to remain concealed! One man, guilty of treason, blatantly mocks an institution to which I have given so many privileges and funds as would give even innocent men sleepless nights. Oh, trust me, Vattier, when the council next speaks of trimming the funds for clandestine services, I shall prick up my ears. You may trust that!\"\n\n\"Your Imperial Majesty,\" Vattier de Rideaux croaked, \"will make, I have no doubt, the right decision, after weighing up all the pros and cons. Both the failures and the successes of the intelligence service. Your Majesty may also be certain that the traitor, Cahir aep Ceallach, will not escape punishment. I have taken steps-\"\n\n\"I do not pay you for undertakings, but for results. And those are miserable, Vattier, miserable! What about Vilgefortz? Where the hell is Cirilla? What are you mumbling now? Louder!\"\n\n\"I think Your Highness ought towed the girl we are holding in Darn Rowan. We need that marriage, we need the legality of Cintra's sovereign fiefdom to subdue the Isles of Skellige and the rebels in Attre, Strept, Mag Turga and the Slopes. We need a general amnesty, peace at the rear and along supply lines... We need the neutrality of Esterad Thyssen of Kovir. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I know. But the girl from Darn Rowan is not Ciri. I cannot wed her.\"\n\n\"May Your Imperial Majesty forgive me, but does it matter if she is not authentic? The political situation requires your nuptials. Urgently. The bride will be in a veil. And when we finally find the genuine Cirilla, the girls will simply be... exchanged.\"\n\n\"Have you taken leave of your senses, Vattier?\"\n\n\"The fake one was only shown briefly at court. No one has seen the real girl in Cintra for four years, and rumour has it she spent more time in Skellige than in Cintra. I guarantee that no one will see through the deceit.\"\n\n\"No!\"\n\n\"Your Imperial-\"\n\n\"No, Vattier! Find the real Ciri! Pull your finger out. Find Ciri. Find Cahir. And Vilgefortz. Vilgefortz in particular. For he has Ciri, I'm certain of it'\n\n\"Your Imperial Highness...\"\n\n\"Go on, Vattier! Speak!\"\n\n\"At onetime I suspected the so-called Vilgefortz case was nothing but a provocation. That the sorcerer had been murdered or is being imprisoned, and the spectacular and clamorous hunt allows Dijkstra to slander us and to justify his brutal repression.\"\n\n\"I've had similar suspicions. '\n\n\"Ah, you have? This was not made public in Redania, but my agents inform me that Dijkstra found one of Vilgefortz's hideouts, and within in it evidence of the sorcerer's bestial experiments on people. To be precise, on human foetuses... and women with child. If Vilgefortz had Cirilla, I fear that continued searches for her-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Silence, dammit!\"\n\n\"On the other hand,\" Vattier de Rideaux quickly added, looking at the emperor's furious face,\"all of that maybe disinformation. Intended to denigrate the sorcerer. That would be Dijkstra's style.\"\n\n\"You're paid to find Vilgefortz and take Ciri from him, for God's sake! Not to digress and make conjectures! Where is Tawny Owl? Still in Geso? Why? He allegedly'left no stone unturned and looked into every hole in the ground\". Allegedly the girl'is not there and never was\". Apparently'the astrologer was either mistaken or is lying\". Those are all quotations from his reports. What is he still doing there?\"\n\n\"Coroner Skellen, I dare observe, undertakes none too transparent measures... He is recruiting for his unit, the one Your Highness ordered him to setup, in Fort Rocayne, Maecht, where he has established his base. That unit, I take the liberty to add, is an extremely doubtful bunch. But it is odd that towards the end of August, Lord Skellen hired a notorious assassin-\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"He engaged a hired thug, with instructions to eliminate a criminal gang marauding around Geso. A commendable act, but is it a task for the imperial coroner?\"\n\n\"Is invidia speaking through you, Vattier, by any chance? And does it not give your reports colour and fervour?\"\n\n\"I merely state the facts, Your Highness.\"\n\n\"I want–\" the emperor stood up abruptly\"– to seethe facts. I'm tired of hearing about them. '\n\nIt was an extremely hard day. Vattier de Rideaux was weary. In his schedule for that day he had planned an hour or two of paperwork, intended to protect him from drowning in pending documents, but the thought of it made him shudder. No, he thought, easy does it. It can wait. I'm going home... No, not yet. My wife can wait. I'll go to Cantarella. To my gorgeous Cantarella, with whom I can relax so pleasantly." }, { "from": "human", "value": "He quickly made up his mind." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He simply rose, took his cloak and left, a gesture full of disgust holding off his secretary, who was trying to force a leather portfolio of urgent documents onto him. Tomorrow! Tomorrow is another day!\n\nHe left the palace by the rear exit, which opened onto the gardens, and walked along a path lined with cypresses. He passed an ornamental pond, where a carp introduced by Emperor Torres was approaching the venerable age of a hundred and thirty-two years, as testified by a golden commemorative medal attached to the gills of the immense fish.\n\n\"Good evening, viscount.\"\n\nVattier released the dagger concealed in his sleeve with a short movement of his forearm. The hilt slid into his hand by itself.\n\n\"Very risky, Rience,\" he said coldly. \"Very risky, showing your burned countenance in Nilfgaard. Even as a magical teleprojection.\"\n\n\"You noticed? And Vilgefortz assured me that if you didn't touch me you wouldn't guess it was an illusion.\"\n\nVattier put the dagger away. He had not guessed it was an illusion at all, but now he knew.\n\n\"You are too great a coward, Rience,\" he said, \"to show yourself herein person. You know what would befall you if you did.\"\n\n\"Is the emperor still so determined to seize me? And my master Vilgefortz?\"\n\n\"Your insolence is disarming.\"\n\n\"Go to hell, Vattier. We're still on your side, Vilgefortz and I. Well, I admit we tricked you with the counterfeit Cirilla, but it was done in good faith, in good faith, may I be drowned if I lie. Vilgefortz believed that since the real one had vanished, a fake one was better than none at all. We reckoned it was all the same to you-'" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Your insolence has stopped being disarming and has begun to be insulting. I have no intention of wasting time talking to an insulting mirage. When I finally get my hands on you we shall have a conversation, along conversation. So until that time... apage, Rience.\"\n\n\"What's come over you, Vattier? In the past, if even the Devil himself appeared to you, you wouldn't forget to investigate– before the exorcism– if you couldn't, by any chance, profit in someway. '\n\nVattier did not grace the illusion with a glance. Instead he watched the algae-covered carp idly churning up the sludge in the pond.\n\n\"Profit in someway?\" he repeated slowly, pouting his lips contemptuously. \"From you? And what could you give me? The real Cirilla, perhaps? Perhaps your patron, Vilgefortz? Perhaps Cahir aep Ceallach?\"\n\n\"Hold hard!\" Rience raised an illusory hand. \"You mentioned him.\"\n\n\"Who?\"\n\n\"Cahir. We shall bring you Cahir's head. I, and my master, Vilgefortz... '\n\n\"Have mercy, Rience,\" Vattier snorted. \"Reverse the order.\"\n\n\"As you wish. Vilgefortz, with my humble help, will give you the head of Cahir, son of Ceallach. We know where he is and can pluck him out like a lobster from a pot, if you wish.\"\n\n\"So you have such capabilities, well, well. Such good stool-pigeons in Queen Meve's army? '\n\n\"Are you testing me?\" Rience grimaced. \"You really don't know? Must be the latter. Cahir, my dear viscount, is... We know where he is. We know where he's headed and in what company. You want his head? You shall have it.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"A head,\" Vattier smiled, \"which won't be able to tell anyone what really happened on Thanedd." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "'\n\n\"That's probably for the best, \"said Rience cynically.\"Why give Cahir the chance to talk? Our task is to ease– not exacerbate– the animosity between Vilgefortz and the emperor. I shall bring you the mute head of Cahir aep Ceallach. We'll do it in such away that it looks like your, and only your, achievement. Delivery in the next three weeks.\"\n\nThe ancient carp in the fishpond fanned the water with its pectoral fins. That beast, thought Vattier, must be very wise. But why does it need that wisdom? It's still the same sludge and the same waterlilies.\n\n'Your price, Rience?\n\n\"A trifle. Where is Stefan Skellen and what is he plotting?\"\n\n\"I told him what he wanted to know.\" Vattier de Rideaux stretched out on the pillows, playing with a ringlet of Carthia van Canten's golden hair.\"You see, my sweet, one has to approach some matters wisely. And to approach them wisely means to conform. If one behaves differently, one won't get anything. Just the putrid water and foul-smelling sludge in a fishpond. And so what if the pond is made of marble and is three paces from the palace? Aren't I right, my sweet? '\n\nCarthia van Canten, known by the pet-name of Cantarella, did not answer. Vattier in noway expected an answer. The girl was eighteen and– to put it mildly– no genius. Her interests, at least for the moment, were limited to making love with– at least for the moment– Vattier. Cantarella was a natural talent in sexual matters, combining enthusiasm and wholeheartedness with technique and artistry. That was not the most important thing about her, though." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Cantarella spoke little and seldom, while listening willingly and splendidly." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "With Cantarella one could unload oneself, relax, spiritually unwind and psychologically regenerate oneself.\n\n\"A man in this service can expect nothing but reprimands,\" Vattier said bitterly. \"Just because he hasn't found some Cirilla or other! And is the fact that, thanks to the work of my men, the army is achieving successes unimportant? Does the fact that the general staff knows the enemy's every move mean nothing? And how many strongholds have my agents opened for the imperial forces, which would have taken weeks to storm? But no, there is no praise for that. Only some Cirilla or other is important!\"\n\nPuffing up angrily, Vattier de Rideaux took a glass of excellent Est Est of Toussaint from Cantarella's hands, a wine with a vintage that remembered the days when Emperor Emhyr var Emreis was a cruelly damaged little boy, devoid of any rights to the throne and Vattier de Rideaux was a young officer of the intelligence service, insignificant in the hierarchy.\n\nIt had been a good year. For wine.\n\nVattier sipped it, played with Cantarella's shapely breasts and went on. Cantarella listened splendidly.\n\n\"Stefan Skellen, my sweet,\" muttered the chief of the imperial intelligence service, \"is a wheeler-dealer and a conspirator. But I shall know what he's up to before Rience gets there... I already have an agent there... Very close to Skellen... Very close... '\n\nCantarella untied the sash fastening Vattier's dressing gown, and leaned forward. Vattier felt her breath and moaned in anticipation of the pleasure. That's talent, he thought. And then the soft, hot touch of velvety lips drove all thoughts from his head." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Carthia van Canten slowly, deftly and skilfully supplied Vattier de Rideaux, the chief of the imperial intelligence service, with sexual bliss. That wasn't Carthia's only talent. But Vattier de Rideaux had no idea about her others.\n\nHe didn't know that despite appearances Carthia van Canten possessed a splendid memory and intelligence as lively as quicksilver.\n\nEverything Vattier told her, every piece of information, every word he uttered, Carthia passed onto the sorcereress Assire var Anahid the next day.\n\nYes, I would stake my head that everyone in Nilfgaard forgot about Cahir long ago, including his betrothed, if he had one.\n\nBut more about that later, for now we return to the day and place the Yaruga was crossed. We rode quite briskly eastwards, meaning to reach the region of the Black Forest known in the Elder Speech as Caed Dhu. For there dwelt the druids, who were capable of divining where Ciri was residing, or foretelling her location from the weird dreams that were vexing Geralt. We rode through Upper Riverdell, also known as Left Bank, a wild and deserted land situated between the Yaruga and the Slopes, set at the foot of the Amell Mountains, delineated to the east by the Dol Angra valley, and to the west by a boggy lakeland whose name has slipped my mind.\n\nNo one laid any specific claim to that land, and so it was never rightly known to whom it actually belonged or who governed it. In that respect, it seems, the successive monarchs of Temeria, Sodden, Cintra and Rivia– who, with varying results, treated Left Bank as a fiefdom of their kingdoms and occasionally tried to drive home their arguments using fire and sword– had some say. And subsequently the Nilfgaardian Army arrived from beyond the Amell Mountains and no one had anything more to say. Or any doubts about issues of fiefdom or territorial rights. Everything south of the Yaruga belonged to the Empire. As I write these words, plenty of lands to the north also belong to the Empire. Owing to alack of precise information, I do not know how many or how far to the north." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Going back to Riverdell, permit me, dear reader, a digression concerning historical processes. The history of a given territory is often created and formed by accident, as aside effect of the conflicts between external forces. A given land's history is very often created by foreigners. Foreigners are the cause– but the effects are always invariably borne by the local people.\n\nThat rule fully applied to Riverdell.\n\nRiverdell had its own folk, indigenous Riverdellers. The unceasing years of scrambles and struggles had transformed them into beggars and forced them to migrate. Their villages and settlements had gone up in smoke, and the ruins of homesteads and fields were transformed into fallow land and swallowed up by the wilderness. Trade fell into decline and caravans avoided the neglected roads and tracks. The few Riverdellers who remained turned into coarse boors. They mainly differed from wolverines and bears by the fact that they wore britches. At least some of them did. I mean some of them wore britches and some of them differed from the beasts. They were– generally speaking– an unobliging, crude and boorish nation.\n\nAnd utterly devoid of a sense of humour.\n\nThe dark-haired daughter of the forest beekeeper tossed her plait over her shoulder, and resumed turning the quern with furious vigour. Dandelion's efforts were in vain; the poet's words seemed not to register with their audience. Dandelion winked at the rest of the company, pretending to sigh and raise his eyes to the ceiling. But he did not quit.\n\n\"Let me,\" he repeated, grinning. \"Let me grind, while you fetch some ale from the cellar. There must be a hidden cellar somewhere around here and a keg in the vault. Am I right, fair one?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You might leave the wench alone, m'lord, \"the forest beekeeper's wife– a tall, willowy woman of astonishing beauty– said crossly as she busied herself around the kitchen. \"I already told'ee there ain't no ale'ere. '\n\n\"You bin told near a dozen times, m'lord, \"the forest beekeeper said, backing up his wife, breaking off from his conversation with the Witcher and the vampire.\"I shall make you pancakes with honey, and then you'll eat. But leave the wench in peace to grind the corn for meal, for without meal even a sorcerer cannot make a pancake! Let'er be, let \"er grind in peace.\"\n\n\"Did you hear that, Dandelion?\" called the Witcher. \"Leave the girl alone and go and do something useful. Or write your memoirs!\"\n\n\"I fancy a drink. I fancy a drink before eating. I have some herbs, I'll brew myself an infusion. Granny, would there be any hot water in this cottage? Hot water, I'm asking. Would there be any?\"\n\nAn old woman, the forest beekeeper's mother, sitting on the stove bench, raised her head from the sock she was darning.\n\n\"There would, petal, there would,\" she muttered. \"Only it be cold b\" now. '\n\nDandelion groaned and sat down, resigned, at the table, where the company was chatting with the beekeeper, whom they had happened upon in the forest early that morning. The beekeeper was short, thickset, swarthy and terribly hairy. No wonder, then, that he had given the company a scare when he loomed out of the undergrowth unexpectedly; they had taken him fora lycanthrope. To make it funnier still, the first to yell \"Werewolf! Werewolf!\" had been the vampire, Regis. There was something of a commotion, but the matter was quickly cleared up, and the beekeeper, though at first sight surly, turned out to be hospitable and courteous. The company accepted the invitation to his homestead. His homestead– called, in forest-beekeeping jargon, a \"shanty\"– stood in a cleared glade, where the beekeeper, his mother, his wife and their daughter lived. The latter two were women of exceptional, though somewhat curious, looks, clearly indicating that there was a dryad or hamadryad among their forebears." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "During the conversations that ensued, the forest beekeeper at first gave the impression one could talk to him solely about bees, beehives carved into trees, hollows, rope harnesses, bear fences, beeswax, honey and honey-gathering, but that was just a semblance.\n\n\"With politics? And what should be happening with it? The same as usual. We'ave to pay more and more duty. Three urns of honey, and an entire length of wax. I can barely supply it. I sit on my ropes from dawn to dusk, gouging out hollows... Who do I pay the duty to? To whoever calls, how am Ito know who's in power now? Sometime since, you know, they bin speakin\" Nilfgaardian. I \"ear we're now an imporial provenance, or summat like \"at. They pay for the honey– if I sell any– in imporial coin, with the emprer's head struck on it. \"Is mush is more comely, though cruel, you'll know \"im right away. If you get my drift...\"\n\nTwo dogs– one black and the other ruddy– sat facing the vampire, raised their heads and started to howl. The beekeeper's hamadryad wife turned back from the hearth and hit them with her broom.\n\n\"It bean evil sign,\" the beekeeper said, \"when hounds howl in broad daylight. Kind of thing... What was I sposed to be talkin\" \"bout?\"\n\n\"About the druids of Caed Dhu.\"\n\n\"Eh! So you wasn't jestin\", m'lord? You rightly mean to go to the druids? Sick of life, are you? That way is death! He who dares to venture into the Mistletoers'clearings is seized, shoved into a wicker doll and roasted over a slow flame.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Geralt looked at Regis and Regis winked at him. They both knew the popular rumours about the druids, and every last one was fabricated. Milva and Dandelion, though, began listening with greater curiosity than before. And evident alarm.\n\n\"There's some assay, \"the forest beekeeper continued,\"that the Mistletoers are getting their own back, for the Nilfgaardians vexed \"em first, by entering their holy oak groves down in Dol Angra and by walloping the druids for no reason. Others say the druids started it, capturing and tormenting a couple of imporial men to death, and now Nilfgaard are getting their revenge.\"Ow it rightly is, no one knows. But one thing brooks no doubt; the druids catch people, puts \"em in the Wicker Woman and burns'em. To venture among \"em is certain death.\"\n\n\"We are not afraid,\" Geralt said calmly.\n\n\"Certainly,\" the forest beekeeper eyed the Witcher, Milva and Cahir up and down. Cahir was just entering the cottage, having groomed the horses. \"It is evident you are fearless folk, valorous and armed. Eh, wouldn't be no fear journeying with the likes of you... you know... But the Mistletoers ain't in the Black Grove presently, your toils and travels would be in vain. Nilfgaard pressed'em, drove \"em from Caed Dhu. They ain't there presently. '\n\n\"How so?\"\n\n\"Thus it is. The Mistletoers'ave fled. '\n\n'Fled where?\n\nThe forest beekeeper glanced at his hamadryad wife and said nothing fora moment.\n\n\"Fled where?\" the Witcher repeated." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The beekeeper's tabby cat sat down before the vampire and miaowed frightfully." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The hamadryad hit it with her broom.\n\n\"It bean evil sign when a tomcat mews in broad daylight,\" the beekeeper mumbled, strangely embarrassed. \"But the druids... you know... They fled for the Slopes. Right enough. I speak the truth. To the Slopes.\"\n\n\"A good sixty miles south,\" Dandelion estimated in quite a casual– even cheerful– voice. But he fell silent when he saw the Witcher's expression.\n\nOnly the ominous miaowing of the cat, promptly driven outside, could be heard in the silence that fell.\n\n\"Well,\" the vampire began, \"what difference does it make to us?\"\n\nThe next morning brought more surprises. And riddles, which were quickly solved. \"A pox on it,\" said Milva, who was the first to scramble out of the hay barrack, awoken by the commotion. \"Well, I'll be blowed. Look at that, Geralt. '\n\nThe clearing was full of people. At first glance it could be seen that five or six forest beekeeping families were gathered there. The Witcher's trained eye also picked out several fur trappers and at least one tar maker. Taken together, there were twelve men, ten women, ten adolescents of both sexes and the same number of little children. The gathering was equipped with six wagons, twelve oxen, ten cows and four goats, a fair number of sheep, and also plenty of dogs and cats, whose barking and miaowing could definitely be considered a bad omen in such circumstances.\n\n\"I wonder,\" Cahir said, rubbing his eyes, \"what this means?\"\n\n\"Trouble,\" Dandelion replied, shaking the hay from his hair. Regis said nothing, but wore a curious expression." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Please break your fast, noble lords,\" said their friend the forest beekeeper, approaching the rick accompanied by abroad-shouldered man." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Breakfast is ready. Milky porridge. And honey... And if I may introduce Jan Cronin, headman of us forest beekeepers...\"\n\n\"Pleased to meet you,\" the Witcher lied, without returning the bow, partly because his knee was paining him intensely. \"And this crowd, how did they get here?\"\n\n\"Type of thing...\" the beekeeper scratched the back of his head. \"As you see, winter's coming... The trees have bear fences, the hollows have been gouged out... Time we returned to the Slopes and Riedbrune... Store away the honey, for winter, you know... But it is perilous to be in the forests... alone... '\n\nThe headman cleared his throat. The beekeeper glanced at Geralt's face and seemed to shrink a little.\n\n\"You are mounted and armed,\" he grunted. \"Valorous and bold, anyone can see it. Wouldn't be no fear travelling with the likes of you... And it'd be commodious for you... We know every path, every track, every copse and holt... And we can feed you...\"\n\n\"And the druids,\" Cahir said coldly, \"have left Caed Dhu. And headed for the Slopes. Where you want to go. What a remarkable coincidence.\"\n\nGeralt walked slowly over to the forest beekeeper and grabbed him by the front of his coat. But a moment later thought better of it, released him and smoothed down his garments. He said nothing. And asked nothing. But in any case the beekeeper hurried to explain.\n\n\"I spoke the truth! I swear! May the earth swallow me up if I lie! The Mistletoers have gone from Caed Dhu! They ain't there! '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And they're in the Slopes, are they? \"Geralt growled.\"Where you are headed, you and this rabble of yours? And you want to travel with an armed escort? Speak, fellow. But take heed, the earth is indeed liable to cleave open! '\n\nThe beekeeper lowered his eyes and looked down apprehensively at the ground beneath his feet. Geralt kept meaningfully silent. Milva, finally understanding what it was all about, cursed foully. Cahir snorted contemptuously.\n\n\"Well?\" the Witcher urged. \"Where were the druids making for?\"\n\n\"Who knows, m'lord? \"the beekeeper finally mumbled.\"But they maybe in the Slopes... Just as well as they might be anywhere else. There's a plenitude of mighty oak groves in the Slopes, and druids are fond of oaks...\"\n\nAside from headman Cronin, both hamadryads– mother and daughter– were now standing behind the beekeeper. It's fortunate the daughter takes after her mother and not her father, the Witcher thought, for the beekeeper suits his wife as well as a wild boar suits a mare. He noticed that several more women were standing behind the hamadryads. They were much less comely, but were looking at him just as pleadingly.\n\nHe glanced at Regis, not knowing whether to laugh or curse. The vampire shrugged.\n\n\"Let me start by saying,\" he said, \"that the forest beekeeper is right, Geralt. It is quite probable that the druids have gone to the Slopes. It is perfectly fitting terrain for them.\"\n\n\"Is that probability–\" the Witcher's gaze was very, very cold,\" – sufficiently great, in your view, to prompt us to abruptly change our course and head off blindly with these folk here? '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Regis shrugged again.\n\n\"What difference does it make? Think it over. The druids are not in Caed Dhu, so we ought to eliminate that direction of travel. Neither can a return to the Yaruga, I venture, bean option. And so all remaining directions are equally good.\"\n\n\"Really?\" The temperature of the Witcher's voice now equalled his gaze.\"And which of those that remain, in your view, would be most advisable? The one with the forest beekeepers? Ora quite different one? Will you– in your infinite wisdom– undertake to stipulate that? '\n\nThe vampire turned slowly towards the forest beekeeper, the forest beekeeper headman, the hamadryads and the other women.\n\n\"What is it,\" he asked gravely, \"you fear so much, good folk, that you seek an escort? What arouses this fear in you? Speak plainly.\"\n\n\"Oh, m'lord, \"Jan Cronin whined, and the most genuine horror appeared in his eyes.\"I'm glad you asked... Our way goes through the Dank Wilderness! And it's ghastly there, m'lord! There are, m'lord, brukolaks, vampyrodes, endryags, gryphoons and all kind of monstrosities! Why, barely two Sundays since, a leshy snatched my son-in-law, he only managed a rasp and that was him, dead. Do you not wonder that we're afeared to go that way with our women and bairns? Eh?\"\n\nThe vampire glanced at the Witcher and his face was very grave.\n\n\"My boundless wisdom,\" he said, \"suggests I stipulate that the most advisable direction is whichever is most advisable for the Witcher.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "We set off northwards, towards the Slopes, a land lying at the foot of the Amell Mountains." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "We set off in a great procession which contained everything: young women, forest beekeepers, fur trappers, women, children, young women, domestic livestock, household paraphernalia, and young women. And a hell of a lot of honey. Everything was sticky from the honey, even the girls.\n\nThe train moved at walking and wagon speed, but the pace of the march did not falter, for we did not stray, but marched with ease– the beekeepers knew the tracks, paths and causeways between the lakes. But that knowledge came in useful, oh, how it did, for it began to drizzle and suddenly the whole of bloody Riverdell was plunged into a fog as thick as cream. Without the beekeepers we would surely have lost our way or sunk somewhere in the mire. Neither did we have to waste time or energy organising and preparing vittles– we were fed thrice a day, amply, if simply. And were permitted to laze around for sometime after each repast.\n\nIn short, it was wonderful. Even the Witcher, that old sourpuss and bore, began to smile and enjoy life more, for he reckoned we were covering fifteen miles a day, which we had never once managed since leaving Brokilon. The Witcher had no work, for though the Dank Wilderness was so dank it would have been difficult to imagine anything danker, we did not encounter any monsters. Sure, at night spectres howled a little, forest weepers moaned and will o' the wisps capered on the bogs. But nothing remarkable.\n\nIt was a tiny bit worrying, in truth, that once again we were travelling in quite an accidentally chosen direction and once again without a precisely defined destination. But, as the vampire Regis articulated, it is better to go forward without an aim than loiter without an aim, and with surety much better than to retreat without an aim." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Dandelion! Strap that tube of yours on securely! It would be a shame for half a century of poetry to break free and get lost in the ferns.\"\n\n\"No fear! I shan't lose it, be certain of it. Nor let anyone take it from me! Anyone wanting this tube will have to wrest it from my cooling corpse. Might one know, Geralt, what provokes your peals of laughter? Let me hazard a guess... Congenital imbecility? '\n\nIt so happened that a team of archaeologists from the University of Castell Graupian, conducting excavations in Beauclair, dug through a layer of charcoal– indicating a great fire– to an even older layer, estimated to date from the 13th century. In that layer, a cavern formed by the remains of walls and sealed by clay and lime was excavated, and in it– to the great excitement of the scholars– were two perfectly preserved human skeletons: those of a woman and a man. Beside the skeletons– apart from weapons and countless small artefacts– was a tube made of hardened leather and measuring two and a half feet long. A coat of arms with faded colours depicting lions and lozenges was embossed on the leather. Professor Schliemann, a distinguished specialist in the sigillography of the Dark Ages, who was leading the team, identified the coat of arms as the emblem of Rivia, an ancient kingdom of unconfirmed location. The archaeologists'excitement reached its peak, since manuscripts were kept in similar tubes in the Dark Ages, when the container's weight permitted the supposition that there was plenty of paper or parchment preserved inside. The tube's excellent condition offered hope that the documents would be legible and throw light on the shadowy past. The centuries were about to speak! It was an exceptional surprise, a victory of science which could not be squandered. Linguists and scholars of extinct languages were prudently summoned from Castell Graupian, along with specialists capable of opening the tube without the risk of even the slightest damage to the valuable contents." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Meanwhile, rumours of \"treasure\" had spread through Professor Schliemann's team. It so happens that those words reached the ears of three characters, known as Zdyb, Billy Goat and Kamil Ronstetter, who'd been hired to dig out the clay. Convinced that the tube was literally stuffed full of gold and valuables, the three aforementioned diggers, undercover of darkness, swiped the priceless artefact and fled with it to the forest. Once there, they lit a small fire and sat down around it.\n\n\"What you waitin\" for? \"Billy Goat said to Zdyb.\"Open up that pipe! '\n\n\"Won't give, \"Zdyb complained to Billy Goat.\"It's tight as a whoreson!\"\n\n\"Stamp on the sodding bitch!\" Kamil Ronstetter advised.\n\nThe hasp of the priceless find gave way under Zdyb's heel and the contents fell out onto the ground.\n\n\"Bugger the sodding bitch!\" Billy Goat yelled in astonishment. \"What is it?\"\n\nThe question was foolish, for at first sight it could be seen they were sheets of paper. For which reason Zdyb, rather than answer, took one of the sheets and brought it up to his nose. He examined the curious-looking signs fora long while.\n\n\"It's writing, \"he finally stated authoritatively.\"They're letters!\"\n\n\"Letters?\" Kamil Ronstetter roared, paling in horror. \"Written letters? What a bitch!\"\n\n\"Writing, meaning spells!\" Billy Goat jabbered, his teeth chattering in terror. \"Letters, meaning witchery! Don't touch it, son-of-a-sodding-bitch! You might catch something from it! '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Zdyb didn't need telling twice, throwing the page onto the fire and nervously wiping his trembling hands on his britches. Kamil Ronstetter kicked the rest of the papers into the campfire– after all, children might chance upon that foul stuff. Then the three hurried away from that dangerous place. The priceless writing from the Dark Ages burned with a tall, bright flame. Fora few short moments the centuries spoke with the soft whisper of paper blackening in the fire. And then the flame went out and darkness covered the earth." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Houvenaghel, Dominik Bombastus, b. 1239, became rich in Ebbing conducting trade on a great scale and settled in Nilfgaard; respected by previous emperors, he was appointed burgrave and director of mines in Venendal by Emperor Jan Calveit, and as reward for services rendered was given the office of mayor of Neveugen. A faithful imperial advisor, H. had the emperor's favour and also participated in many public affairs. d. 1301. While still in Ebbing, H. was engaged in numerous charitable works, supported the needy and impoverished, and founded orphanages, hospitals and nurseries, putting up plentiful sums for them. A great enthusiast of the fine arts and sport, he founded a comedic theatre and stadium in the capital, both of which bore his name. He was regarded as a model of probity, honesty and mercantile decency.\n\nEffenberg and Talbot, Encyclopaedia Maxima Mundi, Volume VII" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Witness's surname and given name? '\n\n\"Selborne, Kenna. Beg pardon, I meant Joanna.\"\n\n\"Profession?\"\n\n\"Provider of diverse services.\"\n\n\"Is the witness jesting? May the witness be reminded that she stands before the imperial tribunal in atrial of high treason! The lives of many people depend on the witness's testimony, since the penalty for treason is death! May the witness be reminded that she stands before the tribunal by no means as a free agent, but having been brought from a place of isolation in the citadel, and whether the witness returns there or is discharged depends inter alia on her testimony. The tribunal has taken the liberty of this lengthy lecture in order to show the witness how highly improper buffoonery and facetiae are in this chamber! They are not merely unpalatable, but also threaten very grave consequences. The witness has a half-minute to ponder this matter after which the tribunal shall pose the question once again. '\n\n\"Very well, Illustrious Judge.\"\n\n\"Address us as'Your Honour\". Witness's profession? '\n\n\"I'm a psionic, Your Honour. But mainly in the service of the imperial intelligence, I mean... '\n\n\"Please keep your answers brief and to the point. Should the court be desirous of further explanations we shall ask for them. The court is aware of the collaboration between the witness and the empire's secret service. For the record, what is the meaning of the term'psionic\", which the witness used when giving her profession? '\n\n\"I've got pure aitch-es-pee, which means first category psi, without the gift of pee-kay. To be precise: I can hear other people's thoughts and speak remotely with a sorcerer, elf or other psionic. And I can give orders using thought. I mean: make someone do what I want them to. I can also do pre-cog, but only when I'm under. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Please enter in the proceedings that the witness, Joanna Selborne, is a psionic, with the gift of hypersensory perception. She is a telepath and tele-empath, able to carryout precognition under hypnosis, but without the ability of psychokinesis. The witness is admonished that the use of magic and extrasensory powers in this chamber is strictly prohibited. We shall continue the hearing. When, where and in what circumstances did the witness encounter the matter of the person passing herself off as Cirilla, Princess of Cintra?\"\n\n\"I only found out about some Cirilla or other when I was in the clink... I mean in a place of isolation, Illustrious Tribunal. While being investigated. I was made aware it was the same personas had been called Falka or the Cintran in my hearing. And the circumstances were such that I must state the order of events. For clarity, I mean. It was like this: I was accosted in a tavern in Etolia by Dacre Silifant, him, who's sitting over there... '\n\n\"Make note that the witness, Joanna Selborne, has indicated the accused Silifant without being prompted. Please continue.\"\n\n\"Dacre, Illustrious Tribunal, recruited a hanza... I mean, an armed troop. Valiant to a man, and woman... Dufficey Kriel, Neratin Ceka, Chloe Stitz, Andres Vierny, Til Echrade... They're all dead, Your Honour... And of the ones what survived, most of them are sitting here, under guard... '\n\n\"Please state precisely when the meeting of the witness and the accused, Silifant, took place.\"\n\n\"It was last year, in the month of August, somewhere near the end, I don't recall exactly. Well not in September, in any case, for that September, ha, is well embedded in my memory! Dacre, who'd learned about me from somewhere, said the hanza needed a psionic, one that wasn't afraid of magic, because we'd be dealing with sorcerers. The work, he said, was for the emperor and the empire, well-paid, furthermore, and the hanza would be commanded by none other than Tawny Owl himself.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"When they say Tawny Owl, does the witness have in mind Stefan Skellen, the imperial coroner?\"\n\n\"Yes, I do, indeed I do.\"\n\n\"Please enter that in the proceedings. When and where did the witness encounter Coroner Skellen?\"\n\n\"It was in September, on the fourteenth, in Fort Rocayne. Rocayne, Illustrious Tribunal, is a border watchtower, which guards the trade route from Maecht to Ebbing, Geso and Metinna. Our hanza– numbering some fifteen horse– was brought thereby Dacre Silifant. So, taken together, there were twenty-two of us, as the others were already standing by in Rocayne, under the command of Ola Harsheim and Bert Brigden.\"\n\nThe wooden floor boomed beneath heavy boots, spurs jingled and metal buckles clinked.\n\n\"Greetings, Sir Stefan!\"\n\nTawny Owl not only did not stand up, he didn't even take his feet from the table. He just waved a hand in a very lordly gesture.\n\n\"At last,\" he said curtly. \"You've kept me waiting along time, Silifant. '\n\n\"A longtime?\" Dacre Silifant laughed. \"That's rich, Sir Stefan! You gave me, four Sundays to gather and bring here a good dozen of the best blades the empire and its dominions have produced. A year would be too little for the assembling of such a hanza! But I tossed it off in twenty-two days. That deserves praise, eh? '\n\n\"Let's refrain from praise, \"Skellen said coolly,\"until I've seen this hanza of yours.\"\n\n\"Why not now? Here are my– and now your, Sir Stefan– lieutenants: Neratin Ceka and Dufficey Kriel.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Hail, hail.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Tawny Owl finally decided to stand up, and his adjutants also rose. \"Let me introduce you, gentlemen... Bert Brigden, Ola Harsheim...\"\n\n\"We know each other well.\" Dacre Silifant grasped Ola Harsheim's right hand firmly.\"We put down the rebellion in Nazair under old Braibant. That was comical, eh, Ola? Eh, comical! The horses were hock-deep in blood! And Mr Brigden, if I'm not mistaken, from Gemmera? From the Pacifiers? Ah, there'll be comrades in the squad! I've got a few Pacifiers there.\"\n\n\"I'm getting impatient to see them, \"Tawny Owl interjected.\"May we go? '\n\n\"A moment,\" Dacre said. \"Neratin, go and array the company, so they'll look their best before the honourable coroner. '\n\n\"Is it a he or she, that Neratin Ceka?\" Tawny Owl squinted, watching the officer leave. \"A woman or a man?\"\n\n\"Mr Skellen.\" Dacre Silifant cleared his throat, but when he spoke his voice was steady and his eyes cold. \"I do not know exactly. He would appear to be a man, but I'm not certain. As to what kind of officer Neratin Ceka is, I'm certain. What you have deigned to ask me about would be significant were Ito ask him– or her– for his– or her– hand. But that I do not intend. Neither do you, I expect.\"\n\n\"You're right, \"Skellen conceded after a moment's thought. \"So there's nothing to say. Let's go and scrutinise your gang, Silifant.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Neratin Ceka, the individual of uncertain gender, had not wasted time. When Skellen and the officers went out into the fort's courtyard, the squad was standing in tidy array, aligned so that not a horse's muzzle extended further than a span. Tawny Owl gave a slight cough, content. A decent band, he thought. Ah well, were it not for official policy... Oh, to assemble a hanza like that and head for the marches, to plunder, rape, murder and burn... A man would feel young again... Pshaw, if it weren't for politics!\n\n\"Well, Sir Stefan?\" Dacre Silifant asked, flushing with barely concealed excitement. \"How do you find them, these splendid sparrowhawks of mine?\"\n\nTawny Owl's eyes travelled from face to face, from figure to figure. He knew some of them personally, for better or worse. Others, whose acquaintance he was now making, he had heard of. By reputation.\n\nTil Echrade, a fair-haired elf, a scout of the Gemmerian Pacifiers. Rispat La Pointe, a sergeant from the same unit. Next, a Gemmerian: Cyprian Fripp the younger. Skellen had been present at the execution of Fripp the older. Both brothers had been famous for their sadistic proclivities.\n\nFurther away, leaning back easily in the saddle of a piebald mare, was Chloe Stitz, thief; occasionally hired and utilised by the secret service. Tawny Owl's eyes swiftly darted away from her insolent gaze and nasty smile.\n\nAndres Vierny, a Nordling from Redania, a vicious killer. Stigward, a pirate, a renegade from Skellige. Dede Vargas an assassin by profession, the Devil only knew where he was from, Kabernik Turent, a murderer by vocation." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And others. Much the same. They're all akin, Skellen thought. A guild, a fraternity, where after killing the first five people they all become the same. The same movements, the same gestures, the same manner of speech, of movement and dress.\n\nThe same eyes. Impassive and cool, flat and immobile like the eyes of a snake, whose expression nothing– not even the most monstrous atrocity– was capable of changing.\n\n\"Well? Sir Stefan?\"\n\n\"Not bad. A decent hanza, Silifant.\"\n\nDacre blushed even more and saluted in the Gemmerian fashion, fist pressed against his calpac.\n\n\"I especially requested,\" Skellen reminded him, \"several people who were no strangers to magic. Who fear neither spells nor sorcerers.\"\n\n\"I remembered. Why, there's Til Echrade! And apart from him, see that tall maiden on that splendid chestnut, the one beside Chloe Stitz? '\n\n\"Bring her tome later.\"\n\nTawny Owl leaned on the balustrade and rapped on it with the metal-tipped handle of his knout.\n\n\"Hail, company!\"\n\n\"Hail, lord coroner!\"\n\n\"Many of you,\" Skellen began, when the echo of the gang's combined roar had died away,\"have worked with me before, know me and my requirements. Let them explain to those who don't know me what I expect from my subordinates, and what I do not tolerate from them. Then I shan't waste my breath needlessly.\n\n\"This very day some of you will receive your assignments and will ride out at dawn to execute them. In Ebbing. I remind you that Ebbing is an autonomous kingdom and we have no formal jurisdiction there, so I order you to act prudently and discreetly. You remain in the imperial service, but I forbid you from flaunting it, boasting about it or treating the local rulers arrogantly. You shall behave so as not to attract attention. Is that clear?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yes sir, lord coroner!\"\n\n\"Here, in Rocayne, you are guests and are to behave like guests. I forbid you from leaving your assigned quarters without an essential need. I forbid you from making contact with the fort's garrison. The officers will think up something so that boredom doesn't drive you to fury. Mr Harsheim, Mr Brigden, please show the troop their quarters!\"\n\n\"I'd barely managed to get off me mare, Your Honour, than Dacre grabs me by the sleeve. Lord Skellen, he says, wants a word with you, Kenna. What to do? Off I go. Tawny Owl's sitting behind a table, feet up, whacking his knout against his bootleg. And without beating about the bush asks me if I'm the Joanna Selborne who was mixed up in the disappearance of the ship The Southern Star. I tells him nothing was ever proved. He bursts out laughing. \"I like people, you can't pin anything on,\" he says. Then he asks if my aitch-es-pee, hypersensory perception, I mean, is innate. When I says aye, his mood darkened and he says: \"I thought that talent of yours would come in useful with sorcerers, but first you'll have to deal with another mysterious personage\". '\n\n\"Is the witness certain Coroner Skellen used those exact words?\"\n\n\"I am. I'm a psionic, ain't I?\"\n\n\"Please continue.\"\n\n\"Our conversation was interrupted by a messenger, dusty from the road. He clearly hadn't spared his horse. He had urgent tidings for Tawny Owl, and Dacre Silifant says, as we was heading to our quarters, that he felt in his water that the messenger's tidings would shove us in the saddle before evening came. And'e was right, Your Honour. Even before anyone had thought of dinner, half the hanza were saddled up. I got off that time; they took Til Echrade, the elf. I was content, for after those few days on the road my arse ached like buggery... And to make matters worse my monthly had just started-'" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Will the witness please refrain from picturesque descriptions of her intimate complaints and keep to the subject. When did the witness learn the identity of the'mysterious personage\" Coroner Skellen mentioned?\"\n\n\"I'll tell you dreckly, but there has to be some order, don't there, for everything's getting so mixed up we won't ever untangle it! The ones who'd saddled their mounts in such haste before dinner raced from Rocayne to Malhoun. And brought back some teenage lad... '\n\nNycklar was angry with himself. So angry he felt like weeping.\n\nIf only he'd heeded the warnings given him by prudent folk! If only he'd remembered his proverbs, or at least the fable about the rook that couldn't keep its trap shut! If only he'd done what was to be done and returned home to Jealousy! But, oh no! Excited by the adventure, proud to be in possession of a fine steed, feeling the pleasant weight of coins in his purse, Nycklar couldn't resist showing off. Rather than going straight home to Jealousy, he rode to Malhoun, where he had loads of pals, including several maids, to whom he made advances. In Malhoun he strutted around like a gander in spring, kicked up a rumpus, cavorted, showed his horse off around the courtyard, and stood rounds in the inn, tossing money on the counter with the look and bearing of, if not a prince by blood, then at least a count.\n\nAnd talked.\n\nTalked about what had happened four days ago in Jealousy. He talked, constantly offering new versions, adding new information, confabulating, and ultimately lying through his teeth, which didn't bother his audience in the least. The inn's regulars– both locals and travellers– listened eagerly. And Nycklar went on, pretending to be well-informed. And placing himself ever oftener at the centre of the confabulated events." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "On the third evening his own tongue landed him in trouble.\n\nA deathly hush fell at the sight of the people entering the inn. And in that hush, the clank of spurs, the rattle of metal buckles and the scraping of scabbards sounded like a foreboding bell tolling misfortune from the top of a belfry.\n\nNycklar was not even given the chance to try playing the hero. He was seized and escorted from the inn so fast he only managed to touch the floor with his heels about three times. His pals, who only the previous day– when he was paying for their drinks– had declared their undying friendship, were now practically sticking their heads under the tables, as though incredible marvels were occurring or naked women were dancing there. Even the deputy shire-reave– who was present in the inn– turned to face the wall and didn't breathe a word.\n\nNycklar didn't breathe a word either, not asking who, what or why. Terror turned his tongue into a stiff, dry board.\n\nThey put him on his horse and ordered him to ride. For several hours. Then there was a fort with a palisade and a tower. The courtyard was full of noisy, swaggering, well-armed mercenaries. And a chamber. And in the chamber were three men. A commander and two subordinates, it was immediately obvious. The commander, short, with blackish hair, and richly attired, was sober in his speech and admirably courteous. Nycklar listened with mouth agape as the commander apologised to him for the trouble and inconvenience and assured him he would suffer no harm. But he was not to be deceived. The men reminded him too much of Bonhart.\n\nThat observation turned out to be astonishingly accurate. For they were interested in Bonhart. Nycklar should have expected that. For, after all, it was his wagging tongue that had landed him in this quandary." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When prompted he began to talk. He was warned to speak the truth and not embellish it. He was warned courteously, but sternly and emphatically, and the one doing the warning, the richly attired one, played all the while with a metal-tipped knout, and his eyes were dark and evil.\n\nNycklar, the son of the coffin-maker from Jealousy, told the truth. The whole truth and nothing but the truth. About how, on the morning of the ninth day of September in the village of Jealousy, Bonhart, a bounty hunter, had wiped out the gang of Rats, sparing the life of only one bandit, the youngest, the one they called Falka. He told them how the whole of Jealousy had gathered to watch Bonhart torment and thrash his captive, but the folk were sorely disappointed, for Bonhart, astonishingly, did not kill or even torture Falka! He did no more than what a normal fellow does to his wife on returning home from the tavern on Saturday evening– just gave her a kicking, slapped her a few times, and nothing more.\n\nThe richly attired gentleman with the knout said nothing, and Nycklar told them how Bonhart had sawn the heads off the slaughtered Rats before Falka's eyes, and plucked the golden earrings set with gemstones from those heads like raisins from a bun. How Falka, tied to the hitching post, screamed and puked on seeing it. He told how afterwards Bonhart had buckled a collar around Falka's neck, like you would a bitch dog, and dragged her by it to The Chimera's Head inn. And then...\n\n\"And then,\" said the lad, constantly licking his lips, \"the gentleman Bonhart called for ale, for he was sweating something awful and his throat was dry. And after that he cried that he had a fancy to give someone a good horse and a whole five florins. That's what he said, those were his very words. So I came forward at once, not waiting for anyone else to be quicker, for I wanted awful to have a horse and a little coin of my own. The old man gives me nothing, for he drinks whatever he makes on the coffins. So I comes forward and asks which horse– no doubt one of the Rats\"– can I take? And his lordship Bonhart looks at me, till shivers ran through me and says, don't he, that the only thing I can take is a kick up the backside, for other things have to be earned. What to do? Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, says the proverb; well, the Rats\" horses were standing at the hitching post, in particular that black mare of Falka's, a horse of rare beauty. So I bows and asks what must I do to earn the gift? And Mr Bonhart says that I must ride to Claremont, stopping off in Fano on the way. On the horse of my choosing. He must have known I had me eye on the black mare, for he forbad me from taking her. So I takes a chestnut with a white patch...\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Less about horses\" coats, \"Stefan Skellen reprimanded dryly.\"And more hard facts. Tell us what Bonhart charged you to do. '\n\n\"His lordship Bonhart wrote some missives, and ordered me to hide them secure. He charged me to ride to Fano and Claremont, and thereto handover the letters to the indicated persons.\"\n\n\"Letters? What was in them?\"\n\n\"How should I know, gentle lord? Reading don't come easy tome, and the letters were sealed with Mr Bonhart's signet.\"\n\n\"But for whom were the letters, do you recall?\"\n\n\"Oh, indeed I do. Mr Bonhart ordered me to repeat it ten times, so I wouldn't forget. I got where I was to go without erring, and handed over the missives as instructed. They praised me for an able lad, and that honourable merchant even gave me a denar-'\n\n\"To whom did you deliver the letters? Speak plainly!\"\n\n\"The first missive was for Master Esterhazy, a swordsmith and armourer from Fano. And the second was for the honourable Houvenaghel, a merchant from Claremont.\"\n\n\"Did they open the letters in your presence? Perhaps one of them said something as he read? Rack your brains, lad.\"\n\n\"I cannot recall. I didn't mark it then, and now I can't seem to remember...\"\n\n\"Mun, Ola,\" Skellen nodded at the adjutants, without raising his voice at all. \"Take the lout into the courtyard, drop his britches, and give him thirty solid lashes with a knout.\"\n\n\"I remember!\" the boy yelled. \"It's comeback tome! '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Nothing works on the memory,\" Tawny Owl grinned, \"like nuts and honey, or a knout hovering over the arse." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Talk.\"\n\n\"When Houvenaghel read the missive in Claremont, there was another gentlemen there, a little chap, a veritable halfling. Mr Houvenaghel said to him... Erm... He said they'd written that soon there might be sport in the fleapit the like of which the world had never seen. That's what he said!\"\n\n\"You aren't making this up? '\n\n\"I swear on my mother's grave! Don't have them flog me, gentle lord! Have mercy!\"\n\n\"Well, well, getup, don't dribble on my boots! Here's a denar.\"\n\n\"A thousand thanks... M'lord... '\n\n\"I said don't dribble on my boots. Ola, Mun, do you understand anything of this? What does a fleapit have in common with-'\n\n\"Bear pit,\" Boreas Mun suddenly said. \"Not fleapit. Bear pit.\"\n\n\"Aye!\" the boy yelled. \"That's what \"e said! Just as though you'd been there, gentle lord! '\n\n\"A bear pit and sport!\" Ola Harsheim hit one fist against the other. \"It's an agreed code, nothing too elaborate. It's easy. Sport– bear-baiting– is a warning about a pursuit or a manhunt. Bonhart was warning them to flee! But from whom? From us?\"\n\n\"Who knows?\" said Tawny Owl pensively. \"Who knows? We shall have to send men to Claremont... And to Fano also. You take care of that, Ola, give the squads their orders... Now listen, my lad...\"\n\n\"Yes sir, gentle lord!\"\n\n\"When you left Jealousy with Bonhart's letters, he was still there, I understand? And making ready to leave? Was he in haste? Did he say, perhaps, whither he was headed? '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"He did not. And neither could he make ready. He'd had his raiment– which was awful blood-spattered– cleaned and laundered, so he was only in a blouse and hose, but girt with a sword. Though I think he was hastening to leave. Why, he had thrashed the Rats and sawed them's heads off for the bounty, so he needs must ride and claim it. And, why, he'd captured that Falka too, to deliver her alive to someone. Why, that's his profession, ain't it? '\n\n\"This Falka... Did you have a good look at her? Why are you cackling, you ass?\"\n\n\"Oh, gentle lord! Have a good look at her? I'll say I did! Every detail! '\n\n\"Disrobe,\" Bonhart repeated, and there was something in his voice that made Ciri cringe involuntarily. But defiance immediately got the better of her.\n\n\"No!\"\n\nShe didn't seethe fist, she didn't even catch sight of its movement. She saw stars, the ground swayed, then shot from under her feet and suddenly thumped painfully against her hip. Her cheek and ear burned like fire; she realised she had not been punched, but struck with an open palm.\n\nHe stood over her and brought his clenched fist towards her face. She saw the heavy, skull-shaped signet, which a moment earlier had stung her face like a hornet.\n\n\"You owe me one front tooth,\" he said icily. \"So the next time I hear the word'no\" from you I'll knock two outright away. Get undressed. '\n\nShe stood up unsteadily and began to unfasten buckles and buttons with shaking hands. The villagers present in The Chimera's Head murmured, coughed and goggled. The widow Goulue, the alewife, bent down behind the counter, pretending to be looking for something." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Strip off everything. To the last rag.\"\n\nThey aren't here, she thought, undressing and staring blankly at the floor. There's no one here. And I'm not here either.\n\n\"Legs apart.\"\n\nI'm not here at all. What is about to happen won't touch meat all. Not at all. Not a bit.\n\nBonhart laughed.\n\n\"You flatter yourself, I think. I must dispel those illusions. I'm undressing you, little idiot, to check you haven't concealed any magical talismans, charms or amulets about your person. Not to enjoy your wretched nakedness. Don't start imagining the Devil knows what. You're a skinny kid, as flat as a pancake, and as ugly as the seven sins. Even if the urge was strong, I'd sooner tup a turkey. '\n\nHe walked over, spread her clothing around with the tip of his boot and sized it up.\n\n\"I said everything! Earrings, rings, necklace, bracelet!\"\n\nHe gathered up her jewellery meticulously. He kicked her tunic with the blue fox-fur collar, gloves, coloured scarves and belt with silver chains into the corner.\n\n\"You won't parade around like a parrot or a half-elf from a whorehouse now! You can put on the rest of those rags. And what are you lot staring at? Goulue, bring some provender, I'm hungry! And you, fatso, see how my vestments are coming on!\"\n\n\"I am the ealdorman here!\"\n\n\"How convenient,\" Bonhart drawled, and the ealdorman of Jealousy seemed to grow slimmer under his gaze. \"If anything has been damaged in the laundry I shall take measures against you, as a public servant. Off to the wash house! The rest of you, get out! And you, pipsqueak, why are you still standing here? You have the letters, the horse is saddled, so smartly to the highway and begone! And remember: should you fail, lose the letters or mix up the addresses, I shall find you and cut you up so fine your own mother wouldn't recognise you! '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'm flying, m'lord! I'm flying! '\n\n\"That day,\" Ciri pursed her lips, \"he beat me twice more. Once with his fist and once with a knout. Then he lost the urge. He just sat and stared at me without a word. His eyes were somehow... like those of a fish. Without eyebrows, without eyelashes... Somehow like watery orbs, with a black core sunk into each one. He stared hard at me and said nothing. That terrified me more than being beaten. I didn't know what he was plotting. '\n\nVysogota remained silent. Mice scampered around the chamber.\n\n\"He kept asking me who I was, but I said nothing. Just like when the Trappers caught me in Korath desert, this time too I fled deep into myself, inside, if you know what I mean. The Trappers said I was a doll then, and I was: a wooden doll, insensitive and lifeless. I was somehow looking down from above at everything that was being done to that doll. So what if they were hitting me, so what if they were kicking me, putting a collar on me like a dog? For it wasn't me, it wasn't meat all... Do you understand?\"\n\n\"I do,\" Vysogota nodded. \"I do understand, Ciri.\"\n\n\"Then, Your Honour, it was our turn. The turn of our group. Neratin Ceka took command over us, and they also assigned Boreas Mun, a tracker, to us. Boreas Mun, Illustrious Tribunal, could track a fish in water, they say. That's how good he was! Onetime, they say, Boreas Mun-'\n\n\"The witness will refrain from digressions.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Beg pardon? Oh, yes... I get it. I mean they ordered us to ride to Fano at all speed. It was the morning of the sixteenth of September...\"\n\nNeratin Ceka and Boreas Mun rode at the head, and behind them, side by side, Kabernik Turent and Cyprian Fripp the younger, then Kenna Selborne and Chloe Stitz, and finally Andres Vierny and Dede Vargas. The latter two were singing anew and popular soldier's song, sponsored and endorsed by the Ministry of War. Even among soldier's songs it stood out by the horrifying paucity of its rhymes and alarming lack of respect for grammatical rules. It was entitled At War, since all the verses– and there were over forty of them– began with those words.\n\nAt war things can get quite rough,\n\nSomeone gets their head chopped off,\n\nYou comeback from a drinking bout,\n\nTo see a cove with his guts hanging out.\n\nKenna softly whistled along. She was pleased to be among companions she had come to know well on the long journey from Etolia to Rocayne. After her conversation with Tawny Owl she had expected a random assignment, to be tagged onto a squad made up of Brigden and Harsheim's men. Til Echrade had been assigned to a squad like that, but the elf knew most of his new comrades, and they knew him. They rode at a walk, though Dacre Silifant had ordered them to race at full speed. But they were professionals. They had galloped, kicking up dust, while they could still be seen from the fort, then they'd slowed down. Tiring horses out and reckless gallops were good for tyros and amateurs, and haste, of course, only comes in useful for catching fleas!" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "In partnership with the author, move the story forward.\nTags: fantasy, dark fantasy, chase\nAuthor: Andrzej Sapkowski\nTitle: The Tower of Swallows\nChapter: 8" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Beg pardon? Oh, yes... I get it. I mean they ordered us to ride to Fano at all speed. It was the morning of the sixteenth of September...\"\n\nNeratin Ceka and Boreas Mun rode at the head, and behind them, side by side, Kabernik Turent and Cyprian Fripp the younger, then Kenna Selborne and Chloe Stitz, and finally Andres Vierny and Dede Vargas. The latter two were singing anew and popular soldier's song, sponsored and endorsed by the Ministry of War. Even among soldier's songs it stood out by the horrifying paucity of its rhymes and alarming lack of respect for grammatical rules. It was entitled At War, since all the verses– and there were over forty of them– began with those words.\n\nAt war things can get quite rough,\n\nSomeone gets their head chopped off,\n\nYou comeback from a drinking bout,\n\nTo see a cove with his guts hanging out.\n\nKenna softly whistled along. She was pleased to be among companions she had come to know well on the long journey from Etolia to Rocayne. After her conversation with Tawny Owl she had expected a random assignment, to be tagged onto a squad made up of Brigden and Harsheim's men. Til Echrade had been assigned to a squad like that, but the elf knew most of his new comrades, and they knew him. They rode at a walk, though Dacre Silifant had ordered them to race at full speed. But they were professionals. They had galloped, kicking up dust, while they could still be seen from the fort, then they'd slowed down. Tiring horses out and reckless gallops were good for tyros and amateurs, and haste, of course, only comes in useful for catching fleas!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Chloe Stitz, the professional thief from Ymlac, told Kenna about her erstwhile work with Coroner Stefan Skellen. Kabernik Turent and Fripp the younger reined in their horses and listened, often looking back.\n\n\"I know him well. I've served under him several times... '\n\nChloe stammered a little, aware of the suggestive nature of her words, but immediately laughed freely and carelessly.\n\n\"I've also served under his command, \"she snorted.\"No, Kenna, don't worry. None of those demands from Tawny Owl. He didn't force himself on me, I looked for the opportunity and found it. But to be clear I'll say this: you won't gain his protection by doing that. '\n\n\"I'm not planning anything of the kind. \"Kenna pouted, looking provocatively at the lewd smiles of Turent and Fripp.\"I won't be looking for an opportunity, but I'm not worried either. I'm not alarmed by any old thing. And certainly not by a cock!\"\n\n\"That's all you talk about, ' Boreas Mun said, reining back his dun stallion and waiting for Kenna and Chloe to catch up with him.\n\n\"We aren't riding off to fight with our cocks, ladies! \"he added, continuing to ride beside the young women.\"Bonhart, let me tell you, has few equals with the sword. I'll be glad if it turns out there's no squabble or vendetta between him and Mr Skellen. And that everything blows over. '\n\n\"But I don't get it, \"Andres Vierny admitted from the rear.\"Apparently we were to track down some sorcerer. That's why they gave us a psionic, this here Kenna. Wasn't it? Now, though, there's talk about some Bonhart and a girl!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Bonhart, the bounty hunter,\" Boreas Mun said, \"had a compact with Mr Skellen. And let him down. Though he promised Mr Skellen he'd kill that girl, he let her live. '\n\n\"No doubt someone's paying more for her alive than Tawny Owl would for her dead. \"Chloe Stitz shrugged.\"That's what bounty hunters are like. Don't go looking for honour among them! '\n\n\"Bonhart is different,\" Fripp the younger, looking back, retorted. \"Bonhart never breaks his word.\"\n\n\"Making it all the stranger that he's suddenly started. '\n\n\"And why,\" Kenna asked, \"is that lass so prized? The one who was to be killed, but wasn't? '\n\n\"What business is it of ours?\" Boreas Mun grimaced. \"We have our orders! And Mr Skellen has the right to demand his due. Bonhart was meant to have stuck Falka, and didn't. Mr Skellen has the right to demand that he accounts for it... '\n\n\"This Bonhart,\" Chloe Stitz repeated with conviction, \"means to get more money for her alive than dead. There's your whole mystery. '\n\n\"The lord coroner,\" Boreas Mun said, \"thought the same at first, that Bonhart had promised to supply Falka alive– for the sake of amusement and slow torture– to a baron from Geso, who was determined to punish the Rats\" gang. But it turned out not to be true. No one knows who Bonhart is keeping Falka alive for, but it certainly ain't that baron.\"\n\n\"Mr Bonhart!\" The fat ealdorman of Jealousy lumbered into the tavern, puffing and panting. \"Mr Bonhart, there are armed men in the village! Riding horses!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"What a sensation.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Bonhart wiped his plate with some bread. \"Now if they were riding monkeys, that would be remarkable. How many?\"\n\n\"Four!\"\n\n\"And where are my vestments?\"\n\n\"Barely laundered... They haven't dried... '\n\n\"A pox on you. I'll have to greet our guests in my hose. But in truth, the quality of such a greeting suits that of the guests. '\n\nHe adjusted the belt and sword fastened over his hose, tucked the straps of his hose into his boot tops, and tugged the chain attached to Ciri's collar.\n\n\"On your feet, little Rat.\"\n\nWhen he led her out onto the porch, the four horsemen were already nearing the tavern. It was clear that they had ridden long over trackless terrain and through bad weather; their clothing, harnesses and horses were flecked with crusted-on dust and mud.\n\nThere were four of them, but they were leading a riderless horse. At the sight of it Ciri felt herself suddenly growing hot, though the day was very cool. It washer roan, still bearing her trappings and saddle. And a brow band, a gift from Mistle. The horsemen were among those who had killed Hotspurn.\n\nThey stopped outside the tavern. One, probably the leader, rode up, and raised his marten-fur calpac to Bonhart. He was swarthy and had a thin, black moustache on his upper lip like a line drawn in charcoal. His upper lip, Ciri noticed, curled every now and then; the tic meant he looked enraged the whole time. Perhaps he really was furious?\n\n\"Greetings, Mr Bonhart!\"\n\n\"Greetings, Mr Imbra. Greetings, gentlemen.\" Bonhart unhurriedly fastened Ciri's chain onto a hook on a post.\"Excuse my unmentionables, but I wasn't expecting you. Along road behind you, my, my... You've come all the way to Ebbing from Geso? And how is the honourable baron? In good health? '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Fit as a fiddle,\" the swarthy man replied indifferently, wrinkling his upper lip again." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But there's no time to spend on idle chatter. We're in a hurry.\"\n\n\"I–\" Bonhart hauled up his belt and hose\"– am not holding you back.\"\n\n\"News has reached us that you slaughtered the Rats.\"\n\n\"That is true.\"\n\n\"And in accordance with your promise to the baron,\" the swarthy man continued to pretend he could not see Ciri on the porch, \"you took Falka alive.\"\n\n\"I'd say that that is also true. '\n\n\"You were lucky, where we were not.\" The swarthy man glanced at the roan. \"Very well. We'll take the wench and head homeward. Rupert, Stavro, take her. '\n\n\"Not so fast, Imbra,\" Bonhart raised a hand. \"You aren't taking anyone. And for the simple reason that I won't give her to you. I've changed my mind. I'm keeping the girl.\"\n\nThe swarthy man called Imbra leaned over in the saddle, hawked and spat, impressively far, almost to the steps of the porch.\n\n\"But you promised His Lordship the baron!\"\n\n\"I did. But I've changed my mind. '\n\n\"What? Do my ears deceive me?\"\n\n\"The state of your ears, Imbra, is not my concern.\"\n\n\"You stayed three days at the castle. You guzzled and gorged for three days on the promises given to His Lordship. The best wine from his cellar, roast peacock, venison, forcemeat, carp in cream. You slept like a king in a feather bed for three nights. And now you've changed your mind? '\n\nBonhart said nothing, maintaining an expression of indifference and boredom. Imbra clenched his teeth in order to suppress the twitching of his lips." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You know, Bonhart, that we can take her from you by force?\"\n\nBonhart's face, until that moment bored and amused, hardened instantly.\n\n\"Just try. There are four of you and one of me. And me in my hose at that. But I don't have to don britches to deal with scoundrels like you. '\n\nImbra spat again, jerked his reins, and turned his horse around.\n\n\"The Devil take it, Bonhart, what's happened to you? You've always been renowned as a reliable, honest professional. Once given, you keep your word unfailingly. And now it turns out your word isn't worth shit! And since a man is judged by his words, then it turns out that you're a-\"\n\n\"If the talk is of words,\" Bonhart interrupted coldly, resting his hands on his belt buckle, \"then take heed, Imbra, that you don't let too coarse a word slip out by accident. For it might hurt when I shove it back down your throat. '\n\n\"You are bold against four! But will your boldness suffice against fourteen? For the Baron of Casadei will not let this insult slide!\"\n\n\"I'd tell you what I'll do with your baron, but a crowd forms, and in it are women and children. So I shall merely tell you that in some ten days I shall stop in Claremont. Whomsoever wishes to pursue aright, avenge an insult or take Falka from me, let them come to Claremont.\"\n\n\"I shall be there!\"\n\n\"I shall be waiting. Now be off with you.\"\n\n\"They feared him. They feared him terribly. I could feel the fear seeping from them.\"\n\nKelpie whinnied loudly, jerking her head." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There were four of them, armed to the teeth. And one of him, in darned long johns and a ragged old blouse with too-short sleeves. He would have been ridiculous, were he... Were he not so terrible.\"\n\nVysogota remained silent, narrowing his eyes, which were watering from the wind. They were standing on a knoll rising above the Pereplut Marshes, not far from the spot where, two weeks earlier, the old man had found Ciri. The wind flattened the reeds and ruffled the water on the marshes.\n\n\"One of the four,\" Ciri continued, letting her mare enter the water and drink, \"had a small crossbow by his saddle and his hand stretched out towards that crossbow. I could almost hear his thoughts and feel his terror. \"Will I manage to cock it? And loose it? And what will happen if I miss?\" Bonhart also saw that crossbow and that hand, he heard the same thoughts, I'm sure. And I'm sure the horseman wouldn't have been quick enough. '\n\nKelpie raised her head, snorted and jingled the rings of her curb bit.\n\n\"I was understanding better and better into whose hands I'd fallen. But I still couldn't understand his motives. I'd heard their conversation and remembered what Hotspurn had said before. That the Baron of Casadei wanted me alive and Bonhart had promised him that. And then he changed his mind. Why? Did he want to hand me over to somebody else who would pay more? Had he worked out who I really was? And meant to turn me over to the Nilfgaardians?\n\n\"We set off from the village before nightfall. He let me ride Kelpie. But he tied my hands and held me by the chain fixed to the collar the whole time. The whole time! And we rode, almost without stopping, a whole night and day. I thought I'd die of exhaustion. But he showed no tiredness at all. He isn't a man. He's the Devil incarnate. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Where did he take you?\"\n\n\"To a little town called Fano.\"\n\n\"When we entered Fano, Illustrious Tribunal, it was already gloomy, murky as you please, only the sixteenth of September, in truth, but the day was overcast and cold as hell, you'd of said it was November. We didn't have to search long for the armourer's workshop, for it was the largest farmstead in the entire town, and what's more, the ringing of hammers forging iron relentlessly sounded from it. Neratin Ceka... Master scribe, you write his name in vain, for I don't recall if I said, but Neratin is dead now, killed in a village called Unicorn-'\n\n\"Please do not instruct the clerk. Continue with your testimony.\"\n\n\"Neratin knocked at the gate. He politely said who we were and what was our business, and asked politely to be heard. We were admitted. The swordsmith's workshop was a fine building, virtually a stronghold, with a palisade of pine timbers, towers of oaken planks, and inside planed larch on the walls-'\n\n\"The court is not interested in architectural details. Let the witness get to the point. Prior to that, however, please repeat the swordsmith's name for the records. '\n\n\"Esterhazy, Illustrious Tribunal. Esterhazy of Fano.\"\n\nThe swordsmith, Esterhazy, looked long at Boreas Mun, unhurriedly answering the question posed to him. \"P'rhaps Bonhart was here, \"he finally said, fiddling with a bone whistle hanging around his neck.\"And p'rhaps he wasn't? Who knows? This, gentlefolk, is a workshop where we forge swords. We shall answer any questions concerning swords eagerly, swiftly, elegantly and at length. But I see no reason to answer questions concerning our guests or customers. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kenna pulled a kerchief from her sleeve and pretended to wipe her nose.\n\n\"A reason can be found,\" said Neratin Ceka. \"You may find one, Mr Esterhazy. Or I may. Would you choose?\"\n\nIn spite of the semblance of effeminacy, Neratin's face could become hard and his voice menacing. But the swordsmith only snorted, continuing to toy with the whistle.\n\n\"Choose between a bribe and a threat? I would not. I consider the former and the latter worth only of being spat on.\"\n\n\"Just one tiny piece of information,\" Boreas Mun said, clearing his throat. \"Is that so much? We've known each other long, Mr Esterhazy, and Coroner Skellen's name is known to you-\"\n\n\"It is,\" the swordsmith cut in, \"it is indeed. The misdemeanours and exploits with which that name is associated are also known to us. But we are in Ebbing, an autonomous and self-governing kingdom. Only seemingly, perhaps, but nonetheless. Thus we shall tell you nothing. Continue on your way. As a consolation, we'll pledge to you that if in a week or a month someone asks about you, they will hear just as little. '\n\n\"But, Mr Esterhazy-\"\n\n\"Must I make it clearer? Prithee, get out of here!\"\n\nChloe Stitz hissed furiously, Fripp and Vargas'hands crept towards their hilts, and Andres Vierny laid his fist on the war hammer hanging at his thigh. Neratin Ceka did not move and his face did not even quiver. Kenna saw that his eye never left the bone whistle. Before they entered, Boreas Mun had warned them that the sound of the whistle was the signal for bodyguards– consummate men-at-arms– called'quality controllers\", who were waiting, concealed, in the swordsmith's workshop." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But, having foreseen everything, Neratin and Boreas had planned their next move. They had a trump up their sleeves.\n\nKenna Selborne. Psionic.\n\nKenna had already probed the swordsmith's mind, had gently pricked him with impulses and cautiously pervaded the tangle of his thoughts. Now she was ready. Pressing a kerchief to her nose– there always existed the danger of a nosebleed– she forced her way into his brain with a throbbing and a command. Esterhazy began to choke, flushed, and grasped the table he was sitting behind with both hands, as though he feared it would float away to distant lands along with the sheaf of invoices, the inkwell and the paperweight depicting a nereid cavorting with two tritons at once.\n\nKeep calm, Kenna commanded, it's nothing, nothing's the matter. You would simply like to tell us what we wish to know. For you know what interests us, and the words are positively bursting forth from you. So goon. Begin. You will see that you only need speak and the humming in your head, the roaring in your temples and the stabbing in your ears will cease. And the spasm in your jaw will also subside.\n\n\"Bonhart,\" Esterhazy said hoarsely, opening his mouth more often than would be expected from the syllabic articulation, \"was here four days ago, on the twelfth of September. He had a wench with him he called Falka. I was expecting his visit, for two days earlier a letter from him had been delivered...\"\n\nA trickle of blood seeped from his left nostril.\n\nSpeak, Kenna ordered. Speak. Tell us everything. You can see what a relief it will be." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The swordsmith Esterhazy scrutinised Ciri with curiosity, without getting up from the oaken table.\n\n\"It's for her, \"he guessed, tapping a pen holder against the paperweight depicting the weird group.\"The sword you requested in the letter. Right, Bonhart? Well, let's examine it then... Let's see if it agrees with what you wrote. Five feet, nine inches in height... And such she is. One hundred and twelve pounds in weight... Well, we'd have given her less than a hundred and twelve, but that's a minor detail. A hand, you wrote, which a number five glove would fit... Show me your hand, honourable maiden. Well, and that agrees, too. '\n\n\"With me everything always agrees,\" Bonhart said dryly. \"Do you have any decent iron for her?\"\n\n\"In my firm,\" Esterhazy answered proudly, \"no other iron than decent is manufactured or offered. I understood it was to be a sword for combat, not for gala decoration. Ah, yes, you wrote that. Naturally, a weapon will be found for this maid without any difficulty. Swords of thirty-eight inches suit such a height and weight, standard manufacture. With that light build and small hand, she needs a mini-bastard with a hilt lengthened to nine inches, and a pommel. We could also suggest an elven taldaga or Zerrikanian sabre, or alternatively alight Viroledanian-\"\n\n\"Show me the wares, Esterhazy.\"\n\n\"Hot-tempered, are we, eh? Well, come this way. Come this way... Hey, Bonhart? What the Devil is this? Why are you pulling heron a leash?\"\n\n\"Keep your snotty nose out of this, Esterhazy. Don't stick it where it doesn't belong, for you're liable to get it caught somewhere! '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Esterhazy, toying with the whistle hanging around his neck, looked at the hunter without fear or respect, though he had to crane his neck a good deal. Bonhart twisted his moustache and cleared his throat.\n\n\"I,\" he said, a little more quietly, though still malevolently, \"don't meddle in your business or affairs. Does it surprise you that I demand reciprocity? '\n\n\"Bonhart.\" The swordsmith did not even flicker an eyelid. \"When you leave my home and courtyard, when you close my gate behind you, then shall I respect your privacy, the secrecy of your affairs, the specifics of your profession. And I shall not meddle in them, be certain. But in my home I shall not allow you to abuse human dignity. Do you understand me? Outside my gate you may drag the wench behind a horse, if you wish. In my home you will remove that collar. Forthwith.\"\n\nBonhart reached for the collar and unfastened it, unable to resist a tug which almost brought Ciri to her knees. Esterhazy, pretending he hadn't seen it, let the whistle slip from his fingers.\n\n\"That's better, \"he said dryly.\"Let's go.\"\n\nThey crossed a small passage into another, slightly smaller, courtyard adjoining the rear of the smithy, with one side opening out onto an orchard. There was along table there, beneath a canopy resting on carved posts, where servants were just finishing laying out some swords. Esterhazy gestured for Bonhart and Ciri to walk up to the array.\n\n\"This is what I offer.\"\n\nThey approached.\n\n\"Here,\" Esterhazy pointed to along row of swords on the table, \"we have my wares. All the blades were forged here. You can seethe horseshoe, my punch-mark. Prices fall in the range of five to nine florins, since they're standard. These, though, lying here, are only assembled and finished by us. The blades are generally imported. Their origin can be told from the punches. The ones from Mahakam have crossed hammers stamped on them, those from Poviss a crown or a horse's head, and those from Viroleda a sun and the famous workshop's inscription. Prices start at ten florins. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And where do they end?\"\n\n\"That varies. Oh, this one, for example, is an exquisite Viroledanian.\" Esterhazy took up a sword from the table, gave a salute with it, and then moved to a fencing position, dextrously twisting his hand and forearm in a complicated sequence called an \"Angelica\". \"This one is fifteen. Antique workmanship, a collector's blade. Clearly made to order. The motif chiselled on the ricasso shows the weapon was intended fora woman. '\n\nHe turned the sword over, handheld in tierce, pointing the blade flat at them.\n\n\"As on all Viroleda blades, the traditional inscription: \"Draw me not without reason; sheath me not without honour\". Ha! They still chisel such inscriptions in Viroleda. Throughout the wide world, these blades have been drawn by blackguards and oafs. Throughout the wide world, honour has gone way down in price, for it's an unprofitable commodity-'\n\n\"Don't talk so much, Esterhazy. Give her that sword, let her try it for size. Take the blade, girl. '\n\nCiri grasped the sword lightly, feeling the lizard-skin hilt cling firmly to her palm, and the weight of the blade urging her arm to wield and thrust.\n\n\"It's a mini-bastard, ' Esterhazy reminded her. Needlessly. She knew how to use the long hilt, with three fingers on the pommel.\n\nBonhart took two steps backward, into the courtyard. He drew his sword from the scabbard and whirled it around until it hissed.\n\n\"Have at me!\" he said to Ciri. \"Kill me. You have a sword and you have the opportunity. You have the chance. Make use of it. For I shan't soon give you a second. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Have you lost your mind?\"\n\n\"Quiet, Esterhazy.\"\n\nShe beguiled him with a glance to one side and a deceptive twitch of her shoulder, and struck like lightning, with a flat sinistre. The blade clanged so powerfully against the parry that Ciri staggered and had to leap to one side, banging her hip against the table with the swords. She involuntarily loosened her grip on the weapon, trying to regain her balance– knowing that at that moment he could have killed her without the slightest difficulty, had he so wished.\n\n\"You have lost your minds!\" Esterhazy said, his voice raised. The whistle was in his hand again. The servants and craftsmen looked on in stupefaction.\n\n\"Put the iron aside.\" Bonhart did not take his eyes off Ciri, utterly ignoring the swordsmith. \"Aside, I said. Or I'll hack off your hand! '\n\nShe obeyed after a moment's hesitation. Bonhart smiled ghoulishly.\n\n\"I know who you are, you viper. But I'll make you reveal it yourself. Byword or deed! I'll make you reveal who you are. And then I'll kill you. '\n\nEsterhazy hissed as though wounded.\n\n\"That sword–\" Bonhart didn't even glance at him\" – was too hefty for you. And because of it you were too slow. You were as slow as a pregnant snail. Esterhazy! What you gave her was too heavy by at least four ounces. '\n\nThe swordsmith was pale. His eyes ran from her to him, from him to her, and his face was strangely altered. At last he beckoned a servant and issued an order in hushed tones." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I've something, \"he said slowly,\"which ought to satisfy you, Bonhart. '\n\n\"Why, then, didn't you show it tome at once? \"snarled the hunter.\"I wrote that I wanted something extraordinary. Perhaps you thought I can't afford a better sword?\"\n\n\"I know what you can afford,\" Esterhazy said with emphasis. \"I've known that for no little time. But why didn't I show you this one right away? I had noway of knowing who you would bring here... on a leash, with a collar around her neck. I couldn't guess who the sword was meant for and what it was to serve. Now I do. '\n\nThe servant had returned, bearing an oblong box.\n\n\"Come closer, girl,\" Esterhazy said softly. \"Look.\"\n\nCiri approached. And looked. And sighed audibly.\n\nShe unsheathed the sword with a deft movement. The fire from the hearth flared blindingly on the blade's wavily outlined edge, glowed red in the openwork of the ricasso.\n\n\"This is it,\" said Ciri. \"As you've probably guessed. Hold it, if you wish. But beware, it's sharper than a razor. You feel how the hilt sticks to your hand? It's made from the skin of a flatfish which has a venomous spine on its tail. '\n\n\"A ray.\"\n\n\"I guess. That fish has tiny teeth in its skin, so the hilt doesn't slide in the hand, even when it sweats. Look what's etched on the blade.\"\n\nVysogota leaned over and examined it, squinting.\n\n\"An elven mandala,\" he said soon after, raising his head. \"The so-called blathan caerme, or garland of destiny: stylised oak blossom, bridewort and broom flowers. A tower being struck by lightning– a symbol of chaos and destruction, for the Old Races... And above the tower–\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"A swallow,\" Ciri completed." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Zireael. My name.\"\n\n\"Indeed, a fine thing,\" said Bonhart finally. \"Gnomish handiwork, that's clear at once. Only the gnomes forged such dark iron. Only the gnomes used undulating blades and only they open-worked their blades to reduce the weight... Come clean, Esterhazy. Is it a replica? '\n\n\"No,\" the swordsmith snapped. \"It's original. A genuine gnomish gwyhyr. The blade is more than two hundred years old. The finishing, naturally, is much more recent, but I wouldn't call it a replica. The gnomes of Tir Tochair made it to my order. Following ancient techniques, methods and patterns.\"\n\n\"Dammit. It maybe too dear for me after all. How much do you wish for this blade?\"\n\nEsterhazy was silent for sometime. His face was inscrutable.\n\n\"I shall give it to her for nothing, Bonhart,\" he finally said in hushed voice. \"As a gift. So that what is to come about, will come about.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" said Bonhart, visibly astonished. \"Thank you, Esterhazy. A kingly gift, kingly indeed... I accept, I accept. I am indebted to you...\"\n\n\"You are not. The sword is for her, not for you. Come here, girl with a collar on her neck. Examine the marks etched into the blade. You don't understand them, naturally. But I shall explain them to you. Look. The line delineated by destiny is winding, but leads to this tower. Towards annihilation, towards the destruction of established values, of the established order. But there, above the tower, do you see? A swallow. The symbol of hope. Take this sword. And may what is to come about, come about. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ciri cautiously extended a hand, and gently stroked the dark blade, its edge gleaming like a mirror.\n\n\"Take it,\" Esterhazy said slowly, looking at Ciri with eyes wide open. \"Take it. Hold it, girl. Take it...\"\n\n\"No!\" Bonhart suddenly barked, leaping up, seizing Ciri by the arm and shoving her suddenly and forcefully. \"Away!\"\n\nCiri fell onto her knees, the gravel of the courtyard painfully pricking her hands, which she had to spread to keep her balance.\n\nBonhart slammed the box shut.\n\n\"Not yet!\" he snarled. \"Not today! The time is not yet come!\"\n\n\"Most evidently,\" Esterhazy nodded calmly, looking him in the eyes. \"Aye, it most evidently hasn't come yet. Pity. '\n\n\"It was of little avail, Illustrious Tribunal, reading that swordsmith's thoughts. We were thereon the sixteenth of September, three days before the full moon. And while we were returning from Fano to Rocayne, a patrol caught us up. Ola Harsheim and seven horse. Mr Harsheim ordered us to race as fast as we could to reach the rest of the unit. For the day before– the fifteenth of September– there had been a massacre in Claremont... I suppose I don't need to tell you; the illustrious tribunal doubtlessly knows about the massacre in Claremont...\"\n\n\"Please testify, without worrying what the tribunal knows.\"\n\n\"Bonhart was a day ahead of us. He brought Falka to Claremont on the fifteenth of September...\"\n\n\"Claremont,\" Vysogota nodded. \"I know that town. Where did he take you?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"To a large house in the town square. With arcades and columns at the entrance. It was obvious at once that a wealthy man lived there...\"\n\nThe chambers' walls were draped with sumptuous tapestries and splendid wall hangings depicting religious and hunting scenes, and idylls featuring disrobed women. The furniture gleamed with inlays and brass fittings, and one sunk ankle-deep into the carpets. Ciri had no time to note the details, though, for Bonhart walked swiftly, dragging her by the chain.\n\n\"Greetings, Houvenaghel!\"\n\nLit by the spectrum of colours cast by a stained-glass window, his back to a hunting tapestry, stood a man of impressive corpulence, attired in a kaftan dripping with gold and a fur-lined coat trimmed with karakul pelts. Although in the prime of his manhood, he had a bald pate and pendulous jowls like those of a great bulldog.\n\n\"Greetings, Leo,\" he said. \"And you, lady-\"\n\n\"That's no lady. \"Bonhart showed him the chain and collar.\"No need to welcome her. '\n\n\"Politeness costs nothing.\"\n\n\"Nothing but time.\" Bonhart tugged the chain, walked up and unceremoniously patted the fat man's belly.\n\n\"You've put on a good deal, \"he remarked.\"By my troth, Houvenaghel, were you to stand in the way it would be easier to jump over you than walk around. '\n\n\"Prosperity,\" Houvenaghel explained jovially, shaking his cheeks. \"Greetings to you, greetings, Leo.\"Tis wonderful to host you, for I am most inordinate joyful today. My business affairs are going so admirably well that I feel like touching wood. The till's a-ringing! Only today, may this serve as an example, a captain in the Nilfgaardian reserve horse, the quartermaster responsible for supplying gear to the front, flogged me six thousand military bows, which I shall retail with a ten-fold profit to hunters, poachers, brigands, elves and diverse other freedom fighters. I also bought a castle from a local marquess...\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Why the hell do you need a castle?\"\n\n\"I must live regally. Getting back to my business affairs: one deal is quite simply thanks to you, Leo. A seemingly hopeless debtor paid me back. Quite literally a moment ago. His hands were shaking as he paid me. The fellow saw you and thought-\"\n\n\"I know what he thought. Did you receive my letter?\"\n\n\"I did.\" Houvenaghel flopped down heavily, knocking the table with his belly and making the carafes and goblets on it ring. \"And I've prepared everything. Haven't you seen the handbills? The rabble must have torn them down... Folk are already heading for the theatre. The till's a-ringing... Sit you down, Leo. There's time. Let's talk, enjoy some wine... '\n\n\"I don't want your wine. It's army issue, no doubt, stolen from Nilfgaardian transports.\"\n\n\"You must be jesting. It's Est Est from Toussaint, the grapes picked when our gracious emperor, Emhyr, was a mere nipper, shitting in his cradle. It was a good year. For wine. Cheers, Leo. '\n\nBonhart silently raised a toasting goblet. Houvenaghel smacked his lips, examining Ciri extremely critically.\n\n\"So this is the doe-eyed nymph,\" he said at last, \"who is to guarantee the sport promised in your epistle? I know that Windsor Imbra is already nearing the town. And has with him several decent cut-throats. And a few local swordsmen have seen the bills...\"\n\n\"Have you ever been disappointed by my wares, Houvenaghel?\"\n\n\"Never,\"tis true. But neither have I had anything from you fora good while. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I work more seldom than in the past. I'm thinking about retiring entirely. '\n\n\"Capital is needed for that, from which to support oneself. I might have away... Will you listen?\"\n\n\"Only for want of other amusement.\" Bonhart pulled a chair closer with his foot and made Ciri sit down.\n\n\"Have you ever thought of heading north? To Cintra, to the Slopes or across the Yaruga? Do you know that anyone who moves there and chooses to settle on captured territory is guaranteed a plot of eight oxgangs by the empire? And freedom from tax fora decade?\"\n\n\"I,\" replied the hunter calmly, \"am not cutout to be a farmer. I couldn't till the soil or breed cattle. I'm too sensitive. The sight of dung or worms makes me want to puke.\"\n\n\"Me too.\" Houvenaghel shook his jowls. \"The only thing I can tolerate in the whole of agriculture is distilling spirits. The rest is repugnant. They say agriculture is the basis of economics and guarantees prosperity. I consider it, however, contemptible and humiliating that something stinking of manure should determine my prosperity. I've taken some steps in that regard. One need not till the soil, Bonhart, one need not raise cattle on it. It's sufficient to own it. If one has enough of it one can extract decent profits from it. One can, believe me, live a life of ease. Yes, I've taken certain steps in that regard, hence, indeed, my question about a trip northwards. For you see, Bonhart, I would have work for you there. Permanent, well-paid, undemanding. And just right fora sensitive fellow like you: no dung, no worms. '\n\n\"I'm prepared to listen. Without committing to anything, naturally. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"From the plots which the emperor guarantees the settlers, one can, with a bit of enterprise and a little seed capital, put together quite a decent latifundium.\"\n\n\"I understand.\" The hunter chewed his moustache. \"I understand what you're getting at. I already see what steps you're taking regarding your own prosperity. Do you see no difficulties?\"\n\n\"Oh, I do. Of two kinds. Firstly, one has to find hired hands, who, pretending to be settlers, will travel north to receive the land from the distributing officers and takeover the plots. Formally for themselves, but in practice for me. But I shall set about finding them. The second of the difficulties concerns you.\"\n\n\"I'm all ears. '\n\n\"Some of the hired hands will takeover the land and then be disinclined to give it up. They will forget about the agreement and the money they have taken. You wouldn't believe, Bonhart, how deeply fraud, wickedness and low motives are ingrained inhuman nature. '\n\n\"I would.\"\n\n\"I will need someone to convince the dishonest that dishonesty doesn't pay. That it's punishable. And you could take care of that.\"\n\n\"It sounds excellent.\"\n\n\"It is. I have experience, I've already conducted rackets of this kind. Following the formal inclusion of Ebbing into the empire, when plots were distributed. And later, when the Enclosure Act came into force. Owing to that, Claremont– this charming little town– is on my land and thus belongs tome. The entire area belongs tome. Far, faraway, to the mist-shrouded horizon. It's all mine. Three hundred oxgangs all told. That's over six thousand acres. Imperial acres, not peasant ones. Twenty-four thousand roods. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"\"O lawless empire, close to downfall\",\" Bonhart recited scornfully. \"An empire where everybody who steals has to fall. Its weakness lies in self-interest and self-seeking.\"\n\n\"Its power and strength lie in it.\" Houvenaghel shook his cheeks. \"You, Bonhart, confuse thievery with private enterprise.\"\n\n\"Only too often,\" admitted the bounty hunter detachedly.\n\n\"What do you say to this partnership, then?\"\n\n\"Isn't it too early to be dividing up that land in the North? Perhaps, to be certain, we should wait until Nilfgaard wins the war? '\n\n\"To be certain? Don't jest. The result of the war is a foregone conclusion. Wars are won with money. The empire has it and the Nordlings don't.\"\n\nBonhart cleared his throat meaningfully.\n\n\"While we're on the subject of money... '\n\n\"Ah yes.\" Houvenaghel rummaged in the documents lying on the table. \"Here's a bank cheque fora hundred florins. Here is the deed of contract for the transfer of obligations, on the strength of which I shall receive the reward for the bandits'heads from the Varnhagens of Geso. Sign here. Thank you. You are also owed a percentage of the takings from the extravaganza, but the accounts have not yet been closed, the till's still a-ringing. There is great interest, Leo. Great, indeed. People in my town are awfully troubled by boredom and despondency. '\n\nHe broke off and looked at Ciri.\n\n\"I sincerely hope you aren't mistaken with regard to this person. That she will furnish us with wholesome amusement... And be willing to cooperate for the sake of our joint profit. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There won't be any profit for her– \"Bonhart eyed up Ciri indifferently,\" – she knows that. '\n\nHouvenaghel grimaced and snorted.\n\n\"It's no good, no bloody good that she knows! She ought not to know! What's the matter with you, Leo? And if she's not willing to be sporting, if she turns out to be spitefully uncompliant? What then? '\n\nThe expression on Bonhart's face didn't change.\n\n\"Then,\" he said, \"we'll unleash your mastiffs into the arena. They've always been compliant where sport's concerned, as I recall. '\n\nCiri was silent fora longtime, rubbing her disfigured cheek.\n\n\"I was beginning to understand,\" she finally said. \"I was beginning to realise what they wanted to do with me. I gathered myself, I was determined to escape at the first opportunity... I was prepared for any risk. But they didn't give me the chance. They were guarding me too well. '\n\nVysogota said nothing.\n\n\"They dragged me downstairs. The guests of that fat Houvenaghel were waiting there. More eccentrics! Where do all these grotesque odd fish come from, Vysogota?\"\n\n\"They breed. Natural selection.\"\n\nThe first of the men was short and chubby, more resembling a halfling than a human, and was even dressed like a halfling– modestly, pleasantly, neatly and in pastel colours. The second man– though no longer young– had the outfit and bearing of a soldier and a sword at his side. Silver embroidery depicting a dragon with batlike wings sparkled on the shoulder of his black jerkin. The woman was fair-haired and skinny, with a slightly hooked nose and thin lips. Her pistachio-coloured gown had a plunging neckline. Which wasn't very well advised. There wasn't much cleavage to show, apart from wrinkled and parchment-dry skin covered in a thick layer of rouge and white lead powder." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Her Noble Ladyship the Marchioness de Nementh-Uyvar,\" Houvenaghel said. \"Lord Declan Ros aep Maelchlad, captain in the Nilfgaardian reserve horse of His Mighty Emperorship of Nilfgaard. Lord Pennycuick, Mayor of Claremont. And this is Mr Leo Bonhart, my relative and former comrade.\"\n\nBonhart bowed stiffly.\n\n\"So this is the little brigand who is to amuse us today,\" said the skinny marchioness, staring intently at Ciri with her pale blue eyes. Years of drinking could be heard in her husky, seductive voice.\n\n\"Not too bad, I'd say. But nicely built... Quite a pleasant little bodikin. '\n\nCiri jerked, pushing off an obtrusive hand, paled with fury and hissed like a serpent.\n\n\"Please don't touch, \"Bonhart said coldly.\"Don't feed it. Don't tease it. I take no responsibility. '\n\n\"A little bodikin–\" the marchioness licked her lips, paying no attention to him\"– can always be tied to abed, to make it more amenable. Perhaps you'd sell her tome, Mr Bonhart, sir? My marquess and I like little bodikins like that, and Mr Houvenaghel is so reproachful when we seize local goose girls and peasant children. In any case, the marquess can't hunt children any longer. He can't run, because of those chancres and warts which have opened up in his crotch-'\n\n\"Enough, enough, Matilda,\" Houvenaghel said softly but quickly, seeing the expression of growing disgust on Bonhart's face.\"We must leave for the theatre. Mr Mayor has just been informed that Windsor Imbra has reached the town with a squad of the Baron of Casadei's infantry. Which means it's time. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Bonhart removed a flacon from a belt pouch, wiped the onyx tabletop with his sleeve and tipped out a small mound of white powder. He pulled on the chain, drawing Ciri closer.\n\n\"Do you know how to use it?\"\n\nCiri clenched her teeth.\n\n\"Sniff it up. Or lick a finger and rub it into your gums.\"\n\n\"No!\"\n\nBonhart didn't even turn his head.\n\n\"You'll do it yourself, \"he said softly,\"or I'll do it, only in away that will supply everybody herewith a bit of entertainment. You don't just have mucous membranes in your mouth and nose, little Rat, but in a few other amusing places. I'll call for servants, have you stripped naked and restrained, and I'll take advantage of those amusing places. '\n\nThe Marchioness de Nementh-Uyvar laughed gutturally, watching Ciri reaching for the narcotic with a trembling hand.\n\n\"Amusing places,\" she repeated and licked her lips. \"What a fascinating idea. Worth trying one day! Hey, hey, girl, have a care, don't waste good fisstech! Leave some for me! '\n\nThe narcotic was much more powerful than the one she'd tried with the Rats. A little while after taking it, Ciri was overcome by a dazzling euphoria; contours were sharpened, light and colours pricked her eyes, smells irritated her nose, sounds became unbearably loud, and everything around her became unreal, as ephemeral as a dream. There were the steps, there were the tapestries stinking of thick dust, there was the husky laughter of the Marchioness de Nementh-Uyvar. There was the courtyard, raindrops falling quickly on her face, and the jerking of the collar she still had around her neck. There was an immense building with a wooden tower and a large, repulsively tawdry painting on the frontage. The painting depicted dogs baiting a monster– neither a dragon, a gryphon, nor a wyvern. There were people outside the entrance to the building. One was shouting and gesticulating." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It's revolting! Revolting and sinful, Mr Houvenaghel, to be utilising a building which was once a place of worship for such an immoral, inhuman and disgusting practice! Animals also feel, Mr Houvenaghel! They also have their dignity! It's a crime to set animal against animal for the amusement of the common folk in the name of profit!\"\n\n\"Calm yourself, you pious fellow! And don't meddle in my private enterprise! In any case, no animal shall be baited today. Not a single one! Exclusively people! '\n\n\"Oh. Then I do beg your pardon.\"\n\nInside, the building was full of people sitting on rows of benches forming an amphitheatre. A pit had been dug in the centre, a circular depression measuring about ten yards across, shored up by hefty posts and topped with a balustrade. The stench and uproar were overwhelming. Again, Ciri felt a tug on the collar, somebody seized her under the arms, somebody shoved her. She suddenly found herself at the bottom of the pit, on firmly packed down sand.\n\nIn the arena.\n\nThe first rush had subsided, and now the narcotic was just stimulating her, sharpening her senses. Ciri pressed her hands over her ears– the crowd occupying the amphitheatre's benches roared, booed and whistled; the noise was unbearable. She noticed that her right wrist and forearm were tightly bound by a leather bracer. She couldn't recall it being fastened to her.\n\nShe heard the familiar hoarse voice, saw the skinny, pistachio-coloured marchioness, the Nilfgaardian cavalry captain, the pastel-toned mayor, Houvenaghel and Bonhart occupying a box perched above the arena. Her hands went to her ears again, as someone suddenly struck a copper gong." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Look, good people! In the pit today there's no wolf, no goblin, no endrega! In the arena today is the murderous Falka from the Rats'gang! The ticket desk by the entrance is taking bets! Don't stint a penny, good people! You can't eat this amusement, you can't drink it, but if you skimp on it you'll not profit, you'll lose out! '\n\nThe crowd roared and applauded. The narcotic was working. Ciri trembled with euphoria. Her vision and hearing were registering everything, every detail. She could hear Houvenaghel's cackle, the marchioness\" husky laugh, the mayor's grave voice, Bonhart's cold bass, the yelling of the animal-loving priest, the squealing of women and the crying of a child. She could see dark patches of blood on the posts encircling the arena and a stinking grill-covered hole gaping in it. And brutishly contorted faces, glistening with sweat, above the balustrade.\n\nA sudden commotion, raised voices, curses. Armed men jostled the crowd, but ground to a halt, stopped by a wall of guards clutching partisans. She'd seen one of the men before– she remembered the swarthy face and the black moustache like a line drawn in charcoal on his upper lip, which quivered in a tic.\n\n\"Mr Windsor Imbra?\" It was Houvenaghel's voice.\"Of Geso? Seneschal of His Noble Lordship, the Baron of Casadei? Greetings, greetings to our foreign guests. Take your places, the spectacle is about to begin. But don't forget, please, to pay at the entrance!\"\n\n\"I'm not here for the sport, Mr Houvenaghel! I'm hereon matters of service! Bonhart knows of what I speak!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Indeed? Leo? Do you know of what the seneschal speaks?\"\n\n\"Do not jest! There are fifteen of us here! We've come for Falka! Hand her over, or things will turn ill! '\n\n\"I don't understand your excitation, Imbra. \"Houvenaghel frowned.\"But I observe that this is not Geso, nor is it within the lands of that mandarin, your baron. Should you make a fuss and incommode us I shall have you driven away with knouts! '\n\n\"I wish to cause no offence, Mr Houvenaghel,\" Windsor Imbra appealed. \"But the law is on our side! Bonhart, here present, promised Falka to His Grace, Baron of Casadei. He gave his bond. And now he must keep it!\"\n\n\"Leo?\" Houvenaghel said, jowls shaking. \"Do you know what he's talking about? '\n\n\"I do and I admit he's right. \"Bonhart stood up, carelessly waving a hand.\"I shan't protest or cause any difficulties. The girl is here, as everybody sees. Whoever wishes to may take her.\"\n\nWindsor Imbra was dumbfounded. His lip trembled intensely.\n\n\"How is that?\"\n\n\"The girl,\" Bonhart repeated, winking at Houvenaghel, \"belongs to the man who wishes to take her from the arena. Alive or dead, as your taste dictates.\"\n\n\"How is that?\"\n\n\"Dammit, I'm gradually losing my patience! \"Bonhart skilfully feigned anger.\"Nothing but'how is that\"! Bloody parrot! How? However you wish! It's up to you; poison some meat and throw it to her as you would a she-wolf. But I can't guarantee she will devour it. She doesn't look stupid, does she? No, Imbra. Whoever wants her must take the trouble of going down to her. Down there, into the pit. You want Falka? Then claim her!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You wave Falka under my nose like a frog on a rod before a catfish,\" Windsor Imbra growled. \"I don't trust you, Bonhart. I can smell the iron hook hidden in that bait! '\n\n\"I congratulate you on your sensitive nose.\" Bonhart stood up, took the sword acquired in Fano from under the bench, drew it from the scabbard and threw it into the arena, so dexterously that the blade stuck vertically in the sand, two paces in front of Ciri. \"There's your iron. Out in the open, not concealed at all. I don't care for the wench, and whomsoever wants to may take her. If they're able. '\n\nThe Marchioness de Nementh-Uyvar laughed nervously.\n\n\"If they're able! \"she repeated in her husky contralto.\"For now the bodikin has a sword. Bravo, Mr Bonhart. It seemed despicable to leave the bodikin defenceless and at the mercy of these good-for-nothings. '\n\n\"Mr Houvenaghel,\" Windsor Imbra said with arms akimbo, not gracing the skinny aristocrat with even a glance. \"This spectacle is being held under your patronage, for it's your theatre, after all. Just tell me one thing. By whose rules and principles are we to play– yours or Bonhart's?\"\n\n\"By theatrical ones,\" Houvenaghel cackled, shaking his belly and bulldog-like jowls. \"For though it's true that it's my theatre, the customer is always right, as he who pays the piper calls the tune! The customer sets the rules. While we merchants must act according to those rules: whatever the customer demands, we must give him.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Customer? You mean these folk?\" Windsor Imbra gestured sweepingly across the packed auditorium. \"All these folk who have paid to marvel at these marvels?\"\n\n\"Business is business,\" Houvenaghel replied. \"If there a demand for something, why not sell it? Do folk pay fora wolf fight? For endrega and aardvark fights? For baiting a badger in a barrel, or a wyvern? Why are you so astonished, Imbra? Folk need circuses and spectacles as they do bread, why, more than bread. Many of those here had it taken from their mouths. Now look at them, how their eyes shine. They can't wait for the games to begin. '\n\n\"But at games,\" Bonhart added, smiling spitefully, \"the appearances of sport must at least be observed. The brock, before the curs drag him from the barrel, may nip with its teeth; that's only sporting. And the girl has a blade. Let it also be sporting here. Well, good people? Am I right? '\n\nThe good people confirmed in an incoherent– though thunderous and joyful– chorus that Bonhart was absolutely right.\n\n\"The Baron of Casadei,\" Windsor Imbra said slowly, \"will not be pleased, Mr Houvenaghel. I tell you he'll not be pleased. I don't know if it's worth your while picking a fight with him. '\n\n\"Business is business,\" Houvenaghel repeated and jiggled his cheeks. \"The Baron of Casadei knows that very well. He has borrowed a deal of money from meat low interest, and when the time comes to borrow more, then we shall somehow smooth over our squabbles. But some foreign lord isn't going to interfere in my private enterprise. Wagers have been laid, people have paid to enter. Blood must soak into that sand, in that arena. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Must?\" Windsor Imbra yelled. \"Bollocks! I'm itching to show you that it doesn't need to at all! For I shall leave here and ride away, without looking back. Then you can spill your own blood! The very thought of supplying this rabble with amusement sickens me!\"\n\n\"Let him go.\" A character with a very low hairline in a horsehide jerkin emerged from the crowd. \"If it sickens him, let him go. It doesn't sicken me. They said whoever does for the she-rat takes the reward. I volunteer to enter the arena. '\n\n\"Not likely!\" one of Imbra's soldiers, a short but wiry and well-built man, suddenly yelled. He had thick, unkempt and matted hair.\"We was first! Wasn't we, boys?\"\n\n\"Yeah!\" chimed in a second, a scrawny one with a pointed beard. \"We have priority! And don't let your sense of honour get the better of you, Windsor! What of it if the rabble is watching? Falka's in the pit, suffice to holdout a hand and take her. And let the peasantry goggle, we don't give a damn! '\n\n\"And we're ready to get something out of it too! \"snickered a third, dressed in a doublet of vivid amaranth.\"Let's make sport of it, am I right, Mr Houvenaghel? Let's make a contest of it! As long as a reward's on offer!\"\n\nHouvenaghel grinned and nodded, proudly and majestically jiggling his pendulous cheeks.\n\n\"Well then,\" asked the one with the goatee curiously, \"are there any wagers?\"\n\n\"As of now,\" the merchant laughed, \"no one has wagered on the result! As of now it's three to one, since none of you dares enter the enclosure. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Huuuh!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Horsehide yelled. \"I dare! I'm minded! '\n\n\"Out of the way, I said!\" Matted Hair roared back. \"We was first and we have first crack. Come on, what are we waiting for?\"\n\n\"How many can go in atone time?\" Amaranth tightened his belt. \"Or is only one at a time allowed?\"\n\n\"You whoresons!\" Quite unexpectedly, the pastel mayor suddenly roared in a powerful voice utterly incongruent with his build. \"Perhaps ten of you want to take on the one of her? On horseback, perhaps? Riding chariots, perhaps? Perhaps you want to borrow a catapult from the armoury in order to hurl boulders at the wench from afar? Eh?\"\n\n\"Very well, very well,\" Bonhart interrupted, after swiftly consulting with Houvenaghel. \"Let it be sport, but let there be entertainment too. We'll say two at a time. You may enter in pairs. '\n\n\"But the reward,\" Houvenaghel warned, \"will not be doubled! If it's two, you'll have to share.\"\n\n\"In pairs? Two at a time?\" Matted Hair flung his cape from his shoulders. \"Are you ashamed, boys? She's just a wench! \"He spat on the ground.\"Stand back. I'll go myself and take her down. Big deal!\"\n\n\"I want Falka alive!\" protested Windsor Imbra. \"A pox on your fights and duels! I won't go along with Bonhart's circus, I want the wench! Alive! You two go in, you and Stavro. And haul her out of there.\"\n\n\"As for me,\" Stavro, the one with the goatee, said, \"it's an insult for two of us to take on that scrawny thing. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"The baron's florins will make that insult more palatable." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But only if she's alive!\"\n\n\"The baron's a miser, \"Houvenaghel cackled, wobbling his belly and bulldog's jowls. \"He doesn't have an ounce of sporting spirit in him. Nor the desire to reward that spirit in others! I, though, champion sport. And hereby increase the reward. Whomsoever enters the arena alone and leaves it on his own two feet, will be paid, by this very hand, from this very coffer, not twenty but thirty florins! '\n\n\"So what are we waiting for?\" yelled Stavro. \"I'm going first! '\n\n\"Not so fast!\" the short mayor roared once again. \"The wench has but thin linen on her back! So castoff that brigandine, soldier. This is sport!\"\n\n\"A pox on you!\" Stavro stripped off the studded kaftan, then pulled his shirt off over his head, revealing a scrawny chest and arms as hairy as a baboon. \"A pox on you, m'lords, and your sodding sport! I'll go in the buff! Shall I takeoff me britches too?\"\n\n\"And your braies!\" the Marchioness de Nementh-Uyvar croaked seductively. \"Then we'll see if you're only manly in word!\"\n\nRewarded by thunderous applause and naked to the waist, Stavro drew his weapon and threw one leg over the barrier, watching Ciri intently. Ciri folded her arms over her chest. She didn't even take a step towards the sword plunged into the sand. Stavro hesitated.\n\n\"Don't do it, \"said Ciri, very softly.\"Don't make me... I won't let you touch me. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Don't begrudge me, wench." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Stavro clambered over the barrier.\"I've nothing against you. But business is-\"\n\nHe didn't complete the sentence, for Ciri was already on him, was already holding Swallow, as she had named the gnomish gwyhyr. She used a very simple, downright childish attack and feint called'three little steps\"– but Stavro was taken in by it. He took a step backwards and raised his sword involuntarily, and was then at her mercy– after stepping back he was leaning against a post and Swallow's blade was an inch from the tip of his nose.\n\n\"That move,\" Bonhart explained to the marchioness, shouting over the roaring and applause, is called'three little steps, a feint and a lunge in tierce\". A cheap trick, I'd expected something more refined from the wench. Though one must admit, if she'd wanted it, the fellow would already be dead. '\n\n\"Kill'im! Kill \"im!\" the spectators bellowed, and Houvenaghel and Mayor Pennycuick pointed their thumbs downwards. The blood had drained from Stavro's face, and the pimples and pockmarks on his cheeks were repugnantly visible.\n\n\"I told you not to make me,\" Ciri hissed. \"I don't want to kill you! But I won't let anyone touch me. Go back where you came from.\"\n\nShe moved back, turned around, put down her sword and looked up towards the box.\n\n\"Are you toying with me?\" she cried, voice breaking. \"Do you mean to force me to fight? To kill? You can't do it! I won't fight!\"\n\n\"Hear that, Imbra?\" Bonhart's sneering voice resounded in the silence.\"Clear profit! And no risk! She won't fight. Thus you can take her from the arena and deliver her alive to the Baron of Casadei, so he can freely amuse himself with her. You can take her without any danger! With your bare hands!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Windsor Imbra spat. Stavro, still standing with his back pressed against the post, panted, gripping his sword. Bonhart laughed.\n\n\"But I, Imbra, beta diamond to a walnut that you can't. '\n\nStavro took a deep breath. The girl standing with her back to him appeared distracted, preoccupied. He was seething with rage, shame and hatred. He couldn't control himself. He attacked. Swiftly and treacherously.\n\nThe audience didn't notice the swerve or reverse thrust. All they saw was the rushing Stavro making a truly balletic leap, after which– less balletically– he fell belly and face down in the sand; sand which was immediately stained red with blood.\n\n\"Instinct takes the upper hand!\" Bonhart shouted over the crowd. \"Reflexes come into play! Eh, Houvenaghel? What did I say? You'll see, the mastiffs won't be needed!\"\n\n\"What a splendid and profitable spectacle,\" Houvenaghel said, closing his eyes in bliss.\n\nStavro raised himself on trembling arms, jerked his head, cried out, croaked, puked blood and slumped down on the sand.\n\n\"What's that blow called, Mr Bonhart, sir? ' the Marchioness de Nementh-Uyvar asked huskily and sensuously, rubbing her knees together.\n\n\"That was improvised.\" The teeth of the bounty hunter– who didn't even look at the marchioness– flashed from beneath his lips.\"An exquisite, inspired and, I'd say, visceral improvisation. I've heard of a place where they teach that kind of improvised butchery. I'll wager our maiden knows it well. Now I know who she is.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Don't make me! \"Ciri screamed, a truly ghastly note trembling in her voice.\"I don't want to! Understand? I don't want to! '\n\n\"You hellish slut!\" Amaranth nimbly vaulted the barrier, circling the arena to distract Ciri from Matted Hair, who was entering from the opposite side. Horsehide cleared the barrier behind Matted Hair.\n\n\"That's fighting dirty! ' roared the halfling-sized Mayor Pennycuick, who was sensitive to fair play, and the crowd yelled with him.\n\n\"Three against one! That's unfair! '\n\nBonhart laughed. The marchioness licked her lips and began to wriggle her legs more urgently.\n\nThe threesome's plan was simple– pin the retreating girl against the posts. Then two would block and the third one kill. Nothing came of it, fora simple reason. The girl didn't retreat but attacked.\n\nShe slipped between them with a balletic pirouette, so lightly she almost didn't touch the sand. She struck Matted Hair in passing, precisely where he ought to be struck: in the carotid artery. The blow was so subtle it didn't jar her rhythm. She ducked away in a reverse feint, so swiftly that not a single drop of the blood gushing from Matted Hair's neck in a two-yard stream fell on her. Amaranth, behind her, aimed to slash across the back of her neck, but his treacherous blow clanged against a lightning-fast parry of her blade, held up behind her. Ciri unwound like a spring, slashing with both hands, amplifying the blow's power with a jerk of her hips. The dark gnomish blade was like a razor, and cut his abdomen open with a hiss and a squelch. Amaranth howled and flopped forward onto the sand, curling up in a ball. Horsehide leaped at Ciri and thrust towards her throat, but she dodged, spun fluidly and struck from close quarters with the middle of the blade, mutilating his eye, nose, mouth and chin." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The spectators yelled, whistled, stamped their feet and bayed for more. The Marchioness de Nementh-Uyvar thrust both hands between her clenched thighs, licked her shining lips and laughed in her nervous drinker's contralto. The captain of the Nilfgaardian reserve horse was as wan as vellum. A woman tried to cover the eyes of her child as he wriggled free. A grizzled old man in the front row vomited loudly and spasmodically, and hung his head between his knees.\n\nHorsehide sobbed, holding his face, as blood mixed with snot and spit poured through his fingers. Amaranth rolled around, squealing like a stuck hog. Matted Hair stopped scrabbling against a post slippery with blood, spurting from him in the rhythm of his heartbeat.\n\n\"Heeelp meeee,\" Amaranth howled, tightly clutching his innards spilling out of his belly. \"Comraaaades! Heeeelp meeee!\"\n\n\"Bheeeh... bhooo... bheeeeh...\" Horsehide spat and snorted blood.\n\n\"Fin-ish-\"im-off! Fin-ish-\"im-off!\" chanted the audience, stamping their feet to the rhythm. The puking old man was shoved from the bench and kicked towards the gallery.\n\n\"A diamond to a walnut,\" Bonhart's sneering bass resounded amongst the racket,\"that none will now dare enter the arena. A diamond to a walnut, Imbra! What am I saying– even to an empty walnut shell! '\n\n\"Kill'em! \"A roaring, thumping of feet and clapping.\"Kill \"em!\"\n\n\"Noble maiden!\" Windsor Imbra shouted, gesturing his subordinates to go forward. \"Let them remove the wounded! Let them enter the arena and take them, before they bleed to death! Have a heart, noble maiden!\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Help keep the tale going for the author.\nTags: fantasy, dark fantasy, chase\nAuthor: Andrzej Sapkowski\nTitle: The Tower of Swallows\nChapter: 14" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He obeyed.\n\nThe first images, in spite of the promise, weren't distinct. They were vague, but so brutal that he stepped back involuntarily. A severed hand on a table... Blood splashed on a glazed surface... Skeletons on skeleton horses... Yennefer, in manacles...\n\nA tower? A black tower? And behind it, in the background... The northern lights?\n\nAnd suddenly, without warning, the image became all too clear.\n\n\"Dandelion!\" Geralt yelled. \"Milva! Angoulême!\"\n\n\"Eh?\" Avallac'h took an interest.\"Ah, yes. You seem to have spoiled everything. '\n\nGeralt leaped back from the cave wall, almost falling over on a basalt plinth.\n\n\"It doesn't bloody matter! \"he cried.\"Listen, Avallac'h, I must get to that druidic forest as quickly as possible...\"\n\n\"Caed Myrkvid?\"\n\n\"Very likely! My companions are in mortal danger there! They're fighting for their lives! Other people are also in danger... What's the quickest way...? Oh, dammit! I'm going back for my sword and horse-'\n\n\"No horse,\" the elf calmly interrupted, \"is capable of carrying you to the Myrkvid grove before nightfall-\"\n\n\"But I-\"\n\n\"I haven't finished yet. Go and get your legendary sword, and meanwhile I'll find you amount. A perfect steed for mountain tracks. It's a somewhat unusual one, I'd say... But with its help you'll be in Caed Myrkvid in less than half an hour. '\n\nThe knocker reeked like a horse– but that was where the similarity ended. Geralt had once seen in Mahakam a mountain goat-riding contest organised by dwarves, which had seemed to be a totally reckless sport. But it was only now, as he sat on the back of the knocker as it hurtled insanely up the cliff, that he learned what true recklessness was." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In order not to falloff, he dug his fingers tightly into the rough shaggy coat and squeezed his thighs against the monster's fleecy sides. The knocker stank of sweat, urine and vodka. It flew as though possessed, the earth thudding under the impact of its gigantic feet, as though its soles were of bronze. Slowing slightly, it climbed up hillsides and pelted down them so fast the wind howled in Geralt's ears. It rushed across ridges, mountain paths and ledges so narrow Geralt kept his eyes tightly closed so as not to look down. It cleared waterfalls, cascades, chasms and clefts too extreme even fora mountain goat, and each successful leap was accompanied by a savage and deafening roar. That is, more savage and deafening than the knocker's usual roar– which was something it did almost constantly.\n\n\"Don't race like that! ' The rush of air shoved the words back down his throat.\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"You've been drinking! '\n\n\"Uuuaaahaaaaaaaa!\"\n\nThey raced on. The wind whistled in his ears.\n\nThe knocker reeked.\n\nThe clatter of immense feet on rock fell silent. Instead, rock fields and scree rattled. Then the ground became less rocky, and something that might have been a dwarf pine flashed by. Then a blur of green and brown, for the knocker was loping in insane bounds through a fir forest. The scent of resin mingled with the monster's stench.\n\n\"Uaaahaaaaaa!\"\n\nThe firs ceased and fallen leaves whispered. Now red, now claret, ochre and golden.\n\n\"Slow down!\"\n\n\"Uaaaahahhahaha!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The knocker cleared a pile of fallen trees with a huge bound. Geralt almost bit his tongue off.\n\nThe breakneck ride ended as unceremoniously as it had begun. The knocker dug its heels into the ground, roared, and tossed the Witcher onto the leaf-strewn forest floor. Geralt lay still fora while and couldn't even curse, from lack of breath. Then he stood up, hissing and rubbing his knee, which had begun to throb again.\n\n\"You never fell off,\" the knocker stated with surprise in its voice. \"Well, well.\"\n\nGeralt didn't comment.\n\n\"We've arrived. \"The knocker pointed with one shaggy paw.\"That's Caed Myrkvid.\"\n\nBeneath them was a basin, densely filled with mist. The tops of great trees showed through the haze.\n\n\"That fog,\" the knocker anticipated the question, sniffing, \"isn't natural. What's more I can smell smoke from over there. If I were you, I'd hurry. Eeeh, I'd go with you... I'm sick with the desire to fight! And I dreamed as a child of one day charging at people with a witcher on me back! But Avallac'h forbad me from showing myself. It's to do with the safety of our whole tribe... '\n\n\"I know.\"\n\n\"Don't bear a grudge that I smacked you in the mouth. '\n\n\"I don't. '\n\n\"You're alright. Fora human. '\n\n\"Thank you. For the lift too.\"\n\nThe knocker bared his teeth among his red beard, and breathed vodka.\n\n\"The pleasure's all mine. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The fog lying on Myrkvid Forest was dense and had an irregular shape, calling to mind a heap of whipped cream squeezed onto a cake by a lunatic cook. The fog reminded the Witcher of Brokilon– the Forest of the Dryads was often covered by a similarly dense, protective and camouflaging magical haze. Like Brokilon it had the dignified and menacing atmosphere of an ancient forest, here at the edge consisting predominantly of alder and beech.\n\nAnd just like in Brokilon, right at the edge of the forest, on the leaf-strewn road, Geralt almost tripped over a corpse.\n\nThe cruelly massacred people weren't druids or Nilfgaardians, and they certainly didn't belong to Nightingale and Schirrú's hassa. Before Geralt had even spied the outlines of wagons in the fog, he recalled that Regis had spoken of pilgrims. It appeared that for some the pilgrimage had not ended happily.\n\nThe stench of smoke and burning, unpleasant in the damp air, became more and more distinct, and pointed the way. Soon after, the way was also indicated by voices. Cries. And the discordant music of fiddles. Geralt made haste.\n\nA wagon stood on the rain-softened road. More bodies lay beside the wheels.\n\nOne of the bandits was rummaging around the wagon, chucking objects and tackle onto the road. Another was holding the unharnessed horses and a third was stripping a foxskin coat from a dead pilgrim. A fourth was sawing a fiddle with a bow– evidently found among the loot– and utterly failing to get even a single pure note from the instrument.\n\nThe cacophony came in useful. It muffled Geralt's steps." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The music broke off abruptly, the fiddle stings whined piercingly, the brigand slammed down onto the leaves and spattered them with blood. The one holding the horses didn't even manage to shout; the sihill severed his windpipe. The third brigand didn't manage to jump down from the wagon. He fell, yelling, with his femoral artery carved open. The last one even managed to draw his sword. But not to raise it.\n\nGeralt shook blood from the fuller with his thumb.\n\n\"Yes, boys,\" he said to the forest and the scent of smoke. \"This was a stupid idea. You oughtn't to have listened to Nightingale and Schirrú. You should have stayed at home. '\n\nHe soon came across further wagons and further victims. Druids in bloodstained white robes also lay among the numerous mutilated pilgrims. The smoke from the now close fire crawled low over the ground.\n\nThis time, the brigands were more vigilant. He only managed to stalk one of them, who was occupied pulling cheap rings and bracelets from the bloody hands of a murdered woman. Geralt, without hesitation, slashed the bandit, the bandit roared, and then the remaining men– brigands mixed up with Nilfgaardians– attacked him, yelling.\n\nHe dodged into the forest, to the foot of the nearest tree, so the trunk would protect his back. But before the brigands could run over, hooves thudded, and from the bushes and fog emerged a mighty horse draped in a caparison with a red and gold diagonal chequered pattern. The horse was carrying a rider clad in full armour, a snow-white cloak, and a helmet with a perforated pig-faced visor. Before the bandits could compose themselves, the knight was already breathing down their necks and carving every which way with his sword, and blood was gushing in fountains. It was a splendid sight." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Geralt didn't have time to watch, however, having two on his hands himself: a brigand in a cherry-red jerkin and a black-uniformed Nilfgaardian." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The brigand exposed himself as he lunged, so Geralt slashed him across the face, and the Nilfgaardian– seeing teeth flying– took to his heels and vanished into the fog.\n\nGeralt was almost trampled by the horse in the chequered caparison, now running and riderless.\n\nWithout delaying, he leaped through the undergrowth towards cries, curses and thudding.\n\nThree bandits had dragged the knight in the white cloak from the saddle and were trying to kill him. One of them, standing with legs astride, was smiting with a poleaxe; the second was striking with a sword; and the third– small and red-haired– was hopping beside them like a hare, seeking a chance and an unprotected place where he could stab with his bear spear. The knight– lying on his back– was yelling incomprehensibly from inside his helmet and deflecting the blows with a shield held in both hands. The shield sank lower with each blow; it was almost resting on his breastplate. There was no doubt. One or two more blows and the knight's innards would burst through every slit in his armour.\n\nGeralt was in the thick of it in three bounds, slashing the hopping red-head with the bear spear across the nape and carving open the belly of the one with the poleaxe. The knight, agile in spite of his armour, whacked the third brigand in the knee with the shield rim, and pummelled him thrice in the face as he lay on the ground until blood sprayed across his shield. He rose onto his knees, fumbled among ferns in search of his sword, buzzing like a great iron-plated drone. He suddenly saw Geralt and froze.\n\n\"In whose hands am I?\" He trumpeted from deep within his helmet." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"In no one's." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The men lying there are also my foes. '\n\n\"Aha...\" The knight tried to raise his visor, but the metal plate was bent and the mechanism had blocked. \"\"Pon my word! Thank you a hundredfold for your succour. '\n\n\"I thank you. For it was you who came to my aid.\"\n\n\"Indeed? When?\"\n\nHe didn't see anything, thought Geralt. He hadn't even noticed me through the holes in that iron pot.\n\n\"What is your name?\" the knight asked.\n\n\"Geralt. Of Rivia.\"\n\n\"Coat of arms?\"\n\n\"It is not the time, sir knight, for heraldry.\"\n\n\"\"Pon my word, \"tis the truth, stout-hearted Sir Geralt.\" Having found his sword the knight stood up. His chipped shield– like the horse's caparison– was decorated with a gold and red diagonal chequered pattern, the letters A and H alternating in the fields.\n\n\"They are not my ancestral arms,\" he boomed in explanation. \"They are the initials of my suzerain lady, Duchess Anna Henarietta. I'm called the Chequered Knight. I'm a knight errant. And forbidden from revealing my name or arms. I have taken knightly vows.\"Pon my word, thanks again for the help, sir knight. '\n\n\"The pleasure's all mine. '\n\nOne of the defeated bandits groaned and rustled in the leaves. The Chequered Knight leaped and pinned him to the ground with a mighty thrust. The brigand's arms and legs waved like a spider impaled on a pin.\n\n\"Let us hurry,\" the knight said. \"The rabble is still raging here.\"Pon my word, it's not time to repose yet!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"True,\" Geralt agreed." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There's a gang marauding through the forest, killing pilgrims and druids. My friends are in a predicament... '\n\n\"Excuse me fora moment.\"\n\nA second brigand was showing signs of life. He was also vigorously pinned and his turned-up feet cut such a caper that his boots fell off.\n\n\"\"Pon my word! \"The Chequered Knight wiped his sword on the moss.\"These good-for-nothings are loath to depart this life! Let it not astound you, sir knight, that I'm finishing off the wounded.\"Pon my word, I've not done it for many years. But these imps recover so swiftly an honest fellow may only envy them. Ever since I happened to cross swords with the same rascal thrice in a row, I began to finish them off more meticulously. Once and for all.\"\n\n\"I understand.\"\n\n\"I– you see– am errant. But not,\"pon my word, erratic! Oh, it's my horse. Come here, Bucephalus!\"\n\nThe forest became more open and brighter; great oaks with spreading but thin crowns began to predominate. They could now smell the smoke and stench of the fire nearby. And a moment later they could see it.\n\nThree cottages with thatched roofs– an entire small settlement– were on fire. The tarpaulins of the nearby wagons were also on fire. Corpses were lying between the wagons; from a distance it was evident that many were wearing white druidic gowns.\n\nThe bandits and Nilfgaardians, drumming up courage by yelling, and concealed behind wagons they were pushing in front of them, were attacking a large house on stilts leaning against the trunk of a gigantic oak. The house was built from robust beams with a shingle roof down which the torches thrown by the bandits were harmlessly rolling. The besieged house was defending itself and striking back effectively– before Geralt's eyes one of the brigands leaned imprudently out from behind a wagon and fellas though struck by lightning with an arrow in his skull." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Your friends,\" the Chequered Knight displayed his acuity, \"must be in that building!\"Pon my word, they're in desperate straits! Onward! Let us hasten to their aid!\"\n\nGeralt heard screeching yells and orders, and recognised the robber Nightingale with his bandaged cheek. He also glimpsed the half-elf Schirrú, hiding behind some Nilfgaardians in black cloaks. Suddenly horns roared, so loudly that leaves fell from the oak trees. The hooves of warhorses rumbled and the swords and armour of charging knights flashed. The robbers fled, yelling, in all directions.\n\n\"\"Pon my word! \"the Chequered Knight roared, spurring on his horse.\"It's my comrades! They're ahead of us! Attack, so a little glory will be left for us! Smite, kill! '\n\nGalloping ahead on Bucephalus the Chequered Knight fell on the fleeing robbers, hacked down two in a flash, and scattered the rest like a hawk among sparrows. Two of them turned towards Geralt, and the Witcher dealt with them in the blink of an eye.\n\nA third shot at him with a Gabriel.\n\nA certain Gabriel, a craftsman from Verden, had invented and patented a miniature crossbow. He advertised them with the slogan'Defend yourself\". His handbill declared'Banditry and violence are rampant among us. The law is powerless and inept. Defend yourself! Don't leave home without a handy Gabriel crossbow. A Gabriel is your guardian, a Gabriel will protect you and your dear ones from bandits.\"\n\nSales were phenomenal. Soon every bandit packed a Gabriel during robberies." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Geralt was a witcher and could dodge a bolt." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But he'd forgotten about his painful knee. His evasive manoeuvre was an inch late, and the leaf-shaped point gashed his ear. The pain blinded him, but just fora moment. The brigand was too slow to reload and defend himself. The furious Witcher slashed him across the hands, and then disembowelled him with a sweeping flourish of his sihill.\n\nGeralt hadn't even managed to wipe the blood from his ear and neck when he was attacked by a small character as agile as a weasel, with unnaturally shining eyes, armed with a curved Zerrikanian sabre which he was twirling with admirable skill. He parried two of Geralt's blows, and the fine steel of the two blades rang and showered sparks. The weasel was alert and keen-eyed– he noticed at once that the Witcher was limping. He immediately began to circle and attack from a more favourable position. He was astonishingly quick. The sabre's blade seemed to wail as he made dangerous diagonal thrusts. Geralt was finding it more and more difficult to avoid the blows. He was limping worse and worse, forced to stand on his aching leg.\n\nThe weasel suddenly hunched forward, jumped, and made a dexterous feint and lunge, slashing diagonally downwards. Geralt parried obliquely and deflected. The bandit spun nimbly, moving from his stance to a nasty cut from below, when he suddenly goggled, sneezed loudly and covered himself in snot, dropping his guard fora moment. The Witcher jabbed him fast in the neck and the blade went in as far as the vertebrae.\n\n\"Well, who'll tell me now, \"he panted, looking at the twitching corpse,\"that taking drugs isn't bad for your health?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A bandit attacking him with a raised club tripped and fell face down in the mud, an arrow sticking out of the back of his head.\n\n\"I'm coming, Witcher! \"Milva screamed.\"I'm coming! Hold on!\"\n\nGeralt turned, but there was no one left to hack. Milva had shot the only brigand remaining in the vicinity. The rest fled into the forest, pursued by the colourful knighthood. Several were being tormented by the Chequered Knight on Bucephalus. He caught them, and his terrible raging could be heard from the forest.\n\nOne of the black-uniformed Nilfgaardians, not finished off precisely, suddenly leaped to his feet and bolted. Milva raised and tautened her bow in a second. The fletchings howled and the Nilfgaardian fell on the leaves with a grey-feathered arrow between his shoulder blades. The archer sighed heavily.\n\n\"We'll hang for this, ' she said.\n\n\"Why do you think so?\"\n\n\"This is Nilfgaard, isn't it? And it's the second month I've been mainly shooting at Nilfgaardians. '\n\n\"This is Toussaint, not Nilfgaard.\" Geralt felt the side of his head, and took away a bloody hand.\n\n\"Dammit. What is it? Have a look, Milva.\"\n\nThe archer examined it carefully and critically.\n\n\"Your ear's been torn off, \"she finally said.\"Nothing to worry about. '\n\n\"Easy for you to say. I was fond of that ear. Help me to bind it with something, it's dripping down my collar. Where are Dandelion and Angoulême? '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"In the cottage, with the pilgrims... Oh, a pox on it...\"\n\nHooves pounded, and from the mist emerged three riders on warhorses, cloaks and pennants fluttering as they galloped. Before their war cries resounded, Geralt had grabbed Milva by the arm and pulled her under a wagon. There was no fooling around with someone charging with a lance, which gave the riders an effective range often feet in front of their horse's head.\n\n\"Get out!\" The knights'mounts churned the earth around the wagon with their horseshoes.\"Drop your weapons and get out! '\n\n\"We're going to hang, ' Milva murmured. She might have been right.\n\n\"Ha, thugs!\" one of the knights, bearing a shield with a black bull's head on a silver field, roared.\"Ha, rogues! \"Pon my word, you shall hang!\"\n\n\"\"Pon my word! \"crowed the other, with a uniformly blue shield, in a youthful voice.\"We'll carve them upon the spot!\"\n\n\"Hi, I say! Stop!\"\n\nThe Chequered Knight emerged from the fog on Bucephalus. He had finally managed to lift his twisted visor, from beneath which luxuriant flaxen moustaches now peeped.\n\n\"Free them with all haste!\" he called. \"They are not bandits, but upright and honest folk. The lady manfully acted in defence of the pilgrims. And that fellow is a goodly knight!\"\n\n\"A goodly knight?\" Bull's Head raised his visor and scrutinised Geralt extremely incredulously.\"\"Pon my word! It cannot be!\"\n\n\"\"Pon my word! \"The Chequered Knight thumped an armoured fist into his breastplate.\"It can, I give my word! This doughty fellow saved my life when I was in need, after I was flung to the ground by ne'er-do-wells. He is called Geralt of Rivia.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Arms?\"\n\n\"I'm forbidden from revealing them, \"the Witcher grunted.\"I can share neither my true name nor my arms. I have taken knightly vows. I am the errant Geralt. '\n\n\"Oooh!\" a familiar insolent voice suddenly yelled. \"Look what the cat dragged in. Ha, I told you, aunty, that the Witcher would come and rescue us!\"\n\n\"And just in time!\" shouted Dandelion, approaching with Angoulême and a small group of terrified pilgrims. He was carrying his lute and the ever-present tube of scrolls. \"And not a second too soon. You have a fine sense of drama, Geralt. You ought to write plays for the stage!\"\n\nHe suddenly fell silent. Bull's Head leaned over in his saddle and his eyes shone.\n\n\"Viscount Julian?\"\n\n\"Baron de Peyrac-Peyran?\"\n\nTwo more knights emerged from behind the oaks. One, in a great helm adorned with a very good likeness of a white swan with outstretched wings, was leading two prisoners in a lasso. The other knight, errant, but practical, was preparing a noose and looking fora suitable bough.\n\n\"Neither Nightingale,\" Angoulême noticed the Witcher's expression,\"nor Schirrú. Pity. '\n\n\"Pity,\" Geralt admitted. \"But we'll try to correct that. Sir knight... '\n\nBut Bull's Head– or rather Baron de Peyrac-Peyran– wasn't paying any attention to him. He only had eyes, it seemed, for Dandelion.\n\n\"\"Pon my word, \"he drawled.\"My eyes do not deceive me! It's Viscount Julian in person. Ha! The Duchess will be pleased!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Who is Viscount Julian?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "the Witcher asked curiously.\n\n\"That would be me,\" Dandelion muttered. \"Don't interfere, Geralt. '\n\n\"Lady Henrietta will be pleased,\" Baron de Peyrac-Peyran repeated. \"Ha,\"pon my word! We shall take you all to Beauclair Castle. But no excuses, viscount. I won't hear of any excuse!\"\n\n\"Some of the brigands fled,\" Geralt spoke in quite a cool tone. \"I suggest we catch them first. And then think about what to do with this day– so interestingly begun. What say you, baron?\"\n\n\"\"Pon my word, \"said Bull's Head, \"nothing will come of it. Pursuit is impossible. The criminals fled across the stream, and we mustn't put afoot over it, not even a scrap of hoof. That part of the Myrkvid Forest is an inviolable sanctuary, in accordance with the compacts entered into with the druids by Her Majesty Duchess Anna Henarietta, who benignly reigns over Toussaint-'\n\n\"The robbers bolted in there, dammit!\" Geralt interrupted, growing furious. \"They're going into that inviolable sanctuary to kill! And you're telling me about some compacts-\"\n\n\"We've given our knightly word! \"It seemed a mutton head would have suited Baron de Peyrac-Peyran's shield better than a bull's head.\"We are forbad! Compacts! Not a single step onto druidic territory! '\n\n\"If they're forbidden, well that's too bad,\" Angoulême snorted, pulling two bandit horses by their bridles. \"Drop that empty talk, Witcher. Let's go. I still have unfinished business with Nightingale and you, I think, would like to talk some more with the half-elf. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I'm with you, \"said Milva.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I'll just find some mare or other.\"\n\n\"Me too,\" Dandelion muttered. \"I'm with you too... '\n\n\"Oh, no, no, no!\" called the bull-headed baron. \"\"Pon my word, Viscount Julian will ride with us to Beauclair Castle. The duchess wouldn't forgive us if after meeting you we didn't bring you to her. I shan't stop the rest of you, you are free in your plans and ideas. As the companions of Viscount Julian, Her Grace, Lady Henarietta, would have gladly received you with all due respect and invited you to stay at the castle, but why, if you scorn her hospitality...\"\n\n\"We scorn it not,\" Geralt interrupted, with a menacing glance restraining Angoulême, who was making insulting gestures with her hand behind the baron's back.\"Far be it from us to scorn it. We shall not fail to pay our respects and due homage to the duchess. But first we will accomplish what we must accomplish. We also gave our word; one might say that we've also made compacts. Once we have carried them out we shall make for Beauclair Castle. We shall unfailingly go there.\"\n\n\"If only,\" he added knowingly and with emphasis, \"to ensure that no disgrace or dishonour befalls our comrade, Dandelion. I meant Julian, by thunder.\"\n\n\"\"Pon my word! \"the baron suddenly laughed.\"No disgrace nor dishonour will befall Viscount Julian, I'm prepared to give my word on it! For I omitted to tell you, viscount, that Duke Raymund died of apoplexy two years past.\"\n\n\"Ha, ha!\" Dandelion shouted, beaming allover. \"The duke kicked the bucket! These truly are marvellous and joyous tidings! I mean, I meant to say, sorrow and grief, a great loss... May the earth lie lightly on him... If that is the case, let's ride with all haste to Beauclair, noble knights! Geralt, Milva and Angoulême, I'll see you in the castle!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "They forded the stream and spurred the horses into the forest, among spreading oaks and stirrup-high ferns." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Milva found the trail of the fleeing gang without difficulty. They rode as quickly as they could, for Geralt feared for the druids. He was afraid the survivors of the gang, feeling safe, would want to seek vengeance on the druids for the massacre sustained from the knights errant of Toussaint.\n\n\"Well, Dandelion's come up trumps, \"Angoulême suddenly said.\"When Nightingale's men surrounded us in that cottage, he told me what he feared in Toussaint.\"\n\n\"I'd guessed, \"Witcher replied.\"I just didn't know he'd aimed so high. The duchess, ho! '\n\n\"It was a good few years ago. And Duke Raymund, the one who croaked, had apparently sworn he'd tear out the poet's heart, have it roasted and make his inconstant duchess eat it for supper. Dandelion's lucky he didn't fall into the duke's clutches while he was still alive. We're also lucky...\"\n\n\"That remains to be seen.\"\n\n\"Dandelion claims that Duchess Henarietta is madly in love with him.\"\n\n\"Dandelion always claims that.\"\n\n\"Shut your traps!\" Milva snapped, reining in her horse and reaching for her bow.\n\nA brigand rushed blindly towards them, without a hat, weaving from oak to oak. He was running, falling over, getting up and running again. And screaming. Shrilly, dreadfully, awfully.\n\n\"What the...?\" Angoulême asked in astonishment.\n\nMilva tautened her bow in silence. She didn't shoot, but waited until the brigand approached and rushed straight for them, as though he couldn't see them. He ran between the horses of the Witcher and Angoulême. They saw his face, as white as a sheet and contorted in horror. They saw his bulging eyes." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What the...?\" Angoulême repeated.\n\nMilva recovered from her astonishment, turned in the saddle and sent an arrow into the fleeing man's back. The brigand roared and tumbled into the ferns.\n\nThe earth shook, making acorns fall from a nearby oak.\n\n\"I wonder,\" said Angoulême, \"what he was fleeing from...\"\n\nThe earth shook again. The bushes rustled and broken branches cracked.\n\n\"What is it?\" Milva stammered, standing up in her stirrups. \"What is it, Witcher?\"\n\nGeralt looked, saw it and sighed loudly. Angoulême also saw it. And paled.\n\n\"Oh, fuck!\"\n\nMilva's horse also saw it. It neighed wildly, reared and then bucked. The archer flew from the saddle and sprawled heavily onto the ground. The horse raced into the forest. Without a second thought the Witcher's steed rushed after it, unfortunately choosing a path under an overhanging oak branch. The branch toppled the Witcher from the saddle. The impact and the pain in his knee almost made him lose consciousness.\n\nAngoulême managed to stay in control of her frenzied horse the longest, but finally she too ended upon the ground and her horse fled, almost trampling Milva as she was getting up.\n\nAnd they saw more clearly the thing that was coming for them. And absolutely, absolutely lost their astonishment at the animals' panic.\n\nThe creature resembled a gigantic tree, a branching, ancient oak; perhaps it was an oak. But if so it was a very unusual oak. Instead of standing somewhere in a clearing among fallen leaves and acorns, instead of letting squirrels scamper over it and linnets shit on it, this oak was marching briskly through the forest, stamping its sturdy roots steadily and waving its boughs. The stout trunk– or torso– of the monster had a diameter of more or less four yards, and the hollow gaping in it was probably not a hollow, but its maw, for it was snapping with a sound like the slamming of a heavy door." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Though the ground trembled beneath its terrible weight, making it difficult for them to keep their balance, the creature was loping through the ravines quite nimbly. And it wasn't doing it aimlessly.\n\nIn front of their eyes the monster swung its boughs, swished its branches and plucked from a pita bandit who was cowering there, just as deftly as a stork plucks a frog hidden in the grass. Entwined in the branches, the thug hung among the boughs, howling pitifully. Geralt saw that the monster was carrying three brigands caught in the same way. And one Nilfgaardian.\n\n\"Run...\" he moaned, vainly trying to stand. He felt as though someone was banging a white-hot nail into his knee with the rhythmic blows of a hammer. \"Milva... Angoulême... Run...\"\n\n\"We won't leave you! '\n\nThe tree creature heard them, stamped its roots joyfully and rushed towards them. Angoulême, vainly trying to lift Geralt, swore hideously. With trembling hands, Milva tried to nock an arrow on the bowstring. Quite pointlessly.\n\n\"Run away!\"\n\nIt was already too late. The tree creature was upon them. Paralysed by terror, they could now see its prey: four robbers, hanging in a tangle of branches. Two were still alive, for they were emitting hoarse croaks and kicking their legs. The third, probably unconscious, was hanging limply. The monster was clearly trying to catch its prey alive. But it had been unsuccessful with the fourth, and it had inadvertently squeezed too hard– which was obvious from its victim's bulging eyes and distended tongue, which was flopping down over a chin soiled with blood and vomit." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The next second they were hanging in the air, tangled in the branches, all three of them howling to high heaven.\n\n\"Graze, graze, graze,\" they heard from below, near the roots. \"Graze, graze, Little Tree.\"\n\nA young druidess in a white robe with a flower wreath on her head strode behind the tree creature, driving it lightly with a leafy twig.\n\n\"Don't harm them, Little Tree, don't squeeze. Gently. Graze, graze, graze.\"\n\n\"We aren't brigands... \"Geralt grunted from above, barely able to produce a sound from his chest, which was being crushed by the bough.\"Order it to let us go... We're innocent...\"\n\n\"They all say that.\" The druidess shooed away a little butterfly fluttering around her brow. \"Graze, graze, graze.\"\n\n\"I've pissed myself... \"Angoulême whimpered.\"I've bloody pissed myself!\"\n\nMilva only wheezed. Her head was lolling on her chest. Geralt swore vilely. It was the only thing he could do.\n\nDriven by the druidess, the tree creature ran jauntily through the forest. During the run, all of the prisoners– at least those that were conscious– teeth were chattering to the rhythm of the creature's leaps, so loudly it echoed.\n\nAfter a short while they were in a large clearing. Geralt saw a group of white-robed druids, and besides them another tree creature. The other had a poorer collection– only three bandits hung from its boughs, and probably only one was still alive.\n\n\"Oh, criminals, malefactors, oh, contemptible ones!\" declaimed one of the druids from below. He was an old man resting on along crosier. \"Observe carefully. See what punishment befalls criminals and base individuals in Myrkvid Forest. Look on and remember. We shall release you, that you might tell others about what you will soon behold. As a warning!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In the very centre of the clearing stood a cage woven from wicker, a great, human-shaped effigy upon a huge pile of logs and faggots. The cage was full of yelling and struggling people. The Witcher could clearly hear the frog-like croaking of the robber Nightingale, hoarse with terror. He saw the face of the half-elf Schirrú, as white as a sheet and contorted in panicked fear, pressed against the wicker lattice.\n\n\"Druids!\" Geralt yelled, puting all his strength into the cry, in order to be heard despite the general clamour. \"Lady flaminika! I am the Witcher Geralt!\"\n\n\"I beg your pardon?\" responded a tall, thin woman with hair the colour of grey steel falling over her back, bound around her brow with a wreath of mistletoe.\n\n\"I am Geralt... The Witcher... A friend of Emiel Regis...\"\n\n\"Again, please. I didn't catch that. '\n\n\"Geraaaaalt! A friend of the vampiiiire's! '\n\n\"Oh! You ought to have said so at once!\"\n\nAt a sign from the druidess, the tree creature put them on the ground. Not very gently. Milva was unconscious, with blood dripping from her nose. Geralt stood up with difficulty and kneeled before her.\n\nThe steely-haired flaminika stood beside them and gave a slight cough. Her face was very lean, even haggard, evoking unpleasant associations of a skull covered in skin. Her cornflower-blue eyes were kind and gentle.\n\n\"I believe she has broken ribs,\" she said, looking at Milva. \"But we shall soon remedy that. Our healers will give her help immediately. I regret what has happened. But how was Ito know who you were? I didn't invite you to Caed Myrkvid or give my permission for you to enter our sanctuary. Emiel Regis vouched for you, admittedly, but the presence of a witcher in our forest, a paid killer of living creatures... '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I shall get out of here without a moment's delay, honourable flaminika, \"Geralt assured her.\"As soon as I-'\n\nHe broke off, seeing druids with flaming torches walking up to the pyre and the effigy full of people.\n\n\"No!\" he cried, clenching his fists. \"Stop!\"\n\n\"That cage,\" said the flaminika, seeming not to hear him, \"was originally meant to serve as a winter manger for starving animals, was meant to have stood in the forest, stuffed with hay. But when we seized those scoundrels, I recalled the nasty rumours and calumnies which people spread about us. Very well, I thought, you can have your Wicker Hag. You made it up as a horrific nightmare, so I shall treat you to that nightmare...\"\n\n\"Order them to stop,\" the Witcher gasped. \"Honourable flaminika... Don't set light to it... One of the bandits has important information for me... '\n\nThe flaminika folded her arms on her chest. Her cornflower-blue eyes were still soft and gentle.\n\n\"Oh, no,\" she said dryly. \"No chance. I don't believe in the institution of turning imperial evidence. Wriggling out of a punishment is immoral. '\n\n\"Stop!\" The Witcher yelled. \"Don't set fire to it! Stooo-'\n\nThe flaminika made a short gesture with her hand and Little Tree, still standing nearby, stamped down its roots and laid a bough on the Witcher's shoulder. Geralt sat down with a thump.\n\n\"Light it!\" the flaminika ordered. \"I'm sorry, Witcher, but it must be thus. We druids cherish and venerate life in all its forms. But sparing the lives of criminals is sheer stupidity. Only terror deters criminals. So we shall give them an example of it. I pin great hopes on not having to repeat this example. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The brushwood caught fire in an instant. The pyre belched smoke and flames leaped up. The yelling and screaming coming from the Wicker Hag made the Witcher's hair stand on end. Of course, it was impossible among the cacophony– made louder by the crackle of the fire– but it seemed to Geralt that he could make out Nightingale's desperate croaking and the high-pitched, pain-filled shrieks of the half-elf Schirrú.\n\nThe half-elf had been right, he thought. Death isn't always the same.\n\nAnd then– after a terribly longtime– the pyre and the Wicker Hag mercifully exploded into an inferno of roaring fire, afire in which nothing could survive.\n\n\"Your medallion, Geralt,\" said Angoulême, standing beside him.\n\n\"Eh?\" He cleared his throat, for his throat was tight. \"What did you say?\"\n\n\"Your silver medallion with the wolf. Schirrú had it. Now you've lost it forever. It'll melt in that heat.\"\n\n\"Too bad,\" he said a moment later, looking into the flaminika's cornflower-blue eyes.\"I'm no longer a witcher. I've stopped being a witcher. I've learned that now. On Thanedd, in the Tower of the Seagull. In Brokilon. On the bridge on the Yaruga. In the cave beneath Gorgon. And here, in Myrkvid Forest. No, I'm not a witcher now. So I'll have to learn to manage without my medallion.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The king loved the queen boundlessly, and she loved him with all her heart. Something so fair had to finish unhappily.\n\nFlourens Delannoy, Fairy Tales and Stories\n\nDelannoy, Flourens, linguist and historian b. 1432 in Vicovaro, in the years 1460– 1475 secretary and librarian to the imperial court. Indefatigable scholar of legends and folktales, he wrote many treatises considered classics of ancient language and literature of the Empire's northern regions. His most important works are: Myths and Legends of the Peoples of the North; Fairy Tales and Stories; The Surprise, or the Myth of the Elder Blood; A Saga about a Witcher, and The Witcher and the Witcher Girl, or the Endless Search. From 1476 professor at the academy in Castell Graupian, where d. 1510.\n\nEffenberg and Talbot, Encyclopaedia Maxima Mundi, Volume IV" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A strong wind blew in from the sea, ruffling the sails, and a drizzle like thin hail stung the voyagers' faces painfully. The water in the Great Canal was leaden, rippled by the wind and flecked by a rash of rain.\n\n\"Come this way, sire. The boat is waiting.\"\n\nDijkstra sighed heavily. He was thoroughly sick of the sea voyage. He'd been delighted by those few moments on the hard and solid rock wharf, and he was pissed off at the thought of stepping onto a wobbly deck once again. But what else to do? Lan Exeter, Kovir's winter capital, differed fundamentally from the world's other capital cities. In the harbour of Lan Exeter, travellers arriving by sea disembarked onto the stone quay only to immediately embark onto another craft; a slender many-oared boat with a highly upturned prow and slightly lower stern. Lan Exeter was built on the water, in the wide estuary of the River Targo. The city had canals instead of streets– and all municipal transportation was by boat.\n\nHe got in, greeting the Redanian ambassador waiting for him by the gangway. The boat was pushed away from the quay, the oars struck the water evenly, the boat moved off and picked up speed. The Redanian ambassador said nothing. Ambassador, Dijkstra thought mechanically. For how many years had Redania been sending ambassadors to Kovir? A hundred and twenty, at most. Fora hundred and twenty years Kovir and Poviss had been foreign to Redania. Though it hadn't always been that way.\n\nFrom time immemorial Redania had treated the countries in the North, on the Gulf of Praxeda, as part of its fiefdom. Kovir and Poviss were– it was said at the Tretogorian court– the greatest protectorates in the'Crown dominions\". Successive earls were called Troydenids, since they were descended– or so they claimed– from their common forebear, Troyden. Prince Troyden had been the natural brother of Radovid I, King of Redania, later called the Great. Even in his youth Troyden was already a lewd and extremely beastly character. People were afraid when they realised he would develop with time. King Radovid– no exception in this regard– detested his brother like the plague. He thus appointed him Earl of Kovir in order to be rid of him, to move him as faraway as possible. And nowhere was further away than Kovir." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Earl Troyden was formally a liegeman of Redania, but an atypical one– he didn't bear any feudal obligations or duties. Why, he didn't even have to take the ceremonial feudal oath! All that was demanded of him was a pledge of \"no interference\". Some said that Radovid simply pitied his brother, knowing that the Koviran'protectorate\" couldn't afford to pay tax or raise armies. Others, though, claimed Radovid simply wanted the earl out of his sight– the thought that his younger brother might turn up in Tretogor in person with money or military aid made him sick. No one knew what was true, but so it was, and so it remained. Many years after the death of Radovid I, the law established by the great king was still binding in Redania. Firstly, the county of Kovir was a vassal, but did not have to pay or serve. Secondly, the Koviran inheritance was in the exclusive control of the House of Troyden. Thirdly, Tretogor did not interfere in the affairs of the House of Troyden. Fourthly, members of the House of Troyden were not invited to Tretogor for ceremonies celebrating state holidays. Fifthly, nor for any other occasion.\n\nEssentially, few knew and few were interested in what went on in the North. News about conflicts between Kovir and smaller northern rulers reached Redania, mainly by a roundabout route through Kaedwen. About alliances and wars; with Hengfors, Malleore, Creyden, Talgar and other lands with difficult-to-remember names. Someone conquered someone else and swallowed them up, someone allied with someone else in a dynastic union, someone routed and subjugated someone else. Essentially: no one knew who, whom or why.\n\nHowever, news about wars and battles lured to the North a whole myriad of brawlers, adventurers, thrill seekers and other restless spirits, looking for plunder and the chance to blow off steam. They were drawn therefrom all the corners of the world, even from countries as distant as Cintra and Rivia. But they were above all citizens of Redania and Kaedwen. Entire cavalry squadrons came to Kovir, in particular from Kaedwen; rumour even trumpeted that the notorious Aideen, the rebellious, illegitimate daughter of the Kaedwenian monarch, rode at the head of one of them. In Redania it was said that designs were forming at the court in Ard Carraigh for the annexation of the northern county and severing it from the Redanian crown. Some even began clamouring for armed intervention." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Tretogor, however, ostentatiously announced that the North didn't interest it." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As the royal jurists deemed, the principle of mutuality applied– the Koviran state had no obligations to the crown, so the crown wouldn't come to Kovir's aid. All the more so since Kovir had never asked for any help.\n\nMeanwhile, Kovir and Poviss had emerged stronger and more powerful from the wars waged in the North. Few knew about that back then. A clearer signal of the North's growing might was a more and more vigorous export market. For decades it had been said of Kovir that the land's only wealth was sand and seawater. That joke was recalled when production from the Koviran foundries and salt works virtually monopolised the world's glass and salt markets.\n\nBut although hundreds of people drank from glasses with the mark of the Koviran foundries and seasoned their soup with Poviss salt, in people's awareness it was still an extremely distant, inaccessible, harsh and hostile land. And, above all, foreign.\n\nIn Redania and Kaedwen, rather than \"go to Hell\" people said \"get to Poviss\". If you don't like working for me, a master would say to his unruly journeymen,\"the path's clear to Kovir\". \"We won't have Koviran order here\", shouted a schoolmaster at his disobedient and boisterous pupils.\"Go mouth off in Poviss\", called a farmer to his son when he was critical of his forefathers\" ard and swidden agriculture.\n\nIf anyone doesn't like the old order,\"the road's open to Kovir\"!\n\nThe recipients of these statements slowly– very slowly– began to ponder them and soon noticed that indeed nothing, absolutely nothing, was barring their way to Kovir and Poviss. A second wave of emigration set off for the North. Just like the previous one, this one mainly consisted of discontented mavericks who were different and wanted things done differently. But this time they weren't troublemakers and misfits at odds with life. Well, at least not all of them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Scholars who believed in their theories, although they had been shouted down and called demented, headed North. Technicians and constructors, convinced that contrary to popular opinion it was possible to build the machines and devices invented by the scholars. Sorcerers, for whom the use of magic to erect breakwaters wasn't a sacrilegious offence. Merchants for whom the prospect of a growth in turnover was capable of exploding the rigid, static and short-sighted limits of risk. Farmers and stockbreeders, convinced that one could create fertile fields from even the worst soil, that it was always possible to breed varieties of animals in a given climate.\n\nMiners and geologists, for whom the bleakness of Kovir's barren mountains and rocks was an infallible signal that if there was such paucity on the surface there must be wealth beneath, also headed North. For nature loves equilibrium.\n\nThere was wealth beneath those wastes.\n\nA quarter of a century passed– and Kovir had extracted as many minerals as Redania, Aedirn and Kaedwen taken together. Only Mahakam surpassed Kovir in the extraction and processing of iron ore, but transports full of metal serving the production of alloys went from Kovir to Mahakam. Kovir and Poviss accounted fora quarter of the world's yield of silver, nickel, lead, tin and zinc, half of the extraction of copper ore and native copper, three quarters of the yield of manganese, chromium, titanium and tungsten ores, and the same amount of metals occurring only in their native form: platinum, ferroaurum, kryobelitium and dimeritium.\n\nAnd more than eighty percent of the world's gold production.\n\nGold, with which Kovir and Poviss bought what didn't grow or wasn't bred in the North. And what Kovir and Poviss didn't produce. Not because they were unable to or didn't have the expertise, but because it didn't pay. A craftsman from Kovir or Poviss– the son or grandson of an immigrant who went therewith a bindle on his back– now earned fourfold that of his counterpart in Redania or Temeria." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kovir traded and wanted to trade with the whole world, on a greater and greater scale. But it couldn't.\n\nRadovid III became king of Redania, and shared with Radovid the Great– his great-grandfather– the same name as well as the same cunning and miserliness. That king– called the Bold by fawners and hagiographers, and Rufus by everybody else– had observed what none before him had wanted to. Why didn't Redania have a single farthing of the gigantic trade engaged in by Kovir? Why, Kovir was just a meaningless county, a fiefdom, a tiny jewel in the Redanian crown. It was time the Koviran vassal began to serve its suzerain!\n\nA wonderful opportunity occurred to do so; Redania had a border dispute with Aedirn, as usual concerning the Pontar valley. Radovid III was determined to take up arms and began to prepare for it. He promulgated a special tax for military purposes, called the \"Pontar tithe\". All of his subjects and vassals were to pay it. Without exception. Kovir included. Rufus rubbed his hands. Ten percent of Kovir's income; that was something!\n\nRedanian emissaries made for Pont Vanis, imagined as a small town with a wooden palisade. They communicated astonishing news to Rufus on their return.\n\nPont Vanis wasn't a small town. It was a great city, the summer capital of Kovir, whose ruler, King Gedovius, sent King Radovid the following answer:\n\nThe Kingdom of Kovir is no one's vassal. Redania's petitions and claims are groundless and based on the dead letter of a law which never had any force. The kings of Redania have never been the overlords of Kovir, for the rulers of Kovir– as can easily be checked in the annals– have never paid Redania tribute, have never carried out military servitude and, most importantly, have never been invited to celebrations of state holidays. Or any others." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Therefore, the King of Kovir informed the emissaries– with regret– that he could not recognise King Radovid as his seigneur or suzerain, much less pay him a tithe. Nor could any of the Koviran vassals or arriere vassals– which were subject exclusively to the Koviran suzerainty.\n\nIn short: let Redania mind its own business and not stick its nose into the affairs of Kovir, a sovereign kingdom.\n\nCold fury welled up in Rufus. A sovereign kingdom? A foreign land? Very well. We shall deal with Kovir as we would any foreign province.\n\nRedania, along with Kaedwen and Temeria– incited by Rufus– applied against Kovir a retaliatory tax and ruthless right of storage. A merchant from Kovir, heading southward, had to, whether he liked it or not, put all his goods on sale in one of Redania's cities and sell it or return home. That same constraint faced a merchant from the distant South, when making for Kovir.\n\nRedania demanded heavy duty on goods which Kovir shipped by sea, even if they were not calling at Redanian or Temerian ports. Koviran ships, naturally, didn't want to pay– and only those who didn't manage to escape paid. The game of cat and mouse begun on the sea quickly led to an incident. A Redanian patrol craft tried to arrest a Koviran merchant, two Koviran frigates appeared, the patrol craft went up inflames. There were casualties.\n\nThe line had been overstepped. Radovid decided to discipline his disobedient vassal. A four-thousand strong Redanian army crossed the River Braa, and an expeditionary force from Kaedwen invaded Caingorn.\n\nAfter a week, the two thousand surviving Redanians crossed the Braa the other way, and the poorly-equipped survivors of the Kaedwenian corps trudged home across the passes of the Kestrel Mountains. This had revealed a further purpose which the northern gold served. Kovir's permanent army consisted of twenty-five thousand professionals seasoned by combat– and banditry– as well as mercenaries drafted from the far corners of the world, unreservedly loyal to the Koviran crown for their exceptionally generous pay and a pension guaranteed by contract. Prepared for any risk for the exceptionally generous bonuses paid out after every victorious battle. Further, these wealthy soldiers were led in battle by experienced, able– and now extremely wealthy– commanders whom Rufus and King Benda of Kaedwen knew very well; they were the same ones who not long before had served in their armies, but had unexpectedly retired and gone abroad." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rufus was no fool and could learn from his mistakes. He quelled his swaggering remaining generals, who were demanding a crusade, ignored the merchants calling fora starvation blockade, and mollified Benda of Kaedwen, who was greedy for blood and revenge for the extermination of his elite unit. Rufus initiated negotiations unrestrained by the prospect of humiliation, by the bitter pill he had to swallow; Kovir agreed to talks, but on their territory, in Lan Exeter. He had to eat humble pie.\n\nThey sailed to Lan Exeter like petitioners, thought Dijkstra, wrapping himself in his cloak. Like humble supplicants. Quite like me today.\n\nThe Redanian squadron sailed into the Gulf of Praxeda and headed towards the Koviran coast. From the deck of the flagship Alata, Radovid, Benda of Kaedwen– and the hierarch of Novigrad accompanying them in the role of mediator– observed in astonishment the breakwaters extending into the sea, above which rose the walls and sturdy bastions of the fortress guarding access to the city of Pont Vanis. And sailing north from Pont Vanis, towards the mouth of the River Targo, the kings saw port alongside port, shipyard beside shipyard, harbour by harbour. They saw a forest of masts and the blinding white of sails. Kovir, it turned out, was prepared for blockades, embargos and duty wars. Kovir was clearly ready to dominate the seas.\n\nAlata sailed into the broad mouth of the Targo and dropped anchor in the stony jaws of the outport. But– to the kings'astonishment– one more trip by water awaited them. The city of Lan Exeter didn't have streets, but canals. The Great Canal, leading from the harbour straight to the royal residence, was the main artery and axis of the metropolis. The kings transferred to galleys decorated in scarlet and gold garlands and a coat of arms on which Rufus and Benda recognised in amazement the Redanian eagle and the Kaedwenian unicorn." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As they travelled along the Great Canal, the kings and their retinues looked around and kept silent. Actually, it ought to be said they were rendered speechless. They'd been wrong to think they knew what wealth and splendour were, that they couldn't be astonished by manifestations of affluence or any display of luxury. They went down the Great Canal, passing the impressive Admiralty building and the Merchants'Guild. They floated alongside promenades packed with colourful and finely attired crowds. They travelled between avenues of magnificent aristocratic residences and merchants\" townhouses, reflecting in the canal's water a spectrum of splendidly embellished, but exceptionally narrow, façades. In Lan Exeter tax was paid on a house's frontage; the wider the frontage, the higher the tax.\n\nOn the steps leading down to the canal of Ensenada Palace, the royal winter residence, the only building with a wide frontage, was already waiting for them a welcoming committee and the royal couple: Gedovius, the king of Kovir, and his wife, Gemma. The couple welcomed the new arrivals courteously, politely... and uncharacteristically. Dear uncle, Gedovius greeted Radovid. Darling grandfather, Gemma smiled to Benda. Gedovius was a Troydenid, after all. Gemma, however, it turned out was descended from the rebellious Aideen, in whose veins flowed the blood of the kings of Ard Carraigh, who had fled from Kaedwen.\n\nThe proven consanguinity improved the mood and evoked affection, but didn't help in the negotiations. By and large what followed were not negotiations. The'children'briefly stated their demands. Their'grandfathers' heard them out. And then signed a document, which posterity called the First Exeter Treaty. To distinguish it from those entered into later. The First Treaty also bears a name in keeping with the first words of its preamble: Mare Liberum Apertum." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The sea is free and open." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Trade is free. Profit is sacred. Love the trade and profit of your neighbour like your own. To hinder someone's trading and profiting is to break the laws of nature. And Kovir is no one's vassal. It's a sovereign, autonomous– and neutral– kingdom.\n\nIt didn't look as if Gedovius and Gemma wanted– even, say, in the name of politeness– to make a single concession, even the slightest, nothing that would have rescued Radovid and Benda's honour. Nonetheless, they did. They agreed for Radovid– during his lifetime– to use in official documents the title of King of Kovir and Poviss, and Benda– during his lifetime– the title of King of Caingorn and Malleore.\n\nOf course, with the proviso de non preiudicando.\n\nGedovius and Gemma reigned for twenty-five years; the royal branch of the Troydenids ended with their son, Gerard. Esteril Thyssen ascended to the Koviran throne. And founded the House of Thyssen.\n\nThe kings of Kovir were soon after bound by blood ties to all the other dynasties of the world, and they all steadfastly abided by the Exeter Treaties. They never interfered with their neighbours'affairs. They never raised the issue of foreign succession, though often historical turbulence meant that the king or prince of Kovir had all possible grounds to judge himself the rightful successor to the throne of Redania, Aedirn, Kaedwen, Cidaris or even Verden or Rivia. The mighty Kovir didn't attempt territorial annexations or conquests, nor did it send gunboats armed with catapults and ballistae into foreign waters. It never seized the privilege of ruling the waves. Mare Liberum Apertum; a sea free and open for trade was sufficient for Kovir. Kovir believed in the sanctity of trade and profit." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And in absolute, unswerving neutrality.\n\nDijkstra put up the beaver collar of his cloak, protecting his nape from the wind and the lashing rain. He looked around, shaken from his contemplations. The water in the Great Canal looked black. In the drizzle and fog, even the Admiralty building– the boast of Lan Exeter– looked like a barracks. Even the merchants' townhouses had lost their usual sumptuousness– and their narrow frontages seemed narrower than normal. Perhaps they are sodding narrower, thought Dijkstra. If King Esterad has raised the tax, the sly householders may have narrowed their houses.\n\n\"Has the weather been so plague-stricken for long, Your Excellency?\" he asked, just to interrupt the annoying silence.\n\n\"Since the middle of September, Count,\" answered the ambassador. \"Since the full moon. It looks as though winter will come early. It has already snowed in Talgar.\"\n\n\"I thought,\" said Dijkstra, \"the snow never melted in Talgar.\"\n\nThe ambassador glanced at him, as if to make sure it was a joke and not ignorance.\n\n\"In Talgar–\" now he showed off his wit\"– the winter begins in September, and ends in May. The remaining seasons are spring and autumn. There's also the summer... it usually falls on the first Tuesday after the August new moon. And lasts until Wednesday morning. '\n\nDijkstra didn't laugh.\n\n\"But even there,\" the ambassador turned gloomy, \"snow at the end of October is a sensation.\"\n\nThe ambassador– like most of Redania's aristocracy– couldn't stand Dijkstra. He considered the need to receive and entertain the arch-spy as a personal affront, and the fact that the Regency Council had charged Dijkstra and not him with negotiations with Kovir as a mortal insult. It sickened him that he, de Ruyter of the most celebrated branch of the de Ruyter family, Grafs for nine generations, should have to address a churl and upstart as \"Count\". But as an experienced diplomat he concealed his resentment masterfully." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The oars rose and fell rhythmically, and the boat glided swiftly along the canal. They had just passed the bijou– but extremely tasteful– palace of Culture and Art.\n\n\"Do we sail to Ensenada?\"\n\n\"Yes, Count,\" confirmed the ambassador. \"The minister of foreign affairs stressed emphatically that he wished to see you immediately on arrival, which is why I'm taking you directly to Ensenada. In the evening I shall send a boat to the palace, for I would like to entertain you over supper-'\n\n\"Your Excellency will deign to forgive me,\" Dijkstra interrupted, \"but my duties won't allow me to take you upon it. I have a prodigious amount of matters to deal with and little time, so I must manage them at the cost of pleasure. We shall sup another day. In happier, more peaceful times. '\n\nThe ambassador bowed and furtively sighed with relief.\n\nHe entered Ensenada, naturally, by a rear entrance. For which he was very glad. An impressive but damned long staircase of white marble led straight from the Great Canal to the main entrance of the royal winter residence, beneath a magnificent frontage supported on slender columns. The stairs leading to one of the numerous rear entrances were incomparably less spectacular, but far easier to negotiate. In spite of that, Dijkstra, as he walked, bit his lip and swore softly under his breath, so that the major-domo, lackeys and guardsmen escorting him wouldn't hear.\n\nMore stairs and more climbing awaited him inside the palace. Dijkstra cursed again sotto voce. Probably the damp, cold and uncomfortable position in the boat was why his leg, with its smashed and magically healed ankle, had begun to make itself known with a dull, nagging pain. And a nasty memory. Dijkstra ground his teeth. He knew that the Witcher– the man responsible for his suffering– had also had his bones broken. He had profound hopes that they also pained the Witcher and wished in his heart of hearts that it would pain him as long and as severely as possible." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Dusk had already fallen outside and Ensenada's corridors were dark." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The route Dijkstra was taking behind a silent major-domo was, nonetheless, lit by a sparse row of lackeys with candlesticks. And outside the doors of the chamber to which the major-domo was leading him stood guardsmen with halberds, so erect it seemed spare halberds had been stuck up their backsides. The lackeys with candles stood more densely there, so the luminance was blinding. Dijkstra was somewhat astonished by the pomp with which he was being received.\n\nHe entered the chamber and immediately stopped being astonished. He bowed low.\n\n\"Greetings to you, Dijkstra,\" said Esterad Thyssen, King of Kovir, Poviss, Narok, Velhad and Talgar. \"Don't standby the door, come closer. Put etiquette aside, it's an unofficial audience.\"\n\n\"Your Majesty.\"\n\nEsterad's wife, Queen Zuleyka, responded to Dijkstra's reverential bow with a slightly absent-minded nod, not interrupting her crocheting fora moment.\n\nThere wasn't a soul in the chamber apart from the royal couple.\n\n\"Precisely.\" Esterad had noticed his glance. \"Just the two of us will chat. I beg your pardon, just the three of us. For something tells me it'll be better this way. '\n\nDijkstra sat down on the scissors chair indicated, opposite Esterad. The king was wearing a crimson ermine-trimmed cape and a matching velvet chapeau. Like all the men of the Thyssen clan he was tall, powerfully built and devilishly handsome. He always looked robust and healthy, like a sailor just returned from the sea; one could almost smell the seawater and cold, salt wind coming from him. As with all the Thyssens it was difficult to determine his exact age. Judging by his hair, skin and hands– the features which most clearly express one's age– Esterad might have passed for forty-five. Dijkstra knew the king was fifty-six." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Zuleyka.\" The king leaned over towards his wife. \"Look at him. If you didn't know he was a spy, would you give credence to it? '\n\nQueen Zuleyka was short, quite stout and pleasantly plain. She dressed in quite atypical way for women of her looks, which was based on selecting elements of attire so that no one would guess she wasn't her own grandmother. Zuleyka achieved this effect by wearing loose-fitting gowns, dull of cut and grey-brown of tone. On her head she wore a bonnet inherited from her ancestors. She didn't use any makeup and didn't wear any jewellery.\n\n\"The Good Book,\" she spoke in a quiet and sweet little voice, \"teaches us circumspection in judging our neighbours. For one day they will judge us, too. Let's hope not on the basis of appearance. '\n\nEsterad Thyssen favoured his wife with a warm look. It was widely known that he loved her boundlessly, with a love which for twenty-nine years of marriage hadn't dimmed a jot. On the contrary, as the years passed it blazed brighter and hotter. Esterad, it was claimed, had never betrayed Zuleyka. Dijkstra couldn't really believe in anything so unlikely, but himself had tried three times to plant on– or virtually place under– the king stunning female agents, candidates for favourites, superb sources of information. Nothing had come of it.\n\n\"I like to speak bluntly,\" said the king, \"therefore I shall reveal at once, Dijkstra, why I've decided to talk to you personally. There are several reasons. Firstly, I know you won't shrink from bribery. I'm certain, by and large, of my ministers, but why put them to the test, lead them into temptation? What kind of bribe did you intend to offer the minister of foreign affairs? '" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Continue the story as the author's writing assistant.\nTags: fantasy, dark fantasy, chase\nAuthor: Andrzej Sapkowski\nTitle: The Tower of Swallows\nChapter: 16" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Zuleyka.\" The king leaned over towards his wife. \"Look at him. If you didn't know he was a spy, would you give credence to it? '\n\nQueen Zuleyka was short, quite stout and pleasantly plain. She dressed in quite atypical way for women of her looks, which was based on selecting elements of attire so that no one would guess she wasn't her own grandmother. Zuleyka achieved this effect by wearing loose-fitting gowns, dull of cut and grey-brown of tone. On her head she wore a bonnet inherited from her ancestors. She didn't use any makeup and didn't wear any jewellery.\n\n\"The Good Book,\" she spoke in a quiet and sweet little voice, \"teaches us circumspection in judging our neighbours. For one day they will judge us, too. Let's hope not on the basis of appearance. '\n\nEsterad Thyssen favoured his wife with a warm look. It was widely known that he loved her boundlessly, with a love which for twenty-nine years of marriage hadn't dimmed a jot. On the contrary, as the years passed it blazed brighter and hotter. Esterad, it was claimed, had never betrayed Zuleyka. Dijkstra couldn't really believe in anything so unlikely, but himself had tried three times to plant on– or virtually place under– the king stunning female agents, candidates for favourites, superb sources of information. Nothing had come of it.\n\n\"I like to speak bluntly,\" said the king, \"therefore I shall reveal at once, Dijkstra, why I've decided to talk to you personally. There are several reasons. Firstly, I know you won't shrink from bribery. I'm certain, by and large, of my ministers, but why put them to the test, lead them into temptation? What kind of bribe did you intend to offer the minister of foreign affairs? '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"A thousand Novigradian crowns,\" the spy responded without batting an eyelid. \"Were he to haggle, I'd have gone up to a thousand five hundred. '\n\n\"And that's why I like you, \"Esterad Thyssen said after moment's silence. \"You're a dreadful whoreson. You remind me of my youth. I look at you and see myself at your age. '\n\nDijkstra thanked him with a bow. He was just eight years younger than the king. He was convinced that Esterad was well aware of it.\n\n\"You're a dreadful whoreson, \"the king repeated, growing serious.\"But a respectable and decent one. And that's a rarity in these rotten times.\"\n\nDijkstra bowed once more.\n\n\"You see,\" Esterad continued, \"in every country one may encounter people who are blind fanatics for the idea of social order. People committed to an idea, prepared to do anything for it. Including crime, for to them the aim justifies the means and changes the meaning of concepts. They don't murder, they rescue order. They don't torture, they don't blackmail: they safeguard the national interest and fight for order. For such people, the life of an individual– should that individual violate the dogma of the established order– is not worth a farthing or a shrug. People like that don't acknowledge the fact that the society they serve is made up of individuals. People like that are availed of the so-called'broad\" view... and such a view is the most certain way of not noticing other people.\"\n\n\"Nicodemus de Boot,\" Dijkstra blurted out.\n\n\"Close, but wide of the mark.\" The king of Kovir bared his alabaster-white teeth. \"It was Vysogota of Corvo. A lesser known, but also able, ethicist and philosopher. Read him. I recommend it. Perhaps one of his books has survived in Redania. Perhaps you didn't burn them all? Come, come, let's get to the point. You, Dijkstra, are also unscrupulous in your use of intrigue, bribery, blackmail and torture. You don't bat an eyelid when condemning someone to death or ordering an assassination. That fact you do it for the kingdom you faithfully serve does not excuse you or make you anymore pleasant in my eyes. Not in the slightest. Be aware of that. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The spy nodded as a sign that he was.\n\n\"You are, though,\" Esterad continued, \"as it's been said before, a whoreson of upright character. And that's why I like and respect you, why I've granted you a private audience. For you, Dijkstra, having had a million opportunities, have never done anything for private gain or stolen so much as a ha'penny from the state coffers. Not even a farthing. Zuleyka, look! Is he blushing, or am I deceived?\"\n\nThe queen raised her head from her crocheting.\n\n\"Their righteousness shall be known from their modesty.\" She quoted a passage from the Good Book, although she must have seen that not even a trace of a blush had appeared on the spy's features.\n\n\"Very well,\" Esterad said. \"To business. Time to move to state affairs. He, Zuleyka, crossed the sea motivated by his patriotic duty. Redania, his fatherland, is threatened. Chaos rages there, following the tragic death of King Vizimir. Redania is now governed by a band of aristocratic idiots, calling themselves the Regency Council. That band, my Zuleyka, will do nothing for Redania. In the face of danger it will either bolt or begin obsequiously to grovel before the pearl-trimmed slippers of the Nilfgaardian Emperor. That band despises Dijkstra, for he's a spy, a murderer, an upstart and a boor. But Dijkstra crossed the sea to save his country. Demonstrating who really cares about Redania. '\n\nEsterad Thyssen fell silent, exhaled loudly, wearied by his speech, and adjusted his crimson chapeau, which had slipped down slightly over his nose." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well, Dijkstra,\" he continued. \"What ails your kingdom? Aside from a shortage of money, naturally?\"\n\n\"Aside from a shortage of money,\" the spy's face was inscrutable,\"all are well, thank you. '\n\n\"Aha,\" the king nodded. His chapeau once more slipped down over his nose and had to be adjusted again. \"Aha. I comprehend.\"\n\n\"I comprehend,\" he continued. \"And I applaud the idea. When one has money, one may purchase medicaments for every affliction. The crux is to have the money. Which you do not. If you did, you wouldn't be here. Do I understand correctly? '\n\n\"Impeccably.\"\n\n\"And how much do you need, I wonder?\"\n\n\"Not much. A million bizants.\"\n\n\"Not much?\" Esterad Thyssen grasped his chapeau in both hands in an exaggerated gesture. \"You call that not much? Oh, my!\"\n\n\"But for Your Royal Highness,\" the spy mumbled, \"such a sum is a trifle-\"\n\n\"A trifle?\" The king released his chapeau and raised his hands towards the ceiling. \"Oh, my! A million bizants is a trifle. Do you hear, Zuleyka, what he's saying? And do you know, Dijkstra, that to have a million and not to have a million, is two million together? I understand, I comprehend, that you and Philippa Eilhart are looking desperately and feverishly for an idea to defend yourselves against Nilfgaard, but what do you want? Do you plan to buy the whole of Nilfgaard? '\n\nDijkstra did not reply. Zuleyka crocheted on. Fora moment Esterad pretended to be admiring the nude nymphs on the ceiling." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Come along.\" He suddenly rose and nodded to the spy. They walked over to a huge painting portraying King Gedovius sitting astride a grey horse, pointing out something which wasn't included on the canvas to the army with his sceptre, probably indicating the right direction. Esterad fished a tiny, gilded wand from his pocket, tapped the frame of the picture with it, and murmured a spell in hushed tones. Gedovius and his grey horse vanished, and a relief map of the known world appeared. The king touched a silver button in the corner of the map with his wand and magically transformed the scale, narrowing the visible sweep of the world to the Yaruga Valley and the Four Kingdoms.\n\n\"The blue is Nilfgaard,\" he explained. \"The red is you. What are you gawping at? Look here!\"\n\nDijkstra tore his gaze away from the other paintings– chiefly nudes and seascapes. He wondered which was the magical camouflage for another notorious map of Esterad's: the one which depicted Kovir's military and trade intelligence service, an entire network of bribed informers and blackmailed individuals, agents, operational contacts, saboteurs, hired killers, moles and active resident spies. He knew such a map existed; he had been trying unsuccessfully for many years to gain access to it.\n\n\"The red is you,\" Esterad Thyssen repeated. \"Looks pretty hopeless, doesn't it? '\n\nYup, pretty hopeless, Dijkstra admitted to himself. Lately he had been continuously looking at strategic maps, but now, on Esterad's relief map, the situation seemed even worse. The blue squares formed themselves into the shape of terrible dragon's jaws, liable at any moment to snatch and crush the small, miserable red squares in its great teeth." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Esterad Thyssen looked around for something that might serve as a pointer for the map, finally drawing a decorative rapier from the nearest panoply.\n\n\"Nilfgaard,\" he began his lecture, pointing appropriately with the rapier, \"has attacked Lyria and Aedirn, declaring an assault on the border fort Glevitzingen as a casus belli. I'm not going to investigate who really attacked Glevitzingen wearing which disguise. It's also senseless to speculate how many days or hours Emhyr's armed operation occurred before the analogical undertakings by Aedirn and Temeria. I shall leave that to the historians. I'm more interested in the situation today and what it will be tomorrow. At this very moment Nilfgaard is in Dol Angra and Aedirn, shielded by a buffer in the shape of the elven dominium in Dol Blathanna, bordering with that part of Aedirn which King Henselt of Kaedwen, speaking vividly, tore from Emhyr's teeth and himself devoured. '\n\nDijkstra made no comment.\n\n\"I shall also leave amoral judgement of King Henselt's campaign to the historians, \"Esterad continued.\"But a single glance at the map is sufficient to see that by annexing the Northern Marches Henselt barred Emhyr's way to the Pontar Valley. He secured Temeria's flank. And yours, the Redanians. You ought to thank him. '\n\n\"I did,\" Dijkstra muttered. \"But quietly. King Demawend of Aedirn is our guest in Tretogor. And Demawend has quite a precise moral judgement of Henselt's deed. He customarily expresses it in blunt and ringing words. '\n\n\"I can imagine,\" the King of Kovir nodded. \"Let's leave it for now, and glance at the South, at the River Yaruga. Attacking in Dol Angra, Emhyr simultaneously secured his flank by concluding a separatist treaty with Foltest of Temeria. But immediately after the end of the military operations in Aedirn the emperor broke the pact without further ado and struck Brugge and Sodden. Through his cowardly negotiations Foltest gained two weeks of peace. Sixteen days to be precise. And it's the twenty-sixth of October today.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It is.\"\n\n\"Thus the situation on the twenty-sixth of October is as follows. Brugge and Sodden occupied. The strongholds of Razvan and Mayena fallen. Temeria's army defeated in the Battle of Maribor and repulsed northwards. Maribor besieged. This morning it was still holding out. But it's already late evening, Dijkstra.\"\n\n\"Maribor will holdout. The Nilfgaardians didn't manage to seal it off. '\n\n\"True. They advanced too far, they overextended their supply lines, they're imprudently exposing their flanks. They will call off the siege before the winter, withdrawing towards the Yaruga, shortening the front. But what will happen in the spring, Dijkstra? What will happen when the grass peeps out from under the snow? Come closer. Look at the map. '\n\nDijkstra looked.\n\n\"Look at the map,\" the king repeated. \"And I shall tell you what Emhyr var Emreis will do in the spring.\"\n\n\"They will begin an offensive on an unparalleled scale,\" announced Carthia van Canten, adjusting her golden curls in front of the looking glass. \"Oh, I know that information isn't sensational in itself. Old women enliven their laundry at every town well with stories about the spring offensive. '\n\nAssire var Anahid was unusually tetchy and impatient today, but nonetheless managed not to ask why, in that case, she was bothering her with such unsensational information. But she knew Cantarella. And if Cantarella started talking about something she had her reasons. And she usually finished her statements with conclusions.\n\n\"I know a little more than the hoipolloi, however,\" Cantarella continued. \"Vattier told me everything, about the entire council with the emperor. And in addition brought me a whole briefcase of maps. When he fell asleep I examined them... Shall I goon?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But of course, my dear.\" Assire squinted.\n\n\"The thrust of the main strike is, of course, Temeria. The border of the River Pontar, along the line Novigrad-Vizima-Ellander. A force of the Central Army, under the command of Menno Coehoorn, will strike. A force of the Eastern Army will secure the flank, striking the Pontar Valley and Kaedwen from Aedirn...\"\n\n\"Kaedwen?\" Assire raised an eyebrow. \"Is that the end of the fragile friendship struck up during the sharing of spoils?\"\n\n\"Kaedwen is threatening the right flank.\" Carthia van Canten pouted slightly with her full lips. Her doll-like face was in striking contrast to the strategic grasp she was demonstrating. \"The strike is of a preventive character. Assigned units of a group from the Eastern Army are to bind King Henselt's army, to remove any thoughts of helping Temeria.\n\n\"The Verden special operations group will strike in the west,\" the blonde woman continued, \"with the task of capturing Cidaris and tightly sealing off the blockade of Novigrad, Gors Velen and Vizima. For the General Staff is taking into account the necessity of besieging those three strongholds.\"\n\n\"You didn't name the two armies'commanders.\"\n\n\"The Eastern Group, Ardal aep Dahy.\" Cantarella smiled slightly. \"The Verden Group, Joachim de Wett.\"\n\nAssire raised her eyebrows.\n\n\"How interesting,\" she said. \"Two princes, offended by the removal of their daughters from Emhyr's matrimonial plans. Our emperor is either very naive, or very cunning. '\n\n\"If Emhyr knows anything about a plot by the princes,\" said Cantarella, \"it's not from Vattier. Vattier told him nothing. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Go on.\"\n\n\"The offensive will be on an unprecedented scale. Taken together, including front line units, reserves, auxiliary and rear services, over three hundred thousand men will betaking part in the operation. And elves, naturally.\"\n\n\"Scheduled start date?\"\n\n\"Not yet set. Supplies area key issue. Supplies means clear roads, and no one can predict when the winter will finish.\"\n\n\"What else did Vattier speak of?\"\n\n\"He was complaining, poor thing.\" Cantarella flashed her little teeth. \"Complaining that the emperor had abused and reprimanded him again. Publically. The reason again was the mysterious disappearance of Stefan Skellen and his entire unit. Emhyr publically called Vattier a clot, said he was ahead of a department which, rather than making people disappear without trace, are surprised by such disappearances. He constructed on the subject a malicious equivoque which Vattier, sadly, wasn't able to repeat exactly. Then the emperor asked Vattier in jest if his failure meant some other secret organisation had been setup, kept confidential even from him. Our imperator is sharp. He's close to the target.\"\n\n\"He is,\" Assire murmured. \"What else, Carthia?\"\n\n\"The agent Vattier had in Skellen's unit– who also vanished– was called Neratin Ceka. Vattier must have thought very highly of him, because he's extremely dejected over his disappearance.\"\n\nI, thought Assire, am also left dejected by the disappearance of Jediah Mekesser. But I, unlike Vattier de Rideaux, will find out what happened.\n\n\"And Rience? Has Vattier met him again?\"\n\n\"No. He didn't mention it. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They were both briefly silent. The cat in Assire's lap purred loudly.\n\n\"Madam Assire.\"\n\n\"Yes, Carthia?\"\n\n\"Will I have to play the role of the foolish lover much longer? I'd like to return to my studies, devote myself to scholarly work-'\n\n\"Soon,\" Assire interrupted. \"Just a little longer. Hold on, my child.\"\n\nCantarella sighed.\n\nThey finished their conversation and bade each other farewell. Assire var Anahid shooed the cat from the armchair and reread the letter from Fringilla Vigo, who was residing in Toussaint. She fell into pensive mood, for the letter had troubled her. It bore some message between the lines which Assire sensed, but couldn't grasp. It was after midnight when Assire var Anahid, the Nilfgaardian sorceress, started up the megascope and established telecommunication with Montecalvo Castle in Redania.\n\nPhilippa Eilhart was in a skimpy nightdress with very thin straps, and had lipstick traces on her cheek and cleavage. Assire made an immense effort of will to suppress a grimace of distaste. Never, ever, will I be capable of understanding it, she thought. And I don't want to understand it.\n\n\"May we talk freely?\"\n\nPhilippa made a sweeping hand movement, encircling herself in a sphere of discretion.\n\n\"We can now.\"\n\n\"I have information,\" Assire began dryly. \"It isn't sensational in and of itself, even old women at wells are talking about it. Nonetheless... '\n\n\"The whole of Redania,\" said Esterad Thyssen, looking at his map, \"can at this moment field thirty-five thousand frontline troops, of whom four thousand are heavy armoured cavalry. Reckoning roughly, of course.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dijkstra nodded. The arithmetic was absolutely precise.\n\n\"Demawend and Meve had a similar army. Emhyr annihilated it in twenty-six days. The same thing will happen to the armies of Redania and Temeria if you don't reinforce them. I support your idea, Dijkstra, yours and Philippa Eilhart's. You're in need of troops. You require valorous, well-drilled and well-equipped cavalry. You need the kind of cavalry that costs around a million bizants. '\n\nThe spy nodded, confirming that this calculation couldn't be faulted either.\n\n\"As you no doubt know,\" the king continued dryly, \"Kovir has always been, is, and will be neutral. We are bound by a treaty with the Nilfgaardian Empire, signed by my grandfather, Esteril Thyssen, and the imperator Fergus var Emreis. The letter of that treaty does not permit Kovir to support the enemies of Nilfgaard with military aid. Nor with money for troops.\"\n\n\"When Emhyr var Emreis throttles Temeria and Redania,\" coughed Dijkstra, \"he'll look to the North. Emhyr won't be satisfied. It may turnout that your treaty won't be worth a hill of beans. A moment ago the talk was of Foltest of Temeria, who managed– by negotiations– to buy himself a mere sixteen days of peace with Nilfgaard-'\n\n\"Oh, my dear,\" Esterad snapped. \"One cannot argue like that. Treaties are like marriage: they aren't entered into with the thought of betrayal, and once they're concluded one shouldn't be suspicious. And if that doesn't suit somebody, they shouldn't get married. Because you can't become a cuckold without being a husband, but you'll admit that fear of wearing the horns is a pitiful and quite ridiculous justification for enforced celibacy. And cuckolds aren't a subject for discussion in a marriage. As long as one doesn't wear horns, that subject isn't mentioned, and if one's already wearing them, then there's nothing to say. And since we're talking about horns, how is the husband of the fair Marie, the Marquess de Mercey, the Redanian Minister of Finances? '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Your Majesty,\" Dijkstra bowed stiffly, \"has enviable informants.\"\n\n\"Indeed I do,\" the king conceded. \"You'd be astonished how many and how enviable. But you, too, can't be ashamed of your own. Those you have at my courts, here and in Pont Vanis. Oh, I'll wager each of them deserves top marks. '\n\nDijkstra didn't even blink.\n\n\"Emhyr var Emreis,\" Esterad continued, looking at the nymphs on the ceiling, \"also has a few good and well placed agents. Which is why I repeat: Kovir's raison d'état is neutrality and the principle of pacta sunt servanda. Kovir doesn't break treaties. Not even in anticipation of the other side breaking a contract. '\n\n\"May I observe,\" Dijkstra said, \"that Redania isn't urging Kovir to break pacts. Redania is by no means seeking an alliance or military aid against Nilfgaard. Redania wishes... to borrow a small sum, which we shall return-'\n\n\"I can just see you returning it,\" the king interrupted. \"But these are academic deliberations, for I shan't loan you a farthing. And don't ply me with duplicitous casuistry, Dijkstra, it suits you like a bib suits a wolf. Do you have any other, serious, intelligent and apposite arguments?\"\n\n\"I do not.\"\n\n\"You were lucky,\" Esterad Thyssen said after moment's silence,\"that you became a spy. You'd never have made a career in commerce.\"\n\nThe length and breadth of the world, all royal couples had separate bedchambers. The kings– with extremely varying frequency– visited the queens'bedchambers, and it also happened that queens paid unexpected visits to the kings\" bedchambers. Afterwards the spouses returned to their own chambers and beds." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The royal couple of Kovir were an exception in this respect too. Esterad Thyssen and Zuleyka always slept together– in one bedchamber, on an immense bed with an immense canopy.\n\nBefore falling asleep, Zuleyka– after putting on her spectacles, in which she was ashamed to appear before her subjects– customarily read her Good Book. Esterad Thyssen usually talked.\n\nThat night was no different. Esterad put on his nightcap and picked up his sceptre. He liked to hold his sceptre and play with it; he didn't do it officially for he feared his subjects would accuse him of being pretentious.\n\n\"You know, Zuleyka,\" he said, \"lately I've been having queer dreams. I've dreamed of that witch, my mother, I don't know how many times. She stands over me and repeats: \"I have a wife for Tankred, I have a wife for Tankred\". And she shows me a pretty, but very young girl. And do you know, Zuleyka, who that girl is? It's Ciri, Calanthe's granddaughter. Do you remember Calanthe, Zuleyka? '\n\n\"I do, my husband.\"\n\n\"Ciri,\" Esterad went on, playing with the sceptre, \"is the one Emhyr var Emreis reputedly wants to marry. A bizarre marriage, astonishing... How, damn it, ought she to be a wife for Tankred?\"\n\n\"Tankred–\" Zuleyka's voice faintly altered, as it did whenever she spoke of her son\" – could do with a wife. Perhaps he would settle down... '\n\n\"Perhaps,\" Esterad sighed. \"Though I doubt it, but perhaps. In any case, matrimony is some sort of chance. Hmmm... Ciri... Ha! Kovir and Cintra. The Yaruga estuary! Doesn't sound at all bad, not at all bad. An alliance would be fine... A nice little coalition... Well, but if Emhyr has his eye on the filly... But why is she appearing in my dreams? And why the hell am I dreaming that sort of nonsense? At the Equinox, do you recall, when I woke you... Brrr, what a nightmare that was, I'm glad I can't remember the details... Hmmm... Perhaps we ought to summon an astrologer? A soothsayer? A medium? '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Madam Sheala de Tancarville is in Lan Exeter.\"\n\n\"No.\" The king grimaced. \"I don't want that witch. Too clever. A second Philippa Eilhart is springing up under my nose! Power appeals too much to these clever women, one should not encourage them with favours and familiarity. '\n\n\"You're right, as ever, my husband. '\n\n\"Hmfff... But those dreams...\"\n\n\"The Good Book–\" Zuleyka turned over a few leaves\"– says that when a man falls asleep, the gods open his ears and speak to him. Whereas the prophet Lebioda teaches that when gazing on a dream, one either sees great wisdom or great foolishness. The art is in recognising it.\"\n\n\"A marriage of Tankred with Emhyr's betrothed is not exactly great wisdom, \"Esterad sighed.\"But while we're on the subject of wisdom, I would be immensely pleased if it came tome during my slumbers. It concerns the case with which Dijkstra came. It concerns a most trying case. For you see, my dear beloved Zuleyka, good sense permits us not to rejoice with Nilfgaard pushing northwards hard and liable any day to seize Novigrad, for from Novigrad everything– including our neutrality– looks different than from the distant South. Thus it would be good if Redania and Temeria were to hold back Nilfgaard's advance, in order to push the invader back across the Yaruga. But would it be good, were it done using our money? Are you listening tome, my most beloved wife? '\n\n\"I am, husband.\"\n\n\"And what do you think?\"\n\n\"All wisdom is contained in the Good Book.\"\n\n\"But does your Good Book say what to do if some Dijkstra shows up and demands a million from you?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The Book,\" Zuleyka blinked from over her spectacles, \"says nothing about base mammon. But in one passage it says: \"to give is a greater happiness than to receive, and supporting a pauper with alms is noble\". It is said: \"giveaway all, and it shall make your soul noble\".\"\n\n\"And makes the purse and breadbasket empty,\" Esterad Thyssen muttered. \"Zuleyka, is any wisdom to be found in the Book concerning business apart from passages about noble free distribution and alms-giving? What does the Book, for instance, say about equivalent exchange?\"\n\nThe queen straightened her spectacles and began to quickly turnover the pages of the incunabulum.\n\n\"Measure for measure,\" she read.\n\nEsterad was silent fora long while.\n\n\"And perhaps,\" he finally drawled, \"something more?\"\n\nZuleyka returned to turning the pages of the Book.\n\n\"I have found,\" she suddenly announced, \"something amongst the wisdom of the prophet Lebioda. Should I read it?\"\n\n\"If you would.\"\n\n\"The prophet Lebioda: \"in sooth, support the pauper with alms. But rather than give the pauper an entire watermelon, give him half a watermelon, fora pauper is liable to lose his wits from happiness\".\"\n\n\"Half a watermelon.\" Esterad Thyssen bristled. \"You mean half a million bizants? And do you know, Zuleyka, that to have a half a million and not to have half a million is a whole million together?\"\n\n\"You didn't let me finish, \"Zuleyka scolded her husband with a harsh look over her spectacles.\"The prophet goes on: \"better even is to give the pauper quarter of a watermelon. And it is even better to cause that some else give the pauper a watermelon. For in sooth, I tell you there will always be someone who has a watermelon and is inclined to share it with the pauper, if not out of nobleness, then out of calculation or on some other pretext\". '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Ha!\" The King of Kovir thumped his sceptre down on the bedside table. \"In sooth, the prophet Lebioda was shrewd! Instead of giving, cause someone else to give? That appeals tome, those are in sooth flowing words! Study the wisdom of that prophet, my darling Zuleyka. I'm certain you will discover among it something that permits me to solve the problem of Redania and the army that Redania wishes to raise using my money. '\n\nZuleyka leafed through the book fora longtime before she finally began to read.\n\n\"\"A pupil of the prophet Lebioda once spake to him:\"teach me, master, how I am to act. For my neighbour is desirous of my favourite dog. If I give him my pet, my heart will break from sorrow. If, though, I do not give it, I shall be downhearted, for I shall pain my neighbour through my refusal. What to do? \"\"Do you have, \"asked the prophet,\"something you loveless than your pet dog? \"\"I have, master, \"the pupil replied,\"an impish cat, a tiresome pest. And I love him not at all. \"And thus spake the prophet Lebioda:\"Take that impish cat, that tiresome pest, and give it to your neighbour. Then you will know happiness. You will be rid of the cat, and will delight your neighbour. For most often it is so, that our neighbour does not desire a gift, but to be given\".\"\"\n\nEsterad was silent for sometime and his brow was knitted.\n\n\"Zuleyka?\" he finally asked. \"Was that really the same prophet?\"\n\n\"\"Take that impish cat-\"\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I heard it the first time!\" the king yelled, but immediately restrained himself.\n\n\"Forgive me, most beloved. The point is I don't understand what cats have to do with... '\n\nHe fell silent. And pondered deeply.\n\nAfter eighty-five years, when the situation had changed enough to allow talk about certain issues and persons, Guiscard Vermuellen, Duke of Creyden, grandson of Esterad Thyssen and son of his oldest daughter, Gaudemunda, spoke. Duke Guiscard was then a venerable old man, but he clearly remembered the events he had witnessed. It was Duke Guiscard who revealed where the million bizants came from, the million with which Redania equipped its cavalry for the war against Nilfgaard. That million didn't come– as had been thought– from Kovir's treasury, but from the hierarch of Novigrad. Esterad Thyssen, Guiscard disclosed, obtained the Novigradian money from his shares in the maritime trade companies being setup. The paradox was that those companies were setup with the active cooperation of Nilfgaardian merchants. Thus it appeared that Nilfgaard itself– to some degree– had financed the fielding of the Redanian army.\n\n\"Grandpappa,\" Guiscard Vermuellen recalled, \"said something about watermelons, smiling roguishly. He said somebody always wants to give to a pauper, even if out of calculation. He also said that since Nilfgaard itself was contributing to increasing the strength and military capabilities of the Redanian Army, they couldn't blame others for doing the same.\n\n\"Later though,\" the old man went on, 'grandpappa summoned my father, who was at that time the chief of intelligence, and the minister of internal affairs. When they learned what orders they were to execute, they fell into a panic. They were concerned about releasing more than three thousand people from prisons, internment camps and exile. House arrest was to be withdrawn from more than a hundred." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No, it didn't only apply to bandits, common criminals and hired mercenaries. The pardons were mostly for dissidents. Among the pardoned were henchmen of the deposed King Rhyd and people of the usurper Idi, their virulent partisans. And not only those who had supported in word: most were in prison for sabotage, assassination attempts and armed revolts. The minister of internal affairs was horrified and papa extremely worried.\n\n\"While grandpappa,\" the duke went on, \"was laughing as though it were a first-rate joke. And then he continued– I remember every word: \"It's a great pity, gentlemen, that you don't read the Good Book before going to sleep. If you did, you would understand the ideas of your monarch. As it is, you'll be carrying out orders without understanding them. But don't worry, your monarch knows what he's doing. Now go and release all my impish cats, those tiresome pests.\"\n\n\"That's just what he said: impish cats, pests. And he meant– which no one then could have known– subsequent heroes, commanders covered in glory and fame. Those'cats\" of grandpappa's became the celebrated condottieri: Adam'Adieu\" Pangratt, Lorenzo Molla, Juan'Frontino\" Guttierez... And Julia Abatemarco, who became famous in Redania as'Pretty Kitty\"... You, youngsters, won't remember it, but when I was a boy, when we played at war, every lad wanted to be'Adieu\" Pangratt, and every girl Julia'Pretty Kitty\"... But to grandpappa they were mischievous cats.\n\n\"Later though,\" mumbled Guiscard Vermuellen, \"grandpappa took me by the hand and led me out onto the terrace, where grandmamma Zuleyka was feeding the seagulls. Grandpappa said to her... Said...\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The old man slowly and with great effort tried to recall the words, which, eighty-five years ago, King Esterad Thyssen had said to his wife, Queen Zuleyka, on the terrace of Ensenada Palace, towering over the Great Canal.\n\n\"Do you know, my most beloved wife, that I have spotted one more piece of wisdom among the words of the prophet Lebioda? One that shows me yet another benefit of giving Redania those mischievous cats? Cats, my Zuleyka, come home. Cats always come home. Well, and when my cats return, when they bring their pay, their spoils, their riches... I shall tax them!\"\n\nWhen King Esterad Thyssen spoke to Dijkstra for the last time, it was in private, without even Zuleyka. Admittedly, a more or less ten-year-old boy was playing on the floor of the gigantic chamber, but he didn't count, and furthermore was so busy with his lead soldiers that he paid no attention to the two men talking.\n\n\"That is Guiscard,\" Esterad explained, nodding towards the boy. \"My grandson, the son of Gaudemunda and that ne'er-do-well, Prince Vermuellen. But that little boy is Kovir's only hope, should Tankred Thyssen turnout to be... Should anything happen to Tankred...\"\n\nDijkstra was aware of Kovir's problem. And Esterad's personal problem. He knew that something had already happened to Tankred. The lad, if he had any makings of a king, would only be a bad one.\n\n\"Your matter,\" Esterad said, \"is already by and large sorted out. You may now start to ponder on the most effective way of using the million bizants which will soon end up in the Redanian coffers.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He bent down and surreptitiously picked up one of Guiscard's brightly painted lead soldiers, a cavalryman with a raised broadsword.\n\n\"Take that and conceal it well. Whoever shows you another such identical soldier will be my emissary, even if he doesn't look like it, even though you have no faith that he is my manor is aware of the issue of our million. Anyone else will bean agent provocateur. '\n\n\"Redania,\" Dijkstra bowed, \"will not forget this, Your Majesty. I, however, speaking for myself, would like to assure you of my personal gratitude.\"\n\n\"Do not do so. Give me that thousand with which you hoped to gain my minister's favour. Why, isn't the king's favour deserving of a bribe? '\n\n\"Your Royal Highness is stooping...\"\n\n\"We are, we are. Handover the money, Dijkstra. To have a thousand and not to have a thousand-\"\n\n\"... adds up to two thousand. I know.\"\n\nIna distant wing of Ensenada, in a chamber of much more modest size, the sorceress Sheala de Tancarville listened to the account of Queen Zuleyka with concentration and earnestness.\n\n\"Excellent,\" she nodded. \"Excellent, Your Royal Highness.\"\n\n\"I did everything as instructed, Lady Sheala.\"\n\n\"Thank you for doing so. And I assure you one more time; we were acting in a good cause. For the good of the country. And dynasty.\"\n\nQueen Zuleyka coughed softly and her voice changed a little.\n\n'And... And Tankred, Lady Sheala?\n\n\"I gave my word,\" Sheala de Tancarville said coldly. \"I gave my word that I would reciprocate for the help with help. Your Royal Highness may sleep serenely.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I desire that greatly,\" Zuleyka sighed." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Greatly. While we're on the subject of sleep... The king begins to suspect something. Those dreams are amazing him, and when something amazes him he grows suspicious. '\n\n\"I shall, then, stop sending the king dreams for sometime,\" the sorceress promised. \"Returning, however, to Your Majesty's dream, I repeat, he can be confident. Prince Tankred will bid farewell to that bad company. He will not linger at the Baron of Surcratasse's castle. Nor at Lady de Lisemore's residence. Nor at the Redanian ambassador's wife's. '\n\n\"He will no longer visit those personages? Never?\"\n\n\"Those personages,\" Sheala de Tancarville's dark eyes lit up with a strange glint,\"will no longer dare to trifle with Prince Tankred, for they shall be made aware of the consequences. I vouch for what I say. I vouch for the fact that Prince Tankred will take up his studies again and be a diligent scholar, a serious and level-headed young man. He shall also stop chasing skirts. He shall lose his ardour... until the moment we introduce to him Cirilla, Princess of Cintra. '\n\n\"Oh, if only I could believe that!\" Zuleyka wrung her hands and raised her eyes. \"If only I could believe that!\"\n\n\"It is sometimes difficult,\" Sheala de Tancarville smiled, unexpectedly even for herself, \"to believe in the power of magic, Your Royal Highness. And actually, so should it be.\"\n\nPhilippa Eilhart adjusted the gossamer-thin strap of her sheer nightdress and wiped the rest of the lipstick smudges from her cleavage. Such a smart woman, thought Sheala de Tancarville with slight distaste, and she can't keep her hormones in check." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"May we talk?\"\n\nPhilippa surrounded herself with a sphere of discretion.\n\n\"We can now.\"\n\n\"Everything has been sorted out in Kovir. Positively.\"\n\n\"Thank you. Has Dijkstra set sail?\"\n\n\"Not yet.\"\n\n\"Why does he delay?\"\n\n\"He conducts long conversations with Esterad Thyssen.\" Sheala de Tancarville grimaced. \"They've taken an uncommon liking for each other, the king and the spy. '\n\n\"Do you know the jokes about our weather, Dijkstra? That there are only two seasons in Kovir-\"\n\n\"Winter and August. I do.\"\n\n\"And do you know how to tell if summer has reached Kovir?\"\n\n\"No. How?\"\n\n\"The rain becomes a little warmer.\"\n\n\"Ha ha.\"\n\n\"Joking aside,\" Esterad Thyssen said gravely, \"it worries me somewhat that the winters come earlier and earlier and last longer and longer. It was prophesied. You've read, I presume, Ithlinne's prophecy? It's said there that decades of unending winter will come. Some claim it's some kind of allegory, but I'm a little afraid. In Kovir we once had four summers of cold, rainy weather and poor harvests. Were it not for the tremendous import of food from Nilfgaard, people would have begun to die of starvation in droves. Can you imagine? '\n\n\"To be honest, I can't. '\n\n\"Well I can. The cooling climate may starve us all to death. Famine is a foe that is bloody hard to fight.\"\n\nThe spy nodded, lost in thought.\n\n\"Dijkstra?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Your Majesty?\"\n\n\"Is there peace inside the country now?\"\n\n\"I wouldn't say so. But I'm doing my best.\"\n\n\"I know, everyone's talking about it. Of the traitors on Thanedd, only Vilgefortz remains alive. '\n\n\"After the death of Yennefer, yes. Did you know, O king, that Yennefer met her death? She perished on the last day of August, in mysterious circumstances, over the infamous Sedna Trench, between the Isles of Skellige and Cape Peixe de Mar.\"\n\n\"Yennefer of Vengerberg,\" Esterad said slowly, \"was not a traitor. She was not an accomplice of Vilgefortz. If you wish I shall supply proof.\"\n\n\"I do not,\" Dykstra responded after moment's silence.\"Or perhaps I will, but not right now. Now she's more convenient tome as a traitor.\"\n\n\"I understand. Don't trust sorceresses, Dijkstra. Philippa in particular. '\n\n\"I've never trusted her. But we must co-operate. Without us Redania would plunge into chaos and perish. '\n\n\"That is true. But if I may advise you, loosen your grip a little. You know of what I speak. Scaffolds and torture chambers throughout the land, atrocities perpetrated against elves... And that dreadful fort, Drakenborg. I know you do it out of patriotism. But you are building yourself an evil legend. In it you're a werewolf, lapping up innocent blood. '\n\n\"Someone has to do it.\"\n\n\"And someone has to bear the consequences. I know you endeavour to be just, but you can't avoid mistakes, can you, for they can't be avoided. Neither can you remain clean when you're slopping around in blood. I know you've never harmed anybody for self-interest, but who will believe that? Who'll want to believe that? The day that fate turns, they'll attribute the murder of innocent people to you, and worse, claim you profited from it. And lying sticks to a fellow like tar.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I know.\"\n\n\"They won't give you a chance to defend yourself. People like you aren't given chances. They'll tar you... but later. After the fact. Beware, Dijkstra. '\n\n\"I shall. They won't get me. '\n\n\"They got your king, Vizimir. With a dagger plunged up to the guard in his flank, I heard...\"\n\n\"It's easier to stab a king than a spy. They won't get me. They'll never get me. '\n\n\"And they ought not to. Do you know why, Dijkstra? For there ought to be some sort of fucking justice in this world.\"\n\nThe day was to come when they would recall that conversation. Both of them. The king and the spy. Dijkstra recalled Esterad's words in Tretogor, as he listened closely to the steps of the assassins approaching from all directions, along all the corridors of the castle. Esterad recalled Dijkstra's words on the splendid marble staircase leading from Ensenada to the Great Canal.\n\n\"He could have fought back.\" The misty, unseeing eyes of Guiscard Vermuellen gazed into the abyss of his recollections. \"There were only three assassins, and grandpappa was a powerful man. He could have fought, defended himself, until the guards arrived. He could have simply fled. But grandmama Zuleyka was there. Grandpappa shielded and protected Zuleyka. Only Zuleyka. He didn't care about himself. When help finally arrived, Zuleyka wasn't even grazed. Esterad had been stabbed more than twenty times. He died three hours later, without regaining consciousness.\"\n\n\"Have you ever read the Good Book, Dijkstra?\"\n\n\"No, Your Majesty. But I know what is written in it.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I, can you believe it, opened it at random yesterday. And I came across this sentence: \"On the way to eternity everyone will tread their own stairway, shouldering their own burden\". What do you think about that?\"\n\n\"Time I went, King Esterad. Time to shoulder my burden.\"\n\n\"Farewell, O Spy.\"\n\n\"Farewell, OKing.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "We trekked perhaps four hundred furlongs southwards from the ancient and far-famed city of Assengard, to a land called Centloch. When one looks on that land from the hills, one sees numerous lakes arranged, artificially, in manifold dispositions. Our guide, the elf Avallac'h, ordered us to seek among those dispositions one calling to mind a cloverleaf. And, in truth, we espied one such. Moreover, it came out that there were not three but four lakes, for one, somewhat elongated, stretching from south to north, is, as it were, the stem of the leaf. That lake, known as Tarn Mira, is ringed by a black forest. Meanwhile, the mysterious Tower of the Swallow, in the elven tongue Tor Zireael, was said to rise up at its northern margin. At first, nonetheless, we saw nothing save fog. I was readying myself to ask the elf Avallac'h about the tower, when he gestured me to be silent and spoke these words: \"Await and hope. Hope shall return with the light and a good omen. Gaze at the endless waters; there you shall discern the envoys of good tidings.\"\n\nBuyvid Backhuysen, Peregrinations along Magic Trails and Places.\n\nThe book is humbug from beginning to end. The ruins by Tarn Mira Lake have been examined many and oft. They are not magical; contrary to the enunciations of B. Backhuysen they cannot thus be the remains of the legendary Tower of the Swallow.\n\nArs Magica, XIV edition" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They're coming! They're coming!\"\n\nYennefer held her wet, windswept hair in both hands and stopped by the railing of the steps, getting out of the way of the women running to the wharf. Pushed by a west wind, a breaker crashed against the shore and white plumes of foam kept gushing from clefts in the rocks.\n\n\"They're coming! They're coming!\"\n\nAlmost the entire archipelago could be seen from the upper terraces of Kaer Trolde citadel, Ard Skellig's main stronghold. Directly ahead, beyond the strait, lay An Skellig, its southern part low and flat, its hidden northern side precipitous and scored by fjords. Faraway to the left, tall, green, mountainous Spikeroog, its peaks shrouded in cloud, broke up the waves with the sharp fangs of its reefs. To the right Undvik island's steep cliffs could be seen, teeming with gulls, petrels, cormorants and gannets. From behind Undvik emerged the forested cone of Hindarsfjall, the archipelago's smallest island. If, though, you were to climb to the very top of one of Kaer Trolde's towers and look southwards, you would seethe solitary island of Faroe far from the others, jutting from the water like the back of a huge fish washed up at low tide.\n\nYennefer went down to the lower terrace, stopping by a group of women whose pride and social status prevented them from rushing pell-mell to the quayside to jostle with the excited rabble. Down below, beneath them, lay the harbour town, black and shapeless like some great marine crustacean spat out by the waves.\n\nLongship after longship sailed out of the strait between An Skellig and Spikeroog. Their sails blazed white and red in the sun and brass bosses shone on the shields suspended from their sides." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Ringhorn is coming first,\" said one of the women." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Followed by Fenris...\"\n\n\"Trigla,\" an excited speaker caught sight of another. \"Drac follows... Havfrue's behind them... '\n\n\"Anghira... Tamara... Daria... No, it's Scorpena... Daria's not there. Daria's not there... '\n\nA young, heavily pregnant woman with a thick, fair plait, cradling her belly, groaned softly, paled and fainted, collapsing on the flags of the terrace like a curtain torn from its rings. Yennefer leaped forward at once, dropping to one knee, placed her fingers on the woman's abdomen and shouted a spell to suppress the spasms and contractions, powerfully and securely binding the placenta– which was in danger of detaching– to the womb. Just to be certain, she cast another soothing and protective spell on the baby, whose kicks she could feel under her palm. She brought the woman around by slapping her face, in order not to waste magical energy.\n\n\"Take her away. Carefully.\"\n\n\"Foolish girl...\" said one of the older women. \"A close thing...\"\n\n\"Hysterical... Her Nils may still be alive, he maybe on another longship...\"\n\n\"Thank you for your help, madam witch.\"\n\n\"Take her away,\" Yennefer repeated, getting to her feet. Then she stifled a curse on discovering her dress had burst at the seams when she'd knelt down.\n\nShe went down to an even lower terrace. The longships were pulling into the quay one after another and the warriors going ashore. Heavily-armed, bearded berserkers from Skellige. Bandages shone white on many of them and many had to be helped to walk by their comrades. Some had to be carried." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The women of Skellige, crowded on the quayside, were looking out for their men, whooping and crying for joy if they were fortunate. If not, they fainted. Or walked away, slowly, quietly, without a word of complaint. Occasionally they looked back, hoping that the white and red of Daria 's sails would glint in the sound.\n\nThere was no sign of Daria.\n\nYennefer caught sight of the ruddy mane of Crach an Craite, the yarl of Skellige, one of the last to disembark from Ringhorn 's deck, towering above the other heads. The yarl was yelling orders, giving instructions, checking, taking care of things. Two women with their eyes fixed on him– one fair and the other dark– were weeping. With joy. The yarl, finally certain he had seen to and made sure of everything, walked over to the women, embraced them both in a bear hug and kissed them. And then raised his head and saw Yennefer. His eyes blazed and his weather-beaten face hardened like the stone of a reef, like a brass shield boss.\n\nHe knows, thought the sorceress. News spreads quickly. Even while still onboard ship the yarl found out about my being caught in a net in the sound beyond Spikeroog. He knew he'd find me in Kaer Trolde.\n\nMagic or carrier pigeons?\n\nHe walked unhurriedly towards her. He smelled of the sea, of salt, tar and exhaustion. She looked into his bright eyes and immediately the war cries of the berserkers, the banging of shields and the clanging of swords and battle-axes resounded in her ears. The screaming of men being killed. The screaming of men jumping into the sea from the burning Daria." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yennefer of Vengerberg.\"\n\n\"Crach an Craite, Yarl of Skellige.\" She bowed slightly before him.\n\nHe didn't return the bow. Not good, she thought.\n\nHe immediately saw the bruise, a souvenir of a blow with an oar. His face hardened again and his lips twitched, revealing his teeth fora second.\n\n\"Whoever struck you will answer for it.\"\n\n\"No one struck me. I tripped on the stairs.\"\n\nHe considered her intently and then shrugged.\n\n\"If you don't want to telltales that's your business. I have no time to launch an inquiry. Now listen. Carefully, because these will be the only words I shall utter to you.\"\n\n\"Very well.\"\n\n\"Tomorrow you will be put on a longship and shipped to Novigrad. You will be handed over to the town authorities there and afterwards to the Temerian or Redanian authorities; whichever comes forward first. And I know that both desire you just as ardently.\"\n\n\"Is that everything?\"\n\n\"Almost. Just one more clarification, which you, in truth, deserve. Skellige has quite often given refuge to people being hunted by the law. There is no shortage of opportunities and occasions on the Isles to atone for one's guilt through hard work, fortitude, sacrifice and blood. But not in your case, Yennefer. I shall not give you refuge. If you counted on it, then you miscalculated. I detest people like you. I detest people who stir up trouble in order to gain power, who are driven by self-interest, who plot with the enemy and betray those to whom they owe not only obedience but also gratitude. I detest you, Yennefer. At the very moment you and your rebel comrades began inciting the rebellion on Thanedd at the instigation of Nilfgaard, my longships were fighting in Attre; my boys were coming to the aid of the insurrectionists there. Three hundred of my boys squared up to two thousand Black Cloaks! Valour and fidelity must rewarded, just as wickedness and treachery must be punished! How am Ito reward those who fell? With cenotaphs? With inscriptions carved into obelisks? No! I shall reward and honour the fallen differently. Your blood, Yennefer, will trickle between the planks of the scaffold. In exchange for their blood, which soaked into the dunes of Attre. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'm not guilty. I didn't participate in Vilgefortz's plot. '\n\n\"You will present proof of that to the judges. I will not judge you.\"\n\n\"You already have. You've even pronounced sentence. '\n\n\"Enough talk! I've spoken: tomorrow at dawn you'll sail in manacles to Novigrad to stand before the royal court. To receive a just punishment. And now, give me your word you won't try to use magic. '\n\n\"And if I don't? '\n\n\"Marquard, our sorcerer, died on Thanedd; we no longer have a mage who could get you under control. But know this– you will be under the permanent observation of Skellige's finest bowmen. If you so much as move a hand suspiciously, you'll be shot.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" she nodded. \"Then I give my word.\"\n\n\"Splendid. Thank you. Farewell, Yennefer. I shall not be escorting you tomorrow.\"\n\n\"Crach.\"\n\nHe turned on his heel.\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"I don't have the slightest intention of boarding a ship to Novigrad. I don't have the time to prove my innocence to Dijkstra. I can't risk discovering they've already fabricated proof of my guilt. I can't risk dying of a sudden cerebral haemorrhage or committing suicide in my cell in some spectacular way soon after my arrest. I can't waste time or take such a risk. Nor may I explain to you why it is so risky for me. I shan't sail to Novigrad. '\n\nHe gazed long at her.\n\n\"You won't sail, \"he restated.\"What permits you to think like that? Is it that we once shared love's delights? Don't count on that, Yennefer. Let bygones be bygones. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I know, and I'm not counting on it. I shan't sail to Novigrad, yarl, because I must go and help someone I vowed never to leave alone and helpless. And you, Crach an Craite, Yarl of Skellige, will help me in my undertaking. Because you took a similar vow. Ten years ago. Right hereon the wharf, where we stand. To the same person. To Ciri, the granddaughter of Calanthe. The lion cub of Cintra. I, Yennefer of Vengerberg, regard Ciri as my daughter. Which is why I demand on her behalf that you keep your vow. Keep it, Crach an Craite, Yarl of Skellige.\"\n\n\"Really?\" Crach an Craite made sure once again. \"You won't even try them? None of these dainties? '\n\n\"Really.\"\n\nThe yarl did not insist, but took a lobster from the dish, laid it on aboard and split it lengthwise with a powerful– though extremely accurate– blow with a cleaver. After sprinkling it liberally with lemon juice and garlic sauce, he began eating the flesh straight from the shell. With his fingers.\n\nYennefer ate in a dignified manner, using a silver knife and fork– but it was a mutton chop with spinach, specially prepared for her by the astonished and probably slightly offended cook. Because the sorceress didn't want oysters, or mussels, or salmon marinated in its own juice, or gurnard and cockle soup, or stewed monkfish tail, or roast swordfish, or fried moray eel, or octopus, or crab, or lobster, or sea urchin. Or– especially– fresh seaweed. She associated everything that even faintly smelled of the sea with Fringilla Vigo and Philippa Eilhart, with the insanely dangerous teleportation, the fall into the sea, the seawater she had swallowed, and the net which had been thrown over her– to which, incidentally, had been stuck seaweed and algae identical to that on the dish. Seaweed and algae, smashed against her head and shoulders along with the excruciatingly painful blows from a pine oar." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So then,\" Crach resumed the conversation, sucking the flesh from the legs of the lobster after cracking open the joints, \"I've decided to put my faith in you, Yennefer. I'm not doing it for you, though, be aware of that. Bloedgeas, the blood oath I gave Calanthe, does indeed tie my hands. So if your intention to go to Ciri's aid is genuine and heartfelt, and I presume it is, I have no choice: I must help you with your scheme... '\n\n\"Thank you. But rid yourself of that pompous tone, please. I repeat: I didn't take part in the plot on Thanedd. Believe me. '\n\n\"Is it really so important what I believe?\" he flared up. \"You ought rather to begin with the kings, with Dijkstra, whose agents are tracking you the length and breadth of the world. With Philippa Eilhart and the sorcerers loyal to the kings. From whom, as you yourself admitted, you fled here, to Skellige. You ought to present them with proof-\"\n\n\"I have no proof,\" she interrupted, angrily stabbing her fork into a Brussels sprout the offended cook had boiled to go with the mutton chop. \"But if I had, they wouldn't let me present it. I can't explain it to you; I'm forbidden from speaking. Take my word for it, Crach. Please. '\n\n\"I said-\"\n\n\"I know,\" she interrupted. \"You pledged your help. Thank you. But you still don't believe in my innocence. Believe me. '\n\nCrach threw aside the sucked-out lobster's shell and drew a bowl of mussels closer. He rummaged around, rattling them, taking out the bigger ones." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Very well,\" he finally said, wiping his hands on the tablecloth. \"I believe you. Because I want to believe. But I shall not give you refuge or protection. I cannot. You may, though, leave Skellige whenever you wish and make for wherever you wish. I'd advise haste. You came here, so to speak, on the wings of magic. Others may follow you. They can also work magic. '\n\n\"I'm not looking fora refuge or a safe hideaway, yarl. I must go and rescue Ciri. '\n\n\"Ciri,\" he repeated, lost in thought. \"The lion cub... She was a queer child.\"\n\n\"Was?\"\n\n\"Oh,\" he flared up again. \"I expressed myself badly. Was– because she's no longer a child. That's all I meant. That's all. Cirilla, the Lion Cub of Cintra... she spent her summers and winters on Skellige. She was often mischievous! She was a Young Devil, not a Lion Cub... Damn it, I said'was\" a second time... Yennefer, rumours find their way here from the mainland... Some say Ciri's in Nilfgaard-\"\n\n\"She's not in Nilfgaard. '\n\n\"Others that the girl is dead.\"\n\nYennefer said nothing, biting her lip.\n\n\"But I reject the second rumour,\" the yarl said firmly. \"Ciri's alive. I'm certain. There've been no signs... She's alive!\"\n\nYennefer raised her eyebrows, but didn't ask any questions. They were silent fora longtime, listening intently to the roar of the waves crashing against the rocks of Ard Skellig.\n\n\"Yennefer,\" Crach said after another moment's silence.\"Yet more tidings have reached us from the continent. I know that your Witcher– who hid in Brokilon after the affray on Thanedd– set off from therewith the aim of reaching Nilfgaard and freeing Ciri. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I repeat, Ciri is not in Nilfgaard. I know not what my Witcher– as you chose to describe him– is planning. But he... Crach, it's no secret that I... am fond of him. But I know he won't rescue Ciri. He won't achieve anything. I know him. He'll become entangled in something, get lost, start philosophising and feeling sorrow for himself. Then he'll vent his rage, hacking whatever and whoever he canto pieces with his sword. Afterwards, to atone for it, he'll carryout some noble, but senseless feat. Then finally he'll be killed, foolishly, senselessly, probably by a stab in the back-'\n\n\"They say,\" Crach quickly interjected, alarmed by the sorceress's ominously changing, strangely trembling voice.\"They say Ciri is bound to him by destiny. I saw it myself, back in Cintra, during Pavetta's betrothal-\"\n\n\"Destiny,\" Yennefer interrupted sharply, \"can be interpreted in many, many different ways. Anyway, let's not waste time on digressions. I repeat; I don't know what Geralt's plans are or even whether he has any. I mean to get down to work myself. Using my own methods. And actively, Crach, actively. I'm not accustomed to sitting and weeping, holding my head in both hands. I act!\"\n\nThe yarl raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.\n\n\"I shall take action,\" the sorceress repeated. \"I've already devised a plan. And you, Crach, will assist me with it, in accordance with your vow. '\n\n\"I'm ready, \"he announced firmly.\"For anything. The longships are moored in the harbour. Give the order, Yennefer. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She couldn't stifle a snort of laughter.\n\n\"Always the same. No, Crach, no demonstrations of bravery and manliness. It won't be necessary to sail to Nilfgaard and plunge a battleaxe into the lock of the City of the Golden Towers. I needless spectacular, but more tangible help... What's the state of your treasury?\"\n\n\"I beg your pardon?\"\n\n\"Yarl Crach an Craite. The help I need is expressible in cash.\"\n\nIt began the next day, at dawn. A frantic commotion broke out in the chambers put at Yennefer's disposal, which seneschal Guthlaf– who had been assigned to the sorceress– was having great difficulty controlling. Yennefer was sitting at a table, almost not raising her head from various papers. She was counting, totting up columns and doing calculations, which were immediately rushed to the treasury and the island branch of Cianfanellis\" bank. She was making drawings and charts which immediately ended up in the hands of craftsmen: alchemists, goldsmiths, glaziers and jewellers.\n\nEverything went smoothly fora while and then the problems began.\n\n\"I'm sorry, my lady, \"seneschal Guthlaf said slowly.\"But if there isn't any, there isn't any. We gave you everything we had. We can't make magic or do miracles! And I'll take the liberty of observing that what's lying before you, madam, are diamonds with a combined value of-\"\n\n\"What do I care about their combined value?\" she snorted. \"I need one, but a suitably large one. How large, master jeweller?\"\n\nThe lapidary looked again at the drawing.\n\n\"In order to make that cut and those facets? A minimum of thirty carats.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There's no such stone, \"Guthlaf stated categorically,\"on the whole of Skellige. '\n\n\"That's not true, \"the jeweller contradicted.\"There is. '\n\n\"How do you imagine this playing out, Yennefer?\" Crach an Craite frowned. \"I'm to send armed men to storm and then plunder the temple? I'm to threaten the priestesses with my wrath if they won't give up the diamond? It's out of the question. I'm not especially religious, but a temple's a temple, and priestesses are priestesses. I can only ask politely. Hint at how much it matters tome and how great my gratitude will be. But it will still only be a request. A humble supplication.\"\n\n\"That maybe denied?\"\n\n\"Indeed. But there's no harm in trying. What are we risking? Let's sail to Hindarsfjall together and present the supplication. I'll give the priestesses to understand what's needed. But then everything will be in your hands. Negotiate. Present your arguments. Try bribery. Pique their ambition. Appeal to higher reasons. Despair, weep, sob, beg for mercy... Call on all the sea devils. Must I teach you, Yennefer?\"\n\n\"It'll all be for nothing, Crach. A sorceress will never reach agreement with priestesses. Certain differences of our... outlook are too marked. And when it comes to permitting a sorceress to use a'sacred\" relict or artefact... No, we'd better forget it. There's no chance... '\n\n\"What do you actually need that diamond for?\"\n\n\"To build a'window\". I mean a telecommunicational megascope. I have to talk to several people.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Collaborate on the narrative and advance it.\nTags: fantasy, dark fantasy, chase\nAuthor: Andrzej Sapkowski\nTitle: The Tower of Swallows\nChapter: 22" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Who, if not a demon, travels in winter? Or asks the way to enchanted ruins?\n\nAfter she had ridden away, Gosta quickly packed away his fishing tackle. He walked home through the forest. He was going out of his way, but his good sense and instincts warned him not to take the forest tracks, to stay out of sight. The girl, his good sense told him, had not– contrary to all appearances– been a phantom. She was a human being. The black mare hadn't been an apparition, it was a horse. And people who gallop through the wilds– in winter, to boot– are very often being hunted.\n\nAn hour later a search party galloped along the forest track. Fourteen horses.\n\nRience shook the silver box once again, swore and smacked his saddle pommel in fury. But the xenogloss was silent. As the grave.\n\n\"Magic shit,\" commented Bonhart coldly. \"It's broken, the cheap gewgaw. '\n\n\"Or Vilgefortz is showing what he thinks of us,\" Stefan Skellen added.\n\nRience raised his head and glared at the two of them.\n\n\"Thanks to this cheap gewgaw,\" he stated caustically, \"we're on the trail and won't lose it now. Thanks to Lord Vilgefortz we know which way the girl is headed. We know where we're going and what we have to do. I'd call that plenty. Compared to your efforts of a month ago.\"\n\n\"Don't talk so much. Hey, Boreas? What does the trail say? '\n\nBoreas Mun straightened up and cleared his throat.\n\n\"She was here an hour before us. She's riding hard where she can. But it's difficult terrain. Even on that exceptional mare she's not more than five, six miles ahead of us. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"And so she's still pushing on among those lakes, \"Skellen muttered.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Vilgefortz was right. And I didn't believe him...\"\n\n\"Neither did I,\" Bonhart admitted. \"Until yesterday, when those peasants confirmed there really is some kind of magical structure by Tarn Mira.\"\n\nThe horses snorted, steam billowing from their nostrils. Tawny Owl glanced over his left shoulder at Joanna Selborne. For several days he had been none too pleased by the telepath's expression. I'm getting edgy, he thought. This chase has exhausted all of us, physically and mentally. It's time to be done with it. High time.\n\nA cold shudder ran down his back. He recalled the dream that had visited him the night before.\n\n\"Very well!\" he said, coming back to his senses. \"That's enough meditation. To horse! '\n\nBoreas Mun hung from his saddle, looking for tracks. It wasn't easy. The earth had frozen solid, hard as iron, and the loose snow, quickly blown away by the wind, only lingered in furrows and clefts. It was in them that Boreas was searching for the black mare's hoof prints. He had to pay close attention in order not to lose the trail, especially now, when the magical voice coming from the silver box had fallen silent, stopped giving advice and instructions.\n\nHe was unbelievably weary. And anxious. They'd been tracking the girl for almost three weeks, since Samhain and the massacre in Dun Dare. Almost three weeks in the saddle, constantly on the hunt. And still neither the black mare nor the girl riding it had weakened or slowed their pace.\n\nBoreas Mun looked for tracks.\n\nHe couldn't stop thinking about a dream from the night before. In it he had been drowning. The black water had closed over his head and he sank to the bottom, the icy water gushing into his throat and lungs. He awoke hot and sweaty, wet through, although a truly bitter winter was raging around them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That's enough, he thought, hanging from his saddle, looking for tracks. It's high time we were done with it.\n\n\"Master? Do you hear me? Master?\"\n\nThe xenogloss was silent as the grave.\n\nRience moved his arms vigorously and breathed on his numb hands. The cold nipped his neck and shoulders, his lower back and loins hurt; each jolt of the horse reminded him of the pain. He didn't even feel like swearing. Almost three weeks in the saddle, in an unending pursuit. In the bitter cold and for several days in severe frost.\n\nAnd Vilgefortz was silent.\n\nWe are too. And we're scowling at each other.\n\nRience rubbed his hands and pulled down his sleeves.\n\nSkellen, he thought, looks at me strangely. Might he be plotting a betrayal? He came to an agreement with Vilgefortz too quickly and too easily back then... And that troop, those thugs, it's him they're loyal to, it's his orders they carryout. When we seize the maid, he's liable– heedless of the agreement– to kill or carry her away to those conspirators of his, in order to enact his insane ideas about democracy and civil government.\n\nBut perhaps Skellen's got over his conspiracies by now? Perhaps that born conformist and opportunist is now thinking about delivering the maid to Emperor Emhyr?\n\nHe looks at me strangely. That Tawny Owl. And that whole mob of his... That Kenna Selborne...\n\nAnd Bonhart? Bonhart is an unpredictable sadist. When he speaks of Ciri, his voice trembles with fury. Depending on his whims, if we capture the girl he's liable to beat her to death or kidnap her and make her fight in the arena. The agreement with Vilgefortz? He won't care about it. Particularly now, when Vilgefortz..." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He removed the xenogloss from his bosom.\n\n\"Master? Do you hear me? It's Rience... '\n\nThe device was silent. Rience didn't even feel like swearing.\n\nVilgefortz remains silent. Skellen and Bonhart made a pact with him. Only in a day or two, when we catch up with the girl, it may turnout that there is no pact. And then I might have my throat cut. Or ride in fetters to Nilfgaard, as proof of and as ransom against Tawny Owl's loyalty...\n\nSod it!\n\nVilgefortz remains silent. He isn't giving us any advice. He's not giving us directions. He isn't dispelling our doubts with his calm, logical voice, which touches the depths of your soul. He's silent.\n\nThe xenogloss has broken down. Perhaps because of the cold? Or maybe...\n\nMaybe Skellen was right? Perhaps Vilgefortz really has turned his attention to something else and doesn't care about us or our fate?\n\nBy all the devils, I never thought it would turnout like this. Had I, I wouldn't have been so enthusiastic about this mission... I would have gone and killed the Witcher instead of Schirrú... Damn it! I'm freezing out here and Schirrú is probably nice and warm...\n\nTo think that I insisted ongoing after Ciri, and Schirrú after the Witcher. I asked for it myself... Back at the beginning of September when Yennefer fell into our hands.\n\nThe world, a moment ago still an unreal, soft and muddily sticky blackness, abruptly took on hard surfaces and contours. It became brighter. And materialised." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Yennefer opened her eyes, rocked by convulsive shivers. She lay on the stones, among dead bodies and tarred planks, littered with the remains of the rigging of the longship Alkyone. She could see feet all around her. Feet in heavy boots. One of the boots had just kicked her, to bring her around.\n\n\"Get up, witch!\"\n\nAnother kick, sending pain shooting right into the roots of her teeth. She saw a face bending over her. \"Get up, I said! On your feet! Recognise me?\"\n\nShe blinked. Yes, she did. It was the man she had burned, when he was fleeing from her using a teleporter. Rience.\n\n\"We'll square accounts, \"he promised her.\"We'll square accounts for everything, you slut. I'll teach you what pain is. I'll teach you what pain is with these fingers and these hands.\"\n\nShe tensed up, clenched and spread her fingers, ready to cast a spell. And immediately curled up in a ball, choking, wheezing and trembling. Rience guffawed.\n\n\"Nothing doing, eh?\" she heard. \"You haven't even got a scrap of power! You're no match for Vilgefortz when it comes to sorcery! He's squeezed the very last dropout of you, like whey from curds. You can't even-\"\n\nHe didn't complete the sentence. Yennefer pulled out a dagger from a sheath fastened to her inner thigh, sprang like a cat and thrust blindly. She missed. The blade merely brushed her target, tearing his trousers. Rience leaped aside and fell over.\n\nImmediately, a hail of blows and kicks rained down on her. She howled as a heavy boot dropped on her hand, squeezing the dagger from her crushed fist. Another boot kicked her in the belly. The sorceress curled up, rasping. She was picked up from the ground, her arms jerked behind her. She saw a fist flying towards her, the world suddenly flashed brightly, and her face exploded with pain. A wave of pain passed downwards, to her stomach and crotch, transforming her knees into a thin jelly. She drooped in the arms holding her up. Someone seized her from behind by the hair, lifting up her head. She was struck once more, in the eye socket, and again everything vanished in a blinding flash." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She didn't faint. She could still feel. They beat her. They beat her hard, cruelly, as a man is beaten. With blows that aren't just meant to hurt, but meant to fracture, meant to crush all energy and the will to resist from the victim. She was beaten, jerking in the steely grip of many hands.\n\nShe wanted to faint but couldn't. She could feel it.\n\n\"Enough,\" she suddenly heard from faraway, from behind the curtain of pain. \"Have you gone mad, Rience? Do you mean to kill her? I need her alive.\"\n\n\"I vowed to her, master,\" snarled the shadow looming in front of her, which gradually took on Rience's form and face.\"I promised I'd pay her back... With these hands...\"\n\n\"I care little for what you promised her. I repeat, I need her alive and capable of articulated speech.\"\n\n\"It's not so easy, \"laughed the one holding her by the hair,\"to knock the life out of a cat or a witch. '\n\n\"Don't be clever, Schirrú. I said she's been sufficiently beaten. Pick her up. How do you do, Yennefer?\" The sorceress spat red and lifted her puffy face. At first she didn't recognise him. He was wearing a kind of mask, covering the entire left side of his head. But she knew who it was.\n\n\"Go to hell, Vilgefortz,\" she mumbled, gingerly touching her front teeth and cut lips with her tongue.\n\n\"What did you make of my spell? Did you like it when I lifted you and that boat up from the sea? Did you enjoy the flight? What charms did you protect yourself with to survive the fall?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Go to hell.\"\n\n\"Tear that star from her neck. And to the laboratory with her. Let's not waste time. '\n\nShe was dragged, pulled, occasionally carried. A stony plain, with Alkyone lying smashed on it amid numerous other wrecks with protruding ribs, like the skeletons of sea monsters. Crach was right, she thought. The ships that disappeared without trace on the Sedna Abyss weren't victims of natural disasters. Ye Gods... Pavetta and Duny...\n\nAbove the plain, in the distance, mountain peaks thrust up into the overcast sky.\n\nThen there were walls, gates, cloisters, floors, staircases. Everything somehow odd, unnaturally large... Still too few details to let her workout where she was, where she'd come to, where the spell had carried her. Her face was swelling up, making observations all the more difficult. Smell became the one sense supplying her with information– she smelled formalin, ether and spirits. And magic. The smells of a laboratory. She was brutally shoved down into a steel armchair. Cold, painfully tight clamps slammed shut on her wrists and ankles. Before the steel jaws of a vice tightened on her temples and immobilised her head, she managed to glance around the large and glaringly lit room. She saw one more armchair and a strange steel construction on the stone floor.\n\n\"Yes indeed,\" she heard the voice of Vilgefortz from behind her. \"That little chair is for your Ciri. It's been here forages; it can't wait. Neither can I.\"\n\nShe heard him up close, literally felt his breath. He stuck some needles into her head, attached something to her ears. Then he stood before her and removed the mask. Yennefer sucked in air involuntarily." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That's the work of your Ciri, ' he said, indicating his once classically beautiful, now hideously mutilated face, criss-crossed with golden clasps and fastenings securing a multifaceted crystal in his left eye socket.\n\n\"I tried to catch her when she entered the Tower of the Gull,\" the sorcerer calmly explained. \"I meant to save her life, certain that the teleporter would kill her. How naive of me! She passed through smoothly, with such force that the portal exploded, blew upright in my face. I lost an eye and my left cheek, as well as a lot of skin from my face, neck and chest. Avery disagreeable, very bothersome, very complicated accident. And very ugly, isn't it? Ha, you ought to have seen me before I began to regenerate magically.\n\n\"If I believed in such things,\" he continued, pushing a bent copper tube into her nose, \"I'd have thought it was Lydia van Bredevoort's revenge. From beyond the grave. I'm regenerating, but it's slow, time-consuming and heavy going. It's particularly difficult with the regeneration of the eyeball... The crystal in my eye socket plays its role splendidly; I can see in three dimensions, but yet it's a foreign body, and the lack of a natural eyeball occasionally makes me absolutely furious. Then, seized by– let's face it– irrational anger, I vow to myself that when I catch Ciri– immediately after catching her– I'll order Rience to pluck out one of those huge, green eyes. With his fingers. With these fingers, as he likes to say. You're saying nothing, Yennefer? Perhaps because you know I'd also like to rip out one of your eyes? Or both?\"\n\nHe stuck thick needles into the veins on the back of her hands. Sometimes he missed and jabbed to the very bone. Yennefer gritted her teeth." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You've caused me problems. You've made me interrupt my work. You've exposed me to risk. Forcing your way over the Sedna Abyss in that boat, towards my Maelstrom... The echo of our brief duel was powerful and travelled far, it may have reached the wrong ears, prying ears. But I couldn't stop myself. The thought that I would have you here, that I'd be able to connect you up to my scanner, was too appealing.\n\n\"For you can't possibly imagine– \"he stuck in another needle\" – that I was taken in by your provocation? That I swallowed the bait? No, Yennefer. If you think so, you're mistaking stars reflected in the surface of a pond at night for the sky. You thought you were tracking me, whereas in fact I was tracking you. You made my job easier by sailing over the Abyss. For I cannot find Ciri, you see, even with the help of my peerless scanning device. The girl has powerful, innate defence mechanisms, her own powerful anti-magical and suppressive aura: it's the Elder Blood, after all. But my super-scanners ought to detect her anyhow. Yet they don't.\"\n\nYennefer was now completely entwined in a network of silver and copper wires and encased in a scaffolding of silver and porcelain tubes. Glass vessels containing colourless liquids wobbled on racks placed by the chair.\n\n\"And so I thought–\" Vilgefortz thrust another tube into her nose, this time a glass one\"– that the only way of tracking Ciri was an empathic probe. For that I needed someone who had a sufficiently strong emotional bond with the girl and had developed an empathic matrix, a kind of algorithm– to coin a phrase– of feelings and mutual affection. I thought about the Witcher, but he had disappeared, and besides, witchers are poor mediums. I planned to order the kidnapping of Triss Merigold, our Fourteenth from the Hill. I pondered over abducting Nenneke of Ellander... But when it turned out that you, Yennefer of Vengerberg, were literally forcing yourself into my hands... Truly I couldn't have hoped for anything better... Once connected to the scanner you will track down Ciri for me. Admittedly, the operation requires your cooperation... But there are, as you know, ways of making people cooperate." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Of course,\" he went on, rubbing his hands, \"you deserve a few explanations. For example– how did I find out about the Elder Blood? About Lara Dorren's legacy? What that gene actually is? How Ciri ended up having it? Who passed it onto her? How will I take it from her and what will I use it for? How does the Sedna Maelstrom work, who have I sucked into it, what did I do with them and why? Plenty of questions, aren't there? It's such a pity there's no time to tell you everything, explain everything. Nay, even astonish you, for I'm certain several of the facts would astonish you, Yennefer... But, as has been said before, there's no time. The elixirs are beginning to take effect, so it's time you started concentrating. '\n\nThe sorceress clenched her teeth, stifling the deep groan shooting from her guts.\n\n\"I know,\" Vilgefortz nodded, drawing closer a professional looking megascope; a screen and a great crystal ball on a tripod, wrapped around by a web of silver wires. \"I know it's most disagreeable. And very painful. The sooner you set about scanning, the sooner it'll be over. Well, Yennefer. I want to see Ciri, here, on this screen. Where she is, who she's with, what she's doing, what she eats, where and with whom she sleeps.\"\n\nYennefer screamed shrilly and wildly, in despair.\n\n\"It hurts,\" Vilgefortz guessed, staring at her with his living eye and his dead crystal. \"Well, of course it hurts. Start scanning, Yennefer. Don't resist. Don't play the hero. You know full well it's impossible to endure this. The result of resistance maybe pitiful; a stroke will follow, you'll suffer paraplegia or simply turn into a vegetable. Start scanning!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She clenched her jaw so hard her teeth creaked.\n\n\"Why not, Yennefer?\" the mage said kindly. \"If only out of curiosity! You're surely curious about how your darling's coping. Perhaps danger is hanging over her? Perhaps she's in need? You know, after all, how many people wish Ciri ill and desire her death. Start scanning. When I find out where the girl is, I'll bring her here. She'll be safe... No one will find her here. Ever. '\n\nHis voice was warm and velvety.\n\n\"Start scanning, Yennefer. Start scanning. I implore you. I give you my word: I'll only take what I need from Ciri. And then I'll give both of you your freedom. I swear.\"\n\nYennefer gritted her teeth even harder. Blood trickled down her chin. Vilgefortz suddenly stood up and beckoned.\n\n\"Rience!\"\n\nYennefer felt some kind of device tightening over her hands and fingers.\n\n\"At times,\" said Vilgefortz, bending over her, \"where magic, elixirs and narcotics fail, what works on the stubborn is good old-fashioned pain. Don't make me do it. Start scanning. '\n\n\"Go to hell, Vilgefoooortz!\"\n\n\"Tighten the screws, Rience. Slowly.\"\n\nVilgefortz glanced at the torpid body being dragged across the floor towards the stairs to the cellar. Then he lifted his eye towards Rience and Schirrú.\n\n\"There's always the risk, \"he said,\"that one of you will fall into the hands of my enemies and be interrogated. I'd like to think that you'll demonstrate as much fortitude. Yes, I'd like to think so. But I don't. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rience and Schirrú said nothing. Vilgefortz started up the megascope again and projected the image generated by the huge crystal onto the screen.\n\n\"That's all she could produce, \"he said, pointing.\"I wanted Cirilla, she gave me the Witcher. Fascinating. She didn't allow the girl's empathic matrix to be wrested from her, but she cracked when it came to Geralt. And I didn't suspect her of harbouring any feelings for Geralt at all... Well, for now let's settle for what we have. Witcher, Cahir aep Ceallach, the bard Dandelion, some woman? Hmmm... Who'll undertake this task? The final solution to the witcher problem?\"\n\nSchirrú volunteered, recalled Rience, raising himself up in the stirrups to give his saddle-sore buttocks at least some relief. Schirrú volunteered to kill the Witcher. He recognised the countryside Yennefer had traced Geralt and his company to; he had friends or family there. Vilgefortz sent me, meanwhile, to negotiate with Vattier de Rideaux, and then to tail Skellen and Bonhart...\n\nAnd I– stupidly– was glad at the time, certain that the easier and more pleasant task had fallen tome. One I would make short, easy, pleasant work of...\n\n\"If the peasants weren't lying– \"Stefan Skellen stood up in his stirrups\" – the lake must be over that hill, in the valley. '\n\n\"The trail leads there,\" Boreas Mun confirmed.\n\n\"Why have we stopped here?\" Rience rubbed a frozen ear. \"Spur on the horses and let's go! '\n\n\"Not so fast.\" Bonhart held him back. \"Let's split up. We'll encircle the valley. We don't know which of the lake's shores she took. If we choose the wrong way, we may put the lake between us.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"How very true,\" Boreas nodded.\n\n\"The lake's frozen over. '\n\n\"It maybe too thin for the horses. Bonhart's right, we must split up. '\n\nSkellen quickly issued orders. The group led by Bonhart, Rience and Ola Harsheim, numbering seven horses in total, galloped along the eastern shore, quickly disappearing into the black forest.\n\n\"Very well,\" Tawny Owl ordered. \"Let's go, Silifant... '\n\nHe realised at once that something wasn't right.\n\nHe reined his horse around, slapped it with his knout and rode directly for Joanna Selborne. Kenna backed up her mount, and her face seemed to be made of stone.\n\n\"It's no use, sir, \"she said hoarsely.\"Don't even try. We're not going with you. We're turning back. We've had enough. '\n\n\"We?\" Dacre Silifant yelled. \"Who's\"we\"? What is this, a mutiny? '\n\nSkellen leaned over in the saddle and spat on the frozen earth. Andres Vierny and Til Echrade, the fair-haired elf, had stopped behind Kenna.\n\n\"Miss Selborne,\" said Tawny Owl scathingly, in a slow, drawling voice, \"It isn't the point that you are squandering a very promising career, that you're permanently throwing away the chance of a lifetime. You'll be handed over to the hangman. Along with these fools who've listened to you.\"\n\n\"Whoever's meant to hang won't drown,\" Kenna replied philosophically. \"And don't threaten us with the hangman, sir. For who knows who's closer to the scaffold; you or us.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Is that what you think?\" Tawny Owl's eyes flashed.\"You're convinced of that after slyly eavesdropping on somebody's thoughts? I thought you were cleverer than that. But you're stupid, woman. Whoever's with me wins, whoever's against me always loses! Remember that, girl. Even though you think I'm incriminated now, I'll still manage to send you to hang. Do you hear, you mutineers? I'll have your flesh torn from your bones with red hooks. '\n\n\"We have but one life, sir,\" Til Echrade said softly. \"You've chosen your way, and we've chosen ours. Both are uncertain and risky. And no one knows what fate will befall any of us.\"\n\n\"You won't set us on the girl like dogs, Mr Skellen, sir. \"Kenna raised her head proudly.\"And we won't let ourselves be killed like dogs, like Neratin Ceka. Oh, enough talking. We're turning back! Boreas! Come with us. '\n\n\"No.\" The tracker shook his head, wiping his forehead with his fur hat. \"Farewell. I don't wish you ill. But I'm staying. It's my service. I took the oath. '\n\n\"To whom?\" Kenna frowned. \"The Emperor or Tawny Owl? Ora sorcerer talking from a box?\"\n\n\"I'm a soldier. I serve. '\n\n\"Wait,\" called Dufficey Kriel, riding out from behind Dacre Silifant. \"I'm with you. I've had enough of this too! Last night I dreamed of my own death. I don't want to croak for this lousy, suspicious affair! '\n\n\"Traitors!\" yelled Dacre, flushing like a cherry. It seemed as though dark blood would spurt from his face. \"Turncoats! Miserable curs!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Shut your trap.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Tawny Owl was still looking at Kenna, and his eyes were just as hideous as the bird from which he took his name. \"They've chosen their way; you heard. There's no point shouting or wasting spit. But we'll meet again one day. I promise you. '\n\n\"Perhaps even on the same scaffold,\" Kenna said without spitefulness. \"For they won't put you to death alongside noble princes, will they Skellen? But with us churls. But you're right, there's no point wasting spit. Let's be going. Farewell, Boreas. Farewell, Mr Silifant.\"\n\nDacre spat over his horse's ears.\n\n\"And beyond what I've said here– \"Joanna Selborne proudly raised her head, brushing a dark lock from her forehead\" – I have nothing to add, Illustrious Tribunal. '\n\nThe convenor of the tribunal looked down on her. His face was inscrutable. His eyes grey. And decent.\n\nAnyway, what do I care? thought Kenna. I'll try. You can only die once; sink or swim. I'm not going to rot in the citadel and wait for death. Tawny Owl didn't make wild promises, he's liable to take revenge even from beyond the grave...\n\nWhat do I care? Perhaps they won't notice. Sink or swim!\n\nShe pressed her hand to her nose, seemingly wiping it. She looked straight into the grey eyes of the tribunal convener.\n\n\"Guard!\" said the convener. \"Please take the witness Joanna Selborne back to...\"\n\nHe broke off and started coughing. Sweat suddenly broke out on his forehead.\n\n\"To the tribunal chancellery,\" he finished, sniffing loudly. \"Write out the appropriate documents. And release her. The witness Selborne is of no further use to the court.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Kenna surreptitiously wiped away the drop of blood that was trickling from her nose." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She smiled charmingly and thanked him with a delicate bow.\n\n\"They've deserted? \"Bonhart repeated in disbelief.\"More of them have deserted? And just rode away, like that? Skellen? You permitted it? '\n\n\"If they inform onus...\" Rience began, but Tawny Owl interrupted him at once.\n\n\"They won't inform, because they don't want to lose their own heads! And besides, what could I have done? When Kriel joined them, only Bert and Mun were left with me and there were four of them...\"\n\n\"Four,\" said Bonhart malevolently, \"isn't many at all. As soon as we've caught up with the girl I'll go after them. And I'll feed them to the crows. In the name of-\"\n\n\"Let's catch her up first, \"Tawny Owl cut him off, urging on his grey with his knout.\"Boreas! Keep your eyes on the trail! '\n\nThe valley was filling up with a dense blanket of fog, but they knew that down below was a lake, because there was a lake in every valley in Mil Trachta. The one, meanwhile, to which the black mare's hoof prints were leading, was undoubtedly the one they were looking for, the one Vilgefortz had ordered them to look for. Which he had described to them precisely. And whose name he had given them.\n\nTarn Mira.\n\nThe lake was narrow, no wider than an arrow shot, crowded into a slightly bent crescent between high, steep hillsides covered in black spruce, beautifully sprinkled with a white, snowy powder. The hillsides were swathed in such a silence that there was a ringing in their ears. Even the crows– whose portentous cawing had accompanied them on the trail for the last fortnight or so– had fallen silent." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"This is the southern end,\" stated Bonhart. \"If the mage hasn't made a hash of everything and landed us in it, the magical tower is on the northern shore. Keep your eyes on the trail, Boreas! If we pickup the wrong one, the lake will separate us from her! '\n\n\"The trail is clear!\" Boreas Mun called from below. \"And fresh! It's leading towards the lake! '\n\n\"Ride!\" Skellen brought his grey, skittering on the steep slope, under control. \"Downhill!\"\n\nThey rode down the slope, cautiously, reining back the snorting horses. They struggled through the bare, black, ice-covered thicket blocking the way to the bank.\n\nBonhart's horse stepped gingerly onto the ice, crunching through the dry reeds sticking up from the glazed surface. The ice creaked and long arrows of cracks diverged like a star from under the horse's hooves.\n\n\"About face!\" Bonhart pulled in the reins and turned his snorting horseback towards the bank. \"Dismount! The ice is thin.\"\n\n\"Only by the bank, in the reeds,\" Dacre Silifant judged, striking a heel onto the icy crust. \"But even here it's at least an inch and a half. It'll hold a horse sure as anything, no need to wo-\"\n\nHis words were drowned out by cursing and neighing. Skellen's grey slipped, sat down on its haunches, and its legs spread apart under it. Skellen struck it with his spurs, swore again, and this time the curse was accompanied by the harsh crunch of ice breaking. The grey pounded with its fore hooves. Its hind ones, imprisoned, thrashed about in the tangle, breaking up the ice and churning the dark water spurting from under it. Tawny Owl dismounted, tugged on the reins, but slipped and went sprawling, miraculously not falling under the hooves of his own horse. The two Gemmerians, now also on their feet, helped him up. Ola Harsheim and Bert Brigden hauled the whinnying grey out onto the bank." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Dismount,\" Bonhart repeated, his eyes fixed on the fog covering the lake. \"There's no sense risking it. We'll catch up with the maid on foot. She also dismounted, she's also moving on foot. '\n\n\"How very true,\" confirmed Boreas Mun, pointing at the lake. \"It's plain to see. '\n\nOnly at the very edge, beneath overhanging branches, was the crust of ice smooth and translucent, like the dark glass of a bottle. Under it reeds and water plants turned brown were visible. Further from the bank, the ice was covered in a very thin layer of wet snow. And on it, as far as the fog permitted them to see, were dark footprints.\n\n\"We have her!\" Rience cried heatedly, throwing his reins on a broken bough. \"So she's not as cunning as she seems! She set off on the ice, straight across the middle of the lake. Had she chosen one of the banks or the forest, it wouldn't have been easy to pursue her!\"\n\n\"Straight across the middle of the lake...\" Bonhart repeated, giving the impression of being lost in thought. \"The shortest and straightest way to the alleged magical tower Vilgefortz talked about leads across the middle of the lake. She knows that. Mun? How far ahead of us is she?\"\n\nBoreas Mun, who was already on the lake, knelt down over a boot print, leaned over low and examined it.\n\n\"A half-hour,\" he estimated. \"Not more. It's getting warmer, but the print isn't fuzzy, you can see every hobnail in the sole.\"\n\n\"The lake,\" mumbled Bonhart, vainly trying to look through the fog, \"stretches north for more than five miles. So said Vilgefortz. If the maid has half an hour's start, she's about a mile ahead of us.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"On slippery ice?\" Mun shook his head. \"Not even that. Six, seven furlongs, at most.\"\n\n\"Even better! March!\"\n\n\"March,\" Tawny Owl repeated. \"Onto the ice and quick march!\"\n\nThey walked swiftly, puffing. The quarry's closeness excited them, filled them with euphoria like a narcotic.\n\n\"She won't escape us! '\n\n\"As long as we don't lose the trail... '\n\n\"And as long as she isn't leading us up the garden path in this fog... It's white as milk... You can't see twenty paces ahead, dammit... '\n\n\"Move your arses,\" Rience snarled. \"Quick, quick! As long as there's snow on the ice, we're following her trail...\"\n\n\"The trail is fresh,\" Boreas Mun suddenly muttered, stopping and stooping down. \"Very fresh... You can seethe print of every hobnail... She's just in front of us... Justin front of us... Why can't we see her?\"\n\n\"And why can't we hear her? \"Ola Harsheim wondered.\"Our footsteps boom on the ice, the snow creaks. So why don't we hear her?\"\n\n\"Because you're yakking! \"Rience cut them off abruptly.\"Keep marching! '\n\nBoreas Mun took off his hat to wipe his sweat-covered forehead.\n\n\"She's there, in the fog, \"he said softly.\"Somewhere there, in the fog... But the devil knows where. The devil knows whence she'll strike... Like back there... In Dun Dare... On Samhain Eve...\"\n\nHe began to draw his sword from its scabbard with a trembling hand. Tawny Owl leaped at him, seized him by the arm and tugged him forcefully." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Shut your trap, you old fool,\" he hissed.\n\nBut it was too late. The terror had spread to the others. They also drew their swords, involuntarily positioning themselves to have one of their companions behind them.\n\n\"She's not a spectre! \"Rience snapped loudly.\"She isn't even a witch! And there are ten of us! In Dun Dare there were only four and they were all drunk!\"\n\n\"Spread out,\" said Bonhart suddenly, \"to the left and right, in a line. And move forward together! Don't lose sight of each other. '\n\n\"You too?\" Rience grimaced. \"Has it infected you too, Bonhart? I thought you were less superstitious than that.\" The bounty hunter looked at him with eyes that were colder than ice.\n\n\"Spread out into a line,\" he repeated, ignoring the sorcerer. \"Keep your distance. I'm going back for my horse. '\n\n\"What?\"\n\nBonhart didn't grace Rience with an answer again. Rience swore, but Tawny Owl quickly placed a hand on his shoulder.\n\n\"Leave it,\" he snapped, \"let him go. And let's not waste time! Ina line! Bert and Stigward, left! Ola, right... '\n\n\"What for, Skellen?\"\n\n\"The ice will break more easily under men walking in a group,\" Boreas Mun muttered, \"than spread out in a line. Furthermore, if we walk in a line abreast, there's less of a risk the wench will outflank us. '\n\n\"Outflank us?\" Rience snorted. \"How could she? The tracks in front of us areas plain as a pikestaff. The maid is going straight ahead. Were she to try to turn, the trail would betray it-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Enough chatter.\" Tawny Owl cut them off, looking back into the fog into which Bonhart had vanished as he left them. \"Forward!\" They went on.\n\n\"It's getting warmer, \"Boreas Mun panted.\"The ice on top is melting, it'll form overflow ice...\"\n\n\"The fog's getting thicker... '\n\n\"But the footprints can still be seen,\" said Dacre Silifant. \"Moreover, it seems the girl has slowed down. Her strength is waning.\"\n\n\"As is ours,\" Rience tore off his hat and fanned himself with it.\n\n\"Quiet,\" Silifant suddenly stopped. \"Did you hear that? What was it?\"\n\n\"I didn't hear anything. '\n\n\"But I did... Like a scraping... A scraping on the ice... But not from there,\" Boreas Mun pointed at the fog, into which the trail was fading. \"It seems to be over on the left, to the side...\"\n\n\"I heard it too,\" Tawny Owl confirmed, looking anxiously around. \"But now it's gone quiet. Dammit, I don't like it. I don't like it! '\n\n\"The footprints!\" Rience said with wearied emphasis. \"We can still see her footprints! Don't you have eyes? She's walking straight ahead! If she took even a single step to one side we'd know it from the trail! Quick march, we'll have her soon! I give my word, we'll see her in a moment-'\n\nHe broke off. Boreas Mun sighed so hard his lungs groaned. Tawny Owl cursed.\n\nTen paces in front of them, just before the limit of visibility bordered by the dense fog, the tracks ended. They vanished." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"A pox on it!\"\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\n\"Has she taken flight or what?\"\n\n\"No.\" Boreas Mun shook his head. \"She hasn't. It's worse.\"\n\nRience swore crudely, pointing at scratches in the icy crust.\n\n\"Skates,\" he growled, involuntarily clenching his fists. \"She has skates... Now she's darting across the ice like the wind... We won't catch her! What, damn his eyes, has become of Bonhart? We won't catch the maid without horses! '\n\nBoreas Mun hawked loudly and sighed. Skellen slowly unbuttoned his sheepskin coat, uncovering a bandolier with a row of orions slung across his chest.\n\n\"We won't have to hunt her, \"he said coldly.\"She'll be the one hunting us. I'm afraid we won't have long to wait.\"\n\n\"Have you gone mad?\"\n\n\"Bonhart anticipated this. That's why he went back for his horse. He knew the girl would lure us into a trap. Beware! Listen for the grating of skates on ice! '\n\nDacre Silifant paled visibly despite his cheeks being flushed from the cold.\n\n\"Fellows!\" he yelled. \"Beware! Take heed! And gather together! Don't get lost in the fog! '\n\n\"Shut up!\" Tawny Owl roared. \"Keep quiet! Absolute silence or we won't hear... '\n\nThey heard. A short, strangled cry reached their ears from the fog to the left, from the furthest end of the line. And the sharp, rough grating of skates, making the hair stand on end like iron scoring glass. \"Bert!\" Tawny Owl yelled. \"Bert! What's happening over there? '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They heard an unintelligible cry, and a moment later Bert Brigden emerged from the fog, fleeing pell-mell. As soon as he was near he slipped, fell over and slid across the ice on his stomach.\n\n\"She got... Stigward,\" he panted out, struggling to getup. \"She cut him down... as she flashed past... So swiftly... I barely saw her... She's a witch... '\n\nSkellen swore. Silifant and Mun, both with swords in hand, whirled around, staring goggle-eyed into the fog. Grating. Grating. Grating. Quick. Rhythmic. And more and more clearly. More and more clearly.\n\n\"Where's it coming from? \"roared Boreas Mun, spinning around, flourishing the blade of his sword two-handed.\"Where's it coming from?\"\n\n\"Quiet!\" screamed Tawny Owl with an orion in his raised hand. \"I think it's from the right! Yes! From the right! She's coming upon the right! Lookout!\"\n\nThe Gemmerian walking on the right wing suddenly cursed, turned around and ran blindly into the fog, sloshing through the melting layer of ice. He didn't get far, not even out of sight. They heard the sharp grating of skates gliding and made out a blurred, flickering shadow. And the flash of a sword. The Gemmerian howled. They saw him fall, saw abroad spray of blood on the ice. The wounded man thrashed about, curled up, screamed and moaned. Then he fell silent and stopped moving.\n\nBut while he was still moaning he drowned out the sound of the skates. They didn't expect the girl to be able to turn back so swiftly." }, { "from": "human", "value": "She fell among them, right in their midst." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She cleaved Ola Harsheim as she flashed past, low, beneath the knee, folding him up like a penknife. She spun in a pirouette, covering Boreas Mun in a stinging hail of icy shards. Skellen leaped aside, slipped and caught Rience by a sleeve. They both fell over. The skates grated just beside them and cold, sharp fragments stung their faces. One of the Gemmerians yelled and his cry broke off in a savage croak. Tawny Owl knew what had happened. He'd heard many people having their throats cut.\n\nOla Harsheim shouted, rolling around on the ice.\n\nGrating. Grating. Grating.\n\nSilence.\n\n\"Mr Stefan,\" Dacre Silifant gibbered. \"Mr Stefan... You're my only hope... Save me... Don't let me-\"\n\n\"She's fucking crippled meeeee! \"Ola Harsheim bellowed.\"Help me, for fuck's sake! Help me getup!\"\n\n\"Bonhart!\" Skellen yelled into the fog. \"Bonhaaaart! Heeeelp us! Where are you, you whoreson? Bonhaaaart!\"\n\n\"She's got us surrounded, \"Boreas Mun gasped, spinning around and straining to hear.\"She's skating around us in the fog... She'll strike at will... Death! That wench is death! We'll breathe our last here! It'll be a massacre, like it was on Samhain Eve in Dun Dare... '\n\n\"Stick together,\" Skellen groaned. \"Stick together, she's picking us off one by one... When you see her looming up, don't lose your heads... Trip her up with swords, saddlebags, belts... Use anything to stop her-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He broke off. This time, they didn't even hear the scraping of skates. Dacre Silifant and Rience saved their lives by dropping flat onto the ice. Boreas Mun managed to jump aside, slipped, fell over and upended Bert Brigden. As the girl flashed by, Skellen swung and threw an orion. It found a target. But not the right one. Ola Harsheim, who had managed to getup, tumbled over in convulsions onto the blood-spattered ice; his staring eyes seemed to cross on the steel star sticking out of the bridge of his nose.\n\nThe last of the Gemmerians threw down his sword and began to sob in short, choking spasms. Skellen sprang at him and struck him hard in the face.\n\n\"Pull yourself together!\" he roared. \"Get a grip on yourself! It's just one girl! Just one girl! '\n\n\"Like in Dun Dare on Samhain Eve,\" said Boreas Mun softly. \"We shall never get off this ice, off this lake. Listen out, listen out! And you'll hear death gliding towards you. '\n\nSkellen picked up the Gemmerian's sword and tried to shove it into the sobbing man's hand, but unsuccessfully. The Gemmerian, racked by spasms, turned his dull gaze onto him. Tawny Owl threw down the sword and jumped at Rience.\n\n\"Do something, sorcerer!\" he roared, tugging at his arm. Terror redoubled his strength, and although Rience was taller, heavier and more powerful, he flopped around in Tawny Owl's grasp like a rag doll.\"Do something! Summon that high and mighty Vilgefortz of yours! Work some magic yourself! Work magic, perform witchcraft, invoke spirits, conjure up demons! Do something– anything– you little turd! Do something, before that she-phantom kills us all! '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The echo of his cry boomed across the forested hillsides. Before it died away, the skates grated again. The sobbing Gemmerian fell to his knees and covered his face in his hands. Bert Brigden howled, flung his sword away and bolted. He slipped, fell over and scampered fora few paces on all fours, like a dog.\n\n\"Rience!\"\n\nThe sorcerer swore and raised a hand. Ashe chanted the spell, his hand was trembling, his voice too. But he was successful. Though not, admittedly, completely successful.\n\nThe threadlike, fiery lightning bolt spurting from his fingers carved up the ice, fracturing the surface. But not crossways, as it should have, to bar the way of the approaching girl. It broke lengthways. The crust of ice cleaved open with aloud cracking sound, black water gushed and rumbled, and the rapidly widening rift shot towards Dacre Silifant, who was looking on in stupefaction.\n\n\"Jump aside!\" Skellen yelled. \"Ruuuuuun!\"\n\nIt was too late. The crack sped between Silifant's legs and split open, the ice shattering like glass and breaking into huge slabs. Dacre lost his balance, and the water stifled his howl. Boreas Mun fell into the breach, the kneeling Gemmerian vanished under the water, and Ola Harsheim's body disappeared. Rience plopped after them into the black depths, followed by Skellen, who managed to catch hold of the edge at the last moment. Meanwhile, the girl pushed off powerfully and flew over the breach, landing so hard the melting ice splashed, and darted after the fleeing Brigden. A moment later a hair-raising scream reached the ears of Tawny Owl, who was hanging onto the edge of the ice floe." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She'd caught up with him.\n\n\"Sir...\" moaned Boreas Mun, who by some miracle had managed to crawl out onto the ice. \"Give me your hand... My lord coroner...\"\n\nAfter being hauled out, Skellen turned blue and began to shiver violently. The edge of the ice was breaking under Silifant, who was struggling to drag himself out. Dacre vanished beneath the water again. But he surfaced at once, choking and spitting, and dragged himself onto the ice with superhuman effort. He crawled out and collapsed, exhausted to the limits. A puddle spread out beside him. Boreas moaned and closed his eyes. Skellen was trembling.\n\n\"Save me... Mun... Help...\"\n\nRience hung onto the edge of the ice, submerged up to his armpits. His wet hair was plastered smoothly to his skull. His teeth were chattering like castanets, sounding like a ghoulish overture to some infernal danse macabre. The skates grated. Boreas didn't move. He waited. Skellen was trembling.\n\nShe approached. Slowly. Blood trickled from her sword, marking the ice with a trail of drops. Boreas swallowed. Although he was soaked to the skin with icy water, he suddenly felt unbearably hot.\n\nBut the girl wasn't looking at him. She was looking at Rience, who was vainly struggling to get out onto the ice.\n\n\"Help me...\" Rience overcame the chattering of his teeth. \"Save me...\"\n\nThe girl braked, whirling on the skates with the grace of a dancer. She stood with legs slightly apart, holding her sword in both hands, low, across her thighs.\n\n\"Help me...\" Rience howled, digging his numbing fingers into the ice. \"Save me... And I'll tell you... where Yennefer is... I swear... '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The girl slowly pulled the scarf from her face and smiled. Boreas Mun saw the hideous scar and fought to stifle a shout.\n\n\"Rience,\" said Ciri, still smiling. \"You were going to teach me pain, weren't you? Do you remember? With those hands. With those fingers. Those ones? Those, the ones you're holding the ice with?\"\n\nRience answered, but Boreas didn't understand what he said, for the sorcerer's teeth were chattering and rattling so much they made articulated speech impossible. Ciri spun around on her skates and lifted the sword. Boreas clenched his teeth, convinced she would slash Rience, but the girl was picking up momentum to set off. To the tracker's astonishment she skated away, quickly, gathering speed with powerful thrusts. She vanished into the fog, and a moment later the rhythmic scraping of the skates also died away.\n\n\"Mun... Puuull... me... out...\" Rience barked out, chin on the edge of the ice floe. He flung both hands on the ice, trying to hang on with his fingernails, which had largely been torn away. He spread his fingers, trying to cling to the blood-stained ice with his hands and wrists. Boreas Mun looked at him and was certain, terrifyingly certain...\n\nThey heard the grinding of the skates at the last moment. The girl approached at extraordinary speed, literally a blur. She skated up at the very edge of the floe, speeding along right beside the brink.\n\nRience screamed. And choked on the viscous, leaden water. And vanished.\n\nThere was blood on the ice, on the perfectly even tracks left by the skates. And fingers. Eight fingers." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Boreas Mun vomited on the ice.\n\nBonhart galloped along the edge of the lake, hurtling along, heedless that any moment the horse might break its legs on the snow-covered clefts. Frosted over spruce branches lashed his face, and whipped his arms, and icy powder poured down his collar.\n\nHe couldn't seethe lake. The entire valley was filled with fog, like a bubbling witch's cauldron.\n\nBut Bonhart knew the girl was there.\n\nHe sensed it.\n\nDeep under the ice, a school of striped perch curiously followed the silver, fascinatingly glimmering casket which had slipped out of the pocket of a corpse floating in the water. Before the casket had sunk to the bottom, raising a cloud of silt, the boldest of the perch even tried to nudge it with their snouts. But they suddenly took flight in terror.\n\nThe casket was emitting strange, alarming vibrations.\n\n\"Rience? Can you hear me? What's been going on? Why haven't you responded for two days? Give me your report! What about the maid? You can't let her enter the tower! Do you hear? You can't let her enter the Tower of the Swallow... Rience! Answer, dammit! Rience!\"\n\nRience, naturally, could not answer.\n\nThe embankment came to an end, the shore flattened out. It's the end of the lake, thought Bonhart, I've done it. I've trapped the maid. Where is she? And where's that sodding tower?\n\nThe curtain of fog suddenly ruptured and lifted. And then he saw her. She was right in front of him, sitting on her black mare. She's a witch, he thought, she communicates with that beast. She sent it to the end of the lake and ordered it to wait for her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But that won't help her.\n\nI have to kill her. The devil take Vilgefortz. I have to kill her. First I'll make her beg for her life... And then I'll kill her.\n\nHe yelled, pricked his horse with his spurs and launched into a breakneck gallop.\n\nAnd suddenly realised he had lost. That she'd deceived him.\n\nNot more than a furlong separated him from her– but over thin ice. She was on the other side of the lake. What's more, the crescent of open water now curved around the opposite way– the girl, riding along the'bowstring', was much closer to the end of the lake than he was.\n\nBonhart swore, tugged on the reins and steered his horse onto the ice.\n\n\"Ride, Kelpie!\"\n\nFrozen earth shot from under the black mare's hooves.\n\nCiri clung to the horse's neck. The sight of Bonhart pursuing her filled her with dread... She was afraid of him. An invisible fist tightened on her stomach at the thought of facing him in combat.\n\nNo, she couldn't fight him. Not yet.\n\nThe Tower. Only the tower could save her. And the portal. As on Thanedd, when the sorcerer Vilgefortz was upon her, was already reaching for her...\n\nThe only hope was the Tower of the Swallow.\n\nThe fog lifted.\n\nCiri reined in her horse, suddenly feeling a dreadful heat. Unable to believe what she saw. What was in front of her.\n\nBonhart saw it too. And yelled triumphantly.\n\nThere was no tower at the end of the lake. There weren't even the ruins of a tower; there was nothing. Just a barely visible, barely outlined hillock, just a mound of boulders covered in frozen, leafless stalks." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That's your tower! \"he roared.\"That's your magical tower! That's your salvation! A heap of stones! '\n\nThe girl seemed not to hear or see. She urged the mare nearer the hillock, onto the stony mound. She raised both hands towards the sky, as though cursing the heavens for what had befallen her.\n\n\"I told you that you were mine!\" roared Bonhart, spurring on his bay. \"That I'll do what I want with you! That no one will stop me from doing it! Not people, not gods, not devils, nor demons! Or enchanted towers! You're mine, witcher girl!\"\n\nThe bay's shoes jangled on the icy surface of the lake.\n\nThe fog suddenly swirled, boiled under the impact of a strong wind appearing as if from nowhere. The bay whinnied and danced, baring its teeth on the bit. Bonhart leaned back in the saddle, and tugged on the reins with all his might, because the horse was frantic, tossing its head, stamping and slipping on the ice.\n\nIn front of him– between him and the shore where Ciri was standing– a snowy-white unicorn was dancing on the ice, rearing up, as if on a heraldic shield.\n\n\"Don't try tricks like that on me! \"roared the bounty hunter, fighting to get control of his horse.\"You won't frighten me with sorcery! I'll catch you, Ciri! I'll kill you this time, witcher girl! You're mine! '\n\nThe fog swirled again, and seethed, forming bizarre shapes. The shapes became clearer and clearer. They were horsemen. Nightmarish silhouettes of eerie horsemen." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Bonhart stared goggle-eyed.\n\nSkeleton riders rode skeleton horses, dressed in rust-riddled armour and chainmail, ragged cloaks, dented and corroded helmets decorated with buffalo horns and the remains of ostrich and peacock plumes. The spectres' eyes shined with a bluish light from under their visors. Ragged pennants swished.\n\nAn armed man with a crown on his helmet and a necklace bumping against the rusty cuirass on his chest, galloped at the head of the demonic cavalcade.\n\nBegone, rumbled a voice in Bonhart's head. Begone, mortal. She is not yours. She is ours. Begone! There was no denying Bonhart had one thing: courage. He did not take fright at the apparitions. He overcame his terror, and did not give into panic.\n\nBut his horse turned out to be less resolute.\n\nThe bay reared, danced ballet-like on its hind legs, whinnied frantically, kicked and pranced. The ice broke with a horrifying crunching sound under the impact of its hooves, the sheets of ice stood up vertically and water gushed out. The horse squealed and struck the edge with its forehooves, fracturing it. Bonhart yanked his feet from the stirrups and jumped. Too late.\n\nThe water closed over his head. There was a drumming and a ringing as though in a belfry. His lungs were full to bursting.\n\nHe was lucky. His feet– kicking out in the water– struck something, probably his horse as it sank to the bottom. He pushed off, bursting from the water, spitting and gasping. He seized hold of the edge of the ice hole. Without yielding to panic, he drew a knife, drove it into the ice and hauled himself out. He lay, panting heavily, the water trickling from him and splashing down." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The lake, the ice, the snowbound hillsides, the black and frost-encrusted spruce forest– all of a sudden everything was flooded with an unnatural, pallid light.\n\nBonhart struggled to his knees with immense effort.\n\nAbove the horizon, the deep blue was lit by a crown of brightness, a luminous dome, from which fiery pillars and spirals suddenly rose and scintillating columns and vortices of light burst forth. Shimmering, flickering, rapidly-changing shapes, ribbons and curtains hung on the horizon.\n\nBonhart croaked. It was as though he had an iron garrotte around his throat.\n\nA tower had risen up where a moment before had been only a barren hillock and a pile of stones. Majestic, soaring and slender, black, glassy and gleaming, as though carved from a single piece of basalt. Fire flickered in the few windows and the aurora borealis glowed in the serrated battlements.\n\nHe saw the girl, looking towards him from the saddle. He saw her bright eyes and the cheek slashed by the line of an ugly scar. He saw the girl spur her black mare and unhurriedly ride into the black gloom, under the arched stone entrance.\n\nAnd disappear.\n\nThe aurora borealis exploded in dazzling swirls of fire.\n\nWhen Bonhart regained his sight, the tower was gone. There was the snow-topped hillock, the pile of stones, the withered black stalks.\n\nKneeling on the ice, in the puddle of water trickling from him, the bounty hunter screamed savagely, horribly. On his knees, arms raised towards the sky, he screamed, howled, swore and railed against people, gods and demons." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The echo of his cries rolled over the spruce-forested hillsides, drifted over the frozen surface of Tarn Mira lake.\n\nAt first, the inside of the tower reminded her of Kaer Morhen– the same long, black corridor behind a colonnade, the same unending abyss in the perspective of columns or statues. It was beyond comprehension how that abyss could fit into the slender obelisk of the tower. But she knew, of course, that there was no point analysing it– not in the case of a tower that had risen up from nothingness, appearing where it had not been before. There could be anything in such a tower and one ought not to be surprised by anything.\n\nShe looked back. She didn't believe Bonhart had dared– or managed– to enter after her. But she wanted to make certain. The colonnade she had ridden into blazed with an unnatural brilliance.\n\nKelpie's hooves rang on the floor; something crunched under them. Bones. Skulls, shinbones, ribcages, thighbones, hipbones. She was riding through a gigantic ossuarium. Kaer Morhen, she thought, recalling. The dead should be buried in the ground... How long ago that was... I still believed in something like that then... In the majesty of death, in respect for the dead... But death is simply death. And a dead person is just a cold corpse. It's not important where it's lying, where its bones decay.\n\nShe rode into the gloom, under the colonnade, among the columns and statues. The darkness undulated like smoke. Her ears were filled with intrusive whispers, sighs, and soft incantations. Suddenly brightness flamed before her, as a gigantic door opened. One door opened after another. Doors. An infinite number of heavy doors opened before her without a murmur." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kelpie went on, horseshoes resounding on the floor.\n\nThe geometry of the walls, arcades and columns surrounding her was suddenly disrupted; so confusingly that Ciri felt dizzy. She felt as though she were inside an impossible, multifaceted solid, some gigantic polyhedron.\n\nThe doors kept opening. But now they weren't delineating a single direction. They were pointing to infinite directions and possibilities.\n\nAnd Ciri began to see.\n\nA black-haired woman leading an ashen-haired girl by the hand. The girl is afraid, afraid of the dark, fears the whispers growing in the gloom, is terrified by the ringing of horseshoes. The black-haired woman with a star sparkling with diamonds around her neck is also afraid. But does not let it show. She leads the girl on. Towards her destiny.\n\nKelpie walks on. More doors.\n\nIola the Second and Eurneid, in sheepskin coats, with their bundles, marching along a frozen, snowy road. The sky is deep blue.\n\nMore doors.\n\nIola the First kneeling before an altar. Beside her is Mother Nenneke. They are both looking at something, their faces contorted in a grimace of dread. What do they see? The pastor the future? Truth or untruth?\n\nAbove Nenneke and Iola– hands. The hands of a woman with golden eyes held out in a gesture of blessing. In the woman's necklace– a diamond, shining like the morning star. On the woman's shoulder– a cat. Over her head– a falcon.\n\nMore doors.\n\nTriss Merigold holds back her glorious chestnut hair, buffeted and tugged by gusts of wind. There is no escape from the wind, nothing can shelter from the wind." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Not here. Not on the brow of the hill.\n\nAlong, unending row of shadows encroaches on the hill. Forms. They are walking slowly. Some turn their faces towards her. Familiar faces. Vesemir. Eskel. Lambert. Coen. Yarpen Zigrin and Paulie Dahlberg. Fabio Sachs... Jarre... Tissaia de Vries.\n\nMistle...\n\nGeralt?\n\nMore doors.\n\nYennefer, in chains, fastened to a dungeon wall dripping with water. Her hands area single mass of clotted blood. Her black hair is tousled and dishevelled... Her mouth is cut and swollen... But her will to fight and resistance are undamped in her violet eyes.\n\n\"Mummy! Hold on! Don't give up! I'm coming to help you!\"\n\nMore doors. Ciri turns her head away in distress. And embarrassment.\n\nGeralt. And a green-eyed woman with black, close-cropped hair. Both naked. Engrossed by and consumed with each other. With giving each other sensual pleasure.\n\nCiri fights to overcome the adrenaline tightening her throat and spurs Kelpie on. Hooves clatter. Whispers pulsate in the darkness.\n\nMore doors.\n\nWelcome, Ciri.\n\n\"Vysogota?\"\n\nI knew you would succeed, O courageous maiden. My brave Swallow. Did you emerge unharmed?\n\n\"I defeated them. On the ice. I had a surprise for them. Your daughter's skates... '\n\n\"I meant psychological harm.\"\n\n\"I held back from vengeance... I didn't kill them all... I didn't kill Tawny Owl... Even though he hurt and disfigured me. I controlled myself.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I knew you'd prevail, Zireael. And that you'd enter the tower. Why, I've read about it. Because it has already been described... It has all been written about. Do you know what learning gives you? The ability to make use of sources.\n\n\"How's it possible that we're talking... O Vysogota... are you...\"\n\nYes, Ciri. I'm dead. Oh, never mind! What I have learned is more important, what I have worked out... Now I know what became of the lost days, what happened in Korath desert, how you vanished from the sight of your pursuers...\n\n\"And how I entered here, entered this tower, right?\"\n\nThe Elder Blood that flows in your veins gives you power overtime. And over space. Over the dimensions and the spheres. You are now Master of the Worlds, Ciri. You have a mighty Power. Do not let criminals or rogues take it from you and use it to their own ends...\n\n\"I won't. '\n\nFarewell, Ciri. Farewell, Swallow.\n\n\"Farewell, Old Raven.\"\n\nMore doors. Brightness, dazzling brightness.\n\nAnd the heady scent of flowers.\n\nA mist lay on the lake, a haze as light as down, which the wind quickly blew away. The surface of the water was as smooth as a mirror, flowers shone white on green carpets of flat lily pads.\n\nThe banks drowned in leaves and flowers.\n\nIt was warm.\n\nIt was spring.\n\nCiri was not surprised. How could she be? After all, now everything was possible. November, ice, snow, frozen ground, the mound of stones on the hillock bristling with dried stalks– that was there. But here is here; here a soaring basalt tower crowned with serrated battlements, reflected in the green water of the lake, dotted with the white of waterlilies. Here it's May, for wild roses and bird cherry bloom in May, don't they?" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "As the writer's narrative assistant, advance the story.\nTags: fantasy, dark fantasy, chase\nAuthor: Andrzej Sapkowski\nTitle: The Tower of Swallows\nChapter: 22" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I knew you'd prevail, Zireael. And that you'd enter the tower. Why, I've read about it. Because it has already been described... It has all been written about. Do you know what learning gives you? The ability to make use of sources.\n\n\"How's it possible that we're talking... O Vysogota... are you...\"\n\nYes, Ciri. I'm dead. Oh, never mind! What I have learned is more important, what I have worked out... Now I know what became of the lost days, what happened in Korath desert, how you vanished from the sight of your pursuers...\n\n\"And how I entered here, entered this tower, right?\"\n\nThe Elder Blood that flows in your veins gives you power overtime. And over space. Over the dimensions and the spheres. You are now Master of the Worlds, Ciri. You have a mighty Power. Do not let criminals or rogues take it from you and use it to their own ends...\n\n\"I won't. '\n\nFarewell, Ciri. Farewell, Swallow.\n\n\"Farewell, Old Raven.\"\n\nMore doors. Brightness, dazzling brightness.\n\nAnd the heady scent of flowers.\n\nA mist lay on the lake, a haze as light as down, which the wind quickly blew away. The surface of the water was as smooth as a mirror, flowers shone white on green carpets of flat lily pads.\n\nThe banks drowned in leaves and flowers.\n\nIt was warm.\n\nIt was spring.\n\nCiri was not surprised. How could she be? After all, now everything was possible. November, ice, snow, frozen ground, the mound of stones on the hillock bristling with dried stalks– that was there. But here is here; here a soaring basalt tower crowned with serrated battlements, reflected in the green water of the lake, dotted with the white of waterlilies. Here it's May, for wild roses and bird cherry bloom in May, don't they?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nearby, somebody was playing on a whistle or a pan flute; they were playing a jolly, lively tune.\n\nOn the lakeside, two snow-white horses were drinking, fore hooves in the water. Kelpie snorted and banged a hoof against a rock. Then the horses lifted their heads and nostrils, dripping water, and Ciri sighed.\n\nBecause they weren't horses, but unicorns.\n\nCiri was not surprised. She was sighing in awe, not in astonishment.\n\nShe could hear the tune more and more clearly. It was coming from behind the shrubs of bird cherry festooned with white blossom. Kelpie moved towards the sound by herself, without any urging. Ciri swallowed. The two unicorns, as still as statues, reflected in the surface of the water as smooth as a mirror, looked at her.\n\nA fair-haired elf with a triangular face and huge, almond-shaped eyes was sitting on around stone beyond the bird cherry shrub. He played on, nimbly running his lips over the pipes. Although he could see Ciri and Kelpie– although he was looking at them– he didn't stop playing.\n\nThe small flowers gave off ascent; Ciri had never before encountered bird cherry with such an intense fragrance. No wonder, she thought quite soberly. Bird cherry blossom simply smells different in the world I've lived in until this moment.\n\nBecause everything is different in that world.\n\nThe elf finished his tune with along-drawn-out, high-pitched trill, took the instrument from his mouth and stood up.\n\n\"What took you so long?\" he asked with a smile. \"What kept you?\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Proceed with the plot as the storytelling partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: J.R.R. Tolkien\nTitle: The Two Towers\nChapter: 5" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "THE DEPARTURE OF BOROMIR\n\nAragorn sped on up the hill. Every now and again he bent to the ground. Hobbits go light, and their footprints are not easy even fora Ranger to read, but not far from the top a spring crossed the path, and in the wet earth he saw what he was seeking.\n\n\"I read the signs aright,\" he said to himself. \"Frodo ran to the hill-top. I wonder what he saw there? But he returned by the same way, and went down the hill again.\"\n\nAragorn hesitated. He desired to go to the high seat himself, hoping to see there something that would guide him in his perplexities; but time was pressing. Suddenly he leaped forward, and ran to the summit, across the great flag-stones, and up the steps. Then sitting in the high seat he looked out. But the sun seemed darkened, and the world dim and remote. He turned from the North back again to North, and saw nothing save the distant hills, unless it were that faraway he could see again a great birdlike an eagle high in the air, descending slowly in wide circles down towards the earth.\n\nEven as he gazed his quick ears caught sounds in the woodlands below, on the west side of the River. He stiffened. There were cries, and among them, to his horror, he could distinguish the harsh voices of Orcs. Then suddenly with a deep-throated calla great horn blew, and the blasts of it smote the hills and echoed in the hollows, rising in a mighty shout above the roaring of the falls.\n\n\"The horn of Boromir!\" he cried. \"He is in need!\" He sprang down the steps and away, leaping down the path. \"Alas! An ill fate is on me this day, and all that I do goes amiss. Where is Sam?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ashe ran the cries came louder, but fainter now and desperately the horn was blowing. Fierce and shrill rose the yells of the Orcs, and suddenly the horn-calls ceased. Aragorn raced down the last slope, but before he could reach the hill's foot, the sounds died away; and as he turned to the left and ran towards them they retreated, until at last he could hear them no more. Drawing his bright sword and crying Elendil! Elendil! he crashed through the trees.\n\nA mile, maybe, from Parth Galen in a little glade not far from the lake he found Boromir. He was sitting with his back to a great tree, as if he was resting. But Aragorn saw that he was pierced with many black-feathered arrows; his sword was still in his hand, but it was broken near the hilt; his horn cloven in two was at his side. Many Orcs lay slain, piled all about him and at his feet.\n\nAragorn knelt beside him. Boromir opened his eyes and strove to speak. At last slow words came. \"I tried to take the Ring from Frodo,\" he said. \"I am sorry. I have paid.\" His glance strayed to his fallen enemies; twenty at least lay there. \"They have gone: the Halflings: the Orcs have taken them. I think they are not dead. Orcs bound them.\" He paused and his eyes closed wearily. After a moment he spoke again.\n\n\"Farewell, Aragorn! Go to Minas Tirith and save my people! I have failed.\"\n\n\"No!\" said Aragorn, taking his hand and kissing his brow. \"You have conquered. Few have gained such a victory. Beat peace! Minas Tirith shall not fall!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Boromir smiled.\n\n\"Which way did they go? Was Frodo there?\" said Aragorn. But Boromir did not speak again.\n\n\"Alas!\" said Aragorn. \"Thus passes the heir of Denethor, Lord of the Tower of Guard! This is a bitter end. Now the Company is all in ruin. It is I that have failed. Vain was Gandalf's trust in me. What shall I do now? Boromir has laid it on me to go to Minas Tirith, and my heart desires it; but where are the Ring and the Bearer? How shall I find them and save the Quest from disaster? '\n\nHe knelt fora while, bent with weeping, still clasping Boromir's hand. So it was that Legolas and Gimli found him. They came from the western slopes of the hill, silently, creeping through the trees as if they were hunting. Gimli had his axe in hand, and Legolas his long knife: all his arrows were spent. When they came into the glade they halted in amazement; and then they stood a moment with heads bowed in grief, for it seemed to them plain what had happened.\n\n\"Alas!\" said Legolas, coming to Aragorn's side.\"We have hunted and slain many Orcs in the woods, but we should have been of more use here. We came when we heard the horn– but too late, it seems. I fear you have taken deadly hurt. '\n\n\"Boromir is dead,\" said Aragorn. \"I am unscathed, for I was not herewith him. He fell defending the hobbits, while I was away upon the hill.\"\n\n\"The hobbits!\" cried Gimli. \"Where are they then? Where is Frodo?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I do not know,\" answered Aragorn wearily. \"Before he died Boromir told me that the Orcs had bound them; he did not think that they were dead. I sent him to follow Merry and Pippin; but I did not ask him if Frodo or Sam were with him: not until it was too late. All that I have done today has gone amiss. What is to be done now?\"\n\n\"First we must tend the fallen,\" said Legolas. \"We cannot leave him lying like carrion among these foul Orcs.\"\n\n\"But we must be swift,\" said Gimli. \"He would not wish us to linger. We must follow the Orcs, if there is hope that any of our Company are living prisoners.\"\n\n\"But we do not know whether the Ring-bearer is with them or not,\" said Aragorn. \"Are we to abandon him? Must we not seek him first? An evil choice is now before us!\"\n\n\"Then let us do first what we must do,\" said Legolas. \"We have not the time or the tools to bury our comrade fitly, or to raise a mound over him. A cairn we might build.\"\n\n\"The labour would be hard and long: there are no stones that we could use nearer than the water-side,\" said Gimli.\n\n\"Then let us lay him in a boat with his weapons, and the weapons of his vanquished foes,\" said Aragorn. \"We will send him to the Falls of Rauros and give him to Anduin. The River of Gondor will take care at least that no evil creature dishonours his bones.\"\n\nQuickly they searched the bodies of the Orcs, gathering their swords and cloven helms and shields into a heap." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"See!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "cried Aragorn. \"Here we find tokens!\" He picked out from the pile of grim weapons two knives, leaf-bladed, damasked in gold and red; and searching further he found also the sheaths, black, set with small red gems. \"No orc-tools these!\" he said. \"They were borne by the hobbits. Doubtless the Orcs despoiled them, but feared to keep the knives, knowing them for what they are: work of Westernesse, wound about with spells for the bane of Mordor. Well, now, if they still live, our friends are weaponless. I will take these things, hoping against hope, to give them back.\"\n\n\"And I,\" said Legolas, \"will take all the arrows that I can find, for my quiver is empty.\" He searched in the pile and on the ground about and found not a few that were undamaged and longer in the shaft than such arrows as the Orcs were accustomed to use. He looked at them closely.\n\nAnd Aragorn looked on the slain, and he said: \"Here lie many that are not folk of Mordor. Some are from the North, from the Misty Mountains, if I know anything of Orcs and their kinds. And here are others strange tome. Their gear is not after the manner of Orcs at all!\"\n\nThere were four goblin-soldiers of greater stature, swart, slant-eyed, with thick legs and large hands. They were armed with short broad-bladed swords, not with the curved scimitars usual with Orcs; and they had bows of yew, in length and shape like the bows of Men. Upon their shields they bore a strange device: a small white hand in the centre of a black field; on the front of their iron helms was set an S-rune, wrought of some white metal." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I have not seen these tokens before,\" said Aragorn." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What do they mean?\"\n\n\"S is for Sauron,\" said Gimli. \"That is easy to read.\"\n\n\"Nay!\" said Legolas. \"Sauron does not use the elf-runes.\"\n\n\"Neither does he use his right name, nor permit it to be spelt or spoken,\" said Aragorn. \"And he does not use white. The Orcs in the service of Barad-dûr use the sign of the Red Eye.\" He stood fora moment in thought. \"S is for Saruman, I guess,\" he said at length. \"There is evil afoot in Isengard, and the West is no longer safe. It is as Gandalf feared: by some means the traitor Saruman has had news of our journey. It is likely too that he knows of Gandalf's fall. Pursuers from Moria may have escaped the vigilance of Lórien, or they may have avoided that land and come to Isengard by other paths. Orcs travel fast. But Saruman has many ways of learning news. Do you remember the birds? '\n\n\"Well, we have no time to ponder riddles,\" said Gimli. \"Let us bear Boromir away!\"\n\n\"But after that we must guess the riddles, if we are to choose our course rightly,\" answered Aragorn.\n\n\"Maybe there is no right choice,\" said Gimli.\n\nTaking his axe the Dwarf now cut several branches. These they lashed together with bowstrings, and spread their cloaks upon the frame. Upon this rough bier they carried the body of their companion to the shore, together with such trophies of his last battle as they chose to send forthwith him. It was only a short way, yet they found it no easy task, for Boromir was a man both tall and strong." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At the water-side Aragorn remained, watching the bier, while Legolas and Gimli hastened back on foot to Parth Galen. It was a mile or more, and it was sometime before they came back, paddling two boats swiftly along the shore.\n\n\"There is a strange tale to tell!\" said Legolas. \"There are only two boats upon the bank. We could find no trace of the other.\"\n\n\"Have Orcs been there?\" asked Aragorn.\n\n\"We saw no signs of them,\" answered Gimli. \"And Orcs would have taken or destroyed all the boats, and the baggage as well.\"\n\n\"I will look at the ground when we come there,\" said Aragorn.\n\nNow they laid Boromir in the middle of the boat that was to bear him away. The grey hood and elven-cloak they folded and placed beneath his head. They combed his long dark hair and arrayed it upon his shoulders. The golden belt of Lórien gleamed about his waist. His helm they set beside him, and across his lap they laid the cloven horn and the hilt and shards of his sword; beneath his feet they put the swords of his enemies. Then fastening the prow to the stern of the other boat, they drew him out into the water. They rowed sadly along the shore, and turning into the swift-running channel they passed the greensward of Parth Galen. The steep sides of Tol Brandir were glowing: it was now mid-afternoon. As they went south the fume of Rauros rose and shimmered before them, a haze of gold. The rush and thunder of the falls shook the windless air.\n\nSorrowfully they cast loose the funeral boat: there Boromir lay, restful, peaceful, gliding upon the bosom of the flowing water. The stream took him while they held their own boat back with their paddles. He floated by them, and slowly his boat departed, waning to a dark spot against the golden light; and then suddenly it vanished. Rauros roared on unchanging. The River had taken Boromir son of Denethor, and he was not seen again in Minas Tirith, standing as he used to stand upon the White Tower in the morning. But in Gondor in after-days it long was said that the elven-boat rode the falls and the foaming pool, and bore him down through Osgiliath, and past the many mouths of Anduin, out into the Great Sea at night under the stars." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Fora while the three companions remained silent, gazing after him. Then Aragorn spoke. \"They will look for him from the White Tower,\" he said, \"but he will not return from mountain or from sea.\" Then slowly he began to sing:\n\nThen Legolas sang:\n\nThen Aragorn sang again:\n\nSo they ended. Then they turned their boat and drove it with all the speed they could against the stream back to Parth Galen.\n\n\"You left the East Wind tome,\" said Gimli, \"but I will say naught of it.\"\n\n\"That is as it should be,\" said Aragorn. \"In Minas Tirith they endure the East Wind, but they do not ask it for tidings. But now Boromir has taken his road, and we must make haste to choose our own.\"\n\nHe surveyed the green lawn, quickly but thoroughly, stooping often to the earth. \"No Orcs have been on this ground,\" he said. \"Otherwise nothing can be made out for certain. All our footprints are here, crossing and re-crossing. I cannot tell whether any of the hobbits have comeback since the search for Frodo began.\" He returned to the bank, close to where the rill from the spring trickled out into the River. \"There are some clear prints here,\" he said. \"A hobbit waded out into the water and back; but I cannot say how long ago.\"\n\n\"How then do you read this riddle?\" asked Gimli.\n\nAragorn did not answer at once, but went back to the camping-place and looked at the baggage. \"Two packs are missing,\" he said, \"and one is certainly Sam's: it was rather large and heavy. This then is the answer: Frodo has gone by boat, and his servant has gone with him. Frodo must have returned while we were all away. I met Sam going up the hill and told him to follow me; but plainly he did not do so. He guessed his master's mind and came back here before Frodo had gone. He did not find it easy to leave Sam behind!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But why should he leave us behind, and without a word?\" said Gimli. \"That was a strange deed!\"\n\n\"And a brave deed,\" said Aragorn. \"Sam was right, I think. Frodo did not wish to lead any friend to death with him in Mordor. But he knew that he must go himself. Something happened after he left us that overcame his fear and doubt.\"\n\n\"Maybe hunting Orcs came on him and he fled,\" said Legolas.\n\n\"He fled, certainly,\" said Aragorn, \"but not, I think, from Orcs.\" What he thought was the cause of Frodo's sudden resolve and flight Aragorn did not say. The last words of Boromir he long kept secret.\n\n\"Well, so much at least is now clear,\" said Legolas: \"Frodo is no longer on this side of the River: only he can have taken the boat. And Sam is with him; only he would have taken his pack.\"\n\n\"Our choice then,\" said Gimli, \"is either to take the remaining boat and follow Frodo, or else to follow the Orcs on foot. There is little hope either way. We have already lost precious hours.\"\n\n\"Let me think!\" said Aragorn. \"And now may I make aright choice, and change the evil fate of this unhappy day!\" He stood silent fora moment. \"I will follow the Orcs,\" he said at last. \"I would have guided Frodo to Mordor and gone with him to the end; but if I seek him now in the wilderness, I must abandon the captives to torment and death. My heart speaks clearly at last: the fate of the Bearer is in my hands no longer. The Company has played its part. Yet we that remain cannot forsake our companions while we have strength left. Come! We will go now. Leave all that can be spared behind! We will press on by day and dark!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They drew up the last boat and carried it to the trees. They laid beneath it such of their goods as they did not need and could not carry away. Then they left Parth Galen. The afternoon was fading as they came back to the glade where Boromir had fallen. There they picked up the trail of the Orcs. It needed little skill to find.\n\n\"No other folk make such a trampling,\" said Legolas. \"It seems their delight to slash and beat down growing things that are not even in their way.\"\n\n\"But they go with a great speed for all that,\" said Aragorn, \"and they do not tire. And later we may have to search for our path in hard bare lands.\"\n\n\"Well, after them!\" said Gimli. \"Dwarves too can go swiftly, and they do not tire sooner than Orcs. But it will be along chase: they have along start.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Aragorn, \"we shall all need the endurance of Dwarves. But come! With hope or without hope we will follow the trail of our enemies. And woe to them, if we prove the swifter! We will make such a chase as shall be accounted a marvel among the Three Kindreds: Elves, Dwarves, and Men. Forth the Three Hunters!\"\n\nLike a deer he sprang away. Through the trees he sped. On and on he led them, tireless and swift, now that his mind was at last made up. The woods about the lake they left behind. Long slopes they climbed, dark, hard-edged against the sky already red with sunset. Dusk came. They passed away, grey shadows in a stony land." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "THE RIDERS OF ROHAN\n\nDusk deepened. Mist lay behind them among the trees below, and brooded on the pale margins of the Anduin, but the sky was clear. Stars came out. The waxing moon was riding in the West, and the shadows of the rocks were black. They had come to the feet of stony hills, and their pace was slower, for the trail was no longer easy to follow. Here the highlands of the Emyn Muil ran from North to South in two long tumbled ridges. The western side of each ridge was steep and difficult, but the eastward slopes were gentler, furrowed with many gullies and narrow ravines. All night the three companions scrambled in this bony land, climbing to the crest of the first and tallest ridge, and down again into the darkness of a deep winding valley on the other side.\n\nTherein the still cool hour before dawn they rested fora brief space. The moon had long gone down before them, the stars glittered above them; the first light of day had not yet come over the dark hills behind. For the moment Aragorn was at a loss: the orc-trail had descended into the valley, but there it had vanished.\n\n\"Which way would they turn, do you think?\" said Legolas. \"Northward to take a straighter road to Isengard, or Fangorn, if that is their aim as you guess? Or southward to strike the Entwash?\"\n\n\"They will not make for the river, whatever mark they aim at,\" said Aragorn. \"And unless there is much amiss in Rohan and the power of Saruman is greatly increased, they will take the shortest way that they can find over the fields of the Rohirrim. Let us search northwards!\"\n\nThe dale ran like a stony trough between the ridged hills, and a trickling stream flowed among the boulders at the bottom. A cliff frowned upon their right; to their left rose grey slopes, dim and shadowy in the late night. They went on fora mile or more northwards. Aragorn was searching, bent towards the ground, among the folds and gullies leading up into the western ridge. Legolas was someway ahead. Suddenly the Elf gave a cry and the others came running towards him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We have already overtaken some of those that we are hunting,\" he said. \"Look!\" He pointed, and they saw that what they had at first taken to be boulders lying at the foot of the slope were huddled bodies. Five dead Orcs lay there. They had been hewn with many cruel strokes, and two had been beheaded. The ground was wet with their dark blood.\n\n\"Here is another riddle!\" said Gimli. \"But it needs the light of day, and for that we cannot wait.\"\n\n\"Yet however you read it, it seems not unhopeful,\" said Legolas. \"Enemies of the Orcs are likely to be our friends. Do any folk dwell in these hills?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Aragorn. \"The Rohirrim seldom come here, and it is far from Minas Tirith. It might be that some company of Men were hunting here for reasons that we do not know. Yet I think not.\"\n\n\"What do you think?\" said Gimli.\n\n\"I think that the enemy brought his own enemy with him,\" answered Aragorn. \"These are Northern Orcs from faraway. Among the slain are none of the great Orcs with the strange badges. There was a quarrel, I guess: it is no uncommon thing with these foul folk. Maybe there was some dispute about the road.\"\n\n\"Or about the captives,\" said Gimli. \"Let us hope that they, too, did not meet their end here.\"\n\nAragorn searched the ground in a wide circle, but no other traces of the fight could be found. They went on. Already the eastward sky was turning pale; the stars were fading, and a grey light was slowly growing. A little further north they came to a fold in which a tiny stream, falling and winding, had cut a stony path down into the valley. In it some bushes grew, and there were patches of grass upon its sides." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"At last!\" said Aragorn. \"Here are the tracks that we seek! Up this water-channel: this is the way that the Orcs went after their debate.\"\n\nSwiftly now the pursuers turned and followed the new path. As if fresh from a night's rest they sprang from stone to stone. At last they reached the crest of the grey hill, and a sudden breeze blew in their hair and stirred their cloaks: the chill wind of dawn.\n\nTurning back they saw across the River the far hills kindled. Day leaped into the sky. The red rim of the sun rose over the shoulders of the dark land. Before them in the West the world lay still, formless and grey; but even as they looked, the shadows of night melted, the colours of the waking earth returned: green flowed over the wide meads of Rohan; the white mists shimmered in the water-vales; and far off to the left, thirty leagues or more, blue and purple stood the White Mountains, rising into peaks of jet, tipped with glimmering snows, flushed with the rose of morning.\n\n\"Gondor! Gondor!\" cried Aragorn. 'Would that I looked on you again in happier hour! Not yet does my road lie southward to your bright streams.\n\nNow let us go! ' he said, drawing his eyes away from the South, and looking out west and north to the way that he must tread.\n\nThe ridge upon which the companions stood went down steeply before their feet. Below it twenty fathoms or more, there was a wide and rugged shelf which ended suddenly in the brink of a sheer cliff: the East Wall of Rohan. So ended the Emyn Muil, and the green plains of the Rohirrim stretched away before them to the edge of sight." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Look!\" cried Legolas, pointing up into the pale sky above them. \"There is the eagle again! He is very high. He seems to be flying now away, from this land back to the North. He is going with great speed. Look!\"\n\n\"No, not even my eyes can see him, my good Legolas,\" said Aragorn. \"He must be far aloft indeed. I wonder what is his errand, if he is the same bird that I have seen before. But look! I can see something nearer at hand and more urgent; there is something moving over the plain!\"\n\n\"Many things,\" said Legolas. \"It is a great company on foot; but I cannot say more, nor see what kind of folk they maybe. They are many leagues away: twelve, I guess; but the flatness of the plain is hard to measure.\"\n\n\"I think, nonetheless, that we no longer need any trail to tell us which way to go,\" said Gimli. \"Let us find a path down to the fields as quick as maybe.\"\n\n\"I doubt if you will find a path quicker than the one that the Orcs chose,\" said Aragorn.\n\nThey followed their enemies now by the clear light of day. It seemed that the Orcs had pressed on with all possible speed. Every now and again the pursuers found things that had been dropped or castaway: food-bags, the rinds and crusts of hard grey bread, a torn black cloak, a heavy iron-nailed shoe broken on the stones. The trail led them north along the top of the escarpment, and at length they came to a deep cleft carved in the rock by a stream that splashed noisily down. In the narrow ravine a rough path descended like a steep stair into the plain." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At the bottom they came with a strange suddenness on the grass of Rohan. It swelled like a green sea up to the very foot of the Emyn Muil. The falling stream vanished into a deep growth of cresses and water-plants, and they could hear it tinkling away in green tunnels, down long gentle slopes towards the fens of Entwash Vale faraway. They seemed to have left winter clinging to the hills behind. Here the air was softer and warmer, and faintly scented, as if spring was already stirring and the sap was flowing again in herb and leaf. Legolas took a deep breath, like one that drinks a great draught after long thirst in barren places.\n\n\"Ah! the green smell!\" he said. \"It is better than much sleep. Let us run!\"\n\n\"Light feet may run swiftly here,\" said Aragorn. \"More swiftly, maybe, than iron-shod Orcs. Now we have a chance to lessen their lead!\"\n\nThey went in single file, running like hounds on a strong scent, and an eager light was in their eyes. Nearly due west the broad swath of the marching Orcs tramped its ugly slot; the sweet grass of Rohan had been bruised and blackened as they passed. Presently Aragorn gave a cry and turned aside.\n\n\"Stay!\" he shouted. \"Do not follow me yet!\" He ran quickly to the right, away from the main trail; for he had seen footprints that went that way, branching off from the others, the marks of small unshod feet. These, however, did not go far before they were crossed by orc-prints, also coming out from the main trail behind and in front, and then they curved sharply back again and were lost in the trampling. At the furthest point Aragorn stooped and picked up something from the grass; then he ran back." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yes,\" he said, \"they are quite plain: a hobbit's footprints. Pippin's, I think. He is smaller than the others. And look at this!\" He held up a thing that glittered in the sunlight. It looked like the new-opened leaf of a beech-tree, fair and strange in that treeless plain.\n\n\"The brooch of an elven-cloak!\" cried Legolas and Gimli together.\n\n\"Not idly do the leaves of Lórien fall,\" said Aragorn. \"This did not drop by chance: it was castaway as a token to any that might follow. I think Pippin ran away from the trail for that purpose.\"\n\n\"Then heat least was alive,\" said Gimli. \"And he had the use of his wits, and of his legs too. That is heartening. We do not pursue in vain.\"\n\n\"Let us hope that he did not pay too dearly for his boldness,\" said Legolas. \"Come! Let us goon! The thought of those merry young folk driven like cattle burns my heart.\"\n\nThe sun climbed to the noon and then rode slowly down the sky. Light clouds came up out of the sea in the distant South and were blown away upon the breeze. The sun sank. Shadows rose behind and reached out long arms from the East. Still the hunters held on. One day now had passed since Boromir fell, and the Orcs were yet far ahead. No longer could any sight of them be seen in the level plains.\n\nAs nightshade was closing about them Aragorn halted. Only twice in the day's march had they rested fora brief while, and twelve leagues now lay between them and the eastern wall where they had stood at dawn.\n\n\"We have come at last to a hard choice,\" he said. \"Shall we rest by night, or shall we goon while our will and strength hold?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Unless our enemies rest also, they will leave us far behind, if we stay to sleep,\" said Legolas.\n\n\"Surely even Orcs must pause on the march?\" said Gimli.\n\n\"Seldom will Orcs journey in the open under the sun, yet these have done so,\" said Legolas. \"Certainly they will not rest by night.\"\n\n\"But if we walk by night, we cannot follow their trail,\" said Gimli.\n\n\"The trail is straight, and turns neither right nor left, as far as my eyes can see,\" said Legolas.\n\n\"Maybe, I could lead you at guess in the darkness and hold to the line,\" said Aragorn; \"but if we strayed, or they turned aside, then when light came there might belong delay before the trail was found again.\"\n\n\"And there is this also,\" said Gimli: \"only by day can we see if any tracks lead away. If a prisoner should escape, or if one should be carried off, eastward, say, to the Great River, towards Mordor, we might pass the signs and never know it.\"\n\n\"That is true,\" said Aragorn. \"But if I read the signs back yonder rightly, the Orcs of the White Hand prevailed, and the whole company is now bound for Isengard. Their present course bears me out.\"\n\n\"Yet it would be rash to be sure of their counsels,\" said Gimli. \"And what of escape? In the dark we should have passed the signs that led you to the brooch.\"\n\n\"The Orcs will be doubly on their guard since then, and the prisoners even wearier,\" said Legolas. \"There will be no escape again, if we do not contrive it. How that is to be done cannot be guessed, but first we must overtake them.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And yet even I, Dwarf of many journeys, and not the least hardy of my folk, cannot run all the way to Isengard without any pause,\" said Gimli. \"My heart burns me too, and I would have started sooner; but now I must rest a little to run the better. And if we rest, then the blind night is the time to do so.\"\n\n\"I said that it was a hard choice,\" said Aragorn. \"How shall we end this debate?\"\n\n\"You are our guide,\" said Gimli, \"and you are skilled in the chase. You shall choose.\"\n\n\"My heart bids me goon,\" said Legolas. \"But we must hold together. I will follow your counsel.\"\n\n\"You give the choice to an ill chooser,\" said Aragorn. \"Since we passed through the Argonath my choices have gone amiss.\" He fell silent, gazing north and west into the gathering night fora long while.\n\n\"We will not walk in the dark,\" he said at length. \"The peril of missing the trail or signs of other coming and going seems tome the greater. If the Moon gave enough light, we would use it, but alas! he sets early and is yet young and pale.\"\n\n\"And tonight he is shrouded anyway,\" Gimli murmured. \"Would that the Lady had given us alight, such a gift as she gave to Frodo!\"\n\n\"It will be more needed where it is bestowed,\" said Aragorn. \"With him lies the true Quest. Ours is but a small matter in the great deeds of this time. A vain pursuit from its beginning, maybe, which no choice of mine can mar or mend. Well, I have chosen. So let us use the time as best we may!\"\n\nHe cast himself on the ground and fell at once into sleep, for he had not slept since their night under the shadow of Tol Brandir. Before dawn was in the sky he woke and rose. Gimli was still deep in slumber, but Legolas was standing, gazing northwards into the darkness, thoughtful and silent as a young tree in a windless night." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They are far faraway,\" he said sadly, turning to Aragorn. \"I know in my heart that they have not rested this night. Only an eagle could overtake them now.\"\n\n\"Nonetheless we will still follow as we may,\" said Aragorn. Stooping he roused the Dwarf. \"Come! We must go,\" he said. \"The scent is growing cold.\"\n\n\"But it is still dark,\" said Gimli. \"Even Legolas on a hill-top could not see them till the Sun is up.\"\n\n\"I fear they have passed beyond my sight from hill or plain, under moon or sun,\" said Legolas.\n\n\"Where sight fails the earth may bring us rumour,\" said Aragorn. \"The land must groan under their hated feet.\" He stretched himself upon the ground with his ear pressed against the turf. He lay there motionless, for so long a time that Gimli wondered if he had swooned or fallen asleep again. Dawn came glimmering, and slowly a grey light grew about them. At last he rose, and now his friends could see his face: it was pale and drawn, and his look was troubled.\n\n\"The rumour of the earth is dim and confused,\" he said. \"Nothing walks upon it for many miles about us. Faint and far are the feet of our enemies. But loud are the hoofs of the horses. It comes to my mind that I heard them, even as I lay on the ground in sleep, and they troubled my dreams: horses galloping, passing in the West. But now they are drawing ever further from us, riding northward. I wonder what is happening in this land!\"\n\n\"Let us go!\" said Legolas.\n\nSo the third day of their pursuit began. During all its long hours of cloud and fitful sun they hardly paused, now striding, now running, as if no weariness could quench the fire that burned them. They seldom spoke. Over the wide solitude they passed and their elven-cloaks faded against the background of the grey-green fields; even in the cool sunlight of mid-day few but Elvish eyes would have marked them, until they were close at hand. Often in their hearts they thanked the Lady of Lórien for the gift of lembas, for they could eat of it and find new strength even as they ran." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "All day the track of their enemies led straight on, going north-west without a break or turn. As once again the day wore to its end they came to long treeless slopes, where the land rose, swelling up towards a line of low humpbacked downs ahead. The orc-trail grew fainter as it bent north towards them, for the ground became harder and the grass shorter. Faraway to the left the river Entwash wound, a silver thread in a green floor. No moving thing could be seen. Often Aragorn wondered that they saw no sign of beast or man. The dwellings of the Rohirrim were for the most part many leagues away to the South, under the wooded eaves of the White Mountains, now hidden in mist and cloud; yet the Horse-lords had formerly kept many herds and studs in the Eastemnet, this easterly region of their realm, and there the herdsmen had wandered much, living in camp and tent, even in winter-time. But now all the land was empty, and there was a silence that did not seem to be the quiet of peace.\n\nAt dusk they halted again. Now twice twelve leagues they had passed over the plains of Rohan and the wall of the Emyn Muil was lost in the shadows of the East. The young moon was glimmering in a misty sky, but it gave small light, and the stars were veiled.\n\n\"Now do I most grudge a time of rest or any halt in our chase,\" said Legolas. \"The Orcs have run before us, as if the very whips of Sauron were behind them. I fear they have already reached the forest and the dark hills, and even now are passing into the shadows of the trees.\"\n\nGimli ground his teeth. \"This is a bitter end to our hope and to all our toil!\" he said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"To hope, maybe, but not to toil,\" said Aragorn. \"We shall not turn back here. Yet I am weary.\" He gazed back along the way that they had come towards the night gathering in the East. \"There is something strange at work in this land. I distrust the silence. I distrust even the pale Moon. The stars are faint; and I am weary as I have seldom been before, weary as no Ranger should be with a clear trail to follow. There is some will that lends speed to our foes and sets an unseen barrier before us: a weariness that is in the heart more than in the limb.\"\n\n\"Truly!\" said Legolas. \"That I have known since first we came down from the Emyn Muil. For the will is not behind us but before us.\" He pointed away over the land of Rohan into the darkling West under the sickle moon.\n\n\"Saruman!\" muttered Aragorn. \"But he shall not turn us back! Halt we must once more; for, see! even the Moon is falling into gathering cloud. But north lies our road between down and fen when day returns.\"\n\nAs before Legolas was first afoot, if indeed he had ever slept. \"Awake! Awake!\" he cried. \"It is a red dawn. Strange things await us by the eaves of the forest. Good or evil, I do not know; but we are called. Awake!\"\n\nThe others sprang up, and almost at once they set off again. Slowly the downs drew near. It was still an hour before noon when they reached them: green slopes rising to bare ridges that ran in a line straight towards the North. At their feet the ground was dry and the turf short, but along strip of sunken land, some ten miles wide, lay between them and the river wandering deep in dim thickets of reed and rush. Just to the West of the southernmost slope there was a great ring, where the turf had been torn and beaten by many trampling feet. From it the orc-trail ran out again, turning north along the dry skirts of the hills. Aragorn halted and examined the tracks closely." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They rested here awhile,\" he said, \"but even the outward trail is already old. I fear that your heart spoke truly, Legolas: it is thrice twelve hours, I guess, since the Orcs stood where we now stand. If they held to their pace, then at sundown yesterday they would reach the borders of Fangorn.\"\n\n\"I can see nothing away north or west but grass dwindling into mist,\" said Gimli. \"Could we seethe forest, if we climbed the hills?\"\n\n\"It is still faraway,\" said Aragorn. \"If I remember rightly, these downs run eight leagues or more to the north, and then north-west to the issuing of the Entwash there lies still a wide land, another fifteen leagues it maybe.\"\n\n\"Well, let us goon,\" said Gimli. \"My legs must forget the miles. They would be more willing, if my heart were less heavy.\"\n\nThe sun was sinking when at last they drew near to the end of the line of downs. For many hours they had marched without rest. They were going slowly now, and Gimli's back was bent. Stone-hard are the Dwarves in labour or journey, but this endless chase began to tell on him, as all hope failed in his heart. Aragorn walked behind him, grim and silent, stooping now and again to scan some print or mark upon the ground. Only Legolas still stepped as lightly as ever, his feet hardly seeming to press the grass, leaving no footprints as he passed; but in the waybread of the Elves he found all the sustenance that he needed, and he could sleep, if sleep it could be called by Men, resting his mind in the strange paths of Elvish dreams, even as he walked open-eyed in the light of this world." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Let us go upon to this green hill!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "he said. Wearily they followed him, climbing the long slope, until they came out upon the top. It was around hill smooth and bare, standing by itself, the most northerly of the downs. The sun sank and the shadows of evening fell like a curtain. They were alone in a grey formless world without mark or measure. Only faraway north-west there was a deeper darkness against the dying light: the Mountains of Mist and the forest at their feet.\n\n\"Nothing can we see to guide us here,\" said Gimli. \"Well, now we must halt again and wear the night away. It is growing cold!\"\n\n\"The wind is north from the snows,\" said Aragorn.\n\n\"And ere morning it will be in the East,\" said Legolas. \"But rest, if you must. Yet do not cast all hope away. Tomorrow is unknown. Rede oft is found at the rising of the Sun.\"\n\n\"Three suns already have risen on our chase and brought no counsel,\" said Gimli.\n\nThe night grew ever colder. Aragorn and Gimli slept fitfully, and whenever they awoke they saw Legolas standing beside them, or walking to and fro, singing softly to himself in his own tongue, and as he sang the white stars opened in the hard black vault above. So the night passed. Together they watched the dawn grow slowly in the sky, now bare and cloudless, until at last the sunrise came. It was pale and clear. The wind was in the East and all the mists had rolled away; wide lands lay bleak about them in the bitter light.\n\nAhead and eastward they saw the windy uplands of the Wold of Rohan that they had already glimpsed many days ago from the Great River. North-westward stalked the dark forest of Fangorn; still ten leagues away stood its shadowy eaves, and its further slopes faded into the distant blue. Beyond there glimmered faraway, as if floating on a grey cloud, the whitehead of tall Methedras, the last peak of the Misty Mountains. Out of the forest the Entwash flowed to meet them, its stream now swift and narrow, and its banks deep-cloven. The orc-trail turned from the downs towards it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Following with his keen eyes the trail to the river, and then the river back towards the forest, Aragorn saw a shadow on the distant green, a dark swift-moving blur. He cast himself upon the ground and listened again intently. But Legolas stood beside him, shading his bright elven-eyes with his long slender hand, and he saw not a shadow, nor a blur, but the small figures of horsemen, many horsemen, and the glint of morning on the tips of their spears was like the twinkle of minute stars beyond the edge of mortal sight. Far behind them a dark smoke rose in thin curling threads.\n\nThere was a silence in the empty fields, and Gimli could hear the air moving in the grass.\n\n\"Riders!\" cried Aragorn, springing to his feet. \"Many riders on swift steeds are coming towards us!\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Legolas, \"there are one hundred and five. Yellow is their hair, and bright are their spears. Their leader is very tall.\"\n\nAragorn smiled. \"Keen are the eyes of the Elves,\" he said.\n\n\"Nay! The riders are little more than five leagues distant,\" said Legolas.\n\n\"Five leagues or one,\" said Gimli, \"we cannot escape them in this bare land. Shall we wait for them here or goon our way?\"\n\n\"We will wait,\" said Aragorn. \"I am weary, and our hunt has failed. Or at least others were before us; for these horse-men are riding back down the orc-trail. We may get news from them.\"\n\n\"Or spears,\" said Gimli.\n\n\"There are three empty saddles, but I see no hobbits,\" said Legolas." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I did not say that we should hear good news,\" said Aragorn. \"But evil or good we will await it here.\"\n\nThe three companions now left the hill-top, where they might bean easy mark against the pale sky, and they walked slowly down the northward slope. A little above the hill's foot they halted, and wrapping their cloaks about them, they sat huddled together upon the faded grass. The time passed slowly and heavily. The wind was thin and searching. Gimli was uneasy.\n\n\"What do you know of these horsemen, Aragorn?\" he said. \"Do we sit here waiting for sudden death?\"\n\n\"I have been among them,\" answered Aragorn. \"They are proud and wilful, but they are true-hearted, generous in thought and deed; bold but not cruel; wise but unlearned, writing no books but singing many songs, after the manner of the children of Men before the Dark Years. But I do not know what has happened hereof late, nor in what mind the Rohirrim may now be between the traitor Saruman and the threat of Sauron. They have long been the friends of the people of Gondor, though they are not akin to them. It was in forgotten years long ago that Eorl the Young brought them out of the North, and their kinship is rather with the Bardings of Dale, and with the Beornings of the Wood, among whom may still be seen many men tall and fair, as are the Riders of Rohan. At least they will not love the Orcs.\"\n\n\"But Gandalf spoke of a rumour that they pay tribute to Mordor,\" said Gimli.\n\n\"I believe it no more than did Boromir,\" answered Aragorn. \"You will soon learn the truth,\" said Legolas. \"Already they approach.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At length even Gimli could hear the distant beat of galloping hoofs. The horsemen, following the trail, had turned from the river, and were drawing near the downs. They were riding like the wind.\n\nNow the cries of clear strong voices came ringing over the fields. Suddenly they swept up with a noise like thunder, and the foremost horseman swerved, passing by the foot of the hill, and leading the host back southward along the western skirts of the downs. After him they rode: along line of mail-clad men, swift, shining, fell and fair to look upon.\n\nTheir horses were of great stature, strong and clean-limbed; their grey coats glistened, their long tails flowed in the wind, their manes were braided on their proud necks. The Men that rode them matched them well: tall and long-limbed; their hair, flaxen-pale, flowed under their light helms, and streamed in long braids behind them; their faces were stern and keen. In their hands were tall spears of ash, painted shields were slung at their backs, long swords were at their belts, their burnished shirts of mail hung down upon their knees.\n\nIn pairs they galloped by, and though every now and then one rose in his stirrups and gazed ahead and to either side, they appeared not to perceive the three strangers sitting silently and watching them. The host had almost passed when suddenly Aragorn stood up, and called in aloud voice:\n\n\"What news from the North, Riders of Rohan?\"\n\nWith astonishing speed and skill they checked their steeds, wheeled, and came charging round. Soon the three companions found themselves in a ring of horsemen moving in a running circle, up the hill-slope behind them and down, round and round them, and drawing ever inwards. Aragorn stood silent, and the other two sat without moving, wondering what way things would turn." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Without a word or cry, suddenly, the Riders halted. A thicket of spears were pointed towards the strangers; and some of the horsemen had bows in hand, and their arrows were already fitted to the string. Then one rode forward, a tall man, taller than all the rest; from his helm as a crest a white horsetail flowed. He advanced until the point of his spear was within afoot of Aragorn's breast. Aragorn did not stir.\n\n\"Who are you, and what are you doing in this land?\" said the Rider, using the Common Speech of the West, in manner and tone like to the speech of Boromir, Man of Gondor.\n\n\"I am called Strider,\" answered Aragorn. \"I came out of the North. I am hunting Orcs.\"\n\nThe Rider leaped from his horse. Giving his spear to another who rode up and dismounted at his side, he drew his sword and stood face to face with Aragorn, surveying him keenly, and not without wonder. At length he spoke again.\n\n\"At first I thought that you yourselves were Orcs,\" he said; \"but now I see that it is not so. Indeed you know little of Orcs, if you go hunting them in this fashion. They were swift and well-armed, and they were many. You would have changed from hunters to prey, if ever you had overtaken them. But there is something strange about you, Strider.\" He bent his clear bright eyes again upon the Ranger. \"That is no name fora Man that you give. And strange too is your raiment. Have you sprung out of the grass? How did you escape our sight? Are you Elvish folk?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Aragorn. \"One only of us is an Elf, Legolas from the Woodland Realm in distant Mirkwood. But we have passed through Lothlórien, and the gifts and favour of the Lady go with us.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "The Rider looked at them with renewed wonder, but his eyes hardened." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Then there is a Lady in the Golden Wood, as old tales tell!\" he said. \"Few escape her nets, they say. These are strange days! But if you have her favour, then you also are net-weavers and sorcerers, maybe.\" He turned a cold glance suddenly upon Legolas and Gimli. \"Why do you not speak, silent ones?\" he demanded.\n\nGimli rose and planted his feet firmly apart: his hand gripped the handle of his axe, and his dark eyes flashed. \"Give me your name, horse-master, and I will give you mine, and more besides,\" he said.\n\n\"As for that,\" said the Rider, staring down at the Dwarf, \"the stranger should declare himself first. Yet I am named Éomer son of Éomund, and am called the Third Marshal of Riddermark.\"\n\n\"Then Éomer son of Éomund, Third Marshal of Riddermark, let Gimli the Dwarf Glóin's son warn you against foolish words. You speak evil of that which is fair beyond the reach of your thought, and only little wit can excuse you. '\n\nÉomer's eyes blazed, and the Men of Rohan murmured angrily, and closed in, advancing their spears.\"I would cutoff your head, beard and all, Master Dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground, ' said Éomer.\n\n\"He stands not alone,\" said Legolas, bending his bow and fitting an arrow with hands that moved quicker than sight. \"You would die before your stroke fell.\"\n\nÉomer raised his sword, and things might have gone ill, but Aragorn sprang between them, and raised his hand. \"Your pardon, Éomer!\" he cried. \"When you know more you will understand why you have angered my companions. We intend no evil to Rohan, nor to any of its folk, neither to man nor to horse. Will you not hear our tale before you strike?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I will,\" said Éomer lowering his blade. \"But wanderers in the Riddermark would be wise to be less haughty in these days of doubt. First tell me your right name.\"\n\n\"First tell me whom you serve,\" said Aragorn. \"Are you friend or foe of Sauron, the Dark Lord of Mordor?\"\n\n\"I serve only the Lord of the Mark, Théoden King son of Thengel,\" answered Éomer. \"We do not serve the Power of the Black Land faraway, but neither are we yet at open war with him; and if you are fleeing from him, then you had best leave this land. There is trouble now on all our borders, and we are threatened; but we desire only to be free, and to live as we have lived, keeping our own, and serving no foreign lord, good or evil. We welcomed guests kindly in the better days, but in these times the unbidden stranger finds us swift and hard. Come! Who are you? Whom do you serve? At whose command do you hunt Orcs in our land?\"\n\n\"I serve no man,\" said Aragorn; \"but the servants of Sauron I pursue into whatever land they may go. There are few among mortal Men who know more of Orcs; and I do not hunt them in this fashion out of choice. The Orcs whom we pursued took captive two of my friends. In such need a man that has no horse will goon foot, and he will not ask for leave to follow the trail. Nor will he count the heads of the enemy save with a sword. I am not weaponless.\"\n\nAragorn threw back his cloak. The elven-sheath glittered as he grasped it, and the bright blade of Andúril shone like a sudden flame as he swept it out. \"Elendil!\" he cried. \"I am Aragorn son of Arathorn, and am called Elessar, the Elfstone, Dúnadan, the heir of Isildur Elendil's son of Gondor. Here is the Sword that was Broken and is forged again! Will you aid me or thwart me? Choose swiftly! '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Gimli and Legolas looked at their companion in amazement, for they had not seen him in this mood before." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He seemed to have grown in stature while Éomer had shrunk; and in his living face they caught a brief vision of the power and majesty of the kings of stone. Fora moment it seemed to the eyes of Legolas that a white flame flickered on the brows of Aragorn like a shining crown.\n\nÉomer stepped back and a look of awe was in his face. He cast down his proud eyes. \"These are indeed strange days,\" he muttered. 'Dreams and legends spring to life out of the grass.\n\n\"Tell me, lord,\" he said, \"what brings you here? And what was the meaning of the dark words? Long has Boromir son of Denethor been gone seeking an answer, and the horse that we lent him came back riderless. What doom do you bring out of the North?\"\n\n\"The doom of choice,\" said Aragorn. \"You may say this to Théoden son of Thengel: open war lies before him, with Sauron or against him. None may live now as they have lived, and few shall keep what they call their own. But of these great matters we will speak later. If chance allows, I will come myself to the king. Now I am in great need, and I ask for help, or at least for tidings. You heard that we are pursuing an orc-host that carried off our friends. What can you tell us?\"\n\n\"That you need not pursue them further,\" said Éomer. \"The Orcs are destroyed.\"\n\n\"And our friends?\"\n\n\"We found none but Orcs.\"\n\n\"But that is strange indeed,\" said Aragorn. 'Did you search the slain? Were there nobodies other than those of orc-kind?\n\nThey would be small, only children to your eyes, unshod but clad in grey. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There were no dwarves nor children,\" said Éomer. \"We counted all the slain and despoiled them, and then we piled the carcases and burned them, as is our custom. The ashes are smoking still.\"\n\n\"We do not speak of dwarves or children,\" said Gimli. \"Our friends were hobbits.\"\n\n\"Hobbits?\" said Éomer. \"And what may they be? It is a strange name.\"\n\n\"A strange name fora strange folk,\" said Gimli. \"But these were very dear to us. It seems that you have heard in Rohan of the words that troubled Minas Tirith. They spoke of the Halfling. These hobbits are Halflings.\"\n\n\"Halflings!\" laughed the Rider that stood beside Éomer. \"Halflings! But they are only a little people in old songs and children's tales out of the North. Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight? '\n\n\"A man may do both,\" said Aragorn. \"For not we but those who come after will make the legends of our time. The green earth, say you? That is a mighty matter of legend, though you tread it under the light of day!\"\n\n\"Time is pressing,\" said the Rider, not heeding Aragorn. \"We must hasten south, lord. Let us leave these wild folk to their fancies. Or let us bind them and take them to the king.\"\n\n\"Peace, Éothain!\" said Éomer in his own tongue. \"Leave me awhile. Tell the éored to assemble on the path, and make ready to ride to the Entwade.\"\n\nMuttering Éothain retired, and spoke to the others. Soon they drew off and left Éomer alone with the three companions." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"All that you say is strange, Aragorn,\" he said. \"Yet you speak the truth, that is plain: the Men of the Mark do not lie, and therefore they are not easily deceived. But you have not told all. Will you not now speak more fully of your errand, so that I may judge what to do?\"\n\n\"I set out from Imladris, as it is named in the rhyme, many weeks ago,\" answered Aragorn. \"With me went Boromir of Minas Tirith. My errand was to go to that city with the son of Denethor, to aid his folk in their war against Sauron. But the Company that I journeyed with had other business. Of that I cannot speak now. Gandalf the Grey was our leader.\"\n\n\"Gandalf!\" Éomer exclaimed. \"Gandalf Greyhame is known in the Mark; but his name, I warn you, is no longer a password to the king's favour. He has been a guest in the land many times in the memory of men, coming as he will, after a season, or after many years. He is ever the herald of strange events: a bringer of evil, some now say.\n\n\"Indeed since his last coming in the summer all things have gone amiss. At that time our trouble with Saruman began. Until then we counted Saruman our friend, but Gandalf came then and warned us that sudden war was preparing in Isengard. He said that he himself had been a prisoner in Orthanc and had hardly escaped, and he begged for help. But Théoden would not listen to him, and he went away. Speak not the name of Gandalf loudly in Théoden's ears! He is wroth. For Gandalf took the horse that is called Shadowfax, the most precious of all the king's steeds, chief of the Mearas, which only the Lord of the Mark may ride. For the sire of their race was the great horse of Eorl that knew the speech of Men. Seven nights ago Shadowfax returned; but the king's anger is not less, for now the horse is wild and will let no manhandle him. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Then Shadowfax has found his way alone from the far North,\" said Aragorn; \"for it was there that he and Gandalf parted. But alas! Gandalf will ride no longer. He fell into darkness in the Mines of Moria and comes not again.\"\n\n\"That is heavy tidings,\" said Éomer. \"At least tome, and to many; though not to all, as you may find, if you come to the king.\"\n\n\"It is tidings more grievous than any in this land can understand, though it may touch them sorely ere the year is much older,\" said Aragorn. \"But when the great fall, the less must lead. My part it has been to guide our Company on the long road from Moria. Through Lórien we came– of which it were well that you should learn the truth ere you speak of it again– and thence down the leagues of the Great River to the falls of Rauros. There Boromir was slain by the same Orcs whom you destroyed.\"\n\n\"Your news is all of woe!\" cried Éomer in dismay. \"Great harm is this death to Minas Tirith, and to us all. That was a worthy man! All spoke his praise. He came seldom to the Mark, for he was ever in the wars on the East-borders; but I have seen him. More like to the swift sons of Eorl than to the grave Men of Gondor he seemed tome, and likely to prove a great captain of his people when his time came. But we have had no word of this grief out of Gondor. When did he fall?\"\n\n\"It is now the fourth day since he was slain,\" answered Aragorn; \"and since the evening of that day we have journeyed from the shadow of Tol Brandir.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"On foot?\" cried Éomer.\n\n\"Yes, even as you see us.\"\n\nWide wonder came into Éomer's eyes.\"Strider is too poor a name, son of Arathorn, \"he said.\"Wingfoot I name you. This deed of the three friends should be sung in many a hall. Forty leagues and five you have measured ere the fourth day is ended! Hardy is the race of Elendil!\n\n\"But now, lord, what would you have me do! I must return in haste to Théoden. I spoke warily before my men. It is true that we are not yet at open war with the Black Land, and there are some, close to the king's ear, that speak craven counsels; but war is coming. We shall not forsake our old alliance with Gondor, and while they fight we shall aid them: so say I and all who hold with me. The East-mark is my charge, the ward of the Third Marshal, and I have removed all our herds and herdfolk, withdrawing them beyond Entwash, and leaving none here but guards and swift scouts. '\n\n\"Then you do not pay tribute to Sauron?\" said Gimli.\n\n\"We do not and we never have,\" said Éomer with a flash of his eyes; 'though it comes to my ears that that lie has been told. Some years ago the Lord of the Black Land wished to purchase horses of us at great price, but we refused him, for he puts beasts to evil use. Then he sent plundering Orcs, and they carry off what they can, choosing always the black horses: few of these are now left. For that reason our feud with the Orcs is bitter.\n\n'But at this time our chief concern is with Saruman. He has claimed lordship overall this land, and there has been war between us for many months. He has taken Orcs into his service, and Wolf-riders, and evil Men, and he has closed the Gap against us, so that we are likely to be beset both east and west." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It is ill dealing with such a foe: he is a wizard both cunning and dwimmer-crafty, having many guises. He walks here and there, they say, as an old man hooded and cloaked, very like to Gandalf, as many now recall. His spies slip through every net, and his birds of ill omen are abroad in the sky. I do not know how it will all end, and my heart misgives me; for it seems tome that his friends do not all dwell in Isengard. But if you come to the king's house, you shall see for yourself. Will you not come? Do I hope in vain that you have been sent tome fora help in doubt and need? '\n\n\"I will come when I may,\" said Aragorn.\n\n\"Come now!\" said Éomer. 'The Heir of Elendil would be a strength indeed to the Sons of Eorl in this evil tide. There is battle even now upon the Westemnet, and I fear that it may go ill for us.\n\n\"Indeed in this riding north I went without the king's leave, for in my absence his house is left with little guard. But scouts warned me of the orc-host coming down out of the East Wall four nights ago, and among them they reported that some bore the white badges of Saruman. So suspecting what I most fear, a league between Orthanc and the Dark Tower, I led forth my éored, men of my own household; and we overtook the Orcs at nightfall two days ago, near to the borders of the Entwood. There we surrounded them, and gave battle yesterday at dawn. Fifteen of my men I lost, and twelve horses alas! For the Orcs were greater in number than we counted on. Others joined them, coming out of the East across the Great River: their trail is plain to see a little north of this spot. And others, too, came out of the forest. Great Orcs, who also bore the White Hand of Isengard: that kind is stronger and more fell than all others." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Nonetheless we put an end to them. But we have been too long away. We are needed south and west. Will you not come? There are spare horses as you see. There is work for the Sword to do. Yes, and we could find a use for Gimli's axe and the bow of Legolas, if they will pardon my rash words concerning the Lady of the Wood. I spoke only as do all men in my land, and I would gladly learn better. '\n\n\"I thank you for your fair words,\" said Aragorn, \"and my heart desires to come with you; but I cannot desert my friends while hope remains.\"\n\n\"Hope does not remain,\" said Éomer. \"You will not find your friends on the North-borders.\"\n\n\"Yet my friends are not behind. We found a clear token not far from the East Wall that one at least of them was still alive there. But between the wall and the downs we have found no other trace of them, and no trail has turned aside, this way or that, unless my skill has wholly left me.\"\n\n\"Then what do you think has become of them?\"\n\n\"I do not know. They may have been slain and burned among the Orcs; but that you will say cannot be, and I do not fear it. I can only think that they were carried off into the forest before the battle, even before you encircled your foes, maybe. Can you swear that none escaped your net in such away?\"\n\n\"I would swear that no Orc escaped after we sighted them,\" said Éomer. \"We reached the forest-eaves before them, and if after that any living thing broke through our ring, then it was no Orc and had some Elvish power.\"\n\n\"Our friends were attired even as we are,\" said Aragorn; \"and you passed us by under the full light of day.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Extend the story in collaboration with the author.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: J.R.R. Tolkien\nTitle: The Two Towers\nChapter: 6" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Nonetheless we put an end to them. But we have been too long away. We are needed south and west. Will you not come? There are spare horses as you see. There is work for the Sword to do. Yes, and we could find a use for Gimli's axe and the bow of Legolas, if they will pardon my rash words concerning the Lady of the Wood. I spoke only as do all men in my land, and I would gladly learn better. '\n\n\"I thank you for your fair words,\" said Aragorn, \"and my heart desires to come with you; but I cannot desert my friends while hope remains.\"\n\n\"Hope does not remain,\" said Éomer. \"You will not find your friends on the North-borders.\"\n\n\"Yet my friends are not behind. We found a clear token not far from the East Wall that one at least of them was still alive there. But between the wall and the downs we have found no other trace of them, and no trail has turned aside, this way or that, unless my skill has wholly left me.\"\n\n\"Then what do you think has become of them?\"\n\n\"I do not know. They may have been slain and burned among the Orcs; but that you will say cannot be, and I do not fear it. I can only think that they were carried off into the forest before the battle, even before you encircled your foes, maybe. Can you swear that none escaped your net in such away?\"\n\n\"I would swear that no Orc escaped after we sighted them,\" said Éomer. \"We reached the forest-eaves before them, and if after that any living thing broke through our ring, then it was no Orc and had some Elvish power.\"\n\n\"Our friends were attired even as we are,\" said Aragorn; \"and you passed us by under the full light of day.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I had forgotten that,\" said Éomer." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It is hard to be sure of anything among so many marvels. The world is all grown strange. Elf and Dwarf in company walk in our daily fields; and folk speak with the Lady of the Wood and yet live; and the Sword comes back to war that was broken in the long ages ere the fathers of our fathers rode into the Mark! How shall a man judge what to do in such times?\"\n\n\"As he ever has judged,\" said Aragorn. \"Good and ill have not changed since yesteryear; nor are they one thing among Elves and Dwarves and another among Men. It is a man's part to discern them, as much in the Golden Wood as in his own house. '\n\n\"True indeed,\" said Éomer. \"But I do not doubt you, nor the deed which my heart would do. Yet I am not free to do all as I would. It is against our law to let strangers wander at will in our land, until the king himself shall give them leave, and more strict is the command in these days of peril. I have begged you to comeback willingly with me, and you will not. Loth am Ito begin a battle of one hundred against three.\"\n\n\"I do not think your law was made for such a chance,\" said Aragorn. \"Nor indeed am Ia stranger; for I have been in this land before, more than once, and ridden with the host of the Rohirrim, though under other name and in other guise. You I have not seen before, for you are young, but I have spoken with Éomund your father, and with Théoden son of Thengel. Never informer days would any high lord of this land have constrained a man to abandon such a quest as mine. My duty at least is clear, to goon. Come now, son of Éomund, the choice must be made at last. Aid us, or at the worst let us go free. Or seek to carryout your law. If you do so there will be fewer to return to your war or to your king.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Éomer was silent fora moment, then he spoke. \"We both have need of haste,\" he said. \"My company chafes to be away, and every hour lessens your hope. This is my choice. You may go; and what is more, I will lend you horses. This only I ask: when your quest is achieved, or is proved vain, return with the horses over the Entwade to Meduseld, the high house in Edoras where Théoden now sits. Thus you shall prove to him that I have not misjudged. In this I place myself, and maybe my very life, in the keeping of your good faith. Do not fail.\"\n\n\"I will not,\" said Aragorn.\n\nThere was great wonder, and many dark and doubtful glances, among his men, when Éomer gave orders that the spare horses were to be lent to the strangers; but only Éothain dared to speak openly.\n\n\"It maybe well enough for this lord of the race of Gondor, as he claims,\" he said, \"but who has heard of a horse of the Mark being given to a Dwarf?\"\n\n\"No one,\" said Gimli. \"And do not trouble: no one will ever hear of it. I would sooner walk than sit on the back of any beast so great, free or begrudged.\"\n\n\"But you must ride now, or you will hinder us,\" said Aragorn.\n\n\"Come, you shall sit behind me, friend Gimli,\" said Legolas. \"Then all will be well, and you need neither borrow a horse nor be troubled by one.\"\n\nA great dark-grey horse was brought to Aragorn, and he mounted it. \"Hasufel is his name,\" said Éomer. \"May he bear you well and to better fortune than Gárulf, his late master!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A smaller and lighter horse, but restive and fiery, was brought to Legolas. Arod was his name. But Legolas asked them to takeoff saddle and rein. \"I need them not,\" he said, and leaped lightly up, and to their wonder Arod was tame and willing beneath him, moving here and therewith but a spoken word: such was the Elvish way with all good beasts. Gimli was lifted up behind his friend, and he clung to him, not much more at ease than Sam Gamgee in a boat.\n\n\"Farewell, and may you find what you seek!\" cried Éomer. \"Return with what speed you may, and let our swords hereafter shine together!\"\n\n\"I will come,\" said Aragorn.\n\n\"And I will come, too,\" said Gimli. \"The matter of the Lady Galadriel lies still between us. I have yet to teach you gentle speech.\"\n\n\"We shall see,\" said Éomer. \"So many strange things have chanced that to learn the praise of a fair lady under the loving strokes of a Dwarf's axe will seem no great wonder. Farewell! '\n\nWith that they parted. Very swift were the horses of Rohan. When after a little Gimli looked back, the company of Éomer were already small and faraway. Aragorn did not look back: he was watching the trail as they sped on their way, bending low with his head beside the neck of Hasufel. Before long they came to the borders of the Entwash, and there they met the other trail of which Éomer had spoken, coming down from the East out of the Wold.\n\nAragorn dismounted and surveyed the ground, then leaping back into the saddle, he rode away for some distance eastward, keeping to one side and taking care not to override the footprints. Then he again dismounted and examined the ground, going backwards and forwards on foot." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"There is little to discover,\" he said when he returned." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The main trail is all confused with the passage of the horsemen as they came back; their outward course must have lain nearer the river. But this eastward trail is fresh and clear. There is no sign thereof any feet going the other way, back towards Anduin. Now we must ride slower, and make sure that no trace or footstep branches off on either side. The Orcs must have been aware from this point that they were pursued; they may have made some attempt to get their captives away before they were overtaken.\"\n\nAs they rode forward the day was overcast. Low grey clouds came over the Wold. A mist shrouded the sun. Ever nearer the tree-clad slopes of Fangorn loomed, slowly darkling as the sun went west. They saw no sign of any trail to right or left, but here and there they passed single Orcs, fallen in their tracks as they ran, with grey-feathered arrows sticking in back or throat.\n\nAt last as the afternoon was waning they came to the eaves of the forest, and in an open glade among the first trees they found the place of the great burning: the ashes were still hot and smoking. Beside it was a great pile of helms and mail, cloven shields, and broken swords, bows and darts and other gear of war. Upon a stake in the middle was set a great goblin head; upon its shattered helm the white badge could still be seen. Further away, not far from the river, where it came streaming out from the edge of the wood, there was a mound. It was newly raised: the raw earth was covered with fresh-cut turves: about it were planted fifteen spears.\n\nAragorn and his companions searched far and wide about the field of battle, but the light faded, and evening soon drew down, dim and misty. By nightfall they had discovered no trace of Merry and Pippin." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We can do no more,\" said Gimli sadly. \"We have been set many riddles since we came to Tol Brandir, but this is the hardest to unravel. I would guess that the burned bones of the hobbits are now mingled with the Orcs\". It will be hard news for Frodo, if he lives to hear it; and hard too for the old hobbit who waits in Rivendell. Elrond was against their coming. '\n\n\"But Gandalf was not,\" said Legolas.\n\n\"But Gandalf chose to come himself, and he was the first to be lost,\" answered Gimli. \"His foresight failed him.\"\n\n\"The counsel of Gandalf was not founded on foreknowledge of safety, for himself or for others,\" said Aragorn. \"There are somethings that it is better to begin than to refuse, even though the end maybe dark. But I shall not depart from this place yet. In any case we must here await the morning-light.\"\n\nA little way beyond the battle-field they made their camp under a spreading tree: it looked like a chestnut, and yet it still bore many broad brown leaves of a former year, like dry hands with long splayed fingers; they rattled mournfully in the night-breeze.\n\nGimli shivered. They had brought only one blanket apiece.\n\n\"Let us light afire,\" he said. \"I care no longer for the danger. Let the Orcs come as thick as summer-moths round a candle!\"\n\n\"If those unhappy hobbits are astray in the woods, it might draw them hither,\" said Legolas.\n\n\"And it might draw other things, neither Orc nor Hobbit,\" said Aragorn. \"We are near to the mountain-marches of the traitor Saruman. Also we are on the very edge of Fangorn, and it is perilous to touch the trees of that wood, it is said.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"But the Rohirrim made a great burning here yesterday,\" said Gimli, \"and they felled trees for the fire, as can be seen." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Yet they passed the night after safely here, when their labour was ended.\"\n\n\"They were many,\" said Aragorn, \"and they do not heed the wrath of Fangorn, for they come here seldom, and they do not go under the trees. But our paths are likely to lead us into the very forest itself. So have a care! Cut no living wood!\"\n\n\"There is no need,\" said Gimli. \"The Riders have left chip and bough enough, and there is deadwood lying in plenty.\" He went off to gather fuel, and busied himself with building and kindling afire; but Aragorn sat silent with his back to the great tree, deep in thought; and Legolas stood alone in the open, looking towards the profound shadow of the wood, leaning forward, as one who listens to voices calling from a distance.\n\nWhen the Dwarf had a small bright blaze going, the three companions drew close to it and sat together, shrouding the light with their hooded forms. Legolas looked up at the boughs of the tree reaching out above them.\n\n\"Look!\" he said. \"The tree is glad of the fire!\"\n\nIt may have been that the dancing shadows tricked their eyes, but certainly to each of the companions the boughs appeared to be bending this way and that so as to come above the flames, while the upper branches were stooping down; the brown leaves now stood out stiff, and rubbed together like many cold cracked hands taking comfort in the warmth.\n\nThere was a silence, for suddenly the dark and unknown forest, so near at hand, made itself felt as a great brooding presence, full of secret purpose. After awhile Legolas spoke again.\n\n\"Celeborn warned us not to go far into Fangorn,\" he said. \"Do you know why, Aragorn? What are the fables of the forest that Boromir had heard?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I have heard many tales in Gondor and elsewhere,\" said Aragorn, \"but if it were not for the words of Celeborn I should deem them only fables that Men have made as true knowledge fades. I had thought of asking you what was the truth of the matter. And if an Elf of the wood does not know, how shall a Man answer?\"\n\n\"You have journeyed further than I,\" said Legolas. \"I have heard nothing of this in my own land, save only songs that tell how the Onodrim, that Men call Ents, dwelt there long ago; for Fangorn is old, old even as the Elves would reckon it.\"\n\n\"Yes, it is old,\" said Aragorn, \"as old as the forest by the Barrow-downs, and it is far greater. Elrond says that the two are akin, the last strongholds of the mighty woods of the Elder Days, in which the Firstborn roamed while Men still slept. Yet Fangorn holds some secret of its own. What it is I do not know.\"\n\n\"And I do not wish to know,\" said Gimli. \"Let nothing that dwells in Fangorn be troubled on my account!\"\n\nThey now drew lots for the watches, and the lot for the first watch fell to Gimli. The others lay down. Almost at once sleep laid hold on them. \"Gimli!\" said Aragorn drowsily. \"Remember, it is perilous to cut bough or twig from a living tree in Fangorn. But do not stray far in search of deadwood. Let the fire die rather! Call meat need!\"\n\nWith that he fell asleep. Legolas already lay motionless, his fair hands folded upon his breast, his eyes unclosed, blending living night and deep dream, as is the way with Elves. Gimli sat hunched by the fire, running his thumb thoughtfully along the edge of his axe. The tree rustled. There was no other sound." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Suddenly Gimli looked up, and there just on the edge of the firelight stood an old bent man, leaning on a staff, and wrapped in a great cloak; his wide-brimmed hat was pulled down over his eyes." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gimli sprang up, too amazed for the moment to cry out, though at once the thought flashed into his mind that Saruman had caught them. Both Aragorn and Legolas, roused by his sudden movement, sat up and stared. The old man did not speak or make a sign.\n\n\"Well, father, what can we do for you?\" said Aragorn, leaping to his feet. \"Come and be warm, if you are cold!\" He strode forward, but the old man was gone. There was no trace of him to be found near at hand, and they did not dare to wander far. The moon had set and the night was very dark.\n\nSuddenly Legolas gave a cry. \"The horses! The horses!\" The horses were gone. They had dragged their pickets and disappeared. For sometime the three companions stood still and silent, troubled by this new stroke of ill fortune. They were under the eaves of Fangorn, and endless leagues lay between them and the Men of Rohan, their only friends in this wide and dangerous land. As they stood, it seemed to them that they heard, far off in the night, the sound of horses whinnying and neighing. Then all was quiet again, except for the cold rustle of the wind.\n\n\"Well, they are gone,\" said Aragorn at last. \"We cannot find them or catch them; so that if they do not return of their own will, we must do without. We started on our feet, and we have those still.\"\n\n\"Feet!\" said Gimli. \"But we cannot eat them as well as walk on them.\" He threw some fuel on the fire and slumped down beside it.\n\n\"Only a few hours ago you were unwilling to sit on a horse of Rohan,\" laughed Legolas. \"You will make a rider yet.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It seems unlikely that I shall have the chance,\" said Gimli.\n\n\"If you wish to know what I think,\" he began again after awhile, \"I think it was Saruman. Who else? Remember the words of Éomer: he walks about like an old man hooded andcloaked. Those were the words. He has gone off with our horses, or scared them away, and here we are. There is more trouble coming to us, mark my words!\"\n\n\"I mark them,\" said Aragorn. \"But I marked also that this old man had a hat not a hood. Still I do not doubt that you guess right, and that we are in peril here, by night or day. Yet in the meantime there is nothing that we can do but rest, while we may. I will watch fora while now, Gimli. I have more need of thought than of sleep.\"\n\nThe night passed slowly. Legolas followed Aragorn, and Gimli followed Legolas, and their watches wore away. But nothing happened. The old man did not appear again, and the horses did not return." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "THE URUK-HAI\n\nPippin lay in a dark and troubled dream: it seemed that he could hear his own small voice echoing in black tunnels, calling Frodo, Frodo! But instead of Frodo hundreds of hideous orc-faces grinned at him out of the shadows, hundreds of hideous arms grasped at him from every side. Where was Merry?\n\nHe woke. Cold air blew on his face. He was lying on his back. Evening was coming and the sky above was growing dim. He turned and found that the dream was little worse than the waking. His wrists, legs, and ankles were tied with cords. Beside him Merry lay, white-faced, with a dirty rag bound across his brows. All about them sat or stood a great company of Orcs.\n\nSlowly in Pippin's aching head memory pieced itself together and became separated from dream-shadows. Of course: he and Merry had runoff into the woods. What had come over them? Why had they dashed off like that, taking no notice of old Strider? They had run along way shouting– he could not remember how far or how long; and then suddenly they had crashed right into a group of Orcs: they were standing listening, and they did not appear to see Merry and Pippin until they were almost in their arms. Then they yelled and dozens of other goblins had sprung out of the trees. Merry and he had drawn their swords, but the Orcs did not wish to fight, and had tried only to lay hold of them, even when Merry had cutoff several of their arms and hands. Good old Merry!\n\nThen Boromir had come leaping through the trees. He had made them fight. He slew many of them and the rest fled. But they had not gone far on the way back when they were attacked again, by a hundred Orcs at least, some of them very large, and they shot a rain of arrows: always at Boromir. Boromir had blown his great horn till the woods rang, and at first the Orcs had been dismayed and had drawn back; but when no answer but the echoes came, they had attacked more fiercely than ever. Pippin did not remember much more. His last memory was of Boromir leaning against a tree, plucking out an arrow; then darkness fell suddenly." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I suppose I was knocked on the head,\" he said to himself. \"I wonder if poor Merry is much hurt. What has happened to Boromir? Why didn't the Orcs kill us? Where are we, and where are we going? '\n\nHe could not answer the questions. He felt cold and sick. \"I wish Gandalf had never persuaded Elrond to let us come,\" he thought. \"What good have I been? Just a nuisance: a passenger, apiece of luggage. And now I have been stolen and I am just apiece of luggage for the Orcs. I hope Strider or someone will come and claim us! But ought Ito hope for it? Won't that throw out all the plans? I wish I could get free! '\n\nHe struggled a little, quite uselessly. One of the Orcs sitting near laughed and said something to a companion in their abominable tongue. \"Rest while you can, little fool!\" he said then to Pippin, in the Common Speech, which he made almost as hideous as his own language. \"Rest while you can! We'll find a use for your legs before long. You'll wish you had got none before we get home.\"\n\n\"If I had my way, you'd wish you were dead now, \"said the other.\"I'd make you squeak, you miserable rat.\" He stooped over Pippin, bringing his yellow fangs close to his face. He had a black knife with along jagged blade in his hand. \"Lie quiet, or I'll tickle you with this, \"he hissed.\"Don't draw attention to yourself, or I may forget my orders. Curse the Isengarders! Uglúk u bagronk sha pushdug Saruman-glob búbhosh skai\" : he passed into along angry speech in his own tongue that slowly died away into muttering and snarling." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Terrified Pippin lay still, though the pain at his wrists and ankles was growing, and the stones beneath him were boring into his back. To take his mind off himself he listened intently to all that he could hear. There were many voices roundabout, and though orc-speech sounded at all times full of hate and anger, it seemed plain that something like a quarrel had begun, and was getting hotter.\n\nTo Pippin's surprise he found that much of the talk was intelligible; many of the Orcs were using ordinary language. Apparently the members of two or three quite different tribes were present, and they could not understand one another's orc-speech. There was an angry debate concerning what they were to do now: which way they were to take and what should be done with the prisoners.\n\n\"There's no time to kill them properly, \"said one.\"No time for play on this trip. '\n\n\"That can't be helped, \"said another.\"But why not kill them quick, kill them now? They're a cursed nuisance, and we're in a hurry. Evening's coming on, and we ought to get a move on.\"\n\n\"Orders,\" said a third voice in a deep growl. \"Kill all but NOT the Halflings; they are to be brought back ALIVE as quickly as possible. That's my orders. '\n\n\"What are they wanted for?\" asked several voices. \"Why alive? Do they give good sport?\"\n\n\"No! I heard that one of them has got something, something that's wanted for the War, some Elvish plot or other. Anyway they'll both be questioned.\"\n\n\"Is that all you know? Why don't we search them and find out? We might find something that we could use ourselves. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"That is a very interesting remark,\" sneered a voice, softer than the others but more evil." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I may have to report that. The prisoners are not to be searched or plundered: those are my orders.\"\n\n\"And mine too,\" said the deep voice. \"Alive and as captured; no spoiling. That's my orders. '\n\n\"Not our orders!\" said one of the earlier voices. \"We have come all the way from the Mines to kill, and avenge our folk. I wish to kill, and then go back north.\"\n\n\"Then you can wish again,\" said the growling voice. \"I am Uglúk. I command. I return to Isengard by the shortest road.\"\n\n\"Is Saruman the master or the Great Eye?\" said the evil voice. \"We should go back at once to Lugbúrz.\"\n\n\"If we could cross the Great River, we might,\" said another voice. \"But there are not enough of us to venture down to the bridges.\"\n\n\"I came across,\" said the evil voice. \"A winged Nazgûl awaits us northward on the east-bank.\"\n\n\"Maybe, maybe! Then you'll fly off with our prisoners, and get all the pay and praise in Lugbúrz, and leave us to foot it as best we can through the Horse-country. No, we must stick together. These lands are dangerous: full of foul rebels and brigands. '\n\n\"Aye, we must stick together,\" growled Uglúk. \"I don't trust you little swine. You've no guts outside your own sties. But for us you'd all have runaway. We are the fighting Uruk-hai! We slew the great warrior. We took the prisoners. We are the servants of Saruman the Wise, the White Hand: the Hand that gives us man's-flesh to eat. We came out of Isengard, and led you here, and we shall lead you back by the way we choose. I am Uglúk. I have spoken.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You have spoken more than enough, Uglúk,\" sneered the evil voice." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I wonder how they would like it in Lugbúrz. They might think that Uglúk's shoulders needed relieving of a swollen head. They might ask where his strange ideas came from. Did they come from Saruman, perhaps? Who does he think he is, setting upon his own with his filthy white badges? They might agree with me, with Grishnákh their trusted messenger; and I Grishnákh say this: Saruman is a fool, and a dirty treacherous fool. But the Great Eye is on him.\n\n\"Swine is it? How do you folk like being called swine by the muck-rakers of a dirty little wizard? It's orc-flesh they eat, I'll warrant.\"\n\nMany loud yells in orc-speech answered him, and the ringing clash of weapons being drawn. Cautiously Pippin rolled over, hoping to see what would happen. His guards had gone to join in the fray. In the twilight he saw a large black Orc, probably Uglúk, standing facing Grishnákh, a short crook-legged creature, very broad and with long arms that hung almost to the ground. Round them were many smaller goblins. Pippin supposed that these were the ones from the North. They had drawn their knives and swords, but hesitated to attack Uglúk.\n\nUglúk shouted, and a number of other Orcs of nearly his own size ran up. Then suddenly, without warning, Uglúk sprang forwards, and with two swift strokes swept the heads off two of his opponents. Grishnákh stepped aside and vanished into the shadows. The others gave way, and one stepped backwards and fell over Merry's prostrate form with a curse. Yet that probably saved his life, for Uglúk's followers leaped over him and cut down another with their broad-bladed swords. It was the yellow-fanged guard. His body fell right on top of Pippin, still clutching its long saw-edged knife." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Put up your weapons!\" shouted Uglúk. \"And let's have no more nonsense! We go straight west from here, and down the stair. From there straight to the downs, then along the river to the forest. And we march day and night. That clear? '\n\n\"Now,\" thought Pippin, \"if only it takes that ugly fellow a little while to get his troop under control, I've got a chance. ' Agleam of hope had come to him. The edge of the black knife had snicked his arm, and then slid down to his wrist. He felt the blood trickling onto his hand, but he also felt the cold touch of steel against his skin.\n\nThe Orcs were getting ready to march again, but some of the Northerners were still unwilling, and the Isengarders slew two more before the rest were cowed. There was much cursing and confusion. For the moment Pippin was unwatched. His legs were securely bound, but his arms were only tied about the wrists, and his hands were in front of him. He could move them both together, though the bonds were cruelly tight. He pushed the dead Orc to one side, then hardly daring to breathe, he drew the knot of the wrist-cord up and down against the blade of the knife. It was sharp and the dead handheld it fast. The cord was cut! Quickly Pippin took it in his fingers and knotted it again into a loose bracelet of two loops and slipped it over his hands. Then he lay very still.\n\n\"Pick up those prisoners!\" shouted Uglúk. \"Don't play any tricks with them! If they are not alive when we get back, someone else will die too. '\n\nAn Orc seized Pippin like a sack, put its head between his tied hands, grabbed his arms and dragged them down, until Pippin's face was crushed against its neck; then it jolted off with him. Another treated Merry in the same way. The Orc's clawlike hand gripped Pippin's arms like iron; the nails bit into him. He shut his eyes and slipped back into evil dreams." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Suddenly he was thrown onto the stony floor again. It was early night, but the slim moon was already falling westward. They were on the edge of a cliff that seemed to lookout over a sea of pale mist. There was a sound of water falling nearby.\n\n\"The scouts have comeback at last,\" said an Orc close at hand.\n\n\"Well, what did you discover?\" growled the voice of Uglúk.\n\n\"Only a single horseman, and he made off westwards. All's clear now. '\n\n\"Now, I daresay. But how long? You fools! You should have shot him. He'll raise the alarm. The cursed horse-breeders will hear of us by morning. Now we'll have to legit double quick.\"\n\nA shadow bent over Pippin. It was Uglúk. \"Sit up!\" said the Orc. \"My lads are tired of lugging you about. We have got to climb down, and you must use your legs. Be helpful now. No crying out, no trying to escape. We have ways of paying for tricks that you won't like, though they won't spoil your usefulness for the Master.\"\n\nHe cut the thongs round Pippin's legs and ankles, picked him up by his hair and stood him on his feet. Pippin fell down, and Uglúk dragged him up by his hair again. Several Orcs laughed. Uglúk thrust a flask between his teeth and poured some burning liquid down his throat: he felt a hot fierce glow flow through him. The pain in his legs and ankles vanished. He could stand.\n\n\"Now for the other!\" said Uglúk. Pippin saw him go to Merry, who was lying close by, and kick him. Merry groaned. Seizing him roughly Uglúk pulled him into a sitting position, and tore the bandage off his head. Then he smeared the wound with some dark stuff out of a small wooden box. Merry cried out and struggled wildly." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Orcs clapped and hooted. \"Can't take his medicine, \"they jeered.\"Doesn't know what's good for him. Ai! We shall have some fun later. '\n\nBut at the moment Uglúk was not engaged in sport. He needed speed and had to humour unwilling followers. He was healing Merry in orc-fashion; and his treatment worked swiftly. When he had forced a drink from his flask down the hobbit's throat, cut his leg-bonds, and dragged him to his feet, Merry stood up, looking pale but grim and defiant, and very much alive. The gash in his forehead gave him no more trouble, but he bore a brown scar to the end of his days.\n\n\"Hullo, Pippin!\" he said. \"So you've come on this little expedition, too? Where do we get bed and breakfast? '\n\n\"Now then!\" said Uglúk. \"None of that! Hold your tongues. No talk to one another. Any trouble will be reported at the other end, and He'll know how to pay you. You'll get bed and breakfast all right: more than you can stomach.\"\n\nThe orc-band began to descend a narrow ravine leading down into the misty plain below. Merry and Pippin, separated by a dozen Orcs or more, climbed down with them. At the bottom they stepped onto grass, and the hearts of the hobbits rose.\n\n\"Now straight on!\" shouted Uglúk. \"West and a little north. Follow Lugdush.\"\n\n\"But what are we going to do at sunrise?\" said some of the Northerners.\n\n\"Go on running,\" said Uglúk. \"What do you think? Sit on the grass and wait for the Whiteskins to join the picnic?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"But we can't run in the sunlight." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "'\n\n\"You'll run with me behind you, \"said Uglúk.\"Run! Or you'll never see your beloved holes again. By the White Hand! What's the use of sending out mountain-maggots on a trip, only half trained. Run, curse you! Run while night lasts! '\n\nThen the whole company began to run with the long loping strides of Orcs. They kept no order, thrusting, jostling, and cursing; yet their speed was very great. Each hobbit had a guard of three. Pippin was far back in the line. He wondered how long he would be able to goon at this pace: he had had no food since the morning. One of his guards had a whip. But at present the orc-liquor was still hot in him. His wits, too, were wide-awake.\n\nEvery now and again there came into his mind unbidden a vision of the keen face of Strider bending over a dark trail, and running, running behind. But what could even a Ranger see except a confused trail of orc-feet? His own little prints and Merry's were overwhelmed by the trampling of the iron-shod shoes before them and behind them and about them.\n\nThey had gone only a mile or so from the cliff when the land sloped down into a wide shallow depression, where the ground was soft and wet. Mist lay there, pale-glimmering in the last rays of the sickle moon. The dark shapes of the Orcs in front grew dim, and then were swallowed up.\n\n\"Ai! Steady now!\" shouted Uglúk from the rear.\n\nA sudden thought leaped into Pippin's mind, and he acted on it at once. He swerved aside to the right, and dived out of the reach of his clutching guard, headfirst into the mist; he landed sprawling on the grass." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Halt!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "yelled Uglúk.\n\nThere was fora moment turmoil and confusion. Pippin sprang up and ran. But the Orcs were after him. Some suddenly loomed upright in front of him.\n\n\"No hope of escape!\" thought Pippin. \"But there is a hope that I have left some of my own marks unspoilt on the wet ground.\" He groped with his two tied hands at his throat, and unclasped the brooch of his cloak. Just as long arms and hard claws seized him, he let it fall. \"There I suppose it will lie until the end of time,\" he thought. \"I don't know why I did it. If the others have escaped, they've probably all gone with Frodo.\"\n\nA whip-thong curled round his legs, and he stifled a cry. \"Enough!\" shouted Uglúk running up. \"He's still got to run along way yet. Make \"em both run! Just use the whip as a reminder.\"\n\n\"But that's not all, \"he snarled, turning to Pippin.\"I shan't forget. Payment is only put off. Legit!\"\n\nNeither Pippin nor Merry remembered much of the later part of the journey. Evil dreams and evil waking were blended into along tunnel of misery, with hope growing ever fainter behind. They ran, and they ran, striving to keep up the pace set by the Orcs, licked every now and again with a cruel thong cunningly handled. If they halted or stumbled, they were seized and dragged for some distance.\n\nThe warmth of the orc-draught had gone. Pippin felt cold and sick again. Suddenly he fell face downward on the turf. Hard hands with rending nails gripped and lifted him. He was carried like a sack once more, and darkness grew about him: whether the darkness of another night, or a blindness of his eyes, he could not tell." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dimly he became aware of voices clamouring: it seemed that many of the Orcs were demanding a halt. Uglúk was shouting. He felt himself flung to the ground, and he lay as he fell, till black dreams took him. But he did not long escape from pain; soon the iron grip of merciless hands was on him again. Fora longtime he was tossed and shaken, and then slowly the darkness gave way, and he came back to the waking world and found that it was morning. Orders were shouted and he was thrown roughly on the grass.\n\nThere he lay fora while, fighting with despair. His head swam, but from the heat in his body he guessed that he had been given another draught. An Orc stooped over him, and flung him some bread and a strip of raw dried flesh. He ate the stale grey bread hungrily, but not the meat. He was famished but not yet so famished as to eat flesh flung to him by an Orc, the flesh of he dared not guess what creature.\n\nHe sat up and looked about. Merry was not faraway. They were by the banks of a swift narrow river. Ahead mountains loomed: a tall peak was catching the first rays of the sun. A dark smudge of forest lay on the lower slopes before them.\n\nThere was much shouting and debating among the Orcs; a quarrel seemed on the point of breaking out again between the Northerners and the Isengarders. Some were pointing back away south, and some were pointing eastward.\n\n\"Very well,\" said Uglúk. \"Leave them tome then! No killing, as I've told you before; but if you want to throwaway what we've come all the way to get, throw it away! I'll look after it. Let the fighting Uruk-hai do the work, as usual. If you're afraid of the Whiteskins, run! Run! There's the forest, \"he shouted, pointing ahead.\"Get to it! It's your best hope. Off you go! And quick, before I knock a few more heads off, to put some sense into the others.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "There was some cursing and scuffling, and then most of the Northerners broke away and dashed off, over a hundred of them, running wildly along the river towards the mountains." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The hobbits were left with the Isengarders: a grim dark band, fourscore at least of large, swart, slant-eyed Orcs with great bows and short broad-bladed swords. A few of the larger and bolder Northerners remained with them.\n\n\"Now we'll deal with Grishnákh, ' said Uglúk; but some even of his own followers were looking uneasily southwards.\n\n\"I know,\" growled Uglúk. \"The cursed horse-boys have got wind of us. But that's all your fault, Snaga. You and the other scouts ought to have your ears cutoff. But we are the fighters. We'll feast on horseflesh yet, or something better.\"\n\nAt that moment Pippin saw why some of the troop had been pointing eastward. From that direction there now came hoarse cries, and there was Grishnákh again, and at his back a couple of score of others like him: long-armed crook-legged Orcs. They had a red eye painted on their shields. Uglúk stepped forward to meet them.\n\n\"So you've comeback? \"he said.\"Thought better of it, eh? '\n\n\"I've returned to see that Orders are carried out and the prisoners safe, ' answered Grishnákh.\n\n\"Indeed!\" said Uglúk. \"Waste of effort. I'll see that orders are carried out in my command. And what else did you comeback for? You went in a hurry. Did you leave anything behind? '\n\n\"I left a fool,\" snarled Grishnákh. \"But there were some stout fellows with him that are too good to lose. I knew you'd lead them into a mess. I've come to help them.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Splendid!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "laughed Uglúk. \"But unless you've got some guts for fighting, you've taken the wrong way. Lugbúrz was your road. The Whiteskins are coming. What's happened to your precious Nazgûl? Has he had another mount shot under him? Now, if you'd brought him along, that might have been useful– if these Nazgûl are all they make out.\"\n\n\"Nazgûl, Nazgûl,\" said Grishnákh, shivering and licking his lips, as if the word had afoul taste that he savoured painfully. \"You speak of what is deep beyond the reach of your muddy dreams, Uglúk,\" he said. \"Nazgûl! Ah! All that they make out! One day you'll wish that you had not said that. Ape! \"he snarled fiercely.\"You ought to know that they're the apple of the Great Eye. But the winged Nazgûl: not yet, not yet. He won't let them show themselves across the Great River yet, not too soon. They're for the War– and other purposes.\"\n\n\"You seem to know a lot,\" said Uglúk. \"More than is good for you, I guess. Perhaps those in Lugbúrz might wonder how, and why. But in the meantime the Uruk-hai of Isengard can do the dirty work, as usual. Don't stand slavering there! Get your rabble together! The other swine are legging it to the forest. You'd better follow. You wouldn't get back to the\n\nGreat River alive. Right off the mark! Now! I'll be on your heels.\"\n\nThe Isengarders seized Merry and Pippin again and slung them on their backs. Then the troop started off. Hour after hour they ran, pausing now and again only to sling the hobbits to fresh carriers. Either because they were quicker and hardier, or because of some plan of Grishnákh's, the Isengarders gradually passed through the Orcs of Mordor, and Grishnákh's folk closed in behind. Soon they were gaining also on the Northerners ahead. The forest began to draw nearer." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Pippin was bruised and torn, his aching head was grated by the filthy jowl and hairy ear of the Orc that held him. Immediately in front were bowed backs, and tough thick legs going up and down, up and down, unresting, as if they were made of wire and horn, beating out the nightmare seconds of an endless time.\n\nIn the afternoon Uglúk's troop overtook the Northerners. They were flagging in the rays of the bright sun, winter sun shining in a pale cool sky though it was; their heads were down and their tongues lolling out.\n\n\"Maggots!\" jeered the Isengarders. \"You're cooked. The Whiteskins will catch you and eat you. They're coming!\"\n\nA cry from Grishnákh showed that this was not mere jest. Horsemen, riding very swiftly, had indeed been sighted: still far behind but gaining on the Orcs, gaining on them like a tide over the flats on folk straying in a quicksand.\n\nThe Isengarders began to run with a redoubled pace that astonished Pippin, a terrific spurt it seemed for the end of a race. Then he saw that the sun was sinking, falling behind the Misty Mountains; shadows reached over the land. The soldiers of Mordor lifted their heads and also began to put on speed. The forest was dark and close. Already they had passed a few outlying trees. The land was beginning to slope upwards, evermore steeply; but the Orcs did not halt. Both Uglúk and Grishnákh shouted, spurring them onto a last effort.\n\n\"They will make it yet. They will escape,\" thought Pippin. And then he managed to twist his neck, so as to glance back with one eye over his shoulder. He saw that riders away eastward were already level with the Orcs, galloping over the plain. The sunset gilded their spears and helmets, and glinted in their pale flowing hair. They were hemming the Orcs in, preventing them from scattering, and driving them along the line of the river." }, { "from": "human", "value": "He wondered very much what kind of folk they were." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He wished now that he had learned more in Rivendell, and looked more at maps and things; but in those days the plans for the journey seemed to be in more competent hands, and he had never reckoned with being cutoff from Gandalf, or from Strider, and even from Frodo. All that he could remember about Rohan was that Gandalf's horse, Shadowfax, had come from that land. That sounded hopeful, as far as it went.\n\n\"But how will they know that we are not Orcs?\" he thought. \"I don't suppose they've ever heard of hobbits down here. I suppose I ought to be glad that the beastly Orcs look like being destroyed, but I would rather be saved myself.\" The chances were that he and Merry would be killed together with their captors, before ever the Men of Rohan were aware of them.\n\nA few of the riders appeared to be bowmen, skilled at shooting from a running horse. Riding swiftly into range they shot arrows at the Orcs that straggled behind, and several of them fell; then the riders wheeled away out of the range of the answering bows of their enemies, who shot wildly, not daring to halt. This happened many times, and on one occasion arrows fell among the Isengarders. One of them, just in front of Pippin, stumbled and did not getup again.\n\nNight came down without the Riders closing in for battle. Many Orcs had fallen, but fully two hundred remained. In the early darkness the Orcs came to a hillock. The eaves of the forest were very near, probably no more than three furlongs away, but they could go no further. The horsemen had encircled them. A small band disobeyed Uglúk's command, and ran on towards the forest: only three returned." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Well, here we are,\" sneered Grishnákh." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Fine leadership! I hope the great Uglúk will lead us out again.\"\n\n\"Put those Halflings down!\" ordered Uglúk, taking no notice of Grishnákh. \"You, Lugdush, get two others and stand guard over them! They're not to be killed, unless the filthy Whiteskins breakthrough. Understand? As long as I'm alive, I want'em. But they're not to cry out, and they're not to be rescued. Bind their legs! '\n\nThe last part of the order was carried out mercilessly. But Pippin found that for the first time he was close to Merry. The Orcs were making a great deal of noise, shouting and clashing their weapons, and the hobbits managed to whisper together fora while.\n\n\"I don't think much of this, \"said Merry.\"I feel nearly done in. Don't think I could crawl away far, even if I was free.\"\n\n\"Lembas!\" whispered Pippin. \"Lembas: I've got some. Have you? I don't think they've taken anything but our swords. '\n\n\"Yes, I had a packet in my pocket,\" answered Merry, \"but it must be battered to crumbs. Anyway I can't put my mouth in my pocket! '\n\n\"You won't have to. I've-\" ; but just then a savage kick warned Pippin that the noise had died down, and the guards were watchful.\n\nThe night was cold and still. All round the knoll on which the Orcs were gathered little watch-fires sprang up, golden-red in the darkness, a complete ring of them. They were within along bowshot, but the riders did not show themselves against the light, and the Orcs wasted many arrows shooting at the fires, until Uglúk stopped them. The riders made no sound. Later in the night when the moon came out of the mist, then occasionally they could be seen, shadowy shapes that glinted now and again in the white light, as they moved in ceaseless patrol." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"They'll wait for the Sun, curse them! ' growled one of the\n\nguards. \"Why don't we get together and charge through? What's old Uglúk think he's doing, I should like to know? '\n\n\"I daresay you would,\" snarled Uglúk stepping up from behind. \"Meaning I don't think at all, eh? Curse you! You're as bad as the other rabble: the maggots and the apes of Lugbúrz. No good trying to charge with them. They'd just squeal and bolt, and there are more than enough of these filthy horse-boys to mop up our lot on the flat.\n\n\"There's only one thing those maggots can do: they can see like gimlets in the dark. But these Whiteskins have better night-eyes than most Men, from all I've heard; and don't forget their horses! They can seethe night-breeze, or so it's said. Still there's one thing the fine fellows don't know: Mauhúr and his lads are in the forest, and they should turn up anytime now.\"\n\nUglúk's words were enough, apparently, to satisfy the Isengarders; but the other Orcs were both dispirited and rebellious. They posted a few watchers, but most of them lay on the ground, resting in the pleasant darkness. It did indeed become very dark again; for the moon passed westward into thick cloud, and Pippin could not see anything a few feet away. The fires brought no light to the hillock. The riders were not, however, content merely to wait for the dawn and let their enemies rest. A sudden outcry on the east side of the knoll showed that something was wrong. It seemed that some of the Men had ridden in close, slipped off their horses, crawled to the edge of the camp and killed several Orcs, and then had faded away again. Uglúk dashed off to stop a stampede." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Pippin and Merry sat up. Their guards, Isengarders, had gone with Uglúk. But if the hobbits had any thought of escape, it was soon dashed. Along hairy arm took each of them by the neck and drew them close together. Dimly they were aware of Grishnákh's great head and hideous face between them; his foul breath was on their cheeks. He began to paw them and feel them. Pippin shuddered as hard cold fingers groped down his back.\n\n\"Well, my little ones!\" said Grishnákh in a soft whisper. \"Enjoying your nice rest? Or not? A little awkwardly placed perhaps: swords and whips on one side, and nasty spears on the other! Little people should not meddle in affairs that are too big for them.\" His fingers continued to grope. There was alight like a pale but hot fire behind his eyes.\n\nThe thought came suddenly into Pippin's mind, as if caught direct from the urgent thought of his enemy:\"Grishnákh knows about the Ring! He's looking for it, while Uglúk is busy: he probably wants it for himself.\" Cold fear was in Pippin's heart, yet at the same time he was wondering what use he could make of Grishnákh's desire.\n\n\"I don't think you will find it that way, \"he whispered.\"It isn't easy to find.\"\n\n\"Find it?\" said Grishnákh: his fingers stopped crawling and gripped Pippin's shoulder.\"Find what? What are you talking about, little one? '\n\nFora moment Pippin was silent. Then suddenly in the darkness he made a noise in his throat: gollum, gollum. \"Nothing, my precious,\" he added." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The hobbits felt Grishnákh's fingers twitch.\"O ho! \"hissed the goblin softly.\"That's what he means, is it? Oho! Very ve-ry dangerous, my little ones.\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" said Merry, now alert and aware of Pippin's guess.\"Perhaps; and not only for us. Still you know your own business best. Do you want it, or not? And what would you give for it? '\n\n\"Do I want it? Do I want it?\" said Grishnákh, as if puzzled; but his arms were trembling. \"What would I give for it? What do you mean?\"\n\n\"We mean,\" said Pippin, choosing his words carefully, \"that it's no good groping in the dark. We could save you time and trouble. But you must untie our legs first, or we'll do nothing, and say nothing.\"\n\n\"My dear tender little fools,\" hissed Grishnákh, \"everything you have, and everything you know, will begot out of you in due time: everything! You'll wish there was more that you could tell to satisfy the Questioner, indeed you will: quite soon. We shan't hurry the enquiry. Oh dear no! What do you think you've been kept alive for? My dear little fellows, please believe me when I say that it was not out of kindness: that's not even one of Uglúk's faults. '\n\n\"I find it quite easy to believe,\" said Merry. \"But you haven't got your prey home yet. And it doesn't seem to be going your way, whatever happens. If we come to Isengard, it won't be the great Grishnákh that benefits: Saruman will take all that he can find. If you want anything for yourself, now's the time to do a deal.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Grishnákh began to lose his temper. The name of Saruman seemed specially to enrage him. Time was passing and the disturbance was dying down. Uglúk or the Isengarders might return at any minute. \"Have you got it– either of you?\" he snarled.\n\n\"Gollum, gollum!\" said Pippin.\n\n\"Untie our legs!\" said Merry.\n\nThey felt the Orc's arms trembling violently.\"Curse you, you filthy little vermin! \"he hissed.\"Untie your legs? I'll untie every string in your bodies. Do you think I can't search you to the bones? Search you! I'll cut you both to quivering shreds. I don't need the help of your legs to get you away– and have you all to myself! '\n\nSuddenly he seized them. The strength in his long arms and shoulders was terrifying. He tucked them one under each armpit, and crushed them fiercely to his sides; a great stifling hand was clapped over each of their mouths. Then he sprang forward, stooping low. Quickly and silently he went, until he came to the edge of the knoll. There, choosing a gap between the watchers, he passed like an evil shadow out into the night, down the slope and away westward towards the river that flowed out of the forest. In that direction there was a wide open space with only one fire.\n\nAfter going a dozen yards he halted, peering and listening. Nothing could be seen or heard. He crept slowly on, bent almost double. Then he squatted and listened again. Then he stood up, as if to risk a sudden dash. At that very moment the dark form of a rider loomed upright in front of him. A horse snorted and reared. A man called out." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Grishnákh flung himself on the ground flat, dragging the hobbits under him; then he drew his sword. No doubt he meant to kill his captives, rather than allow them to escape or to be rescued; but it was his undoing. The sword rang faintly, and glinted a little in the light of the fire away to his left. An arrow came whistling out of the gloom: it was aimed with skill, or guided by fate, and it pierced his right hand. He dropped the sword and shrieked. There was a quick beat of hoofs, and even as Grishnákh leaped up and ran, he was ridden down and a spear passed through him. He gave a hideous shivering cry and lay still.\n\nThe hobbits remained flat on the ground, as Grishnákh had left them. Another horseman came riding swiftly to his comrade's aid. Whether because of some special keenness of sight, or because of some other sense, the horse lifted and sprang lightly over them; but its rider did not see them, lying covered in their elven-cloaks, too crushed for the moment, and too afraid to move.\n\nAt last Merry stirred and whispered softly: \"So far so good; but how are we to avoid being spitted?\"\n\nThe answer came almost immediately. The cries of Grishnákh had roused the Orcs. From the yells and screeches that came from the knoll the hobbits guessed that their disappearance had been discovered: Uglúk was probably knocking off a few more heads. Then suddenly the answering cries of orc-voices came from the right, outside the circle of watch-fires, from the direction of the forest and the mountains. Mauhúr had apparently arrived and was attacking the besiegers. There was the sound of galloping horses. The Riders were drawing in their ring close round the knoll, risking the orc-arrows, so as to prevent any sortie, while a company rode off to deal with the newcomers. Suddenly Merry and Pippin realized that without moving they were now outside the circle: there was nothing between them and escape." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Now,\" said Merry, \"if only we had our legs and hands free, we might getaway. But I can't touch the knots, and I can't bite them.\"\n\n\"No need to try,\" said Pippin. \"I was going to tell you: I've managed to free my hands. These loops are only left for show. You'd better have a bit of lembas first.\"\n\nHe slipped the cords off his wrists, and fished out a packet. The cakes were broken, but good, still in their leaf-wrappings. The hobbits each ate two or three pieces. The taste brought back to them the memory of fair faces, and laughter, and wholesome food in quiet days now faraway. Fora while they ate thoughtfully, sitting in the dark, heedless of the cries and sounds of battle nearby. Pippin was the first to comeback to the present.\n\n\"We must be off,\" he said. \"Half a moment!\" Grishnákh's sword was lying close at hand, but it was too heavy and clumsy for him to use; so he crawled forward, and finding the body of the goblin he drew from its sheath along sharp knife. With this he quickly cut their bonds.\n\n\"Now for it!\" he said. \"When we've warmed up a bit, perhaps we shall be able to stand again, and walk. But in any case we had better start by crawling. '\n\nThey crawled. The turf was deep and yielding, and that helped them; but it seemed along slow business. They gave the watch-fire a wide berth, and wormed their way forward bit by bit, until they came to the edge of the river, gurgling away in the black shadows under its deep banks. Then they looked back.\n\nThe sounds had died away. Evidently Mauhúr and his \"lads\" had been killed or driven off. The Riders had returned to their silent ominous vigil. It would not last very much longer. Already the night was old. In the East, which had remained unclouded, the sky was beginning to grow pale." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We must get undercover,\" said Pippin, \"or we shall be seen. It will not be any comfort to us, if these riders discover that we are not Orcs after we are dead.\" He got up and stamped his feet. \"Those cords have cut me like wires; but my feet are getting warm again. I could stagger on now. What about you, Merry?\"\n\nMerry got up. \"Yes,\" he said, \"I can manage it. Lembas does put heart into you! A more wholesome sort of feeling, too, than the heat of that orc-draught. I wonder what it was made of. Better not to know, I expect. Let's get a drink of water to wash away the thought of it! '\n\n\"Not here, the banks are too steep,\" said Pippin. \"Forward now!\"\n\nThey turned and walked side by side slowly along the line of the river. Behind them the light grew in the East. As they walked they compared notes, talking lightly in hobbit-fashion of the things that had happened since their capture. No listener would have guessed from their words that they had suffered cruelly, and been in dire peril, going without hope towards torment and death; or that even now, as they knew well, they had little chance of ever finding friend or safety again.\n\n\"You seem to have been doing well, Master Took,\" said Merry. \"You will get almost a chapter in old Bilbo's book, if ever I get a chance to report to him. Good work: especially guessing that hairy villain's little game, and playing up to him. But I wonder if anyone will ever pickup your trail and find that brooch. I should hate to lose mine, but I am afraid yours is gone for good.\n\n\"I shall have to brush up my toes, if I am to get level with you. Indeed Cousin Brandybuck is going in front now. This is where he comes in. I don't suppose you have much notion where we are; but I spent my time at Rivendell rather better. We are walking west along the Entwash. The butt-end of the Misty Mountains is in front, and Fangorn Forest. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Even as he spoke the dark edge of the forest loomed up straight before them. Night seemed to have taken refuge under its great trees, creeping away from the coming Dawn.\n\n\"Lead on, Master Brandybuck!\" said Pippin. \"Or lead back! We have been warned against Fangorn. But one so knowing will not have forgotten that.\"\n\n\"I have not,\" answered Merry; \"but the forest seems better tome, all the same, than turning back into the middle of a battle.\"\n\nHe led the way in under the huge branches of the trees. Old beyond guessing, they seemed. Great trailing beards of lichen hung from them, blowing and swaying in the breeze. Out of the shadows the hobbits peeped, gazing back down the slope: little furtive figures that in the dim light looked like elf-children in the deeps of time peering out of the Wild Wood in wonder at their first Dawn.\n\nFar over the Great River, and the Brown Lands, leagues upon grey leagues away, the Dawn came, red as flame. Loud rang the hunting-horns to greet it. The Riders of Rohan sprang suddenly to life. Horn answered horn again.\n\nMerry and Pippin heard, clear in the cold air, the neighing of war-horses, and the sudden singing of many men. The Sun's limb was lifted, an arc of fire, above the margin of the world. Then with a great cry the Riders charged from the East; the red light gleamed on mail and spear. The Orcs yelled and shot all the arrows that remained to them. The hobbits saw several horsemen fall; but their line held on up the hill and over it, and wheeled round and charged again. Most of the raiders that were left alive then broke and fled, this way and that, pursued one by one to the death. But one band, holding together in a black wedge, drove forward resolutely in the direction of the forest. Straight up the slope they charged towards the watchers. Now they were drawing near, and it seemed certain that they would escape: they had already hewn down three Riders that barred their way." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"We have watched too long,\" said Merry." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There's Uglúk! I don't want to meet him again.\" The hobbits turned and fled deep into the shadows of the wood.\n\nSo it was that they did not seethe last stand, when Uglúk was overtaken and brought to bay at the very edge of\n\nFangorn. There he was slain at last by Éomer, the Third Marshal of the Mark, who dismounted and fought him sword to sword. And over the wide fields the keen-eyed Riders hunted down the few Orcs that had escaped and still had strength to fly.\n\nThen when they had laid their fallen comrades in a mound and had sung their praises, the Riders made a great fire and scattered the ashes of their enemies. So ended the raid, and no news of it came ever back either to Mordor or to Isengard; but the smoke of the burning rose high to heaven and was seen by many watchful eyes." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "TREEBEARD\n\nMeanwhile the hobbits went with as much speed as the dark and tangled forest allowed, following the line of the running stream, westward and up towards the slopes of the mountains, deeper and deeper into Fangorn. Slowly their fear of the Orcs died away, and their pace slackened. A queer stifling feeling came over them, as if the air were too thin or too scanty for breathing.\n\nAt last Merry halted. \"We can't goon like this, \"he panted.\"I want some air. '\n\n\"Let's have a drink at any rate, \"said Pippin.\"I'm parched.\" He clambered onto a great tree-root that wound down into the stream, and stooping drew up some water in his cupped hands. It was clear and cold, and he took many draughts. Merry followed him. The water refreshed them and seemed to cheer their hearts; fora while they sat together on the brink of the stream, dabbling their sore feet and legs, and peering round at the trees that stood silently about them, rank upon rank, until they faded away into grey twilight in every direction.\n\n\"I suppose you haven't lost us already? \"said Pippin, leaning back against a great tree-trunk.\"We can at least follow the course of this stream, the Entwash or whatever you call it, and get out again the way we came. '\n\n\"We could, if our legs would do it,\" said Merry; \"and if we could breathe properly.\"\n\n\"Yes, it is all very dim, and stuffy, inhere,\" said Pippin. \"It reminds me, somehow, of the old room in the Great Place of the Tooks away back in the Smials at Tuckborough: a huge place, where the furniture has never been moved or changed for generations. They say the Old Took lived in it year after year, while he and the room got older and shabbier together– and it has never been changed since he died, a century ago. And Old Gerontius was my great-great-grandfather: that puts it back a bit. But that is nothing to the old feeling of this wood. Look at all those weeping, trailing, beards and whiskers of lichen! And most of the trees seem to behalf covered with ragged dry leaves that have never fallen. Untidy. I can't imagine what spring would look like here, if it ever comes; still less a spring-cleaning. '" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Support the writer by proceeding with the storyline.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: J.R.R. Tolkien\nTitle: The Two Towers\nChapter: 8" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Will you really break the doors of Isengard?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "asked Merry.\n\n\"Ho, hm, well, we could, you know! You do not know, perhaps, how strong we are. Maybe you have heard of Trolls? They are mighty strong. But Trolls are only counterfeits, made by the Enemy in the Great Darkness, in mockery of Ents, as Orcs were of Elves. We are stronger than Trolls. We are made of the bones of the earth. We can split stone like the roots of trees, only quicker, far quicker, if our minds are roused! If we are not hewn down, or destroyed by fire or blast of sorcery, we could split Isengard into splinters and crack its walls into rubble.\"\n\n\"But Saruman will try to stop you, won't he? '\n\n\"Hm, ah, yes, that is so. I have not forgotten it. Indeed I have thought long about it. But, you see, many of the Ents are younger than I am, by many lives of trees. They are all roused now, and their mind is all on one thing: breaking Isengard. But they will start thinking again before long; they will cool down a little, when we take our evening drink. What athirst we shall have! But let them march now and sing! We have along way to go, and there is time ahead for thought. It is something to have started.\"\n\nTreebeard marched on, singing with the others fora while. But after a time his voice died to a murmur and fell silent again. Pippin could see that his old brow was wrinkled and knotted. At last he looked up, and Pippin could see a sad look in his eyes, sad but not unhappy. There was alight in them, as if the green flame had sunk deeper into the dark wells of his thought." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Of course, it is likely enough, my friends,\" he said slowly, \"likely enough that we are going to our doom: the last march of the Ents. But if we stayed at home and did nothing, doom would find us anyway, sooner or later. That thought has long been growing in our hearts; and that is why we are marching now. It was not a hasty resolve. Now at least the last march of the Ents maybe worth a song. Aye,\" he sighed, \"we may help the other peoples before we pass away. Still, I should have liked to seethe songs come true about the Entwives. I should dearly have liked to see Fimbrethil again. But there, my friends, songs like trees bear fruit only in their own time and their own way: and sometimes they are withered untimely.\"\n\nThe Ents went striding on at a great pace. They had descended into along fold of the land that fell away southward; now they began to climb up, and up, onto the high western ridge. The woods fell away and they came to scattered groups of birch, and then to bare slopes where only a few gaunt pine-trees grew. The sun sank behind the dark hill-back in front. Grey dusk fell.\n\nPippin looked behind. The number of the Ents had grown– or what was happening? Where the dim bare slopes that they had crossed should lie, he thought he saw groves of trees. But they were moving! Could it be that the trees of Fangorn were awake, and the forest was rising, marching over the hills to war? He rubbed his eyes wondering if sleep and shadow had deceived him; but the great grey shapes moved steadily onward. There was a noise like wind in many branches. The Ents were drawing near the crest of the ridge now, and all song had ceased. Night fell, and there was silence: nothing was to be heard save a faint quiver of the earth beneath the feet of the Ents, and a rustle, the shade of a whisper as of many drifting leaves. At last they stood upon the summit, and looked down into a dark pit: the great cleft at the end of the mountains: Nan Curunír, the Valley of Saruman." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Night lies over Isengard,\" said Treebeard." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "THE WHITE RIDER\n\n\"My very bones are chilled,\" said Gimli, flapping his arms and stamping his feet. Day had come at last. At dawn the companions had made such breakfast as they could; now in the growing light they were getting ready to search the ground again for signs of the hobbits.\n\n\"And do not forget that old man!\" said Gimli. \"I should be happier if I could seethe print of a boot.\"\n\n\"Why would that make you happy?\" said Legolas.\n\n\"Because an old man with feet that leave marks might be no more than he seemed,\" answered the Dwarf.\n\n\"Maybe,\" said the Elf; \"but a heavy boot might leave no print here: the grass is deep and springy.\"\n\n\"That would not baffle a Ranger,\" said Gimli. \"A bent blade is enough for Aragorn to read. But I do not expect him to find any traces. It was an evil phantom of Saruman that we saw last night. I am sure of it, even under the light of morning. His eyes are looking out onus from Fangorn even now, maybe.\"\n\n\"It is likely enough,\" said Aragorn; \"yet I am not sure. I am thinking of the horses. You said last night, Gimli, that they were scared away. But I did not think so. Did you hear them, Legolas? Did they sound to you like beasts in terror?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Legolas. \"I heard them clearly. But for the darkness and our own fear I should have guessed that they were beasts wild with some sudden gladness. They spoke as horses will when they meet a friend that they have long missed.\"\n\n\"So I thought,\" said Aragorn; \"but I cannot read the riddle, unless they return. Come! The light is growing fast. Let us look first and guess later! We should begin here, near to our own camping-ground, searching carefully all about, and working up the slope towards the forest. To find the hobbits is our errand, whatever we may think of our visitor in the night. If they escaped by some chance, then they must have hidden in the trees, or they would have been seen. If we find nothing between here and the eaves of the wood, then we will make a last search upon the battle-field and among the ashes. But there is little hope there: the horsemen of Rohan did their work too well.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "For sometime the companions crawled and groped upon the ground. The tree stood mournfully above them, its dry leaves now hanging limp, and rattling in the chill easterly wind. Aragorn moved slowly away. He came to the ashes of the watch-fire near the river-bank, and then began to retrace the ground back towards the knoll where the battle had been fought. Suddenly he stooped and bent low with his face almost in the grass. Then he called to the others. They came running up.\n\n\"Here at last we find news!\" said Aragorn. He lifted up a broken leaf for them to see, a large pale leaf of golden hue, now fading and turning brown. \"Here is a mallorn-leaf of Lórien, and there are small crumbs on it, and a few more crumbs in the grass. And see! there are some pieces of cut cord lying nearby!\"\n\n\"And here is the knife that cut them!\" said Gimli. He stooped and drew out of a tussock, into which some heavy foot had trampled it, a short jagged blade. The haft from which it had been snapped was beside it. \"It was an orc-weapon,\" he said, holding it gingerly, and looking with disgust at the carved handle: it had been shaped like a hideous head with squinting eyes and leering mouth.\n\n\"Well, here is the strangest riddle that we have yet found!\" exclaimed Legolas. \"A bound prisoner escapes both from the Orcs and from the surrounding horsemen. He then stops, while still in the open, and cuts his bonds with an orc-knife. But how and why? For if his legs were tied, how did he walk? And if his arms were tied, how did he use the knife? And if neither were tied, why did he cut the cords at all? Being pleased with his skill, he then sat down and quietly ate some waybread! That at least is enough to show that he was a hobbit, without the mallorn-leaf. After that, I suppose, he turned his arms into wings and flew away singing into the trees. It should be easy to find him: we only need wings ourselves!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There was sorcery here right enough,\" said Gimli. \"What was that old man doing? What have you to say, Aragorn, to the reading of Legolas. Can you better it?\"\n\n\"Maybe, I could,\" said Aragorn, smiling. \"There are some other signs near at hand that you have not considered. I agree that the prisoner was a hobbit and must have had either legs or hands free, before he came here. I guess that it was hands, because the riddle then becomes easier, and also because, as I read the marks, he was carried to this point by an Orc. Blood was spilled there, a few paces away, orc-blood. There are deep prints of hoofs all about this spot, and signs that a heavy thing was dragged away. The Orc was slain by horsemen, and later his body was hauled to the fire. But the hobbit was not seen: he was not\"\"in the open\"\", for it was night and he still had his elven-cloak. He was exhausted and hungry, and it is not to be wondered at that, when he had cut his bonds with the knife of his fallen enemy, he rested and ate a little before he crept away. But it is a comfort to know that he had some lembas in his pocket, even though he ran away without gear or pack; that, perhaps, is like a hobbit. I say he, though I hope and guess that both Merry and Pippin were here together. There is, however, nothing to show that for certain.\"\n\n\"And how do you suppose that either of our friends came to have a hand free?\" asked Gimli.\n\n\"I do not know how it happened,\" answered Aragorn. \"Nor do I know why an Orc was carrying them away. Not to help them to escape, we maybe sure. Nay, rather I think that I now begin to understand a matter that has puzzled me from the beginning: why when Boromir had fallen were the Orcs content with the capture of Merry and Pippin? They did not seek out the rest of us, nor attack our camp; but instead they went with all speed towards Isengard. Did they suppose they had captured the Ring-bearer and his faithful comrade? I think not. Their masters would not dare to give such plain orders to Orcs, even if they knew so much themselves; they would not speak openly to them of the Ring: they are not trusty servants. But I think the Orcs had been commanded to capture hobbits, alive, at all costs. An attempt was made to slip outwith the precious prisoners before the battle. Treachery perhaps, likely enough with such folk; some large and bold Orc may have been trying to escape with the prize alone, for his own ends. There, that is my tale. Others might be devised. But on this we may count in any case: one at least of our friends escaped. It is our task to find him and help him before we return to Rohan. We must not be daunted by Fangorn, since need drove him into that dark place.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I do not know which daunts me more: Fangorn, or the thought of the long road through Rohan on foot,\" said Gimli.\n\n\"Then let us go to the forest,\" said Aragorn.\n\nIt was not long before Aragorn found fresh signs. Atone point, near the bank of the Entwash, he came upon footprints: hobbit-prints, but too light for much to be made of them. Then again beneath the bole of a great tree on the very edge of the wood more prints were discovered. The earth was bare and dry, and did not reveal much.\n\n\"One hobbit at least stood here fora while and looked back; and then he turned away into the forest,\" said Aragorn.\n\n\"Then we must go in, too,\" said Gimli. \"But I do not like the look of this Fangorn; and we were warned against it. I wish the chase had led anywhere else!\"\n\n\"I do not think the wood feels evil, whatever tales may say,\" said Legolas. He stood under the eaves of the forest, stooping forward, as if he were listening, and peering with wide eyes into the shadows. \"No, it is not evil; or what evil is in it is faraway. I catch only the faintest echoes of dark places where the hearts of the trees are black. There is no malice near us; but there is watchfulness, and anger.\"\n\n\"Well, it has no cause to be angry with me,\" said Gimli. \"I have done it no harm.\"\n\n\"That is just as well,\" said Legolas. \"But nonetheless it has suffered harm. There is something happening inside, or going to happen. Do you not feel the tenseness? It takes my breath.\"\n\n\"I feel the air is stuffy,\" said the Dwarf. \"This wood is lighter than Mirkwood, but it is musty and shabby.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It is old, very old,\" said the Elf. \"So old that almost I feel young again, as I have not felt since I journeyed with you children. It is old and full of memory. I could have been happy here, if I had come in days of peace.\"\n\n\"I daresay you could,\" snorted Gimli. \"You area Wood-elf, anyway, though Elves of any kind are strange folk. Yet you comfort me. Where you go, I will go. But keep your bow ready to hand, and I will keep my axe loose in my belt. Not for use on trees,\" he added hastily, looking up at the tree under which they stood. \"I do not wish to meet that old man at unawares without an argument ready to hand, that is all. Let us go!\"\n\nWith that the three hunters plunged into the forest of Fangorn. Legolas and Gimli left the tracking to Aragorn. There was little for him to see. The floor of the forest was dry and covered with adrift of leaves; but guessing that the fugitives would stay near the water, he returned often to the banks of the stream. So it was that he came upon the place where Merry and Pippin had drunk and bathed their feet. There plain for all to see were the footprints of two hobbits, one somewhat smaller than the other.\n\n\"This is good tidings,\" said Aragorn. \"Yet the marks are two days old. And it seems that at this point the hobbits left the water-side.\"\n\n\"Then what shall we do now?\" said Gimli. \"We cannot pursue them through the whole fastness of Fangorn. We have come ill supplied. If we do not find them soon, we shall be of no use to them, except to sit down beside them and show our friendship by starving together.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"If that is indeed all we can do, then we must do that,\" said Aragorn. \"Let us goon.\"\n\nThey came at length to the steep abrupt end of Treebeard's Hill, and looked up at the rock-wall with its rough steps leading to the high shelf. Gleams of sun were striking through the hurrying clouds, and the forest now looked less grey and drear.\n\n\"Let us go up and look about us!\" said Legolas. \"I still feel my breath short. I should like to taste a freer air fora while.\"\n\nThe companions climbed up. Aragorn came last, moving slowly: he was scanning the steps and ledges closely.\n\n\"I am almost sure that the hobbits have been up here,\" he said. \"But there are other marks, very strange marks, which I do not understand. I wonder if we can see anything from this ledge which will help us to guess which way they went next?\"\n\nHe stood up and looked about, but he saw nothing that was of any use. The shelf faced southward and eastward; but only on the east was the view open. There he could seethe heads of the trees descending in ranks towards the plain from which they had come.\n\n\"We have journeyed along way round,\" said Legolas. \"We could have all come here safe together, if we had left the Great River on the second or third day and struck west. Few can foresee whither their road will lead them, till they come to its end.\"\n\n\"But we did not wish to come to Fangorn,\" said Gimli.\n\n\"Yet here we are– and nicely caught in the net,\" said Legolas. \"Look!\"\n\n\"Look at what?\" said Gimli.\n\n\"There in the trees.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Where? I have not elf-eyes.\"\n\n\"Hush! Speak more softly! Look!\" said Legolas pointing. \"Down in the wood, back in the way that we have just come. It is he. Cannot you see him, passing from tree to tree?\"\n\n\"I see, I see now!\" hissed Gimli. \"Look, Aragorn! Did I not warn you? There is the old man. All in dirty grey rags: that is why I could not see him at first.\"\n\nAragorn looked and beheld a bent figure moving slowly. It was not faraway. It looked like an old beggar-man, walking wearily, leaning on a rough staff. His head was bowed, and he did not look towards them. In other lands they would have greeted him with kind words; but now they stood silent, each feeling a strange expectancy: something was approaching that held a hidden power– or menace.\n\nGimli gazed with wide eyes fora while, as step by step the figure drew nearer. Then suddenly, unable to contain himself longer, he burst out: \"Your bow, Legolas! Bend it! Get ready! It is Saruman. Do not let him speak, or put a spell upon us! Shoot first!\"\n\nLegolas took his bow and bent it, slowly and as if some other will resisted him. He held an arrow loosely in his hand but did not fit it to the string. Aragorn stood silent, his face was watchful and intent.\n\n\"Why are you waiting? What is the matter with you?\" said Gimli in a hissing whisper.\n\n\"Legolas is right,\" said Aragorn quietly. \"We may not shoot an old man so, at unawares and unchallenged, whatever fear or doubt be onus. Watch and wait!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "At that moment the old man quickened his pace and came with surprising speed to the foot of the rock-wall." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then suddenly he looked up, while they stood motionless looking down. There was no sound.\n\nThey could not see his face: he was hooded, and above the hood he wore a wide-brimmed hat, so that all his features were overshadowed, except for the end of his nose and his grey beard. Yet it seemed to Aragorn that he caught the gleam of eyes keen and bright from within the shadow of the hooded brows.\n\nAt last the old man broke the silence. \"Well met indeed, my friends,\" he said in a soft voice. \"I wish to speak to you. Will you comedown, or shall I come up?\" Without waiting for an answer he began to climb.\n\n\"Now!\" cried Gimli. \"Stop him, Legolas!\"\n\n\"Did I not say that I wished to speak to you?\" said the old man. \"Put away that bow, Master Elf!\"\n\nThe bow and arrow fell from Legolas' hands, and his arms hung loose at his sides.\n\n\"And you, Master Dwarf, pray take your hand from your axe-haft, till I am up! You will not need such arguments.\"\n\nGimli started and then stood still as stone, staring, while the old man sprang up the rough steps as nimbly as a goat. All weariness seemed to have left him. Ashe stepped upon to the shelf there was agleam, too brief for certainty, a quick glint of white, as if some garment shrouded by the grey rags had been for an instant revealed. The intake of Gimli's breath could be heard as aloud hiss in the silence.\n\n\"Well met, I say again!\" said the old man, coming towards them. When he was a few feet away, he stood, stooping over his staff, with his head thrust forward, peering at them from under his hood. \"And what may you be doing in these parts? An Elf, a Man, and a Dwarf, all clad in Elvish fashion. No doubt there is a tale worth hearing behind it all. Such things are not often seen here.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You speak as one that knows Fangorn well,\" said Aragorn. \"Is that so?\"\n\n\"Not well,\" said the old man: \"that would be the study of many lives. But I come here now and again.\"\n\n\"Might we know your name, and then hear what it is that you have to say to us?\" said Aragorn. \"The morning passes, and we have an errand that will not wait.\"\n\n\"As for what I wished to say, I have said it: What may you be doing, and what tale can you tell of yourselves? As for my name!\" He broke off, laughing long and softly. Aragorn felt a shudder run through him at the sound, a strange cold thrill; and yet it was not fear or terror that he felt: rather it was like the sudden bite of a keen air, or the slap of a cold rain that wakes an uneasy sleeper.\n\n\"My name!\" said the old man again. \"Have you not guessed it already? You have heard it before, I think. Yes, you have heard it before. But come now, what of your tale?\"\n\nThe three companions stood silent and made no answer.\n\n\"There are some who would begin to doubt whether your errand is fit to tell,\" said the old man. \"Happily I know something of it. You are tracking the footsteps of two young hobbits, I believe. Yes, hobbits. Don't stare, as if you had never heard the strange name before. You have, and so have I. Well, they climbed up here the day before yesterday; and they met someone that they did not expect. Does that comfort you? And now you would like to know where they were taken? Well, well, maybe I can give you some news about that. But why are we standing? Your errand, you see, is no longer as urgent as you thought. Let us sit down and be more at ease. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The old man turned away and went towards a heap of fallen stones and rock at the foot of the cliff behind. Immediately, as if a spell had been removed, the others relaxed and stirred. Gimli's hand went at once to his axe-haft. Aragorn drew his sword. Legolas picked up his bow.\n\nThe old man took no notice, but stooped and sat himself on a low flat stone. Then his grey cloak drew apart, and they saw, beyond doubt, that he was clothed beneath all in white.\n\n\"Saruman!\" cried Gimli, springing towards him with axe in hand. \"Speak! Tell us where you have hidden our friends! What have you done with them? Speak, or I will make a dint in your hat that even a wizard will find it hard to deal with!\"\n\nThe old man was too quick for him. He sprang to his feet and leaped to the top of a large rock. There he stood, grown suddenly tall, towering above them. His hood and his grey rags were flung away. His white garments shone. He lifted up his staff, and Gimli's axe leaped from his grasp and fell ringing on the ground. The sword of Aragorn, stiff in his motionless hand, blazed with a sudden fire. Legolas gave a great shout and shot an arrow high into the air: it vanished in a flash of flame.\n\n\"Mithrandir!\" he cried. \"Mithrandir!\"\n\n\"Well met, I say to you again, Legolas!\" said the old man. They all gazed at him. His hair was white as snow in the sunshine; and gleaming white was his robe; the eyes under his deep brows were bright, piercing as the rays of the sun; power was in his hand. Between wonder, joy, and fear they stood and found no words to say." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At last Aragorn stirred. \"Gandalf!\" he said. \"Beyond all hope you return to us in our need! What veil was over my sight? Gandalf!\" Gimli said nothing, but sank to his knees, shading his eyes.\n\n\"Gandalf,\" the old man repeated, as if recalling from old memory along disused word. \"Yes, that was the name. I was Gandalf.\"\n\nHe stepped down from the rock, and picking up his grey cloak wrapped it about him: it seemed as if the sun had been shining, but now was hid in cloud again. \"Yes, you may still call me Gandalf,\" he said, and the voice was the voice of their old friend and guide. \"Get up, my good Gimli! No blame to you, and no harm done tome. Indeed my friends, none of you have any weapon that could hurt me. Be merry! We meet again. At the turn of the tide. The great storm is coming, but the tide has turned.\"\n\nHe laid his hand on Gimli's head, and the Dwarf looked up and laughed suddenly.\"Gandalf! \"he said.\"But you are all in white! '\n\n\"Yes, I am white now,\" said Gandalf. \"Indeed I am Saruman, one might almost say, Saruman as he should have been. But come now, tell me of yourselves! I have passed through fire and deep water, since we parted. I have forgotten much that I thought I knew, and learned again much that I had forgotten. I can see many things far off, but many things that are close at hand I cannot see. Tell me of yourselves!\"\n\n\"What do you wish to know?\" said Aragorn. \"All that has happened since we parted on the bridge would be along tale. Will you not first give us news of the hobbits? Did you find them, and are they safe?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No, I did not find them,\" said Gandalf. \"There was a darkness over the valleys of the Emyn Muil, and I did not know of their captivity, until the eagle told me.\"\n\n\"The eagle!\" said Legolas. \"I have seen an eagle high and far off: the last time was four days ago, above the Emyn Muil.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Gandalf, \"that was Gwaihir the Windlord, who rescued me from Orthanc. I sent him before me to watch the River and gather tidings. His sight is keen, but he cannot see all that passes under hill and tree. Somethings he has seen, and others I have seen myself. The Ring now has passed beyond my help, or the help of any of the Company that set out from Rivendell. Very nearly it was revealed to the Enemy, but it escaped. I had some part in that: for I satin a high place, and I strove with the Dark Tower; and the Shadow passed. Then I was weary, very weary; and I walked long in dark thought.\"\n\n\"Then you know about Frodo!\" said Gimli. \"How do things go with him?\"\n\n\"I cannot say. He was saved from a great peril, but many lie before him still. He resolved to go alone to Mordor, and he set out: that is all that I can say.\"\n\n\"Not alone,\" said Legolas. \"We think that Sam went with him.\"\n\n\"Did he!\" said Gandalf, and there was agleam in his eye and a smile on his face. \"Did he indeed? It is news tome, yet it does not surprise me. Good! Very good! You lighten my heart. You must tell me more. Now sit by me and tell me the tale of your journey.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The companions sat on the ground at his feet, and Aragorn took up the tale. Fora long while Gandalf said nothing, and he asked no questions. His hands were spread upon his knees, and his eyes were closed. At last when Aragorn spoke of the death of Boromir and of his last journey upon the Great River, the old man sighed.\n\n\"You have not said all that you know or guess, Aragorn my friend,\" he said quietly. \"Poor Boromir! I could not see what happened to him. It was a sore trial for such a man: a warrior, and a lord of men. Galadriel told me that he was in peril. But he escaped in the end. I am glad. It was not in vain that the young hobbits came with us, if only for Boromir's sake. But that is not the only part they have to play. They were brought to Fangorn, and their coming was like the falling of small stones that starts an avalanche in the mountains. Even as we talk here, I hear the first rumblings. Saruman had best not be caught away from home when the dam bursts! '\n\n\"In one thing you have not changed, dear friend,\" said Aragorn: \"you still speak in riddles.\"\n\n\"What? In riddles?\" said Gandalf. \"No! For I was talking aloud to myself. A habit of the old: they choose the wisest person present to speak to; the long explanations needed by the young are wearying.\" He laughed, but the sound now seemed warm and kindly as agleam of sunshine.\n\n\"I am no longer young even in the reckoning of Men of the Ancient Houses,\" said Aragorn. \"Will you not open your mind more clearly tome?\"\n\n\"What then shall I say?\" said Gandalf, and paused fora while in thought. 'This in brief is how I see things at the moment, if you wish to have apiece of my mind as plain as possible. The Enemy, of course, has long known that the Ring is abroad, and that it is borne by a hobbit. He knows now the number of our Company that set out from Rivendell, and the kind of each of us. But he does not yet perceive our purpose clearly. He supposes that we were all going to Minas Tirith; for that is what he would himself have done in our place. And according to his wisdom it would have been a heavy stroke against his power. Indeed he is in great fear, not knowing what mighty one may suddenly appear, wielding the Ring, and assailing him with war, seeking to cast him down and take his place. That we should wish to cast him down and have no one in his place is not a thought that occurs to his mind. That we should try to destroy the Ring itself has not yet entered into his darkest dream. In which no doubt you will see our good fortune and our hope. For imagining war he has let loose war, believing that he has no time to waste; for he that strikes the first blow, if he strikes it hard enough, may need to strike no more. So the forces that he has long been preparing he is now setting in motion, sooner than he intended. Wise fool. For if he had used all his power to guard Mordor, so that none could enter, and bent all his guile to the hunting of the Ring, then indeed hope would have faded: neither Ring nor bearer could long have eluded him. But now his eye gazes abroad rather than near at home; and mostly he looks towards Minas Tirith. Very soon now his strength will fall upon it like a storm." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"For already he knows that the messengers that he sent to waylay the Company have failed again." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They have not found the Ring. Neither have they brought away any hobbits as hostages. Had they done even so much as that, it would have been a heavy blow to us, and it might have been fatal. But let us not darken our hearts by imagining the trial of their gentle loyalty in the Dark Tower. For the Enemy has failed– so far. Thanks to Saruman.\"\n\n\"Then is not Saruman a traitor?\" said Gimli.\n\n\"Indeed yes,\" said Gandalf. 'Doubly. And is not that strange? Nothing that we have endured of late has seemed so grievous as the treason of Isengard. Even reckoned as a lord and captain Saruman has grown very strong. He threatens the Men of Rohan and draws off their help from Minas Tirith, even as the main blow is approaching from the East. Yet a treacherous weapon is ever a danger to the hand. Saruman also had a mind to capture the Ring, for himself, or at least to snare some hobbits for his evil purposes. So between them our enemies have contrived only to bring Merry and Pippin with marvellous speed, and in the nick of time, to Fangorn, where otherwise they would never have come at all!\n\n\"Also they have filled themselves with new doubts that disturb their plans. No tidings of the battle will come to Mordor, thanks to the horsemen of Rohan; but the Dark Lord knows that two hobbits were taken in the Emyn Muil and borne away towards Isengard against the will of his own servants. He now has Isengard to fear as well as Minas Tirith. If Minas Tirith falls, it will go ill with Saruman.\"\n\n\"It is a pity that our friends lie in between,\" said Gimli. \"If no land divided Isengard and Mordor, then they could fight while we watched and waited.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The victor would emerge stronger than either, and free from doubt,\" said Gandalf. \"But Isengard cannot fight Mordor, unless Saruman first obtains the Ring. That he will never do now. He does not yet know his peril. There is much that he does not know. He was so eager to lay his hands on his prey that he could not wait at home, and he came forth to meet and to spy on his messengers. But he came too late, for once, and the battle was over and beyond his help before he reached these parts. He did not remain here long. I look into his mind and I see his doubt. He has no woodcraft. He believes that the horsemen slew and burned all upon the field of battle; but he does not know whether the Orcs were bringing any prisoners or not. And he does not know of the quarrel between his servants and the Orcs of Mordor; nor does he know of the Winged Messenger.\"\n\n\"The Winged Messenger!\" cried Legolas. \"I shot at him with the bow of Galadriel above Sarn Gebir, and I felled him from the sky. He filled us all with fear. What new terror is this?\"\n\n\"One that you cannot slay with arrows,\" said Gandalf. \"You only slew his steed. It was a good deed; but the Rider was soon horsed again. For he was a Nazgûl, one of the Nine, who ride now upon winged steeds. Soon their terror will overshadow the last armies of our friends, cutting off the sun. But they have not yet been allowed to cross the River, and Saruman does not know of this new shape in which the Ringwraiths have been clad. His thought is ever on the Ring. Was it present in the battle? Was it found? What if Théoden, Lord of the Mark, should come by it and learn of its power? That is the danger that he sees, and he has fled back to Isengard to double and treble his assault on Rohan. And all the time there is another danger, close at hand, which he does not see, busy with his fiery thoughts. He has forgotten Treebeard.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Now you speak to yourself again,\" said Aragorn with a smile. \"Treebeard is not known tome. And I have guessed part of Saruman's double treachery; yet I do not see in what way the coming of two hobbits to Fangorn has served, save to give us along and fruitless chase. '\n\n\"Wait a minute!\" cried Gimli. \"There is another thing that I should like to know first. Was it you, Gandalf, or Saruman that we saw last night?\"\n\n\"You certainly did not see me,\" answered Gandalf, \"therefore I must guess that you saw Saruman. Evidently we look so much alike that your desire to make an incurable dentin my hat must be excused.\"\n\n\"Good, good!\" said Gimli. \"I am glad that it was not you.\" Gandalf laughed again. \"Yes, my good Dwarf,\" he said, \"it is a comfort not to be mistaken at all points. Do I not know it only too well! But, of course, I never blamed you for your welcome of me. How could I do so, who have so often counselled my friends to suspect even their own hands when dealing with the Enemy. Bless you, Gimli, son of Glóin! Maybe you will see us both together one day and judge between us!\"\n\n\"But the hobbits!\" Legolas broke in. \"We have come far to seek them, and you seem to know where they are. Where are they now?\"\n\n\"With Treebeard and the Ents,\" said Gandalf.\n\n\"The Ents!\" exclaimed Aragorn. 'Then there is truth in the old legends about the dwellers in the deep forests and the giant shepherds of the trees? Are there still Ents in the world?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I thought they were only a memory of ancient days, if indeed they were evermore than a legend of Rohan. '\n\n\"A legend of Rohan!\" cried Legolas. \"Nay, every Elfin Wilderland has sung songs of the old Onodrim and their long sorrow. Yet even among us they are only a memory. If I were to meet one still walking in this world, then indeed I should feel young again! But Treebeard: that is only a rendering of Fangorn into the Common Speech; yet you seem to speak of a person. Who is this Treebeard?\"\n\n\"Ah! now you are asking much,\" said Gandalf. \"The little that I know of his long slow story would make a tale for which we have no time now. Treebeard is Fangorn, the guardian of the forest; he is the oldest of the Ents, the oldest living thing that still walks beneath the Sun upon this Middle-earth. I hope indeed, Legolas, that you may yet meet him. Merry and Pippin have been fortunate: they met him here, even where we sit. For he came here two days ago and bore them away to his dwelling far off by the roots of the mountains. He often comes here, especially when his mind is uneasy, and rumours of the world outside trouble him. I saw him four days ago striding among the trees, and I think he saw me, for he paused; but I did not speak, for I was heavy with thought, and weary after my struggle with the Eye of Mordor; and he did not speak either, nor call my name.\"\n\n\"Perhaps he also thought that you were Saruman,\" said Gimli. \"But you speak of him as if he was a friend. I thought Fangorn was dangerous.\"\n\n\"Dangerous!\" cried Gandalf. \"And so am I, very dangerous: more dangerous than anything you will ever meet, unless you are brought alive before the seat of the Dark Lord. And Aragorn is dangerous, and Legolas is dangerous. You are beset with dangers, Gimli son of Glóin; for you are dangerous yourself, in your own fashion. Certainly the forest of Fangorn is perilous– not least to those that are too ready with their axes; and Fangorn himself, he is perilous too; yet he is wise and kindly nonetheless. But now his long slow wrath is brimming over, and all the forest is filled with it. The coming of the hobbits and the tidings that they brought have spilled it: it will soon be running like a flood; but its tide is turned against Saruman and the axes of Isengard. A thing is about to happen which has not happened since the Elder Days: the Ents are going to wake up and find that they are strong.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What will they do?\" asked Legolas in astonishment. \"I do not know,\" said Gandalf. \"I do not think they know themselves. I wonder.\" He fell silent, his head bowed in thought.\n\nThe others looked at him. Agleam of sun through fleeting clouds fell on his hands, which lay now upturned on his lap: they seemed to be filled with light as a cup is with water. At last he looked up and gazed straight at the sun.\n\n\"The morning is wearing away,\" he said. \"Soon we must go.\"\n\n\"Do we go to find our friends and to see Treebeard?\" asked Aragorn.\n\n\"No,\" said Gandalf. \"That is not the road that you must take. I have spoken words of hope. But only of hope. Hope is not victory. War is upon us and all our friends, a war in which only the use of the Ring could give us surety of victory. It fills me with great sorrow and great fear: for much shall be destroyed and all maybe lost. I am Gandalf, Gandalf the White, but Black is mightier still.\"\n\nHe rose and gazed out eastward, shading his eyes, as if he saw things faraway that none of them could see. Then he shook his head. \"No,\" he said in a soft voice, \"it has gone beyond our reach. Of that at least let us be glad. We can no longer be tempted to use the Ring. We must go down to face a peril near despair, yet that deadly peril is removed.\"\n\nHe turned. \"Come, Aragorn son of Arathorn!\" he said. \"Do not regret your choice in the valley of the Emyn Muil, nor call it a vain pursuit. You chose amid doubts the path that seemed right: the choice was just, and it has been rewarded. For so we have met in time, who otherwise might have met too late. But the quest of your companions is over. Your next journey is marked by your given word. You must go to Edoras and seek out Théoden in his hall. For you are needed. The light of Andúril must now be uncovered in the battle for which it has so long waited. There is war in Rohan, and worse evil: it goes ill with Théoden.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Then are we not to seethe merry young hobbits again?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "said Legolas.\n\n\"I did not say so,\" said Gandalf. \"Who knows? Have patience. Go where you must go, and hope! To Edoras! I go thither also.\"\n\n\"It is along way fora man to walk, young or old,\" said Aragorn. \"I fear the battle will be overlong ere I come there.\"\n\n\"We shall see, we shall see,\" said Gandalf. \"Will you come now with me?\"\n\n\"Yes, we will set out together,\" said Aragorn. \"But I do not doubt that you will come there before me, if you wish.\" He rose and looked long at Gandalf. The others gazed at them in silence as they stood there facing one another. The grey figure of the Man, Aragorn son of Arathorn, was tall, and stern as stone, his hand upon the hilt of his sword; he looked as if some king out of the mists of the sea had stepped upon the shores of lesser men. Before him stooped the old figure, white, shining now as if with some light kindled within, bent, laden with years, but holding a power beyond the strength of kings.\n\n\"Do I not say truly, Gandalf,\" said Aragorn at last, \"that you could go whithersoever you wished quicker than I? And this I also say: you are our captain and our banner. The Dark Lord has Nine. But we have One, mightier than they: the White Rider. He has passed through the fire and the abyss, and they shall fear him. We will go where he leads.\"\n\n\"Yes, together we will follow you,\" said Legolas. \"But first, it would ease my heart, Gandalf, to hear what befell you in Moria. Will you not tell us? Can you not stay even to tell your friends how you were delivered?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I have stayed already too long,\" answered Gandalf. \"Time is short. But if there were a year to spend, I would not tell you all.\"\n\n\"Then tell us what you will, and time allows!\" said Gimli. \"Come, Gandalf, tell us how you fared with the Balrog!\"\n\n\"Name him not!\" said Gandalf, and fora moment it seemed that a cloud of pain passed over his face, and he sat silent, looking old as death. \"Long time I fell,\" he said at last, slowly, as if thinking back with difficulty. \"Long I fell, and he fell with me. His fire was about me. I was burned. Then we plunged into the deep water and all was dark. Cold it was as the tide of death: almost it froze my heart.\"\n\n\"Deep is the abyss that is spanned by Durin's Bridge, and none has measured it, ' said Gimli.\n\n\"Yet it has a bottom, beyond light and knowledge,\" said Gandalf. 'Thither I came at last, to the uttermost foundations of stone. He was with me still. His fire was quenched, but now he was a thing of slime, stronger than a strangling snake.\n\n\"We fought far under the living earth, where time is not counted. Ever he clutched me, and ever I hewed him, till at last he fled into dark tunnels. They were not made by Durin's folk, Gimli son of Glóin. Far, far below the deepest delvings of the Dwarves, the world is gnawed by nameless things. Even Sauron knows them not. They are older than he. Now I have walked there, but I will bring no report to darken the light of day. In that despair my enemy was my only hope, and I pursued him, clutching at his heel. Thus he brought me back at last to the secret ways of Khazad-dûm: too well he knew them all. Ever up now we went, until we came to the Endless Stair. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Long has that been lost,\" said Gimli." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Many have said that it was never made save in legend, but others say that it was destroyed.\"\n\n\"It was made, and it had not been destroyed,\" said Gandalf. \"From the lowest dungeon to the highest peak it climbed, ascending in unbroken spiral in many thousand steps, until it issued at last in Durin's Tower carved in the living rock of Zirakzigil, the pinnacle of the Silvertine.\n\n\"There upon Celebdil was a lonely window in the snow, and before it lay a narrow space, a dizzy eyrie above the mists of the world. The sun shone fiercely there, but all below was wrapped in cloud. Out he sprang, and even as I came behind, he burst into new flame. There was none to see, or perhaps in after ages songs would still be sung of the Battle of the Peak.\" Suddenly Gandalf laughed. 'But what would they say in song? Those that looked up from afar thought that the mountain was crowned with storm. Thunder they heard, and lightning, they said, smote upon Celebdil, and leaped back broken into tongues of fire. Is not that enough? A great smoke rose about us, vapour and steam. Ice fell like rain. I threw down my enemy, and he fell from the high place and broke the mountain-side where he smote it in his ruin. Then darkness took me, and I strayed out of thought and time, and I wandered far on roads that I will not tell.\n\n'Naked I was sent back– fora brief time, until my task is done. And naked I lay upon the mountain-top. The tower behind was crumbled into dust, the window gone; the ruined stair was choked with burned and broken stone. I was alone, forgotten, without escape upon the hard horn of the world. There I lay staring upward, while the stars wheeled over, and each day was as long as a life-age of the earth. Faint to my ears came the gathered rumour of all lands: the springing and the dying, the song and the weeping, and the slow everlasting groan of over-burdened stone. And so at the last Gwaihir the Windlord found me again, and he took me up and bore me away." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"\"\"Ever am I fated to be your burden, friend at need,\"' I said.\n\n\"\"\"A burden you have been,\"\"he answered,\"\"but not so now. Light as a swan's feather in my claw you are. The Sun shines through you. Indeed I do not think you need meany more: were Ito let you fall, you would float upon the wind. \"\"\n\n\"\"\"Do not let me fall!\"\"I gasped, for I felt life in me again.\"\"Bear me to Lothlórien!\"'\n\n\"\"\"That indeed is the command of the Lady Galadriel who sent me to look for you,\"' he answered.\n\n'Thus it was that I came to Caras Galadhon and found you but lately gone. I tarried therein the ageless time of that land where days bring healing not decay. Healing I found, and I was clothed in white. Counsel I gave and counsel took. Thence by strange roads I came, and messages I bring to some of you. To Aragorn I was bidden to say this:\n\nTo Legolas she sent this word:\n\nGandalf fell silent and shut his eyes.\n\n\"Then she sent me no message?\" said Gimli and bent his head.\n\n\"Dark are her words,\" said Legolas, \"and little do they mean to those that receive them.\"\n\n\"That is no comfort,\" said Gimli.\n\n\"What then?\" said Legolas. \"Would you have her speak openly to you of your death?\"\n\n\"Yes, if she had naught else to say.\"\n\n\"What is that?\" said Gandalf, opening his eyes. 'Yes, I think I can guess what her words may mean. Your pardon, Gimli! I was pondering the messages once again. But indeed she sent words to you, and neither dark nor sad." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"\"\"To Gimli son of Glóin,\"\"she said,\"\"give his Lady's greeting.\n\nLockbearer, wherever thou goest my thought goes with thee. But have a care to lay thine axe to the right tree! \"\" '\n\n\"In happy hour you have returned to us, Gandalf,\" cried the Dwarf, capering as he sang loudly in the strange dwarf-tongue. \"Come, come!\" he shouted, swinging his axe. \"Since Gandalf's head is now sacred, let us find one that it is right to cleave! '\n\n\"That will not be far to seek,\" said Gandalf, rising from his seat. \"Come! We have spent all the time that is allowed to a meeting of parted friends. Now there is need of haste.\"\n\nHe wrapped himself again in his old tattered cloak, and led the way. Following him they descended quickly from the high shelf and made their way back through the forest, down the bank of the Entwash. They spoke no more words, until they stood again upon the grass beyond the eaves of Fangorn. There was no sign of their horses to be seen.\n\n\"They have not returned,\" said Legolas. \"It will be a weary walk!\"\n\n\"I shall not walk. Time presses,\" said Gandalf. Then lifting up his head he gave along whistle. So clear and piercing was the note that the others stood amazed to hear such a sound come from those old bearded lips. Three times he whistled; and then faint and far off it seemed to them that they heard the whinny of a horse borne up from the plains upon the eastern wind. They waited wondering. Before long there came the sound of hoofs, at first hardly more than a tremor of the ground perceptible only to Aragorn as he lay upon the grass, then growing steadily louder and clearer to a quick beat." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"There is more than one horse coming,\" said Aragorn." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Certainly,\" said Gandalf. \"We are too great a burden for one.\"\n\n\"There are three,\" said Legolas, gazing out over the plain. \"See how they run! There is Hasufel, and there is my friend Arod beside him! But there is another that strides ahead: a very great horse. I have not seen his like before.\"\n\n\"Nor will you again,\" said Gandalf. \"That is Shadowfax. He is the chief of the Mearas, lords of horses, and not even Théoden, King of Rohan, has ever looked on a better. Does he not shine like silver, and run as smoothly as a swift stream? He has come for me: the horse of the White Rider. We are going to battle together.\"\n\nEven as the old wizard spoke, the great horse came striding up the slope towards them; his coat was glistening and his mane flowing in the wind of his speed. The two others followed, now far behind. As soon as Shadowfax saw Gandalf, he checked his pace and whinnied loudly; then trotting gently forward he stooped his proud head and nuzzled his great nostrils against the old man's neck.\n\nGandalf caressed him. \"It is along way from Rivendell, my friend,\" he said; \"but you are wise and swift and come at need. Far let us ride now together, and part not in this world again!\"\n\nSoon the other horses came up and stood quietly by, as if awaiting orders. \"We goat once to Meduseld, the hall of your master, Théoden,\" said Gandalf, addressing them gravely. They bowed their heads. \"Time presses, so with your leave, my friends, we will ride. We beg you to use all the speed that you can. Hasufel shall bear Aragorn and Arod Legolas. I will set Gimli before me, and by his leave Shadowfax shall bear us both. We will wait now only to drink a little.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Now I understand apart of last night's riddle, \"said Legolas as he sprang lightly upon Arod's back. \"Whether they fled at first in fear, or not, our horses met Shadowfax, their chieftain, and greeted him with joy. Did you know that he was at hand, Gandalf?\"\n\n\"Yes, I knew,\" said the wizard. \"I bent my thought upon him, bidding him to make haste; for yesterday he was faraway in the south of this land. Swiftly may he bear me back again!\"\n\nGandalf spoke now to Shadowfax, and the horse set off at a good pace, yet not beyond the measure of the others. After a little while he turned suddenly, and choosing a place where the banks were lower, he waded the river, and then led them away due south into a flatland, treeless and wide. The wind went like grey waves through the endless miles of grass. There was no sign of road or track, but Shadowfax did not stay or falter.\n\n\"He is steering a straight course now for the halls of Théoden under the slopes of the White Mountains,\" said Gandalf. \"It will be quicker so. The ground is firmer in the Eastemnet, where the chief northward track lies, across the river, but Shadowfax knows the way through every fen and hollow.\"\n\nFor many hours they rode on through the meads and riverlands. Often the grass was so high that it reached above the knees of the riders, and their steeds seemed to be swimming in a grey-green sea. They came upon many hidden pools, and broad acres of sedge waving above wet and treacherous bogs; but Shadowfax found the way, and the other horses followed in his swath. Slowly the sun fell from the sky down into the West. Looking out over the great plain, faraway the riders saw it fora moment like a red fire sinking into the grass. Low upon the edge of sight shoulders of the mountains glinted red upon either side. A smoke seemed to rise up and darken the sun's disc to the hue of blood, as if it had kindled the grass as it passed down under the rim of earth." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There lies the Gap of Rohan,\" said Gandalf. \"It is now almost due west of us. That way lies Isengard.\"\n\n\"I see a great smoke,\" said Legolas. \"What may that be?\"\n\n\"Battle and war!\" said Gandalf. \"Ride on!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "THE KING OF THE GOLDEN HALL\n\nThey rode on through sunset, and slow dusk, and gathering night. When at last they halted and dismounted, even Aragorn was stiff and weary. Gandalf only allowed them a few hours' rest. Legolas and Gimli slept, and Aragorn lay flat, stretched upon his back; but Gandalf stood, leaning on his staff, gazing into the darkness, east and west. All was silent, and there was no signor sound of living thing. The night was barred with long clouds, fleeting on a chill wind, when they arose again. Under the cold moon they went on once more, as swift as by the light of day.\n\nHours passed and still they rode on. Gimli nodded and would have fallen from his seat, if Gandalf had not clutched and shaken him. Hasufel and Arod, weary but proud, followed their tireless leader, a grey shadow before them hardly to be seen. The miles went by. The waxing moon sank into the cloudy West.\n\nA bitter chill came into the air. Slowly in the East the dark faded to a cold grey. Red shafts of light leapt above the black walls of the Emyn Muil faraway upon their left. Dawn came clear and bright; a windswept across their path, rushing through the bent grasses. Suddenly Shadowfax stood still and neighed. Gandalf pointed ahead.\n\n\"Look!\" he cried, and they lifted their tired eyes. Before them stood the mountains of the South: white-tipped and streaked with black. The grass-lands rolled against the hills that clustered at their feet, and flowed up into many valleys still dim and dark, untouched by the light of dawn, winding their way into the heart of the great mountains. Immediately before the travellers the widest of these glens opened like along gulf among the hills. Far inward they glimpsed a tumbled mountain-mass with one tall peak; at the mouth of the vale there stood like a sentinel a lonely height. About its feet there flowed, as a thread of silver, the stream that issued from the dale; upon its brow they caught, still faraway, a glint in the rising sun, a glimmer of gold." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Speak, Legolas!\" said Gandalf. \"Tell us what you see there before us!\"\n\nLegolas gazed ahead, shading his eyes from the level shafts of the new-risen sun. \"I see a white stream that comes down from the snows,\" he said. \"Where it issues from the shadow of the vale a green hill rises upon the east. A dike and mighty wall and thorny fence encircle it. Within there rise the roofs of houses; and in the midst, set upon a green terrace, there stands aloft a great hall of Men. And it seems to my eyes that it is thatched with gold. The light of it shines far over the land. Golden, too, are the posts of its doors. There men in bright mail stand; but all else within the courts are yet asleep.\"\n\n\"Edoras those courts are called,\" said Gandalf, \"and Meduseld is that golden hall. There dwells Théoden son of Thengel, King of the Mark of Rohan. We are come with the rising of the day. Now the road lies plain to see before us. But we must ride more warily; for war is abroad, and the Rohirrim, the Horse-lords, do not sleep, even if it seem so from afar. Draw no weapon, speak no haughty word, I counsel you all, until we are come before Théoden's seat. '\n\nThe morning was bright and clear about them, and birds were singing, when the travellers came to the stream. It ran down swiftly into the plain, and beyond the feet of the hills turned across their path in a wide bend, flowing away east to feed the Entwash far off in its reed-choked beds. The land was green: in the wet meads and along the grassy borders of the stream grew many willow-trees. Already in this southern land they were blushing red at their fingertips, feeling the approach of spring. Over the stream there was a ford between low banks much trampled by the passage of horses. The travellers passed over and came upon a wide rutted track leading towards the uplands." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At the foot of the walled hill the way ran under the shadow of many mounds, high and green. Upon their western sides the grass was white as with a drifted snow: small flowers sprang there like countless stars amid the turf.\n\n\"Look!\" said Gandalf. \"How fair are the bright eyes in the grass! Evermind they are called, simbelmynë in this land of Men, for they blossom in all the seasons of the year, and grow where dead men rest. Behold! we are come to the great barrows where the sires of Théoden sleep.\"\n\n\"Seven mounds upon the left, and nine upon the right,\" said Aragorn. \"Many long lives of men it is since the golden hall was built.\"\n\n\"Five hundred times have the red leaves fallen in Mirkwood in my home since then,\" said Legolas, \"and but a little while does that seem to us.\"\n\n\"But to the Riders of the Mark it seems so long ago,\" said Aragorn, \"that the raising of this house is but a memory of song, and the years before are lost in the mist of time. Now they call this land their home, their own, and their speech is sundered from their northern kin.\" Then he began to chant softly in a slow tongue unknown to the Elf and Dwarf; yet they listened, for there was a strong music in it.\n\n\"That, I guess, is the language of the Rohirrim,\" said Legolas; \"for it is like to this land itself; rich and rolling in part, and else hard and stern as the mountains. But I cannot guess what it means, save that it is laden with the sadness of Mortal Men.\"\n\n\"It runs thus in the Common Speech,\" said Aragorn, 'as near as I can make it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Thus spoke a forgotten poet long ago in Rohan, recalling how tall and fair was Eorl the Young, who rode down out of the North; and there were wings upon the feet of his steed, Felaróf, father of horses." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "So men still sing in the evening. '\n\nWith these words the travellers passed the silent mounds. Following the winding way up the green shoulders of the hills, they came at last to the wide wind-swept walls and the gates of Edoras.\n\nThere sat many men in bright mail, who sprang at once to their feet and barred the way with spears. \"Stay, strangers here unknown!\" they cried in the tongue of the Riddermark, demanding the names and errand of the strangers. Wonder was in their eyes but little friendliness; and they looked darkly upon Gandalf.\n\n\"Well do I understand your speech,\" he answered in the same language; \"yet few strangers do so. Why then do you not speak in the Common Tongue, as is the custom in the West, if you wish to be answered?\"\n\n\"It is the will of Théoden King that none should enter his gates, save those who know our tongue and are our friends,\" replied one of the guards. \"None are welcome herein days of war but our own folk, and those that come from Mundburg in the land of Gondor. Who are you that come heedless over the plain thus strangely clad, riding horses like to our own horses? Long have we kept guard here, and we have watched you from afar. Never have we seen other riders so strange, nor any horse more proud than is one of these that bear you. He is one of the Mearas, unless our eyes are cheated by some spell. Say, are you not a wizard, some spy from Saruman, or phantoms of his craft? Speak now and be swift!\"\n\n\"We are no phantoms,\" said Aragorn, \"nor do your eyes cheat you. For indeed these are your own horses that we ride, as you knew well ere you asked, I guess. But seldom does thief ride home to the stable. Here are Hasufel and Arod, that Éomer, the Third Marshal of the Mark, lent to us, only two days ago. We bring them back now, even as we promised him. Has not Éomer then returned and given warning of our coming?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A troubled look came into the guard's eyes.\"Of Éomer I have naught to say, \"he answered.\"If what you tell me is truth, then doubtless Théoden will have heard of it. Maybe your coming was not wholly unlooked-for. It is but two nights ago that Wormtongue came to us and said that by the will of Théoden no stranger should pass these gates. '\n\n\"Wormtongue?\" said Gandalf, looking sharply at the guard. \"Say no more! My errand is not to Wormtongue, but to the Lord of the Mark himself. I am in haste. Will you not go or send to say that we are come?\" His eyes glinted under his deep brows as he bent his gaze upon the man.\n\n\"Yes, I will go,\" he answered slowly. \"But what names shall I report? And what shall I say of you? Old and weary you seem now, and yet you are fell and grim beneath, I deem.\"\n\n\"Well do you see and speak,\" said the wizard. \"For I am Gandalf. I have returned. And behold! I too bring back a horse. Here is Shadowfax the Great, whom no other hand can tame. And here beside me is Aragorn son of Arathorn, the heir of Kings, and it is to Mundburg that he goes. Here also are Legolas the Elf and Gimli the Dwarf, our comrades. Go now and say to your master that we are at his gates and would have speech with him, if he will permit us to come into his hall.\"\n\n\"Strange names you give indeed! But I will report them as you bid, and learn my master's will, \"said the guard.\"Wait here a little while, and I will bring you such answer as seems good to him. Do not hope too much! These are dark days. ' He went swiftly away, leaving the strangers in the watchful keeping of his comrades." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After sometime he returned. \"Follow me!\" he said. \"Théoden gives you leave to enter; but any weapon that you bear, be it only a staff, you must leave on the threshold. The doorwardens will keep them.\"\n\nThe dark gates were swung open. The travellers entered, walking in file behind their guide. They found abroad path, paved with hewn stones, now winding upward, now climbing in short flights of well-laid steps. Many houses built of wood and many dark doors they passed. Beside the way in a stone channel a stream of clear water flowed, sparkling and chattering. At length they came to the crown of the hill. There stood a high platform above a green terrace, at the foot of which a bright spring gushed from a stone carved in the likeness of a horse's head; beneath was a wide basin from which the water spilled and fed the falling stream. Up the green terrace went a stair of stone, high and broad, and on either side of the topmost step were stone-hewn seats. There sat other guards, withdrawn swords laid upon their knees. Their golden hair was braided on their shoulders; the sun was blazoned upon their green shields, their long corslets were burnished bright, and when they rose taller they seemed than mortal men.\n\n\"There are the doors before you,\" said the guide. \"I must return now to my duty at the gate. Farewell! And may the Lord of the Mark be gracious to you!\"\n\nHe turned and went swiftly back down the road. The others climbed the long stair under the eyes of the tall watchmen. Silent they stood now above and spoke no word, until Gandalf stepped out upon the paved terrace at the stair's head. Then suddenly with clear voices they spoke a courteous greeting in their own tongue.\n\n\"Hail, comers from afar!\" they said, and they turned the hilts of their swords towards the travellers in token of peace. Green gems flashed in the sunlight. Then one of the guards stepped forward and spoke in the Common Speech." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I am the Doorward of Théoden,\" he said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Háma is my name. Here I must bid you lay aside your weapons before you enter.\"\n\nThen Legolas gave into his hand his silver-hafted knife, his quiver, and his bow. \"Keep these well,\" he said, \"for they come from the Golden Wood and the Lady of Lothlórien gave them tome.\"\n\nWonder came into the man's eyes, and he laid the weapons hastily by the wall, as if he feared to handle them.\"No man will touch them, I promise you, ' he said.\n\nAragorn stood awhile hesitating. \"It is not my will,\" he said, \"to put aside my sword or to deliver Andúril to the hand of any other man.\"\n\n\"It is the will of Théoden,\" said Háma.\n\n\"It is not clear tome that the will of Théoden son of Thengel, even though he be lord of the Mark, should prevail over the will of Aragorn son of Arathorn, Elendil's heir of Gondor. '\n\n\"This is the house of Théoden, not of Aragorn, even were he King of Gondor in the seat of Denethor,\" said Háma, stepping swiftly before the doors and barring the way. His sword was now in his hand and the point towards the strangers.\n\n\"This is idle talk,\" said Gandalf. \"Needless is Théoden's demand, but it is useless to refuse. A king will have his way in his own hall, be it folly or wisdom. '\n\n\"Truly,\" said Aragorn. \"And I would do as the master of the house bade me, were this only a woodman's cot, if I bore now any sword but Andúril. '\n\n\"Whatever its name maybe,\" said Háma, \"here you shall lay it, if you would not fight alone against all the men in Edoras.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Move the story forward as the writer's assistant.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: J.R.R. Tolkien\nTitle: The Two Towers\nChapter: 10" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I am the Doorward of Théoden,\" he said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Háma is my name. Here I must bid you lay aside your weapons before you enter.\"\n\nThen Legolas gave into his hand his silver-hafted knife, his quiver, and his bow. \"Keep these well,\" he said, \"for they come from the Golden Wood and the Lady of Lothlórien gave them tome.\"\n\nWonder came into the man's eyes, and he laid the weapons hastily by the wall, as if he feared to handle them.\"No man will touch them, I promise you, ' he said.\n\nAragorn stood awhile hesitating. \"It is not my will,\" he said, \"to put aside my sword or to deliver Andúril to the hand of any other man.\"\n\n\"It is the will of Théoden,\" said Háma.\n\n\"It is not clear tome that the will of Théoden son of Thengel, even though he be lord of the Mark, should prevail over the will of Aragorn son of Arathorn, Elendil's heir of Gondor. '\n\n\"This is the house of Théoden, not of Aragorn, even were he King of Gondor in the seat of Denethor,\" said Háma, stepping swiftly before the doors and barring the way. His sword was now in his hand and the point towards the strangers.\n\n\"This is idle talk,\" said Gandalf. \"Needless is Théoden's demand, but it is useless to refuse. A king will have his way in his own hall, be it folly or wisdom. '\n\n\"Truly,\" said Aragorn. \"And I would do as the master of the house bade me, were this only a woodman's cot, if I bore now any sword but Andúril. '\n\n\"Whatever its name maybe,\" said Háma, \"here you shall lay it, if you would not fight alone against all the men in Edoras.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Not alone!\" said Gimli, fingering the blade of his axe, and looking darkly up at the guard, as if he were a young tree that Gimli had a mind to fell. \"Not alone!\"\n\n\"Come, come!\" said Gandalf. \"We are all friends here. Or should be; for the laughter of Mordor will be our only reward, if we quarrel. My errand is pressing. Here at least is my sword, goodman Háma. Keep it well. Glamdring it is called, for the Elves made it long ago. Now let me pass. Come, Aragorn!\"\n\nSlowly Aragorn unbuckled his belt and himself set his sword upright against the wall. \"Here I set it,\" he said; \"but I command you not to touch it, nor to permit any other to lay hand on it. In this Elvish sheath dwells the Blade that was Broken and has been made again. Telchar first wrought it in the deeps of time. Death shall come to any man that draws Elendil's sword save Elendil's heir.\"\n\nThe guard stepped back and looked with amazement on Aragorn. \"It seems that you are come on the wings of song out of the forgotten days,\" he said. \"It shall be, lord, as you command.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Gimli, \"if it has Andúril to keep it company, my axe may stay here, too, without shame\"; and he laid it on the floor. \"Now then, if all is as you wish, let us go and speak with your master.\"\n\nThe guard still hesitated. \"Your staff,\" he said to Gandalf. \"Forgive me, but that too must be left at the doors.\"\n\n\"Foolishness!\" said Gandalf. \"Prudence is one thing, but discourtesy is another. I am old. If I may not lean on my stick as I go, then I will sit out here, until it pleases Théoden to hobble out himself to speak with me.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Aragorn laughed. \"Every man has something too dear to trust to another. But would you part an old man from his support? Come, will you not let us enter?\"\n\n\"The staff in the hand of a wizard maybe more than a prop forage,\" said Háma. He looked hard at the ash-staff on which Gandalf leaned. \"Yet in doubt a man of worth will trust to his own wisdom. I believe you are friends and folk worthy of honour, who have no evil purpose. You may go in.\"\n\nThe guards now lifted the heavy bars of the doors and swung them slowly inwards grumbling on their great hinges. The travellers entered. Inside it seemed dark and warm after the clear air upon the hill. The hall was long and wide and filled with shadows and half lights; mighty pillars upheld its lofty roof. But here and there bright sunbeams fell in glimmering shafts from the eastern windows, high under the deep eaves. Through the louver in the roof, above the thin wisps of issuing smoke, the sky showed pale and blue. As their eyes changed, the travellers perceived that the floor was paved with stones of many hues; branching runes and strange devices intertwined beneath their feet. They saw now that the pillars were richly carved, gleaming dully with gold and half-seen colours. Many woven cloths were hung upon the walls, and over their wide spaces marched figures of ancient legend, some dim with years, some darkling in the shade. But upon one form the sunlight fell: a young man upon a white horse. He was blowing a great horn, and his yellow hair was flying in the wind. The horse's head was lifted, and its nostrils were wide and red as it neighed, smelling battle afar. Foaming water, green and white, rushed and curled about its knees." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Behold Eorl the Young!\" said Aragorn. \"Thus he rode out of the North to the Battle of the Field of Celebrant.\"\n\nNow the four companions went forward, past the clear wood-fire burning upon the long hearth in the midst of the hall. Then they halted. At the far end of the house, beyond the hearth and facing north towards the doors, was a dais with three steps; and in the middle of the dais was a great gilded chair. Upon it sat a man so bent with age that he seemed almost a dwarf; but his white hair was long and thick and fell in great braids from beneath a thin golden circlet set upon his brow. In the centre upon his forehead shone a single white diamond. His beard was laid like snow upon his knees; but his eyes still burned with a bright light, glinting as he gazed at the strangers. Behind his chair stood a woman clad in white. At his feet upon the steps sat a wizened figure of a man, with a pale wise face and heavy-lidded eyes.\n\nThere was a silence. The old man did not move in his chair. At length Gandalf spoke. \"Hail, Théoden son of Thengel! I have returned. For behold! the storm comes, and now all friends should gather together, lest each singly be destroyed.\"\n\nSlowly the old man rose to his feet, leaning heavily upon a short black staff with a handle of white bone; and now the strangers saw that, bent though he was, he was still tall and must in youth have been high and proud indeed.\n\n\"I greet you,\" he said, \"and maybe you look for welcome. But truth to tell your welcome is doubtful here, Master Gandalf. You have ever been a herald of woe. Troubles follow you like crows, and ever the oftener the worse. I will not deceive you: when I heard that Shadowfax had comeback riderless, I rejoiced at the return of the horse, but still more at the lack of the rider; and when Éomer brought the tidings that you had gone at last to your long home, I did not mourn. But news from afar is seldom sooth. Here you come again! And with you come evils worse than before, as might be expected. Why should I welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow? Tell me that.\" Slowly he sat down again in his chair." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You speak justly, lord,\" said the pale man sitting upon the steps of the dais. \"It is not yet five days since the bitter tidings came that Théodred your son was slain upon the West Marches: your right-hand, Second Marshal of the Mark. In Éomer there is little trust. Few men would be left to guard your walls, if he had been allowed to rule. And even now we learn from Gondor that the Dark Lord is stirring in the East. Such is the hour in which this wanderer chooses to return. Why indeed should we welcome you, Master Stormcrow? Láthspell I name you, Ill-news; and ill news is an ill guest they say.\" He laughed grimly, as he lifted his heavy lids fora moment and gazed on the strangers with dark eyes.\n\n\"You are held wise, my friend Wormtongue, and are doubtless a great support to your master,\" answered Gandalf in a soft voice. \"Yet in two ways may a man come with evil tidings. He maybe a worker of evil; or he maybe such as leaves well alone, and comes only to bring aid in time of need.\"\n\n\"That is so,\" said Wormtongue; \"but there is a third kind: pickers of bones, meddlers in other men's sorrows, carrion-fowl that grow fat on war. What aid have you ever brought, Stormcrow? And what aid do you bring now? It was aid from us that you sought last time that you were here. Then my lord bade you choose any horse that you would and begone; and to the wonder of all you took Shadowfax in your insolence. My lord was sorely grieved; yet to some it seemed that to speed you from the land the price was not too great. I guess that it is likely to turnout the same once more: you will seek aid rather than render it. Do you bring men? Do you bring horses, swords, spears? That I would call aid; that is our present need. But who are these that follow at your tail? Three ragged wanderers in grey, and you yourself the most beggar-like of the four! '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late, Théoden son of Thengel,\" said Gandalf. \"Has not the messenger from your gate reported the names of my companions? Seldom has any lord of Rohan received three such guests. Weapons they have laid at your doors that are worth many a mortal man, even the mightiest. Grey is their raiment, for the Elves clad them, and thus they have passed through the shadow of great perils to your hall.\"\n\n\"Then it is true, as Éomer reported, that you are in league with the Sorceress of the Golden Wood?\" said Wormtongue. \"It is not to be wondered at: webs of deceit were ever woven in Dwimordene.\"\n\nGimli strode apace forward, but felt suddenly the hand of Gandalf clutch him by the shoulder, and he halted, standing stiff as stone.\n\nThus Gandalf softly sang, and then suddenly he changed. Casting his tattered cloak aside, he stood up and leaned no longer on his staff; and he spoke in a clear cold voice.\n\n\"The wise speak only of what they know, Gríma son of Gálmód. A witless worm have you become. Therefore be silent, and keep your forked tongue behind your teeth. I have not passed through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a serving-man till the lightning falls.\"\n\nHe raised his staff. There was a roll of thunder. The sunlight was blotted out from the eastern windows; the whole hall became suddenly dark as night. The fire faded to sullen embers. Only Gandalf could be seen, standing white and tall before the blackened hearth.\n\nIn the gloom they heard the hiss of Wormtongue's voice:\"Did I not counsel you, lord, to forbid his staff? That fool, Háma, has betrayed us! ' There was a flash as if lightning had cloven the roof. Then all was silent. Wormtongue sprawled on his face." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Now Théoden son of Thengel, will you hearken tome?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "said Gandalf. \"Do you ask for help?\" He lifted his staff and pointed to a high window. There the darkness seemed to clear, and through the opening could be seen, high and far, a patch of shining sky. \"Not all is dark. Take courage, Lord of the Mark; for better help you will not find. No counsel have Ito give to those that despair. Yet counsel I could give, and words I could speak to you. Will you hear them? They are not for all ears. Ibid you come out before your doors and look abroad. Too long have you satin shadows and trusted to twisted tales and crooked promptings.\"\n\nSlowly Théoden left his chair. A faint light grew in the hall again. The woman hastened to the king's side, taking his arm, and with faltering steps the old man came down from the dais and paced softly through the hall. Wormtongue remained lying on the floor. They came to the doors and Gandalf knocked.\n\n\"Open!\" he cried. \"The Lord of the Mark comes forth!\"\n\nThe doors rolled back and a keen air came whistling in. A wind was blowing on the hill.\n\n\"Send your guards down to the stairs\" foot, \"said Gandalf.\"And you, lady, leave him awhile with me. I will care for him. '\n\n\"Go, Éowyn sister-daughter!\" said the old king. \"The time for fear is past.\"\n\nThe woman turned and went slowly into the house. As she passed the doors she turned and looked back. Grave and thoughtful washer glance, as she looked on the king with cool pity in her eyes. Very fair washer face, and her longhair was like a river of gold. Slender and tall she was in her white robe girt with silver; but strong she seemed and stern as steel, a daughter of kings. Thus Aragorn for the first time in the full light of day beheld Éowyn, Lady of Rohan, and thought her fair, fair and cold, like a morning of pale spring that is not yet come to womanhood. And she now was suddenly aware of him: tall heir of kings, wise with many winters, greycloaked, hiding a power that yet she felt. Fora moment still as stone she stood, then turning swiftly she was gone." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Now, lord,\" said Gandalf, \"look out upon your land!" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Breathe the free air again!\"\n\nFrom the porch upon the top of the high terrace they could see beyond the stream the green fields of Rohan fading into distant grey. Curtains of wind-blown rain were slanting down. The sky above and to the west was still dark with thunder, and lightning faraway flickered among the tops of hidden hills. But the wind had shifted to the north, and already the storm that had come out of the East was receding, rolling away southward to the sea. Suddenly through a rent in the clouds behind them a shaft of sun stabbed down. The falling showers gleamed like silver, and faraway the river glittered like a shimmering glass.\n\n\"It is not so dark here,\" said Théoden.\n\n\"No,\" said Gandalf. \"Nor does age lie so heavily on your shoulders as some would have you think. Cast aside your prop!\"\n\nFrom the king's hand the black staff fell clattering on the stones. He drew himself up, slowly, as a man that is stiff from long bending over some dull toil. Now tall and straight he stood, and his eyes were blue as he looked into the opening sky.\n\n\"Dark have been my dreams of late,\" he said, \"but I feel as one new-awakened. I would now that you had come before, Gandalf. For I fear that already you have come too late, only to seethe last days of my house. Not long now shall stand the high hall which Brego son of Eorl built. Fire shall devour the high seat. What is to be done?\"\n\n\"Much,\" said Gandalf. \"But first send for Éomer. Do I not guess rightly that you hold him prisoner, by the counsel of Gríma, of him that all save you name the Wormtongue?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"It is true,\" said Théoden." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"He had rebelled against my commands, and threatened death to Gríma in my hall.\"\n\n\"A man may love you and yet not love Wormtongue or his counsels,\" said Gandalf.\n\n\"That maybe. I will do as you ask. Call Háma tome. Since he proved untrusty as a doorward, let him become an errand-runner. The guilty shall bring the guilty to judgement,\" said Théoden, and his voice was grim, yet he looked at Gandalf and smiled and as he did so many lines of care were smoothed away and did not return.\n\nWhen Háma had been summoned and had gone, Gandalf led Théoden to a stone seat, and then sat himself before the king upon the topmost stair. Aragorn and his companions stood nearby.\n\n\"There is no time to tell all that you should hear,\" said Gandalf. \"Yet if my hope is not cheated, a time will come erelong when I can speak more fully. Behold! you are come into a peril greater even than the wit of Wormtongue could weave into your dreams. But see! you dream no longer. You live. Gondor and Rohan do not standalone. The enemy is strong beyond our reckoning, yet we have a hope at which he has not guessed.\"\n\nQuickly now Gandalf spoke. His voice was low and secret, and none save the king heard what he said. But ever as he spoke the light shone brighter in Théoden's eye, and at the last he rose from his seat to his full height, and Gandalf beside him, and together they looked out from the high place towards the East.\n\n\"Verily,\" said Gandalf, now in aloud voice, keen and clear, \"that way lies our hope, where sits our greatest fear. Doom hangs still on a thread. Yet hope there is still, if we can but stand unconquered fora little while.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The others too now turned their eyes eastward. Over the sundering leagues of land, faraway they gazed to the edge of sight, and hope and fear bore their thoughts still on, beyond dark mountains to the Land of Shadow. Where now was the Ring-bearer? How thin indeed was the thread upon which doom still hung! It seemed to Legolas, as he strained his farseeing eyes, that he caught a glint of white: faraway perchance the sun twinkled on a pinnacle of the Tower of Guard. And further still, endlessly remote and yet a present threat, there was a tiny tongue of flame.\n\nSlowly Théoden sat down again, as if weariness still struggled to master him against the will of Gandalf. He turned and looked at his great house. \"Alas!\" he said, \"that these evil days should be mine, and should come in my old age instead of that peace which I have earned. Alas for Boromir the brave! The young perish and the old linger, withering.\" He clutched his knees with his wrinkled hands.\n\n\"Your fingers would remember their old strength better, if they grasped a sword-hilt,\" said Gandalf.\n\nThéoden rose and put his hand to his side; but no sword hung at his belt. \"Where has Gríma stowed it?\" he muttered under his breath.\n\n\"Take this, dear lord!\" said a clear voice. \"It was ever at your service.\" Two men had come softly up the stair and stood now a few steps from the top. Éomer was there. No helm was on his head, no mail was on his breast, but in his hand he held a drawn sword; and as he knelt he offered the hilt to his master.\n\n\"How comes this?\" said Théoden sternly. He turned towards Éomer, and the men looked in wonder at him, standing now proud and erect. Where was the old man whom they had left crouching in his chair or leaning on his stick?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It is my doing, lord,\" said Háma, trembling. \"I understood that Éomer was to beset free. Such joy was in my heart that maybe I have erred. Yet, since he was free again, and he a Marshal of the Mark, I brought him his sword as he bade me.\"\n\n\"To lay at your feet, my lord,\" said Éomer.\n\nFora moment of silence Théoden stood looking down at Éomer as he knelt still before him. Neither moved.\n\n\"Will you not take the sword?\" said Gandalf.\n\nSlowly Théoden stretched forth his hand. As his fingers took the hilt, it seemed to the watchers that firmness and strength returned to his thin arm. Suddenly he lifted the blade and swung it shimmering and whistling in the air. Then he gave a great cry. His voice rang clear as he chanted in the tongue of Rohan a call to arms.\n\nThe guards, thinking that they were summoned, sprang up the stair. They looked at their lord in amazement, and then as one man they drew their swords and laid them at his feet. \"Command us!\" they said.\n\n\"Westu Théoden hál!\" cried Éomer. \"It is a joy to us to see you return into your own. Never again shall it be said, Gandalf, that you come only with grief!\"\n\n\"Take back your sword, Éomer, sister-son!\" said the king. \"Go, Háma, and seek my own sword! Gríma has it in his keeping. Bring him tome also. Now, Gandalf, you said that you had counsel to give, if I would hear it. What is your counsel?\"\n\n\"You have yourself already taken it,\" answered Gandalf. \"To put your trust in Éomer, rather than in a man of crooked mind. To cast aside regret and fear. To do the deed at hand. Every man that can ride should be sent west at once, as Éomer counselled you: we must first destroy the threat of Saruman, while we have time. If we fail, we fall. If we succeed– then we will face the next task. Meanwhile your people that are left, the women and the children and the old, should fly to the refuges that you have in the mountains. Were they not prepared against just such an evil day as this? Let them take provision, but delay not, nor burden themselves with treasures, great or small. It is their lives that are at stake.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"This counsel seems good tome now,\" said Théoden. \"Let all my folk get ready! But you my guests– truly you said, Gandalf, that the courtesy of my hall is lessened. You have ridden through the night, and the morning wears away. You have had neither sleep nor food. A guest-house shall be made ready: there you shall sleep, when you have eaten.\"\n\n\"Nay, lord,\" said Aragorn. \"There is no rest yet for the weary. The men of Rohan must ride forth today, and we will ride with them, axe, sword, and bow. We did not bring them to rest against your wall, Lord of the Mark. And I promised Éomer that my sword and his should be drawn together.\"\n\n\"Now indeed there is hope of victory!\" said Éomer.\n\n\"Hope, yes,\" said Gandalf. \"But Isengard is strong. And other perils draw ever nearer. Do not delay, Théoden, when we are gone. Lead your people swiftly to the Hold of Dunharrow in the hills!\"\n\n\"Nay, Gandalf!\" said the king. \"You do not know your own skill in healing. It shall not be so. I myself will go to war, to fall in the front of the battle, if it must be. Thus shall I sleep better.\"\n\n\"Then even the defeat of Rohan will be glorious in song,\" said Aragorn. The armed men that stood near clashed their weapons, crying: \"The Lord of the Mark will ride! Forth Eorlingas!\"\n\n\"But your people must not be both unarmed and shepherdless,\" said Gandalf. \"Who shall guide them and govern them in your place?\"\n\n\"I will take thought for that ere I go,\" answered Théoden. \"Here comes my counsellor.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At that moment Háma came again from the hall. Behind him cringing between two other men, came Gríma the Wormtongue. His face was very white. His eyes blinked in the sunlight. Háma knelt and presented to Théoden along sword in a scabbard clasped with gold and set with green gems.\n\n\"Here, lord, is Herugrim, your ancient blade,\" he said. \"It was found in his chest. Loth was he to render up the keys. Many other things are there which men have missed.\"\n\n\"You lie,\" said Wormtongue. \"And this sword your master himself gave into my keeping.\"\n\n\"And he now requires it of you again,\" said Théoden. \"Does that displease you?\"\n\n\"Assuredly not, lord,\" said Wormtongue. \"I care for you and yours as best I may. But do not weary yourself, or tax too heavily your strength. Let others deal with these irksome guests. Your meat is about to beset on the board. Will you not go to it?\"\n\n\"I will,\" said Théoden. \"And let food for my guests beset on the board beside me. The host rides today. Send the heralds forth! Let them summon all who dwell nigh! Every man and strong lad able to bear arms, all who have horses, let them be ready in the saddle at the gate ere the second hour from noon!\"\n\n\"Dear lord!\" cried Wormtongue. \"It is as I feared. This wizard has bewitched you. Are none to be left to defend the Golden Hall of your fathers, and all your treasure? None to guard the Lord of the Mark?\"\n\n\"If this is bewitchment,\" said Théoden, \"it seems tome more wholesome than your whisperings. Your leechcraft erelong would have had me walking on all fours like a beast. No, not one shall be left, not even Gríma. Gríma shall ride too. Go! You have yet time to clean the rust from your sword.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Mercy, lord!\" whined Wormtongue, grovelling on the ground. \"Have pity on one worn out in your service. Send me not from your side! I at least will standby you when all others have gone. Do not send your faithful Gríma away!\"\n\n\"You have my pity,\" said Théoden. \"And I do not send you from my side. I go myself to war with my men. Ibid you come with me and prove your faith.\"\n\nWormtongue looked from face to face. In his eyes was the hunted look of a beast seeking some gap in the ring of his enemies. He licked his lips with along pale tongue. \"Such a resolve might be expected from a lord of the House of Eorl, old though he be,\" he said. \"But those who truly love him would spare his failing years. Yet I see that I come too late. Others, whom the death of my lord would perhaps grieve less, have already persuaded him. If I cannot undo their work, hear meat least in this, lord! One who knows your mind and honours your commands should be left in Edoras. Appoint a faithful steward. Let your counsellor Gríma keep all things till your return– and I pray that we may see it, though nowise man will deem it hopeful.\"\n\nÉomer laughed. \"And if that plea does not excuse you from war, most noble Wormtongue,\" he said, \"what office of less honour would you accept? To carry a sack of meal up into the mountains– if any man would trust you with it?\"\n\n\"Nay, Éomer, you do not fully understand the mind of Master Wormtongue,\" said Gandalf, turning his piercing glance upon him. \"He is bold and cunning. Even now he plays a game with peril and wins a throw. Hours of my precious time he has wasted already. Down, snake!\" he said suddenly in a terrible voice. \"Down on your belly! How long is it since Saruman bought you? What was the promised price? When all the men were dead, you were to pick your share of the treasure, and take the woman you desire? Too long have you watched her under your eyelids and haunted her steps.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Éomer grasped his sword. \"That I knew already,\" he muttered. \"For that reason I would have slain him before, forgetting the law of the hall. But there are other reasons.\" He stepped forward, but Gandalf stayed him with his hand.\n\n\"Éowyn is safe now,\" he said. \"But you, Wormtongue, you have done what you could for your true master. Some reward you have earned at least. Yet Saruman is apt to overlook his bargains. I should advise you to go quickly and remind him, lest he forget your faithful service.\"\n\n\"You lie,\" said Wormtongue.\n\n\"That word comes too oft and easy from your lips,\" said Gandalf. \"I do not lie. See, Théoden, here is a snake! With safety you cannot take it with you, nor can you leave it behind. To slay it would be just. But it was not always as it now is. Once it was a man, and did you service in its fashion. Give him a horse and let him goat once, wherever he chooses. By his choice you shall judge him.\"\n\n\"Do you hear this, Wormtongue?\" said Théoden. \"This is your choice: to ride with me to war, and let us see in battle whether you are true; or to go now, whither you will. But then, if ever we meet again, I shall not be merciful.\"\n\nSlowly Wormtongue rose. He looked at them with half-closed eyes. Last of all he scanned Théoden's face and opened his mouth as if to speak. Then suddenly he drew himself up. His hands worked. His eyes glittered. Such malice was in them that men stepped back from him. He bared his teeth; and then with a hissing breath he spat before the king's feet, and darting to one side, he fled down the stair." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"After him!\" said Théoden. \"See that he does no harm to any, but do not hurt him or hinder him. Give him a horse, if he wishes it.\"\n\n\"And if any will bear him,\" said Éomer.\n\nOne of the guards ran down the stair. Another went to the well at the foot of the terrace and in his helm drew water. With it he washed clean the stones that Wormtongue had defiled.\n\n\"Now my guests, come!\" said Théoden. \"Come and take such refreshment as haste allows.\"\n\nThey passed back into the great house. Already they heard below them in the town the heralds crying and the war-horns blowing. For the king was to ride forth as soon as the men of the town and those dwelling near could be armed and assembled.\n\nAt the king's board sat Éomer and the four guests, and there also waiting upon the king was the lady Éowyn. They ate and drank swiftly. The others were silent while Théoden questioned Gandalf concerning Saruman.\n\n\"How far back his treachery goes, who can guess?\" said Gandalf. \"He was not always evil. Once I do not doubt that he was the friend of Rohan; and even when his heart grew colder, he found you useful still. But for long now he has plotted your ruin, wearing the mask of friendship, until he was ready. In those years Wormtongue's task was easy, and all that you did was swiftly known in Isengard; for your land was open, and strangers came and went. And ever Wormtongue's whispering was in your ears, poisoning your thought, chilling your heart, weakening your limbs, while others watched and could do nothing, for your will was in his keeping." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But when I escaped and warned you, then the mask was torn, for those who would see. After that Wormtongue played dangerously, always seeking to delay you, to prevent your full strength being gathered. He was crafty: dulling men's wariness, or working on their fears, as served the occasion. Do you not remember how eagerly he urged that no man should be spared on a wildgoose chase northward, when the immediate peril was westward? He persuaded you to forbid Éomer to pursue the raiding Orcs. If Éomer had not defied Wormtongue's voice speaking with your mouth, those Orcs would have reached Isengard by now, bearing a great prize. Not indeed that prize which Saruman desires above all else, but at the least two members of my Company, sharers of a secret hope, of which even to you, lord, I cannot yet speak openly. Dare you think of what they might now be suffering, or what Saruman might now have learned to our destruction?\"\n\n\"I owe much to Éomer,\" said Théoden. \"Faithful heart may have froward tongue.\"\n\n\"Say also,\" said Gandalf, \"that to crooked eyes truth may wear awry face.\"\n\n\"Indeed my eyes were almost blind,\" said Théoden. \"Most of all I owe to you, my guest. Once again you have come in time. I would give you a gift ere we go, at your own choosing. You have only to name aught that is mine. I reserve now only my sword!\"\n\n\"Whether I came in time or not is yet to be seen,\" said Gandalf. \"But as for your gift, lord, I will choose one that will fit my need: swift and sure. Give me Shadowfax! He was only lent before, if loan we may call it. But now I shall ride him into great hazard, setting silver against black: I would not risk anything that is not my own. And already there is a bond of love between us.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You choose well,\" said Théoden; \"and I give him now gladly. Yet it is a great gift. There is none like to Shadowfax. In him one of the mighty steeds of old has returned. Nonesuch shall return again. And to you my other guests I will offer such things as maybe found in my armoury. Swords you do not need, but there are helms and coats of mail of cunning work, gifts to my fathers out of Gondor. Choose from these ere we go, and may they serve you well!\"\n\nNow men came bearing raiment of war from the king's hoard, and they arrayed Aragorn and Legolas in shining mail. Helms too they chose, and round shields: their bosses were overlaid with gold and set with gems, green and red and white. Gandalf took no armour; and Gimli needed no coat of rings, even if one had been found to match his stature, for there was no hauberk in the hoards of Edoras of better make than his short corslet forged beneath the Mountain in the North. But he chose a cap of iron and leather that fitted well upon his round head; and a small shield he also took. It bore the running horse, white upon green, that was the emblem of the House of Eorl.\n\n\"May it keep you well!\" said Théoden. \"It was made for me in Thengel's day, while still I was a boy. '\n\nGimli bowed. \"I am proud, Lord of the Mark, to bear your device,\" he said. \"Indeed sooner would I bear a horse than be borne by one. I love my feet better. But, maybe, I shall come yet where I can stand and fight.\"\n\n\"It may well be so,\" said Théoden." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The king now rose, and at once Éowyn came forward bearing wine." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Ferthu Théoden hál!\" she said. \"Receive now this cup and drink in happy hour. Health be with thee at thy going and coming!\"\n\nThéoden drank from the cup, and she then proffered it to the guests. As she stood before Aragorn she paused suddenly and looked upon him, and her eyes were shining. And he looked down upon her fair face and smiled; but as he took the cup, his hand met hers, and he knew that she trembled at the touch. \"Hail Aragorn son of Arathorn!\" she said. \"Hail Lady of Rohan!\" he answered, but his face now was troubled and he did not smile.\n\nWhen they had all drunk, the king went down the hall to the doors. There the guards awaited him, and heralds stood, and all the lords and chiefs were gathered together that remained in Edoras or dwelt nearby.\n\n\"Behold! I go forth, and it seems like to be my last riding,\" said Théoden. \"I have no child. Théodred my son is slain. I name Éomer my sister-son to be my heir. If neither of us return, then choose anew lord as you will. But to someone I must now entrust my people that I leave behind, to rule them in my place. Which of you will stay?\"\n\nNo man spoke. \"Is there none whom you would name? In whom do my people trust?\"\n\n\"In the House of Eorl,\" answered Háma. \"But Éomer I cannot spare, nor would he stay,\" said the king; \"and he is the last of that House.\"\n\n\"I said not Éomer,\" answered Háma. \"And he is not the last. There is Éowyn, daughter of Éomund, his sister. She is fearless and high-hearted. All love her. Let her be as lord to the Eorlingas, while we are gone.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"It shall be so,\" said Théoden." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Let the heralds announce to the folk that the Lady Éowyn will lead them!\"\n\nThen the king sat upon a seat before his doors, and Éomund knelt before him and received from him a sword and a fair corslet. \"Farewell sister-daughter!\" he said. \"Dark is the hour, yet maybe we shall return to the Golden Hall. But in Dunharrow the people may long defend themselves, and if the battle go ill, thither will come all who escape.\"\n\n\"Speak not so!\" she answered. \"A year shall I endure for everyday that passes until your return.\" But as she spoke her eyes went to Aragorn who stood nearby.\n\n\"The king shall come again,\" he said. \"Fear not! Not West but East does our doom await us.\"\n\nThe king now went down the stair with Gandalf beside him. The others followed. Aragorn looked back as they passed towards the gate. Alone Éowyn stood before the doors of the house at the stair's head; the sword was set upright before her, and her hands were laid upon the hilt. She was clad now in mail and shone like silver in the sun.\n\nGimli walked with Legolas, his axe on his shoulder. \"Well, at last we set off!\" he said. \"Men need many words before deeds. My axe is restless in my hands. Though I doubt not that these Rohirrim are fell-handed when they come to it. Nonetheless this is not the warfare that suits me. How shall I come to the battle? I wish I could walk and not bump like a sack at Gandalf's saddlebow. '\n\n\"A safer seat than many, I guess,\" said Legolas. \"Yet doubtless Gandalf will gladly put you down on your feet when blows begin; or Shadowfax himself. An axe is no weapon fora rider.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And a Dwarf is no horseman. It is orc-necks I would hew, not shave the scalps of Men,\" said Gimli, patting the haft of his axe.\n\nAt the gate they found a great host of men, old and young, all ready in the saddle. More than a thousand were there mustered. Their spears were like a springing wood. Loudly and joyously they shouted as Théoden came forth. Some held in readiness the king's horse, Snowmane, and others held the horses of Aragorn and Legolas. Gimli stood ill at ease, frowning, but Éomer came up to him, leading his horse.\n\n\"Hail, Gimli Glóin's son! \"he cried.\"I have not had time to learn gentle speech under your rod, as you promised. But shall we not put aside our quarrel? At least I will speak no evil again of the Lady of the Wood. '\n\n\"I will forget my wrath fora while, Éomer son of Éomund,\" said Gimli; \"but if ever you chance to seethe Lady Galadriel with your eyes, then you shall acknowledge her the fairest of ladies, or our friendship will end.\"\n\n\"So be it!\" said Éomer. \"But until that time pardon me, and in token of pardon ride with me, I beg. Gandalf will beat the head with the Lord of the Mark; but Firefoot, my horse, will bear us both, if you will.\"\n\n\"I thank you indeed,\" said Gimli greatly pleased. \"I will gladly go with you, if Legolas, my comrade, may ride beside us.\"\n\n\"It shall be so,\" said Éomer. \"Legolas upon my left, and Aragorn upon my right, and none will dare to stand before us!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Where is Shadowfax?\" said Gandalf.\n\n\"Running wild over the grass,\" they answered. \"He will let no manhandle him. There he goes, away down by the ford, like a shadow among the willows.\"\n\nGandalf whistled and called aloud the horse's name, and faraway he tossed his head and neighed, and turning sped towards the host like an arrow.\n\n\"Were the breath of the West Wind to take a body visible, even so would it appear,\" said Éomer, as the great horse ran up, until he stood before the wizard.\n\n\"The gift seems already to be given,\" said Théoden. \"But hearken all! Here now I name my guest, Gandalf Greyhame, wisest of counsellors, most welcome of wanderers, a lord of the Mark, a chieftain of the Eorlingas while our kin shall last; and I give to him Shadowfax, prince of horses.\"\n\n\"I thank you, Théoden King,\" said Gandalf. Then suddenly he threw back his grey cloak, and cast aside his hat, and leaped to horseback. He wore no helm nor mail. His snowy hair flew free in the wind, his white robes shone dazzling in the sun.\n\n\"Behold the White Rider!\" cried Aragorn, and all took up the words.\n\n\"Our King and the White Rider!\" they shouted. \"Forth Eorlingas!\"\n\nThe trumpets sounded. The horses reared and neighed. Spear clashed on shield. Then the king raised his hand, and with a rush like the sudden onset of a great wind the last host of Rohan rode thundering into the West.\n\nFar over the plain Éowyn saw the glitter of their spears, as she stood still, alone before the doors of the silent house." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "HELM'S DEEP\n\nThe sun was already westering as they rode from Edoras, and the light of it was in their eyes, turning all the rolling fields of Rohan to a golden haze. There was a beaten way, north-westward along the foot-hills of the White Mountains, and this they followed, up and down in a green country, crossing small swift streams by many fords. Far ahead and to their right the Misty Mountains loomed; ever darker and taller they grew as the miles went by. The sun went slowly down before them. Evening came behind.\n\nThe host rode on. Need drove them. Fearing to come too late, they rode with all the speed they could, pausing seldom. Swift and enduring were the steeds of Rohan, but there were many leagues to go. Forty leagues and more it was, as a bird flies, from Edoras to the fords of the Isen, where they hoped to find the king's men that held back the hosts of Saruman.\n\nNight closed about them. At last they halted to make their camp. They had ridden for some five hours and were far out upon the western plain, yet more than half their journey lay still before them. Ina great circle, under the starry sky and the waxing moon, they now made their bivouac. They lit no fires, for they were uncertain of events; but they set a ring of mounted guards about them, and scouts rode out far ahead, passing like shadows in the folds of the land. The slow night passed without tidings or alarm. At dawn the horns sounded, and within an hour they took the road again.\n\nThere were no clouds overhead yet, but a heaviness was in the air; it was hot for the season of the year. The rising sun was hazy, and behind it, following it slowly up the sky, there was a growing darkness, as of a great storm moving out of the East. And away in the North-west there seemed to be another darkness brooding about the feet of the Misty Mountains, a shadow that crept down slowly from the Wizard's Vale." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gandalf dropped back to where Legolas rode beside Éomer. \"You have the keen eyes of your fair kindred, Legolas,\" he said; \"and they can tell a sparrow from a finch a league off. Tell me, can you see anything away yonder towards Isengard?\"\n\n\"Many miles lie between,\" said Legolas, gazing thither and shading his eyes with his longhand. \"I can see a darkness. There are shapes moving in it, great shapes faraway upon the bank of the river; but what they are I cannot tell. It is not mist or cloud that defeats my eyes: there is a veiling shadow that some power lays upon the land, and it marches slowly downstream. It is as if the twilight under endless trees were flowing downwards from the hills.\"\n\n\"And behind us comes a very storm of Mordor,\" said Gandalf. \"It will be a black night.\"\n\nAs the second day of their riding drew on, the heaviness in the air increased. In the afternoon the dark clouds began to overtake them: a sombre canopy with great billowing edges flecked with dazzling light. The sun went down, blood-red in a smoking haze. The spears of the Riders were tipped with fire as the last shafts of light kindled the steep faces of the peaks of Thrihyrne: now very near they stood on the northernmost arm of the White Mountains, three jagged horns staring at the sunset. In the last red glow men in the vanguard saw a black speck, a horseman riding back towards them. They halted awaiting him.\n\nHe came, a weary man with dinted helm and cloven shield. Slowly he climbed from his horse and stood there awhile gasping. At length he spoke. \"Is Éomer here?\" he asked. \"You come at last, but too late, and with too little strength. Things have gone evilly since Théodred fell. We were driven back yesterday over the Isen with great loss; many perished at the crossing. Then at night fresh forces came over the river against our camp. All Isengard must be emptied; and Saruman has armed the wild hillmen and herd-folk of Dunland beyond the rivers, and these also he loosed upon us. We were overmastered. The shield-wall was broken. Erkenbrand of Westfold has drawn off those men he could gather towards his fastness in Helm's Deep. The rest are scattered." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Where is Éomer?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Tell him there is no hope ahead. He should return to Edoras before the wolves of Isengard come there.\"\n\nThéoden had sat silent, hidden from the man's sight behind his guards; now he urged his horse forward.\"Come, stand before me, Ceorl! \"he said.\"I am here. The last host of the Eorlingas has ridden forth. It will not return without battle. '\n\nThe man's face lightened with joy and wonder. He drew himself up. Then he knelt, offering his notched sword to the king.\"Command me, lord! \"he cried.\"And pardon me! I thought-'\n\n\"You thought I remained in Meduseld bent like an old tree under winter snow. So it was when you rode to war. But a west wind has shaken the boughs,\" said Théoden. \"Give this man afresh horse! Let us ride to the help of Erkenbrand!\"\n\nWhile Théoden was speaking, Gandalf rode a short way ahead, and he sat there alone, gazing north to Isengard and west to the setting sun. Now he came back.\n\n\"Ride, Théoden!\" he said. \"Ride to Helm's Deep! Go not to the Fords of Isen, and do not tarry in the plain! I must leave you fora while. Shadowfax must bear me now on a swift errand. \"Turning to Aragorn and Éomer and the men of the king's household, he cried: \"Keep well the Lord of the Mark, till I return. Await meat Helm's Gate! Farewell! '\n\nHe spoke a word to Shadowfax, and like an arrow from the bow the great horse sprang away. Even as they looked he was gone: a flash of silver in the sunset, a wind over the grass, a shadow that fled and passed from sight. Snowmane snorted and reared, eager to follow; but only a swift bird on the wing could have overtaken him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What does that mean?\" said one of the guard to Háma.\n\n\"That Gandalf Greyhame has need of haste,\" answered Háma. \"Ever he goes and comes unlooked-for.\"\n\n\"Wormtongue, were he here, would not find it hard to explain,\" said the other.\n\n\"True enough,\" said Háma; \"but for myself, I will wait until I see Gandalf again.\"\n\n\"Maybe you will wait long,\" said the other.\n\nThe host turned away now from the road to the Fords of Isen and bent their course southward. Night fell, and still they rode on. The hills drew near, but the tall peaks of Thrihyrne were already dim against the darkening sky. Still some miles away, on the far side of the Westfold Vale, a great bay in the mountains, lay a green coomb, out of which a gorge opened in the hills. Men of that land called it Helm's Deep, after a hero of old wars who had made his refuge there. Ever steeper and narrower it wound inward from the north under the shadow of the Thrihyrne, till the crowhaunted cliffs rose like mighty towers on either side, shutting out the light.\n\nAt Helm's Gate, before the mouth of the Deep, there was a heel of rock thrust outward by the northern cliff. Thereupon its spur stood high walls of ancient stone, and within them was a lofty tower. Men said that in the far-off days of the glory of Gondor the sea-kings had built here this fastness with the hands of giants. The Hornburg it was called, fora trumpet sounded upon the tower echoed in the Deep behind, as if armies long-forgotten were issuing to war from caves beneath the hills. A wall, too, the men of old had made from the Hornburg to the southern cliff, barring the entrance to the gorge. Beneath it by a wide culvert the Deeping-stream passed out. About the feet of the Hornrock it wound, and flowed then in a gully through the midst of a wide green gore, sloping gently down from Helm's Gate to Helm's Dike. Thence it fell into the Deeping-coomb and out into the Westfold Vale. Therein the Hornburg at Helm's Gate Erkenbrand, master of Westfold on the borders of the Mark, now dwelt. As the days darkened with threat of war, being wise, he had repaired the wall and made the fastness strong." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The Riders were still in the low valley before the mouth of the Coomb, when cries and hornblasts were heard from their scouts that went in front." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Out of the darkness arrows whistled. Swiftly a scout rode back and reported that wolf-riders were abroad in the valley, and that a host of Orcs and wild men were hurrying southward from the Fords of Isen and seemed to be making for Helm's Deep.\n\n\"We have found many of our folk lying slain as they fled thither,\" said the scout. \"And we have met scattered companies, going this way and that, leaderless. What has become of Erkenbrand none seem to know. It is likely that he will be overtaken ere he can reach Helm's Gate, if he has not already perished. '\n\n\"Has aught been seen of Gandalf?\" asked Théoden.\n\n\"Yes, lord. Many have seen an old man in white upon a horse, passing hither and thither over the plains like wind in the grass. Some thought he was Saruman. It is said that he went away ere nightfall towards Isengard. Some say also that Wormtongue was seen earlier, going northward with a company of Orcs.\"\n\n\"It will go ill with Wormtongue, if Gandalf comes upon him,\" said Théoden. \"Nonetheless I miss now both my counsellors, the old and the new. But in this need we have no better choice than to goon, as Gandalf said, to Helm's Gate, whether Erkenbrand be there or no. Is it known how great is the host that comes from the North? '\n\n\"It is very great,\" said the scout. \"He that flies counts every foeman twice, yet I have spoken to stouthearted men, and I do not doubt that the main strength of the enemy is many times as great as all that we have here.\"\n\n\"Then let us be swift,\" said Éomer. \"Let us drive through such foes as are already between us and the fastness. There are caves in Helm's Deep where hundreds may lie hid; and secret ways lead thence upon to the hills. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Trust not to secret ways,\" said the king. \"Saruman has long spied out this land. Still in that place our defence may last long. Let us go!\"\n\nAragorn and Legolas went now with Éomer in the van. On through the dark night they rode, ever slower as the darkness deepened and their way climbed southward, higher and higher into the dim folds about the mountains' feet. They found few of the enemy before them. Here and there they came upon roving bands of Orcs; but they fled ere the Riders could take or slay them.\n\n\"It will not belong I fear,\" said Éomer, \"ere the coming of the king's host will be known to the leader of our enemies, Saruman or whatever captain he has sent forth. '\n\nThe rumour of war grew behind them. Now they could hear, borne over the dark, the sound of harsh singing. They had climbed far up into the Deeping-coomb when they looked back. Then they saw torches, countless points of fiery light upon the black fields behind, scattered like red flowers, or winding up from the lowlands in long flickering lines. Here and there a larger blaze leapt up.\n\n\"It is a great host and follows us hard,\" said Aragorn.\n\n\"They bring fire,\" said Théoden, \"and they are burning as they come, rick, cot, and tree. This was a rich vale and had many homesteads. Alas for my folk!\"\n\n\"Would that day was here and we might ride down upon them like a storm out of the mountains!\" said Aragorn. \"It grieves me to fly before them.\"\n\n\"We need not fly much further,\" said Éomer. \"Not far ahead now lies Helm's Dike, an ancient trench and rampart scored across the coomb, two furlongs below Helm's Gate. There we can turn and give battle.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Nay, we are too few to defend the Dike,\" said Théoden. \"It is a mile long or more, and the breach in it is wide.\"\n\n\"At the breach our rearguard must stand, if we are pressed,\" said Éomer.\n\nThere was neither star nor moon when the Riders came to the breach in the Dike, where the stream from above passed out, and the road beside it ran down from the Hornburg. The rampart loomed suddenly before them, a high shadow beyond a dark pit. As they rode up a sentinel challenged them.\n\n\"The Lord of the Mark rides to Helm's Gate, \"Éomer answered.\"I, Éomer son of Éomund, speak. '\n\n\"This is good tidings beyond hope,\" said the sentinel. \"Hasten! The enemy is on your heels.\"\n\nThe host passed through the breach and halted on the sloping sward above. They now learned to their joy that Erkenbrand had left many men to hold Helm's Gate, and more had since escaped thither.\n\n\"Maybe, we have a thousand fit to fight on foot,\" said Gamling, an old man, the leader of those that watched the Dike. \"But most of them have seen too many winters, as I have, or too few, as my son's son here. What news of Erkenbrand? Word came yesterday that he was retreating hither with all that is left of the best Riders of Westfold. But he has not come. '\n\n\"I fear that he will not come now,\" said Éomer. \"Our scouts have gained no news of him, and the enemy fills all the valley behind us.\"\n\n\"I would that he had escaped,\" said Théoden. \"He was a mighty man. In him lived again the valour of Helm the Hammerhand. But we cannot await him here. We must draw all our forces now behind the walls. Are you well stored? We bring little provision, for we rode forth to open battle, not to a siege.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Behind us in the caves of the Deep are three parts of the folk of Westfold, old and young, children and women,\" said Gamling." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But great store of food, and many beasts and their fodder, have also been gathered there.\"\n\n\"That is well,\" said Éomer. \"They are burning or despoiling all that is left in the vale.\"\n\n\"If they come to bargain for our goods at Helm's Gate, they will pay a high price, ' said Gamling.\n\nThe king and his Riders passed on. Before the causeway that crossed the stream they dismounted. Ina long file they led their horses up the ramp and passed within the gates of the Hornburg. There they were welcomed again with joy and renewed hope; for now there were men enough to man both the burg and the barrier wall.\n\nQuickly Éomer set his men in readiness. The king and the men of his household were in the Hornburg, and there also were many of the Westfold-men. But on the Deeping Wall and its tower, and behind it, Éomer arrayed most of the strength that he had, for here the defence seemed more doubtful, if the assault were determined and in great force. The horses were led far up the Deep under such guard as could be spared.\n\nThe Deeping Wall was twenty feet high, and so thick that four men could walk abreast along the top, sheltered by a parapet over which only a tall man could look. Here and there were clefts in the stone through which men could shoot. This battlement could be reached by a stair running down from a door in the outer court of the Hornburg; three flights of steps led also upon to the wall from the Deep behind; but in front it was smooth, and the great stones of it were set with such skill that no foothold could be found at their joints, and at the top they hungover like a sea-delved cliff.\n\nGimli stood leaning against the breastwork upon the wall. Legolas sat above on the parapet, fingering his bow, and peering out into the gloom." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"This is more to my liking,\" said the dwarf, stamping on the stones." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Ever my heart rises as we draw near the mountains. There is good rock here. This country has tough bones. I felt them in my feet as we came up from the dike. Give me a year and a hundred of my kin and I would make this a place that armies would break upon like water.\"\n\n\"I do not doubt it,\" said Legolas. \"But you area dwarf, and dwarves are strange folk. I do not like this place, and I shall like it no more by the light of day. But you comfort me, Gimli, and I am glad to have you standing nigh with your stout legs and your hard axe. I wish there were more of your kin among us. But even more would I give fora hundred good archers of Mirkwood. We shall need them. The Rohirrim have good bowmen after their fashion, but there are too few here, too few.\"\n\n\"It is dark for archery,\" said Gimli. \"Indeed it is time for sleep. Sleep! I feel the need of it, as never I thought any dwarf could. Riding is tiring work. Yet my axe is restless in my hand. Give me a row of orc-necks and room to swing and all weariness will fall from me!\"\n\nA slow time passed. Far down in the valley scattered fires still burned. The hosts of Isengard were advancing in silence now. Their torches could be seen winding up the coomb in many lines.\n\nSuddenly from the Dike yells and screams, and the fierce battle-cries of men broke out. Flaming brands appeared over the brink and clustered thickly at the breach. Then they scattered and vanished. Men came galloping back over the field and up the ramp to the gate of the Hornburg. The rearguard of the Westfolders had been driven in." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The enemy is at hand!\" they said. \"We loosed every arrow that we had, and filled the Dike with Orcs. But it will not halt them long. Already they are scaling the bank at many points, thick as marching ants. But we have taught them not to carry torches.\"\n\nIt was now past midnight. The sky was utterly dark, and the stillness of the heavy air foreboded storm. Suddenly the clouds were seared by a blinding flash. Branched lightning smote down upon the eastward hills. Fora staring moment the watchers on the walls saw all the space between them and the Dike lit with white light: it was boiling and crawling with black shapes, some squat and broad, some tall and grim, with high helms and sable shields. Hundreds and hundreds more were pouring over the Dike and through the breach. The dark tide flowed up to the walls from cliff to cliff. Thunder rolled in the valley. Rain came lashing down.\n\nArrows thick as the rain came whistling over the battlements, and fell clinking and glancing on the stones. Some found a mark. The assault on Helm's Deep had begun, but no sound or challenge was heard within; no answering arrows came.\n\nThe assailing hosts halted, foiled by the silent menace of rock and wall. Ever and again the lightning tore aside the darkness. Then the Orcs screamed, waving spear and sword, and shooting a cloud of arrows at any that stood revealed upon the battlements; and the men of the Mark amazed looked out, as it seemed to them, upon a great field of dark corn, tossed by a tempest of war, and every ear glinted with barbed light.\n\nBrazen trumpets sounded. The enemy surged forward, some against the Deeping Wall, others towards the causeway and the ramp that led up to the Hornburg-gates. There the hugest Orcs were mustered, and the wild men of the Dunland fells. A moment they hesitated and then on they came. The lightning flashed, and blazoned upon every helm and shield the ghastly hand of Isengard was seen. They reached the summit of the rock; they drove towards the gates." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Then at last an answer came: a storm of arrows met them, and a hail of stones." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They wavered, broke, and fled back; and then charged again, broke and charged again; and each time, like the incoming sea, they halted at a higher point. Again trumpets rang, and a press of roaring men leaped forth. They held their great shields above them like a roof, while in their midst they bore two trunks of mighty trees. Behind them orc-archers crowded, sending a hail of darts against the bowmen on the walls. They gained the gates. The trees, swung by strong arms, smote the timbers with a rending boom. If any man fell, crushed by a stone hurtling from above, two others sprang to take his place. Again and again the great rams swung and crashed.\n\nÉomer and Aragorn stood together on the Deeping Wall. They heard the roar of voices and the thudding of the rams; and then in a sudden flash of light they beheld the peril of the gates.\n\n\"Come!\" said Aragorn. \"This is the hour when we draw swords together!\"\n\nRunning like fire, they sped along the wall, and up the steps, and passed into the outer court upon the Rock. As they ran they gathered a handful of stout swordsmen. There was a small postern-door that opened in an angle of the burg-wall on the west, where the cliff stretched out to meet it. On that side a narrow path ran round towards the great gate, between the wall and the sheer brink of the Rock. Together Éomer and Aragorn sprang through the door, their men close behind. The two swords flashed from the sheath as one.\n\n\"Gúthwinë!\" cried Éomer. \"Gúthwinë for the Mark!\"\n\n\"Andúril!\" cried Aragorn. \"Andúril for the Dúnedain!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Charging from the side, they hurled themselves upon the wild men. Andúril rose and fell, gleaming with white fire. A shout went up from wall and tower: \"Andúril! Andúril goes to war. The Blade that was Broken shines again!\"\n\nDismayed the rammers let fall the trees and turned to fight; but the wall of their shields was broken as by a lightning-stroke, and they were swept away, hewn down, or cast over the Rock into the stony stream below. The orc-archers shot wildly and then fled.\n\nFora moment Éomer and Aragorn halted before the gates. The thunder was rumbling in the distance now. The lightning flickered still, far off among the mountains in the South. A keen wind was blowing from the North again. The clouds were torn and drifting, and stars peeped out; and above the hills of the Coomb-side the westering moon rode, glimmering yellow in the storm-wrack.\n\n\"We did not come too soon,\" said Aragorn, looking at the gates. Their great hinges andiron bars were wrenched and bent; many of their timbers were cracked. \"The doors will not withstand another such battering.\"\n\n\"Yet we cannot stay here beyond the walls to defend them,\" said Éomer. \"Look!\" He pointed to the causeway. Already a great press of Orcs and Men were gathering again beyond the stream. Arrows whined, and skipped on the stones about them. \"Come! We must get back and see what we can do to pile stone and beam across the gates within. Come now!\"\n\nThey turned and ran. At that moment some dozen Orcs that had lain motionless among the slain leaped to their feet, and came silently and swiftly behind. Two flung themselves to the ground at Éomer's heels, tripped him, and in a moment they were on top of him. But a small dark figure that none had observed sprang out of the shadows and gave a hoarse shout: Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu! An axe swung and sweptback. Two Orcs fell headless. The rest fled." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Éomer struggled to his feet, even as Aragorn ran back to his aid.\n\nThe postern was closed again, the iron door was barred and piled inside with stones. When all were safe within, Éomer turned: \"I thank you, Gimli son of Glóin!\" he said. \"I did not know that you were with us in the sortie. But oft the unbidden guest proves the best company. How came you there?\"\n\n\"I followed you to shake off sleep,\" said Gimli; \"but I looked on the hillmen and they seemed overlarge for me, so I sat beside a stone to see your sword-play.\"\n\n\"I shall not find it easy to repay you,\" said Éomer. \"There maybe many a chance ere the night is over,\" laughed the Dwarf. \"But I am content. Till now I have hewn naught but wood since I left Moria.\"\n\n\"Two!\" said Gimli, patting his axe. He had returned to his place on the wall.\n\n\"Two?\" said Legolas. \"I have done better, though now I must grope for spent arrows; all mine are gone. Yet I make my tale twenty at the least. But that is only a few leaves in a forest.\"\n\nThe sky now was quickly clearing and the sinking moon was shining brightly. But the light brought little hope to the Riders of the Mark. The enemy before them seemed to have grown rather than diminished, and still more were pressing up from the valley through the breach. The sortie upon the Rock gained only a brief respite. The assault on the gates was redoubled. Against the Deeping Wall the hosts of Isengard roared like a sea. Orcs and hillmen swarmed about its feet from end to end. Ropes with grappling hooks were hurled over the parapet faster than men could cut them or fling them back. Hundreds of long ladders were lifted up. Many were cast down in ruin, but many more replaced them, and Orcs sprang up them like apes in the dark forests of the South. Before the wall's foot the dead and broken were piled like shingle in a storm; ever higher rose the hideous mounds, and still the enemy came on." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Aid the author, keep the plot going.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: J.R.R. Tolkien\nTitle: The Two Towers\nChapter: 11" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Éomer struggled to his feet, even as Aragorn ran back to his aid.\n\nThe postern was closed again, the iron door was barred and piled inside with stones. When all were safe within, Éomer turned: \"I thank you, Gimli son of Glóin!\" he said. \"I did not know that you were with us in the sortie. But oft the unbidden guest proves the best company. How came you there?\"\n\n\"I followed you to shake off sleep,\" said Gimli; \"but I looked on the hillmen and they seemed overlarge for me, so I sat beside a stone to see your sword-play.\"\n\n\"I shall not find it easy to repay you,\" said Éomer. \"There maybe many a chance ere the night is over,\" laughed the Dwarf. \"But I am content. Till now I have hewn naught but wood since I left Moria.\"\n\n\"Two!\" said Gimli, patting his axe. He had returned to his place on the wall.\n\n\"Two?\" said Legolas. \"I have done better, though now I must grope for spent arrows; all mine are gone. Yet I make my tale twenty at the least. But that is only a few leaves in a forest.\"\n\nThe sky now was quickly clearing and the sinking moon was shining brightly. But the light brought little hope to the Riders of the Mark. The enemy before them seemed to have grown rather than diminished, and still more were pressing up from the valley through the breach. The sortie upon the Rock gained only a brief respite. The assault on the gates was redoubled. Against the Deeping Wall the hosts of Isengard roared like a sea. Orcs and hillmen swarmed about its feet from end to end. Ropes with grappling hooks were hurled over the parapet faster than men could cut them or fling them back. Hundreds of long ladders were lifted up. Many were cast down in ruin, but many more replaced them, and Orcs sprang up them like apes in the dark forests of the South. Before the wall's foot the dead and broken were piled like shingle in a storm; ever higher rose the hideous mounds, and still the enemy came on." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The men of Rohan grew weary. All their arrows were spent, and every shaft was shot; their swords were notched, and their shields were riven. Three times Aragorn and Éomer rallied them, and three times Andúril flamed in a desperate charge that drove the enemy from the wall.\n\nThen a clamour arose in the Deep behind. Orcs had crept like rats through the culvert through which the stream flowed out. There they had gathered in the shadow of the cliffs, until the assault above was hottest and nearly all the men of the defence had rushed to the wall's top. Then they sprang out. Already some had passed into the jaws of the Deep and were among the horses, fighting with the guards.\n\nDown from the wall leapt Gimli with a fierce cry that echoed in the cliffs. \"Khazâd! Khazâd!\" He soon had work enough.\n\n\"Ai-oi!\" he shouted. \"The Orcs are behind the wall. Ai-oi! Come, Legolas! There are enough for us both. Khazâd aimênu!\"\n\nGamling the Old looked down from the Hornburg, hearing the great voice of the dwarf above all the tumult. \"The Orcs are in the Deep!\" he cried. \"Helm! Helm! Forth Helmingas!\" he shouted as he leaped down the stair from the Rock with many men of Westfold at his back.\n\nTheir onset was fierce and sudden, and the Orcs gave way before them. Erelong they were hemmed in in the narrows of the gorge, and all were slain or driven shrieking into the chasm of the Deep to fall before the guardians of the hidden caves.\n\n\"Twenty-one!\" cried Gimli. He hewed a two-handed stroke and laid the last Orc before his feet. \"Now my count passes Master Legolas again.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We must stop this rat-hole,\" said Gamling. \"Dwarves are said to be cunning folk with stone. Lend us your aid, master!\"\n\n\"We do not shape stone with battle-axes, nor with our finger-nails,\" said Gimli. \"But I will help as I may.\"\n\nThey gathered such small boulders and broken stones as they could find to hand, and under Gimli's direction the Westfold-men blocked up the inner end of the culvert, until only a narrow outlet remained. Then the Deeping-stream, swollen by the rain, churned and fretted in its choked path, and spread slowly in cold pools from cliff to cliff.\n\n\"It will be drier above,\" said Gimli. \"Come, Gamling, let us see how things goon the wall!\"\n\nHe climbed up and found Legolas beside Aragorn and Éomer. The elf was whetting his long knife. There was fora while a lull in the assault, since the attempt to break in through the culvert had been foiled.\n\n\"Twenty-one!\" said Gimli.\n\n\"Good!\" said Legolas. \"But my count is now two dozen. It has been knife-workup here.\"\n\nÉomer and Aragorn leant wearily on their swords. Away on the left the crash and clamour of the battle on the Rock rose loud again. But the Hornburg still held fast, like an island in the sea. Its gates lay in ruin; but over the barricade of beams and stones within no enemy as yet had passed.\n\nAragorn looked at the pale stars, and at the moon, now sloping behind the western hills that enclosed the valley. \"This is a night as long as years,\" he said. \"How long will the day tarry?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Dawn is not far off,\" said Gamling, who had now climbed up beside him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But dawn will not help us, I fear.\"\n\n\"Yet dawn is ever the hope of men,\" said Aragorn.\n\n\"But these creatures of Isengard, these half-orcs and goblin-men that the foul craft of Saruman has bred, they will not quail at the sun,\" said Gamling. \"And neither will the wild men of the hills. Do you not hear their voices?\"\n\n\"I hear them,\" said Éomer; \"but they are only the scream of birds and the bellowing of beasts to my ears.\"\n\n\"Yet there are many that cry in the Dunland tongue,\" said Gamling. \"I know that tongue. It is an ancient speech of men, and once was spoken in many western valleys of the Mark. Hark! They hate us, and they are glad; for our doom seems certain to them.\"\"The king, the king!\"\"they cry.\"\"We will take their king. Death to the Forgoil! Death to the Strawheads! Death to the robbers of the North!\"\"Such names they have for us. Not in half a thousand years have they forgotten their grievance that the lords of Gondor gave the Mark to Eorl the Young and made alliance with him. That old hatred Saruman has inflamed. They are fierce folk when roused. They will not give way now for dusk or dawn, until Théoden is taken, or they themselves are slain.\"\n\n\"Nonetheless day will bring hope tome,\" said Aragorn. \"Is it not said that no foe has ever taken the Hornburg, if men defended it?\"\n\n\"So the minstrels say,\" said Éomer.\n\n\"Then let us defend it, and hope!\" said Aragorn.\n\nEven as they spoke there came a blare of trumpets. Then there was a crash and a flash of flame and smoke. The waters of the Deeping-stream poured out hissing and foaming: they were choked no longer, a gaping hole was blasted in the wall. A host of dark shapes poured in." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Devilry of Saruman!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "cried Aragorn. \"They have crept in the culvert again, while we talked, and they have lit the fire of Orthanc beneath our feet. Elendil, Elendil!\" he shouted, as he leaped down into the breach; but even as he did so a hundred ladders were raised against the battlements. Over the wall and under the wall the last assault came sweeping like a dark wave upon a hill of sand. The defence was swept away. Some of the Riders were driven back, further and further into the Deep, falling and fighting as they gave way, step by step, towards the caves. Others cut their way back towards the citadel.\n\nAbroad stairway climbed from the Deep up to the Rock and the rear-gate of the Hornburg. Near the bottom stood Aragorn. In his hand still Andúril gleamed, and the terror of the sword fora while held back the enemy, as one by one all who could gain the stair passed up towards the gate. Behind on the upper steps knelt Legolas. His bow was bent, but one gleaned arrow was all that he had left, and he peered out now, ready to shoot the first Orc that should dare to approach the stair.\n\n\"All who can have now got safe within, Aragorn,\" he called. \"Come back!\"\n\nAragorn turned and sped up the stair; but as he ran he stumbled in his weariness. At once his enemies leapt forward. Up came the Orcs, yelling, with their long arms stretched out to seize him. The foremost fell with Legolas' last arrow in his throat, but the rest sprang over him. Then a great boulder, cast from the outer wall above, crashed down upon the stair, and hurled them back into the Deep. Aragorn gained the door, and swiftly it clanged to behind him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Things go ill, my friends,\" he said, wiping the sweat from his brow with his arm.\n\n\"Ill enough,\" said Legolas, \"but not yet hopeless, while we have you with us. Where is Gimli?\"\n\n\"I do not know,\" said Aragorn. \"I last saw him fighting on the ground behind the wall, but the enemy swept us apart.\"\n\n\"Alas! That is evil news,\" said Legolas.\n\n\"He is stout and strong,\" said Aragorn. \"Let us hope that he will escape back to the caves. There he would be safe fora while. Safer than we. Such a refuge would be to the liking of a dwarf.\"\n\n\"That must be my hope,\" said Legolas. \"But I wish that he had come this way. I desired to tell Master Gimli that my tale is now thirty-nine.\"\n\n\"If he wins back to the caves, he will pass your count again,\" laughed Aragorn. \"Never did I see an axe so wielded.\"\n\n\"I must go and seek some arrows,\" said Legolas. \"Would that this night would end, and I could have better light for shooting.\"\n\nAragorn now passed into the citadel. Thereto his dismay he learned that Éomer had not reached the Hornburg.\n\n\"Nay, he did not come to the Rock,\" said one of the Westfold-men. \"I last saw him gathering men about him and fighting in the mouth of the Deep. Gamling was with him, and the dwarf; but I could not come to them.\"\n\nAragorn strode on through the inner court, and mounted to a high chamber in the tower. There stood the king, dark against a narrow window, looking out upon the vale." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What is the news, Aragorn?\" he said.\n\n\"The Deeping Wallis taken, lord, and all the defence swept away; but many have escaped hitherto the Rock.\"\n\n\"Is Éomer here?\"\n\n\"No, lord. But many of your men retreated into the Deep; and some say that Éomer was amongst them. In the narrows they may hold back the enemy and come within the caves. What hope they may have then I do not know.\"\n\n\"More than we. Good provision, it is said. And the air is wholesome there because of the outlets through fissures in the rock far above. None can force an entrance against determined men. They may holdout long.\"\n\n\"But the Orcs have brought a devilry from Orthanc,\" said Aragorn. \"They have a blasting fire, and with it they took the Wall. If they cannot come in the caves, they may seal up those that are inside. But now we must turn all our thought to our own defence.\"\n\n\"I fret in this prison,\" said Théoden. \"If I could have set a spear in rest, riding before my men upon the field, maybe I could have felt again the joy of battle, and so ended. But I serve little purpose here.\"\n\n\"Here at least you are guarded in the strongest fastness of the Mark,\" said Aragorn. \"More hope we have to defend you in the Hornburg than in Edoras, or even at Dunharrow in the mountains.\"\n\n\"It is said that the Hornburg has never fallen to assault,\" said Théoden; \"but now my heart is doubtful. The world changes, and all that once was strong now proves unsure. How shall any tower withstand such numbers and such reckless hate? Had I known that the strength of Isengard was grown so great, maybe I should not so rashly have ridden forth to meet it, for all the arts of Gandalf. His counsel seems not now so good as it did under the morning sun.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Do not judge the counsel of Gandalf, until all is over, lord,\" said Aragorn.\n\n\"The end will not belong,\" said the king. \"But I will not end here, taken like an old badger in a trap. Snowmane and Hasufel and the horses of my guard are in the inner court. When dawn comes, I will bid men sound Helm's horn, and I will ride forth. Will you ride with me then, son of Arathorn? Maybe we shall cleave a road, or make such an end as will be worth a song– if any be left to sing of us hereafter. '\n\n\"I will ride with you,\" said Aragorn.\n\nTaking his leave, he returned to the walls, and passed round all their circuit, enheartening the men, and lending aid wherever the assault was hot. Legolas went with him. Blasts of fire leaped up from below shaking the stones. Grappling-hooks were hurled, and ladders raised. Again and again the Orcs gained the summit of the outer wall, and again the defenders cast them down.\n\nAt last Aragorn stood above the great gates, heedless of the darts of the enemy. Ashe looked forth he saw the eastern sky grow pale. Then he raised his empty hand, palm outward in token of parley.\n\nThe Orcs yelled and jeered. \"Come down! Comedown!\" they cried. \"If you wish to speak to us, comedown! Bring out your king! We are the fighting Uruk-hai. We will fetch him from his hole, if he does not come. Bring out your skulking king!\"\n\n\"The king stays or comes at his own will,\" said Aragorn.\n\n\"Then what are you doing here?\" they answered. \"Why do you lookout? Do you wish to seethe greatness of our army? We are the fighting Uruk-hai.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I looked out to seethe dawn,\" said Aragorn.\n\n\"What of the dawn?\" they jeered. \"We are the Uruk-hai: we do not stop the fight for night or day, for fair weather or for storm. We come to kill, by sun or moon. What of the dawn?\"\n\n\"None knows what the new day shall bring him,\" said Aragorn. \"Get you gone, ere it turn to your evil.\"\n\n\"Get down or we will shoot you from the wall,\" they cried. \"This is no parley. You have nothing to say.\"\n\n\"I have still this to say,\" answered Aragorn. \"No enemy has yet taken the Hornburg. Depart, or not one of you will be spared. Not one will be left alive to take back tidings to the North. You do not know your peril.\"\n\nSo great a power and royalty was revealed in Aragorn, as he stood there alone above the ruined gates before the host of his enemies, that many of the wild men paused, and looked back over their shoulders to the valley, and some looked up doubtfully at the sky. But the Orcs laughed with loud voices; and a hail of darts and arrows whistled over the wall, as Aragorn leaped down.\n\nThere was a roar and a blast of fire. The archway of the gate above which he had stood a moment before crumbled and crashed in smoke and dust. The barricade was scattered as if by a thunderbolt. Aragorn ran to the king's tower.\n\nBut even as the gate fell, and the Orcs about it yelled, preparing to charge, a murmur arose behind them, like a wind in the distance, and it grew to a clamour of many voices crying strange news in the dawn. The Orcs upon the Rock, hearing the rumour of dismay, wavered and looked back. And then, sudden and terrible, from the tower above, the sound of the great horn of Helm rang out." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "All that heard that sound trembled. Many of the Orcs cast themselves on their faces and covered their ears with their claws. Back from the Deep the echoes came, blast upon blast, as if on every cliff and hill a mighty herald stood. But on the walls men looked up, listening with wonder; for the echoes did not die. Ever the hornblasts wound on among the hills; nearer now and louder they answered one to another, blowing fierce and free.\n\n\"Helm! Helm!\" the Riders shouted. \"Helm is arisen and comes back to war. Helm for Théoden King!\"\n\nAnd with that shout the king came. His horse was white as snow, golden was his shield, and his spear was long. At his right hand was Aragorn, Elendil's heir, behind him rode the lords of the House of Eorl the Young. Light sprang in the sky. Night departed.\n\n\"Forth Eorlingas!\" With a cry and a great noise they charged. Down from the gates they roared, over the causeway they swept, and they drove through the hosts of Isengard as a wind among grass. Behind them from the Deep came the stern cries of men issuing from the caves, driving forth the enemy. Out poured all the men that were left upon the Rock. And ever the sound of blowing horns echoed in the hills.\n\nOn they rode, the king and his companions. Captains and champions fell or fled before them. Neither orc nor man withstood them. Their backs were to the swords and spears of the Riders, and their faces to the valley. They cried and wailed, for fear and great wonder had come upon them with the rising of the day.\n\nSo King Théoden rode from Helm's Gate and clove his path to the great Dike. There the company halted. Light grew bright about them. Shafts of the sun flared above the eastern hills and glimmered on their spears. But they sat silent on their horses, and they gazed down upon the Deeping-coomb." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The land had changed. Where before the green dale had lain, its grassy slopes lapping the ever-mounting hills, there now a forest loomed. Great trees, bare and silent, stood, rank on rank, with tangled bough and hoary head; their twisted roots were buried in the long green grass. Darkness was under them. Between the Dike and the eaves of that nameless wood only two open furlongs lay. There now cowered the proud hosts of Saruman, in terror of the king and in terror of the trees. They streamed down from Helm's Gate until all above the Dike was empty of them, but below it they were packed like swarming flies. Vainly they crawled and clambered about the walls of the coomb, seeking to escape. Upon the east too sheer and stony was the valley's side; upon the left, from the west, their final doom approached.\n\nThere suddenly upon a ridge appeared a rider, clad in white, shining in the rising sun. Over the low hills the horns were sounding. Behind him, hastening down the long slopes, were a thousand men on foot; their swords were in their hands. Amid them strode a man tall and strong. His shield was red. Ashe came to the valley's brink, he set to his lips a great black horn and blew a ringing blast.\n\n\"Erkenbrand!\" the Riders shouted. \"Erkenbrand!\"\n\n\"Behold the White Rider!\" cried Aragorn. \"Gandalf is come again!\"\n\n\"Mithrandir, Mithrandir!\" said Legolas. \"This is wizardry indeed! Come! I would look on this forest, ere the spell changes.\"\n\nThe hosts of Isengard roared, swaying this way and that, turning from fear to fear. Again the horn sounded from the tower. Down through the breach of the Dike charged the king's company. Down from the hills leaped Erkenbrand, lord of Westfold. Down leaped Shadowfax, like a deer that runs surefooted in the mountains. The White Rider was upon them, and the terror of his coming filled the enemy with madness. The wild men fell on their faces before him. The Orcs reeled and screamed and cast aside both sword and spear. Like a black smoke driven by amounting wind they fled. Wailing they passed under the waiting shadow of the trees; and from that shadow none ever came again." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "THE ROAD TO ISENGARD\n\nSo it was that in the light of a fair morning King Théoden and Gandalf the White Rider met again upon the green grass beside the Deeping-stream. There was also Aragorn son of Arathorn, and Legolas the Elf, and Erkenbrand of Westfold, and the lords of the Golden House. About them were gathered the Rohirrim, the Riders of the Mark: wonder overcame their joy in victory, and their eyes were turned towards the wood.\n\nSuddenly there was a great shout, and down from the Dike came those who had been driven back into the Deep. There came Gamling the Old, and Éomer son of Éomund, and beside them walked Gimli the dwarf. He had no helm, and about his head was a linen band stained with blood; but his voice was loud and strong.\n\n\"Forty-two, Master Legolas!\" he cried. \"Alas! My axe is notched: the forty-second had an iron collar on his neck. How is it with you?\"\n\n\"You have passed my score by one,\" answered Legolas. \"But I do not grudge you the game, so glad am Ito see you on your legs!\"\n\n\"Welcome, Éomer, sister-son!\" said Théoden. \"Now that I see you safe, I am glad indeed.\"\n\n\"Hail, Lord of the Mark!\" said Éomer. \"The dark night has passed, and day has come again. But the day has brought strange tidings.\" He turned and gazed in wonder, first at the wood and then at Gandalf. \"Once more you come in the hour of need, unlooked-for,\" he said.\n\n\"Unlooked-for?\" said Gandalf. \"I said that I would return and meet you here.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"But you did not name the hour, nor foretell the manner of your coming." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Strange help you bring. You are mighty in wizardry, Gandalf the White!\"\n\n\"That maybe. But if so, I have not shown it yet. I have but given good counsel in peril, and made use of the speed of Shadowfax. Your own valour has done more, and the stout legs of the Westfold-men marching through the night.\"\n\nThen they all gazed at Gandalf with still greater wonder. Some glanced darkly at the wood, and passed their hands over their brows, as if they thought their eyes saw otherwise than his.\n\nGandalf laughed long and merrily. \"The trees?\" he said. \"Nay, I seethe wood as plainly as do you. But that is no deed of mine. It is a thing beyond the counsel of the wise. Better than my design, and better even than my hope the event has proved.\"\n\n\"Then if not yours, whose is the wizardry?\" said Théoden. \"Not Saruman's, that is plain. Is there some mightier sage, of whom we have yet to learn? '\n\n\"It is not wizardry, but a power far older,\" said Gandalf: 'a power that walked the earth, ere elf sang or hammer rang.\n\n\"And what maybe the answer to your riddle?\" said Théoden.\n\n\"If you would learn that, you should come with me to Isengard,\" answered Gandalf.\n\n\"To Isengard?\" they cried.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Gandalf. \"I shall return to Isengard, and those who will may come with me. There we may see strange things.\"\n\n\"But there are not men enough in the Mark, not if they were all gathered together and healed of wounds and weariness, to assault the stronghold of Saruman,\" said Théoden." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Nevertheless to Isengard I go,\" said Gandalf. \"I shall not stay there long. My way lies now eastward. Look for me in Edoras, ere the waning of the moon!\"\n\n\"Nay!\" said Théoden. \"In the dark hour before dawn I doubted, but we will not part now. I will come with you, if that is your counsel.\"\n\n\"I wish to speak with Saruman, as soon as maybe now,\" said Gandalf, \"and since he has done you great injury, it would befitting if you were there. But how soon and how swiftly will you ride?\"\n\n\"My men are weary with battle,\" said the King; \"and I am weary also. For I have ridden far and slept little. Alas! My old age is not feigned nor due only to the whisperings of Wormtongue. It is an ill that no leech can wholly cure, not even Gandalf.\"\n\n\"Then let all who are to ride with merest now,\" said Gandalf. \"We will journey under the shadow of evening. It is as well; for it is my counsel that all our comings and goings should be as secret as maybe, henceforth. But do not command many men to go with you, Théoden. We go to a parley not to a fight.\"\n\nThe King then chose men that were unhurt and had swift horses, and he sent them forthwith tidings of the victory into every vale of the Mark; and they bore his summons also, bidding all men, young and old, to come in haste to Edoras. There the Lord of the Mark would hold an assembly of all that could bear arms, on the third day after the full moon. To ride with him to Isengard the King chose Éomer and twenty men of his household. With Gandalf would go Aragorn, and Legolas, and Gimli. In spite of his hurt the dwarf would not stay behind." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It was only a feeble blow and the cap turned it,\" he said. \"It would take more than such an orc-scratch to keep me back.\"\n\n\"I will tend it, while you rest,\" said Aragorn.\n\nThe king now returned to the Hornburg, and slept, such asleep of quiet as he had not known for many years, and the remainder of his chosen company rested also. But the others, all that were not hurt or wounded, began a great labour; for many had fallen in the battle and lay dead upon the field or in the Deep.\n\nNo Orcs remained alive; their bodies were uncounted. But a great many of the hillmen had given themselves up; and they were afraid, and cried for mercy.\n\nThe Men of the Mark took their weapons from them, and set them to work.\n\n\"Help now to repair the evil in which you have joined,\" said Erkenbrand; \"and afterwards you shall take an oath never again to pass the Fords of Isen in arms, nor to march with the enemies of Men; and then you shall go free back to your land. For you have been deluded by Saruman. Many of you have got death as the reward of your trust in him; but had you conquered, little better would your wages have been.\"\n\nThe men of Dunland were amazed; for Saruman had told them that the men of Rohan were cruel and burned their captives alive.\n\nIn the midst of the field before the Hornburg two mounds were raised, and beneath them were laid all the Riders of the Mark who fell in the defence, those of the East Dales upon one side, and those of Westfold upon the other. But the men of Dunland were set apart in a mound below the Dike. Ina grave alone under the shadow of the Hornburg lay Háma, captain of the King's guard. He fell before the Gate." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Orcs were piled in great heaps, away from the mounds of Men, not far from the eaves of the forest. And the people were troubled in their minds; for the heaps of carrion were too great for burial or for burning. They had little wood for firing, and none would have dared to take an axe to the strange trees, even if Gandalf had not warned them to hurt neither bark nor bough at their great peril.\n\n\"Let the Orcs lie,\" said Gandalf. \"The morning may bring new counsel.\"\n\nIn the afternoon the King's company prepared to depart. The work of burial was then but beginning; and Théoden mourned for the loss of Háma, his captain, and cast the first earth upon his grave.\"Great injury indeed has Saruman done tome and all this land, \"he said;\"and I will remember it, when we meet. '\n\nThe sun was already drawing near the hills upon the west of the Coomb, when at last Théoden and Gandalf and their companions rode down from the Dike. Behind them were gathered a great host, both of the Riders and of the people of Westfold, old and young, women and children, who had come out from the caves. A song of victory they sang with clear voices; and then they fell silent, wondering what would chance, for their eyes were on the trees and they feared them.\n\nThe Riders came to the wood, and they halted; horse and man, they were unwilling to pass in. The trees were grey and menacing, and a shadow or a mist was about them. The ends of their long sweeping boughs hung down like searching fingers, their roots stood up from the ground like the limbs of strange monsters, and dark caverns opened beneath them. But Gandalf went forward, leading the company, and where the road from the Hornburg met the trees they saw now an opening like an arched gate under mighty boughs; and through it Gandalf passed, and they followed him. Then to their amazement they found that the road ran on, and the Deeping-stream beside it; and the sky was open above and full of golden light. But on either side the great aisles of the wood were already wrapped in dusk, stretching away into impenetrable shadows; and there they heard the creaking and groaning of boughs, and far cries, and a rumour of wordless voices, murmuring angrily. No Orc or other living creature could be seen." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Legolas and Gimli were now riding together upon one horse; and they kept close beside Gandalf, for Gimli was afraid of the wood.\n\n\"It is hot inhere,\" said Legolas to Gandalf. \"I feel a great wrath about me. Do you not feel the air throb in your ears?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Gandalf.\n\n\"What has become of the miserable Orcs?\" said Legolas.\n\n\"That, I think, no one will ever know,\" said Gandalf.\n\nThey rode in silence fora while; but Legolas was ever glancing from side to side, and would often have halted to listen to the sounds of the wood, if Gimli had allowed it.\n\n\"These are the strangest trees that ever I saw,\" he said; \"and I have seen many an oak grow from acorn to ruinous age. I wish that there were leisure now to walk among them: they have voices, and in time I might come to understand their thought.\"\n\n\"No, no!\" said Gimli. \"Let us leave them! I guess their thought already: hatred of all that goon two legs; and their speech is of crushing and strangling.\"\n\n\"Not of all that goon two legs,\" said Legolas. \"There I think you are wrong. It is Orcs that they hate. For they do not belong here and know little of Elves and Men. Faraway are the valleys where they sprang. From the deep dales of Fangorn, Gimli, that is whence they come, I guess.\"\n\n\"Then that is the most perilous wood in Middle-earth,\" said Gimli. 'I should be grateful for the part they have played, but I do not love them. You may think them wonderful, but I have seen a greater wonder in this land, more beautiful than any grove or glade that ever grew: my heart is still full of it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Strange are the ways of Men, Legolas! Here they have one of the marvels of the Northern World, and what do they say of it? Caves, they say! Caves! Holes to fly to in time of war, to store fodder in! My good Legolas, do you know that the caverns of Helm's Deep are vast and beautiful? There would bean endless pilgrimage of Dwarves, merely to gaze at them, if such things were known to be. Aye indeed, they would pay pure gold fora brief glance! '\n\n\"And I would give gold to be excused,\" said Legolas; \"and double to be let out, if I strayed in!\"\n\n\"You have not seen, so I forgive your jest,\" said Gimli. 'But you speak like a fool. Do you think those halls are fair, where your King dwells under the hill in Mirkwood, and Dwarves helped in their making long ago? They are but hovels compared with the caverns I have seen here: immeasurable halls, filled with an everlasting music of water that tinkles into pools, as fair as Kheled-zâram in the starlight.\n\n\"And, Legolas, when the torches are kindled and men walk on the sandy floors under the echoing domes, ah! then, Legolas, gems and crystals and veins of precious ore glint in the polished walls; and the light glows through folded marbles, shell-like, translucent as the living hands of Queen Galadriel. There are columns of white and saffron and dawn-rose, Legolas, fluted and twisted into dreamlike forms; they spring up from many-coloured floors to meet the glistening pendants of the roof: wings, ropes, curtains fine as frozen clouds; spears, banners, pinnacles of suspended palaces! Still lakes mirror them: a glimmering world looks up from dark pools covered with clear glass; cities, such as the mind of Durin could scarce have imagined in his sleep, stretch on through avenues and pillared courts, on into the dark recesses where no light can come. And plink! a silver drop falls, and the round wrinkles in the glass make all the towers bend and waver like weeds and corals in a grotto of the sea. Then evening comes: they fade and twinkle out; the torches pass on into another chamber and another dream. There is chamber after chamber, Legolas; hall opening out of hall, dome after dome, stair beyond stair; and still the winding paths lead on into the mountains\" heart. Caves! The Caverns of Helm's Deep! Happy was the chance that drove me there! It makes me weep to leave them.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Then I will wish you this fortune for your comfort, Gimli,\" said the Elf, \"that you may come safe from war and return to see them again. But do not tell all your kindred! There seems little left for them to do, from your account. Maybe the men of this land are wise to say little: one family of busy dwarves with hammer and chisel might mar more than they made.\"\n\n\"No, you do not understand,\" said Gimli. \"No dwarf could be unmoved by such loveliness. None of Durin's race would mine those caves for stones or ore, not if diamonds and gold could begot there. Do you cut down groves of blossoming trees in the springtime for firewood? We would tend these glades of flowering stone, not quarry them. With cautious skill, tap by tap– a small chip of rock and no more, perhaps, in a whole anxious day– so we could work, and as the years went by, we should open up new ways, and display far chambers that are still dark, glimpsed only as avoid beyond fissures in the rock. And lights, Legolas! We should make lights, such lamps as once shone in Khazad-dûm; and when we wished we would drive away the night that has lain there since the hills were made; and when we desired rest, we would let the night return. '\n\n\"You move me, Gimli,\" said Legolas. \"I have never heard you speak like this before. Almost you make me regret that I have not seen these caves. Come! Let us make this bargain– if we both return safe out of the perils that await us, we will journey fora while together. You shall visit Fangorn with me, and then I will come with you to see Helm's Deep. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That would not be the way of return that I should choose,\" said Gimli. \"But I will endure Fangorn, if I have your promise to comeback to the caves and share their wonder with me.\"\n\n\"You have my promise,\" said Legolas. \"But alas! Now we must leave behind both cave and wood fora while. See! We are coming to the end of the trees. How far is it to Isengard, Gandalf?\"\n\n\"About fifteen leagues, as the crows of Saruman make it,\" said Gandalf: \"five from the mouth of Deeping-coomb to the Fords; and ten more from thereto the gates of Isengard. But we shall not ride all the way this night.\"\n\n\"And when we come there, what shall we see?\" asked Gimli. \"You may know, but I cannot guess.\"\n\n\"I do not know myself for certain,\" answered the wizard. \"I was thereat nightfall yesterday, but much may have happened since. Yet I think that you will not say that the journey was in vain– not though the Glittering Caves of Aglarond be left behind.\"\n\nAt last the company passed through the trees, and found that they had come to the bottom of the Coomb, where the road from Helm's Deep branched, going one way east to Edoras, and the other north to the Fords of Isen. As they rode from under the eaves of the wood, Legolas halted and looked back with regret. Then he gave a sudden cry.\n\n\"There are eyes!\" he said. \"Eyes looking out from the shadows of the boughs! I never saw such eyes before.\"\n\nThe others, surprised by his cry, halted and turned; but Legolas started to ride back.\n\n\"No, no!\" cried Gimli. \"Do as you please in your madness, but let me first get down from this horse! I wish to see no eyes!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Stay, Legolas Greenleaf!\" said Gandalf. \"Do not go back into the wood, not yet! Now is not your time.\"\n\nEven as he spoke, there came forward out of the trees three strange shapes. As tall as trolls they were, twelve feet or more in height; their strong bodies, stout as young trees, seemed to be clad with raiment or with hide of close-fitting grey and brown. Their limbs were long, and their hands had many fingers; their hair was stiff, and their beards grey-green as moss. They gazed outwith solemn eyes, but they were not looking at the riders: their eyes were bent northwards. Suddenly they lifted their long hands to their mouths, and sent forth ringing calls, clear as notes of a horn, but more musical and various. The calls were answered; and turning again, the riders saw other creatures of the same kind approaching, striding through the grass. They came swiftly from the North, walking like wading herons in their gait, but not in their speed; for their legs in their long paces beat quicker than the heron's wings. The riders cried aloud in wonder, and some set their hands upon their sword-hilts.\n\n\"You need no weapons,\" said Gandalf. \"These are but herdsmen. They are not enemies, indeed they are not concerned with us at all.\"\n\nSo it seemed to be; for as he spoke the tall creatures, without a glance at the riders, strode into the wood and vanished.\n\n\"Herdsmen!\" said Théoden. \"Where are their flocks? What are they, Gandalf? For it is plain that to you, at any rate, they are not strange.\"\n\n\"They are the shepherds of the trees,\" answered Gandalf. \"Is it so long since you listened to tales by the fireside? There are children in your land who, out of the twisted threads of story, could pick the answer to your question. You have seen Ents, OKing, Ents out of Fangorn Forest, which in your tongue you call the Entwood. Did you think that the name was given only in idle fancy? Nay, Théoden, it is otherwise: to them you are but the passing tale; all the years from Eorl the Young to Théoden the Old are of little count to them; and all the deeds of your house but a small matter.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "The king was silent." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Ents!\" he said at length. \"Out of the shadows of legend I begin a little to understand the marvel of the trees, I think. I have lived to see strange days. Long we have tended our beasts and our fields, built our houses, wrought our tools, or ridden away to help in the wars of Minas Tirith. And that we called the life of Men, the way of the world. We cared little for what lay beyond the borders of our land. Songs we have that tell of these things, but we are forgetting them, teaching them only to children, as a careless custom. And now the songs have comedown among us out of strange places, and walk visible under the Sun.\"\n\n\"You should be glad, Théoden King,\" said Gandalf. \"For not only the little life of Men is now endangered, but the life also of those things which you have deemed the matter of legend. You are not without allies, even if you know them not.\"\n\n\"Yet also I should be sad,\" said Théoden. \"For however the fortune of war shall go, may it not so end that much that was fair and wonderful shall pass forever out of Middle-earth?\"\n\n\"It may,\" said Gandalf. \"The evil of Sauron cannot be wholly cured, nor made as if it had not been. But to such days we are doomed. Let us now goon with the journey we have begun!\"\n\nThe company turned then away from the Coomb and from the wood and took the road towards the Fords. Legolas followed reluctantly. The sun had set, already it had sunk behind the rim of the world; but as they rode out from the shadow of the hills and looked west to the Gap of Rohan the sky was still red, and a burning light was under the floating clouds. Dark against it there wheeled and flew many black-winged birds. Some passed overhead with mournful cries, returning to their homes among the rocks." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The carrion-fowl have been busy about the battle-field,\" said Éomer.\n\nThey rode now at an easy pace and dark came down upon the plains about them. The slow moon mounted, now waxing towards the full, and in its cold silver light the swelling grasslands rose and fell like a wide grey sea. They had ridden for some four hours from the branching of the roads when they drew near to the Fords. Long slopes ran swiftly down to where the river spread in stony shoals between high grassy terraces. Borne upon the wind they heard the howling of wolves. Their hearts were heavy, remembering the many men that had fallen in battle in this place.\n\nThe road dipped between rising turf-banks, carving its way through the terraces to the river's edge, and up again upon the further side. There were three lines of flat stepping-stones across the stream, and between them fords for horses, that went from either brink to a bare eyot in the midst. The riders looked down upon the crossings, and it seemed strange to them; for the Fords had ever been a place full of the rush and chatter of water upon stones; but now they were silent. The beds of the stream were almost dry, a bare waste of shingles and grey sand.\n\n\"This is become a dreary place,\" said Éomer. \"What sickness has befallen the river? Many fair things Saruman has destroyed: has he devoured the springs of Isen too?\"\n\n\"So it would seem,\" said Gandalf.\n\n\"Alas!\" said Théoden. \"Must we pass this way, where the carrion-beasts devour so many good Riders of the Mark?\"\n\n\"This is our way,\" said Gandalf. \"Grievous is the fall of your men; but you shall see that at least the wolves of the mountains do not devour them. It is with their friends, the Orcs, that they hold their feast: such indeed is the friendship of their kind. Come!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They rode down to the river, and as they came the wolves ceased their howling and slunk away. Fear fell on them seeing Gandalf in the moon, and Shadowfax his horse shining like silver. The riders passed over to the islet, and glittering eyes watched them wanly from the shadows of the banks.\n\n\"Look!\" said Gandalf. \"Friends have laboured here.\"\n\nAnd they saw that in the midst of the eyot a mound was piled, ringed with stones, and set about with many spears.\n\n\"Here lie all the Men of the Mark that fell near this place,\" said Gandalf.\n\n\"Here let them rest!\" said Éomer. \"And when their spears have rotted and rusted, long still may their mound stand and guard the Fords of Isen!\"\n\n\"Is this your work also, Gandalf, my friend?\" said Théoden. \"You accomplished much in an evening and a night!\"\n\n\"With the help of Shadowfax– and others,\" said Gandalf. \"I rode fast and far. But here beside the mound I will say this for your comfort: many fell in the battles of the Fords, but fewer than rumour made them. More were scattered than were slain; I gathered together all that I could find. Some men I sent with Grimbold of Westfold to join Erkenbrand. Some I set to make this burial. They have now followed your marshal, Elfhelm. I sent him with many Riders to Edoras. Saruman I knew had despatched his full strength against you, and his servants had turned aside from all other errands and gone to Helm's Deep: the lands seemed empty of enemies; yet I feared that wolf-riders and plunderers might ride nonetheless to Meduseld, while it was undefended. But now I think you need not fear: you will find your house to welcome your return. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And glad shall I be to see it again,\" said Théoden, \"though brief now, I doubt not, shall be my abiding there.\"\n\nWith that the company said farewell to the island and the mound, and passed over the river, and climbed the further bank. Then they rode on, glad to have left the mournful Fords. As they went the howling of the wolves broke out anew.\n\nThere was an ancient highway that ran down from Isengard to the crossings. For someway it took its course beside the river, bending with it east and then north; but at the last it turned away and went straight towards the gates of Isengard; and these were under the mountain-side in the west of the valley, sixteen miles or more from its mouth. This road they followed but they did not ride upon it; for the ground beside it was firm and level, covered for many miles about with short springing turf. They rode now more swiftly, and by midnight the Fords were nearly five leagues behind. Then they halted, ending their night's journey, for the King was weary. They were come to the feet of the Misty Mountains, and the long arms of Nan Curunír stretched down to meet them. Dark lay the vale before them, for the moon had passed into the West, and its light was hidden by the hills. But out of the deep shadow of the dale rose avast spire of smoke and vapour; as it mounted, it caught the rays of the sinking moon, and spread in shimmering billows, black and silver, over the starry sky.\n\n\"What do you think of that, Gandalf?\" asked Aragorn. \"One would say that all the Wizard's Vale was burning. '\n\n\"There is ever a fume above that valley in these days,\" said Éomer: \"but I have never seen aught like this before. These are steams rather than smokes. Saruman is brewing some devilry to greet us. Maybe he is boiling all the waters of Isen, and that is why the river runs dry.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Maybe he is,\" said Gandalf. \"Tomorrow we shall learn what he is doing. Now let us rest fora while, if we can.\"\n\nThey camped beside the bed of the Isen river; it was still silent and empty. Some of them slept a little. But late in the night the watchmen cried out, and all awoke. The moon was gone. Stars were shining above; but over the ground there crept a darkness blacker than the night. On both sides of the river it rolled towards them, going northward.\n\n\"Stay where you are!\" said Gandalf. \"Draw no weapons! Wait! and it will pass you by!\"\n\nA mist gathered about them. Above them a few stars still glimmered faintly; but on either side there arose walls of impenetrable gloom; they were in a narrow lane between moving towers of shadow. Voices they heard, whisperings and groanings and an endless rustling sigh; the earth shook under them. Long it seemed to them that they sat and were afraid; but at last the darkness and the rumour passed, and vanished between the mountain's arms.\n\nAway south upon the Hornburg, in the middle night men heard a great noise, as a wind in the valley, and the ground trembled; and all were afraid and no one ventured to go forth. But in the morning they went out and were amazed; for the slain Orcs were gone, and the trees also. Far down into the valley of the Deep the grass was crushed and trampled brown, as if giant herdsmen had pastured great droves of cattle there; but a mile below the Dike a huge pit had been delved in the earth, and over it stones were piled into a hill. Men believed that the Orcs whom they had slain were buried there; but whether those who had fled into the wood were with them, none could say, for no man ever set foot upon that hill. The Death Down it was afterwards called, and no grass would grow there. But the strange trees were never seen in Deeping-coomb again; they had returned at night, and had gone faraway to the dark dales of Fangorn. Thus they were revenged upon the Orcs." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The king and his company slept no more that night; but they saw and heard no other strange thing, save one: the voice of the river beside them suddenly awoke. There was a rush of water hurrying down among the stones; and when it had passed, the Isen flowed and bubbled in its bed again, as it had ever done.\n\nAt dawn they made ready to goon. The light came grey and pale, and they did not seethe rising of the sun. The air above was heavy with fog, and a reek lay on the land about them. They went slowly, riding now upon the highway. It was broad and hard, and well-tended. Dimly through the mists they could descry the long arm of the mountains rising on their left. They had passed into Nan Curunír, the Wizard's Vale. That was a sheltered valley, open only to the South. Once it had been fair and green, and through it the Isen flowed, already deep and strong before it found the plains; for it was fed by many springs and lesser streams among the rain-washed hills, and all about it there had lain a pleasant, fertile land.\n\nIt was not so now. Beneath the walls of Isengard there still were acres tilled by the slaves of Saruman; but most of the valley had become a wilderness of weeds and thorns. Brambles trailed upon the ground, or clambering over bush and bank, made shaggy caves where small beasts housed. No trees grew there; but among the rank grasses could still be seen the burned and axe-hewn stumps of ancient groves. It was a sad country, silent now but for the stony noise of quick waters. Smokes and steams drifted in sullen clouds and lurked in the hollows. The riders did not speak. Many doubted in their hearts, wondering to what dismal end their journey led." }, { "from": "human", "value": "After they had ridden for some miles, the highway became a wide street, paved with great flat stones, squared and laid with skill; no blade of grass was seen in any joint." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Deep gutters, filled with trickling water, ran down on either side. Suddenly a tall pillar loomed up before them. It was black; and set upon it was a great stone, carved and painted in the likeness of along White Hand. Its finger pointed north. Not far now they knew that the gates of Isengard must stand, and their hearts were heavy; but their eyes could not pierce the mists ahead.\n\nBeneath the mountain's arm within the Wizard's Vale through years uncounted had stood that ancient place that Men called Isengard. Partly it was shaped in the making of the mountains, but mighty works the Men of Westernesse had wrought thereof old; and Saruman had dwelt there long and had not been idle.\n\nThis was its fashion, while Saruman was at his height, accounted by many the chief of Wizards. A great ring-wall of stone, like towering cliffs, stood out from the shelter of the mountain-side, from which it ran and then returned again. One entrance only was there made in it, a great arch delved in the southern wall. Here through the black rock along tunnel had been hewn, closed at either end with mighty doors of iron. They were so wrought and poised upon their huge hinges, posts of steel driven into the living stone, that when unbarred they could be moved with alight thrust of the arms, noiselessly. One who passed in and came at length out of the echoing tunnel, beheld a plain, a great circle, somewhat hollowed like avast shallow bowl: a mile it measured from rim to rim. Once it had been green and filled with avenues, and groves of fruitful trees, watered by streams that flowed from the mountains to a lake. But no green thing grew therein the latter days of Saruman. The roads were paved with stone-flags, dark and hard; and beside their borders instead of trees there marched long lines of pillars, some of marble, some of copper and of iron, joined by heavy chains." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Many houses there were, chambers, halls, and passages, cut and tunnelled back into the walls upon their inner side, so that all the open circle was overlooked by countless windows and dark doors. Thousands could dwell there, workers, servants, slaves, and warriors with great store of arms; wolves were fed and stabled in deep dens beneath. The plain, too, was bored and delved. Shafts were driven deep into the ground; their upper ends were covered by low mounds and domes of stone, so that in the moonlight the Ring of Isengard looked like a graveyard of unquiet dead. For the ground trembled. The shafts ran down by many slopes and spiral stairs to caverns far under; there Saruman had treasuries, store-houses, armouries, smithies, and great furnaces. Iron wheels revolved there endlessly, and hammers thudded. At night plumes of vapour steamed from the vents, lit from beneath with red light, or blue, or venomous green.\n\nTo the centre all the roads ran between their chains. There stood a tower of marvellous shape. It was fashioned by the builders of old, who smoothed the Ring of Isengard, and yet it seemed a thing not made by the craft of Men, but riven from the bones of the earth in the ancient torment of the hills. A peak and isle of rock it was, black and gleaming hard: four mighty piers of many-sided stone were welded into one, but near the summit they opened into gaping horns, their pinnacles sharp as the points of spears, keen-edged as knives. Between them was a narrow space, and thereupon a floor of polished stone, written with strange signs, a man might stand five hundred feet above the plain. This was Orthanc, the citadel of Saruman, the name of which had (by design or chance) a twofold meaning; for in the Elvish speech orthanc signifies Mount Fang, but in the language of the Mark of old the Cunning Mind." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A strong place and wonderful was Isengard, and long it had been beautiful; and there great lords had dwelt, the wardens of Gondor upon the West, and wise men that watched the stars. But Saruman had slowly shaped it to his shifting purposes, and made it better, as he thought, being deceived– for all those arts and subtle devices, for which he forsook his former wisdom, and which fondly he imagined were his own, came but from Mordor; so that what he made was naught, only a little copy, a child's model or a slave's flattery, of that vast fortress, armoury, prison, furnace of great power, Barad-dûr, the Dark Tower, which suffered no rival, and laughed at flattery, biding its time, secure in its pride and its immeasurable strength.\n\nThis was the stronghold of Saruman, as fame reported it; for within living memory the men of Rohan had not passed its gates, save perhaps a few, such as Wormtongue, who came in secret and told no man what they saw.\n\nNow Gandalf rode to the great pillar of the Hand, and passed it; and as he did so the Riders saw to their wonder that the Hand appeared no longer white. It was stained as with dried blood; and looking closer they perceived that its nails were red. Unheeding Gandalf rode on into the mist, and reluctantly they followed him. All about them now, as if there had been a sudden flood, wide pools of water lay beside the road, filling the hollows, and rills went trickling down among the stones.\n\nAt last Gandalf halted and beckoned to them; and they came, and saw that beyond him the mists had cleared, and a pale sunlight shone. The hour of noon had passed. They were come to the doors of Isengard." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But the doors lay hurled and twisted on the ground. And all about, stone, cracked and splintered into countless jagged shards, was scattered far and wide, or piled in ruinous heaps. The great arch still stood, but it opened now upon a roofless chasm: the tunnel was laid bare, and through the cliff-like walls on either side great rents and breaches had been torn; their towers were beaten into dust. If the Great Sea had risen in wrath and fallen on the hills with storm, it could have worked no greater ruin.\n\nThe ring beyond was filled with steaming water: a bubbling cauldron, in which there heaved and floated a wreckage of beams and spars, chests and casks and broken gear. Twisted and leaning pillars reared their splintered stems above the flood, but all the roads were drowned. Far off, it seemed, half veiled in winding cloud, there loomed the island rock. Still dark and tall, unbroken by the storm, the tower of Orthanc stood. Pale waters lapped about its feet.\n\nThe king and all his company sat silent on their horses, marvelling, perceiving that the power of Saruman was overthrown; but how they could not guess. And now they turned their eyes towards the archway and the ruined gates. There they saw close beside them a great rubble-heap; and suddenly they were aware of two small figures lying on it at their ease, grey-clad, hardly to be seen among the stones. There were bottles and bowls and platters laid beside them, as if they had just eaten well, and now rested from their labour. One seemed asleep; the other, with crossed legs and arms behind his head, leaned back against a broken rock and sent from his mouth long wisps and little rings of thin blue smoke." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Fora moment Théoden and Éomer and all his men stared at them in wonder." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Amid all the wreck of Isengard this seemed to them the strangest sight. But before the king could speak, the small smoke-breathing figure became suddenly aware of them, as they sat there silent on the edge of the mist. He sprang to his feet. A young man he looked, or like one, though not much more than half a man in height; his head of brown curling hair was uncovered, but he was clad in a travel-stained cloak of the same hue and shape as the companions of Gandalf had worn when they rode to Edoras. He bowed very low, putting his hand upon his breast. Then, seeming not to observe the wizard and his friends, he turned to Éomer and the king.\n\n\"Welcome, my lords, to Isengard!\" he said. \"We are the doorwardens. Meriadoc, son of Saradoc is my name; and my companion, who, alas! is overcome with weariness\"– here he gave the other a dig with his foot– \"is Peregrin, son of Paladin, of the House of Took. Far in the North is our home. The Lord Saruman is within; but at the moment he is closeted with one Wormtongue, or doubtless he would be hereto welcome such honourable guests.\"\n\n\"Doubtless he would!\" laughed Gandalf. \"And was it Saruman that ordered you to guard his damaged doors, and watch for the arrival of guests, when your attention could be spared from plate and bottle?\"\n\n\"No, good sir, the matter escaped him,\" answered Merry gravely. \"He has been much occupied. Our orders came from Treebeard, who has taken over the management of Isengard. He commanded me to welcome the Lord of Rohan with fitting words. I have done my best.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"And what about your companions?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "What about Legolas and me?\" cried Gimli, unable to contain himself longer. \"You rascals, you woolly-footed and wool-pated truants! A fine hunt you have led us! Two hundred leagues, through fen and forest, battle and death, to rescue you! And here we find you feasting and idling– and smoking! Smoking! Where did you come by the weed, you villains? Hammer and tongs! I am so torn between rage and joy, that if I do not burst, it will be a marvel!\"\n\n\"You speak for me, Gimli,\" laughed Legolas. \"Though I would sooner learn how they came by the wine.\"\n\n\"One thing you have not found in your hunting, and that's brighter wits, \"said Pippin, opening an eye.\"Here you find us sitting on afield of victory, amid the plunder of armies, and you wonder how we came by a few well-earned comforts! '\n\n\"Well-earned?\" said Gimli. \"I cannot believe that!\"\n\nThe Riders laughed. \"It cannot be doubted that we witness the meeting of dear friends,\" said Théoden. \"So these are the lost ones of your company, Gandalf? The days are fated to be filled with marvels. Already I have seen many since I left my house; and nowhere before my eyes stand yet another of the folk of legend. Are not these the Halflings, that some among us call the Holbytlan?\"\n\n\"Hobbits, if you please, lord,\" said Pippin.\n\n\"Hobbits?\" said Théoden. \"Your tongue is strangely changed; but the name sounds not unfitting so. Hobbits! No report that I have heard does justice to the truth.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Merry bowed; and Pippin got up and bowed low." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You are gracious, lord; or I hope that I may so take your words,\" he said. \"And here is another marvel! I have wandered in many lands, since I left my home, and never till now have I found people that knew any story concerning hobbits.\"\n\n\"My people came out of the North long ago,\" said Théoden. \"But I will not deceive you: we know no tales about hobbits. All that is said among us is that faraway, over many hills and rivers, live the halfling folk that dwell in holes in sand-dunes. But there are no legends of their deeds, for it is said that they do little, and avoid the sight of men, being able to vanish in a twinkling; and they can change their voices to resemble the piping of birds. But it seems that more could be said.\"\n\n\"It could indeed, lord,\" said Merry.\n\n\"For one thing,\" said Théoden, \"I had not heard that they spouted smoke from their mouths.\"\n\n\"That is not surprising,\" answered Merry; \"for it is an art which we have not practised for more than a few generations. It was Tobold Hornblower, of Longbottom in the Southfarthing, who first grew the true pipe-weed in his gardens, about the year 1070 according to our reckoning. How old Toby came by the plant...\"\n\n\"You do not know your danger, Théoden,\" interrupted Gandalf. \"These hobbits will sit on the edge of ruin and discuss the pleasures of the table, or the small doings of their fathers, grandfathers, and great-grandfathers, and remoter cousins to the ninth degree, if you encourage them with undue patience. Some other time would be more fitting for the history of smoking. Where is Treebeard, Merry?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Away on the north side, I believe." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He went to get a drink– of clean water. Most of the other Ents are with him, still busy at their work– over there.\" Merry waved his hand towards the steaming lake; and as they looked, they heard a distant rumbling and rattling, as if an avalanche was falling from the mountain-side. Faraway came a hoom-hom, as of horns blowing triumphantly.\n\n\"And is Orthanc then left unguarded?\" asked Gandalf.\n\n\"There is the water,\" said Merry. \"But Quickbeam and some others are watching it. Not all those posts and pillars in the plain are of Saruman's planting. Quickbeam, I think, is by the rock, near the foot of the stair. '\n\n\"Yes, a tall grey Ent is there,\" said Legolas, \"but his arms are at his sides, and he stands as still as a door-tree.\"\n\n\"It is past noon,\" said Gandalf, \"and we at any rate have not eaten since early morning. Yet I wish to see Treebeard as soon as maybe. Did he leave me no message, or has plate and bottle driven it from your mind?\"\n\n\"He left a message,\" said Merry, \"and I was coming to it, but I have been hindered by many other questions. I was to say that, if the Lord of the Mark and Gandalf will ride to the northern wall they will find Treebeard there, and he will welcome them. I may add that they will also find food of the best there, it was discovered and selected by your humble servants.\" He bowed.\n\nGandalf laughed. \"That is better!\" he said. \"Well, Théoden, will you ride with me to find Treebeard? We must go roundabout, but it is not far. When you see Treebeard, you will learn much. For Treebeard is Fangorn, and the eldest and chief of the Ents, and when you speak with him you will hear the speech of the oldest of all living things.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I will come with you,\" said Théoden. \"Farewell, my hobbits! May we meet again in my house! There you shall sit beside me and tell me all that your hearts desire: the deeds of your grandsires, as far as you can reckon them; and we will speak also of Tobold the Old and his herb-lore. Farewell!\"\n\nThe hobbits bowed low. \"So that is the King of Rohan!\" said Pippin in an undertone. \"A fine old fellow. Very polite.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Helping the author, keep the tale going.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: J.R.R. Tolkien\nTitle: The Two Towers\nChapter: 19" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Let's find a place to lie up in, \"he said.\"Not lower down. Higher up for me. '\n\nA little way back above the lake they found a deep brown bed of last year's fern. Beyond it was a thicket of dark-leaved bay-trees climbing up a steep bank that was crowned with old cedars. Here they decided to rest and pass the day, which already promised to be bright and warm. A good day for strolling on their way along the groves and glades of Ithilien; but though Orcs may shun the sunlight, there were too many places here where they could lie hid and watch; and other evil eyes were abroad: Sauron had many servants. Gollum, in any case, would not move under the Yellow Face. Soon it would look over the dark ridges of the Ephel Dúath, and he would faint and cower in the light and heat.\n\nSam had been giving earnest thought to food as they marched. Now that the despair of the impassable Gate was behind him, he did not feel so inclined as his master to take no thought for their livelihood beyond the end of their errand; and anyway it seemed wiser to him to save the waybread of the Elves for worse times ahead. Six days or more had passed since he reckoned that they had only a bare supply for three weeks.\n\n\"If we reach the Fire in that time, we'll be lucky at this rate! \"he thought.\"And we might be wanting to get back. We might! '\n\nBesides, at the end of along night-march, and after bathing and drinking, he felt even more hungry than usual. A supper, or a breakfast, by the fire in the old kitchen at Bagshot Row was what he really wanted. An idea struck him and he turned to Gollum. Gollum had just begun to sneak off on his own, and he was crawling away on all fours through the fern." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Hi! Gollum!\" said Sam. \"Where are you going? Hunting? Well, see here, old noser, you don't like our food, and I'd not be sorry fora change myself. Your new motto's always ready to help. Could you find anything fit fora hungry hobbit? '\n\n\"Yes, perhaps, yes,\" said Gollum. \"Sméagol always helps, if they asks– if they asks nicely.\"\n\n\"Right!\" said Sam. \"I does ask. And if that isn't nice enough, I begs. '\n\nGollum disappeared. He was away sometime, and Frodo after a few mouthfuls of lembas settled deep into the brown fern and went to sleep. Sam looked at him. The early daylight was only just creeping down into the shadows under the trees, but he saw his master's face very clearly, and his hands, too, lying at rest on the ground beside him. He was reminded suddenly of Frodo as he had lain, asleep in the house of Elrond, after his deadly wound. Then as he had kept watch Sam had noticed that at times alight seemed to be shining faintly within; but now the light was even clearer and stronger. Frodo's face was peaceful, the marks of fear and care had left it; but it looked old, old and beautiful, as if the chiselling of the shaping years was now revealed in many fine lines that had before been hidden, though the identity of the face was not changed. Not that Sam Gamgee put it that way to himself. He shook his head, as if finding words useless, and murmured: \"I love him. He's like that, and sometimes it shines through, somehow. But I love him, whether or no. '\n\nGollum returned quietly and peered over Sam's shoulder. Looking at Frodo, he shut his eyes and crawled away without a sound. Sam came to him a moment later and found him chewing something and muttering to himself. On the ground beside him lay two small rabbits, which he was beginning to eye greedily." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Sméagol always helps,\" he said. \"He has brought rabbits, nice rabbits. But master has gone to sleep, and perhaps Sam wants to sleep. Doesn't want rabbits now? Sméagol tries to help, but he can't catch things all in a minute.\"\n\nSam, however, had no objection to rabbit at all, and said so. At least not to cooked rabbit. All hobbits, of course, can cook, for they begin to learn the art before their letters (which many never reach); but Sam was a good cook, even by hobbit reckoning, and he had done a good deal of the camp-cooking on their travels, when there was a chance. He still hopefully carried some of his gear in his pack: a small tinder-box, two small shallow pans, the smaller fitting into the larger; inside them a wooden spoon, a short two-pronged fork and some skewers were stowed; and hidden at the bottom of the pack in a flat wooden box a dwindling treasure, some salt. But he needed afire, and other things besides. He thought fora bit, while he took out his knife, cleaned and whetted it, and began to dress the rabbits. He was not going to leave Frodo alone asleep even fora few minutes.\n\n\"Now, Gollum,\" he said, \"I've another job for you. Go and fill these pans with water, and bring \"em back!\"\n\n\"Sméagol will fetch water, yes,\" said Gollum. \"But what does the hobbit want all that water for? He has drunk, he has washed.\"\n\n\"Never you mind,\" said Sam. \"If you can't guess, you'll soon find out. And the sooner you fetch the water, the sooner you'll learn. Don't you damage one of my pans, or I'll carve you into mincemeat. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "While Gollum was away Sam took another look at Frodo. He was still sleeping quietly, but Sam was now struck most by the leanness of his face and hands. \"Too thin and drawn he is,\" he muttered. \"Not right fora hobbit. If I can get these coneys cooked, I'm going to wake him up. '\n\nSam gathered a pile of the driest fern, and then scrambled up the bank collecting a bundle of twigs and broken wood; the fallen branch of a cedar at the top gave him a good supply. He cutout some turves at the foot of the bank just outside the fern-brake, and made a shallow hole and laid his fuel in it. Being handy with flint and tinder he soon had a small blaze going. It made little or no smoke but gave off an aromatic scent. He was just stooping over his fire, shielding it and building it up with heavier wood, when Gollum returned, carrying the pans carefully and grumbling to himself.\n\nHe set the pans down, and then suddenly saw what Sam was doing. He gave a thin hissing shriek, and seemed to be both frightened and angry. \"Ach! Sss– no!\" he cried. \"No! Silly hobbits, foolish, yes foolish! They mustn't do it! '\n\n\"Mustn't do what? ' asked Sam in surprise.\n\n\"Not make the nassty red tongues,\" hissed Gollum. \"Fire, fire! It's dangerous, yes it is. It burns, it kills. And it will bring enemies, yes it will. '\n\n\"I don't think so, \"said Sam.\"Don't see why it should, if you don't put wet stuff on it and make a smother. But if it does, it does. I'm going to risk it, anyhow. I'm going to stew these coneys. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Stew the rabbits!\" squealed Gollum in dismay. \"Spoil beautiful meat Sméagol saved for you, poor hungry Sméagol! What for? What for, silly hobbit? They are young, they are tender, they are nice. Eat them, eat them!\" He clawed at the nearest rabbit, already skinned and lying by the fire.\n\n\"Now, now!\" said Sam. \"Each to his own fashion. Our bread chokes you, and raw coney chokes me. If you give me a coney, the coney's mine, see, to cook, if I have a mind. And I have. You needn't watch me. Go and catch another and eat it as you fancy– somewhere private and out o\" my sight. Then you won't seethe fire, and I shan't see you, and we'll both be the happier. I'll seethe fire don't smoke, if that's any comfort to you. '\n\nGollum withdrew grumbling, and crawled into the fern. Sam busied himself with his pans. \"What a hobbit needs with coney,\" he said to himself, \"is some herbs and roots, especially taters– not to mention bread. Herbs we can manage, seemingly.\"\n\n\"Gollum!\" he called softly. \"Third time pays for all. I want some herbs.\" Gollum's head peeped out of the fern, but his looks were neither helpful nor friendly.\"A few bay-leaves, some thyme and sage, will do– before the water boils, ' said Sam.\n\n\"No!\" said Gollum. \"Sméagol is not pleased. And Sméagol doesn't like smelly leaves. He doesn't eat grasses or roots, no precious, not till he's starving or very sick, poor Sméagol. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Sméagol'll get into real true hot water, when this water boils, if he don't do as he's asked, \"growled Sam.\"Sam'll put his head in it, yes precious. And I'd make him look for turnips and carrots, and taters too, if it was the time o'the year. I'll bet there's all sorts of good things running wild in this country. I'd give a lot for half a dozen taters. '\n\n\"Sméagol won't go, Ono precious, not this time, \"hissed Gollum.\"He's frightened, and he's very tired, and this hobbit's not nice, not nice at all. Sméagol won't grub for roots and carrotses and– taters. What's taters, precious, eh, what's taters? '\n\n\"Po– ta– toes,\" said Sam. \"The Gaffer's delight, and rare good ballast for an empty belly. But you won't find any, so you needn't look. But be good Sméagol and fetch me the herbs, and I'll think better of you. What's more, if you turnover anew leaf, and keep it turned, I'll cook you some taters one of these days. I will: fried fish and chips served by S. Gamgee. You couldn't say no to that. '\n\n\"Yes, yes we could. Spoiling nice fish, scorching it. Give me fish now, and keep nassty chips!\"\n\n\"Oh you're hopeless, \"said Sam.\"Go to sleep! '\n\nIn the end he had to find what he wanted for himself; but he did not have to go far, not out of sight of the place where his master lay, still sleeping. Fora while Sam sat musing, and tending the fire till the water boiled. The daylight grew and the air became warm; the dew faded off turf and leaf. Soon the rabbits cutup lay simmering in their pans with the bunched herbs. Almost Sam fell asleep as the time went by. He let them stew for close on an hour, testing them now and again with his fork, and tasting the broth." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When he thought all was ready he lifted the pans off the fire, and crept along to Frodo. Frodo half opened his eyes as Sam stood over him, and then he wakened from his dreaming: another gentle, unrecoverable dream of peace.\n\n\"Hullo, Sam!\" he said. \"Not resting? Is anything wrong? What is the time?\"\n\n\"About a couple of hours after daybreak,\" said Sam, \"and nigh on half past eight by Shire clocks, maybe. But nothing's wrong. Though it ain't quite what I'd call right: no stock, no onions, no taters. I've got a bit of a stew for you, and some broth, Mr. Frodo. Do you good. You'll have to sup it in your mug; or straight from the pan, when it's cooled a bit. I haven't brought no bowls, nor nothing proper. '\n\nFrodo yawned and stretched. \"You should have been resting, Sam,\" he said. \"And lighting afire was dangerous in these parts. But I do feel hungry. Hmm! Can I smell it from here? What have you stewed?\"\n\n\"A present from Sméagol,\" said Sam: \"a brace o\" young coneys; though I fancy Gollum's regretting them now. But there's naught to go with them but a few herbs. '\n\nSam and his master sat just within the fern-brake and ate their stew from the pans, sharing the old fork and spoon. They allowed themselves half apiece of the Elvish waybread each. It seemed a feast.\n\n\"Wheew! Gollum!\" Sam called and whistled softly. \"Come on! Still time to change your mind. There's some left, if you want to try stewed coney. ' There was no answer." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh well, I suppose he's gone off to find something for himself. We'll finish it,\" said Sam.\n\n\"And then you must take some sleep,\" said Frodo.\n\n\"Don't you drop off, while I'm nodding, Mr. Frodo. I don't feel too sure of him. There's a good deal of Stinker– the bad Gollum, if you understand me– in him still, and it's getting stronger again. Not but what I think he'd try to throttle me first now. We don't see eye to eye, and he's not pleased with Sam, Ono precious, not pleased at all.\"\n\nThey finished, and Sam went off to the stream to rinse his gear. Ashe stood up to return, he looked backup the slope. At that moment he saw the sunrise out of the reek, or haze, or dark shadow, or whatever it was, that lay ever to the east, and it sent its golden beams down upon the trees and glades about him. Then he noticed a thin spiral of blue-grey smoke, plain to see as it caught the sunlight, rising from a thicket above him. With a shock he realized that this was the smoke from his little cooking-fire, which he had neglected to putout.\n\n\"That won't do! Never thought it would show like that! \"he muttered, and he started to hurry back. Suddenly he halted and listened. Had he heard a whistle or not? Or was it the call of some strange bird? If it was a whistle, it did not come from Frodo's direction. There it went again from another place! Sam began to run as well as he could uphill.\n\nHe found that a small brand, burning away to its outer end, had kindled some fern at the edge of the fire, and the fern blazing up had set the turves smouldering. Hastily he stamped out what was left of the fire, scattered the ashes, and laid the turves on the hole. Then he crept back to Frodo." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Did you hear a whistle, and what sounded like an answer?\" he asked. \"A few minutes back. I hope it was only a bird, but it didn't sound quite like that: more like somebody mimicking a bird-call, I thought. And I'm afraid my bit of fire's been smoking. Now if I've gone and brought trouble, I'll never forgive myself. Nor won't have a chance, maybe!\"\n\n\"Hush!\" whispered Frodo. \"I thought I heard voices.\"\n\nThe two hobbits trussed their small packs, put them on ready for flight, and then crawled deeper into the fern. There they crouched listening.\n\nThere was no doubt of the voices. They were speaking low and furtively, but they were near, and coming nearer. Then quite suddenly one spoke clearly close at hand.\n\n\"Here! Here is where the smoke came from!\" it said. \"\"Twill be nigh at hand. In the fern, no doubt. We shall have it like a coney in a trap. Then we shall learn what kind of thing it is. '\n\n\"Aye, and what it knows!\" said a second voice.\n\nAt once four men came striding through the fern from different directions. Since flight and hiding were no longer possible, Frodo and Sam sprang to their feet, putting back to back and whipping out their small swords.\n\nIf they were astonished at what they saw, their captors were even more astonished. Four tall Men stood there. Two had spears in their hands with broad bright heads. Two had great bows, almost of their own height, and great quivers of long green-feathered arrows. All had swords at their sides, and were clad in green and brown of varied hues, as if the better to walk unseen in the glades of Ithilien. Green gauntlets covered their hands, and their faces were hooded and masked with green, except for their eyes, which were very keen and bright. At once Frodo thought of Boromir, for these Men were like him in stature and bearing, and in their manner of speech." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We have not found what we sought,\" said one. \"But what have we found?\"\n\n\"Not Orcs,\" said another, releasing the hilt of his sword, which he had seized when he saw the glitter of Sting in Frodo's hand.\n\n\"Elves?\" said a third, doubtfully.\n\n\"Nay! Not Elves,\" said the fourth, the tallest, and as it appeared the chief among them. \"Elves do not walk in Ithilien in these days. And Elves are wondrous fair to look upon, or so'tis said. '\n\n\"Meaning we're not, I take you, \"said Sam.\"Thank you kindly. And when you've finished discussing us, perhaps you'll say who you are, and why you can't let two tired travellers rest.\"\n\nThe tall green man laughed grimly. \"I am Faramir, Captain of Gondor,\" he said. \"But there are no travellers in this land: only the servants of the Dark Tower, or of the White.\"\n\n\"But we are neither,\" said Frodo. \"And travellers we are, whatever Captain Faramir may say.\"\n\n\"Then make haste to declare yourselves and your errand,\" said Faramir. \"We have a work to do, and this is no time or place for riddling or parleying. Come! Where is the third of your company?\"\n\n\"The third?\"\n\n\"Yes, the skulking fellow that we saw with his nose in the pool down yonder. He had an ill-favoured look. Some spying breed of Orc, I guess, or a creature of theirs. But he gave us the slip by some fox-trick.\"\n\n\"I do not know where he is,\" said Frodo. \"He is only a chance companion met upon our road, and I am not answerable for him. If you come on him, spare him. Bring him or send him to us. He is only a wretched gangrel creature, but I have him under my care fora while. But as for us, we are Hobbits of the Shire, far to the North and West, beyond many rivers. Frodo son of Drogo is my name, and with me is Samwise son of Hamfast, a worthy hobbit in my service. We have come by longways– out of Rivendell, or Imladris as some call it.\" Here Faramir started and grew intent. \"Seven companions we had: one we lost at Moria, the others we left at Parth Galen above Rauros: two of my kin; a Dwarf there was also, and an Elf, and two Men. They were Aragorn; and Boromir, who said that he came out of Minas Tirith, a city in the South.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Boromir!\" all the four men exclaimed.\n\n\"Boromir son of the Lord Denethor?\" said Faramir, and a strange stern look came into his face. \"You came with him? That is news indeed, if it be true. Know, little strangers, that Boromir son of Denethor was High Warden of the White Tower, and our Captain-General: sorely do we miss him. Who are you then, and what had you to do with him? Be swift, for the Sun is climbing!\"\n\n\"Are the riddling words known to you that Boromir brought to Rivendell?\" Frodo replied.\n\n\"The words are known indeed,\" said Faramir in astonishment. \"It is some token of your truth that you also know them.\"\n\n\"Aragorn whom I named is the bearer of the Sword that was Broken,\" said Frodo. \"And we are the Halflings that the rhyme spoke of.\"\n\n\"That I see,\" said Faramir thoughtfully. \"Or I see that it might be so. And what is Isildur's Bane? '\n\n\"That is hidden,\" answered Frodo. \"Doubtless it will be made clear in time.\"\n\n\"We must learn more of this,\" said Faramir, \"and know what brings you so far east under the shadow of yonder-,\" he pointed and said no name. \"But not now. We have business in hand. You are in peril, and you would not have gone far by field or road this day. There will be hard handstrokes nigh at hand ere the day is full. Then death, or swift flight back to Anduin. I will leave two to guard you, for your good and for mine. Wise man trusts not to chance-meeting on the road in this land. If I return, I will speak more with you.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Farewell!\" said Frodo, bowing low. \"Think what you will, I am a friend of all enemies of the One Enemy. We would go with you, if we halfling folk could hope to serve you, such doughty men and strong as you seem, and if my errand permitted it. May the light shine on your swords!\"\n\n\"The Halflings are courteous folk, whatever else they be,\" said Faramir. \"Farewell!\"\n\nThe hobbits sat down again, but they said nothing to one another of their thoughts and doubts. Close by, just under the dappling shadow of the dark bay-trees, two men remained on guard. They took off their masks now and again to cool them, as the day-heat grew, and Frodo saw that they were goodly men, pale-skinned, dark of hair, with grey eyes and faces sad and proud. They spoke together in soft voices, at first using the Common Speech, but after the manner of older days, and then changing to another language of their own. To his amazement, as he listened Frodo became aware that it was the elven-tongue that they spoke, or one but little different; and he looked at them with wonder, for he knew then that they must be Dúnedain of the South, men of the line of the Lords of Westernesse.\n\nAfter awhile he spoke to them; but they were slow and cautious in answering. They named themselves Mablung and Damrod, soldiers of Gondor, and they were Rangers of Ithilien; for they were descended from folk who lived in Ithilien atone time, before it was overrun. From such men the Lord Denethor chose his forayers, who crossed the Anduin secretly (how or where, they would not say) to harry the Orcs and other enemies that roamed between the Ephel Dúath and the River." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It is close on ten leagues hence to the east-shore of Anduin,\" said Mablung, \"and we seldom come so far afield. But we have anew errand on this journey: we come to ambush the Men of Harad. Curse them!\"\n\n\"Aye, curse the Southrons!\" said Damrod. \"\"Tis said that there were dealings of old between Gondor and the kingdoms of the Harad in the Far South; though there was never friendship. In those days our bounds were away south beyond the mouths of Anduin, and Umbar, the nearest of their realms, acknowledged our sway. But that is long since. \"Tis many lives of Men since any passed to or fro between us. Now of late we have learned that the Enemy has been among them, and they are gone over to Him, or back to Him– they were ever ready to His will– as have so many also in the East. I doubt not that the days of Gondor are numbered, and the walls of Minas Tirith are doomed, so great is His strength and malice.\"\n\n\"But still we will not sit idle and let Him do all as He would,\" said Mablung. \"These cursed Southrons come now marching up the ancient roads to swell the hosts of the Dark Tower. Yea, up the very roads that craft of Gondor made. And they go evermore heedlessly, we learn, thinking that the power of their new master is great enough, so that the mere shadow of His hills will protect them. We come to teach them another lesson. Great strength of them was reported to us some days ago, marching north. One of their regiments is due by our reckoning to pass by, sometime ere noon– upon the road above, where it passes through the cloven way. The road may pass, but they shall not! Not while Faramir is Captain. He leads now in all perilous ventures. But his life is charmed, or fate spares him for some other end.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Their talk died down into a listening silence. All seemed still and watchful. Sam, crouched by the edge of the fern-brake, peered out. With his keen hobbit-eyes he saw that many more Men were about. He could see them stealing up the slopes, singly or in long files, keeping always to the shade of grove or thicket, or crawling, hardly visible in their brown and green raiment, through grass and brake. All were hooded and masked, and had gauntlets on their hands, and were armed like Faramir and his companions. Before long they had all passed and vanished. The sun rose till it neared the South. The shadows shrank.\n\n\"I wonder where that dratted Gollum is?\" thought Sam, as he crawled back into deeper shade. \"He stands a fair chance of being spitted for an Orc, or of being roasted by the Yellow Face. But I fancy he'll look after himself. ' He lay down beside Frodo and began to doze.\n\nHe woke, thinking that he had heard horns blowing. He sat up. It was now high noon. The guards stood alert and tense in the shadow of the trees. Suddenly the horns rang out louder and beyond mistake from above, over the top of the slope. Sam thought that he heard cries and wild shouting also, but the sound was faint, as if it came out of some distant cave. Then presently the noise of fighting broke out near at hand, just above their hiding-place. He could hear plainly the ringing grate of steel on steel, the clang of sword on iron cap, the dull beat of blade on shield; men were yelling and screaming, and one clear loud voice was calling Gondor! Gondor!\n\n\"It sounds like a hundred blacksmiths all smithying together,\" said Sam to Frodo. \"They're as near as I want them now. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But the noise grew closer. \"They are coming!\" cried Damrod. \"See! Some of the Southrons have broken from the trap and are flying from the road. There they go! Our men after them, and the Captain leading.\"\n\nSam, eager to see more, went now and joined the guards. He scrambled a little way up into one of the larger of the bay-trees. Fora moment he caught a glimpse of swarthy men in red running down the slope someway off with green-clad warriors leaping after them, hewing them down as they fled. Arrows were thick in the air. Then suddenly straight over the rim of their sheltering bank, a man fell, crashing through the slender trees, nearly on top of them. He came to rest in the fern a few feet away, face downward, green arrow-feathers sticking from his neck below a golden collar. His scarlet robes were tattered, his corslet of overlapping brazen plates was rent and hewn, his black plaits of hair braided with gold were drenched with blood. His brown hand still clutched the hilt of a broken sword.\n\nIt was Sam's first view of a battle of Men against Men, and he did not like it much. He was glad that he could not seethe dead face. He wondered what the man's name was and where he came from; and if he was really evil of heart, or what lies or threats had led him on the long march from his home; and if he would not really rather have stayed therein peace– all in a flash of thought which was quickly driven from his mind. For just as Mablung stepped towards the fallen body, there was anew noise. Great crying and shouting. Amidst it Sam heard a shrill bellowing or trumpeting. And then a great thudding and bumping, like huge rams dinning on the ground." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Ware! Ware!\" cried Damrod to his companion. \"May the Valar turn him aside! Mûmak! Mûmak!\"\n\nTo his astonishment and terror, and lasting delight, Sam saw avast shape crash out of the trees and come careering down the slope. Big as a house, much bigger than a house, it looked to him, a grey-clad moving hill. Fear and wonder, maybe, enlarged him in the hobbit's eyes, but the Mûmak of Harad was indeed a beast of vast bulk, and the like of him does not walk now in Middle-earth; his kin that live still in latter days are but memories of his girth and majesty. On he came, straight towards the watchers, and then swerved aside in the nick of time, passing only a few yards away, rocking the ground beneath their feet: his great legs like trees, enormous sail-like ears spread out, long snout upraised like a huge serpent about to strike, his small red eyes raging. His upturned hornlike tusks were bound with bands of gold and dripped with blood. His trappings of scarlet and gold flapped about him in wild tatters. The ruins of what seemed a very war-tower lay upon his heaving back, smashed in his furious passage through the woods; and high upon his neck still desperately clung a tiny figure– the body of a mighty warrior, a giant among the Swertings.\n\nOn the great beast thundered, blundering in blind wrath through pool and thicket. Arrows skipped and snapped harmlessly about the triple hide of his flanks. Men of both sides fled before him, but many he overtook and crushed to the ground. Soon he was lost to view, still trumpeting and stamping faraway. What became of him Sam never heard: whether he escaped to roam the wild fora time, until he perished far from his home or was trapped in some deep pit; or whether he raged on until he plunged in the Great River and was swallowed up." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sam drew a deep breath. \"An Oliphaunt it was!\" he said. \"So there are Oliphaunts, and I have seen one. What a life! But no one at home will ever believe me. Well, if that's over, I'll have a bit of sleep.\"\n\n\"Sleep while you may,\" said Mablung. \"But the Captain will return, if he is unhurt; and when he comes we shall depart swiftly. We shall be pursued as soon as news of our deed reaches the Enemy, and that will not belong.\"\n\n\"Go quietly when you must!\" said Sam. \"No need to disturb my sleep. I was walking all night.\"\n\nMablung laughed. \"I do not think the Captain will leave you here, Master Samwise,\" he said. \"But you shall see.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "THE WINDOW ON THE WEST\n\nIt seemed to Sam that he had only dozed fora few minutes when he awoke to find that it was late afternoon and Faramir had comeback. He had brought many men with him; indeed all the survivors of the foray were now gathered on the slope nearby, two or three hundred strong. They satin a wide semicircle, between the arms of which Faramir was seated on the ground, while Frodo stood before him. It looked strangely like the trial of a prisoner.\n\nSam crept out from the fern, but no one paid any attention to him, and he placed himself at the end of the rows of men, where he could see and hear all that was going on. He watched and listened intently, ready to dash to his master's aid if needed. He could see Faramir's face, which was now unmasked: it was stern and commanding, and a keen wit lay behind his searching glance. Doubt was in the grey eyes that gazed steadily at Frodo.\n\nSam soon became aware that the Captain was not satisfied with Frodo's account of himself at several points: what part he had to play in the Company that set out from Rivendell; why he had left Boromir; and where he was now going. In particular he returned often to Isildur's Bane. Plainly he saw that Frodo was concealing from him some matter of great importance.\n\n\"But it was at the coming of the Halfling that Isildur's Bane should waken, or so one must read the words, \"he insisted.\"If then you are the Halfling that was named, doubtless you brought this thing, whatever it maybe, to the Council of which you speak, and there Boromir saw it. Do you deny it? '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Frodo made no answer." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So!\" said Faramir. \"I wish then to learn from you more of it; for what concerns Boromir concerns me. An orc-arrow slew Isildur, so far as old tales tell. But orc-arrows are plenty, and the sight of one would not betaken as a sign of Doom by Boromir of Gondor. Had you this thing in keeping? It is hidden, you say; but is not that because you choose to hide it?\"\n\n\"No, not because I choose,\" answered Frodo. \"It does not belong tome. It does not belong to any mortal, great or small; though if any could claim it, it would be Aragorn son of Arathorn, whom I named, the leader of our Company from Moria to Rauros.\"\n\n\"Why so, and not Boromir, prince of the City that the sons of Elendil founded?\"\n\n\"Because Aragorn is descended indirect lineage, father to father, from Isildur Elendil's son himself. And the sword that he bears was Elendil's sword.\"\n\nA murmur of astonishment ran through all the ring of men. Some cried aloud: \"The sword of Elendil! The sword of Elendil comes to Minas Tirith! Great tidings!\" But Faramir's face was unmoved.\n\n\"Maybe,\" he said. \"But so great a claim will need to be established, and clear proofs will be required, should this Aragorn ever come to Minas Tirith. He had not come, nor any of your Company, when I set out six days ago.\"\n\n\"Boromir was satisfied of that claim,\" said Frodo. \"Indeed, if Boromir were here, he would answer all your questions. And since he was already at Rauros many days back, and intended then to go straight to your city, if you return, you may soon learn the answers there. My part in the Company was known to him, as to all the others, for it was appointed tome by Elrond of Imladris himself before the whole Council. On that errand I came into this country, but it is not mine to reveal to any outside the Company. Yet those who claim to oppose the Enemy would do well not to hinder it.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Frodo's tone was proud, whatever he felt, and Sam approved of it; but it did not appease Faramir.\n\n\"So!\" he said. \"You bid me mind my own affairs, and get me back home, and let you be. Boromir will tell all, when he comes. When he comes, say you! Were you a friend of Boromir?\"\n\nVividly before Frodo's mind came the memory of Boromir's assault upon him, and fora moment he hesitated. Faramir's eyes watching him grew harder.\"Boromir was a valiant member of our Company, \"said Frodo at length.\"Yes, I was his friend, for my part. '\n\nFaramir smiled grimly. \"Then you would grieve to learn that Boromir is dead?\"\n\n\"I would grieve indeed,\" said Frodo. Then catching the look in Faramir's eyes, he faltered.\"Dead? \"he said.\"Do you mean that he is dead, and that you knew it? You have been trying to trap me in words, playing with me? Or are you now trying to snare me with a falsehood? '\n\n\"I would not snare even an orc with a falsehood,\" said Faramir.\n\n\"How then did he die, and how do you know of it? Since you say that none of the Company had reached the city when you left.\"\n\n\"As to the manner of his death, I had hoped that his friend and companion would tell me how it was.\"\n\n\"But he was alive and strong when we parted. And he lives still for all that I know. Though surely there are many perils in the world.\"\n\n\"Many indeed,\" said Faramir, \"and treachery not the least.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sam had been getting more and more impatient and angry at this conversation. These last words were more than he could bear, and bursting into the middle of the ring, he strode up to his master's side.\n\n\"Begging your pardon, Mr. Frodo,\" he said, \"but this has gone on long enough. He's no right to talk to you so. After all you've gone through, as much for his good and all these great Men as for anyone else.\n\n\"See here, Captain!\" He planted himself squarely in front of Faramir, his hands on his hips, and a look on his face as if he was addressing a young hobbit who had offered him what he called \"sauce\" when questioned about visits to the orchard. There was some murmuring, but also some grins on the faces of the men looking on: the sight of their Captain sitting on the ground and eye to eye with a young hobbit, legs well apart, bristling with wrath, was one beyond their experience. \"See here!\" he said. \"What are you driving at? Let's come to the point before all the Orcs of Mordor comedown onus! If you think my master murdered this Boromir and then ran away, you've got no sense; but say it, and have done! And then let us know what you mean to do about it. But it's a pity that folk as talk about fighting the Enemy can't let others do their bit in their own way without interfering. He'd be mighty pleased, if he could see you now. Think he'd got anew friend, he would.\"\n\n\"Patience!\" said Faramir, but without anger. \"Do not speak before your master, whose wit is greater than yours. And I do not need any to teach me of our peril. Even so, I spare a brief time, in order to judge justly in a hard matter. Were I as hasty as you, I might have slain you long ago. For I am commanded to slay all whom I find in this land without the leave of the Lord of Gondor. But I do not slay manor beast needlessly, and not gladly even when it is needed. Neither do I talk in vain. So be comforted. Sit by your master, and be silent!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sam sat down heavily with a red face. Faramir turned to Frodo again. \"You asked how do I know that the son of Denethor is dead. Tidings of death have many wings. Night oft brings news to near kindred,\"tis said. Boromir was my brother. '\n\nA shadow of sorrow passed over his face. \"Do you remember aught of special mark that the Lord Boromir bore with him among his gear?\"\n\nFrodo thought fora moment, fearing some further trap, and wondering how this debate would turn in the end. He had hardly saved the Ring from the proud grasp of Boromir, and how he would fare now among so many men, warlike and strong, he did not know. Yet he felt in his heart that Faramir, though he was much like his brother in looks, was a man less self-regarding, both sterner and wiser. \"I remember that Boromir bore a horn,\" he said at last.\n\n\"You remember well, and as one who has in truth seen him,\" said Faramir. \"Then maybe you can see it in your mind's eye: a great horn of the wild ox of the East, bound with silver, and written with ancient characters. That horn the eldest son of our house has borne for many generations; and it is said that if it be blown at need anywhere within the bounds of Gondor, as the realm was of old, its voice will not pass unheeded.\n\n'Five days ere I set out on this venture, eleven days ago at about this hour of the day, I heard the blowing of that horn: from the northward it seemed, but dim, as if it were but an echo in the mind. A boding of ill we thought it, my father and I, for no tidings had we heard of Boromir since he went away, and no watcher on our borders had seen him pass. And on the third night after another and a stranger thing befell me." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "'I sat at night by the waters of Anduin, in the grey dark under the young pale moon, watching the ever-moving stream; and the sad reeds were rustling. So do we ever watch the shores nigh Osgiliath, which our enemies now partly hold, and issue from it to harry our lands. But that night all the world slept at the midnight hour. Then I saw, or it seemed that I saw, a boat floating on the water, glimmering grey, a small boat of a strange fashion with a high prow, and there was none to row or steer it.\n\n\"An awe fell on me, fora pale light was round it. But I rose and went to the bank, and began to walkout into the stream, for I was drawn towards it. Then the boat turned towards me, and stayed its pace, and floated slowly by within my hand's reach, yet I durst not handle it. It waded deep, as if it were heavily burdened, and it seemed tome as it passed under my gaze that it was almost filled with clear water, from which came the light; and lapped in the water a warrior lay asleep.\n\n\"A broken sword was on his knee. I saw many wounds on him. It was Boromir, my brother, dead. I knew his gear, his sword, his beloved face. One thing only I missed: his horn. One thing only I knew not: a fair belt, as it were of linked golden leaves, about his waist. Boromir! I cried. Where is thy horn? Whither goest thou? O Boromir! But he was gone. The boat turned into the stream and passed glimmering on into the night. Dreamlike it was, and yet no dream, for there was no waking. And I do not doubt that he is dead and has passed down the River to the Sea.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Alas!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "said Frodo. \"That was indeed Boromir as I knew him. For the golden belt was given to him in Lothlórien by the Lady Galadriel. She it was that clothed us as you see us, in elven-grey. This brooch is of the same workmanship.\" He touched the green and silver leaf that fastened his cloak beneath his throat.\n\nFaramir looked closely at it. \"It is beautiful,\" he said. \"Yes,\"tis work of the same craft. So then you passed through the Land of Lórien? Laurelindórenan it was named of old, but long now it has lain beyond the knowledge of Men, \"he added softly, regarding Frodo with anew wonder in his eyes.\"Much that was strange about you I begin now to understand. Will you not tell me more? For it is a bitter thought that Boromir died, within sight of the land of his home. '\n\n\"No more can I say than I have said,\" answered Frodo. \"Though your tale fills me with foreboding. A vision it was that you saw, I think, and no more, some shadow of evil fortune that has been or will be. Unless indeed it is some lying trick of the Enemy. I have seen the faces of fair warriors of old laid in sleep beneath the pools of the Dead Marshes, or seeming so by his foul arts.\"\n\n\"Nay, it was not so,\" said Faramir. \"For his works fill the heart with loathing; but my heart was filled with grief and pity.\"\n\n\"Yet how could such a thing have happened in truth?\" asked Frodo. \"For no boat could have been carried over the stony hills from Tol Brandir; and Boromir purposed to go home across the Entwash and the fields of Rohan. And yet how could any vessel ride the foam of the great falls and not founder in the boiling pools, though laden with water?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I know not,\" said Faramir." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But whence came the boat?\"\n\n\"From Lórien,\" said Frodo. \"In three such boats we rowed down Anduin to the Falls. They also were of elven-work.\"\n\n\"You passed through the Hidden Land,\" said Faramir, \"but it seems that you little understood its power. If Men have dealings with the Mistress of Magic who dwells in the Golden Wood, then they may look for strange things to follow. For it is perilous for mortal man to walkout of the world of this Sun, and few of old came thence unchanged,\"tis said.\n\n\"Boromir, O Boromir!\" he cried. \"What did she say to you, the Lady that dies not? What did she see? What woke in your heart then? Why went you ever to Laurelindórenan, and came not by your own road, upon the horses of Rohan riding home in the morning?\"\n\nThen turning again to Frodo, he spoke in a quiet voice once more. \"To those questions I guess that you could make some answer, Frodo son of Drogo. But not here or now, maybe. But lest you still should think my tale a vision, I will tell you this. The horn of Boromir at least returned in truth, and not in seeming. The horn came, but it was cloven in two, as it were by axe or sword. The shards came severally to shore: one was found among the reeds where watchers of Gondor lay, northwards below the infalls of the Entwash; the other was found spinning on the flood by one who had an errand on the water. Strange chances, but murder will out,\"tis said.\n\n\"And now the horn of the elder son lies in two pieces upon the lap of Denethor, sitting in his highchair, waiting for news. And you can tell me nothing of the cleaving of the horn?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No, I did not know of it,\" said Frodo. 'But the day when you heard it blowing, if your reckoning is true, was the day when we parted, when I and my servant left the Company. And now your tale fills me with dread. For if Boromir was then in peril and was slain, I must fear that all my companions perished too. And they were my kindred and my friends.\n\n'Will you not put aside your doubt of me and let me go? I am weary, and full of grief, and afraid. But I have a deed to do, or to attempt, before I too am slain. And the more need of haste, if we two halflings are all that remain of our fellowship.\n\n\"Go back, Faramir, valiant Captain of Gondor, and defend your city while you may, and let me go where my doom takes me.\"\n\n\"For me there is no comfort in our speech together,\" said Faramir; 'but you surely draw from it more dread than need be. Unless the people of Lórien themselves came to him, who arrayed Boromir as fora funeral? Not Orcs or servants of the Nameless. Some of your Company, I guess, live still.\n\n\"But whatever befell on the North March, you, Frodo, I doubt no longer. If hard days have made meany judge of Men's words and faces, then I may make a guess at Halflings! Though, \"and now he smiled,\"there is something strange about you, Frodo, an Elvish air, maybe. But more lies upon our words together than I thought at first. I should now take you back to Minas Tirith to answer thereto Denethor, and my life will justly be forfeit, if I now choose a course that proves ill for my city. So I will not decide in haste what is to be done. Yet we must move hence without more delay. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "He sprang to his feet and issued some orders." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At once the men who were gathered round him broke up into small groups, and went off this way and that, vanishing quickly into the shadows of the rocks and trees. Soon only Mablung and Damrod remained.\n\n\"Now you, Frodo and Samwise, will come with me and my guards,\" said Faramir. \"You cannot go along the road southwards, if that was your purpose. It will be unsafe for some days, and always more closely watched after this affray than it has been yet. And you cannot, I think, go far today in any case, for you are weary. And so are we. We are going now to a secret place we have, somewhat less than ten miles from here. The Orcs and spies of the Enemy have not found it yet, and if they did, we could hold it long even against many. There we may lie up and rest fora while, and you with us. In the morning I will decide what is best for me to do, and for you.\"\n\nThere was nothing for Frodo to do but to fall in with this request, or order. It seemed in any case a wise course for the moment, since this foray of the men of Gondor had made a journey in Ithilien more dangerous than ever.\n\nThey set out at once: Mablung and Damrod a little ahead, and Faramir with Frodo and Sam behind. Skirting the hither side of the pool where the hobbits had bathed, they crossed the stream, climbed along bank, and passed into green-shadowed woodlands that marched ever downwards and westwards. While they walked, as swiftly as the hobbits could go, they talked in hushed voices.\n\n\"I broke off our speech together,\" said Faramir, \"not only because time pressed, as Master Samwise had reminded me, but also because we were drawing near to matters that were better not debated openly before many men. It was for that reason that I turned rather to the matter of my brother and let be Isildur's Bane. You were not wholly frank with me, Frodo. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I told no lies, and of the truth all I could,\" said Frodo.\n\n\"I do not blame you,\" said Faramir. \"You spoke with skill in a hard place, and wisely, it seemed tome. But I learned or guessed more from you than your words said. You were not friendly with Boromir, or you did not part in friendship. You, and Master Samwise, too, I guess have some grievance. Now I loved him dearly, and would gladly avenge his death, yet I knew him well. Isildur's Bane– I would hazard that Isildur's Bane lay between you and was a cause of contention in your Company. Clearly it is a mighty heirloom of some sort, and such things do not breed peace among confederates, not if aught maybe learned from ancient tales. Do I not hit near the mark?\"\n\n\"Near,\" said Frodo, \"but not in the gold. There was no contention in our Company, though there was doubt: doubt which way we should take from the Emyn Muil. But be that as it may, ancient tales teach us also the peril of rash words concerning such things as– heirlooms.\"\n\n'Ah, then it is as I thought: your trouble was with Boromir alone. He wished this thing brought to Minas Tirith. Alas! it is a crooked fate that seals your lips who saw him last, and holds from me that which I long to know: what was in his heart and thought in his latest hours. Whether he erred or no, of this I am sure: he died well, achieving some good thing. His face was more beautiful even than in life.\n\n\"But, Frodo, I pressed you hard at first about Isildur's Bane. Forgive me! It was unwise in such an hour and place. I had not had time for thought. We had had a hard fight, and there was more than enough to fill my mind. But even as I spoke with you, I drew nearer to the mark, and so deliberately shot wider. For you must know that much is still preserved of ancient lore among the Rulers of the city that is not spread abroad. We of my house are not of the line of Elendil, though the blood of Númenor is in us. For we reckon back our line to Mardil, the good steward, who ruled in the king's stead when he went away to war. And that was King Ea¨ rnur, last of the line of Anárion, and childless, and he came never back. And the stewards have governed the city since that day, though it was many generations of Men ago." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"And this I remember of Boromir as a boy, when we together learned the tale of our sires and the history of our city, that always it displeased him that his father was not king.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"How many hundreds of years needs it to make a steward a king, if the king returns not?\"\"he asked.\"\"Few years, maybe, in other places of less royalty,\"\"my father answered.\"\"In Gondor ten thousand years would not suffice.\"\"Alas! poor Boromir. Does that not tell you something of him?\"\n\n\"It does,\" said Frodo. \"Yet always he treated Aragorn with honour.\"\n\n\"I doubt it not,\" said Faramir. \"If he were satisfied of Aragorn's claim, as you say, he would greatly reverence him. But the pinch had not yet come. They had not yet reached Minas Tirith or become rivals in her wars.\n\n\"But I stray. We in the house of Denethor know much ancient lore by long tradition, and there are moreover in our treasuries many things preserved: books and tablets writ on withered parchments, yea, and on stone, and on leaves of silver and of gold, in divers characters. Some none can now read; and for the rest, few ever unlock them. I can read a little in them, for I have had teaching. It was these records that brought the Grey Pilgrim to us. I first saw him when I was a child, and he has been twice or thrice since then.\"\n\n\"The Grey Pilgrim?\" said Frodo. \"Had he a name?\"\n\n\"Mithrandir we called him in elf-fashion,\" said Faramir, \"and he was content. Many are my names in many countries, he said. Mithrandir among the Elves, Tharkûn to the Dwarves; Olórin I was in my youth in the West that is forgotten, in the South Incánus, in the North Gandalf; to the East I go not.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Gandalf!\" said Frodo. \"I thought it was he. Gandalf the Grey, dearest of counsellors. Leader of our Company. He was lost in Moria.\"\n\n\"Mithrandir was lost!\" said Faramir. \"An evil fate seems to have pursued your fellowship. It is hard indeed to believe that one of so great wisdom, and of power– for many wonderful things he did among us– could perish, and so much lore betaken from the world. Are you sure of this, and that he did not just leave you and depart where he would?\"\n\n\"Alas! yes,\" said Frodo. \"I saw him fall into the abyss.\"\n\n\"I see that there is some great tale of dread in this,\" said Faramir, \"which perhaps you may tell me in the evening-time. This Mithrandir was, I now guess, more than a lore-master: a great mover of the deeds that are done in our time. Had he been among us to consult concerning the hard words of our dream, he could have made them clear to us without need of messenger. Yet, maybe, he would not have done so, and the journey of Boromir was doomed. Mithrandir never spoke to us of what was to be, nor did he reveal his purposes. He got leave of Denethor, how I do not know, to look at the secrets of our treasury, and I learned a little of him, when he would teach (and that was seldom). Ever he would search and would question us above all else concerning the Great Battle that was fought upon Dagorlad in the beginning of Gondor, when He whom we do not name was overthrown. And he was eager for stories of Isildur, though of him we had less to tell; for nothing certain was ever known among us of his end.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Now Faramir's voice sank to a whisper.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But this much I learned, or guessed, and I have kept it ever secret in my heart since: that Isildur took somewhat from the hand of the Unnamed, ere he went away from Gondor, never to be seen among mortal men again. Here I thought was the answer to Mithrandir's questioning. But it seemed then a matter that concerned only the seekers after ancient learning. Nor when the riddling words of our dream were debated among us, did I think of Isildur's Bane as being this same thing. For Isildur was ambushed and slain by orc-arrows, according to the only legend that we knew, and Mithrandir had never told me more.\n\n'What in truth this Thing is I cannot yet guess; but some heirloom of power and peril it must be. A fell weapon, perchance, devised by the Dark Lord. If it were a thing that gave advantage in battle, I can well believe that Boromir, the proud and fearless, often rash, ever anxious for the victory of Minas Tirith (and his own glory therein), might desire such a thing and be allured by it. Alas that ever he went on that errand! I should have been chosen by my father and the elders, but he put himself forward, as being the older and the hardier (both true), and he would not be stayed.\n\n\"But fear no more! I would not take this thing, if it lay by the highway. Not were Minas Tirith falling in ruin and I alone could save her, so, using the weapon of the Dark Lord for her good and my glory. No, I do not wish for such triumphs, Frodo son of Drogo.\"\n\n\"Neither did the Council,\" said Frodo. \"Nor do I. I would have nothing to do with such matters.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"For myself,\" said Faramir, 'I would seethe White Tree in flower again in the courts of the kings, and the Silver Crown return, and Minas Tirith in peace: Minas Anor again as of old, full of light, high and fair, beautiful as a queen among other queens: not a mistress of many slaves, nay, not even a kind mistress of willing slaves." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend: the city of the Men of Númenor; and I would have her loved for her memory, her ancientry, her beauty, and her present wisdom. Not feared, save as men may fear the dignity of a man, old and wise.\n\n\"So fear me not! I do not ask you to tell me more. I do not even ask you to tell me whether I now speak nearer the mark. But if you will trust me, it maybe that I can advise you in your present quest, whatever that be– yes, and even aid you.\"\n\nFrodo made no answer. Almost he yielded to the desire for help and counsel, to tell this grave young man, whose words seemed so wise and fair, all that was in his mind. But something held him back. His heart was heavy with fear and sorrow: if he and Sam were indeed, as seemed likely, all that was now left of the Nine Walkers, then he was insole command of the secret of their errand. Better mistrust undeserved than rash words. And the memory of Boromir, of the dreadful change that the lure of the Ring had worked in him, was very present to his mind, when he looked at Faramir and listened to his voice: unlike they were, and yet also much akin.\n\nThey walked on in silence fora while, passing like grey and green shadows under the old trees, their feet making no sound; above them many birds sang, and the sun glistened on the polished roof of dark leaves in the evergreen woods of Ithilien.\n\nSam had taken no part in the conversation, though he had listened; and at the same time he had attended with his keen hobbit ears to all the soft woodland noises about them. One thing he had noted, that in all the talk the name of Gollum had not once come up. He was glad, though he felt that it was too much to hope that he would never hear it again. He soon became aware also that though they walked alone, there were many men close at hand: not only Damrod and Mablung flitting in and out of the shadows ahead, but others on either side, all making their swift secret way to some appointed place." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Once, looking suddenly back, as if some prickle of the skin told him that he was watched from behind, he thought he caught a brief glimpse of a small dark shape slipping behind a tree-trunk. He opened his mouth to speak and shut it again. \"I'm not sure of it, \"he said to himself,\"and why should I remind them of the old villain, if they choose to forget him? I wish I could! '\n\nSo they passed on, until the woodlands grew thinner and the land began to fall more steeply. Then they turned aside again, to the right, and came quickly to a small river in a narrow gorge: it was the same stream that trickled far above out of the round pool, now grown to a swift torrent, leaping down over many stones in a deep-cloven bed, overhung with ilex and dark box-woods. Looking west they could see, below them in a haze of light, lowlands and broad meads, and glinting far off in the westering sun the wide waters of the Anduin.\n\n\"Here, alas! I must do you a discourtesy,\" said Faramir. \"I hope you will pardon it to one who has so far made his orders give way to courtesy as not to slay you or to bind you. But it is a command that no stranger, not even one of Rohan that fights with us, shall seethe path we now go with open eyes. I must blindfold you.\"\n\n\"As you will,\" said Frodo. \"Even the Elves do likewise at need, and blindfolded we crossed the borders of fair Lothlórien. Gimli the dwarf took it ill, but the hobbits endured it.\"\n\n\"It is to no place so fair that I shall lead you,\" said Faramir." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But I am glad that you will take this willingly and not by force.\"\n\nHe called softly and immediately Mablung and Damrod stepped out of the trees and came back to him. \"Blindfold these guests,\" said Faramir. \"Securely, but not so as to discomfort them. Do not tie their hands. They will give their word not to try and see. I could trust them to shut their eyes of their own accord, but eyes will blink, if the feet stumble. Lead them so that they do not falter.\"\n\nWith green scarves the two guards now bound up the hobbits' eyes, and drew their hoods down almost to their mouths; then quickly they took each one by the hand and went on their way. All that Frodo and Sam knew of this last mile of the road they learned from guessing in the dark. After a little they found that they were on a path descending steeply; soon it grew so narrow that they went in single file, brushing a stony wall on either side; their guards steered them from behind with hands laid firmly on their shoulders. Now and again they came to rough places and were lifted from their feet fora while, and then set down again. Always the noise of the running water was on their right hand, and it grew nearer and louder. At length they were halted. Quickly Mablung and Damrod turned them about, several times, and they lost all sense of direction. They climbed upwards a little: it seemed cold and the noise of the stream had become faint. Then they were picked up and carried down, down many steps, and round a corner. Suddenly they heard the water again, loud now, rushing and splashing. All round them it seemed, and they felt a fine rain on their hands and cheeks. At last they were set on their feet once more. Fora moment they stood so, half fearful, blindfold, not knowing where they were; and no one spoke." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then came the voice of Faramir close behind. \"Let them see!\" he said. The scarves were removed and their hoods drawn back, and they blinked and gasped.\n\nThey stood on a wet floor of polished stone, the doorstep, as it were, of a rough-hewn gate of rock opening dark behind them. But in front a thin veil of water was hung, so near that Frodo could have put an outstretched arm into it. It faced westward. The level shafts of the setting sun behind beat upon it, and the red light was broken into many flickering beams of ever-changing colour. It was as if they stood at the window of some elven-tower, curtained with threaded jewels of silver and gold, and ruby, sapphire and amethyst, all kindled with an unconsuming fire.\n\n\"At least by good chance we came at the right hour to reward you for your patience,\" said Faramir. \"This is the Window of the Sunset, Henneth Annûn, fairest of all the falls of Ithilien, land of many fountains. Few strangers have ever seen it. But there is no kingly hall behind to match it. Enter now and see!\"\n\nEven as he spoke the sun sank, and the fire faded in the flowing water. They turned and passed under the low forbidding arch. At once they found themselves in a rock-chamber, wide and rough, with an uneven stooping roof. A few torches were kindled and cast a dim light on the glistening walls. Many men were already there. Others were still coming in by twos and threes through a dark narrow door on one side. As their eyes grew accustomed to the gloom the hobbits saw that the cave was larger than they had guessed and was filled with great store of arms and victuals." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well, here is our refuge,\" said Faramir. \"Not a place of great ease, but here you may pass the night in peace. It is dry at least, and there is food, though no fire. Atone time the water flowed down through this cave and out of the arch, but its course was changed further up the gorge, by workmen of old, and the stream sent down in a fall of doubled height over the rocks far above. All the ways into this grot were then sealed against the entry of water or aught else, all save one. There are now but two ways out: that passage yonder by which you entered blindfold, and through the Window-curtain into a deep bowl filled with knives of stone. Now rest awhile, until the evening meal is set.\"\n\nThe hobbits were taken to a corner and given a low bed to lie on, if they wished. Meanwhile men busied themselves about the cave, quietly and in orderly quickness. Light tables were taken from the walls and setup on trestles and laden with gear. This was plain and unadorned for the most part, but all well and fairly made: round platters, bowls and dishes of glazed brown clay or turned box-wood, smooth and clean. Here and there was a cup or basin of polished bronze; and a goblet of plain silver was set by the Captain's seat in the middle of the inmost table.\n\nFaramir went about among the men, questioning each as he came in, in a soft voice. Some came back from the pursuit of the Southrons; others, left behind as scouts near the road, came in latest. All the Southrons had been accounted for, save only the great mûmak: what happened to him none could say. Of the enemy no movement could be seen; not even an orc-spy was abroad." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Assist with the plot and keep the story going.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: J.R.R. Tolkien\nTitle: The Two Towers\nChapter: 20" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well, here is our refuge,\" said Faramir. \"Not a place of great ease, but here you may pass the night in peace. It is dry at least, and there is food, though no fire. Atone time the water flowed down through this cave and out of the arch, but its course was changed further up the gorge, by workmen of old, and the stream sent down in a fall of doubled height over the rocks far above. All the ways into this grot were then sealed against the entry of water or aught else, all save one. There are now but two ways out: that passage yonder by which you entered blindfold, and through the Window-curtain into a deep bowl filled with knives of stone. Now rest awhile, until the evening meal is set.\"\n\nThe hobbits were taken to a corner and given a low bed to lie on, if they wished. Meanwhile men busied themselves about the cave, quietly and in orderly quickness. Light tables were taken from the walls and setup on trestles and laden with gear. This was plain and unadorned for the most part, but all well and fairly made: round platters, bowls and dishes of glazed brown clay or turned box-wood, smooth and clean. Here and there was a cup or basin of polished bronze; and a goblet of plain silver was set by the Captain's seat in the middle of the inmost table.\n\nFaramir went about among the men, questioning each as he came in, in a soft voice. Some came back from the pursuit of the Southrons; others, left behind as scouts near the road, came in latest. All the Southrons had been accounted for, save only the great mûmak: what happened to him none could say. Of the enemy no movement could be seen; not even an orc-spy was abroad." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You saw and heard nothing, Anborn?\" Faramir asked of the latest comer.\n\n\"Well, no, lord,\" said the man. \"No Orc at least. But I saw, or thought I saw, something a little strange. It was getting deep dusk, when the eyes make things greater than they should be. So perhaps it may have been no more than a squirrel.\" Sam pricked up his ears at this. \"Yet if so, it was a black squirrel, and I saw no tail.\"Twas like a shadow on the ground, and it whisked behind a tree-trunk when I drew nigh and went up aloft as swift as any squirrel could. You will not have us slay wild beasts for no purpose, and it seemed no more, so I tried no arrow. It was too dark for sure shooting anyway, and the creature was gone into the gloom of the leaves in a twinkling. But I stayed fora while, for it seemed strange, and then I hastened back. I thought I heard the thing hiss at me from high above as I turned away. A large squirrel, maybe. Perhaps under the shadow of the Unnamed some of the beasts of Mirkwood are wandering hitherto our woods. They have black squirrels there, \"tis said.\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" said Faramir. \"But that would bean ill omen, if it were so. We do not want the escapes of Mirkwood in Ithilien.\" Sam fancied that he gave a swift glance towards the hobbits as he spoke; but Sam said nothing. Fora while he and Frodo lay back and watched the torchlight, and the men moving to and fro speaking in hushed voices. Then suddenly Frodo fell asleep.\n\nSam struggled with himself, arguing this way and that. \"He maybe all right,\" he thought, \"and then he may not. Fair speech may hide afoul heart.\" He yawned. \"I could sleep fora week, and I'd be better for it. And what can I do, if I do keep awake, me all alone, and all these great Men about? Nothing, Sam Gamgee; but you've got to keep awake all the same.\" And somehow he managed it. The light faded from the cave door, and the grey veil of falling water grew dim and was lost in gathering shadow. Always the sound of the water went on, never changing its note, morning or evening or night. It murmured and whispered of sleep. Sam stuck his knuckles in his eyes." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Now more torches were being lit. A cask of wine was broached. Storage barrels were being opened. Men were fetching water from the fall. Some were laving their hands in basins. A wide copper bowl and a white cloth were brought to Faramir and he washed.\n\n\"Wake our guests,\" he said, \"and take them water. It is time to eat.\"\n\nFrodo sat up and yawned and stretched. Sam, not used to being waited on, looked with some surprise at the tall man who bowed, holding a basin of water before him.\n\n\"Put it on the ground, master, if you please!\" he said. \"Easier for me and you.\" Then to the astonishment and amusement of the Men he plunged his head into the cold water and splashed his neck and ears.\n\n\"Is it the custom in your land to wash the head before supper?\" said the man who waited on the hobbits.\n\n\"No, before breakfast,\" said Sam. \"But if you're short of sleep cold water on the neck's like rain on a wilted lettuce. There! Now I can keep awake long enough to eat a bit.\"\n\nThey were led then to seats beside Faramir: barrels covered with pelts and high enough above the benches of the Men for their convenience. Before they ate, Faramir and all his men turned and faced west in a moment of silence. Faramir signed to Frodo and Sam that they should do likewise.\n\n\"So we always do,\" he said, as they sat down: \"we look towards Númenor that was, and beyond to Elvenhome that is, and to that which is beyond Elvenhome and will ever be. Have you no such custom at meat?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Frodo, feeling strangely rustic and untutored. \"But if we are guests, we bow to our host, and after we have eaten we rise and thank him.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That we do also,\" said Faramir.\n\nAfter so long journeying and camping, and days spent in the lonely wild, the evening meal seemed a feast to the hobbits: to drink pale yellow wine, cool and fragrant, and eat bread and butter, and salted meats, and dried fruits, and good red cheese, with clean hands and clean knives and plates. Neither Frodo nor Sam refused anything that was offered, nor a second, nor indeed a third helping. The wine coursed in their veins and tired limbs, and they felt glad and easy of heart as they had not done since they left the land of Lórien.\n\nWhen all was done Faramir led them to a recess at the back of the cave, partly screened by curtains; and a chair and two stools were brought there. A little earthenware lamp burned in a niche.\n\n\"You may soon desire to sleep,\" he said, \"and especially good Samwise, who would not close his eyes before he ate– whether for fear of blunting the edge of a noble hunger, or for fear of me, I do not know. But it is not good to sleep too soon after meat, and that following a fast. Let us talk awhile. On your journey from Rivendell there must have been many things to tell. And you, too, would perhaps wish to learn something of us and the lands where you now are. Tell me of Boromir my brother, and of old Mithrandir, and of the fair people of Lothlórien.\"\n\nFrodo no longer felt sleepy and he was willing to talk. But though the food and wine had put him at his ease, he had not lost all his caution. Sam was beaming and humming to himself, but when Frodo spoke he was at first content to listen, only occasionally venturing to make an exclamation of agreement." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Frodo told many tales, yet always he steered the matter away from the quest of the Company and from the Ring, enlarging rather on the valiant part Boromir had played in all their adventures, with the wolves of the wild, in the snows under Caradhras, and in the mines of Moria where Gandalf fell. Faramir was most moved by the story of the fight on the bridge.\n\n\"It must have irked Boromir to run from Orcs,\" he said, \"or even from the fell thing you name, the Balrog– even though he was the last to leave.\"\n\n\"He was the last,\" said Frodo, \"but Aragorn was forced to lead us. He alone knew the way after Gandalf's fall. But had there not been us lesser folk to care for, I do not think that either he or Boromir would have fled. '\n\n\"Maybe, it would have been better had Boromir fallen therewith Mithrandir,\" said Faramir, \"and not gone onto the fate that waited above the falls of Rauros.\"\n\n\"Maybe. But tell me now of your own fortunes,\" said Frodo, turning the matter aside once again. \"For I would learn more of Minas Ithil and Osgiliath, and Minas Tirith the long-enduring. What hope have you for that city in your long war?\"\n\n\"What hope have we?\" said Faramir. 'It is long since we had any hope. The sword of Elendil, if it returns indeed, may rekindle it, but I do not think that it will do more than put off the evil day, unless other help unlooked-for also comes, from Elves or Men. For the Enemy increases and we decrease. We area failing people, a springless autumn." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "'The Men of Númenor were settled far and wide on the shores and seaward regions of the Great Lands, but for the most part they fell into evils and follies. Many became enamoured of the Darkness and the black arts; some were given over wholly to idleness and ease, and some fought among themselves, until they were conquered in their weakness by the wild men.\n\n'It is not said that evil arts were ever practised in Gondor, or that the Nameless One was ever named in honour there; and the old wisdom and beauty brought out of the West remained long in the realm of the sons of Elendil the Fair, and they linger there still. Yet even so it was Gondor that brought about its own decay, falling by degrees into dotage, and thinking that the Enemy was asleep, who was only banished not destroyed.\n\n'Death was ever present, because the Númenóreans still, as they had in their old kingdom, and so lost it, hungered after endless life unchanging. Kings made tombs more splendid than houses of the living, and counted old names in the rolls of their descent dearer than the names of sons. Childless lords satin aged halls musing on heraldry; in secret chambers withered men compounded strong elixirs, or in high cold towers asked questions of the stars. And the last king of the line of Anárion had no heir.\n\n'But the stewards were wiser and more fortunate. Wiser, for they recruited the strength of our people from the sturdy folk of the sea-coast, and from the hardy mountaineers of Ered Nimrais. And they made a truce with the proud peoples of the North, who often had assailed us, men of fierce valour, but our kin from afar off, unlike the wild Easterlings or the cruel Haradrim." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "'So it came to pass in the days of Cirion the Twelfth Steward (and my father is the six and twentieth) that they rode to our aid and at the great Field of Celebrant they destroyed our enemies that had seized our northern provinces. These are the Rohirrim, as we name them, masters of horses, and we ceded to them the fields of Calenardhon that are since called Rohan; for that province had long been sparsely peopled. And they became our allies, and have ever proved true to us, aiding us at need, and guarding our northern marches and the Gap of Rohan.\n\n'Of our lore and manners they have learned what they would, and their lords speak our speech at need; yet for the most part they hold by the ways of their own fathers and to their own memories, and they speak among themselves their own North tongue. And we love them: tall men and fair women, valiant both alike, golden-haired, bright-eyed, and strong; they remind us of the youth of Men, as they were in the Elder Days. Indeed it is said by our lore-masters that they have from of old this affinity with us that they are come from those same Three Houses of Men as were the Númenóreans in their beginning; not from Hador the Goldenhaired, the Elf-friend, maybe, yet from such of his people as went not over Sea into the West, refusing the call.\n\n'For so we reckon Men in our lore, calling them the High, or Men of the West, which were Númenóreans; and the Middle Peoples, Men of the Twilight, such as are the Rohirrim and their kin that dwell still far in the North; and the Wild, the Men of Darkness.\n\n\"Yet now, if the Rohirrim are grown in someways more like to us, enhanced in arts and gentleness, we too have become more like to them, and can scarce claim any longer the title High. We are become Middle Men, of the Twilight, but with memory of other things. For as the Rohirrim do, we now love war and valour as things good in themselves, both a sport and an end; and though we still hold that a warrior should have more skills and knowledge than only the craft of weapons and slaying, we esteem a warrior, nonetheless, above men of other crafts. Such is the need of our days. So even was my brother, Boromir: a man of prowess, and for that he was accounted the best man in Gondor. And very valiant indeed he was: no heir of Minas Tirith has for long years been so hardy in toil, so onward into battle, or blown a mightier note on the Great Horn.\" Faramir sighed and fell silent fora while." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You don't say much in all your tales about the Elves, sir, \"said Sam, suddenly plucking up courage. He had noted that Faramir seemed to refer to Elves with reverence, and this even more than his courtesy, and his food and wine, had won Sam's respect and quieted his suspicions.\n\n\"No indeed, Master Samwise,\" said Faramir, 'for I am not learned in Elven-lore. But there you touch upon another point in which we have changed, declining from Númenor to Middle-earth. For as you may know, if Mithrandir was your companion and you have spoken with Elrond, the Edain, the Fathers of the Númenóreans, fought beside the Elves in the first wars, and were rewarded by the gift of the kingdom in the midst of the Sea, within sight of Elven-home. But in Middle-earth Men and Elves became estranged in the days of darkness, by the arts of the Enemy, and by the slow changes of time in which each kind walked further down their sundered roads. Men now fear and misdoubt the Elves, and yet know little of them. And we of Gondor grow like other Men, like the men of Rohan; for even they, who are foes of the Dark Lord, shun the Elves and speak of the Golden Wood with dread.\n\n\"Yet there are among us still some who have dealings with the Elves when they may, and ever and anon one will go in secret to Lórien, seldom to return. Not I. For I deem it perilous now for mortal man wilfully to seek out the Elder People. Yet I envy you that have spoken with the White Lady.\"\n\n\"The Lady of Lórien! Galadriel!\" cried Sam. \"You should see her, indeed you should, sir. I am only a hobbit, and gardening's my job at home, sir, if you understand me, and I'm not much good at poetry– not at making it: a bit of a comic rhyme, perhaps, now and again, you know, but not real poetry– so I can't tell you what I mean. It ought to be sung. You'd have to get Strider, Aragorn that is, or old Mr. Bilbo, for that. But I wish I could make a song about her. Beautiful she is, sir! Lovely! Sometimes like a great tree in flower, sometimes like a white daffadowndilly, small and slender like. Hard as di'monds, soft as moonlight. Warm as sunlight, cold as frost in the stars. Proud and far-off as a snow-mountain, and as merry as any lass I ever saw with daisies in her hair in springtime. But that's a lot o\" nonsense, and all wide of my mark. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Then she must be lovely indeed,\" said Faramir. \"Perilously fair.\"\n\n\"I don't know about perilous, \"said Sam.\"It strikes me that folk takes their peril with them into Lórien, and finds it there because they've brought it. But perhaps you could call her perilous, because she's so strong in herself. You, you could dash yourself to pieces on her, like a ship on a rock; or drownd yourself, like a hobbit in a river. But neither rock nor river would be to blame. Now Boro-' He stopped and went red in the face.\n\n\"Yes? Now Boromir you would say?\" said Faramir. \"What would you say? He took his peril with him?\"\n\n\"Yes sir, begging your pardon, and a fine man as your brother was, if I may say so. But you've been warm on the scent all along. Now I watched Boromir and listened to him, from Rivendell all down the road– looking after my master, as you'll understand, and not meaning any harm to Boromir– and it's my opinion that in Lórien he first saw clearly what I guessed sooner: what he wanted. From the moment he first saw it he wanted the Enemy's Ring!\"\n\n\"Sam!\" cried Frodo aghast. He had fallen deep into his own thoughts fora while, and came out of them suddenly and too late.\n\n\"Save me!\" said Sam turning white, and then flushing scarlet. 'There I go again! Whenever you open your bigmouth you put your foot in it the Gaffer used to say tome, and right enough. O dear, O dear!\n\n\"Now look here, sir!\" He turned, facing up to Faramir with all the courage that he could muster. \"Don't you go taking advantage of my master because his servant's no better than a fool. You've spoken very handsome all along, put me off my guard, talking of Elves and all. But handsomeis as handsome does we say. Now's a chance to show your quality.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So it seems,\" said Faramir, slowly and very softly, with a strange smile. \"So that is the answer to all the riddles! The One Ring that was thought to have perished from the world. And Boromir tried to take it by force? And you escaped? And ran all the way– tome! And herein the wild I have you: two halflings, and a host of men at my call, and the Ring of Rings. A pretty stroke of fortune! A chance for Faramir, Captain of Gondor, to show his quality! Ha!\" He stood up, very tall and stern, his grey eyes glinting.\n\nFrodo and Sam sprang from their stools and set themselves side by side with their backs to the wall, fumbling for their sword-hilts. There was a silence. All the men in the cave stopped talking and looked towards them in wonder. But Faramir sat down again in his chair and began to laugh quietly, and then suddenly became grave again.\n\n\"Alas for Boromir! It was too sore atrial!\" he said. 'How you have increased my sorrow, you two strange wanderers from afar country, bearing the peril of Men! But you are less judges of Men than I of Halflings. We are truth-speakers, we men of Gondor. We boast seldom, and then perform, or die in the attempt. Not if I found it on the highway would I take it I said. Even if I were such a man as to desire this thing, and even though I knew not clearly what this thing was when I spoke, still I should take those words as avow, and beheld by them.\n\n\"But I am not such a man. Or I am wise enough to know that there are some perils from which a man must flee. Sit at peace! And be comforted, Samwise. If you seem to have stumbled, think that it was fated to be so. Your heart is shrewd as well as faithful, and saw clearer than your eyes. For strange though it may seem, it was safe to declare this tome. It may even help the master that you love. It shall turn to his good, if it is in my power. So be comforted. But do not even name this thing again aloud. Once is enough.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The hobbits came back to their seats and sat very quiet. Men turned back to their drink and their talk, perceiving that their captain had had some jest or other with the little guests, and that it was over.\n\n\"Well, Frodo, now at last we understand one another,\" said Faramir. \"If you took this thing on yourself, unwilling, at others\" asking, then you have pity and honour from me. And I marvel at you: to keep it hid and not to use it. You area new people and anew world tome. Are all your kin of like sort? Your land must be a realm of peace and content, and there must gardeners be in high honour. '\n\n\"Not all is well there,\" said Frodo, \"but certainly gardeners are honoured.\"\n\n\"But folk must grow weary there, even in their gardens, as do all things under the Sun of this world. And you are far from home and wayworn. No more tonight. Sleep, both of you– in peace, if you can. Fear not! I do not wish to see it, or touch it, or know more of it than I know (which is enough), lest peril perchance waylay me and I fall lower in the test than Frodo son of Drogo. Go now to rest– but first tell me only, if you will, whither you wish to go, and what to do. For I must watch, and wait, and think. Time passes. In the morning we must each go swiftly on the ways appointed to us.\"\n\nFrodo had felt himself trembling as the first shock of fear passed. Now a great weariness came down on him like a cloud. He could dissemble and resist no longer.\n\n\"I was going to find away into Mordor,\" he said faintly. \"I was going to Gorgoroth. I must find the Mountain of Fire and cast the thing into the gulf of Doom. Gandalf said so. I do not think I shall ever get there.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Faramir stared at him fora moment in grave astonishment." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then suddenly he caught him as he swayed, and lifting him gently, carried him to the bed and laid him there, and covered him warmly. At once he fell into a deep sleep.\n\nAnother bed was set beside him for his servant. Sam hesitated fora moment, then bowing very low: \"Good night, Captain, my lord,\" he said. \"You took the chance, sir.\"\n\n\"Did I so?\" said Faramir.\n\n\"Yes sir, and showed your quality: the very highest.\" Faramir smiled. \"A pert servant, Master Samwise. But nay: the praise of the praiseworthy is above all rewards. Yet there was naught in this to praise. I had no lure or desire to do other than I have done.\"\n\n\"Ah well, sir,\" said Sam, \"you said my master had an Elvish air; and that was good and true. But I can say this: you have an air too, sir, that reminds me of, of– well, Gandalf, of wizards.\"\n\n\"Maybe,\" said Faramir. \"Maybe you discern from faraway the air of Númenor. Goodnight!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "THE FORBIDDEN POOL\n\nFrodo woke to find Faramir bending over him. Fora second old fears seized him and he sat up and shrank away.\n\n\"There is nothing to fear,\" said Faramir. \"Is it morning already?\" said Frodo yawning.\n\n\"Not yet, but night is drawing to an end, and the full moon is setting. Will you come and see it? Also there is a matter on which I desire your counsel. I am sorry to rouse you from sleep, but will you come?\"\n\n\"I will,\" said Frodo, rising and shivering a little as he left the warm blanket and pelts. It seemed cold in the fireless cave. The noise of the water was loud in the stillness. He put on his cloak and followed Faramir.\n\nSam, waking suddenly by some instinct of watchfulness, saw first his master's empty bed and leapt to his feet. Then he saw two dark figures, Frodo and a man, framed against the archway, which was now filled with a pale white light. He hurried after them, past rows of men sleeping on mattresses along the wall. Ashe went by the cave-mouth he saw that the Curtain was now become a dazzling veil of silk and pearls and silver thread: melting icicles of moonlight. But he did not pause to admire it, and turning aside he followed his master through the narrow doorway in the wall of the cave.\n\nThey went first along a black passage, then up many wet steps, and so came to a small flat landing cut in the stone and lit by the pale sky, gleaming high above through along deep shaft. From here two flights of steps led: one going on, as it seemed, upon to the high bank of the stream; the other turning away to the left. This they followed. It wound its way up like a turret-stair." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At last they came out of the stony darkness and looked about. They were on a wide flat rock without rail or parapet. At their right, eastwards, the torrent fell, splashing over many terraces, and then, pouring down a steep race, it filled a smooth-hewn channel with a dark force of water flecked with foam, and curling and rushing almost at their feet it plunged sheer over the edge that yawned upon their left. A man stood there, near the brink, silent, gazing down.\n\nFrodo turned to watch the sleek necks of the water as they curved and dived. Then he lifted his eyes and gazed faraway. The world was quiet and cold, as if dawn were near. Far off in the West the full moon was sinking, round and white. Pale mists shimmered in the great vale below: a wide gulf of silver fume, beneath which rolled the cool night-waters of the Anduin. A black darkness loomed beyond, and in it glinted, here and there, cold, sharp, remote, white as the teeth of ghosts, the peaks of Ered Nimrais, the White Mountains of the realm of Gondor, tipped with everlasting snow.\n\nFora while Frodo stood thereon the high stone, and a shiver ran through him, wondering if anywhere in the vastness of the nightlands his old companions walked or slept, or lay dead shrouded in mist. Why was he brought here out of forgetful sleep?\n\nSam was eager for an answer to the same question and could not refrain himself from muttering, for his master's ear alone as he thought:\"It's a fine view, no doubt, Mr. Frodo, but chilly to the heart, not to mention the bones! What's going on? '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Faramir heard and answered. \"Moonset over Gondor. Fair Ithil, as he goes from Middle-earth, glances upon the white locks of old Mindolluin. It is worth a few shivers. But that is not what I brought you to see– though as for you, Samwise, you were not brought, and do but pay the penalty of your watchfulness. A draught of wine shall amend it. Come, look now!\"\n\nHe stepped up beside the silent sentinel on the dark edge, and Frodo followed. Sam hung back. He already felt insecure enough on this high wet platform. Faramir and Frodo looked down. Far below them they saw the white waters pour into a foaming bowl, and then swirl darkly about a deep oval basin in the rocks, until they found their way out again through a narrow gate, and flowed away, fuming and chattering, into calmer and more level reaches. The moonlight still slanted down to the fall's foot and gleamed on the ripples of the basin. Presently Frodo was aware of a small dark thing on the near bank, but even as he looked at it, it dived and vanished just beyond the boil and bubble of the fall, cleaving the black water as neatly as an arrow or an edgewise stone.\n\nFaramir turned to the man at his side. \"Now what would you say that it is, Anborn? A squirrel, or a kingfisher? Are there black kingfishers in the night-pools of Mirkwood?\"\n\n\"\"Tis not a bird, whatever else it be, \"answered Anborn.\"It has four limbs and dives manwise; a pretty mastery of the craft it shows, too. What is it at? Seeking away up behind the Curtain to our hidings? It seems we are discovered at last. I have my bow here, and I have posted other archers, nigh as good marksmen as myself, on either bank. We wait only for your command to shoot, Captain. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Shall we shoot?\" said Faramir, turning quickly to Frodo.\n\nFrodo did not answer fora moment. Then \"No!\" he said. \"No! I beg you not to.\" If Sam had dared, he would have said \"Yes,\" quicker and louder. He could not see, but he guessed well enough from their words what they were looking at.\n\n\"You know, then, what this thing is?\" said Faramir. \"Come, now you have seen, tell me why it should be spared. In all our words together you have not once spoken of your gangrel companion, and I let him be for the time. He could wait till he was caught and brought before me. I sent my keenest huntsmen to seek him, but he slipped them, and they had no sight of him till now, save Anborn here, once at dusk yesterevening. But now he has done worse trespass than only to go coney-snaring in the uplands: he has dared to come to Henneth Annûn, and his life is forfeit. I marvel at the creature: so secret and so sly as he is, to come sporting in the pool before our very window. Does he think that men sleep without watch all night? Why does he so?\"\n\n\"There are two answers, I think,\" said Frodo. \"For one thing, he knows little of Men, and sly though he is, your refuge is so hidden that perhaps he does not know that Men are concealed here. For another, I think he is allured hereby a mastering desire, stronger than his caution.\"\n\n\"He is lured here, you say?\" said Faramir in a low voice. \"Can he, does he then know of your burden?\"\n\n\"Indeed yes. He bore it himself for many years.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"He bore it?\" said Faramir, breathing sharply in his wonder. \"This matter winds itself ever in new riddles. Then he is pursuing it?\"\n\n\"Maybe. It is precious to him. But I did not speak of that.\"\n\n\"What then does the creature seek?\"\n\n\"Fish,\" said Frodo. \"Look!\"\n\nThey peered down at the dark pool. A little blackhead appeared at the far end of the basin, just out of the deep shadow of the rocks. There was a brief silver glint, and a swirl of tiny ripples. It swam to the side, and then with marvellous agility a froglike figure climbed out of the water and up the bank. At once it sat down and began to gnaw at the small silver thing that glittered as it turned: the last rays of the moon were now falling behind the stony wall at the pool's end.\n\nFaramir laughed softly. \"Fish!\" he said. \"It is a less perilous hunger. Or maybe not: fish from the pool of Henneth Annûn may cost him all he has to give.\"\n\n\"Now I have him at the arrow-point,\" said Anborn. \"Shall I not shoot, Captain? For coming unbidden to this place death is our law.\"\n\n\"Wait, Anborn,\" said Faramir. \"This is a harder matter than it seems. What have you to say now, Frodo? Why should we spare?\"\n\n\"The creature is wretched and hungry,\" said Frodo, \"and unaware of his danger. And Gandalf, your Mithrandir, he would have bidden you not to slay him for that reason, and for others. He forbade the Elves to do so. I do not know clearly why, and of what I guess I cannot speak openly out here. But this creature is in someway bound up with my errand. Until you found us and took us, he was my guide.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Your guide!\" said Faramir. \"The matter becomes ever stranger. I would do much for you, Frodo, but this I cannot grant: to let this sly wanderer go free at his own will from here, to join you later if it please him, or to be caught by orcs and tell all he knows under threat of pain. He must be slain or taken. Slain, if he be not taken very swiftly. But how can this slippery thing of many guises be caught, save by a feathered shaft?\"\n\n\"Let me go down quietly to him,\" said Frodo. \"You may keep your bows bent, and shoot meat least, if I fail. I shall not runaway.\"\n\n\"Go then and be swift!\" said Faramir. \"If he comes off alive, he should be your faithful servant for the rest of his unhappy days. Lead Frodo down to the bank, Anborn, and go softly. The thing has a nose and ears. Give me your bow.\"\n\nAnborn grunted and led the way down the winding stair to the landing, and then up the other stair, until at last they came to a narrow opening shrouded with thick bushes. Passing silently through, Frodo found himself on the top of the southern bank above the pool. It was now dark and the falls were pale and grey, reflecting only the lingering moonlight of the western sky. He could not see Gollum. He went forward a short way and Anborn came softly behind him.\n\n\"Go on!\" he breathed in Frodo's ear.\"Have a care to your right. If you fall in the pool, then no one but your fishing friend can help you. And forget not that there are bowmen near at hand, though you may not see them. '\n\nFrodo crept forward, using his hands Gollum-like to feel his way and to steady himself. The rocks were for the most part flat and smooth but slippery. He halted listening. At first he could hear no sound but the unceasing rush of the fall behind him. Then presently he heard, not far ahead, a hissing murmur." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Fissh, nice fissh. White Face has vanished, my precious, at last, yes. Now we can eat fish in peace. No, not in peace, precious. For Precious is lost; yes, lost. Dirty hobbits, nasty hobbits. Gone and left us, gollum; and Precious is gone. Only poor Sméagol all alone. No Precious. Nasty Men, they'll take it, steal my Precious. Thieves. We hates them. Fissh, nice fissh. Makes us strong. Makes eyes bright, fingers tight, yes. Throttle them, precious. Throttle them all, yes, if we gets chances. Nice fissh. Nice fissh! '\n\nSo it went on, almost as unceasing as the waterfall, only interrupted by a faint noise of slavering and gurgling. Frodo shivered, listening with pity and disgust. He wished it would stop, and that he never need hear that voice again. Anborn was not far behind. He could creep back and ask him to get the huntsmen to shoot. They would probably get close enough, while Gollum was gorging and off his guard. Only one true shot, and Frodo would be rid of the miserable voice forever. But no, Gollum had a claim on him now. The servant has a claim on the master for service, even service in fear. They would have foundered in the Dead Marshes but for Gollum. Frodo knew, too, somehow, quite clearly that Gandalf would not have wished it.\n\n\"Sméagol!\" he said softly.\n\n\"Fissh, nice fissh,\" said the voice.\n\n\"Sméagol!\" he said, a little louder. The voice stopped." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Sméagol, Master has come to look for you." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Master is here. Come, Sméagol!\" There was no answer but a soft hiss, as of intaken breath.\n\n\"Come, Sméagol!\" said Frodo. \"We are in danger. Men will kill you, if they find you here. Come quickly, if you wish to escape death. Come to Master!\"\n\n\"No!\" said the voice. \"Not nice Master. Leaves poor Sméagol and goes with new friends. Master can wait. Sméagol hasn't finished. '\n\n\"There's no time, \"said Frodo.\"Bring fish with you. Come! '\n\n\"No! Must finish fish.\"\n\n\"Sméagol!\" said Frodo desperately. \"Precious will be angry. I shall take Precious, and I shall say: make him swallow the bones and choke. Never taste fish again. Come, Precious is waiting!\"\n\nThere was a sharp hiss. Presently out of the darkness Gollum came crawling on all fours, like an erring dog called to heel. He had a half-eaten fish in his mouth and another in his hand. He came close to Frodo, almost nose to nose, and sniffed at him. His pale eyes were shining. Then he took the fish out of his mouth and stood up.\n\n\"Nice Master!\" he whispered. \"Nice hobbit, comeback to poor Sméagol. Good Sméagol comes. Now let's go, go quickly, yes. Through the trees, while the Faces are dark. Yes, come, let's go!\"\n\n\"Yes, we'll go soon, \"said Frodo.\"But not at once. I will go with you as I promised. I promise again. But not now. You are not safe yet. I will save you, but you must trust me. '" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"We must trust Master?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "said Gollum doubtfully. \"Why? Why not goat once? Where is the other one, the cross rude hobbit? Where is he?\"\n\n\"Away up there,\" said Frodo, pointing to the waterfall. \"I am not going without him. We must go back to him.\" His heart sank. This was too much like trickery. He did not really fear that Faramir would allow Gollum to be killed, but he would probably make him prisoner and bind him; and certainly what Frodo did would seem a treachery to the poor treacherous creature. It would probably be impossible ever to make him understand or believe that Frodo had saved his life in the only way he could. What else could he do? – to keep faith, as near as might be, with both sides. \"Come!\" he said. \"Or the Precious will be angry. We are going back now, up the stream. Goon, goon, you go in front!\"\n\nGollum crawled along close to the brink fora little way, snuffling and suspicious. Presently he stopped and raised his head. \"Something's there! \"he said.\"Not a hobbit. \"Suddenly he turned back. A green light was flickering in his bulging eyes.\"Masster, masster! \"he hissed.\"Wicked! Tricksy! False! ' He spat and stretched out his long arms with white snapping fingers.\n\nAt that moment the great black shape of Anborn loomed up behind him and came down on him. A large strong hand took him in the nape of the neck and pinned him. He twisted round like lightning, all wet and slimy as he was, wriggling like an eel, biting and scratching like a cat. But two more men came up out of the shadows." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Hold still!\" said one. \"Or we'll stick you as full of pins as a hedgehog. Hold still! '\n\nGollum went limp, and began to whine and weep. They tied him, none too gently.\n\n\"Easy, easy!\" said Frodo. \"He has no strength to match you. Don't hurt him, if you can help it. He'll be quieter, if you don't. Sméagol! They won't hurt you. I'll go with you, and you shall come to no harm. Not unless they kill me too. Trust Master! '\n\nGollum turned and spat at him. The men picked him up, put a hood over his eyes, and carried him off.\n\nFrodo followed them, feeling very wretched. They went through the opening behind the bushes, and back, down the stairs and passages, into the cave. Two or three torches had been lit. Men were stirring. Sam was there, and he gave a queer look at the limp bundle that the men carried. \"Got him?\" he said to Frodo.\n\n\"Yes. Well no, I didn't get him. He came tome, because he trusted meat first, I'm afraid. I did not want him tied up like this. I hope it will be all right; but I hate the whole business.\"\n\n\"So do I,\" said Sam. \"And nothing will ever be all right where that piece of misery is.\"\n\nA man came and beckoned to the hobbits, and took them to the recess at the back of the cave. Faramir was sitting therein his chair, and the lamp had been rekindled in its niche above his head. He signed to them to sit down on the stools beside him. \"Bring wine for the guests,\" he said. \"And bring the prisoner tome.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The wine was brought, and then Anborn came carrying Gollum. He removed the cover from Gollum's head and set him on his feet, standing behind him to support him. Gollum blinked, hooding the malice of his eyes with their heavy pale lids. Avery miserable creature he looked, dripping and dank, smelling offish (he still clutched one in his hand); his sparse locks were hanging like rank weed over his bony brows, his nose was snivelling.\n\n\"Loose us! Loose us!\" he said. \"The cord hurts us, yes it does, it hurts us, and we've done nothing. '\n\n\"Nothing?\" said Faramir, looking at the wretched creature with a keen glance, but without any expression in his face either of anger, or pity, or wonder. \"Nothing? Have you never done anything worthy of binding or of worse punishment? However, that is not for me to judge, happily. But tonight you have come where it is death to come. The fish of this pool are dearly bought.\"\n\nGollum dropped the fish from his hand. \"Don't want fish, ' he said.\n\n\"The price is not set on the fish,\" said Faramir. \"Only to come here and look on the pool bears the penalty of death. I have spared you so far at the prayer of Frodo here, who says that of him at least you have deserved some thanks. But you must also satisfy me. What is your name? Whence do you come? And whither do you go? What is your business?\"\n\n\"We are lost, lost,\" said Gollum. \"No name, no business, no Precious, nothing. Only empty. Only hungry; yes, we are hungry. A few little fishes, nasty bony little fishes, fora poor creature, and they say death. So wise they are; so just, so very just.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Not very wise,\" said Faramir. \"But just: yes perhaps, as just as our little wisdom allows. Unloose him Frodo!\" Faramir took a small nail-knife from his belt and handed it to Frodo. Gollum misunderstanding the gesture, squealed and fell down.\n\n\"Now, Sméagol!\" said Frodo. \"You must trust me. I will not desert you. Answer truthfully, if you can. It will do you good not harm.\" He cut the cords on Gollum's wrists and ankles and raised him to his feet.\n\n\"Come hither!\" said Faramir. \"Look at me! Do you know the name of this place? Have you been here before?\"\n\nSlowly Gollum raised his eyes and looked unwillingly into Faramir's. All light went out of them, and they stared bleak and pale fora moment into the clear unwavering eyes of the man of Gondor. There was a still silence. Then Gollum dropped his head and shrank down, until he was squatting on the floor, shivering.\"We doesn't know and we doesn't want to know, \"he whimpered.\"Never came here; never come again. '\n\n\"There are locked doors and closed windows in your mind, and darkrooms behind them,\" said Faramir. \"But in this I judge that you speak the truth. It is well for you. What oath will you swear never to return; and never to lead any living creature hither byword or sign?\"\n\n\"Master knows,\" said Gollum with a sidelong glance at Frodo. \"Yes, he knows. We will promise Master, if he saves us. We'll promise to It, yes. \"He crawled to Frodo's feet. \"Save us, nice Master!\" he whined. \"Sméagol promises to Precious, promises faithfully. Never come again, never speak, no never! No, precious, no!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Are you satisfied?\" said Faramir.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Frodo. \"At least, you must either accept this promise or carryout your law. You will get no more. But I promised that if he came tome, he should not be harmed. And I would not be proved faithless.\"\n\nFaramir sat fora moment in thought. \"Very good,\" he said at last. \"I surrender you to your master, to Frodo son of Drogo. Let him declare what he will do with you!\"\n\n\"But, Lord Faramir,\" said Frodo bowing, \"you have not yet declared your will concerning the said Frodo, and until that is made known, he cannot shape his plans for himself or his companions. Your judgement was postponed until the morning; but that is now at hand.\"\n\n\"Then I will declare my doom,\" said Faramir. \"As for you, Frodo, in so far as lies in me under higher authority, I declare you free in the realm of Gondor to the furthest of its ancient bounds; save only that neither you nor any that go with you have leave to come to this place unbidden. This doom shall stand fora year and a day, and then cease, unless you shall before that term come to Minas Tirith and present yourself to the Lord and Steward of the City. Then I will entreat him to confirm what I have done and to make it lifelong. In the meantime, whomsoever you take under your protection shall be under my protection and under the shield of Gondor. Are you answered?\"\n\nFrodo bowed low. \"I am answered,\" he said, \"and I place myself at your service, if that is of any worth to one so high and honourable.\"\n\n\"It is of great worth,\" said Faramir. \"And now, do you take this creature, this Sméagol, under your protection?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I do take Sméagol under my protection,\" said Frodo. Sam sighed audibly; and not at the courtesies, of which, as any hobbit would, he thoroughly approved. Indeed in the Shire such a matter would have required a great many more words and bows.\n\n\"Then I say to you,\" said Faramir, turning to Gollum, \"you are under doom of death; but while you walk with Frodo you are safe for our part. Yet if ever you be found by any man of Gondor astray without him, the doom shall fall. And may death find you swiftly, within Gondor or without, if you do not well serve him. Now answer me: whither would you go? You were his guide, he says. Whither were you leading him?\" Gollum made no reply.\n\n\"This I will not have secret,\" said Faramir. \"Answer me, or I will reverse my judgement!\" Still Gollum did not answer.\n\n\"I will answer for him,\" said Frodo. \"He brought me to the Black Gate, as I asked; but it was impassable.\"\n\n\"There is no open gate into the Nameless Land,\" said Faramir.\n\n\"Seeing this, we turned aside and came by the Southward road,\" Frodo continued; \"for he said that there is, or there maybe, a path near to Minas Ithil.\"\n\n\"Minas Morgul,\" said Faramir.\n\n\"I do not know clearly,\" said Frodo; \"but the path climbs, I think, up into the mountains on the northern side of that vale where the old city stands. It goes up to a high cleft and so down to– that which is beyond.\"\n\n\"Do you know the name of that high pass?\" said Faramir. \"No,\" said Frodo." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It is called Cirith Ungol.\" Gollum hissed sharply and began muttering to himself. \"Is not that its name?\" said Faramir turning to him.\n\n\"No!\" said Gollum, and then he squealed, as if something had stabbed him. \"Yes, yes, we heard the name once. But what does the name matter to us? Master says he must get in. So we must try someway. There is no other way to try, no.\"\n\n\"No other way?\" said Faramir. \"How do you know that? And who has explored all the confines of that dark realm?\" He looked long and thoughtfully at Gollum. Presently he spoke again. \"Take this creature away, Anborn. Treat him gently, but watch him. And do not you, Sméagol, try to dive into the falls. The rocks have such teeth there as would slay you before your time. Leave us now and take your fish!\"\n\nAnborn went out and Gollum went cringing before him. The curtain was drawn across the recess.\n\n\"Frodo, I think you do very unwisely in this,\" said Faramir. \"I do not think you should go with this creature. It is wicked.\"\n\n\"No, not altogether wicked,\" said Frodo.\n\n\"Not wholly, perhaps,\" said Faramir; \"but malice eats it like a canker, and the evil is growing. He will lead you to no good. If you will part with him, I will give him safe-conduct and guidance to any point on the borders of Gondor that he may name.\"\n\n\"He would not take it,\" said Frodo. \"He would follow after meas he long has done. And I have promised many times to take him under my protection and to go where he led. You would not ask me to break faith with him?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No,\" said Faramir. \"But my heart would. For it seems less evil to counsel another man to break troth than to do so oneself, especially if one sees a friend bound unwitting to his own harm. But no– if he will go with you, you must now endure him. But I do not think you are holden to go to Cirith Ungol, of which he has told you less than he knows. That much I perceived clearly in his mind. Do not go to Cirith Ungol!\"\n\n\"Where then shall I go?\" said Frodo. \"Back to the Black Gate and deliver myself up to the guard? What do you know against this place that makes its name so dreadful?\"\n\n\"Nothing certain,\" said Faramir. 'We of Gondor do not ever pass east of the Road in these days, and none of us younger men has ever done so, nor has any of us set foot upon the Mountains of Shadow. Of them we know only old report and the rumour of bygone days. But there is some dark terror that dwells in the passes above Minas Morgul. If Cirith Ungol is named, old men and masters of lore will blanch and fall silent.\n\n\"The valley of Minas Morgul passed into evil very long ago, and it was a menace and a dread while the banished Enemy dwelt yet faraway, and Ithilien was still for the most part in our keeping. As you know, that city was once a strong place, proud and fair, Minas Ithil, the twin sister of our own city. But it was taken by fell men whom the Enemy in his first strength had dominated, and who wandered homeless and masterless after his fall. It is said that their lords were men of Númenor who had fallen into dark wickedness; to them the Enemy had given rings of power, and he had devoured them: living ghosts they were become, terrible and evil. After his going they took Minas Ithil and dwelt there, and they filled it, and all the valley about, with decay: it seemed empty and was not so, fora shapeless fear lived within the ruined walls. Nine Lords there were, and after the return of their Master, which they aided and prepared in secret, they grew strong again. Then the Nine Riders issued forth from the gates of horror, and we could not withstand them. Do not approach their citadel. You will be espied. It is a place of sleepless malice, full of lidless eyes. Do not go that way!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But where else will you direct me?\" said Frodo. \"You cannot yourself, you say, guide me to the mountains, nor over them. But over the mountains I am bound, by solemn undertaking to the Council, to find away or perish in the seeking. And if I turn back, refusing the road in its bitter end, where then shall I go among Elves or Men? Would you have me come to Gondor with this Thing, the Thing that drove your brother mad with desire? What spell would it work in Minas Tirith? Shall there be two cities of Minas Morgul, grinning at each other across a dead land filled with rottenness?\"\n\n\"I would not have it so,\" said Faramir.\n\n\"Then what would you have me do?\"\n\n\"I know not. Only I would not have you go to death or to torment. And I do not think that Mithrandir would have chosen this way.\"\n\n\"Yet since he is gone, I must take such paths as I can find. And there is no time for long searching,\" said Frodo.\n\n\"It is a hard doom and a hopeless errand,\" said Faramir. \"But at the least, remember my warning: beware of this guide, Sméagol. He has done murder before now. I read it in him.\" He sighed.\n\n'Well, so we meet and part, Frodo son of Drogo. You have no need of soft words: I do not hope to see you again on any other day under this Sun. But you shall go now with my blessing upon you, and upon all your people. Rest a little while food is prepared for you.\n\n\"I would gladly learn how this creeping Sméagol became possessed of the Thing of which we speak, and how he lost it, but I will not trouble you now. If ever beyond hope you return to the lands of the living and were-tell our tales, sitting by a wall in the sun, laughing at old grief, you shall tell me then. Until that time, or some other time beyond the vision of the Seeing-stones of Númenor, farewell!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He rose and bowed low to Frodo, and drawing the curtain passed out into the cave." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "JOURNEY TO THE CROSS-ROADS\n\nFrodo and Sam returned to their beds and lay therein silence resting fora little, while men bestirred themselves and the business of the day began. After awhile water was brought to them, and then they were led to a table where food was set for three. Faramir broke his fast with them. He had not slept since the battle on the day before, yet he did not look weary.\n\nWhen they had finished they stood up. \"May no hunger trouble you on the road,\" said Faramir. \"You have little provision, but some small store of food fit for travellers I have ordered to bestowed in your packs. You will have no lack of water as you walk in Ithilien, but do not drink of any stream that flows from Imlad Morgul, the Valley of Living Death. This also I must tell you. My scouts and watchers have all returned, even some that have crept within sight of the Morannon. They all find a strange thing. The land is empty. Nothing is on the road, and no sound of foot, or horn, or bowstring is anywhere to be heard. Awaiting silence broods above the Nameless Land. I do not know what this portends. But the time draws swiftly to some great conclusion. Storm is coming. Hasten while you may! If you are ready, let us go. The Sun will soon rise above the shadow.\"\n\nThe hobbits' packs were brought to them (a little heavier than they had been), and also two stout staves of polished wood, shod with iron, and with carven heads through which ran plaited leathern thongs.\n\n\"I have no fitting gifts to give you at our parting,\" said Faramir; \"but take these staves. They maybe of service to those who walk or climb in the wild. The men of the White Mountains use them; though these have been cut down to your height and newly shod. They are made of the fair tree lebethron, beloved of the woodwrights of Gondor, and a virtue has been set upon them of finding and returning. May that virtue not wholly fail under the Shadow into which you go!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "The hobbits bowed low." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Most gracious host,\" said Frodo, \"it was said tome by Elrond Halfelven that I should find friendship upon the way, secret and unlooked for. Certainly I looked for no such friendship as you have shown. To have found it turns evil to great good.\"\n\nNow they made ready to depart. Gollum was brought out of some corner or hiding-hole, and he seemed better pleased with himself than he had been, though he kept close to Frodo and avoided the glance of Faramir.\n\n\"Your guide must be blindfolded,\" said Faramir, \"but you and your servant Samwise I release from this, if you wish.\"\n\nGollum squealed, and squirmed, and clutched at Frodo, when they came to bind his eyes; and Frodo said: \"Blindfold us all three, and cover up my eyes first, and then perhaps he will see that no harm is meant.\" This was done, and they were led from the cave of Henneth Annûn. After they had passed the passages and stairs they felt the cool morning air, fresh and sweet, about them. Still blind they went on for some little time, up and then gently down. At last the voice of Faramir ordered them to be uncovered.\n\nThey stood under the boughs of the woods again. No noise of the falls could be heard, fora long southward slope lay now between them and the ravine in which the stream flowed. To the west they could see light through the trees, as if the world came thereto a sudden end, at a brink looking out only onto sky.\n\n\"Here is the last parting of our ways,\" said Faramir. \"If you take my counsel, you will not turn eastward yet. Go straight on, for thus you will have the cover of the woodland for many miles. On your west is an edge where the landfalls into the great vales, sometimes suddenly and sheer, sometimes in long hillsides. Keep near to this edge and the skirts of the forest. In the beginning of your journey you may walk under daylight, I think. The land dreams in a false peace, and fora while all evil is withdrawn. Fare you well, while you may!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He embraced the hobbits then, after the manner of his people, stooping, and placing his hands upon their shoulders, and kissing their foreheads. \"Go with the goodwill of all good men!\" he said.\n\nThey bowed to the ground. Then he turned and without looking back he left them and went to his two guards that stood at a little distance away. They marvelled to see with what speed these green-clad men now moved, vanishing almost in the twinkling of an eye. The forest where Faramir had stood seemed empty and drear, as if a dream had passed.\n\nFrodo sighed and turned back southward. As if to mark his disregard of all such courtesy, Gollum was scrabbling in the mould at the foot of a tree. \"Hungry again already?\" thought Sam. \"Well, now for it again!\"\n\n\"Have they gone at last?\" said Gollum. \"Nassty wicked Men! Sméagol's neck still hurts him, yes it does. Let's go!\"\n\n\"Yes, let us go,\" said Frodo. \"But if you can only speak ill of those who showed you mercy, keep silent!\"\n\n\"Nice Master!\" said Gollum. \"Sméagol was only joking. Always forgives, he does, yes, yes, even nice Master's little trickses. Oh yes, nice Master, nice Sméagol! '\n\nFrodo and Sam did not answer. Hoisting their packs and taking their staves in hand, they passed on into the woods of Ithilien.\n\nTwice that day they rested and took a little of the food provided by Faramir: dried fruits and salted meat, enough for many days; and bread enough to last while it was still fresh. Gollum ate nothing." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The sun rose and passed overhead unseen, and began to sink, and the light through the trees to the west grew golden; and always they walked in cool green shadow, and all about them was silence." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The birds seemed all to have flown away or to have fallen dumb.\n\nDarkness came early to the silent woods, and before the fall of night they halted, weary, for they had walked seven leagues or more from Henneth Annûn. Frodo lay and slept away the night on the deep mould beneath an ancient tree. Sam beside him was more uneasy: he woke many times, but there was never a sign of Gollum, who had slipped off as soon as the others had settled to rest. Whether he had slept by himself in some hole nearby, or had wandered restlessly prowling through the night, he did not say; but he returned with the first glimmer of light, and roused his companions.\n\n\"Must getup, yes they must!\" he said. \"Long ways to go still, south and east. Hobbits must make haste!\"\n\nThat day passed much as the day before had gone, except that the silence seemed deeper; the air grew heavy, and it began to be stifling under the trees. It felt as if thunder was brewing. Gollum often paused, sniffing the air, and then he would mutter to himself and urge them to greater speed.\n\nAs the third stage of their day's march drew on and afternoon waned, the forest opened out, and the trees became larger and more scattered. Great ilexes of huge girth stood dark and solemn in wide glades with here and there among them hoary ash-trees, and giant oaks just putting out their brown-green buds. About them lay long launds of green grass dappled with celandine and anemones, white and blue, now folded for sleep; and there were acres populous with the leaves of woodland hyacinths: already their sleek bell-stems were thrusting through the mould. No living creature, beast or bird, was to be seen, but in these open places Gollum grew afraid, and they walked now with caution, flitting from one long shadow to another." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Light was fading fast when they came to the forest-end." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There they sat under an old gnarled oak that sent its roots twisting like snakes down a steep crumbling bank. A deep dim valley lay before them. On its further side the woods gathered again, blue and grey under the sullen evening, and marched on southwards. To the right the Mountains of Gondor glowed, remote in the West, under afire-flecked sky. To the left lay darkness: the towering walls of Mordor; and out of that darkness the long valley came, falling steeply in an ever-widening trough towards the Anduin. At its bottom ran a hurrying stream: Frodo could hear its stony voice coming up through the silence; and beside it on the hither side a road went winding down like a pale ribbon, down into chill grey mists that no gleam of sunset touched. There it seemed to Frodo that he descried far off, floating as it were on a shadowy sea, the high dim tops and broken pinnacles of old towers forlorn and dark.\n\nHe turned to Gollum. \"Do you know where we are?\" he said.\n\n\"Yes, Master. Dangerous places. This is the road from the Tower of the Moon, Master, down to the ruined city by the shores of the River. The ruined city, yes, very nasty place, full of enemies. We shouldn't have taken Men's advice. Hobbits have come along way out of the path. Must go east now, away up there.\" He waved his skinny arm towards the darkling mountains. \"And we can't use this road. Oh no! Cruel peoples come this way, down from the Tower. '\n\nFrodo looked down onto the road. At any rate nothing was moving on it now. It appeared lonely and forsaken, running down to empty ruins in the mist. But there was an evil feeling in the air, as if things might indeed be passing up and down that eyes could not see. Frodo shuddered as he looked again at the distant pinnacles now dwindling into night, and the sound of the water seemed cold and cruel: the voice of Morgulduin, the polluted stream that flowed from the Valley of the Wraiths." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"What shall we do?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "he said. \"We have walked long and far. Shall we look for someplace in the woods behind where we can lie hidden?\"\n\n\"No good hiding in the dark,\" said Gollum. \"It's in day that hobbits must hide now, yes in day. '\n\n\"Oh come!\" said Sam. \"We must rest fora bit, even if we getup again in the middle of the night. There'll still be hours of dark then, time enough for you to take us along march, if you know the way. '\n\nGollum reluctantly agreed to this, and he turned back towards the trees, working eastward fora while along the straggling edges of the wood. He would not rest on the ground so near the evil road, and after some debate they all climbed up into the crotch of a large holm-oak, whose thick branches springing together from the trunk made a good hiding-place and a fairly comfortable refuge. Night fell and it grew altogether dark under the canopy of the tree. Frodo and Sam drank a little water and ate some bread and dried fruit, but Gollum at once curled up and went to sleep. The hobbits did not shut their eyes.\n\nIt must have been a little after midnight when Gollum woke up: suddenly they were aware of his pale eyes unlidded gleaming at them. He listened and sniffed, which seemed, as they had noticed before, his usual method of discovering the time of night.\n\n\"Are we rested? Have we had beautiful sleep?\" he said. \"Let's go! '\n\n\"We aren't, and we haven't,\" growled Sam. \"But we'll go if we must. '\n\nGollum dropped at once from the branches of the tree onto all fours, and the hobbits followed more slowly." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Aid the author, keep the plot going.\nTags: fantasy, chronicle of narnia, sea voyage\nAuthor: C.S. Lewis\nTitle: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader\nChapter: 3" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "THERE WAS A BOY CALLED EUSTACE Clarence Scrubb, and he almost deserved it. His parents called him Eustace Clarence and masters called him Scrubb. I can't tell you how his friends spoke to him, for he had none. He didn't call his Father and Mother'Father\" and'Mother,\" but Harold and Alberta. They were very up-to-date and advanced people. They were vegetarians, non-smokers and teetotalers and wore a special kind of underclothes. In their house there was very little furniture and very few clothes on beds and the windows were always open.\n\nEustace Clarence liked animals, especially beetles, if they were dead and pinned on a card. He liked books if they were books of information and had pictures of grain elevators or of fat foreign children doing exercises in model schools.\n\nEustace Clarence disliked his cousins the four Pevensies, Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy. But he was quite glad when he heard that Edmund and Lucy were coming to stay. For deep down inside him he liked bossing and bullying; and, though he was a puny little person who couldn't have stood up even to Lucy, let alone Edmund, in a fight, he knew that there are dozens of ways to give people a bad time if you are in your own home and they are only visitors.\n\nEdmund and Lucy did not at all want to come and stay with Uncle Harold and Aunt Alberta. But it really couldn't be helped. Father had got a job lecturing in America for sixteen weeks that summer, and Mother was to go with him because she hadn't had areal holiday for ten years. Peter was working very hard for an exam and he was to spend the holidays being coached by old Professor Kirke in whose house these four children had had wonderful adventures long ago in the war years. If he had still been in that house he would have had them all to stay. But he had somehow become poor since the old days and was living in a small cottage with only one bedroom to spare. It would have cost too much money to take the other three all to America, and Susan had gone." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Grown-ups thought her the pretty one of the family and she was no good at schoolwork (though otherwise very old for her age) and Mother said she'would get far more out of a trip to America than the youngsters.\" Edmund and Lucy tried not to grudge Susan her luck, but it was dreadful having to spend the summer holidays at their Aunt's. \"But it's far worse for me,\" said Edmund, \"because you'll at least have a room of your own and I shall have to share a bedroom with that record stinker, Eustace.\"\n\nThe story begins on an afternoon when Edmund and Lucy were stealing a few precious minutes alone together. And of course they were talking about Narnia, which was the name of their own private and secret country. Most of us, I suppose, have a secret country but for most of us it is only an imaginary country. Edmund and Lucy were luckier than other people in that respect. Their secret country was real. They had already visited it twice; not in a game or a dream but in reality. They had got thereof course by Magic, which is the only way of getting to Narnia. And a promise, or very nearly a promise, had been made them in Narnia itself that they would someday get back. You may imagine that they talked about it a good deal, when they got the chance.\n\nThey were in Lucy's room, sitting on the edge of her bed and looking at a picture on the opposite wall. It was the only picture in the house that they liked. Aunt Alberta didn't like it at all (that was why it was put away in a little backroom upstairs), but she couldn't get rid of it because it had been a wedding present from someone she did not want to offend.\n\nIt was a picture of a ship-a ship sailing straight toward you. Her prow was gilded and shaped like the head of a dragon with wide-open mouth. She had only one mast and one large, square sail which was a rich purple. The sides of the ship-what you could see of them where the gilded wings of the dragon ended-were green. She had just run up to the top of one glorious blue wave, and the nearer slope of that wave came down toward you, with streaks and bubbles on it. She was obviously running fast before a gay wind, listing over a little on her port side. (By the way, if you are going to read this story at all, and if you don't know already, you had better get it into your head that the left of a ship when you are looking ahead, is port, and the right is starboard.) All the sunlight fell on her from that side, and the water on that side was full of greens and purples. On the other, it was darker blue from the shadow of the ship." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The question is,\" said Edmund, \"whether it doesn't make things worse, looking at a Narnian ship when you can't get there.\"\n\n\"Even looking is better than nothing,\" said Lucy. \"And she is such a very Narnian ship.\"\n\n\"Still playing your old game?\" said Eustace Clarence, who had been listening outside the door and now came grinning into the room. Last year, when he had been staying with the Pevensies, he had managed to hear them all talking of Narnia and he loved teasing them about it. He thought of course that they were making it all up; and as he was far too stupid to make anything up himself, he did not approve of that.\n\n\"You're not wanted here,\" said Edmund curtly.\n\n\"I'm trying to think of a limerick,\" said Eustace. \" Something like this:\n\n\"Some kids who played games about Narnia Got gradually balmier and balmier-\"\n\n\"Well Narnia and balmier don't rhyme, to begin with,\" said Lucy.\n\n\"It's an assonance,\" said Eustace.\n\n\"Don't ask him what an assy-thingummy is,\" said Edmund. \"He's only longing to be asked. Say nothing and perhaps he'll go away.\"\n\nMost boys, on meeting a reception like this, would either have cleared out or flared up. Eustace did neither. He just hung about grinning, and presently began talking again.\n\n\"Do you like that picture?\" he asked.\n\n\"For heaven's sake don't let him get started about Art and all that,\" said Edmund hurriedly, but Lucy, who was very truthful, had already said, \"Yes, I do. I like it very much.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It's a rotten picture,\" said Eustace.\n\n\"You won't see it if you step outside,\" said Edmund.\n\n\"Why do you like it?\" said Eustace to Lucy.\n\n\"Well, for one thing,\" said Lucy, \"I like it because the ship looks as if it was really moving. And the water looks as if it was really wet. And the waves look as if they were really going up and down.\"\n\nOf course Eustace knew lots of answers to this, but he didn't say anything. The reason was that at that very moment he looked at the waves and saw that they did look very much indeed as if they were going up and down. He had only once been in a ship (and then only as far as the Isle of Wight) and had been horribly seasick. The look of the waves in the picture made him feel sick again. He turned rather green and tried another look. And then all three children were staring with open mouths.\n\nWhat they were seeing maybe hard to believe when you read it in print, but it was almost as hard to believe when you saw it happening. The things in the picture were moving. It didn't look at all like a cinema either; the colors were too real and clean and out-of-doors for that. Down went the prow of the ship into the wave and up went a great shock of spray. And then up went the wave behind her, and her stern and her deck became visible for the first time, and then disappeared as the next wave came to meet her and her bows went up again. At the same moment an exercise book which had been lying beside Edmund on the bed flapped, rose and sailed through the air to the wall behind him, and Lucy felt all her hair whipping round her face as it does on a windy day. And this was a windy day; but the wind was blowing out of the picture toward them. And suddenly with the wind came the noises-the swishing of waves and the slap of water against the ship's sides and the creaking and the over-all high steady roar of air and water. But it was the smell, the wild, briny smell, which really convinced Lucy that she was not dreaming." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Stop it,\" came Eustace's voice, squeaky with fright and bad temper. \"It's some silly trick you two are playing. Stop it. I'll tell Alberta-Ow!\"\n\nThe other two were much more accustomed to adventures, but, just exactly as Eustace Clarence said'Ow,\" they both said'Ow\" too. The reason was that a great cold, salt splash had broken right out of the frame and they were breathless from the smack of it, besides being wet through.\n\n\"I'll smash the rotten thing,\" cried Eustace; and then several things happened at the same time. Eustace rushed toward the picture. Edmund, who knew something about magic, sprang after him, warning him to lookout and not to be a fool. Lucy grabbed at him from the other side and was dragged forward. And by this time either they had grown much smaller or the picture had grown bigger. Eustace jumped to try to pull it off the wall and found himself standing on the frame; in front of him was not glass but real sea, and wind and waves rushing up to the frame as they might to a rock. He lost his head and clutched at the other two who had jumped up beside him. There was a second of struggling and shouting, and just as they thought they had got their balance a great blue roller surged up round them, swept them off their feet, and drew them down into the sea. Eustace's despairing cry suddenly ended as the water got into his mouth.\n\nLucy thanked her stars that she had worked hard at her swimming last summer term. It is true that she would have got on much better if she had used a slower stroke, and also that the water felt a great deal colder than it had looked while it was only a picture. Still, she kept her head and kicked her shoes off, as everyone ought to do who falls into deep water in their clothes. She even kept her mouth shut and her eyes open. They were still quite near the ship; she saw its green side towering high above them, and people looking at her from the deck. Then, as one might have expected, Eustace clutched at her in a panic and down they both went." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When they came up again she saw a white figure diving off the ship's side. Edmund was close beside her now, treading water, and had caught the arms of the howling Eustace. Then someone else, whose face was vaguely familiar, slipped an arm under her from the other side. There was a lot of shouting going on from the ship, heads crowding together above the bulwarks, ropes being thrown. Edmund and the stranger were fastening ropes round her. After that followed what seemed a very long delay during which her face got blue and her teeth began chattering. In reality the delay was not very long; they were waiting till the moment when she could begot onboard the ship without being dashed against its side. Even with all their best endeavors she had a bruised knee when she finally stood, dripping and shivering, on the deck. After her Edmund was heaved up, and then the miserable Eustace. Last of all came the stranger-a golden-headed boy some years older than herself.\n\n\"Ca-Ca-Caspian!\" gasped Lucy as soon as she had breath enough. For Caspian it was; Caspian, the boy king of Narnia whom they had helped to set on the throne during their last visit. Immediately Edmund recognized him too. All three shook hands and clapped one another on the back with great delight.\n\n\"But who is your friend?\" said Caspian almost at once, turning to Eustace with his cheerful smile. But Eustace was crying much harder than any boy of his age has aright to cry when nothing worse than a wetting has happened to him, and would only yell out, \"Let me go. Let me go back. I don't like it.\"\n\n\"Let you go?\" said Caspian. \"But where?\"\n\nEustace rushed to the ship's side, as if he expected to seethe picture frame hanging above the sea, and perhaps a glimpse of Lucy's bedroom. What he saw was blue waves flecked with foam, and paler blue sky, both spreading without a break to the horizon. Perhaps we can hardly blame him if his heart sank. He was promptly sick." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Hey! Rynelf,\" said Caspian to one of the sailors. \"Bring spiced wine for their Majesties. You'll need something to warm you after that dip.\" He called Edmund and Lucy their Majesties because they and Peter and Susan had all been Kings and Queens of Narnia long before his time. Narnian time flows differently from ours. If you spent a hundred years in Narnia, you would still comeback to our world at the very same hour of the very same day on which you left. And then, if you went back to Narnia after spending a week here, you might find that a thousand Narnian years had passed, or only a day, or no time at all. You never know till you get there. Consequently, when the Pevensie children had returned to Narnia last time for their second visit, it was (for the Narnians) as if King Arthur came back to Britain, as some people say he will. And I say the sooner the better.\n\nRynelf returned with the spiced wine steaming in a flagon and four silver cups. It was just what one wanted, and as Lucy and Edmund sipped it they could feel the warmth going right down to their toes. But Eustace made faces and spluttered and spat it out and was sick again and began to cry again and asked if they hadn't any Plumptree's Vitaminized Nerve Food and could it be made with distilled water and anyway he insisted on being put ashore at the next station.\n\n\"This is a merry shipmate you've brought us, Brother,\" whispered Caspian to Edmund with a chuckle; but before he could say anything more Eustace burst out again.\n\n\"Oh! Ugh! What on earth's that! Take it away, the horrid thing.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He really had some excuse this time for feeling a little surprised. Something very curious indeed had come out of the cabin in the poop and was slowly approaching them. You might call it-and indeed it was-a Mouse. But then it was a Mouse on its hind legs and stood about two feet high. A thin band of gold passed round its head under one ear and over the other and in this was stuck along crimson feather. (As the Mouse's fur was very dark, almost black, the effect was bold and striking.) Its left paw rested on the hilt of a sword very nearly as long as its tail. Its balance, as it paced gravely along the swaying deck, was perfect, and its manners courtly. Lucy and Edmund recognized it at once-Reepicheep, the most valiant of all the Talking Beasts of Narnia, and the Chief Mouse. It had won undying glory in the second Battle of Beruna. Lucy longed, as she had always done, to take Reepicheep up in her arms and cuddle him. But this, as she well knew, was a pleasure she could never have: it would have offended him deeply. Instead, she went down on one knee to talk to him.\n\nReepicheep put forward his left leg, drew back his right, bowed, kissed her hand, straightened himself, twirled his whiskers, and said in his shrill, piping voice:\n\n\"My humble duty to your Majesty. And to King Edmund, too.\" (Here he bowed again.) \"Nothing except your Majesties' presence was lacking to this glorious venture.\"\n\n\"Ugh, take it away,\" wailed Eustace. \"I hate mice. And I never could bear performing animals. They're silly and vulgar and-and sentimental.\"\n\n\"Am Ito understand,\" said Reepicheep to Lucy after along stare at Eustace, \"that this singularly discourteous person is under your Majesty's protection? Because, if not-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At this moment Lucy and Edmund both sneezed.\n\n\"What a fool I am to keep you all standing herein your wet things,\" said Caspian. \"Come on below and get changed. I'll give you my cabin of course, Lucy, but I'm afraid we have no women's clothes onboard. You'll have to make do with some of mine. Lead the way, Reepicheep, like a good fellow.\"\n\n\"To the convenience of a lady,\" said Reepicheep, \"even a question of honor must give way-at least for the moment-\" and here he looked very hard at Eustace. But Caspian hustled them on and in a few minutes Lucy found herself passing through the door into the stern cabin. She fell in love with it at once-the three square windows that looked out on the blue, swirling water astern, the low cushioned benches round three sides of the table, the swinging silver lamp overhead (Dwarfs'work, she knew at once by its exquisite delicacy) and the flat gold image of Aslan the Lion on the forward wall above the door. All this she took in in a flash, for Caspian immediately opened a door on the starboard side, and said, \"This'll be your room, Lucy. I'll just get some dry things for myself\"-he was rummaging in one of the lockers while he spoke-\"and then leave you to change. If you'll fling your wet things outside the door I'll get them taken to the galley to be dried.\"\n\nLucy found herself as much at home as if she had been in Caspian's cabin for weeks, and the motion of the ship did not worry her, for in the old days when she had been a queen in Narnia she had done a good deal of voyaging. The cabin was very tiny but bright with painted panels (all birds and beasts and crimson dragons and vines) and spotlessly clean. Caspian's clothes were too big for her, but she could manage. His shoes, sandals and seaboots were hopelessly big but she did not mind going barefoot onboard ship. When she had finished dressing she looked out of her window at the water rushing past and took along deep breath. She felt quite sure they were in fora lovely time." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"AH, THERE YOU ARE, LUCY,\" SAID Caspian. \"We were just waiting for you. This is my captain, the Lord Drinian.\"\n\nA dark-haired man went down on one knee and kissed her hand. The only others present were Reepicheep and Edmund.\n\n\"Where is Eustace?\" asked Lucy.\n\n\"In bed,\" said Edmund, \"and I don't think we can do anything for him. It only makes him worse if you try to be nice to him.\"\n\n\"Meanwhile,\" said Caspian, \"we want to talk.\"\n\n\"By Jove, we do,\" said Edmund. \"And first, about time. It's a year ago by our time since we left you just before your coronation. How long has it been in Narnia?\"\n\n\"Exactly three years,\" said Caspian.\n\n\"All going well?\" asked Edmund.\n\n\"You don't suppose I'd have left my kingdom and put to sea unless all was well,\" answered the King. \"It couldn't be better. There's no trouble at all now between Telmarines, Dwarfs, Talking Beasts, Fauns and the rest. And we gave those troublesome giants on the frontier such a good beating last summer that they pay us tribute now. And I had an excellent person to leave as Regent while I'm away-Trumpkin, the Dwarf. You remember him?\"\n\n\"Dear Trumpkin,\" said Lucy, \"of course I do. You couldn't have made a better choice.\"\n\n\"Loyal as a badger, Ma'am, and valiant as-as a Mouse,\" said Drinian. He had been going to say'as a lion\" but had noticed Reepicheep's eyes fixed on him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And where are we heading for?\" asked Edmund.\n\n\"Well,\" said Caspian, \"that's rather along story. Perhaps you remember that when I was a child my usurping uncle Miraz got rid of seven friends of my father's (who might have taken my part) by sending them off to explore the unknown Eastern Seas beyond the Lone Islands.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Lucy, \"and none of them ever came back.\"\n\n\"Right. Well, on my coronation day, with Aslan's approval, I swore an oath that, if once I established peace in Narnia, I would sail east myself fora year and a day to find my father's friends or to learn of their deaths and avenge them if I could. These were their names: the Lord Revilian, the Lord Bern, the Lord Argoz, the Lord Mavramorn, the Lord Octesian, the Lord Restimar, and-oh, that other one who's so hard to remember.\"\n\n\"The Lord Rhoop, Sire,\" said Drinian.\n\n\"Rhoop, Rhoop, of course,\" said Caspian. \"That is my main intention. But Reepicheep here has an even higher hope.\" Everyone's eyes turned to the Mouse.\n\n\"As high as my spirit,\" it said. \"Though perhaps as small as my stature. Why should we not come to the very eastern end of the world? And what might we find there? I expect to find Aslan's own country. It is always from the east, across the sea, that the great Lion comes to us.\"\n\n\"I say, that is an idea,\" said Edmund in an awed voice.\n\n\"But do you think,\" said Lucy, \"Aslan's country would be that sort of country-I mean, the sort you could ever sail to?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I do not know, Madam,\" said Reepicheep." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\" But there is this. When I was in my cradle a wood woman, a Dryad, spoke this verse over me:\n\n\"I do not know what it means. But the spell of it has been on me all my life.\"\n\nAfter a short silence Lucy asked, \"And where are we now, Caspian?\"\n\n\"The Captain can tell you better than I,\" said Caspian, so Drinian got out his chart and spread it on the table.\n\n\"That's our position,\" he said, laying his finger on it. \"Or was at noon today. We had a fair wind from Cair Paravel and stood a little north for Galma, which we made on the next day. We were in port fora week, for the Duke of Galma made a great tournament for His Majesty and there he unhorsed many knights-\"\n\n\"And got a few nasty falls myself, Drinian. Some of the bruises are there still,\" put in Caspian.\n\n\"-And unhorsed many knights,\" repeated Drinian with a grin. \"We thought the Duke would have been pleased if the King's Majesty would have married his daughter, but nothing came of that-\"\n\n\"Squints, and has freckles,\" said Caspian.\n\n\"Oh, poor girl,\" said Lucy.\n\n\"And we sailed from Galma,\" continued Drinian, \"and ran into a calm for the best part of two days and had to row, and then had wind again and did not make Terebinthia till the fourth day from Galma. And there their King sent out a warning not to land for there was sickness in Terebinthia, but we doubled the cape and put in at a little creek far from the city and watered. Then we had to lie off for three days before we got a southeast wind and stood out for Seven Isles. The third day out a pirate (Terebinthian by her rig) overhauled us, but when she saw us well armed she stood off after some shooting of arrows on either part-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And we ought to have given her chase and boarded her and hanged every mother's son of them,\" said Reepicheep.\n\n\"-And in five days more we were insight of Muil, which, as you know, is the westernmost of the Seven Isles. Then we rowed through the straits and came about sundown into Redhaven on the isle of Brenn, where we were very lovingly feasted and had victuals and water at will. We left Redhaven six days ago and have made marvelously good speed, so that I hope to seethe Lone Islands the day after tomorrow. The sum is, we are now nearly thirty days at sea and have sailed more than four hundred leagues from Narnia.\"\n\n\"And after the Lone Islands?\" said Lucy.\n\n\"No one knows, your Majesty,\" answered Drinian. \"Unless the Lone Islanders themselves can tell us.\"\n\n\"They couldn't in our days,\" said Edmund.\n\n\"Then,\" said Reepicheep, \"it is after the Lone Islands that the adventure really begins.\"\n\nCaspian now suggested that they might like to be shown over the ship before supper, but Lucy's conscience smote her and she said, \"I think I really must go and see Eustace. Seasickness is horrid, you know. If I had my old cordial with me I could cure him.\"\n\n\"But you have,\" said Caspian. \"I'd quite forgotten about it. As you left it behind I thought it might be regarded as one of the royal treasures and so I brought it-if you think it ought to be wasted on a thing like seasickness.\"\n\n\"It'll only take a drop,\" said Lucy.\n\nCaspian opened one of the lockers beneath the bench and brought out the beautiful little diamond flask which Lucy remembered so well. \"Take back your own, Queen,\" he said. They then left the cabin and went out into the sunshine." }, { "from": "human", "value": "In the deck there were two large, long hatches, fore and aft of the mast, and both open, as they always were in fair weather, to let light and air into the belly of the ship." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Caspian led them down a ladder into the after hatch. Here they found themselves in a place where benches for rowing ran from side to side and the light came in through the oarholes and danced on the roof. Of course Caspian's ship was not that horrible thing, a galley rowed by slaves. Oars were used only when wind failed or forgetting in and out of harbor and everyone (except Reepicheep whose legs were too short) had often taken a turn. At each side of the ship the space under the benches was left clear for the rowers\" feet, but all down the center there was a kind of pit which went down to the very keel and this was filled with all kinds of things-sacks of flour, casks of water and beer, barrels of pork, jars of honey, skin bottles of wine, apples, nuts, cheeses, biscuits, turnips, sides of bacon. From the roof-that is, from the underside of the deck-hung hams and strings of onions, and also the men of the watch off-duty in their hammocks, Caspian led them aft, stepping from bench to bench; at least, it was stepping for him, and something between a step and a jump for Lucy, and areal long jump for Reepicheep. In this way they came to a partition with a door in it. Caspian opened the door and led them into a cabin which filled the stern underneath the deck cabins in the poop. It was of course not so nice. It was very low and the sides sloped together as they went down so that there was hardly any floor; and though it had windows of thick glass, they were not made to open because they were underwater. In fact at this very moment, as the ship pitched they were alternately golden with sunlight and dim green with the sea.\n\n\"You and I must lodge here, Edmund,\" said Caspian. \"We'll leave your kinsman the bunk and sling hammocks for ourselves.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I beseech your Majesty-\" said Drinian.\n\n\"No, no shipmate,\" said Caspian, \"we have argued all that out already. You and Rhince\" (Rhince was the mate) \"are sailing the ship and will have cares and labors many a night when we are singing catches or telling stories, so you and he must have the port cabin above. King Edmund and I can lie very snug here below. But how is the stranger?\"\n\nEustace, very green in the face, scowled and asked whether there was any sign of the storm getting less. But Caspian said, \"What storm?\" and Drinian burst out laughing.\n\n\"Storm, young master!\" he roared. \"This is as fair weather as a man could ask for.\"\n\n\"Who's that?\" said Eustace irritably. \"Send him away. His voice goes through my head.\"\n\n\"I've brought you something that will make you feel better, Eustace,\" said Lucy.\n\n\"Oh, go away and leave me alone,\" growled Eustace. But he took a drop from her flask, and though he said it was beastly stuff (the smell in the cabin when she opened it was delicious) it is certain that his face came the right color a few moments after he had swallowed it, and he must have felt better because, instead of wailing about the storm and his head, he began demanding to be put ashore and said that at the first port he would'lodge a disposition\" against them all with the British Consul. But when Reepicheep asked what a disposition was and how you lodged it (Reepicheep thought it was some new way of arranging a single combat) Eustace could only reply, \"Fancy not knowing that.\" In the end they succeeded in convincing Eustace that they were already sailing as fast as they could toward the nearest land they knew, and that they had no more power of sending him back to Cambridge-which was where Uncle Harold lived-than of sending him to the moon. After that he sulkily agreed to put on the fresh clothes which had been putout for him and come on deck." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Caspian now showed them over the ship, though indeed they had seen most of it already." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They went upon the forecastle and saw the lookout man standing on a little shelf inside the gilded dragon's neck and peering through its open mouth. Inside the forecastle was the galley (or ship's kitchen) and quarters for such people as the boatswain, the carpenter, the cook and the master-archer. If you think it odd to have the galley in the bows and imagine the smoke from its chimney streaming back over the ship, that is because you are thinking of steamships where there is always a headwind. On a sailing ship the wind is coming from behind, and anything smelly is put as far forward as possible. They were taken up to the fighting-top, and at first it was rather alarming to rock to and fro there and seethe deck looking small and faraway beneath. You realized that if you fell there was no particular reason why you should fall onboard rather than in the sea. Then they were taken to the poop, where Rhince was on duty with another man at the great tiller, and behind that the dragon's tail rose up, covered with gilding, and round inside it ran a little bench. The name of the ship was Dawn Treader. She was only a little bit of a thing compared with one of our ships, or even with the cogs, dromonds, carracks and galleons which Narnia had owned when Lucy and Edmund had reigned thereunder Peter as the High King, for nearly all navigation had died out in the reigns of Caspian's ancestors. When his uncle, Miraz the usurper, had sent the seven lords to sea, they had had to buy a Galmian ship and man it with hired Galmian sailors. But now Caspian had begun to teach the Narnians to be sea-faring folk once more, and the Dawn Treader was the finest ship he had built yet. She was so small that, forward of the mast, there was hardly any deck room between the central hatch and the ship's boat on one side and the hen-coop (Lucy fed the hens) on the other. But she was a beauty of her kind, a'lady\" as sailors say, her lines perfect, her colors pure, and every spar and rope and pin lovingly made. Eustace of course would be pleased with nothing, and kept on boasting about liners and motorboats and aeroplanes and submarines (\"As if he knew anything about them,\" muttered Edmund), but the other two were delighted with the Dawn Treader, and when they returned aft to the cabin and supper, and saw the whole western sky lit up with an immense crimson sunset, and felt the quiver of the ship, and tasted the salt on their lips, and thought of unlands on the Eastern rim of the world, Lucy felt that she was almost too happy to speak.\n\nWhat Eustace thought had best be told in his own words, for when they all got their clothes back, dried, next morning, heat once got out a little black notebook and a pencil and started to keep a diary. He always had this notebook with him and kept a record of his marks in it, for though he didn't care much about any subject for its own sake, he cared a great deal about marks and would even go to people and say, \"I got so much. What did you get?\" But as he didn't seem likely to get many marks on the Dawn Treader he now started a diary. This was the first entry." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"August 7th. Have now been twenty-four hours on this ghastly boat if it isn't a dream. All the time a frightful storm has been raging (it's a good thing I'm not seasick). Huge waves keep coming in over the front and I have seen the boat nearly go under any number of times. All the others pretend to take no notice of this, either from swank or because Harold says one of the most cowardly things ordinary people do is to shut their eyes to Facts. It's madness to come out into the sea in a rotten little thing like this. Not much bigger than a lifeboat. And, of course, absolutely primitive indoors. No proper saloon, no radio, no bathrooms, no deck-chairs. I was dragged allover it yesterday evening and it would make anyone sick to hear Caspian showing off his funny little toy boat as if it was the Queen Mary. I tried to tell him what real ships are like, but he's too dense. E. and L., of course, didn't back me up. I suppose a kid like L. doesn't realize the danger and E. is buttering up C. as everyone does here. They call him a King. I said I was a Republican but he had to ask me what that meant! He doesn't seem to know anything at all. Needless to say I've been put in the worst cabin of the boat, a perfect dungeon, and Lucy has been given a whole room on deck to herself, almost a nice room compared with the rest of this place. C. says that's because she's a girl. I tried to make him see what Alberta says, that all that sort of thing is really lowering girls but he was too dense. Still, he might see that I shall be ill if I'm kept in that hole any longer. E. says we mustn't grumble because C. is sharing it with us himself to make room for L. As if that didn't make it more crowded and far worse. Nearly forgot to say that there is also a kind of Mouse thing that gives everyone the most frightful cheek. The others can put up with it if they like but I shall twist his tail pretty soon if he tries it on me. The food is frightful too.\"\n\nThe trouble between Eustace and Reepicheep arrived even sooner than might have been expected. Before dinner next day, when the others were sitting round the table waiting (being at sea gives one a magnificent appetite), Eustace came rushing in, wringing his hand and shouting out:" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That little brute has half killed me. I insist on it being kept under control. I could bring an action against you, Caspian. I could order you to have it destroyed.\"\n\nAt the same moment Reepicheep appeared. His sword was drawn and his whiskers looked very fierce but he was as polite as ever.\n\n\"I ask your pardons all,\" he said, \"and especially her Majesty's. If I had known that he would take refuge here I would have awaited a more reasonable time for his correction.\"\n\n\"What on earth's up?\" asked Edmund.\n\nWhat had really happened was this. Reepicheep, who never felt that the ship was getting on fast enough, loved to sit on the bulwarks far forward just beside the dragon's head, gazing out at the eastern horizon and singing softly in his little chirruping voice the song the Dryad had made for him. He never held onto anything, however the ship pitched, and kept his balance with perfect ease; perhaps his long tail, hanging down to the deck inside the bulwarks, made this easier. Everyone onboard was familiar with this habit, and the sailors liked it because when one was on look-out duty it gave one somebody to talk to. Why exactly Eustace had slipped and reeled and stumbled all the way forward to the forecastle (he had not yet got his sea-legs) I never heard. Perhaps he hoped he would see land, or perhaps he wanted to hang about the galley and scrounge something. Anyway, as soon as he saw that long tail hanging down-and perhaps it was rather tempting-he thought it would be delightful to catch hold of it, swing Reepicheep round by it once or twice upside-down, then runaway and laugh. At first the plan seemed to work beautifully. The Mouse was not much heavier than a very large cat. Eustace had him off the rail in a trice and very silly he looked (thought Eustace) with his little limbs all splayed out and his mouth open. But unfortunately Reepicheep, who had fought for his life many a time, never lost his head even fora moment. Nor his skill. It is not very easy to draw one's sword when one is swinging round in the air by one's tail, but he did. And the next thing Eustace knew was two agonizing jabs in his hand which made him let goof the tail; and the next thing after that was that the Mouse had picked itself up again as if it were a ball bouncing off the deck, and there it was facing him, and a horrid long, bright, sharp thing like a skewer was waving to and fro within an inch of his stomach. (This doesn't count as below the belt for mice in Narnia because they can hardly be expected to reach higher.)" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Stop it,\" spluttered Eustace, \"go away." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Put that thing away. It's not safe. Stop it, I say. I'll tell Caspian. I'll have you muzzled and tied up.\"\n\n\"Why do you not draw your own sword, poltroon!\" cheeped the Mouse. \"Draw and fight or I'll beat you black and blue with the flat.\"\n\n\"I haven't got one,\" said Eustace. \"I'm a pacifist. I don't believe infighting.\"\n\n\"Do I understand,\" said Reepicheep, withdrawing his sword fora moment and speaking very sternly, \"that you do not intend to give me satisfaction?\"\n\n\"I don't know what you mean,\" said Eustace, nursing his hand. \"If you don't know how to take a joke I shan't bother my head about you.\"\n\n\"Then take that,\" said Reepicheep, \"and that-to teach you manners-and the respect due to a knight-and a Mouse-and a Mouse's tail-\" and at each word he gave Eustace a blow with the side of his rapier, which was thin, fine, dwarf-tempered steel and as supple and effective as a birch rod. Eustace (of course) was at a school where they didn't have corporal punishment, so the sensation was quite new to him. That was why, in spite of having no sea-legs, it took him less than a minute to get off that forecastle and cover the whole length of the deck and burst in at the cabin door-still hotly pursued by Reepicheep. Indeed it seemed to Eustace that the rapier as well as the pursuit was hot. It might have been red-hot by the feel.\n\nThere was not much difficulty in settling the matter once Eustace realized that everyone took the idea of a duel seriously and heard Caspian offering to lend him a sword, and Drinian and Edmund discussing whether he ought to be handicapped in someway to makeup for his being so much bigger than Reepicheep. He apologized sulkily and went off with Lucy to have his hand bathed and bandaged and then went to his bunk. He was careful to lie on his side." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"LAND INSIGHT,\" SHOUTED THE MAN IN the bows.\n\nLucy, who had been talking to Rhince on the poop, came pattering down the ladder and raced forward. As she went she was joined by Edmund, and they found Caspian, Drinian and Reepicheep already on the forecastle. It was a coldish morning, the sky very pale and the sea very dark blue with little whitecaps of foam, and there, a little way off on the starboard bow, was the nearest of the Lone Islands, Felimath, like a low green hill in the sea, and behind it, further off, the gray slopes of its sister Doorn.\n\n\"Same old Felimath! Same old Doorn,\" said Lucy, clapping her hands. \"Oh-Edmund, how long it is since you and I saw them last!\"\n\n\"I've never understood why they belong to Narnia,\" said Caspian. \"Did Peter the High King conquer them?\"\n\n\"Oh no,\" said Edmund. \"They were Narnian before our time-in the days of the White Witch.\"\n\n(By the way, I have never yet heard how these remote islands became attached to the crown of Narnia; if I ever do, and if the story is at all interesting, I may put it in some other book.)\n\n\"Are we to put inhere, Sire?\" asked Drinian.\n\n\"I shouldn't think it would be much good landing on Felimath,\" said Edmund. \"It was almost uninhabited in our days and it looks as if it was the same still. The people lived mostly on Doorn and a little on Avra-that's the third one; you can't see it yet. They only kept sheep on Felimath.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Then we'll have to double that cape, I suppose,\" said Drinian, \"and land on Doorn. That'll mean rowing.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry we're not landing on Felimath,\" said Lucy. \"I'd like to walk there again. It was so lonely-a nice kind of loneliness, and all grass and clover and soft sea air.\"\n\n\"I'd love to stretch my legs too,\" said Caspian. \"I tell you what. Why shouldn't we go ashore in the boat and send it back, and then we could walk across Felimath and let the Dawn Treader pick us upon the other side?\"\n\nIf Caspian had been as experienced then as he became later on in this voyage he would not have made this suggestion; but at the moment it seemed an excellent one. \"Oh do let's,\" said Lucy.\n\n\"You'll come, will you?\" said Caspian to Eustace, who had come on deck with his hand bandaged.\n\n\"Anything to get off this blasted boat,\" said Eustace.\n\n\"Blasted?\" said Drinian. \"How do you mean?\"\n\n\"Ina civilized country like where I come from,\" said Eustace, \"the ships are so big that when you're inside you wouldn't know you were at sea at all.\"\n\n\"In that case you might just as well stay ashore,\" said Caspian. \"Will you tell them to lower the boat, Drinian?\"\n\nThe King, the Mouse, the two Pevensies, and Eustace all got into the boat and were pulled to the beach of Felimath. When the boat had left them and was being rowed back they all turned and looked round. They were surprised at how small the Dawn Treader looked.\n\nLucy was of course barefoot, having kicked off her shoes while swimming, but that is no hardship if one is going to walk on downy turf. It was delightful to be ashore again and to smell the earth and grass, even if at first the ground seemed to be pitching up and down like a ship, as it usually does fora while if one has been at sea. It was much warmer here than it had been onboard and Lucy found the sand pleasant to her feet as they crossed it. There was a lark singing." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They struck inland and up a fairly steep, though low, hill. At the top of course they looked back, and there was the Dawn Treader shining like a great bright insect and crawling slowly north-westward with her oars. Then they went over the ridge and could see her no longer.\n\nDoorn now lay before them, divided from Felimath by a channel about a mile wide; behind it and to the left lay Avra. The little white town of Narrowhaven on Doorn was easily seen.\n\n\"Hullo! What's this?\" said Edmund suddenly.\n\nIn the green valley to which they were descending six or seven rough-looking men, all armed, were sitting by a tree.\n\n\"Don't tell them who we are,\" said Caspian.\n\n\"And pray, your Majesty, why not?\" said Reepicheep who had consented to ride on Lucy's shoulder.\n\n\"It just occurred tome,\" replied Caspian, \"that no one here can have heard from Narnia fora longtime. It's just possible they may not still acknowledge our over-lordship. In which case it might not be quite safe to be known as the King.\"\n\n\"We have our swords, Sire,\" said Reepicheep.\n\n\"Yes, Reep, I know we have,\" said Caspian. \"But if it is a question of re-conquering the three islands, I'd prefer to comeback with a rather larger army.\"\n\nBy this time they were quite close to the strangers, one of whom-a big black-haired fellow-shouted out, \"A good morning to you.\"\n\n\"And a good morning to you,\" said Caspian. \"Is there still a Governor of the Lone Islands?\"\n\n\"To be sure there is,\" said the man, \"Governor Gumpas. His Sufficiency is at Narrowhaven. But you'll stay and drink with us.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Caspian thanked him, though neither he nor the others much liked the look of their new acquaintance, and all of them sat down. But hardly had they raised their cups to their lips when the black-haired man nodded to his companions and, as quick as lightning, all the five visitors found themselves wrapped in strong arms. There was a moment's struggle but all the advantages were on one side, and soon everyone was disarmed and had their hands tied behind their backs-except Reepicheep, writhing in his captor's grip and biting furiously.\n\n\"Careful with that beast, Tacks,\" said the Leader. \"Don't damage him. He'll fetch the best price of the lot, I shouldn't wonder.\"\n\n\"Coward! Poltroon!\" squeaked Reepicheep. \"Give me my sword and free my paws if you dare.\"\n\n\"Whew!\" whistled the slave merchant (for that is what he was). \"It can talk! Well I never did. Blowed if I take less than two hundred crescents for him.\" The Calormen crescent, which is the chief coin in those parts, is worth about a third of a pound.\n\n\"So that's what you are,\" said Caspian. \"A kidnapper and slaver. I hope you're proud of it.\"\n\n\"Now, now, now, now,\" said the slaver. \"Don't you start any jaw. The easier you take it, the pleasanter all round, see? I don't do this for fun. I've got my living to make same as anyone else.\"\n\n\"Where will you take us?\" asked Lucy, getting the words outwith some difficulty.\n\n\"Over to Narrowhaven,\" said the slaver. \"For market day tomorrow.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Is there a British Consul there?\" asked Eustace.\n\n\"Is there a which?\" said the man.\n\nBut long before Eustace was tired of trying to explain, the slaver simply said, \"Well, I've had enough of this jabber. The Mouse is a fair treat but this one would talk the hind leg off a donkey. Off we go, mates.\"\n\nThen the four human prisoners were roped together, not cruelly but securely, and made to march down to the shore. Reepicheep was carried. He had stopped biting on a threat of having his mouth tied up, but he had a great deal to say, and Lucy really wondered how any man could bear to have the things said to him which were said to the slave dealer by the Mouse. But the slave dealer, far from objecting, only said'Goon\" whenever Reepicheep paused for breath, occasionally adding, \"It's as good as a play,\" or, \"Blimey, you can't help almost thinking it knows what it's saying!\" or'Was it one of you what trained it?\" This so infuriated Reepicheep that in the end the number of things he thought of saying all at once nearly suffocated him and he became silent.\n\nWhen they got down to the shore that looked toward Doorn they found a little village and along-boat on the beach and, lying a little further out, a dirty bedraggled looking ship.\n\n\"Now, youngsters,\" said the slave dealer, \"let's have no fuss and then you'll have nothing to cry about. All aboard.\"\n\nAt that momenta fine-looking bearded man came out of one of the houses (an inn, I think) and said:\n\n\"Well, Pug. More of your usual wares?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The slaver, whose name seemed to be Pug, bowed very low, and said in a wheedling kind of voice, \"Yes, please your Lordship.\"\n\n\"How much do you want for that boy?\" asked the other, pointing to Caspian.\n\n\"Ah,\" said Pug, \"I knew your Lordship would pick on the best. No deceiving your Lordship with anything second rate. That boy, now, I've taken a fancy to him myself. Got kind of fond of him, I have. I'm that tender-hearted I didn't ever ought to have taken up this job. Still, to a customer like your Lordship-\"\n\n\"Tell me your price, carrion,\" said the Lord sternly. \"Do you think I want to listen to the rigmarole of your filthy trade?\"\n\n\"Three hundred crescents, my Lord, to your honorable Lordship, but to anyone else-\"\n\n\"I'll give you a hundred and fifty.\"\n\n\"Oh please, please,\" broke in Lucy. \"Don't separate us, whatever you do. You don't know-\" But then she stopped for she saw that Caspian didn't even now want to be known.\n\n\"A hundred and fifty, then,\" said the Lord. \"As for you, little maiden, I am sorry I cannot buy you all. Unrope my boy, Pug. And look-treat these others well while they are in your hands or it'll be the worse for you.\"\n\n\"Well!\" said Pug. \"Now whoever heard of a gentleman in my way of business who treated his stock better than what I do? Well? Why, I treat 'em like my own children.\"\n\n\"That's likely enough to be true,\" said the other grimly." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The dreadful moment had now come." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Caspian was untied and his new master said, \"This way, lad,\" and Lucy burst into tears and Edmund looked very blank. But Caspian looked over his shoulder and said, \"Cheer up. I'm sure it will come all right in the end. So long.\"\n\n\"Now, missie,\" said Pug. \"Don't you start taking on and spoiling your looks for the market tomorrow. You be a good girl and then you won't have nothing to cry about, see?\"\n\nThen they were rowed out to the slave-ship and taken below into along, rather dark place, none too clean, where they found many other unfortunate prisoners; for Pug was of course a pirate and had just returned from cruising among the islands and capturing what he could. The children didn't meet anyone whom they knew; the prisoners were mostly Galmians and Terebinthians. And there they satin the straw and wondered what was happening to Caspian and tried to stop Eustace talking as if everyone except himself was to blame.\n\nMeanwhile Caspian was having a much more interesting time. The man who had bought him led him down a little lane between two of the village houses and so out into an open place behind the village. Then he turned and faced him.\n\n\"You needn't be afraid of me, boy,\" he said. \"I'll treat you well. I bought you for your face. You reminded me of someone.\"\n\n\"May I ask of whom, my Lord?\" said Caspian.\n\n\"You remind me of my master, King Caspian of Narnia.\"\n\nThen Caspian decided to risk everything on one stroke.\n\n\"My Lord,\" he said, \"I am your master. I am Caspian, King of Narnia.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You make very free,\" said the other. \"How shall I know this is true?\"\n\n\"Firstly by my face,\" said Caspian. \"Secondly because I know within six guesses who you are. You are one of those seven lords of Narnia whom my Uncle Miraz sent to sea and whom I have come out to look for-Argoz, Bern, Octesian, Restimar, Mavramorn, or-or-I have forgotten the others. And finally, if your Lordship will give me a sword I will prove on any man's body in clean battle that I am Caspian the son of Caspian, lawful King of Narnia, Lord of Cair Paravel, and Emperor of the Lone Islands.\"\n\n\"By heaven,\" exclaimed the man, \"it is his father's very voice and trick of speech. My liege-your Majesty-\" And therein the field he knelt and kissed the King's hand.\n\n\"The moneys your Lordship disbursed for our person will be made good from our own treasury,\" said Caspian.\n\n\"They're not in Pug's purse yet, Sire,\" said the Lord Bern, for he it was. \"And never will be, I trust. I have moved His Sufficiency the Governor a hundred times to crush this vile traffic in man's flesh.\"\n\n\"My Lord Bern,\" said Caspian, \"we must talk of the state of these Islands. But first what is your Lordship's own story?\"\n\n\"Short enough, Sire,\" said Bern. \"I came thus far with my six fellows, loved a girl of the islands, and felt I had had enough of the sea. And there was no purpose in returning to Narnia while your Majesty's uncle held the reins. So I married and have lived here ever since.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And what is this governor, this Gumpas, like? Does he still acknowledge the King of Narnia for his lord?\"\n\n\"In words, yes. All is done in the King's name. But he would not be best pleased to find areal, live King of Narnia coming in upon him. And if your Majesty came before him alone and unarmed-well he would not deny his allegiance, but he would pretend to disbelieve you. Your Grace's life would be in danger. What following has your Majesty in these waters?\"\n\n\"There is my ship just rounding the point,\" said Caspian. \"We are about thirty swords if it came to fighting. Shall we not have my ship in and fall upon Pug and free my friends whom he holds captive?\"\n\n\"Not by my counsel,\" said Bern. \"As soon as there was a fight two or three ships would putout from Narrowhaven to rescue Pug. Your Majesty must work by a show of more power than you really have, and by the terror of the King's name. It must not come to plain battle. Gumpas is a chicken-hearted man and can be over-awed.\"\n\nAfter a little more conversation Caspian and Bern walked down to the coast a little west of the village and there Caspian winded his horn. (This was not the great magic horn of Narnia, Queen Susan's Horn: he had left that at home for his regent Trumpkin to use if any great need fell upon the land in the King's absence.) Drinian, who was on the lookout fora signal, recognized the royal horn at once and the Dawn Treader began standing into shore. Then the boat put off again and in a few moments Caspian and the Lord Bern were on deck explaining the situation to Drinian. He, just like Caspian, wanted to lay the Dawn Treader alongside the slave-ship at once and board her, but Bern made the same objection." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Steer straight down this channel, captain,\" said Bern, \"and then round to Avra where my own estates are. But first run up the King's banner, hangout all the shields, and send as many men to the fighting-top as you can. And about five bow-shots hence, when you get open sea on your port bow, run up a few signals.\"\n\n\"Signals? To whom?\" said Drinian.\n\n\"Why, to all the other ships we haven't got but which it might be well that Gumpas thinks we have.\"\n\n\"Oh, I see,\" said Drinian, rubbing his hands. \"And they'll read our signals. What shall I say? Whole fleet round the South of Avra and assemble at-?\"\n\n\"Bernstead,\" said the Lord Bern. \"That'll do excellently. Their whole journey-if there were any ships-would be out of sight from Narrowhaven.\"\n\nCaspian was sorry for the others languishing in the hold of Pug's slave-ship, but he could not help finding the rest of that day enjoyable. Late in the afternoon (for they had to do all by oar), having turned to starboard round the northeast end of Doorn and port again round the point of Avra, they entered into a good harbor on Avra's southern shore where Bern's pleasant lands sloped down to the water's edge. Bern's people, many of whom they saw working in the fields, were all freemen and it was a happy and prosperous fief. Here they all went ashore and were royally feasted in a low, pillared house overlooking the bay. Bern and his gracious wife and merry daughters made them good cheer. But after dark Bern sent a messenger over by boat to Doorn to order some preparations (he did not say exactly what) for the following day." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "NEXT MORNING THE LORD BERN CALLED his guests early, and after breakfast he asked Caspian to order every man he had into full armor. \"And above all,\" he added, \"let everything be as trim and scoured as if it were the morning of the first battle in a great war between noble kings with all the world looking on.\" This was done; and then in three boatloads Caspian and his people, and Bern with a few of his, putout for Narrowhaven. The King's flag flew in the stern of his boat and his trumpeter was with him.\n\nWhen they reached the jetty at Narrowhaven, Caspian found a considerable crowd assembled to meet them. \"This is what I sent word about last night,\" said Bern, \"They are all friends of mine and honest people.\" And as soon as Caspian stepped ashore the crowd broke out into hurrahs and shouts of, \"Narnia! Narnia! Long live the King.\" At the same moment-and this was also due to Bern's messengers-bells began ringing from many parts of the town. Then Caspian caused his banner to be advanced and his trumpet to be blown and every man drew his sword and set his face into a joyful sternness, and they marched up the street so that the street shook, and their armor shone (for it was a sunny morning) so that one could hardly look at it steadily.\n\nAt first the only people who cheered were those who had been warned by Bern's messenger and knew what was happening and wanted it to happen. But then all the children joined in because they liked a procession and had seen very few. And then all the schoolboys joined in because they also liked processions and felt that the more noise and disturbance there was the less likely they would be to have any school that morning. And then all the old women put their heads out of doors and windows and began chattering and cheering because it was a king, and what is a governor compared with that? And all the young women joined in for the same reason and also because Caspian and Drinian and the rest were so handsome. And then all the young men came to see what the young women were looking at, so that by the time Caspian reached the castle gates, nearly the whole town was shouting; and where Gumpas satin the castle, muddling and messing about with accounts and forms and rules and regulations, he heard the noise." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At the castle gate Caspian's trumpeter blew a blast and cried, \"Open for the King of Narnia, come to visit his trusty and well-beloved servant the governor of the Lone Islands.\" In those days everything in the islands was done in a slovenly, slouching manner. Only the little postern opened, and out came a tousled fellow with a dirty old hat on his head instead of a helmet, and a rusty old pike in his hand. He blinked at the flashing figures before him. \"Carn-seez-fishansy,\" he mumbled (which was his way of saying, \"You can't see His Sufficiency\"). \"No interviews without \"pointments'cept \"tween nine'n' ten p. m. second Saturday every month.\"\n\n\"Uncover before Narnia, you dog,\" thundered the Lord Bern, and dealt him a rap with his gauntleted hand which sent his hat flying from his head.\n\n\"\"Ere? Wot's it all about?\" began the doorkeeper, but no one took any notice of him. Two of Caspian's men stepped through the postern and after some struggling with bars and bolts (for everything was rusty) flung both wings of the gate wide open. Then the King and his followers strode into the courtyard. Here a number of the governor's guards were lounging about and several more (they were mostly wiping their mouths) came tumbling out of various doorways. Though their armor was in a disgraceful condition, these were fellows who might have fought if they had been led or had known what was happening; so this was the dangerous moment. Caspian gave them no time to think.\n\n\"Where is the captain?\" he asked.\n\n\"I am, more or less, if you know what I mean,\" said a languid and rather dandified young person without any armor at all." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"It is our wish,\" said Caspian, \"that our royal visitation to our realm of the Lone Islands should, if possible, bean occasion of joy and not of terror to our loyal subjects." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If it were not for that, I should have something to say about the state of your men's armor and weapons. As it is, you are pardoned. Command a cask of wine to be opened that your men may drink our health. But at noon tomorrow I wish to see them herein this courtyard looking like men-at-arms and not like vagabonds. See to it on pain of our extreme displeasure.\"\n\nThe captain gaped but Bern immediately cried, \"Three cheers for the King,\" and the soldiers, who had understood about the cask of wine even if they understood nothing else, joined in. Caspian then ordered most of his own men to remain in the courtyard. He, with Bern and Drinian and four others, went into the hall.\n\nBehind a table at the far end with various secretaries about him sat his Sufficiency, the Governor of the Lone Islands. Gumpas was a bilious-looking man with hair that had once been red and was now mostly gray. He glanced up as the strangers entered and then looked down at his papers saying automatically, \"No interviews without appointments except between nine and ten p. m. on second Saturdays.\"\n\nCaspian nodded to Bern and then stood aside. Bern and Drinian took a step forward and each seized one end of the table. They lifted it, and flung it on one side of the hall where it rolled over, scattering a cascade of letters, dossiers, inkpots, pens, sealing-wax and documents. Then, not roughly but as firmly as if their hands were pincers of steel, they plucked Gumpas out of his chair and deposited him, facing it, about four feet away. Caspian at once sat down in the chair and laid his naked sword across his knees.\n\n\"My Lord,\" said he, fixing his eyes on Gumpas, \"you have not given us quite the welcome we expected. We are the King of Narnia.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Nothing about it in the correspondence,\" said the governor. \"Nothing in the minutes. We have not been notified of any such thing. All irregular. Happy to consider any applications-\"\n\n\"And we are come to inquire into your Sufficiency's conduct of your office,\" continued Caspian. \"There are two points especially on which I require an explanation. Firstly I find no record that the tribute due from these Islands to the crown of Narnia has been received for about a hundred and fifty years.\"\n\n\"That would be a question to raise at the Council next month,\" said Gumpas. \"If anyone moves that a commission of inquiry beset up to report on the financial history of the islands at the first meeting next year, why then...\"\n\n\"I also find it very clearly written in our laws,\" Caspian went on, \"that if the tribute is not delivered the whole debt has to be paid by the Governor of the Lone Islands out of his private purse.\"\n\nAt this Gumpas began to pay real attention. \"Oh, that's quite out of the question,\" he said. \"It is an economic impossibility-er-your Majesty must be joking.\"\n\nInside, he was wondering if there were anyway of getting rid of these unwelcome visitors. Had he known that Caspian had only one ship and one ship's company with him, he would have spoken soft words for the moment, and hoped to have them all surrounded and killed during the night. But he had seen a ship of war sail down the straits yesterday and seen it signaling, as he supposed, to its consorts. He had not then known it was the King's ship for there was not wind enough to spread the flag out and make the golden lion visible, so he had waited further developments. Now he imagined that Caspian had a whole fleet at Bernstead. It would never have occurred to Gumpas that anyone would walk into Narrowhaven to take the islands with less than fifty men; it was certainly not at all the kind of thing he could imagine doing himself." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Secondly,\" said Caspian, \"I want to know why you have permitted this abominable and unnatural traffic in slaves to grow up here, contrary to the ancient custom and usage of our dominions.\"\n\n\"Necessary, unavoidable,\" said his Sufficiency. \"An essential part of the economic development of the islands, I assure you. Our present burst of prosperity depends on it.\"\n\n\"What need have you of slaves?\"\n\n\"For export, your Majesty. Sell 'em to Calormen mostly; and we have other markets. We area great center of the trade.\"\n\n\"In other words,\" said Caspian, \"you don't need them. Tell me what purpose they serve except to put money into the pockets of such as Pug?\"\n\n\"Your Majesty's tender years,\" said Gumpas, with what was meant to be a fatherly smile, \"hardly make it possible that you should understand the economic problem involved. I have statistics, I have graphs, I have-\"\n\n\"Tender as my years maybe,\" said Caspian, \"I believe I understand the slave trade from within quite as well as your Sufficiency. And I do not see that it brings into the islands meat or bread or beer or wine or timber or cabbages or books or instruments of music or horses or armor or anything else worth having. But whether it does or not, it must be stopped.\"\n\n\"But that would be putting the clock back,\" gasped the governor. \"Have you no idea of progress, of development?\"\n\n\"I have seen them both in an egg,\" said Caspian. \"We call it \"Going Bad\" in Narnia. This trade must stop.\"\n\n\"I can take no responsibility for any such measure,\" said Gumpas.\n\n\"Very well, then,\" answered Caspian, \"we relieve you of your office. My Lord Bern, come here.\" And before Gumpas quite realized what was happening, Bern was kneeling with his hands between the King's hands and taking the oath to govern the Lone Islands in accordance with the old customs, rights, usages and laws of Narnia. And Caspian said, \"I think we have had enough of governors,\" and made Bern a Duke, the Duke of the Lone Islands." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Carry on with the narrative as the plot partner.\nTags: fantasy, chronicle of narnia, sea voyage\nAuthor: C.S. Lewis\nTitle: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader\nChapter: 13" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Instantly a most extraordinary thing happened. Each of the'mushrooms\" suddenly turned upside-down. The little bundles which had lain at the bottom of the stalks were heads and bodies. The stalks themselves were legs. But not two legs to each body. Each body had a single thick leg right under it (not to one side like the leg of a one-legged man) and at the end of it, a single enormous foot-abroad-toed foot with the toes curling up a little so that it looked rather like a small canoe. She saw in a moment why they had looked like mushrooms. They had been lying flat on their backs each with its single leg straight up in the air and its enormous foot spread out above it. She learned afterward that this was their ordinary way of resting; for the foot kept off both rain and sun and fora Monopod to lie under its own foot is almost as good as being in a tent.\n\n\"Oh, the funnies, the funnies,\" cried Lucy, bursting into laughter. \"Did you make them like that?\"\n\n\"Yes, yes. I made the Duffers into Monopods,\" said the Magician. He too was laughing till the tears ran down his cheeks. \"But watch,\" he added.\n\nIt was worth watching. Of course these little one-footed men couldn't walk or run as we do. They got about by jumping, like fleas or frogs. And what jumps they made!-as if each big foot were amass of springs. And with what a bounce they came down; that was what made the thumping noise which had so puzzled Lucy yesterday. For now they were jumping in all directions and calling out to one another, \"Hey, lads! We're visible again.\"\n\n\"Visible we are,\" said one in a tasseled redcap who was obviously the Chief Monopod. \"And what I say is, when chaps are visible, why, they can see one another.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Ah, there it is, there it is, Chief,\" cried all the others. \"There's the point. No one's got a clearer head than you. You couldn't have made it plainer.\"\n\n\"She caught the old man napping, that little girl did,\" said the Chief Monopod. \"We've beaten him this time.\"\n\n\"Just what we were going to say ourselves,\" chimed the chorus. \"You're going stronger than ever today, Chief. Keep it up, keep it up.\"\n\n\"But do they dare to talk about you like that?\" said Lucy. \"They seemed to be so afraid of you yesterday. Don't they know you might be listening?\"\n\n\"That's one of the funny things about the Duffers,\" said the Magician. \"One minute they talk as if Iran everything and overheard everything and was extremely dangerous. The next moment they think they can take me in by tricks that a baby would see through-bless them!\"\n\n\"Will they have to be turned back into their proper shapes?\" asked Lucy. \"Oh, I do hope it wouldn't be unkind to leave them as they are. Do they really mind very much? They seem pretty happy. I say-look at that jump. What were they like before?\"\n\n\"Common little dwarfs,\" said he. \"Nothing like so nice as the sort you have in Narnia.\"\n\n\"It would be a pity to change them back,\" said Lucy. \"They're so funny: and they're rather nice. Do you think it would make any difference if I told them that?\"\n\n\"I'm sure it would-if you could get it into their heads.\"\n\n\"Will you come with me and try?\"\n\n\"No, no. You'll get on far better without me.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Thanks awfully for the lunch,\" said Lucy and turned quickly away. She ran down the stairs which she had come up so nervously that morning and cannoned into Edmund at the bottom. All the others were therewith him waiting, and Lucy's conscience smote her when she saw their anxious faces and realized how long she had forgotten them.\n\n\"It's all right,\" she shouted. \"Everything's all right. The Magician's a brick-and I've seen Him-Aslan.\"\n\nAfter that she went from them like the wind and out into the garden. Here the earth was shaking with the jumps and the air ringing with the shouts of the Monopods. Both were redoubled when they caught sight of her.\n\n\"Here she comes, here she comes,\" they cried. \"Three cheers for the little girl. Ah! She put it across the old gentleman properly, she did.\"\n\n\"And we're extremely regrettable,\" said the Chief Monopod, \"that we can't give you the pleasure of seeing us as we were before we were uglified, for you wouldn't believe the difference, and that's the truth, for there's no denying we're mortal ugly now, so we won't deceive you.\"\n\n\"Eh, that we are, Chief, that we are,\" echoed the others, bouncing like so many toy balloons. \"You've said it, you've said it.\"\n\n\"But I don't think you are at all,\" said Lucy, shouting to make herself heard. \"I think you look very nice.\"\n\n\"Hear her, hear her,\" said the Monopods. \"True for you, Missie. Very nice we look. You couldn't find a handsomer lot.\" They said this without any surprise and did not seem to notice that they had changed their minds." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"She's a-saying,\" remarked the Chief Monopod, \"as how we looked very nice before we were uglified.\"\n\n\"True for you, Chief, true for you,\" chanted the others. \"That's what she says. We heard her ourselves.\"\n\n\"I did not,\" bawled Lucy. \"I said you're very nice now.\"\n\n\"So she did, so she did,\" said the Chief Monopod, \"said we were very nice then.\"\n\n\"Hear \"em both, hear'em both,\" said the Monopods. \"There's a pair for you. Always right. They couldn't have put it better.\"\n\n\"But we're saying just the opposite,\" said Lucy, stamping her foot with impatience.\n\n\"So you are, to be sure, so you are,\" said the Monopods. \"Nothing like an opposite. Keep it up, both of you.\"\n\n\"You're enough to drive anyone mad,\" said Lucy, and gave it up. But the Monopods seemed perfectly contented, and she decided that on the whole the conversation had been a success.\n\nAnd before everyone went to bed that evening something else happened which made them even more satisfied with their one-legged condition. Caspian and all the Narnians went back as soon as possible to the shore to give their news to Rhince and the others onboard the Dawn Treader, who were by now very anxious. And, of course, the Monopods went with them, bouncing like footballs and agreeing with one another in loud voices till Eustace said, \"I wish the Magician would make them inaudible instead of invisible.\" (He was soon sorry he had spoken because then he had to explain that an inaudible thing is something you can't hear, and though he took a lot of trouble he never felt sure that the Monopods had really understood, and what especially annoyed him was that they said in the end, \"Eh, he can't put things the way our Chief does. But you'll learn, young man. Hark to him. He'll show you how to say things. There's a speaker for you!\") When they reached the bay, Reepicheep had a brilliant idea. He had his little coracle lowered and paddled himself about in it till the Monopods were thoroughly interested. He then stood up in it and said, \"Worthy and intelligent Monopods, you do not need boats. Each of you has afoot that will do instead. Just jump as lightly as you canon the water and see what happens.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Chief Monopod hung back and warned the others that they'd find the water powerful wet, but one or two of the younger ones tried it almost at once; and then a few others followed their example, and at last the whole lot did the same. It worked perfectly. The huge single foot of a Monopod acted as a natural raft or boat, and when Reepicheep had taught them how to cut rude paddles for themselves, they all paddled about the bay and round the Dawn Treader, looking for all the world like a fleet of little canoes with a fat dwarf standing up in the extreme stern of each. And they had races, and bottles of wine were lowered down to them from the ship as prizes, and the sailors stood leaning over the ship's sides and laughed till their own sides ached.\n\nThe Duffers were also very pleased with their new name of Monopods, which seemed to them a magnificent name though they never got it right. \"That's what we are,\" they bellowed. \"Moneypuds, Pomonods, Poddymons. Just what it was on the tips of our tongue to call ourselves.\" But they soon got it mixed up with their old name of Duffers and finally settled down to calling themselves the Dufflepuds; and that is what they will probably be called for centuries.\n\nThat evening all the Narnians dined upstairs with the Magician, and Lucy noticed how different the whole top floor looked now that she was no longer afraid of it. The mysterious signs on the doors were still mysterious but now looked as if they had kind and cheerful meanings, and even the bearded mirror now seemed funny rather than frightening. At dinner everyone had by magic what everyone liked best to eat and drink, and after dinner the Magician did a very useful and beautiful piece of magic. He laid two blank sheets of parchment on the table and asked Drinian to give him an exact account of their voyage up to date: and as Drinian spoke, everything he described came out on the parchment in fine clear lines till at last each sheet was a splendid map of the Eastern Ocean, showing Galma, Terebinthia, the Seven Isles, the Lone Islands, Dragon Island, Burnt Island, Deathwater, and the land of the Duffers itself, all exactly the rightsizes and in the right positions. They were the first maps ever made of those seas and better than any that have been made since without magic. For on these, though the towns and mountains looked at first just as they would on an ordinary map, when the Magician lent them a magnifying glass you saw that they were perfect little pictures of the real things, so that you could seethe very castle and slave market and streets in Narrowhaven, all very clear though very distant, like things seen through the wrong end of a telescope. The only drawback was that the coastline of most of the islands was incomplete, for the map showed only what Drinian had seen with his own eyes. When they were finished the Magician kept one himself and presented the other to Caspian: it still hangs in his Chamber of Instruments at Cair Paravel. But the Magician could tell them nothing about seas or lands further east. He did, however, tell them that about seven years before a Narnian ship had put in at his waters and that she had onboard the Lords Revilian, Argoz, Mavramorn and Rhoop: so they judged that the golden man they had seen lying in Deathwater must be the Lord Restimar." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Next day, the Magician magically mended the stern of the Dawn Treader where it had been damaged by the Sea Serpent and loaded her with useful gifts. There was a most friendly parting, and when she sailed, two hours afternoon, all the Dufflepuds paddled outwith her to the harbor mouth, and cheered until she was out of sound of their cheering." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "AFTER THIS ADVENTURE THEY SAILED on south and a little east for twelve days with a gentle wind, the skies being mostly clear and the air warm, and saw no bird or fish, except that once there were whales spouting along way to starboard. Lucy and Reepicheep played a good deal of chess at this time. Then on the thirteenth day, Edmund, from the fighting-top, sighted what looked like a great dark mountain rising out of the sea on their port bow.\n\nThey altered course and made for this land, mostly by oar, for the wind would not serve them to sail northeast. When evening fell they were still along way from it and rowed all night. Next morning the weather was fair but a flat calm. The dark mass lay ahead, much nearer and larger, but still very dim, so that some thought it was still along way off and others thought they were running into a mist.\n\nAbout nine that morning, very suddenly, it was so close that they could see that it was not land at all, nor even, in an ordinary sense, a mist. It was a Darkness. It is rather hard to describe, but you will see what it was like if you imagine yourself looking into the mouth of a railway tunnel-a tunnel either so long or so twisty that you cannot seethe light at the far end. And you know what it would be like. Fora few feet you would seethe rails and sleepers and gravel in broad daylight; then there would come a place where they were in twilight; and then, pretty suddenly, but of course without a sharp dividing line, they would vanish altogether into smooth, solid blackness. It was just so here. Fora few feet in front of their bows they could seethe swell of the bright greenish-blue water. Beyond that, they could seethe water looking pale and gray as it would look late in the evening. But beyond that again, utter blackness as if they had come to the edge of moonless and starless night." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Caspian shouted to the boatswain to keep her back, and all except the rowers rushed forward and gazed from the bows. But there was nothing to be seen by gazing. Behind them was the sea and the sun, before them the Darkness.\n\n\"Do we go into this?\" asked Caspian at length.\n\n\"Not by my advice,\" said Drinian.\n\n\"The Captain's right,\" said several sailors.\n\n\"I almost think he is,\" said Edmund.\n\nLucy and Eustace didn't speak but they felt very glad inside at the turn things seemed to betaking. But all at once the clear voice of Reepicheep broke in upon the silence.\n\n\"And why not?\" he said. \"Will someone explain tome why not.\"\n\nNo one was anxious to explain, so Reepicheep continued:\n\n\"If I were addressing peasants or slaves,\" he said, \"I might suppose that this suggestion proceeded from cowardice. But I hope it will never be told in Narnia that a company of noble and royal persons in the flower of their age turned tail because they were afraid of the dark.\"\n\n\"But what manner of use would it be plowing through that blackness?\" asked Drinian.\n\n\"Use?\" replied Reepicheep. \"Use, Captain? If by use you mean filling our bellies or our purses, I confess it will be no use at all. So far as I know we did not set sail to look for things useful but to seek honor and adventure. And here is as great an adventure as ever I heard of, and here; if we turn back, no little impeachment of all our honors.\"\n\nSeveral of the sailors said things under their breath that sounded like'Honor be blowed,\" but Caspian said:" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Oh, bother you, Reepicheep." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I almost wish we'd left you at home. All right! If you put it that way, I suppose we shall have to goon. Unless Lucy would rather not?\"\n\nLucy felt that she would very much rather not, but what she said out loud was, \"I'm game.\"\n\n\"Your Majesty will at least order lights?\" said Drinian.\n\n\"By all means,\" said Caspian. \"See to it, Captain.\"\n\nSo the three lanterns, at the stern, and the prow and the masthead, were all lit, and Drinian ordered two torches amidships. Pale and feeble they looked in the sunshine. Then all the men except some who were left below at the oars were ordered on deck and fully armed and posted in their battle stations with swords drawn. Lucy and two archers were posted on the fighting-top with bows bent and arrows on the string. Rynelf was in the bows with his line ready to take soundings. Reepicheep, Edmund, Eustace and Caspian, glittering in mail, were with him. Drinian took the tiller.\n\n\"And now, in Aslan's name, forward!\" cried Caspian. \"A slow, steady stroke. And let every man be silent and keep his ears open for orders.\"\n\nWith a creak and a groan the Dawn Treader started to creep forward as the men began to row. Lucy, up in the fighting-top, had a wonderful view of the exact moment at which they entered the darkness. The bows had already disappeared before the sunlight had left the stern. She saw it go. Atone minute the gilded stern, the blue sea, and the sky, were all in broad daylight: next minute the sea and sky had vanished, the stern lantern-which had been hardly noticeable before-was the only thing to show where the ship ended. In front of the lantern she could seethe black shape of Drinian crouching at the tiller. Down below her the two torches made visible two small patches of deck and gleamed on swords and helmets, and forward there was another island of light on the forecastle. Apart from that, the fighting-top, lit by the masthead light which was only just above her, seemed to be a little lighted world of its own floating in lonely darkness. And the lights themselves, as always happens with lights when you have to have them at the wrong time of day, looked lurid and unnatural. She also noticed that she was very cold." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "How long this voyage into the darkness lasted, nobody knew. Except for the creak of the rowlocks and the splash of the oars there was nothing to show that they were moving at all. Edmund, peering from the bows, could see nothing except the reflection of the lantern in the water before him. It looked a greasy sort of reflection, and the ripple made by their advancing prow appeared to be heavy, small, and lifeless. As time went on everyone except the rowers began to shiver with cold.\n\nSuddenly, from somewhere-no one's sense of direction was very clear by now-there came a cry, either of some inhuman voice or else a voice of one in such extremity of terror that he had almost lost his humanity.\n\nCaspian was still trying to speak-his mouth was too dry-when the shrill voice of Reepicheep, which sounded louder than usual in that silence, was heard.\n\n\"Who calls?\" it piped. \"If you area foe we do not fear you, and if you area friend your enemies shall be taught the fear of us.\"\n\n\"Mercy!\" cried the voice. \"Mercy! Even if you are only one more dream, have mercy. Take me onboard. Take me, even if you strike me dead. But in the name of all mercies do not fade away and leave me in this horrible land.\"\n\n\"Where are you?\" shouted Caspian. \"Come aboard and welcome.\"\n\nThere came another cry, whether of joy or terror, and then they knew that someone was swimming toward them.\n\n\"Standby to heave him up, men,\" said Caspian.\n\n\"Aye, aye, your Majesty,\" said the sailors. Several crowded to the port bulwark with ropes and one, leaning far out over the side, held the torch. A wild, white face appeared in the blackness of the water, and then, after some scrambling and pulling, a dozen friendly hands had heaved the stranger onboard." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Edmund thought he had never seen a wilder-looking man. Though he did not otherwise look very old, his hair was an untidy mop of white, his face was thin and drawn, and, for clothing, only a few wet rags hung about him. But what one mainly noticed were his eyes, which were so widely opened that he seemed to have no eyelids at all, and stared as if in an agony of pure fear. The moment his feet reached the deck he said:\n\n\"Fly! Fly! About with your ship and fly! Row, row, row for your lives away from this accursed shore.\"\n\n\"Compose yourself,\" said Reepicheep, \"and tell us what the danger is. We are not used to flying.\"\n\nThe stranger started horribly at the voice of the Mouse, which he had not noticed before.\n\n\"Nevertheless you will fly from here,\" he gasped. \"This is the Island where Dreams come true.\"\n\n\"That's the island I've been looking for this longtime,\" said one of the sailors. \"I reckon I'd find I was married to Nancy if we landed here.\"\n\n\"And I'd find Tom alive again,\" said another.\n\n\"Fools!\" said the man, stamping his foot with rage. \"That is the sort of talk that brought me here, and I'd better have been drowned or never born. Do you hear what I say? This is where dreams-dreams, do you understand-come to life, come real. Not daydreams: dreams.\"\n\nThere was about half a minute's silence and then, with a great clatter of armor, the whole crew were tumbling down the main hatch as quick as they could and flinging themselves on the oars to row as they had never rowed before; and Drinian was swinging round the tiller, and the boatswain was giving out the quickest stroke that had ever been heard at sea. For it had taken everyone just that half-minute to remember certain dreams they had had-dreams that make you afraid of going to sleep again-and to realize what it would mean to land on a country where dreams come true." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Only Reepicheep remained unmoved.\n\n\"Your Majesty, your Majesty,\" he said, \"are you going to tolerate this mutiny, this poltroonery? This is a panic, this is a rout.\"\n\n\"Row, row,\" bellowed Caspian. \"Pull for all our lives. Is her head right, Drinian? You can say what you like, Reepicheep. There are somethings no man can face.\"\n\n\"It is, then, my good fortune not to be a man,\" replied Reepicheep with a very stiff bow.\n\nLucy from up aloft had heard it all. In an instant that one of her own dreams which she had tried hardest to forget came back to her as vividly as if she had only just woken from it. So that was what was behind them, on the island, in the darkness! Fora second she wanted to go down to the deck and be with Edmund and Caspian. But what was the use? If dreams began coming true, Edmund and Caspian themselves might turn into something horrible just as she reached them. She gripped the rail of the fighting-top and tried to steady herself. They were rowing back to the light as hard as they could: it would be all right in a few seconds. But oh, if only it could be all right now!\n\nThough the rowing made a good deal of noise it did not quite conceal the total silence which surrounded the ship. Everyone knew it would be better not to listen, not to strain his ears for any sound from the darkness. But no one could help listening. And soon everyone was hearing things. Each one heard something different.\n\n\"Do you hear a noise like... like a huge pair of scissors opening and shutting... over there?\" Eustace asked Rynelf." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Hush!\" said Rynelf. \"I can hear them crawling up the sides of the ship.\"\n\n\"It's just going to settle on the mast,\" said Caspian.\n\n\"Ugh!\" said a sailor. \"There are the gongs beginning. I knew they would.\"\n\nCaspian, trying not to look at anything (especially not to keep looking behind him), went aft to Drinian.\n\n\"Drinian,\" he said in a very low voice. \"How long did we take rowing in?-I mean rowing to where we picked up the stranger.\"\n\n\"Five minutes, perhaps,\" whispered Drinian. \"Why?\"\n\n\"Because we've been more than that already trying to get out.\"\n\nDrinian's hand shook on the tiller and a line of cold sweat ran down his face. The same idea was occurring to everyone onboard. \"We shall never get out, never get out,\" moaned the rowers. \"He's steering us wrong. We're going round and round in circles. We shall never get out.\" The stranger, who had been lying in a huddled heap on the deck, sat up and burst out into a horrible screaming laugh.\n\n\"Never get out!\" he yelled. \"That's it. Of course. We shall never get out. What a fool I was to have thought they would let me go as easily as that. No, no, we shall never get out.\"\n\nLucy leant her head on the edge of the fighting-top and whispered, \"Aslan, Aslan, if ever you loved us at all, send us help now.\" The darkness did not grow any less, but she began to feel a little-a very, very little-better. \"After all, nothing has really happened to us yet,\" she thought." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Look!\" cried Rynelf's voice hoarsely from the bows. There was a tiny speck of light ahead, and while they watched abroad beam of light fell from it upon the ship. It did not alter the surrounding darkness, but the whole ship was lit up as if by searchlight. Caspian blinked, stared round, saw the faces of his companions all with wild, fixed expressions. Everyone was staring in the same direction: behind everyone lay his black, sharply edged shadow.\n\nLucy looked along the beam and presently saw something in it. At first it looked like across, then it looked like an aeroplane, then it looked like a kite, and at last with a whirring of wings it was right overhead and was an albatross. It circled three times round the mast and then perched for an instant on the crest of the gilded dragon at the prow. It called out in a strong sweet voice what seemed to be words though no one understood them. After that it spread its wings, rose, and began to fly slowly ahead, bearing a little to starboard. Drinian steered after it not doubting that it offered good guidance. But no one except Lucy knew that as it circled the mast it had whispered to her, \"Courage, dear heart,\" and the voice, she felt sure, was Aslan's, and with the voice a delicious smell breathed in her face.\n\nIna few moments the darkness turned into a grayness ahead, and then, almost before they dared to begin hoping, they had shot out into the sunlight and were in the warm, blue world again. And all at once everybody realized that there was nothing to be afraid of and never had been. They blinked their eyes and looked about them. The brightness of the ship herself astonished them: they had half expected to find that the darkness would cling to the white and the green and the gold in the form of some grime or scum. And then first one, and then another, began laughing." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I reckon we've made pretty good fools of ourselves,\" said Rynelf.\n\nLucy lost no time incoming down to the deck, where she found the others all gathered round the newcomer. Fora longtime he was too happy to speak, and could only gaze at the sea and the sun and feel the bulwarks and the ropes, as if to make sure he was really awake, while tears rolled down his cheeks.\n\n\"Thank you,\" he said at last. \"You have saved me from... but I won't talk of that. And now let me know who you are. I am a Telmarine of Narnia, and when I was worth anything men called me the Lord Rhoop.\"\n\n\"And I,\" said Caspian, \"am Caspian, King of Narnia, and I sail to find you and your companions who were my father's friends.\"\n\nLord Rhoop fell on his knees and kissed the King's hand. \"Sire,\" he said, \"you are the man in all the world I most wished to see. Grant me a boon.\"\n\n\"What is it?\" asked Caspian.\n\n\"Never to bring me back there,\" he said. He pointed astern. They all looked. But they saw only bright blue sea and bright blue sky. The Dark Island and the darkness had vanished forever.\n\n\"Why!\" cried Lord Rhoop. \"You have destroyed it!\"\n\n\"I don't think it was us,\" said Lucy.\n\n\"Sire,\" said Drinian, \"this wind is fair for the southeast. Shall I have our poor fellows up and set sail? And after that, every man who can be spared, to his hammock.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Caspian, \"and let there be grog all round. Heigh-ho, I feel I could sleep the clock round myself.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "So all afternoon with great joy they sailed southeast with a fair wind. But nobody noticed when the albatross had disappeared." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "THE WIND NEVER FAILED BUT IT GREW gentler everyday till at length the waves were little more than ripples, and the ship glided on hour after hour almost as if they were sailing on a lake. And every night they saw that there rose in the east new constellations which no one had ever seen in Narnia and perhaps, as Lucy thought with a mixture of joy and fear, no living eye had seen at all. Those new stars were big and bright and the nights were warm. Most of them slept on deck and talked far into the night or hungover the ship's side watching the luminous dance of the foam thrown up by their bows.\n\nOn an evening of startling beauty, when the sunset behind them was so crimson and purple and widely spread that the very sky itself seemed to have grown larger, they came insight of land on their starboard bow. It came slowly nearer and the light behind them made it look as if the capes and headlands of this new country were all on fire. But presently they were sailing along its coast and its western cape now rose up astern of them, black against the red sky and sharp as if it was cutout of cardboard, and then they could see better what this country was like. It had no mountains but many gentle hills with slopes like pillows. An attractive smell came from it-what Lucy called'a dim, purple kind of smell,\" which Edmund said (and Rhince thought) was rot, but Caspian said, \"I know what you mean.\"\n\nThey sailed on a good way, past point after point, hoping to find a nice deep harbor, but had to content themselves in the end with a wide and shallow bay. Though it had seemed calm out at sea there was of course surf breaking on the sand and they could not bring the Dawn Treader as far in as they would have liked. They dropped anchor a good way from the beach and had a wet and tumbling landing in the boat. The Lord Rhoop remained onboard the Dawn Treader. He wished to see no more islands. All the time that they remained in this country the sound of the long breakers was in their ears." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Two men were left to guard the boat and Caspian led the others inland, but not far because it was too late for exploring and the light would soon go." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But there was no need to go far to find an adventure. The level valley which lay at the head of the bay showed no road or track or other sign of habitation. Underfoot was fine springy turf dotted here and therewith a low bushy growth which Edmund and Lucy took for heather. Eustace, who was really rather good at botany, said it wasn't, and he was probably right; but it was something of very much the same kind.\n\nWhen they had gone less than a bowshot from the shore, Drinian said, \"Look! What's that?\" and everyone stopped.\n\n\"Are they great trees?\" said Caspian.\n\n\"Towers, I think,\" said Eustace.\n\n\"It might be giants,\" said Edmund in a lower voice.\n\n\"The way to find out is to go right in among them,\" said Reepicheep, drawing his sword and pattering off ahead of everyone else.\n\n\"I think it's a ruin,\" said Lucy when they had got a good deal nearer, and her guess was the best so far. What they now saw was a wide oblong space flagged with smooth stones and surrounded by gray pillars but unroofed. And from end to end of it ran along table laid with a rich crimson cloth that came down nearly to the pavement. At either side of it were many chairs of stone richly carved and with silken cushions upon the seats. But on the table itself there was set out such a banquet as had never been seen, not even when Peter the High King kept his court at Cair Paravel. There were turkeys and geese and peacocks, there were boars\" heads and sides of venison, there were pies shaped like ships under full sailor like dragons and elephants, there were ice puddings and bright lobsters and gleaming salmon, there were nuts and grapes, pineapples and peaches, pomegranates and melons and tomatoes. There were flagons of gold and silver and curiously-wrought glass; and the smell of the fruit and the wine blew toward them like a promise of all happiness." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I say!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "said Lucy.\n\nThey came nearer and nearer, all very quietly.\n\n\"But where are the guests?\" asked Eustace.\n\n\"We can provide that, Sir,\" said Rhince.\n\n\"Look!\" said Edmund sharply. They were actually within the pillars now and standing on the pavement. Everyone looked where Edmund had pointed. The chairs were not all empty. At the head of the table and in the two places beside it there was something-or possibly three somethings.\n\n\"What are those?\" asked Lucy in a whisper. \"It looks like three beavers sitting on the table.\"\n\n\"Ora huge bird's nest,\" said Edmund.\n\n\"It looks more like a haystack tome,\" said Caspian.\n\nReepicheep ran forward, jumped on a chair and thence onto the table, and ran along it, threading his way as nimbly as a dancer between jeweled cups and pyramids of fruit and ivory salt-cellars. He ran right up to the mysterious gray mass at the end: peered, touched, and then called out:\n\n\"These will not fight, I think.\"\n\nEveryone now came close and saw that what satin those three chairs was three men, though hard to recognize as men till you looked closely. Their hair, which was gray, had grown over their eyes till it almost concealed their faces, and their beards had grown over the table, climbing round and entwining plates and goblets as brambles entwine a fence, until, all mixed in one great mat of hair, they flowed over the edge and down to the floor. And from their heads the hair hungover the backs of their chairs so that they were wholly hidden. In fact the three men were nearly all hair.\n\n\"Dead?\" said Caspian.\n\n\"I think not, Sire,\" said Reepicheep, lifting one of their hands out of its tangle of hair in his two paws. \"This one is warm and his pulse beats.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"This one, too, and this,\" said Drinian.\n\n\"Why, they're only asleep,\" said Eustace.\n\n\"It's been along sleep, though,\" said Edmund, \"to let their hair grow like this.\"\n\n\"It must bean enchanted sleep,\" said Lucy. \"I felt the moment we landed on this island that it was full of magic. Oh! do you think we have perhaps come hereto break it?\"\n\n\"We can try,\" said Caspian, and began shaking the nearest of the three sleepers. Fora moment everyone thought he was going to be successful, for the man breathed hard and muttered, \"I'll go eastward no more. Out oars for Narnia.\" But he sank back almost at once into a yet deeper sleep than before: that is, his heavy head sagged a few inches lower toward the table and all efforts to rouse him again were useless. With the second it was much the same. \"Weren't born to live like animals. Get to the east while you've a chance-lands behind the sun,\" and sank down. And the third only said, \"Mustard, please,\" and slept hard.\n\n\"Out oars for Narnia, eh?\" said Drinian.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Caspian, \"you are right, Drinian. I think our quest is at an end. Let's look at their rings. Yes, these are their devices. This is the Lord Revilian. This is the Lord Argoz: and this, the Lord Mavramorn.\"\n\n\"But we can't wake them,\" said Lucy. \"What are we to do?\"\n\n\"Begging your Majesties'pardons all,\" said Rhince, \"but why not fall to while you're discussing it? We don't see a dinner like this everyday.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Not for your life!\" said Caspian.\n\n\"That's right, that's right,\" said several of the sailors. \"Too much magic about here. The sooner we're back onboard the better.\"\n\n\"Depend upon it,\" said Reepicheep, \"it was from eating this food that these three lords came by a seven years' sleep.\"\n\n\"I wouldn't touch it to save my life,\" said Drinian.\n\n\"The light's going uncommon quick,\" said Rynelf.\n\n\"Back to ship, back to ship,\" muttered the men.\n\n\"I really think,\" said Edmund, \"they're right. We can decide what to do with the three sleepers tomorrow. We daren't eat the food and there's no point in staying here for the night. The whole place smells of magic-and danger.\"\n\n\"I am entirely of King Edmund's opinion,\" said Reepicheep, \"as far as concerns the ship's company in general. But I myself will sit at this table till sunrise.\"\n\n\"Why on earth?\" said Eustace.\n\n\"Because,\" said the Mouse, \"this is a very great adventure, and no danger seems tome so great as that of knowing when I get back to Narnia that I left a mystery behind me through fear.\"\n\n\"I'll stay with you, Reep,\" said Edmund.\n\n\"And I too,\" said Caspian.\n\n\"And me,\" said Lucy. And then Eustace volunteered also. This was very brave of him because never having read of such things or even heard of them till he joined the Dawn Treader made it worse for him than for the others.\n\n\"I beseech your Majesty-\" began Drinian.\n\n\"No, my Lord,\" said Caspian. \"Your place is with the ship, and you have had a day's work while we five have idled.\" There was a lot of argument about this but in the end Caspian had his way. As the crew marched off to the shore in the gathering dusk none of the five watchers, except perhaps Reepicheep, could avoid a cold feeling in the stomach." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They took sometime choosing their seats at the perilous table. Probably everyone had the same reason but no one said it out loud. For it was really a rather nasty choice. One could hardly bear to sit all night next to those three terrible hairy objects which, if not dead, were certainly not alive in the ordinary sense. On the other hand, to sit at the far end, so that you would see them less and less as the night grew darker, and wouldn't know if they were moving, and perhaps wouldn't see them at all by about two o'clock-no, it was not to bethought of. So they sauntered round and round the table saying, \"What about here?\" and'Or perhaps a bit further on,\" or, \"Why not on this side?\" till at last they settled down somewhere about the middle but nearer to the sleepers than to the other end. It was about ten by now and almost dark. Those strange new constellations burned in the east. Lucy would have liked it better if they had been the Leopard and the Ship and other old friends of the Narnian sky.\n\nThey wrapped themselves in their sea cloaks and sat still and waited. At first there was some attempt at talk but it didn't come to much. And they sat and sat. And all the time they heard the waves breaking on the beach.\n\nAfter hours that seemed like ages there came a moment when they all knew they had been dozing a moment before but were all suddenly wide awake. The stars were all in quite different positions from those they had last noticed. The sky was very black except for the faintest possible grayness in the east. They were cold, though thirsty, and stiff. And none of them spoke because now at last something was happening.\n\nBefore them, beyond the pillars, there was the slope of a low hill. And now a door opened in the hillside, and light appeared in the doorway, and a figure came out, and the door shut behind it. The figure carried alight, and this light was really all that they could see distinctly. It came slowly nearer and nearer till at last it stood right at the table opposite to them. Now they could see that it was a tall girl, dressed in a single long garment of clear blue which left her arms bare. She was bareheaded and her yellow hair hung down her back. And when they looked at her they thought they had never before known what beauty meant." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The light which she had been carrying was a tall candle in a silver candlestick which she now set upon the table. If there had been any wind off the sea earlier in the night it must have died down by now, for the flame of the candle burned as straight and still as if it were in a room with the windows shut and the curtains drawn. Gold and silver on the table shone in its light.\n\nLucy now noticed something lying lengthwise on the table which had escaped her attention before. It was a knife of stone, sharp as steel, a cruel-looking, ancient-looking thing.\n\nNo one had yet spoken a word. Then-Reepicheep first, and Caspian next-they all rose to their feet, because they felt that she was a great lady.\n\n\"Travelers who have come from far to Aslan's table,\" said the girl. \"Why do you not eat and drink?\"\n\n\"Madam,\" said Caspian, \"we feared the food because we thought it had cast our friends into an enchanted sleep.\"\n\n\"They have never tasted it,\" she said.\n\n\"Please,\" said Lucy, \"what happened to them?\"\n\n\"Seven years ago,\" said the girl, \"they came herein a ship whose sails were rags and her timbers ready to fall apart. There were a few others with them, sailors, and when they came to this table one said, \"Here is the good place. Let us set sail and reef sail and row no longer but sit down and end our days in peace!\" And the second said, \"No, let us re-embark and sail for Narnia and the west; it maybe that Miraz is dead.\" But the third, who was a very masterful man, leaped up and said, \"No, by heaven. We are men and Telmarines, not brutes. What should we do but seek adventure after adventure? We have not long to live in any event. Let us spend what is left in seeking the unpeopled world behind the sunrise.\" And as they quarreled he caught up the Knife of Stone which lies thereon the table and would have fought with his comrades. But it is a thing not right for him to touch. And as his fingers closed upon the hilt, deep sleep fell upon all the three. And till the enchantment is undone they will never wake.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What is this Knife of Stone?\" asked Eustace.\n\n\"Do none of you know it?\" said the girl.\n\n\"I-I think,\" said Lucy, \"I've seen something like it before. It was a knife like it that the White Witch used when she killed Aslan at the Stone Table long ago.\"\n\n\"It was the same,\" said the girl, \"and it was brought hereto be kept in honor while the world lasts.\"\n\nEdmund, who had been looking more and more uncomfortable for the last few minutes, now spoke.\n\n\"Look here,\" he said, \"I hope I'm not a coward-about eating this food, I mean-and I'm sure I don't mean to be rude. But we have had a lot of queer adventures on this voyage of ours and things aren't always what they seem. When I look in your face I can't help believing all you say: but then that's just what might happen with a witch too. How are we to know you're a friend?\"\n\n\"You can't know,\" said the girl. \"You can only believe-or not.\"\n\nAfter a moment's pause Reepicheep's small voice was heard.\n\n\"Sire,\" he said to Caspian, \"of your courtesy fill my cup with wine from that flagon: it is too big for me to lift. I will drink to the lady.\"\n\nCaspian obeyed and the Mouse, standing on the table, held up a golden cup between its tiny paws and said, \"Lady, I pledge you.\" Then it fell to on cold peacock, and in a short while everyone else followed his example. All were very hungry and the meal, if not quite what you wanted fora very early breakfast, was excellent as a very late supper." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Why is it called Aslan's table?\" asked Lucy presently.\n\n\"It is set hereby his bidding,\" said the girl, \"for those who come so far. Some call this island the World's End, for though you can sail further, this is the beginning of the end.\"\n\n\"But how does the food keep?\" asked the practical Eustace.\n\n\"It is eaten, and renewed everyday,\" said the girl. \"This you will see.\"\n\n\"And what are we to do about the Sleepers?\" asked Caspian. \"In the world from which my friends come\" (here he nodded at Eustace and the Pevensies) \"they have a story of a prince or a king coming to a castle where all the people lay in an enchanted sleep. In that story he could not dissolve the enchantment until he had kissed the Princess.\"\n\n\"But here,\" said the girl, \"it is different. Here he cannot kiss the Princess till he has dissolved the enchantment.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said Caspian, \"in the name of Aslan, show me how to set about that work at once.\"\n\n\"My father will teach you that,\" said the girl.\n\n\"Your father!\" said everyone. \"Who is he? And where?\"\n\n\"Look,\" said the girl, turning round and pointing at the door in the hillside. They could see it more easily now, for while they had been talking the stars had grown fainter and great gaps of white light were appearing in the grayness of the eastern sky." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "SLOWLY THE DOOR OPENED AGAIN AND out there came a figure as tall and straight as the girl's but not so slender. It carried no light but light seemed to come from it. As it came nearer, Lucy saw that it was like an old man. His silver beard came down to his bare feet in front and his silver hair hung down to his heels behind and his robe appeared to be made from the fleece of silver sheep. He looked so mild and grave that once more all the travelers rose to their feet and stood in silence.\n\nBut the old man came on without speaking to the travelers and stood on the other side of the table opposite to his daughter. Then both of them held up their arms before them and turned to face the east. In that position they began to sing. I wish I could write down the song, but no one who was present could remember it. Lucy said afterward that it was high, almost shrill, but very beautiful, \"A cold kind of song, an early morning kind of song.\" And as they sang, the gray clouds lifted from the eastern sky and the white patches grew bigger and bigger till it was all white, and the sea began to shine like silver. And long afterward (but those two sang all the time) the east began to turn red and at last, unclouded, the sun came up out of the sea and its long level ray shot down the length of the table on the gold and silver and on the Stone Knife.\n\nOnce or twice before, the Narnians had wondered whether the sun at its rising did not look bigger in these seas than it had looked at home. This time they were certain. There was no mistaking it. And the brightness of its rayon the dew and on the table was far beyond any morning brightness they had ever seen. And as Edmund said afterward, \"Though lots of things happened on that trip which sound more exciting, that moment was really the most exciting.\" For now they knew that they had truly come to the beginning of the End of the World." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Then something seemed to be flying at them out of the very center of the rising sun: but of course one couldn't look steadily in that direction to make sure." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But presently the air became full of voices-voices which took up the same song that the Lady and her Father were singing, but in far wilder tones and in a language which no one knew. And soon after that the owners of these voices could be seen. They were birds, large and white, and they came by hundreds and thousands and alighted on everything; on the grass, and the pavement, on the table, on your shoulders, your hands, and your head, till it looked as if heavy snow had fallen. For, like snow, they not only made everything white but blurred and blunted all shapes. But Lucy, looking out from between the wings of the birds that covered her, saw one bird fly to the Old Man with something in its beak that looked like a little fruit, unless it was a little live coal, which it might have been, for it was too bright to look at. And the bird laid it in the Old Man's mouth.\n\nThen the birds stopped their singing and appeared to be very busy about the table. When they rose from it again everything on the table that could be eaten or drunk had disappeared. These birds rose from their meal in their thousands and hundreds and carried away all the things that could not be eaten or drunk, such as bones, rinds, and shells, and took their flight back to the rising sun. But now, because they were not singing, the whir of their wings seemed to set the whole air atremble. And there was the table pecked clean and empty, and the three old Lords of Narnia still fast asleep.\n\nNow at last the Old Man turned to the travelers and bade them welcome.\n\n\"Sir,\" said Caspian, \"will you tell us how to undo the enchantment which holds these three Narnian Lords asleep.\"\n\n\"I will gladly tell you that, my son,\" said the Old Man. \"To break this enchantment you must sail to the World's End, or as near as you can come to it, and you must comeback having left at least one of your company behind.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And what must happen to that one?\" asked Reepicheep.\n\n\"He must goon into the utter east and never return into the world.\"\n\n\"That is my heart's desire,\" said Reepicheep.\n\n\"And are we near the World's End now, Sir?\" asked Caspian. \"Have you any knowledge of the seas and lands further east than this?\"\n\n\"I saw them long ago,\" said the Old Man, \"but it was from a great height. I cannot tell you such things as sailors need to know.\"\n\n\"Do you mean you were flying in the air?\" Eustace blurted out.\n\n\"I was along way above the air, my son,\" replied the Old Man. \"I am Ramandu. But I see that you stare atone another and have not heard this name. And no wonder, for the days when I was a star had ceased long before any of you knew this world, and all the constellations have changed.\"\n\n\"Golly,\" said Edmund under his breath. \"He's a retired star.\"\n\n\"Aren't you a star any longer?\" asked Lucy.\n\n\"I am a star at rest, my daughter,\" answered Ramandu. \"When I set for the last time, decrepit and old beyond all that you can reckon, I was carried to this island. I am not so old now as I was then. Every morning a bird brings me afire-berry from the valleys in the Sun, and each fire-berry takes away a little of my age. And when I have become as young as the child that was born yesterday, then I shall take my rising again (for we are at earth's eastern rim) and once more tread the great dance.\"\n\n\"In our world,\" said Eustace, \"a star is a huge ball of flaming gas.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Even in your world, my son, that is not what a star is but only what it is made of. And in this world you have already meta star: for I think you have been with Coriakin.\"\n\n\"Is he a retired star, too?\" said Lucy.\n\n\"Well, not quite the same,\" said Ramandu. \"It was not quite as a rest that he was set to govern the Duffers. You might call it a punishment. He might have shone for thousands of years more in the southern winter sky if all had gone well.\"\n\n\"What did he do, Sir?\" asked Caspian.\n\n\"My son,\" said Ramandu, \"it is not for you, a son of Adam, to know what faults a star can commit. But come, we waste time in such talk. Are you yet resolved? Will you sail further east and come again, leaving one to return no more, and so break the enchantment? Or will you sail westward?\"\n\n\"Surely, Sire,\" said Reepicheep, \"there is no question about that? It is very plainly part of our quest to rescue these three lords from enchantment.\"\n\n\"I think the same, Reepicheep,\" replied Caspian. \"And even if it were not so, it would break my heart not to go as near the World's End as the Dawn Treader will take us. But I am thinking of the crew. They signed onto seek the seven lords, not to reach the rim of the Earth. If we sail east from here we sail to find the edge, the utter east. And no one knows how far it is. They're brave fellows, but I see signs that some of them are weary of the voyage and long to have our prow pointing to Narnia again. I don't think I should take them further without their knowledge and consent. And then there's the poor Lord Rhoop. He's a broken man.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"My son,\" said the star, \"it would be no use, even though you wished it, to sail for the World's End with men unwilling or men deceived." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That is not how great unenchantments are achieved. They must know where they go and why. But who is this broken man you speak of?\"\n\nCaspian told Ramandu the story of Rhoop.\n\n\"I can give him what he needs most,\" said Ramandu. \"In this island there is sleep without stint or measure, and sleep in which no faintest footfall of a dream was ever heard. Let him sit beside these other three and drink oblivion till your return.\"\n\n\"Oh, do let's do that, Caspian,\" said Lucy. \"I'm sure it's just what he would love.\"\n\nAt that moment they were interrupted by the sound of many feet and voices: Drinian and the rest of the ship's company were approaching. They halted in surprise when they saw Ramandu and his daughter; and then, because these were obviously great people, every man uncovered his head. Some sailors eyed the empty dishes and flagons on the table with eyes filled with regret.\n\n\"My lord,\" said the King to Drinian, \"pray send two men back to the Dawn Treader with a message to the Lord Rhoop. Tell him that the last of his old shipmates are here asleep-asleep without dreams-and that he can share it.\"\n\nWhen this had been done, Caspian told the rest to sit down and laid the whole situation before them. When he had finished there was along silence and some whispering until presently the Master Bowman got to his feet, and said:\n\n\"What some of us have been wanting to ask fora longtime, your Majesty, is how we're ever to get home when we do turn, whether we turn here or somewhere else. It's been west and northwest winds all the way, barring an occasional calm. And if that doesn't change, I'd like to know what hopes we have of seeing Narnia again. There's not much chance of supplies lasting while we row all that way.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"That's landsman's talk,\" said Drinian." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There's always a prevailing west wind in these seas all through the late summer, and it always changes after the New Year. We'll have plenty of wind for sailing westward; more than we shall like from all accounts.\"\n\n\"That's true, Master,\" said an old sailor who was a Galmian by birth. \"You get some ugly weather rolling up from the east in January and February. And by your leave, Sire, if I was in command of this ship, I'd say to winter here and begin the voyage home in March.\"\n\n\"What'd you eat while you were wintering here?\" asked Eustace.\n\n\"This table,\" said Ramandu, \"will be filled with a king's feast everyday at sunset.\"\n\n\"Now you're talking!\" said several sailors.\n\n\"Your Majesties and gentlemen and ladies all,\" said Rynelf, \"there's just one thing I want to say. There's not one of us chaps as was pressed on this journey. We're volunteers. And there's some here that are looking very hard at that table and thinking about king's feasts who were talking very loud about adventures on the day we sailed from Cair Paravel, and swearing they wouldn't come home till we'd found the end of the world. And there were some standing on the quay who would have given all they had to come with us. It was thought a finer thing then to have a cabin-boy's berth on the Dawn Treader than to wear a knight's belt. I don't know if you get the hang of what I'm saying. But what I mean is that I think chaps who set out like us will look as silly as-as those Dufflepuds-if we come home and say we got to the beginning of the world's end and hadn't the heart to go further.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Some of the sailors cheered at this but some said that that was all very well.\n\n\"This isn't going to be much fun,\" whispered Edmund to Caspian. \"What are we to do if half those fellows hang back?\"\n\n\"Wait,\" Caspian whispered back. \"I've still a card to play.\"\n\n\"Aren't you going to say anything, Reep?\" whispered Lucy.\n\n\"No. Why should your Majesty expect it?\" answered Reepicheep in a voice that most people heard. \"My own plans are made. While I can, I sail east in the Dawn Treader. When she fails me, I paddle east in my coracle. When she sinks, I shall swim east with my four paws. And when I can swim no longer, if I have not reached Aslan's country, or shot over the edge of the world in some vast cataract, I shall sink with my nose to the sunrise and Peepiceek will behead of the talking mice in Narnia.\"\n\n\"Hear, hear,\" said a sailor. \"I'll say the same, barring the bit about the coracle, which wouldn't bear me.\" He added in a lower voice, \"I'm not going to be outdone by a mouse.\"\n\nAt this point Caspian jumped to his feet. \"Friends,\" he said, \"I think you have not quite understood our purpose. You talk as if we had come to you with our hat in our hand, begging for shipmates. It isn't like that at all. We and our royal brother and sister and their kinsman and Sir Reepicheep, the good knight, and the Lord Drinian have an errand to the world's edge. It is our pleasure to choose from among such of you as are willing those whom we deem worthy of so high an enterprise. We have not said that any can come for the asking. That is why we shall now command the Lord Drinian and Master Rhince to consider carefully what men among you are the hardest in battle, the most skilled seamen, the purest in blood, the most loyal to our person, and the cleanest of life and manners; and to give their names to us in a schedule.\" He paused and went on in a quicker voice, \"Aslan's mane!\" he exclaimed. \"Do you think that the privilege of seeing the last things is to be bought fora song? Why, every man that comes with us shall bequeath the title of Dawn Treader to all his descendants, and when we land at Cair Paravel on the homeward voyage he shall have either gold or land enough to make him rich all his life. Now-scatter over the island, all of you. In half an hour's time I shall receive the names that Lord Drinian brings me.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There was rather a sheepish silence and then the crew made their bows and moved away, one in this direction and one in that, but mostly in little knots or bunches, talking.\n\n\"And now for the Lord Rhoop,\" said Caspian.\n\nBut turning to the head of the table he saw that Rhoop was already there. He had arrived, silent and unnoticed, while the discussion was going on, and was seated beside the Lord Argoz. The daughter of Ramandu stood beside him as if she had just helped him into his chair; Ramandu stood behind him and laid both his hands on Rhoop's gray head. Even in daylight a faint silver light came from the hands of the star. There was a smile on Rhoop's haggard face. He held out one of his hands to Lucy and the other to Caspian. Fora moment it looked as if he were going to say something. Then his smile brightened as if he were feeling some delicious sensation, along sigh of contentment came from his lips, his head fell forward, and he slept.\n\n\"Poor Rhoop,\" said Lucy. \"I am glad. He must have had terrible times.\"\n\n\"Don't let's even think of it,\" said Eustace.\n\nMeanwhile Caspian's speech, helped perhaps by some magic of the island, was having just the effect he intended. A good many who had been anxious enough to get out of the voyage felt quite differently about being left out of it. And of course whenever anyone sailor announced that he had made up his mind to ask for permission to sail, the ones who hadn't said this felt that they were getting fewer and more uncomfortable. So that before the half-hour was nearly over several people were positively'sucking up\" to Drinian and Rhince (at least that was what they called it at my school) to get a good report. And soon there were only three left who didn't want to go, and those three were trying very hard to persuade others to stay with them. And very shortly after that there was only one left. And in the end he began to be afraid of being left behind all on his own and changed his mind." }, { "from": "human", "value": "At the end of the half-hour they all came trooping back to Aslan's Table and stood atone end while Drinian and Rhince went and sat down with Caspian and made their report; and Caspian accepted all the men but that one who had changed his mind at the last moment." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His name was Pittencream and he stayed on the Island of the Star all the time the others were away looking for the World's End, and he very much wished he had gone with them. He wasn't the sort of man who could enjoy talking to Ramandu and Ramandu's daughter (nor they to him), and it rained a good deal, and though there was a wonderful feast on the Table every night, he didn't very much enjoy it. He said it gave him the creeps sitting there alone (and in the rain as likely as not) with those four Lords asleep at the end of the Table. And when the others returned he felt so out of things that he deserted on the voyage home at the Lone Islands, and went and lived in Calormen, where he told wonderful stories about his adventures at the End of the World, until at last he came to believe them himself. So you may say, in a sense, that he lived happily ever after. But he could never bear mice.\n\nThat night they all ate and drank together at the great Table between the pillars where the feast was magically renewed: and next morning the Dawn Treader set sail once more just when the great birds had come and gone again.\n\n\"Lady,\" said Caspian, \" I hope to speak with you again when I have broken the enchantments. \"And Ramandu's daughter looked at him and smiled." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "VERY SOON AFTER THEY HAD LEFT Ramandu's country they began to feel that they had already sailed beyond the world. All was different. For one thing they all found that they were needing less sleep. One did not want to go to bed nor to eat much, nor even to talk except in low voices. Another thing was the light. There was too much of it. The sun when it came up each morning looked twice, if not three times, its usual size. And every morning (which gave Lucy the strangest feeling of all) the huge white birds, singing their song with human voices in a language no one knew, streamed overhead and vanished astern on their way to their breakfast at Aslan's Table. A little later they came flying back and vanished into the east.\n\n\"How beautifully clear the water is!\" said Lucy to herself, as she leaned over the port side early in the afternoon of the second day.\n\nAnd it was. The first thing that she noticed was a little black object, about the size of a shoe, traveling along at the same speed as the ship. Fora moment she thought it was something floating on the surface. But then there came floating pasta bit of stale bread which the cook had just thrown out of the galley. And the bit of bread looked as if it were going to collide with the black thing, but it didn't. It passed above it, and Lucy now saw that the black thing could not be on the surface. Then the black thing suddenly got very much bigger and flicked back to normal size a moment later.\n\nNow Lucy knew she had seen something just like that happen somewhere else-if only she could remember where. She held her hand to her head and screwed up her face and putout her tongue in the effort to remember. At last she did. Of course! It was like what you saw from a train on a bright sunny day. You saw the black shadow of your own coach running along the fields at the same pace as the train. Then you went into a cutting; and immediately the same shadow flicked closeup to you and got big, racing along the grass of the cutting-bank. Then you came out of the cutting and-flick!-once more the black shadow had gone back to its normal size and was running along the fields." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It's our shadow!-the shadow of the Dawn Treader,\" said Lucy. \"Our shadow running along on the bottom of the sea. That time when it got bigger it went over a hill. But in that case the water must be clearer than I thought! Good gracious, I must be seeing the bottom of the sea; fathoms and fathoms down.\"\n\nAs soon as she had said this she realized that the great silvery expanse which she had been seeing (without noticing) for sometime was really the sand on the sea-bed and that all sorts of darker or brighter patches were not lights and shadows on the surface but real things on the bottom. At present, for instance, they were passing over amass of soft purply green with abroad, winding strip of pale gray in the middle of it. But now that she knew it was on the bottom she saw it much better. She could see that bits of the dark stuff were much higher than other bits and were waving gently. \"Just like trees in a wind,\" said Lucy. \"And I do believe that's what they are. It's a submarine forest.\"\n\nThey passed on above it and presently the pale streak was joined by another pale streak. \"If I was down there,\" thought Lucy, \"that streak would be just like a road through the wood. And that place where it joins the other would be a crossroads. Oh, I do wish I was. Hallo! the forest is coming to an end. And I do believe the streak really was a road! I can still see it going on across the open sand. It's a different color. And it's marked outwith something at the edges-dotted lines. Perhaps they are stones. And now it's getting wider.\"\n\nBut it was not really getting wider, it was getting nearer. She realized this because of the way in which the shadow of the ship came rushing up toward her. And the road-she felt sure it was a road now-began to go in zigzags. Obviously it was climbing up a steep hill. And when she held her head sideways and looked back, what she saw was very like what you see when you look down a winding road from the top of a hill. She could even seethe shafts of sunlight falling through the deep water onto the wooded valley-and, in the extreme distance, everything melting away into a dim greenness. But some places-the sunny ones, she thought-were ultramarine blue." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Advance the storyline as the writer's tale partner.\nTags: fantasy, chronicle of narnia, sea voyage\nAuthor: C.S. Lewis\nTitle: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader\nChapter: 17" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It's our shadow!-the shadow of the Dawn Treader,\" said Lucy. \"Our shadow running along on the bottom of the sea. That time when it got bigger it went over a hill. But in that case the water must be clearer than I thought! Good gracious, I must be seeing the bottom of the sea; fathoms and fathoms down.\"\n\nAs soon as she had said this she realized that the great silvery expanse which she had been seeing (without noticing) for sometime was really the sand on the sea-bed and that all sorts of darker or brighter patches were not lights and shadows on the surface but real things on the bottom. At present, for instance, they were passing over amass of soft purply green with abroad, winding strip of pale gray in the middle of it. But now that she knew it was on the bottom she saw it much better. She could see that bits of the dark stuff were much higher than other bits and were waving gently. \"Just like trees in a wind,\" said Lucy. \"And I do believe that's what they are. It's a submarine forest.\"\n\nThey passed on above it and presently the pale streak was joined by another pale streak. \"If I was down there,\" thought Lucy, \"that streak would be just like a road through the wood. And that place where it joins the other would be a crossroads. Oh, I do wish I was. Hallo! the forest is coming to an end. And I do believe the streak really was a road! I can still see it going on across the open sand. It's a different color. And it's marked outwith something at the edges-dotted lines. Perhaps they are stones. And now it's getting wider.\"\n\nBut it was not really getting wider, it was getting nearer. She realized this because of the way in which the shadow of the ship came rushing up toward her. And the road-she felt sure it was a road now-began to go in zigzags. Obviously it was climbing up a steep hill. And when she held her head sideways and looked back, what she saw was very like what you see when you look down a winding road from the top of a hill. She could even seethe shafts of sunlight falling through the deep water onto the wooded valley-and, in the extreme distance, everything melting away into a dim greenness. But some places-the sunny ones, she thought-were ultramarine blue." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She could not, however, spend much time looking back; what was coming into view in the forward direction was too exciting. The road had apparently now reached the top of the hill and ran straightforward. Little specks were moving to and fro on it. And now something most wonderful, fortunately in full sunlight-or as full as it can be when it falls through fathoms of water-flashed into sight. It was knobbly and jagged and of a pearly, or perhaps an ivory, color. She was so nearly straight above it that at first she could hardly make out what it was. But everything became plain when she noticed its shadow. The sunlight was falling across Lucy's shoulders, so the shadow of the thing lay stretched out on the sand behind it. And by its shape she saw clearly that it was a shadow of towers and pinnacles, minarets and domes.\n\n\"Why!-it's a city or a huge castle,\" said Lucy to herself. \"But I wonder why they've built it on top of a high mountain?\"\n\nLong afterward when she was back in England and talked all these adventures over with Edmund, they thought of a reason and I am pretty sure it is the true one. In the sea, the deeper you go, the darker and colder it gets, and it is down there, in the dark and cold, that dangerous things live-the squid and the Sea Serpent and the Kraken. The valleys are the wild, unfriendly places. The sea-people feel about their valleys as we do about mountains, and feel about their mountains as we feel about valleys. It is on the heights (or, as we would say, \"in the shallows\") that there is warmth and peace. The reckless hunters and brave knights of the sea go down into the depths on quests and adventures, but return home to the heights for rest and peace, courtesy and council, the sports, the dances and the songs." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They had passed the city and the sea-bed was still rising. It was only a few hundred feet below the ship now. The road had disappeared. They were sailing above an open park-like country, dotted with little groves of brightly-colored vegetation. And then-Lucy nearly squealed aloud with excitement-she had seen People.\n\nThere were between fifteen and twenty of them, and all mounted on sea-horses-not the tiny little sea-horses which you may have seen in museums but horses rather bigger than themselves. They must be noble and lordly people, Lucy thought, for she could catch the gleam of gold on some of their foreheads and streamers of emerald-or orange-colored stuff fluttered from their shoulders in the current. Then:\n\n\"Oh, bother these fish!\" said Lucy, fora whole shoal of small fat fish, swimming quite close to the surface, had come between her and the Sea People. But though this spoiled her view it led to the most interesting thing of all. Suddenly a fierce little fish of a kind she had never seen before came darting up from below, snapped, grabbed, and sank rapidly with one of the fat fish in its mouth. And all the Sea People were sitting on their horses staring up at what had happened. They seemed to be talking and laughing. And before the hunting fish had got back to them with its prey, another of the same kind came up from the Sea People. And Lucy was almost certain that one big Sea Man who sat on his sea-horse in the middle of the party had sent it or released it; as if he had been holding it back till then in his hand or on his wrist.\n\n\"Why, I do declare,\" said Lucy, \"it's a hunting party. Or more like a hawking party. Yes, that's it. They ride outwith these little fierce fish on their wrists just as we used to ride outwith falcons on our wrists when we were Kings and Queens at Cair Paravel long ago. And then they fly them-or I suppose I should say swim them-at the others. How-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She stopped suddenly because the scene was changing. The Sea People had noticed the Dawn Treader. The shoal offish had scattered in every direction: the People themselves were coming up to find out the meaning of this big, black thing which had come between them and the sun. And now they were so close to the surface that if they had been in air, instead of water, Lucy could have spoken to them. There were men and women both. All wore coronets of some kind and many had chains of pearls. They wore no other clothes. Their bodies were the color of old ivory, their hair dark purple. The King in the center (no one could mistake him for anything but the King) looked proudly and fiercely into Lucy's face and shook a spear in his hand. His knights did the same. The faces of the ladies were filled with astonishment. Lucy felt sure they had never seen a ship or a human before-and how should they, in seas beyond the world's end where no ship ever came?\n\n\"What are you staring at, Lu?\" said a voice close beside her.\n\nLucy had been so absorbed in what she was seeing that she started at the sound, and when she turned she found that her arm had gone'dead\" from leaning so long on the rail in one position. Drinian and Edmund were beside her.\n\n\"Look,\" she said.\n\nThey both looked, but almost at once Drinian said in a low voice:\n\n\"Turn round at once, your Majesties-that's right, with our backs to the sea. And don't look as if we were talking about anything important.\"\n\n\"Why, what's the matter?\" said Lucy as she obeyed.\n\n\"It'll never do for the sailors to see all that,\" said Drinian. \"We'll have men falling in love with a sea-woman, or falling in love with the under-sea country itself, and jumping overboard. I've heard of that kind of thing happening before in strange seas. It's always unlucky to see these people.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But we used to know them,\" said Lucy. \"In the old days at Cair Paravel when my brother Peter was High King. They came to the surface and sang at our coronation.\"\n\n\"I think that must have been a different kind, Lu,\" said Edmund. \"They could live in the air as well asunder water. I rather think these can't. By the look of them they'd have surfaced and started attacking us long ago if they could. They seem very fierce.\"\n\n\"At any rate,\" began Drinian, but at that moment two sounds were heard. One was a plop. The other was a voice from the fighting-top shouting, \"Man overboard!\" Then everyone was busy. Some of the sailors hurried aloft to take in the sail; others hurried below to get to the oars; and Rhince, who was on duty on the poop, began to put the helm hard over so as to come round and back to the man who had gone overboard. But by now everyone knew that it wasn't strictly a man. It was Reepicheep.\n\n\"Drat that mouse!\" said Drinian. \"It's more trouble than all the rest of the ship's company put together. If there is any scrape to begot into, in it will get! It ought to be put in irons-keel-hauled-marooned-have its whiskers cutoff. Can anyone seethe little blighter?\"\n\nAll this didn't mean that Drinian really disliked Reepicheep. On the contrary he liked him very much and was therefore frightened about him, and being frightened put him in a bad temper-just as your mother is much angrier with you for running out into the road in front of a car than a stranger would be. No one, of course, was afraid of Reepicheep's drowning, for he was an excellent swimmer; but the three who knew what was going on below the water were afraid of those long, cruel spears in the hands of the Sea People." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Ina few minutes the Dawn Treader had come round and everyone could seethe black blob in the water which was Reepicheep." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He was chattering with the greatest excitement but as his mouth kept on getting filled with water nobody could understand what he was saying.\n\n\"He'll blurt the whole thing out if we don't shut him up,\" cried Drinian. To prevent this he rushed to the side and lowered a rope himself, shouting to the sailors, \"All right, all right. Back to your places. I hope I can heave a mouse up without help.\" And as Reepicheep began climbing up the rope-not very nimbly because his wet fur made him heavy-Drinian leaned over and whispered to him.\n\n\"Don't tell. Not a word.\"\n\nBut when the dripping Mouse had reached the deck it turned out not to beat all interested in the Sea People.\n\n\"Sweet!\" he cheeped. \"Sweet, sweet!\"\n\n\"What are you talking about?\" asked Drinian crossly. \"And you needn't shake yourself allover me, either.\"\n\n\"I tell you the water's sweet,\" said the Mouse. \"Sweet, fresh. It isn't salt.\"\n\nFora moment no one quite took in the importance of this. But then Reepicheep once more repeated the old prophecy:\n\nThen at last everyone understood.\n\n\"Let me have a bucket, Rynelf,\" said Drinian.\n\nIt was handed him and he lowered it and up it came again. The water shone in it like glass.\n\n\"Perhaps your Majesty would like to taste it first,\" said Drinian to Caspian.\n\nThe King took the bucket in both hands, raised it to his lips, sipped, then drank deeply and raised his head. His face was changed. Not only his eyes but everything about him seemed to be brighter.\n\n\"Yes,\" he said, \"it is sweet. That's real water, that. I'm not sure that it isn't going to kill me. But it is the death I would have chosen-if I'd known about it till now.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What do you mean?\" asked Edmund.\n\n\"It-it's like light more than anything else,\" said Caspian.\n\n\"That is what it is,\" said Reepicheep. \"Drinkable light. We must be very near the end of the world now.\"\n\nThere was a moment's silence and then Lucy knelt down on the deck and drank from the bucket.\n\n\"It's the loveliest thing I have ever tasted,\" she said with a kind of gasp. \"But oh-it's strong. We shan't need to eat anything now.\"\n\nAnd one by one everybody onboard drank. And fora longtime they were all silent. They felt almost too well and strong to bear it; and presently they began to notice another result. As I have said before, there had been too much light ever since they left the island of Ramandu-the sun too large (though not too hot), the sea too bright, the air too shining. Now, the light grew no less-if anything, it increased-but they could bear it. They could look straight up at the sun without blinking. They could see more light than they had ever seen before. And the deck and the sail and their own faces and bodies became brighter and brighter and every rope shone. And next morning, when the sun rose, now five or six times its old size, they stared hard into it and could seethe very feathers of the birds that came flying from it.\n\nHardly a word was spoken onboard all that day, till about dinner-time (no one wanted any dinner, the water was enough for them) Drinian said:\n\n\"I can't understand this. There is not a breath of wind. The sail hangs dead. The sea is as flat as a pond. And yet we drive on as fast as if there were a gale behind us.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I've been thinking that, too,\" said Caspian." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We must be caught in some strong current.\"\n\n\"H'm,\" said Edmund. \"That's not so nice if the World really has an edge and we're getting near it.\"\n\n\"You mean,\" said Caspian, \"that we might be just-well, poured over it?\"\n\n\"Yes, yes,\" cried Reepicheep, clapping his paws together. \"That's how I've always imagined it-the World like a great round table and the waters of all the oceans endlessly pouring over the edge. The ship will tip up-stand on her head-for one moment we shall see over the edge-and then, down, down, the rush, the speed-\"\n\n\"And what do you think will be waiting for us at the bottom, eh?\" said Drinian.\n\n\"Aslan's country, perhaps,\" said the Mouse, its eyes shining. \"Or perhaps there isn't any bottom. Perhaps it goes down forever and ever. But whatever it is, won't it be worth anything just to have looked for one moment beyond the edge of the world.\"\n\n\"But look here,\" said Eustace, \"this is all rot. The world's round-I mean, round like a ball, not like a table.\"\n\n\"Our world is,\" said Edmund. \"But is this?\"\n\n\"Do you mean to say,\" asked Caspian, \"that you three come from around world (round like a ball) and you've never told me! It's really too bad of you. Because we have fairy-tales in which there are round worlds and I always loved them. I never believed there were any real ones. But I've always wished there were and I've always longed to live in one. Oh, I'd give anything-I wonder why you can get into our world and we never get into yours? If only I had the chance! It must be exciting to live on a thing like a ball. Have you ever been to the parts where people walkabout upside-down?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Edmund shook his head. \"And it isn't like that,\" he added. \"There's nothing particularly exciting about around world when you're there.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "REEPICHEEP WAS THE ONLY PERSON ON board besides Drinian and the two Pevensies who had noticed the Sea People. He had dived in at once when he saw the Sea King shaking his spear, for he regarded this as a sort of threat or challenge and wanted to have the matter out there and then. The excitement of discovering that the water was now fresh had distracted his attention, and before he remembered the Sea People again Lucy and Drinian had taken him aside and warned him not to mention what he had seen.\n\nAs things turned out they need hardly have bothered, for by this time the Dawn Treader was gliding over apart of the sea which seemed to be uninhabited. No one except Lucy saw anything more of the People, and even she had only one short glimpse. All morning on the following day they sailed in fairly shallow water and the bottom was weedy. Just before midday Lucy saw a large shoal of fishes grazing on the weed. They were all eating steadily and all moving in the same direction. \"Just like a flock of sheep,\" thought Lucy. Suddenly she saw a little Sea Girl of about her own age in the middle of them-a quiet, lonely-looking girl with a sort of crook in her hand. Lucy felt sure that this girl must be a shepherdess-or perhaps a fish-herdess-and that the shoal was really a flock at pasture. Both the fishes and the girl were quite close to the surface. And just as the girl, gliding in the shallow water, and Lucy, leaning over the bulwark, came opposite to one another, the girl looked up and stared straight into Lucy's face. Neither could speak to the other and in a moment the Sea Girl dropped astern. But Lucy will never forget her face. It did not look frightened or angry like those of the other Sea People. Lucy had liked that girl and she felt certain the girl had liked her. In that one moment they had somehow become friends. There does not seem to be much chance of their meeting again in that world or any other. But if ever they do they will rush together with their hands held out." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After that for many days, without wind in her shrouds or foam at her bows, across a waveless sea, the Dawn Treader glided smoothly east. Everyday and every hour the light became more brilliant and still they could bear it. No one ate or slept and no one wanted to, but they drew buckets of dazzling water from the sea, stronger than wine and somehow wetter, more liquid, than ordinary water, and pledged one another silently in deep drafts of it. And one or two of the sailors who had been oldish men when the voyage began now grew younger everyday. Everyone onboard was filled with joy and excitement, but not an excitement that made one talk. The further they sailed the less they spoke, and then almost in a whisper. The stillness of that last sea laid hold on them.\n\n\"My Lord,\" said Caspian to Drinian one day, \"what do you see ahead?\"\n\n\"Sire,\" said Drinian, \"I see whiteness. All along the horizon from north to south, as far as my eyes can reach.\"\n\n\"That is what I see too,\" said Caspian, \"and I cannot imagine what it is.\"\n\n\"If we were in higher latitudes, your Majesty,\" said Drinian, \"I would say it was ice. But it can't be that; not here. All the same, we'd better get men to the oars and hold the ship back against the current. Whatever the stuff is, we don't want to crash into it at this speed!\"\n\nThey did as Drinian said, and so continued to go slower and slower. The whiteness did not get any less mysterious as they approached it. If it was land it must be a very strange land, for it seemed just as smooth as the water and on the same level with it. When they got very close to it Drinian put the helm hard over and turned the Dawn Treader south so that she was broadside onto the current and rowed a little way southward along the edge of the whiteness. In so doing they accidentally made the important discovery that the current was only about forty feet wide and the rest of the sea as still as a pond. This was good news for the crew, who had already begun to think that the return journey to Ramandu's land, rowing against stream all the way, would be pretty poor sport. (It also explained why the shepherd girl had dropped so quickly astern. She was not in the current. If she had been she would have been moving east at the same speed as the ship.)" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And still no one could make out what the white stuff was. Then the boat was lowered and it put off to investigate. Those who remained on the Dawn Treader could see that the boat pushed right in amidst the whiteness. Then they could hear the voices of the party in the boat (clear across the still water) talking in a shrill and surprised way. Then there was a pause while Rynelf in the bows of the boat took a sounding; and when, after that, the boat came rowing back there seemed to be plenty of the white stuff inside her. Everyone crowded to the side to hear the news.\n\n\"Lilies, your Majesty!\" shouted Rynelf, standing up in the bows.\n\n\"What did you say?\" asked Caspian.\n\n\"Blooming lilies, your Majesty,\" said Rynelf. \"Same as in a pool or in a garden at home.\"\n\n\"Look!\" said Lucy, who was in the stern of the boat. She held up her wet arms full of white petals and broad flat leaves.\n\n\"What's the depth, Rynelf?\" asked Drinian.\n\n\"That's the funny thing, Captain,\" said Rynelf. \"It's still deep. Three and a half fathoms clear.\"\n\n\"They can't be real lilies-not what we call lilies,\" said Eustace.\n\nProbably they were not, but they were very like them. And when, after some consultation, the Dawn Treader turned back into the current and began to glide eastward through the Lily Lake or the Silver Sea (they tried both these names but it was the Silver Sea that stuck and is now on Caspian's map) the strangest part of their travels began. Very soon the open sea which they were leaving was only a thin rim of blue on the western horizon. Whiteness, shot with faintest color of gold, spread round them on every side, except just astern where their passage had thrust the lilies apart and left an open lane of water that shone like dark green glass. To look at, this last sea was very like the Arctic; and if their eyes had not by now grown as strong as eagles\" the sun on all that whiteness-especially at early morning when the sun was hugest-would have been unbearable. And every evening the same whiteness made the daylight last longer. There seemed no end to the lilies. Day after day from all those miles and leagues of flowers there rose a smell which Lucy found it very hard to describe; sweet-yes, but not at all sleepy or overpowering, afresh, wild, lonely smell that seemed to get into your brain and make you feel that you could go up mountains at a run or wrestle with an elephant. She and Caspian said to one another, \"I feel that I can't stand much more of this, yet I don't want it to stop.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "They took soundings very often but it was only several days later that the water became shallower." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After that it went on getting shallower. There came a day when they had to row out of the current and feel their way forward at a snail's pace, rowing. And soon it was clear that the Dawn Treader could sail no further east. Indeed it was only by very clever handling that they saved her from grounding.\n\n\"Lower the boat,\" cried Caspian, \"and then call the men aft. I must speak to them.\"\n\n\"What's he going to do?\" whispered Eustace to Edmund. \"There's a queer look in his eyes.\"\n\n\"I think we probably all look the same,\" said Edmund.\n\nThey joined Caspian on the poop and soon all the men were crowded together at the foot of the ladder to hear the King's speech.\n\n\"Friends,\" said Caspian, \"we have now fulfilled the quest on which you embarked. The seven lords are all accounted for and as Sir Reepicheep has sworn never to return, when you reach Ramandu's Land you will doubtless find the Lords Revilian and Argoz and Mavramorn awake. To you, my Lord Drinian, I entrust this ship, bidding you sail to Narnia with all the speed you may, and above all not to land on the Island of Deathwater. And instruct my regent, the Dwarf Trumpkin, to give to all these, my shipmates, the rewards I promised them. They have been earned well. And if I come not again it is my will that the Regent, and Master Cornelius, and Trufflehunter the Badger, and the Lord Drinian choose a King of Narnia with the consent-\"\n\n\"But, Sire,\" interrupted Drinian, \"are you abdicating?\"\n\n\"I am going with Reepicheep to seethe World's End,\" said Caspian." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A low murmur of dismay ran through the sailors.\n\n\"We will take the boat,\" said Caspian. \"You will have no need of it in these gentle seas and you must build anew one on Ramandu's island. And now-\"\n\n\"Caspian,\" said Edmund suddenly and sternly, \"you can't do this.\"\n\n\"Most certainly,\" said Reepicheep, \"his Majesty cannot.\"\n\n\"No indeed,\" said Drinian.\n\n\"Can't?\" said Caspian sharply, looking fora moment not unlike his uncle Miraz.\n\n\"Begging your Majesty's pardon,\" said Rynelf from the deck below, \"but if one of us did the same it would be called deserting.\"\n\n\"You presume too much on your long service, Rynelf,\" said Caspian.\n\n\"No, Sire! He's perfectly right,\" said Drinian.\n\n\"By the Mane of Aslan,\" said Caspian, \"I had thought you were all my subjects here, not my schoolmasters.\"\n\n\"I'm not,\" said Edmund, \"and I say you cannot do this.\"\n\n\"Can't again,\" said Caspian. \"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"If it please your Majesty, we mean shall not,\" said Reepicheep with a very low bow. \"You are the King of Narnia. You break faith with all your subjects, and especially with Trumpkin, if you do not return. You shall not please yourself with adventures as if you were a private person. And if your Majesty will not hear reason it will be the truest loyalty of every man onboard to follow me in disarming and binding you till you come to your senses.\"\n\n\"Quite right,\" said Edmund. \"Like they did with Ulysses when he wanted to go near the Sirens.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Caspian's hand had gone to his sword hilt, when Lucy said, \"And you've almost promised Ramandu's daughter to go back.\"\n\nCaspian paused. \"Well, yes. There is that,\" he said. He stood irresolute fora moment and then shouted out to the ship in general.\n\n\"Well, have your way. The quest is ended. We all return. Get the boat up again.\"\n\n\"Sire,\" said Reepicheep, \"we do not all return. I, as I explained before-\"\n\n\"Silence!\" thundered Caspian. \"I've been lessoned but I'll not be baited. Will no one silence that Mouse?\"\n\n\"Your Majesty promised,\" said Reepicheep, \"to be good lord to the Talking Beasts of Narnia.\"\n\n\"Talking beasts, yes,\" said Caspian. \"I said nothing about beasts that never stop talking.\" And he flung down the ladder in a temper and went into the cabin, slamming the door.\n\nBut when the others rejoined him a little later they found him changed; he was white and there were tears in his eyes.\n\n\"It's no good,\" he said. \"I might as well have behaved decently for all the good I did with my temper and swagger. Aslan has spoken tome. No-I don't mean he was actually here. He wouldn't fit into the cabin, for one thing. But that gold lion's head on the wall came to life and spoke tome. It was terrible-his eyes. Not that he was at all rough with me-only a bit stern at first. But it was terrible all the same. And he said-he said-oh, I can't bear it. The worst thing he could have said. You're to goon-Reep and Edmund, and Lucy, and Eustace; and I'm to go back. Alone. And at once. And what is the good of anything?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Caspian, dear,\" said Lucy." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You knew we'd have to go back to our own world sooner or later.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Caspian with a sob, \"but this is sooner.\"\n\n\"You'll feel better when you get back to Ramandu's Island,\" said Lucy.\n\nHe cheered up a little later on, but it was a grievous parting on both sides and I will not dwell on it. About two o'clock in the afternoon, well victualed and watered (though they thought they would need neither food nor drink) and with Reepicheep's coracle onboard, the boat pulled away from the Dawn Treader to row through the endless carpet of lilies. The Dawn Treader flew all her flags and hung out her shields to honor their departure. Tall and big and homelike she looked from their low position with the lilies all round them. And even before she was out of sight they saw her turn and begin rowing slowly westward. Yet though Lucy shed a few tears, she could not feel it as much as you might have expected. The light, the silence, the tingling smell of the Silver Sea, even (in some odd way) the loneliness itself, were too exciting.\n\nThere was no need to row, for the current drifted them steadily to the east. None of them slept orate. All that night and all next day they glided eastward, and when the third day dawned-with a brightness you or I could not bear even if we had dark glasses on-they saw a wonder ahead. It was as if a wall stood up between them and the sky, a greenish-gray, trembling, shimmering wall. Then up came the sun, and at its first rising they saw it through the wall and it turned into wonderful rainbow colors. Then they knew that the wall was really along, tall wave-a wave endlessly fixed in one place as you may often see at the edge of a waterfall. It seemed to be about thirty feet high, and the current was gliding them swiftly toward it. You might have supposed they would have thought of their danger. They didn't. I don't think anyone could have in their position. For now they saw something not only behind the wave but behind the sun. They could not have seen even the sun if their eyes had not been strengthened by the water of the Last Sea. But now they could look at the rising sun and see it clearly and see things beyond it. What they saw-eastward, beyond the sun-was a range of mountains. It was so high that either they never saw the top of it or they forgot it. None of them remembers seeing any sky in that direction. And the mountains must really have been outside the world. For any mountains even a quarter of a twentieth of that height ought to have had ice and snow on them. But these were warm and green and full of forests and waterfalls however high you looked. And suddenly there came a breeze from the east, tossing the top of the wave into foamy shapes and ruffling the smooth water all round them. It lasted only a second or so but what it brought them in that second none of those three children will ever forget. It brought both a smell and a sound, a musical sound Edmund and Eustace would never talk about it afterward. Lucy could only say, \"It would break your heart.\" \"Why,\" said I, \"was it so sad?\" \"Sad!! No,\" said Lucy." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "No one in that boat doubted that they were seeing beyond the End of the World into Aslan's country.\n\nAt that moment, with a crunch, the boat ran aground. The water was too shallow now for it. \"This,\" said Reepicheep, \"is where I goon alone.\"\n\nThey did not even try to stop him, for everything now felt as if it had been fated or had happened before. They helped him to lower his little coracle. Then he took off his sword (\"I shall need it no more,\" he said) and flung it faraway across the lilied sea. Where it fell it stood upright with the hilt above the surface. Then he bade them good-bye, trying to be sad for their sakes; but he was quivering with happiness. Lucy, for the first and last time, did what she had always wanted to do, taking him in her arms and caressing him. Then hastily he got into his coracle and took his paddle, and the current caught it and away he went, very black against the lilies. But no lilies grew on the wave; it was a smooth green slope. The coracle went more and more quickly, and beautifully it rushed up the wave's side. For one split second they saw its shape and Reepicheep's on the very top. Then it vanished, and since that moment no one can truly claim to have seen Reepicheep the Mouse. But my belief is that he came safe to Aslan's country and is alive thereto this day.\n\nAs the sun rose the sight of those mountains outside the world faded away. The wave remained but there was only blue sky behind it.\n\nThe children got out of the boat and waded-not toward the wave but southward with the wall of water on their left. They could not have told you why they did this; it was their fate. And though they had felt-and been-very grown-upon the Dawn Treader, they now felt just the opposite and held hands as they waded through the lilies. They never felt tired. The water was warm and all the time it got shallower. At last they were on dry sand, and then on grass-a huge plain of very fine short grass, almost level with the Silver Sea and spreading in every direction without so much as a molehill." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And of course, as it always does in a perfectly flat place without trees, it looked as if the sky came down to meet the grass in front of them. But as they went on they got the strangest impression that here at last the sky did really comedown and join the earth-a blue wall, very bright, but real and solid: more like glass than anything else. And soon they were quite sure of it. It was very near now.\n\nBut between them and the foot of the sky there was something so white on the green grass that even with their eagles' eyes they could hardly look at it. They came on and saw that it was a Lamb.\n\n\"Come and have breakfast,\" said the Lamb in its sweet milky voice.\n\nThen they noticed for the first time that there was afire lit on the grass and fish roasting on it. They sat down and ate the fish, hungry now for the first time for many days. And it was the most delicious food they had ever tasted.\n\n\"Please, Lamb,\" said Lucy, \"is this the way to Aslan's country?\"\n\n\"Not for you,\" said the Lamb. \"For you the door into Aslan's country is from your own world.\"\n\n\"What!\" said Edmund. \"Is there away into Aslan's country from our world too?\"\n\n\"There is away into my country from all the worlds,\" said the Lamb; but as he spoke his snowy white flushed into tawny gold and his size changed and he was Aslan himself, towering above them and scattering light from his mane.\n\n\"Oh, Aslan,\" said Lucy. \"Will you tell us how to get into your country from our world?\"\n\n\"I shall be telling you all the time,\" said Aslan. \"But I will not tell you how long or short the way will be; only that it lies across a river. But do not fear that, for I am the great Bridge Builder. And now come; I will open the door in the sky and send you to your own land.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Please, Aslan,\" said Lucy. \"Before we go, will you tell us when we can comeback to Narnia again? Please. And oh, do, do, do make it soon.\"\n\n\"Dearest,\" said Aslan very gently, \"you and your brother will never comeback to Narnia.\"\n\n\"Oh, Aslan!!\" said Edmund and Lucy both together in despairing voices.\n\n\"You are too old, children,\" said Aslan, \"and you must begin to come close to your own world now.\"\n\n\"It isn't Narnia, you know,\" sobbed Lucy. \"It's you. We shan't meet you there. And how can we live, never meeting you?\"\n\n\"But you shall meet me, dear one,\" said Aslan.\n\n\"Are-are you there too, Sir?\" said Edmund.\n\n\"I am,\" said Aslan. \"But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here fora little, you may know me better there.\"\n\n\"And is Eustace never to comeback here either?\" said Lucy.\n\n\"Child,\" said Aslan, \"do you really need to know that? Come, I am opening the door in the sky.\" Then all in one moment there was a rending of the blue wall (like a curtain being torn) and a terrible white light from beyond the sky, and the feel of Aslan's mane and a Lion's kiss on their foreheads and then-the back bedroom in Aunt Alberta's home at Cambridge.\n\nOnly two more things need to be told. One is that Caspian and his men all came safely back to Ramandu's Island. And the three lords woke from their sleep. Caspian married Ramandu's daughter and they all reached Narnia in the end, and she became a great queen and the mother and grandmother of great kings. The other is that back in our own world everyone soon started saying how Eustace had improved, and how'You'd never know him for the same boy\": everyone except Aunt Alberta, who said he had become very commonplace and tiresome and it must have been the influence of those Pevensie children." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Advance the storyline as the writer's tale partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, knights radiant\nAuthor: Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: The Way of Kings\nChapter: 13" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The wagon rolled on. After a time, he felt sunlight on his face. He opened his eyes. The sun shone in through the upper side of the cage. Two or three hours past noon, then. What of afternoon slop? Kaladin stood, pulling himself up with one hand on the steel bars. He couldn't make out Tvlakv driving the wagon up ahead, only flat-faced Bluth behind. The mercenary had on a dirty shirt that laced up the front and wore a wide-brimmed hat against the sun, his spear and cudgel riding on the wagon bench beside him. He didn't carry a sword-not even Tvlakv did that, not near Alethi land.\n\nThe grass continued to part for the wagons, vanishing just in front, then creeping out after the wagons passed. The landscape here was dotted with strange shrubs that Kaladin didn't recognize. They had thick stalks and stems and spiny green needles. Whenever the wagons grew too close, the needles pulled into the stalks, leaving behind twisted, wormlike trunks with knotted branches. They dotted the hilly landscape, rising from the grass-covered rocks like diminutive sentries.\n\nThe wagons just kept ongoing, well past noon. Why aren't we stopping for slop?\n\nThe lead wagon finally pulled to a stop. The other two lurched to a halt behind it, the red-carapaced chulls fidgeted, their antennae waving back and forth. The box-shaped animals had bulging, stony shells and thick, trunklike red legs. From what Kaladin had heard, their claws could snap a man's arm. But chulls were docile, particularly domesticated ones, and he'd never known anyone in the army to get more than a halfhearted pinch from one." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Bluth and Tag climbed down from their wagons and walked up to meet Tvlakv. The slavemaster stood on his wagon's seat, shading his eyes against the white sunlight and holding a sheet of paper in his hand. An argument ensued. Tvlakv kept waving in the direction they had been going, then pointing at his sheet of paper.\n\n\"Lost, Tvlakv?\" Kaladin called. \"Perhaps you should pray to the Almighty for guidance. I hear he has a fondness for slavers. Keeps a special room in Damnation just for you.\"\n\nTo Kaladin's left, one of the slaves-the long-bearded man who had talked to him a few days back-sidled away, not wanting to stand close to a person who was provoking the slaver.\n\nTvlakv hesitated, then waved curtly to his mercenaries, silencing them. The portly man hopped down from his wagon and walked over to Kaladin. \"You,\" he said. \"Deserter. Alethi armies travel these lands for their war. Do you know anything of the area?\"\n\n\"Let me seethe map,\" Kaladin said. Tvlakv hesitated, then held it up for Kaladin.\n\nKaladin reached through the bars and snatched the paper. Then, without reading it, Kaladin ripped it in two. In seconds he'd shredded it into a hundred pieces in front of Tvlakv's horrified eyes.\n\nTvlakv called for the mercenaries, but by the time they arrived, Kaladin had a double handful of confetti to toss out at them. \"Happy Middlefest, you bastards,\" Kaladin said as the flakes of paper fluttered around them. He turned and walked to the other side of the cage and sat down, facing them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Tvlakv stood, speechless. Then, red faced, he pointed at Kaladin and hissed something at the mercenaries. Bluth took a step toward the cage, but then thought better of it. He glanced at Tvlakv, then shrugged and walked away. Tvlakv turned to Tag, but the other mercenary just shook his head, saying something soft.\n\nAfter a few minutes of stewing at the cowardly mercenaries, Tvlakv rounded the cage and approached where Kaladin was sitting. Surprisingly, when he spoke, his voice was calm. \"I see you are clever, deserter. You have made yourself invaluable. My other slaves, they aren't from this area, and I have never come this way. You can bargain. What is it you wish in exchange for leading us? I can promise you an extra meal each day, should you please me.\"\n\n\"You want me to lead the caravan?\"\n\n\"Instructions will be acceptable.\"\n\n\"All right. First, find a cliff.\"\n\n\"That, it will give you a vantage to seethe area?\"\n\n\"No,\" Kaladin said. \"It will give me something to throw you off of.\"\n\nTvlakv adjusted his cap in annoyance, brushing back one of his long white eyebrows. \"You hate me. That is good. Hatred will keep you strong, make you sell for much. But you will not find vengeance on me unless I have a chance to take you to market. I will not let you escape. But perhaps someone else would. You want to be sold, you see?\"\n\n\"I don't want vengeance,\" Kaladin said. The windspren came back-she'd darted off fora time to inspect one of the strange shrubs. She landed in the air and began walking around Tvlakv's face, inspecting him. He didn't seem to be able to see her." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Tvlakv frowned." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No vengeance?\"\n\n\"It doesn't work,\" Kaladin said. \"I learned that lesson long ago.\"\n\n\"Long ago? You cannot be older than eighteen years, deserter.\"\n\nIt was a good guess. He was nineteen. Had it really only been four years since he'd joined Amaram's army? Kaladin felt as if he'd aged a dozen.\n\n\"You are young,\" Tvlakv continued. \"You could escape this fate of yours. Men have been known to live beyond the slave's brand-you could payoff your slave price, you see? Or convince one of your masters to give you your freedom. You could become a freeman again. It is not so unlikely.\"\n\nKaladin snorted. \"I'll never be free of these brands, Tvlakv. You must know that I've tried-and failed-to escape ten times over. It's more than these glyphs on my head that makes your mercenaries wary.\"\n\n\"Past failure does not prove that there is not chance in the future, yes?\"\n\n\"I'm finished. I don't care.\" He eyed the slaver. \"Besides, you don't actually believe what you're saying. I doubt a manlike you would be able to sleep at night if he thought the slaves he sold would be free to seek him out one day.\"\n\nTvlakv laughed. \"Perhaps, deserter. Perhaps you are right. Or perhaps I simply think that if you were to get free, you would hunt down the first man who sold you to slavery, you see? Highlord Amaram, was it not? His death would give me warning so I can run.\"\n\nHow had he known? How had he heard about Amaram? I'll find him, Kaladin thought. I'll gut him with my own hands. I'll twist his head right off his neck, I'll-" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Yes,\" Tvlakv said, studying Kaladin's face, \"so you were not so honest when you said you do not thirst for vengeance." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I see.\"\n\n\"How do you know about Amaram?\" Kaladin said, scowling. \"I've changed hands a half-dozen times since then.\"\n\n\"Men talk. Slavers more than most. We must befriends with one another, you see, for nobody else will stomach us.\"\n\n\"Then you know that I didn't get this brand for deserting.\"\n\n\"Ah, but it is what we must pretend, you see? Men guilty of high crimes, they do not sell so well. With that shash glyph on your head, it will be difficult enough to get a good price for you. If I cannot sell you, then you... well, you will not wish for that status. So we will play a game together. I will say you area deserter. And you will say nothing. It is an easy game, I think.\"\n\n\"It's illegal.\"\n\n\"We are not in Alethkar,\" Tvlakv said, \"so there is no law. Besides, desertion was the official reason for your sale. Claim otherwise, and you will gain nothing but a reputation for dishonesty.\"\n\n\"Nothing besides a headache for you.\"\n\n\"But you just said you have no desire for vengeance against me.\"\n\n\"I could learn.\"\n\nTvlakv laughed. \"Ah, if you have not learned that already, then you probably never will! Besides, did you not threaten to throw me off a cliff? I think you have learned already. But now, we must discuss how to proceed. My map has met with an untimely demise, you see.\"\n\nKaladin hesitated, then sighed. \"I don't know,\" he said honestly. \"I've never been this way either.\"\n\nTvlakv frowned. He leaned closer to the cage, inspecting Kaladin, though he still kept his distance. After a moment, Tvlakv shook his head. \"I believe you, deserter. A pity. Well, I shall trust my memory. The map was poorly rendered anyway. I am almost glad you ripped it, for I was tempted to do the same myself. If I should happen across any portraits of my former wives, I shall see that they cross your path and take advantage of your unique talents.\" He strolled away." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kaladin watched him go, then cursed to himself.\n\n\"What was that for?\" the windspren said, walking up to him, head cocked.\n\n\"I almost find myself liking him,\" Kaladin said, pounding his head back against the cage.\n\n\"But... after what he did...\"\n\nKaladin shrugged. \"I didn't say Tvlakv isn't a bastard. He's just a likable bastard.\" He hesitated, then grimaced. \"Those are the worst kind. When you kill them, you end up feeling guilty for it.\"\n\nThe wagon leaked during highstorms. That wasn't surprising; Kaladin suspected that Tvlakv had been driven to slaving by ill fortune. He would rather be trading other goods, but something-lack of funds, a need to leave his previous environs with haste-had forced him to pickup this least reputable of careers.\n\nMen like him couldn't afford luxury, or even quality. They could barely stay ahead of their debts. In this case, that meant wagons which leaked. The boarded sides were strong enough to withstand highstorm winds, but they weren't comfortable.\n\nTvlakv had almost missed getting ready for this highstorm. Apparently, the map Kaladin had torn up had also included a list of highstorm dates purchased from a roving stormwarden. The storms could be predicted mathematically; Kaladin's father had made a hobby of it. He'd been able to pick the right day eight times out often.\n\nThe boards rattled against the cage's bars as wind buffeted the vehicle, shaking it, making it lurch it like a clumsy giant's plaything. The wood groaned and spurts of icy rainwater sprayed through cracks. Flashes of lightning leaked through as well, accompanied by thunder. That was the only light they got." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Occasionally, light would flash without the thunder. The slaves would groan in terror at this, thinking about the Stormfather, the shades of the Lost Radiants, or the Voidbringers-all of which were said to haunt the most violent highstorms. They huddled together on the far side of the wagon, sharing warmth. Kaladin left them to it, sitting alone with his back to the bars.\n\nKaladin didn't fear stories of things that walked the storms. In the army, he'd been forced to weather a highstorm or two beneath the lip of a protective stone overhang or other bit of impromptu shelter. Nobody liked to be out during a storm, but sometimes you couldn't avoid it. The things that walked the storms-perhaps even the Stormfather himself-weren't nearly so deadly as the rocks and branches cast up into the air. In fact, the storm's initial tempest of water and wind-the stormwall-was the most dangerous part. The longer one endured after that, the weaker the storm grew, until the trailing edge was nothing more than sprinkling rain.\n\nNo, he wasn't worried about Voidbringers looking for flesh to feast upon. He was worried that something would happen to Tvlakv. The slavemaster waited out the storm in a cramped wooden enclosure built into the bottom of his wagon. That was ostensibly the safest place in the caravan, but an unlucky twist of fate-a tempest-thrown boulder, the collapse of the wagon-could leave him dead. In that case, Kaladin could see Bluth and Tag running off, leaving everyone in their cages, wooden sides locked up. The slaves would die a slow death by starvation and dehydration, baking under the sun in these boxes.\n\nThe storm continued to blow, shaking the wagon. Those winds felt like live things at times. And who was to say they weren't? Were windspren attracted to gusts of wind, or were they the gusts of wind? The souls of the force that now wanted so badly to destroy Kaladin's wagon?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That force-sentient or not-failed. The wagons were chained to nearby boulders with their wheels locked. The blasts of wind grew more lethargic. Lightning stopped flashing, and the maddening drumming of rain became a quiet tapping instead. Only once during their journey had a wagon toppled during a highstorm. Both it and the slaves inside had survived with a few dents and bruises.\n\nThe wooden side to Kaladin's right shook suddenly, then fell open as Bluth undid its clasps. The mercenary wore his leather coat against the wet, streams of water falling from the brim of his hat as he exposed the bars-and the occupants-to the rain. It was cold, though not as piercingly so as during the height of the storm. It sprayed across Kaladin and the huddled slaves. Tvlakv always ordered the wagons uncovered before the rain stopped; he said it was the only way to wash away the slaves\" stink.\n\nBluth slid the wooden side into place beneath the wagon, then opened the other two sides. Only the wall at the front of the wagon-just behind the driver's seat-couldn't be brought down.\n\n\"Little early to betaking down the sides, Bluth,\" Kaladin said. It wasn't quite the riddens yet-the period near the end of a highstorm when the rain sprinkled softly. This rain was still heavy, the wind still gusting on occasion.\n\n\"The master wants you plenty clean today.\"\n\n\"Why?\" Kaladin asked, rising, water streaming from his ragged brown clothing.\n\nBluth ignored him. Perhaps we're nearing our destination, Kaladin thought as he scanned the landscape.\n\nOver the last few days, the hills had given way to uneven rock formations-places where weathering winds had left behind crumbling cliffs and jagged shapes. Grass grew up the rocky sides that saw the most sun, and other plants were plentiful in the shade. The time right after a highstorm was when the land was most alive. Rockbud polyps split and sent out their vines. Other kinds of vine crept from crevices, licking up water. Leaves unfolded from shrubs and trees. Cremlings of all kinds slithered through puddles, enjoying the banquet. Insects buzzed into the air; larger crustaceans-crabs and leggers-left their hiding places. The very rocks seemed to come to life." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kaladin noted a half-dozen windspren flitting overhead, their translucent forms chasing after-or perhaps cruising along with-the highstorm's last gusts. Tiny lights rose around the plants. Lifespren. They looked like motes of glowing green dust or swarms of tiny translucent insects.\n\nA legger-its hairlike spines lifted to the air to give warning of changes in the wind-climbed along the side of the cart, its long body lined with dozens of pairs of legs. That was familiar enough, but he'd never seen a legger with such a deep purple carapace. Where was Tvlakv taking the caravan? Those uncultivated hillsides were perfect for farming. You could spread stumpweight sap on them-mixed with lavis seeds-during seasons of weaker storms following the Weeping. In four months, you'd have polyps larger than a man's head growing all along the hill, ready to break open for the grain inside.\n\nThe chulls lumbered about, feasting on rockbuds, slugs, and smaller crustaceans that had appeared after the storm. Tag and Bluth quietly hitched the beasts to their harnesses as a grumpy-looking Tvlakv crawled out of his waterproof refuge. The slavemaster pulled on a cap and deep black cloak against the rain. He rarely came out until the storm had passed completely; he was very eager to get to their destination. Were they that close to the coast? That was one of the only places where they'd find cities in the Unclaimed Hills.\n\nWithin minutes, the wagons were rolling again across the uneven ground. Kaladin settled back as the sky cleared, the highstorm a smudge of blackness on the western horizon. The sun brought welcome warmth, and the slaves basked in the light, streams of water dripping from their clothing and running out the back of the rocking wagon." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Presently, a translucent ribbon of light zipped up to Kaladin." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He was coming to take the windspren's presence for granted. She had gone out during the storm, but she'd comeback. As always.\n\n\"I saw others of your kind,\" Kaladin said idly.\n\n\"Others?\" she asked, taking the form of a young woman. She began to step around him in the air, spinning occasionally, dancing to some unheard beat.\n\n\"Windspren,\" Kaladin said. \"Chasing after the storm. Are you certain you don't want to go with them?\"\n\nShe glanced westward, longingly. \"No,\" she finally said, continuing her dance. \"I like it here.\"\n\nKaladin shrugged. She'd ceased playing as many pranks as she once had, and so he'd stopped letting her presence annoy him.\n\n\"There are others near,\" she said. \"Others like you.\"\n\n\"Slaves?\"\n\n\"I don't know. People. Not the ones here. Other ones.\"\n\n\"Where?\"\n\nShe turned a translucent white finger, pointing eastward. \"There. Many of them. Lots and lots.\"\n\nKaladin stood up. He couldn't imagine that a spren had a good handle on how to measure distance and numbers. Yes... Kaladin squinted, studying the horizon. That's smoke. From chimneys? He caught a gust of it on the wind; if not for the rain, he'd probably have smelled it sooner.\n\nShould he care? It didn't matter where he was a slave; he'd still be a slave. He'd accepted this life. That was his way now. Don't care, don't bother.\n\nStill, he watched with curiosity as his wagon climbed the side of a hill and gave the slaves inside a good vantage of what was ahead. It wasn't a city. It was something grander, something larger. An enormous army encampment." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Great Father of Storms...\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kaladin whispered.\n\nTen masses of troops bivouacked in familiar Alethi patterns-circular, by company rank, with camp followers on the outskirts, mercenaries in a ring just inside them, citizen soldiers near the middle, lighteyed officers at the very center. They were camped in a series of enormous craterlike rock formations, only the sides were more irregular, more jagged. Like broken eggshells.\n\nKaladin had left an army much like this eight months ago, though Amaram's force had been much smaller. This one covered miles of stone, stretching far both north and south. A thousand banners bearing a thousand different family glyphpairs flapped proudly in the air. There were some tents-mainly on the outside of the armies-but most of the troops were housed in large stone barracks. That meant Soulcasters.\n\nThat encampment directly ahead of them flew a banner Kaladin had seen in books. Deep blue with white glyphs-khokh and linil, stylized and painted as a sword standing before a crown. House Kholin. The king's house.\n\nDaunted, Kaladin looked beyond the armies. The landscape to the east was as he'd heard it described in a dozen different stories detailing the king's campaign against the Parshendi betrayers. It was an enormous riven plain of rock-so wide he couldn't seethe other side-that was split and cut by sheer chasms, crevasses twenty or thirty feet wide. They were so deep that they disappeared into darkness and formed a jagged mosaic of uneven plateaus. Some large, others tiny. The expansive plain looked like a platter that had been broken, its pieces then reassembled with small gaps between the fragments.\n\n\"The Shattered Plains,\" Kaladin whispered.\n\n\"What?\" the windspren asked. \"What's wrong?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kaladin shook his head, bemused. \"I spent years trying to get to this place. It's what Tien wanted, in the end at least. To come here, fight in the king's army...\"\n\nAnd now Kaladin was here. Finally. Accidentally. He felt like laughing at the absurdity. I should have realized, he thought. I should have known. We weren't ever heading toward the coast and its cities. We were heading here. To war.\n\nThis place would be subject to Alethi law and rules. He'd expected that Tvlakv would want to avoid such things. But here, he'd probably also find the best prices.\n\n\"The Shattered Plains?\" one of the slaves said. \"Really?\"\n\nOthers crowded around, peering out. In their sudden excitement, they seemed to forget their fear of Kaladin.\n\n\"It is the Shattered Plains!\" another man said. \"That's the king's army!\"\n\n\"Perhaps we'll find justice here,\" another said.\n\n\"I hear the king's household servants live as well as the finest merchants,\" said another. \"His slaves have to be better off too. We'll be in Vorin lands; we'll even make wages!\"\n\nThat much was true. When worked, slaves had to be paid a small wage-half what a nonslave would be paid, which was already often less than a full citizen would make for the same work. But it was something, and Alethi law required it. Only ardents-who couldn't own anything anyway-didn't have to be paid. Well, them and parshmen. But parshmen were more animal than anything else.\n\nA slave could apply his earnings to his slave debt and, after years of labor, earn his freedom. Theoretically. The others continued to chatter as the wagons rolled down the incline, but Kaladin withdrew to the back of the wagon. He suspected that the option to payoff a slave's price was a sham, intended to keep slaves docile. The debt was enormous, far more than a slave sold for, and virtually impossible to earn out." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Under previous masters, he'd demanded his wages be given to him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They had always found ways to cheat him-charging him for his housing, his food. That's how lighteyes were. Roshone, Amaram, Katarotam... Each lighteyes Kaladin had known, whether as a slave or a freeman, had shown himself to be corrupt to the core, for all his outward poise and beauty. They were like rotting corpses clothed in beautiful silk.\n\nThe other slaves kept talking about the king's army, and about justice. Justice? Kaladin thought, resting back against the bars. I'm not convinced there is such a thing as justice. Still, he found himself wondering. That was the king's army-the armies of all ten highprinces-come to fulfill the Vengeance Pact.\n\nIf there was one thing he still let himself long for, it was the chance to hold a spear. To fight again, to try and find his way back to the man he had been. A man who had cared.\n\nIf he would find that anywhere, he'd find it here." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Shallan had not expected Jasnah Kholin to be so beautiful.\n\nIt was a stately, mature beauty-as one might find in the portrait of some historical scholar. Shallan realized that she'd naively been expecting Jasnah to bean ugly spinster, like the stern matrons who had tutored her years ago. How else could one picture a heretic well into her mid-thirties and still unmarried?\n\nJasnah was nothing like that. She was tall and slender, with clear skin, narrow black eyebrows, and thick, deep onyx hair. She wore part of it up, wrapped around a small, scroll-shaped golden ornament with two long hairpins holding it in place. The rest tumbled down behind her neck in small, tight curls. Even twisted and curled as it was, it came down to Jasnah's shoulders-if left unbound, it would be as long as Shallan's hair, reaching past the middle of her back.\n\nShe had a squarish face and discriminating pale violet eyes. She was listening to a man dressed in robes of burnt orange and white, the Kharbranthian royal colors. Brightness Kholin was several fingers taller than the man-apparently, the Alethi reputation for height was no exaggeration. Jasnah glanced at Shallan, noting her, then returned to her conversation.\n\nStormfather! This woman was the sister of a king. Reserved, statuesque, dressed immaculately in blue and silver. Like Shallan's dress, Jasnah's buttoned up the sides and had a high collar, though Jasnah had a much fuller chest than Shallan. The skirts were loose below the waist, falling generously to the floor. Her sleeves were long and stately, and the left one was buttoned up to hide her safehand." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "On her freehand was a distinctive piece of jewelry: two rings and a bracelet connected by several chains, holding a triangular group of gemstones across the back of the hand. A Soulcaster-the word was used for both the people who performed the process and the fabrial that made it possible.\n\nShallan edged into the room, trying to get a better look at the large, glowing gemstones. Her heart began to beat a little faster. The Soulcaster looked identical to the one she and her brothers had found in the inside pocket of her father's coat.\n\nJasnah and the man in robes began walking in Shallan's direction, still talking. How would Jasnah react, now that her ward had finally caught up to her? Would she be angry because of Shallan's tardiness? Shallan couldn't be blamed for that, but people often expect irrational things from their inferiors.\n\nLike the grand cavern outside, this hallway was cut from the rock, but it was more richly furbished, with ornate hanging chandeliers made with Stormlit gemstones. Most were deep violet garnets, which were among the less valuable stones. Even so, the sheer number hanging there glistening with violet light would make the chandelier worth a small fortune. More than that, however, Shallan was impressed with the symmetry of the design and the beauty of the pattern of crystals hanging at the sides of the chandelier.\n\nAs Jasnah grew near, Shallan could hear some of what she was saying.\n\n\"... realize that this action might prompt an unfavorable reaction from the devotaries?\" the woman said, speaking in Alethi. It was very near to Shallan's native Veden, and she'd been taught to speak it well during her childhood." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yes, Brightness,\" said the robed man. He was elderly, with a wispy white beard, and had pale grey eyes. His open, kindly face seemed very concerned, and he wore a squat, cylindrical hat that matched the orange and white of his robes. Rich robes. Was this some kind of royal steward, perhaps?\n\nNo. Those gemstones on his fingers, the way he carried himself, the way other lighteyed attendants deferred to him... Stormfather! Shallan thought. This has to be the king himself! Not Jasnah's brother, Elhokar, but the king of Kharbranth. Taravangian.\n\nShallan hastily performed an appropriate curtsy, which Jasnah noted.\n\n\"The ardents have much sway here, Your Majesty,\" Jasnah said with a smooth voice.\n\n\"As do I,\" the king said. \"You needn't worry about me.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" Jasnah said. \"Your terms are agreeable. Lead me to the location, and I shall see what can be done. If you will excuse meas we walk, however, I have someone to attend to.\" Jasnah made a curt motion toward Shallan, waving her to join them.\n\n\"Of course, Brightness,\" the king said. He seemed to defer to Jasnah. Kharbranth was a very small kingdom-just a single city-while Alethkar was one of the world's most powerful. An Alethi princess might well outrank a Kharbranthian king in real terms, however protocol would have it.\n\nShallan hurried to catch up to Jasnah, who walked a little behind the king as he began to speak to his attendants. \"Brightness,\" Shallan said. \"I am Shallan Davar, whom you asked to meet you. I deeply regret not being able to get to you in Dumadari.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The fault was not yours,\" Jasnah said with a wave of the fingers. \"I didn't expect that you would make it in time. I wasn't certain where I would be going after Dumadari when I sent you that note, however.\"\n\nJasnah wasn't angry; that was a good sign. Shallan felt some of her anxiety recede.\n\n\"I am impressed by your tenacity, child,\" Jasnah continued. \"I honestly didn't expect you to follow me this far. After Kharbranth, I was going to forgo leaving you notes, as I'd presumed that you'd have given up. Most do so after the first few stops.\"\n\nMost? Then it was a test of some sort? And Shallan had passed?\n\n\"Yes indeed,\" Jasnah continued, voice musing. \"Perhaps I will actually allow you to petition me fora place as my ward.\"\n\nShallan almost stumbled in shock. Petition her? Wasn't that what she'd already done? \"Brightness,\" Shallan said, \"I thought that... Well, your letter...\"\n\nJasnah eyed her. \"I gave you leave to meet me, Miss Davar. I did not promise to take you on. The training and care of award is a distraction for which I have little tolerance or time at the present. But you have traveled far. I will entertain your request, though understand that my requirements are strict.\"\n\nShallan covered a grimace.\n\n\"No tantrum,\" Jasnah noted. \"That is a good sign.\"\n\n\"Tantrum, Brightness? From a lighteyed woman?\"\n\n\"You'd be surprised,\" Jasnah said dryly. \"But attitude alone will not earn your place. Tell me, how extensive is your education?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Extensive in some areas,\" Shallan said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then she hesitantly added, \"Extensively lacking in others.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" Jasnah said. Ahead, the king seemed to be in a hurry, but he was old enough that even an urgent walk was still slow. \"Then we shall do an evaluation. Answer truthfully and do not exaggerate, as I will soon discover your lies. Feign no false modesty, either. I haven't the patience fora simperer.\"\n\n\"Yes, Brightness.\"\n\n\"We shall begin with music. How would you judge your skill?\"\n\n\"I have a good ear, Brightness,\" Shallan said honestly. \"I'm best with voice, though I have been trained on the zither and the pipes. I would be far from the best you'd heard, but I'd also be far from the worst. I know most historical ballads by heart.\"\n\n\"Give me the refrain from \"Lilting Adrene.\"\"\n\n\"Here?\"\n\n\"I'm not fond of repeating myself, child.\"\n\nShallan blushed, but began to sing. It wasn't her finest performance, but her tone was pure and she didn't stumble over any of the words.\n\n\"Good,\" Jasnah said as Shallan paused fora breath. \"Languages?\"\n\nShallan fumbled fora moment, bringing her attention away from frantically trying to remember the next verse. Languages? \"I can speak your native Alethi, obviously,\" Shallan said. \"I have a passable reading knowledge of Thaylen and good spoken Azish. I can make myself understood in Selay, but not read it.\"\n\nJasnah made no comment either way. Shallan began to grow nervous.\n\n\"Writing?\" Jasnah asked." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I know all of the major, minor, and topical glyphs and can paint them calligraphically.\"\n\n\"So can most children.\"\n\n\"The glyphwards that I paint are regarded by those who know meas quite impressive.\"\n\n\"Glyphwards?\" Jasnah said. \"I had reason to believe you wanted to be a scholar, not a purveyor of superstitious nonsense.\"\n\n\"I have kept a journal since I was a child,\" Shallan continued, \"in order to practice my writing skills.\"\n\n\"Congratulations,\" Jasnah said. \"Should I need someone to write a treatise on their stuffed pony or give an account of an interesting pebble they discovered, I shall send for you. Is there nothing you can offer that shows you have true skill?\"\n\nShallan blushed. \"With all due respect, Brightness, you have a letter from me yourself, and it was persuasive enough to make you grant me this audience.\"\n\n\"A valid point,\" Jasnah said, nodding. \"It took you long enough to make it. How is your training in logic and its related arts?\"\n\n\"I am accomplished in basic mathematics,\" Shallan said, still flustered, \"and I often helped with minor accounts for my father. I have read through the complete works of Tormas, Nashan, Niali the Just, and-of course-Nohadon.\"\n\n\"Placini?\"\n\nWho? \"No.\"\n\n\"Gabrathin, Yustara, Manaline, Syasikk, Shauka-daughter-Hasweth?\"\n\nShallan cringed and shook her head again. That last name was obviously Shin. Did the Shin people even have logicmasters? Did Jasnah really expect her wards to have studied such obscure texts?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I see,\" Jasnah said. \"Well, what of history?\"\n\nHistory. Shallan shrank down even further. \"I... This is one of the areas where I'm obviously deficient, Brightness. My father was never able to find a suitable tutor for me. I read the history books he owned....\"\n\n\"Which were?\"\n\n\"The entire set of Barlesha Lhan's Topics, mostly.\"\n\nJasnah waved her freehand dismissively. \"Barely worth the time spent scribing them. A popular survey of historical events at best.\"\n\n\"I apologize, Brightness.\"\n\n\"This is an embarrassing hole. History is the most important of the literary subarts. One would think that your parents would have taken specific care in this area, if they'd hoped to submit you to study under a historian like myself.\"\n\n\"My circumstances are unusual, Brightness.\"\n\n\"Ignorance is hardly unusual, Miss Davar. The longer I live, the more I come to realize that it is the natural state of the human mind. There are many who will strive to defend its sanctity and then expect you to be impressed with their efforts.\"\n\nShallan blushed again. She'd realized she had some deficiencies, but Jasnah had unreasonable expectations. She said nothing, continuing to walk beside the taller woman. How long was this hallway, anyway? She was so flustered she didn't even look at the paintings they passed. They turned a corner, walking deeper into the mountainside.\n\n\"Well, let us move onto science, then,\" Jasnah said, tone displeased. \"What can you say of yourself there?\"\n\n\"I have the reasonable foundation in the sciences you might expect of a young woman my age,\" Shallan said, more stiffly than she would have liked." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Which means?\"\n\n\"I can speak with skill about geography, geology, physics, and chemistry. I've made particular study of biology and botany, as I was able to pursue them with a reasonable level of independence on my father's estates. But if you expect me to be able to solve Fabrisan's Conundrum with a wave of my hand, I suspect you shall be disappointed.\"\n\n\"Have I not aright to make reasonable demands of my potential students, Miss Davar?\"\n\n\"Reasonable? Your demands are about as reasonable as the ones made of the Ten Heralds on Proving Day! With all due respect, Brightness, you seem to want potential wards to be master scholars already. I maybe able to find a pair of eighty-year-old ardents in the city who might fit your requirements. They could interview for the position, though they may have trouble hearing well enough to answer your questions.\"\n\n\"I see,\" Jasnah replied. \"And do you speak with such pique to your parents as well?\"\n\nShallan winced. Her time spent with the sailors had loosened her tongue far too much. Had she traveled all this way only to offend Jasnah? She thought of her brothers, destitute, keeping up a tenuous façade back home. Would she have to return to them in defeat, having squandered this opportunity? \"I did not speak to them this way, Brightness. Nor should Ito you. I apologize.\"\n\n\"Well, at least you are humble enough to admit fault. Still, I am disappointed. How is it that your mother considered you ready fora wardship?\"\n\n\"My mother passed away when I was just a child, Brightness.\"\n\n\"And your father soon remarried. Malise Gevelmar, I believe.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Shallan started at her knowledge." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "House Davar was ancient, but only of middling power and importance. The fact that Jasnah knew the name of Shallan's stepmother said a lot about her. \"My stepmother passed away recently. She didn't send me to be your ward. I took this initiative upon myself.\"\n\n\"My condolences,\" Jasnah said. \"Perhaps you should be with your father, seeing to his estates and comforting him, rather than wasting my time.\"\n\nThe men walking ahead turned down another side passage. Jasnah and Shallan followed, entering a smaller corridor with an ornate red and yellow rug, mirrors hanging on the walls.\n\nShallan turned to Jasnah. \"My father has no need of me.\" Well, that was true. \"But I have great need of you, as this interview itself has proven. If ignorance galls you so much, can you in good conscience pass up the opportunity to rid me of mine?\"\n\n\"I've done so before, Miss Davar. You are the twelfth young woman to ask me fora wardship this year.\"\n\nTwelve? Shallan thought. In one year? And she'd assumed that women would stay away from Jasnah because of her antagonism toward the devotaries.\n\nThe group reached the end of the narrow hallway, turning a corner to find-to Shallan's surprise-a place where a large chunk of rock had fallen from the ceiling. A dozen or so attendants stood here, some looking anxious. What was going on?\n\nMuch of the rubble had evidently been cleared away, though the gouge in the ceiling gaped ominously. It didn't lookout on the sky; they had been progressing downward, and were probably far underground. A massive stone, taller than a man, had fallen into a doorway on the left. There was no getting past it into the room beyond. Shallan thought she heard sounds on the other side. The king stepped up to the stone, speaking in a comforting voice. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his aged brow." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The dangers of living in a building cut directly into the rock,\" Jasnah said, striding forward. \"When did this happen?\" Apparently she hadn't been summoned to the city specifically for this purpose; the king was simply taking advantage of her presence.\n\n\"During the recent highstorm, Brightness,\" the king said. He shook his head, making his drooping, thin white mustache tremble. \"The palace architects might be able to cut away into the room, but it would take time, and the next highstorm is scheduled to hit in just a few days. Beyond that, breaking in might bring down more of the ceiling.\"\n\n\"I thought Kharbranth was protected from the highstorms, Your Majesty,\" Shallan said, causing Jasnah to shoot her a glance.\n\n\"The city is sheltered, young woman,\" the king said. \"But the stone mountain behind us is buffeted quite strongly. Sometimes it causes avalanches on that side, and that can cause the entire mountainside to shake.\" He glanced at the ceiling. \"Cave-ins are very rare, and we thought this area was quite safe, but...\"\n\n\"But it is rock,\" Jasnah said, \"and there is no telling if a weak vein lurks just beyond the surface.\" She inspected the monolith that had fallen from the ceiling. \"This will be difficult. I will probably lose a very valuable focal stone.\"\n\n\"I-\" the king began, wiping his brow again. \"If only we had a Shardblade-\"\n\nJasnah cut him off with a wave of the hand. \"I was not seeking to renegotiate our bargain, Your Majesty. Access to the Palanaeum is worth the cost. You will want to send someone for wet rags. Have the majority of the servants move down to the other end of the hallway. You may wish to wait there yourself.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I will stay here,\" the king said, causing his attendants to object, including a large man wearing a black leather cuirass, probably his bodyguard. The king silenced them by raising his wrinkled hand. \"I will not hide like a coward when my granddaughter is trapped.\"\n\nNo wonder he was so anxious. Jasnah didn't argue further, and Shallan could see from her eyes that it was of no consequence to her if the king risked his life. The same apparently went for Shallan, for Jasnah didn't order her away. Servants approached with wetted cloths and distributed them. Jasnah refused hers. The king and his bodyguard raised theirs to their faces, covering mouth and nose.\n\nShallan took hers. What was the point of it? A couple of servants passed some wet cloths through a space between the rock and the wall to those inside. Then all of the servants rushed away down the hallway.\n\nJasnah picked and prodded at the boulder. \"Miss Davar,\" she said, \"what method would you use to ascertain the mass of this stone?\"\n\nShallan blinked. \"Well, I suppose I'd ask His Majesty. His architects probably calculated it.\"\n\nJasnah cocked her head. \"An elegant response. Did they do that, Your Majesty?\"\n\n\"Yes, Brightness Kholin,\" the king said. \"It's roughly fifteen thousand kavals.\"\n\nJasnah eyed Shallan. \"A point in your favor, Miss Davar. A scholar knows not to waste time rediscovering information already known. It's a lesson I sometimes forget.\"\n\nShallan felt herself swell at the words. She already had an inkling that Jasnah did not give such praise lightly. Did this mean that the woman was still considering her as award?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Jasnah held up her freehand, Soulcaster glistening against the skin." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Shallan felt her heartbeat speedup. She'd never seen Soulcasting done in person. The ardents were very secretive in using their fabrials, and she hadn't even known that her father had one until they'd found it on him. Of course, his no longer worked. That was one of the main reasons she was here.\n\nThe gemstones set into Jasnah's Soulcaster were enormous, some of the largest that Shallan had ever seen, worth many spheres each. One was smokestone, a pure glassy black gemstone. The second was a diamond. The third was a ruby. All three were cut-a cut stone could hold more Stormlight-into glistening, many-faceted oval shapes.\n\nJasnah closed her eyes, pressing her hand against the fallen boulder. She raised her head, inhaling slowly. The stones on the back of her hand began to glow more fiercely, the smokestone in particular growing so bright it was difficult to look at.\n\nShallan held her breath. The only thing she dared do was blink, committing the scene to memory. Fora long, extended moment, nothing happened.\n\nAnd then, briefly, Shallan heard a sound. A low thrumming, like a distant group of voices, humming together a single, pure note.\n\nJasnah's hand sank into the rock.\n\nThe stone vanished.\n\nA burst of dense black smoke exploded into the hallway. Enough to blind Shallan; it seemed the output of a thousand fires, and smelled of burned wood. Shallan hastily raised the wet rag to her face, dropping to her knees. Oddly, her ears felt stopped up, as if she'd climbed down from a great height. She had to swallow to pop them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "She shut her eyes tightly as they began to water, and she held her breath." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her ears filled with a rushing sound.\n\nIt passed. She blinked open her eyes to find the king and his bodyguard huddled against the wall beside to her. Smoke still pooled at the ceiling; the hallway smelled strongly of it. Jasnah stood, eyes still closed, oblivious of the smoke-though grime now dusted her face and clothing. It had left marks on the walls too.\n\nShallan had read of this, but she was still in awe. Jasnah had transformed the boulder into smoke, and since smoke was far less dense than stone, the change had pushed the smoke away in an explosive outburst.\n\nIt was true; Jasnah really did have a functioning Soulcaster. And a powerful one too. Nine out often Soulcasters were capable of a few limited transformations: creating water or grain from stone; forming bland, single-roomed rock buildings out of air or cloth. A greater one, like Jasnah's, could effectuate any transformation. Literally turn any substance into any other one. How it must grate on the ardents that such a powerful, holy relic was in the hands of someone outside the ardentia. And a heretic no less!\n\nShallan stumbled to her feet, leaving the cloth at her mouth, breathing humid but dust-free air. She swallowed, her ears popping again as the hall's pressure returned to normal. A moment later, the king rushed into the now-accessible room. A small girl-along with several nursemaids and other palace servants-sat on the other side, coughing. The king pulled the girl into his arms. She was too young to have a modesty sleeve.\n\nJasnah opened her eyes, blinking, as if momentarily confused by her location. She took a deep breath, and didn't cough. Indeed, she actually smiled, as if enjoying the scent of the smoke." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jasnah turned to Shallan, focusing on her. \"You are still waiting fora response. I'm afraid you will not like what I say.\"\n\n\"But you haven't finished your testing of me yet,\" Shallan said, forcing herself to be bold. \"Surely you won't give judgment until you have.\"\n\n\"I haven't finished?\" Jasnah asked, frowning.\n\n\"You didn't ask me about all of the feminine arts. You left out painting and drawing.\"\n\n\"I have never had much use for them.\"\n\n\"But they are of the arts,\" Shallan said, feeling desperate. This was where she was most accomplished! \"Many consider the visual arts the most refined of them all. I brought my portfolio. I would show you what I can do.\"\n\nJasnah pursed her lips. \"The visual arts are frivolity. I have weighed the facts, child, and I cannot accept you. I'm sorry.\"\n\nShallan's heart sank.\n\n\"Your Majesty,\" Jasnah said to the king, \"I would like to go to the Palanaeum.\"\n\n\"Now?\" the king said, cradling his granddaughter. \"But we are going to have a feast-\"\n\n\"I appreciate the offer,\" Jasnah said, \"but I find myself with an abundance of everything but time.\"\n\n\"Of course,\" the king said. \"I will take you personally. Thank you for what you've done. When I heard that you had requested entrance...\" He continued to babble at Jasnah, who followed him wordlessly down the hallway, leaving Shallan behind.\n\nShe clutched her satchel to her chest, lowering the cloth from her mouth. Six months of chasing, for this. She gripped the rag in frustration, squeezing sooty water between her fingers. She wanted to cry. That was what she probably would have done if she'd been that same child she had been six months ago." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But things had changed. She had changed. If she failed, House Davar would fall. Shallan felt her determination redouble, though she wasn't able to stop a few tears of frustration from squeezing out of the corners of her eyes. She was not going to give up until Jasnah was forced to truss her up in chains and have the authorities drag her away.\n\nHer step surprisingly firm, she walked in the direction Jasnah had gone. Six months ago, she had explained a desperate plan to her brothers. She would apprentice herself to Jasnah Kholin, scholar, heretic. Not for the education. Not for the prestige. But in order to learn where she kept her Soulcaster.\n\nAnd then Shallan would steal it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Tvlakv released all of the slaves from their cages at once. This time, he didn't fear runaways or a slave rebellion-not with nothing but wilderness behind them and over a hundred thousand armed soldiers just ahead.\n\nKaladin stepped down from the wagon. They were inside one of the craterlike formations, its jagged stonewall rising just to the east. The ground had been cleared of plant life, and the rock was slick beneath his unshod feet. Pools of rainwater had gathered in depressions. The air was crisp and clean, and the sun strong overhead, though with this Eastern humidity, he always felt damp.\n\nAround them spread the signs of an army long settled; this war had been going on since the old king's death, nearly six years ago. Everyone told stories of that night, the night when Parshendi tribesmen had murdered King Gavilar.\n\nSquads of soldiers marched by, following directions indicated by painted circles at each intersection. The camp was packed with long stone bunkers, and there were more tents than Kaladin had discerned from above. Soulcasters couldn't be used to create every shelter. After the stink of the slave caravan, the place smelled good, brimming with familiar scents like treated leather and oiled weapons. However, many of the soldiers had a disorderly look. They weren't dirty, but they didn't seem particularly disciplined either. They roamed the camp in packs with coats undone. Some pointed and jeered at the slaves. This was the army of a highprince? The elite force that fought for Alethkar's honor? This was what Kaladin had aspired to join?\n\nBluth and Tag watched carefully as Kaladin lined up with the other slaves, but he didn't try anything. Now was not the time to provoke them-Kaladin had seen how mercenaries acted when around commissioned troops. Bluth and Tag played their part, walking with their chests out and hands on their weapons. They shoved a few of the slaves into place, ramming a cudgel into one man's belly and cursing him gruffly." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They stayed clear of Kaladin.\n\n\"The king's army,\" said the slave next to him. It was the dark-skinned man who had talked to Kaladin about escaping. \"I thought we were meant for mine work. Why, this won't be so bad at all. We'll be cleaning latrines or maintaining roads.\"\n\nOdd, to look forward to latrine work or labor in the hot sun. Kaladin hoped for something else. Hoped. Yes, he'd discovered that he could still hope. A spear in his hands. An enemy to face. He could live like that.\n\nTvlakv spoke with an important-looking lighteyed woman. She wore her dark hair up in a complex weave, sparkling with infused amethysts, and her dress was a deep crimson. She looked much as Laral had, at the end. She was probably of the fourth or fifth dahn, wife and scribe to one of the camp's officers.\n\nTvlakv began to brag about his wares, but the woman raised a delicate hand. \"I can see what I am purchasing, slaver,\" she said in a smooth, aristocratic accent. \"I will inspect them myself.\"\n\nShe began to walk down the line, accompanied by several soldiers. Her dress was cut in the Alethi noble fashion-a solid swath of silk, tight and formfitting through the top with sleek skirts below. It buttoned up the sides of the torso from waist to neck, where it was topped by a small, gold-embroidered collar. The longer left cuff hid her safehand. Kaladin's mother had always just worn a glove, which seemed far more practical to him.\n\nJudging by her face, she was not particularly impressed with what she saw. \"These men are half-starved and sickly,\" she said, taking a thin rod from a young female attendant. She used it to lift the hair from one man's forehead, inspecting his brand. \"You are asking two emerald broams ahead?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Tvlakv began to sweat. \"Perhaps one and a half?\"\n\n\"And what would I use them for? I wouldn't trust men this filthy near food, and we have parshmen to do most other work.\"\n\n\"If Your Ladyship is not pleased, I could approach other highprinces....\"\n\n\"No,\" she said, smacking the slave she'd been regarding as he shied away from her. \"One and a quarter. They can help cut timber for us in the northern forests....\" She trailed off as she noticed Kaladin. \"Here now. This is far better stock than the others.\"\n\n\"I thought that you might like this one,\" Tvlakv said, stepping up to her. \"He is quite-\"\n\nShe raised the rod and silenced Tvlakv. She had a small sore on one lip. Some ground cussweed root could help with that.\n\n\"Remove your top, slave,\" she commanded.\n\nKaladin stared her right in her blue eyes and felt an almost irresistible urge to spit at her. No. No, he couldn't afford that. Not when there was a chance. He pulled his arms out of the sacklike clothing, letting it fall to his waist, exposing his chest.\n\nDespite eight months as a slave, he was far better muscled than the others. \"A large number of scars for one so young,\" the noblewoman said thoughtfully. \"You area military man?\"\n\n\"Yes.\" His windspren zipped up to the woman, inspecting her face.\n\n\"Mercenary?\"\n\n\"Amaram's army,\" Kaladin said. \"A citizen, second nahn.\"\n\n\"Once a citizen,\" Tvlakv put in quickly. \"He was-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "She silenced Tvlakv again with her rod, glaring at him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Then she used the rod to push aside Kaladin's hair and inspect his forehead.\n\n\"Shash glyph,\" she said, clicking her tongue. Several of the soldiers nearby stepped closer, hands on their swords. \"Where I come from, slaves who deserve these are simply executed.\"\n\n\"They are fortunate,\" Kaladin said.\n\n\"And how did you end up here?\"\n\n\"I killed someone,\" Kaladin said, preparing his lies carefully. Please, he thought to the Heralds. Please. It had been along time since he had prayed for anything.\n\nThe woman raised an eyebrow.\n\n\"I'm a murderer, Brightness,\" Kaladin said. \"Got drunk, made some mistakes. But I can use a spear as well as any man. Put me in your brightlord's army. Let me fight again.\" It was a strange lie to make, but the woman would never let Kaladin fight if she thought he was a deserter. In this case, better to be known as an accidental murderer.\n\nPlease... he thought. To be a soldier again. It seemed, in one moment, the most glorious thing he could ever have wanted. How much better it would be to die on the battlefield than waste away emptying chamber pots.\n\nTo the side, Tvlakv stepped up beside the lighteyed woman. He glanced at Kaladin, then sighed. \"He's a deserter, Brightness. Don't listen to him.\"\n\nNo! Kaladin felt a blazing burst of anger consume his hope. He raised hands toward Tvlakv. He'd strangle the rat, and-\n\nSomething cracked him across the back. He grunted, stumbling and falling to one knee. The noblewoman stepped back, raising her safehand to her breast in alarm. One of the army soldiers grabbed Kaladin and towed him back to his feet." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Well,\" she finally said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That is unfortunate.\"\n\n\"I can fight,\" Kaladin growled against the pain. \"Give me a spear. Let me-\"\n\nShe raised her rod, cutting him off.\n\n\"Brightness,\" Tvlakv said, not meeting Kaladin's eyes. \"I would not trust him with a weapon. It is true that he is a murderer, but he is also known to disobey and lead rebellions against his masters. I couldn't sell him to you as a bonded soldier. My conscience, it would not allow it.\" He hesitated. \"The men in his wagon, he might have corrupted them all with talk of escape. My honor demands that I tell you this.\"\n\nKaladin gritted his teeth. He was tempted to try to take down the soldier behind him, grab that spear and spend his last moments ramming it through Tvlakv's portly gut. Why? What did it matter to Tvlakv how Kaladin was treated by this army?\n\nI should never have ripped up the map, Kaladin though. Bitterness is repaid more often than kindness. One of his father's sayings.\n\nThe woman nodded, moving on. \"Show me which ones,\" she said. \"I'll still take them, because of your honesty. We need some new bridgemen.\"\n\nTvlakv nodded eagerly. Before moving on, he paused and leaned into Kaladin. \"I cannot trust that you will behave. The people in this army, they will blame a merchant for not revealing all he knew. I... am sorry.\" With that, the merchant scuttled away.\n\nKaladin growled in the back of his throat, and then pulled himself free of the soldiers, but remained inline. So be it. Cutting down trees, building bridges, fighting in the army. None of it mattered. He would just keep living. They'd taken his freedom, his family, his friends, and-most dear of all-his dreams. They could do nothing more to him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After her inspection, the noblewoman took a writing board from her assistant and made a few quick notations on its paper. Tvlakv gave her a ledger detailing how much each slave had paid down on their slave debt. Kaladin caught a glimpse; it said that not a single one of the men had paid anything. Perhaps Tvlakv lied about the figures. Not unlikely.\n\nKaladin would probably just let all of his wages go to his debt this time. Let them squirm as they saw him actually call their bluff. What would they do if he got close to earning out his debt? He'd probably never find out-depending on what these bridgemen earned, it could take anything from ten to fifty years to get there.\n\nThe lighteyed woman assigned most of the slaves to forest duty. A half-dozen of the more spindly ones were sent to work the mess halls, despite what she'd said before. \"Those ten,\" the noblewoman said, raising her rod to point at Kaladin and the others from his wagon. \"Take them to the bridge crews. Tell Lamaril and Gaz that the tall one is to be given special treatment.\"\n\nThe soldiers laughed, and one began shoving Kaladin's group along the pathway. Kaladin endured it; these men had no reason to be gentle, and he wouldn't give them a reason to be rougher. If there was a group citizen soldiers hated more than mercenaries, it was deserters.\n\nAshe walked, he couldn't help noticing the banner flying above the camp. It bore the same symbol emblazoned on the soldiers\" uniform coats: a yellow glyphpair in the shape of a tower and a hammer on afield of deep green. That was the banner of Highprince Sadeas, ultimate ruler of Kaladin's own home district. Was it irony or fate that had landed Kaladin here?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Soldiers lounged idly, even those who appeared to be on duty, and the camp streets were littered with refuse. Camp followers were plentiful: whores, worker women, coopers, chandlers, and wranglers. There were even children running through the streets of what was half city, half warcamp.\n\nThere were also parshmen. Carrying water, working on trenches, lifting sacks. That surprised him. Weren't they fighting parshmen? Weren't they worried that these would rise up? Apparently not. The parshmen here worked with the same docility as the ones back in Hearthstone. Perhaps it made sense. Alethi had fought against Alethi back in his armies at home, so why shouldn't there be parshmen on both sides of this conflict?\n\nThe soldiers took Kaladin all the way around to the northeastern quarter of the camp, a hike that took sometime. Though the Soulcast stone barracks each looked exactly the same, the rim of the camp was broken distinctively, like ragged mountains. Old habits made him memorize the route. Here, the towering circular wall had been worn away by countless highstorms, giving a clear view eastward. That open patch of ground would make a good staging area for an army to gather on before marching down the incline to the Shattered Plains themselves.\n\nThe northern edge of the field contained a subcamp filled with several dozen barracks, and at their center a lumberyard filled with carpenters. They were breaking down some of the stout trees Kaladin had seen on the plains outside: stripping off their stringy bark, sawing them into planks. Another group of carpenters assembled the planks into large contraptions.\n\n\"We're to be woodworkers?\" Kaladin asked." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "One of the soldiers laughed roughly. \"You're joining the bridge crews.\" He pointed to where a group of sorry-looking men sat on the stones in the shade of a barrack, scooping food out of wooden bowls with their fingers. It looked depressingly similar to the slop that Tvlakv had fed them.\n\nOne of the soldiers shoved Kaladin forward again, and he stumbled down the shallow incline and crossed the grounds. The other nine slaves followed, herded by the soldiers. None of the men sitting around the barracks so much as glanced at them. They wore leather vests and simple trousers, some with dirty laced shirts, others bare-chested. The grim, sorry lot weren't much better than the slaves, though they did look to be in slightly better physical condition.\n\n\"New recruits, Gaz,\" one of the soldiers called.\n\nA man lounged in the shade a distance from the eating men. He turned, revealing a face that was so scarred his beard grew in patches. He was missing one eye-the other was brown-and didn't bother with an eye patch. White knots at his shoulders marked him as a sergeant, and he had the lean toughness Kaladin had learned to associate with someone who knew his way around a battlefield.\n\n\"These spindly things?\" Gaz said, chewing on something as he walked over. \"They'll barely stop an arrow.\"\n\nThe soldier beside Kaladin shrugged, shoving him forward once more for good measure. \"Brightness Hashal said to do something special with this one. The rest are up to you.\" The soldier nodded to his companions, and they began to trot away.\n\nGaz looked the slaves over. He focused on Kaladin last.\n\n\"I have military training,\" Kaladin said. \"In the army of Highlord Amaram.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I don't really care,\" Gaz cut in, spitting something dark to the side.\n\nKaladin hesitated. \"When Amaram-\"\n\n\"You keep mentioning that name,\" Gaz snapped. \"Served under some unimportant landlord, did you? Expect me to be impressed?\"\n\nKaladin sighed. He'd met this kind of man before, a lesser sergeant with no hope of advancement. His only pleasure in life came from his authority over those even sorrier than himself. Well, so be it.\n\n\"You have a slave's mark,\" Gaz said, snorting. \"I doubt you ever held a spear. Either way, you'll have to condescend to join us now, Lordship.\"\n\nKaladin's windspren flitted down and inspected Gaz, then closed one of her eyes, imitating him. For some reason, seeing her made Kaladin smile. Gaz misinterpreted the smile. The man scowled and stepped forward, pointing.\n\nAt that moment, aloud chorus of horns echoed through the camp. Carpenters glanced up, and the soldiers who had guided Kaladin dashed back toward the center of camp. The slaves behind Kaladin looked around anxiously.\n\n\"Stormfather!\" Gaz cursed. \"Bridgemen! Up, up, you louts!\" He began kicking at some of the men who were eating. They scattered their bowls, scrambling to their feet. They wore simple sandals instead of proper boots.\n\n\"You, Lordship,\" Gaz said, pointing at Kaladin.\n\n\"I didn't say-\"\n\n\"I don't care what in Damnation you said! You're in Bridge Four.\" He pointed at a group of departing bridgemen. \"The rest of you, go wait over there. I'll divide you up later. Get moving, or I'll see you strung up by your heels.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kaladin shrugged and jogged after the group of bridgemen. It was one of many teams of such men pouring out of barracks or picking themselves up out of alleys. There seemed to be quite a lot of them. Around fifty barracks, with-perhaps-twenty or thirty men in each... that would make nearly as many bridgemen in this army as there had been soldiers in Amaram's entire force.\n\nKaladin's team crossed the grounds, weaving between boards and piles of sawdust, approaching a large wooden contraption. It had obviously weathered a few highstorms and some battles. The dents and holes scattered along its length looked like places where arrows had struck. The bridge in bridgeman, perhaps?\n\nYes, Kaladin thought. It was a wooden bridge, around thirty feet long, eight feet wide. It sloped down at the front and back, and had no railings. The wood was thick, with the largest boards for support through the center. There were some forty or fifty bridges lined up here. Perhaps one for each barrack, making one crew for each bridge? About twenty bridge crews were gathering at this point.\n\nGaz had found himself a wooden shield and a gleaming mace, but there were none for anyone else. He quickly inspected each team. He stopped beside Bridge Four and hesitated. \"Where's your bridgeleader?\" he demanded.\n\n\"Dead,\" one of the bridgemen said. \"Tossed himself down the Honor Chasm last night.\"\n\nGaz cursed. \"Can't you keep a bridgeleader for even a week? Storm it! Lineup; I'll run near you. Listen for my commands. We'll sort out another bridgeleader after we see who survives.\" Gaz pointed at Kaladin. \"You're at the back, lordling. The rest of you, get moving! Storm you, I won't suffer another reprimand because of you fools! Move, move!\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Assist the writer by carrying on with the story.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, knights radiant\nAuthor: Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: The Way of Kings\nChapter: 17" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Shallan's fears were confirmed as Jasnah looked straight at her, then lowered her safehand to her side in a mark of frustration. \"So you are here.\"\n\nShallan cringed. \"The servants told you, then?\"\n\n\"You didn't think that they would leave someone in my alcove and not warn me?\" Behind Jasnah, a small group of parshmen hesitated in the hallway, each carrying an armload of books.\n\n\"Brightness Kholin,\" Shallan said. \"I just-\"\n\n\"I have wasted enough time on you already,\" Jasnah said, eyes furious. \"You will withdraw, Miss Davar. And I will not see you again during my time here. Am I understood?\"\n\nShallan's hopes crumbled. She shrank back. There was a gravity to Jasnah Kholin. One did not disobey her. One need only look into those eyes to understand.\n\n\"I'm sorry to have bothered you,\" Shallan whispered, clutching her satchel and leaving with as much dignity as she could manage. She barely kept the tears of embarrassment and disappointment from her eyes as she hastened down the hallway, feeling like a complete fool.\n\nShe reached the porter's shaft, though they had already returned below after bringing up Jasnah. Shallan didn't pull the bell to summon them. Instead she placed her back to the wall and sank down to the floor, knees up against her chest, satchel in her lap. She wrapped her arms around her legs, freehand clasping her safehand through the fabric of her cuff, breathing quietly.\n\nAngry people unsettled her. She couldn't help but think of her father in one of his tirades, couldn't help but hear screams, bellows, and whimpers. Was she weak because confrontation unsettled her so? She felt that she was." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Foolish, idiot girl, she thought, a few painspren crawling out of the wall near her head. What made you think you could do this? You've only set foot off your family grounds a half-dozen times during your life. Idiot, idiot, idiot!\n\nShe had persuaded her brothers to trust her, to put hope in her ridiculous plan. And now what had she done? Wasted six months during which their enemies circled closer.\n\n\"Brightness Davar?\" asked a hesitant voice.\n\nShallan looked up, realizing she'd been so wrapped in her misery that she hadn't seen the servant approach. He was a younger man, wearing an all black uniform, no emblem on the breast. Not a master-servant, but perhaps one in training.\n\n\"Brightness Kholin would like to speak with you.\" The young man gestured back down the hallway.\n\nTo berate me further? Shallan thought with a grimace. But a highlady like Jasnah got what she wanted. Shallan forced herself to stop shaking, then stood. At least she'd been able to keep the tears away; she hadn't ruined her makeup. She followed the servant back to the lit alcove, satchel clutched before her like a shield on the battlefield.\n\nJasnah Kholin satin the chair Shallan had been using, stacks of books on the table. Jasnah was rubbing her forehead with her freehand. The Soulcaster rested against the back of her skin, the smokestone dark and cracked. Though Jasnah looked fatigued, she sat with perfect posture, her fine silk dress covering her feet, her safehand held across her lap.\n\nJasnah focused on Shallan, lowering her freehand. \"I should not have treated you with such anger, Miss Davar,\" she said in a tired voice. \"You were simply showing persistence, a trait I normally encourage. Storms alight, I've oft been guilty of stubbornness myself. Sometimes we find it hardest to accept in others that which we cling to in ourselves. My only excuse can be that I have put myself under an unusual amount of strain lately.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Shallan nodded ingratitude, though she felt terribly awkward.\n\nJasnah turned to lookout of the balcony into the dark space of the Veil. \"I know what people say of me. I should hope that I am not as harsh as some say, though a woman could have far worse than a reputation for sternness. It can serve one well.\"\n\nShallan had to forcibly keep herself from fidgeting. Should she withdraw?\n\nJasnah shook her head to herself, though Shallan could not guess what thoughts had caused the unconscious gesture. Finally, she turned back to Shallan and waved toward the large, gobletlike bowl on the desk. It held a dozen of Shallan's spheres.\n\nShallan raised her freehand to her lips in shock. She'd completely forgotten the money. She bowed to Jasnah in thanks, then hurriedly collected the spheres. \"Brightness, lest I forget, I should mention that an ardent-Brother Kabsal-came to see you while I waited here. He wished me to pass on his desire to speak with you.\"\n\n\"Not surprising,\" Jasnah said. \"You seem surprised about the spheres, Miss Davar. I assumed that you were waiting outside to recover them. Is that not why you were so close?\"\n\n\"No, Brightness. I was just settling my nerves.\"\n\n\"Ah.\"\n\nShallan bit her lip. The princess appeared to have gotten past her initial tirade. Perhaps...\"Brightness,\" Shallan said, cringing at her brashness, \"what did you think of my letter?\"\n\n\"Letter?\"\n\n\"I...\" Shallan glanced at the desk. \"Beneath that stack of books, Brightness.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A servant quickly moved aside the stack of books; the parshman must have set it on the paper without noticing. Jasnah picked up the letter, raising an eyebrow, and Shallan hurriedly undid her satchel and placed the spheres in her money pouch. Then she cursed herself for being so quick, as now she had nothing to do but stand and wait for Jasnah to finish reading.\n\n\"This is true?\" Jasnah looking up from the paper. \"You are self-trained?\"\n\n\"Yes, Brightness.\"\n\n\"That is remarkable.\"\n\n\"Thank you, Brightness.\"\n\n\"And this letter was a clever maneuver. You correctly assumed that I would respond to a written plea. This shows me your skill with words, and the rhetoric of the letter gives proof that you can think logically and make a good argument.\"\n\n\"Thank you, Brightness,\" Shallan said, feeling another surge of hope, mixed with fatigue. Her emotions had been jerked back and forth like a rope being used fora tugging contest.\n\n\"You should have left the note for me, and withdrawn before I returned.\"\n\n\"But then the note would have been lost beneath that stack of books.\"\n\nJasnah raised an eyebrow at her, as if to show that she did not appreciate being corrected. \"Very well. The context of a person's life is important. Your circumstances do not excuse your lack of education in history and philosophy, but leniency is in order. I will allow you to petition me again at a later date, a privilege I have never given any aspiring ward. Once you have a sufficient groundwork in those two subjects, come tome again. If you have improved suitably, I will accept you.\"\n\nShallan's emotions sank. Jasnah's offer was kindly, but it would take years of study to accomplish what she asked. House Davar would have fallen by then, her family's lands divided among its creditors, her brothers and herself stripped of title and perhaps enslaved." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Thank you, Brightness,\" Shallan said, bowing her head.\n\nJasnah nodded, as if considering the matter closed. Shallan withdrew, walking quietly down the hallway and pulling the cord to ring for the porters.\n\nJasnah had all but promised to accept her at a later date. For most, that would be a great victory. Being trained by Jasnah Kholin-thought by some to be the finest living scholar-would have ensured a bright future. Shallan would have married extremely well, likely to the son of a highprince, and would have found new social circles open to her. Indeed, if Shallan had possessed the time to train under Jasnah, the sheer prestige of a Kholin affiliation might have been enough to save her house.\n\nIf only.\n\nEventually, Shallan made her way out of the Conclave; there were no gates on the front, just pillars set before the open maw. She was surprised to discover how dim it was outside. She trailed down the large steps, then took a smaller, more cultivated side path where she would be out of the way. Small shelves of ornamental shalebark had been grown along this walkway, and several species had let out fanlike tendrils to wave in the evening breeze. A few lazy lifespren-like specks of glowing green dust-flitted from one frond to the next.\n\nShallan leaned back against the stonelike plant, the tendrils pulling in and hiding. From this vantage, she could look down at Kharbranth, lights glowing beneath her like a cascade of fire streaming down the cliff face. The only other option for her and her brothers was to run. To abandon the family estates in Jah Keved and seek asylum. But where? Were there old allies her father hadn't alienated?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "There was that matter of the strange collection of maps they'd found in his study." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "What did they mean? He'd rarely spoken of his plans to his children. Even her father's advisors knew very little. Helaran-her eldest brother-had known more, but he had vanished over a year ago, and her father had proclaimed him dead.\n\nAs always, thinking of her father made her feel ill, and the pain started to constrict her chest. She raised her freehand to her head, suddenly overwhelmed by the weight of House Davar's situation, her part in it, and the secret she now carried, hidden ten heartbeats away.\n\n\"Ho, young miss!\" a voice called. She turned, shocked to see Yalb standing upon a rocky shelf a short distance from the Conclave entrance. A group of men in guard uniforms sat on the rock around him.\n\n\"Yalb?\" she said, aghast. He should have returned to his ship hours ago. She hurried over to stand below the short stone outcropping. \"Why are you still here?\"\n\n\"Oh,\" he said, grinning, \"I found myself a game of kabers herewith these fine, upstanding gentlemen of the city guard. Figured officers of the law were right unlikely to cheat me, so we entered into a friendly-type game while I waited.\"\n\n\"But you didn't need to wait.\"\n\n\"Didn't need to win eighty chips off these fellows neither,\" Yalb said with a laugh. \"But I did both!\"\n\nThe men sitting around him looked far less enthusiastic. Their uniforms were orange tabards tied about the middle with white sashes.\n\n\"Well, I suppose I should be leading you back to the ship, then,\" Yalb said, reluctantly gathering up the spheres in the pile at his feet. They glowed with a variety of hues. Their light was small-each was only a chip-but it was impressive winnings." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Shallan stepped back as Yalb hopped off the rock shelf. His companions protested his departure, but he gestured to Shallan. \"You'd have me leave a lighteyed woman of her stature to walk back to the ship on her own? I figured you for men of honor!\"\n\nThat quieted their protests.\n\nYalb chuckled to himself, bowing to Shallan and leading her away down the path. He had a twinkle to his eyes. \"Stormfather, but it's fun to win against lawmen. I'll have free drinks at the docks once this gets around.\"\n\n\"You shouldn't gamble,\" Shallan said. \"You shouldn't try to guess the future. I didn't give you that sphere so you could waste it on such practices.\"\n\nYalb laughed. \"It ain't gambling if you know you're going to win, young miss.\"\n\n\"You cheated?\" she hissed, horrified. She glanced back at the guardsmen, who had settled down to continue their game, lit by the spheres on the stones before them.\n\n\"Not so loud!\" Yalb said in a low voice. However, he seemed very pleased with himself. \"Cheating four guardsmen, now that's a trick. Hardly believe I managed it!\"\n\n\"I'm disappointed in you. This is not proper behavior.\"\n\n\"It is if you're a sailor, young miss.\" He shrugged. \"It's what they right expected from me. Watched me like handlers of poisonous skyeels, they did. The game wasn't about the cards-it was about them trying to figure how I was cheating and me trying to figure how to keep them from hauling me off. I think I might not have managed to walkaway with my skin if you hadn't arrived!\" That didn't seem to worry him much." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The roadway down to the docks was not nearly as busy as it had been earlier, but there were still a surprisingly large number of people about. The street was lit by oil lanterns-spheres would just have ended up in someone's pouch-but many of the people about carried sphere lanterns, casting a rainbow of colored light on the roadway. The people were almost like spren, each a different hue, moving this way or that.\n\n\"So, young miss,\" Yalb said, leading her carefully through the traffic. \"You really want to go back? I just said what I did so I could extract myself from that game there.\"\n\n\"Yes, I do want to go back, please.\"\n\n\"And your princess?\"\n\nShallan grimaced. \"The meeting was... unproductive.\"\n\n\"She didn't take you? What's wrong with her?\"\n\n\"Chronic competence, I should guess. She's been so successful in life that she has unrealistic expectations of others.\"\n\nYalb frowned, guiding Shallan around a group of revelers stumbling drunkenly up the roadway. Wasn't it a little early for that sort of thing? Yalb got a few steps ahead, turning and walking backward, looking at her. \"That doesn't make sense, young miss. What more could she want than you?\"\n\n\"Much more, apparently.\"\n\n\"But you're perfect! Pardon my forwardness.\"\n\n\"You're walking backward.\"\n\n\"Pardon my backwardness, then. You look good from any side, young miss, that you do.\"\n\nShe found herself smiling. Tozbek's sailors had far too high an opinion of her.\n\n\"You'd make an ideal ward,\" he continued. \"Genteel, pretty, refined and such. Don't much like your opinion on gambling, but that's to be expected. Wouldn't be right fora proper woman not to scold a fellow for gambling. It'd be like the sun refusing to rise or the sea turning white.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Or Jasnah Kholin smiling.\"\n\n\"Exactly! Anyway, you're perfect.\"\n\n\"It's kind of you to say so.\"\n\n\"Well, it's true,\" he said, putting hands on hips, stopping. \"So that's it? You're going to give up?\"\n\nShe gave him a perplexed stare. He stood thereon the busy roadway, lit from above by a lantern burning yellow-orange, hands on his hips, white Thaylen eyebrows drooping along the sides of his face, bare-chested under his open vest. That was a posture no citizen, no matter how high ranked, had ever taken at her father's mansion.\n\n\"I did try to persuade her,\" Shallan said, blushing. \"I went to her a second time, and she rejected me again.\"\n\n\"Two times, eh? In cards, you always got to try a third hand. It wins the most often.\"\n\nShallan frowned. \"But that's not really true. The laws of probability and statistics-\"\n\n\"Don't know much blustering math,\" Yalb said, folding his arms. \"But I do know the Passions. You win when you need it most, you see.\"\n\nThe Passions. Pagan superstition. Of course, Jasnah had referred to glyphwards as superstition too, so perhaps it all came down to perspective.\n\nTry a third time... Shallan shivered to consider Jasnah's wrath if Shallan bothered her yet again. She'd surely withdraw the offer to come study with her in the future.\n\nBut Shallan would never get to take that offer. It was like a glass sphere with no gemstone at the center. Pretty, but worthless. Was it not better to take one last chance at getting the position she needed now?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "It wouldn't work." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jasnah had made it quite clear that Shallan was not yet educated enough.\n\nNot yet educated enough...\n\nAn idea sparked in Shallan's head. She raised her safehand to her breast, standing on that roadway, considering the audacity of it. She'd likely get herself thrown from the city at Jasnah's demand.\n\nYet if she returned home without trying every avenue, could she face her brothers? They depended on her. For once in her life, someone needed Shallan. That responsibility excited her. And terrified her.\n\n\"I need a book merchant,\" she found herself saying, voice wavering slightly.\n\nYalb raised an eyebrow at her.\n\n\"Third hand wins the most. Do you think you can find me a book merchant who is open at this hour?\"\n\n\"Kharbranth is a major port, young miss,\" he said with a laugh. \"Stores stay open late. Just wait here.\" He dashed off into the evening crowd, leaving her with an anxious protest on her lips.\n\nShe sighed, then seated herself in a demure posture on the stone base of a lantern pole. It should be safe. She saw other lighteyed women passing on the street, though they were often carried in palanquins or those small, hand-pulled vehicles. She even saw the occasional real carriage, though only the very wealthy could afford to keep horses.\n\nA few minutes later, Yalb popped out of the crowd as if from nowhere and waved for her to follow. She rose and hurried to him.\n\n\"Should we get a porter?\" she asked as he led her to a large side street that ran laterally across the city's hill. She stepped carefully; her skirt was long enough that she worried about tearing the hem on the stone. The strip at the bottom was designed to be easily replaced, but Shallan could hardly afford to waste spheres on such things." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Nah,\" Yalb said. \"It's right here.\" He pointed along another cross street. This one had a row of shops climbing up the steep slope, each with a sign hanging out front bearing the glyphpair for book, and those glyphs were often styled into the shape of a book. Illiterate servants who might be sent to a shop had to be able to recognize them.\n\n\"Merchants of the same type like to clump together,\" Yalb said, rubbing his chin. \"Seems dumb tome, but I guess merchants are like fish. Where you find one, you'll find others.\"\n\n\"The same could be said of ideas,\" Shallan said, counting. Six different shops. All were lit with Stormlight in the windows, cool and even.\n\n\"Third one on the left,\" Yalb said, pointing. \"Merchant's name is Artmyrn. My sources say he's the best.\" It was a Thaylen name. Likely Yalb had asked others from his homeland, and they had pointed him here.\n\nShe nodded to Yalb and they climbed up the steep stone street to the shop. Yalb didn't enter with her; she'd noticed that many men were uncomfortable around books and reading, even those who weren't Vorin.\n\nShe pushed through the door-stout wood set with two crystal panels-and stepped into a warm room, uncertain what to expect. She'd never gone into a store to purchase anything; she'd either sent servants, or the merchants had come to her.\n\nThe room inside looked very inviting, with large, comfortable easy chairs beside a hearth. Flamespren danced on burning logs there, and the floor was wood. Seamless wood; it had probably been Soulcast that way directly from the stone beneath. Lavish indeed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A woman stood behind a counter at the back of the room. She wore an embroidered skirt and blouse, rather than the sleek, silk, one-piece havah that Shallan wore. She was darkeyed, but she was obviously affluent. In Vorin kingdoms, she'd likely be of the first or second nahn. Thaylens had their own system of ranks. At least they weren't completely pagan-they respected eye color, and the woman wore a glove on her safehand.\n\nThere weren't many books in the place. A few on the counter, one on a stand beside the chairs. A clock ticked on the wall, its underside hung with a dozen shimmering silver bells. This looked more like a person's home than a shop.\n\nThe woman slid a marker into her book, smiling at Shallan. It was a smooth, eager smile. Almost predatory. \"Please, Brightness, sit,\" she said, waving toward the chairs. The woman had curled her long, white Thaylen eyebrows so they hung down the sides of her face like locks from her bangs.\n\nShallan sat hesitantly as the woman rang a bell on the underside of the counter. Soon, a portly man waddled into the room wearing a vest that seemed ready to burst from the stress of holding in his girth. His hair was greying, and he kept his eyebrows combed back, over his ears.\n\n\"Ah,\" he said, clapping ample hands, \"dear young woman. Are you in the market fora nice novel? Some leisure reading to pass the cruel hours while you are separated from a lost love? Or perhaps a book on geography, with details of exotic locations?\" He had a slightly condescending tone and spoke in her native Veden." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I-No, thank you. I need an extensive set of books on history and three on philosophy.\" She thought back, trying to recall the names Jasnah had used. \"Something by Placini, Gabrathin, Yustara, Manaline, or Shauka-daughter-Hasweth.\"\n\n\"Heavy reading for one so young,\" the man said, nodding to the woman, who was probably his wife. She ducked into the backroom. He'd use her for reading; even if he could read himself, he wouldn't want to offend customers by doing so in their presence. He would handle the money; commerce was a masculine art inmost situations.\n\n\"Now, why is a young flower like yourself bothering herself with such topics?\" the merchant said, easing himself down into the chair across from her. \"Can't I interest you in a nice romantic novel? They are my specialty, you see. Young women from across the city come tome, and I always carry the best.\"\n\nHis tone set heron edge. It was galling enough to know she was a sheltered child. Was it really necessary to remind her of it? \"A romantic novel,\" she said, holding her satchel close to her chest. \"Yes, perhaps that would be nice. Do you by chance have a copy of Nearer the Flame?\"\n\nThe merchant blinked. Nearer the Flame was written from the viewpoint of a man who slowly descended into madness after watching his children starve.\n\n\"Are you certain you want something so, er, ambitious?\" the man asked.\n\n\"Is ambition such an unseemly attribute in a young woman?\"\n\n\"Well, no, I suppose not.\" He smiled again-the thick, toothy smile of a merchant trying to put someone at ease. \"I can see you area woman of discriminating taste.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I am,\" Shallan said, voice firm though her heart fluttered." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Was she destined to get into an argument with everyone she met? \"I do like my meals prepared very carefully, as my palate is quite delicate.\"\n\n\"Pardon. I meant that you have discriminating taste in books.\"\n\n\"I've never eaten one, actually.\"\n\n\"Brightness, I believe you are having sport with me.\"\n\n\"Not yet I'm not. I haven't even really begun.\"\n\n\"I-\"\n\n\"Now,\" she said, \"you were right to compare the mind and the stomach.\"\n\n\"But-\"\n\n\"Too many of us,\" she said, \"take great pains with what we ingest through our mouths, and far less with what we partake of through our ears and eyes. Wouldn't you say?\"\n\nHe nodded, perhaps not trusting her to let him speak without interrupting. Shallan knew, somewhere in the back of her mind, that she was letting herself go too far-that she was tense and frustrated after her interactions with Jasnah.\n\nShe didn't care at the moment. \"Discriminating,\" she said, testing the world. \"I'm not certain I agree with your choice of words. To discriminate is to maintain prejudice against. To be exclusive. Can a person afford to be exclusive with what they ingest? Whether we speak of food or of thoughts?\"\n\n\"I think they must be,\" the merchant said. \"Isn't that what you just said?\"\n\n\"I said we should take thought for what we read or eat. Not that we should be exclusive. Tell me, what do you think would happen to a person who ate only sweets?\"\n\n\"I know well,\" the man said. \"I have a sister-in-law who periodically upsets her stomach by doing that.\"\n\n\"See, she was too discriminating. The body needs many different foods to remain healthy. And the mind needs many different ideas to remain sharp. Wouldn't you agree? And so if I were to read only these silly romances you presume that my ambition can handle, my mind would grow sick as surely as your sister-in-law's stomach. Yes, I should think that the metaphor is a solid one. You are quite clever, Master Artmyrn.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His smile returned.\n\n\"Of course,\" she noted, not smiling back, \"being talked down to upsets both the mind and the stomach. So nice of you to give a poignant object lesson to accompany your brilliant metaphor. Do you treat all of your customers this way?\"\n\n\"Brightness... I believe you stray into sarcasm.\"\n\n\"Funny. I thought I'd run straight into it, screaming at the top of my lungs.\"\n\nHe blushed and stood. \"I'll go help my wife.\" He hurriedly withdrew.\n\nShe sat back, and realized she was annoyed at herself for letting her frustration boil out. It was just what her nurses had warned her about. A young woman had to mind her words. Her father's intemperate tongue had earned their house a regrettable reputation; would she add to it?\n\nShe calmed herself, enjoying the warmth and watching the dancing flamespren until the merchant and his wife returned, bearing several stacks of books. The merchant took his seat again, and his wife pulled over a stool, setting the tomes on the floor and then showing them one at a time as her husband spoke.\n\n\"For history, we have two choices,\" the merchant said, condescension-and friendliness-gone. \"Times and Passage, by Rencalt, is a single volume survey of Rosharan history since the Hierocracy.\" His wife held up a red, cloth-bound volume. \"I told my wife that you would likely be insulted by such a shallow option, but she insisted.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" Shallan said. \"I am not insulted, but I do require something more detailed.\"\n\n\"Then perhaps Eternathis will serve you,\" he said as his wife held up a blue-grey set of four volumes. \"It is a philosophical work which examines the same time period by focusing only on the interactions of the five Vorin kingdoms. As you can see, the treatment is exhaustive.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "The four volumes were thick." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The five Vorin kingdoms? She'd thought there were four. Jah Keved, Alethkar, Kharbranth, and Natanatan. United by religion, they had been strong allies during the years following the Recreance. What was the fifth kingdom?\n\nThe volumes intrigued her. \"I will take them.\"\n\n\"Excellent,\" the merchant said, a bit of the gleam returning to his eye. \"Of the philosophical works you listed, we didn't have anything by Yustara. We have one each of works by Placini and Manaline; both are collections of excerpts from their most famous writings. I've had the Placini book read tome; it's quite good.\"\n\nShallan nodded.\n\n\"As for Gabrathin,\" he said, \"we have four different volumes. My, but he was a prolific one! Oh, and we have a single book by Shauka-daughter-Hasweth.\" The wife held up a thin green volume. \"I have to admit, I've never had any of her work read tome. I didn't realize that there were any Shin philosophers of note.\"\n\nShallan looked at the four books by Gabrathin. She had no idea which one she should take, so she avoided the question, pointing at the two collections he had mentioned first and the single volume by Shauka-daughter-Hasweth. A philosopher from distant Shin, where people lived in mud and worshipped rocks? The man who had killed Jasnah's father nearly six years before-prompting the war against the Parshendi in Natanatan-had been Shin. The Assassin in White, they called him.\n\n\"I will take those three,\" Shallan said, \"along with the histories.\"\n\n\"Excellent!\" the merchant repeated. \"For buying so many, I will give you a fair discount. Let us say, ten emerald broams?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Shallan nearly choked." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "An emerald broam was the largest denomination of sphere, worth a thousand diamond chips. Ten of them was more than her trip to Kharbranth had cost by several magnitudes!\n\nShe opened her satchel, looking in at her money pouch. She had around eight emerald broams left. She'd have to take fewer of the books, obviously, but which ones?\n\nSuddenly, the door slammed open. Shallan jumped and was surprised to see Yalb standing there, holding his cap in his hands, nervous. He rushed to her chair, going down on one knee. She was too stunned to say anything. Why was he so worried?\n\n\"Brightness,\" he said, bowing his head. \"My master bids you return. He's reconsidered his offer. Truly, we can take the price you offered.\"\n\nShallan opened her mouth, but found herself stupefied.\n\nYalb glanced at the merchant. \"Brightness, don't buy from this man. He's a liar and a cheat. My master will sell you much finer books at a better price.\"\n\n\"Now, what's this?\" Artmyrn said, standing. \"How dare you! Who is your master?\"\n\n\"Barmest,\" Yalb said defensively.\n\n\"That rat. He sends a boy into my shop trying to steal my customer? Outrageous!\"\n\n\"She came to our shop first!\" Yalb said.\n\nShallan finally recovered her wits. Stormfather! He's quite the actor. \"You had your chance,\" she said to Yalb. \"Run along and tell your master that I refuse to be swindled. I will visit every bookshop in the city if that is what it takes to find someone reasonable.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Artmyrn isn't reasonable,\" Yalb said, spitting to the side. The merchant's eyes opened wide with rage.\n\n\"We shall see,\" Shallan said.\n\n\"Brightness,\" Artmyrn said, red faced. \"Surely you don't believe these allegations!\"\n\n\"And how much were you going to charge her?\" Yalb asked.\n\n\"Ten emerald broams,\" Shallan said. \"For those seven books.\"\n\nYalb laughed. \"And you didn't stand up and walk right out! You practically had my master's ears, and he offered you a better deal than that! Please, Brightness, return with me. We're ready to-\"\n\n\"Ten was just an opening figure,\" Artmyrn said. \"I didn't expect her to take them.\" He looked at Shallan. \"Of course, eight....\"\n\nYalb laughed again. \"I'm sure we have those same books, Brightness. I'll bet my master gives them to you for two.\"\n\nArtmyrn grew even more red-faced, muttering. \"Brightness, surely you wouldn't patronize someone so crass as to send a servant into someone else's shop to steal his customers!\"\n\n\"Perhaps I would,\" Shallan said. \"At least he didn't insult my intelligence.\"\n\nArtmyrn's wife glared at her husband, and the man grew even more red in the face. \"Two emerald, three sapphire. That is as low as I can go. If you want cheaper than that, then buy from that scoundrel Barmest. The books will probably be missing pages, though.\"\n\nShallan hesitated, glancing at Yalb; he was caught up in his role, bowing and scraping. She caught his eyes, and he just kind of gave a shrug." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I'll do it,\" she said to Artmyrn, prompting a groan from Yalb." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He slunk away with a curse from Artmyrn's wife. Shallan rose and counted out the spheres; the emerald broams she retrieved from her safepouch.\n\nSoon, she walked from the shop bearing a heavy canvas bag. She walked down the steep street, and found Yalb lounging beside a lamppost. She smiled as he took the bag from her. \"How did you know what a fair price fora book was?\" she asked.\n\n\"Fair price?\" he said, slinging the bag over his shoulder. \"Fora book? I've no idea. I just figured he'd be trying to take you for as much as he could. That's why I asked around for who his biggest rival was and came back to help get him to be more reasonable.\"\n\n\"It was that obvious I'd let myself be swindled?\" she asked with a blush, the two of them walking out of the side street.\n\nYalb chuckled. \"Just a little. Anyway, conning men like him is almost as much fun as cheating guards. You probably could have gotten him down further by actually leaving with me, then coming back later to give him another chance.\"\n\n\"That sounds complicated.\"\n\n\"Merchants is like mercenaries, my gammer always said. Only difference is that merchants will take your head off, then pretend to be your friend all the same.\"\n\nThis from a man who had just spent the evening cheating a group of guards at cards. \"Well, you have my thanks, anyway.\"\n\n\"Wasn't nothing. It was fun, though I can't believe you paid what you did. It's just a bunch of wood. I could find some driftwood and put some funny marks on it. Would you pay me pure spheres for that too?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I can't offer that,\" she said, fishing in her satchel." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She took out the picture she'd drawn of Yalb and the porter. \"But please, take this, with my thanks.\"\n\nYalb took the picture and stepped up beneath a nearby lantern to get a look. He laughed, cocking his head, smiling broadly. \"Stormfather! Ain't that something? Looks like I'm seeing myself in a polished plate, it does. I can't take this, Brightness!\"\n\n\"Please. I insist.\" She did, however, blink her eyes, taking a Memory of him standing there, one hand on his chin as he studied the picture of himself. She'd redraw him later. After what he'd done for her, she dearly wanted him in her collection.\n\nYalb carefully tucked the picture between the pages of a book, then hefted the bag and continued. They stepped back onto the main roadway. Nomon-the middle moon-had begun to rise, bathing the city in pale blue light. Staying up this late had been a rare privilege for her in her father's house, but these city people around them barely seemed to notice the late hour. What a strange place this city was.\n\n\"Back to the ship now?\" Yalb asked.\n\n\"No,\" Shallan said, taking a deep breath. \"Back to the Conclave.\"\n\nHe raised an eyebrow, but led her back. Once there, she bid Yalb farewell, reminding him to take his picture. He did so, wishing her luck before hastening from the Conclave, probably worried about meeting the guardsmen he'd cheated earlier.\n\nShallan had a servant carry her books, and made her way down the hallway back to the Veil. Just inside the ornate iron doors, she caught the attention of a master-servant." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Yes, Brightness?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "the man asked. Most of the alcoves were now dim, and patient servants were returning tomes to their safe place beyond the crystal walls.\n\nShaking off her fatigue, Shallan counted up the rows. There was still alight in Jasnah's alcove. \"I'd like to use the alcove there,\" she said, pointing to the next balcony over.\n\n\"Do you have a chit of admittance?\"\n\n\"I'm afraid not.\"\n\n\"Then you'll have to rent the space if you wish to use it regularly. Two skymarks.\"\n\nWincing at the price, Shallan dugout the proper spheres and paid. Her money pouches were looking depressingly flat. She let the parshman porters haul her up to the appropriate level, then she quietly walked to her alcove. There, she used all her remaining spheres to fill the oversized goblet lamp. To get enough light, she was forced to use spheres of all nine colors and all three sizes, so the illumination was patchy and varied.\n\nShallan peeked over the side of her alcove, out at the next balcony over. Jasnah sat studying, heedless of the hour, her goblet filled to the brim with pure diamond broams. They were best for light, but less useful in Soulcasting, so weren't as valuable.\n\nShallan ducked back around. There was a place at the very edge of the alcove's table where she could sit, hidden by the wall from Jasnah, so she sat there. Perhaps she should have chosen an alcove on another level, but she wanted to keep an eye on the woman. Hopefully Jasnah would spend weeks here studying. Enough time for Shallan to dedicate herself to some fierce cramming. Her ability to memorize pictures and scenes didn't work as well on text, but she could learn lists and facts at a rate that her tutors had found remarkable." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She settled herself in the chair, pulling out the books and arranging them. She rubbed her eyes. It was really quite late, but there wasn't time to waste. Jasnah had said that Shallan could make another petition when the gaps in her knowledge were filled. Well, Shallan intended to fill those gaps in record time, then present herself again. She'd do it when Jasnah was ready to leave Kharbranth.\n\nIt was a last, desperate hope, so frail that a strong gust of circumstance seemed likely to topple it. Taking a deep breath, Shallan opened the first of the history books.\n\n\"I'm never going to be rid of you, am I?\" a soft, feminine voice asked.\n\nShallan jumped up, nearly knocking over her books as she spun toward the doorway. Jasnah Kholin stood there, deep blue dress embroidered in silver, its silken sheen reflecting the light of Shallan's spheres. The Soulcaster was covered by a fingerless black glove to block the bright gemstones.\n\n\"Brightness,\" Shallan said, rising and curtsying in an awkward rush. \"I didn't mean to disturb you. I-\"\n\nJasnah quieted her with a wave of the hand. She stepped aside as a parshman entered Shallan's alcove, carrying a chair. He placed it beside Shallan's desk, and Jasnah glided over and sat.\n\nShallan tried to judge Jasnah's mood, but the older woman's emotions were impossible to read. \"I honestly didn't want to disturb you.\"\n\n\"I bribed the servants to tell me if you returned to the Veil,\" Jasnah said idly, picking up one of Shallan's tomes, reading the title. \"I didn't want to be interrupted again.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I-\" Shallan looked down, blushing furiously.\n\n\"Don't bother apologizing,\" Jasnah said. She looked tired; more tired than Shallan felt. Jasnah picked through the books. \"A fine selection. You chose well.\"\n\n\"It wasn't really much of a choice,\" Shallan said. \"It was just about all the merchant had.\"\n\n\"You intended to study their contents quickly, I assume?\" Jasnah said musingly. \"Try to impress me one last time before I left Kharbranth?\"\n\nShallan hesitated, then nodded.\n\n\"A clever ploy. I should have put a time restriction on your reapplication.\" She looked at Shallan, glancing her over. \"You are very determined. That is good. And I know why you wish so desperately to be my ward.\"\n\nShallan started. She knew?\n\n\"Your house has many enemies,\" Jasnah continued, \"and your father is reclusive. It will be difficult for you to marry well without a tactically sound alliance.\"\n\nShallan relaxed, though she tried to keep it from showing.\n\n\"Let me see your satchel,\" Jasnah said.\n\nShallan frowned, resisting the urge to pull it close. \"Brightness?\"\n\nJasnah held out her hand. \"You recall what I said about repeating myself?\"\n\nReluctantly, Shallan handed it over. Jasnah carefully removed its contents, neatly lining up the brushes, pencils, pens, jar of lacquer, ink, and solvent. She placed the stacks of paper, the notebooks, and the finished pictures in a line. Then she got out Shallan's money pouches, noting their emptiness. She glanced at the goblet lamp, counting its contents. She raised an eyebrow." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Next, she began to look through Shallan's pictures. First the loose-leaf ones, where she lingered on Shallan's picture of Jasnah herself. Shallan watched the woman's face. Was she pleased? Surprised? Displeased at how much time Shallan spent sketching sailors and serving women?\n\nFinally, Jasnah moved onto the sketchbook filled with drawings of plants and animals Shallan had observed during her trip. Jasnah spent the longest on this, reading through each notation. \"Why have you made these sketches?\" Jasnah asked at the end.\n\n\"Why, Brightness? Well, because I wanted to.\" She grimaced. Should she have said something profound instead?\n\nJasnah nodded slowly. Then she rose. \"I have rooms in the Conclave, granted tome by the king. Gather your things and go there. You look exhausted.\"\n\n\"Brightness?\" Shallan asked, rising, a thrill of excitement running through her.\n\nJasnah hesitated at the doorway. \"At first meeting, I took you fora rural opportunist, seeking only to ride my name to greater wealth.\"\n\n\"You've changed your mind?\"\n\n\"No,\" Jasnah said, \" there is undoubtedly some of that in you. But we are each many different people, and you can tell much about a person by what they carry with them. If that notebook is any indication, you pursue scholarship in your free time for its own sake. That is encouraging. It is, perhaps, the best argument you could make on your own behalf.\n\n\"If I cannot be rid of you, then I might as well make use of you. Go and sleep. Tomorrow we will begin early, and you will divide your time between your education and helping me with my studies.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "With that, Jasnah withdrew.\n\nShallan sat, bemused, blinking tired eyes. She got out a sheet of paper and wrote a quick prayer of thanks, which she'd burn later. Then she hurriedly gathered up her books and went looking fora servant to send to the Wind's Pleasure for her trunk.\n\nIt had been a very, very long day. But she'd won. The first step had been completed.\n\nNow her real task began." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kaladin had not been assigned to Bridge Four by chance. Out of all the bridge crews, Bridge Four had the highest casualty rate. That was particularly notable, considering that average bridge crews often lost one-third to one-half of their number on a single run.\n\nKaladin sat outside, back to the barrack wall, a sprinkle of rain falling on him. It wasn't a highstorm. Just an ordinary spring rain. Soft. A timid cousin to the great storms.\n\nSyl sat on Kaladin's shoulder. Or hovered on it. Whatever. She didn't seem to have any weight. Kaladin sat slumped, chin against his chest, staring at a dip in the stone, which was slowly collecting rainwater.\n\nHe should have moved inside Bridge Four's barrack. It was cold and unfurnished, but it would keep off the rain. But he just... couldn't care. How long had he been with Bridge Four now? Two weeks? Three? An eternity?\n\nOf the twenty-five men who had survived his first bridge deployment, twenty-three were now dead. Two had been moved to other bridge crews because they'd done something to please Gaz, but they'd died there. Only one other man and Kaladin remained. Two out of nearly forty.\n\nThe bridge crew's numbers had been replenished with more unfortunates, and most of those had died too. They had been replaced. Many of those had died. Bridgeleader after bridgeleader had been chosen. It was supposed to be a favored position on abridge crew, always getting to run in the best places. It didn't matter for Bridge Four.\n\nSome bridge runs weren't as bad. If the Alethi arrived before the Parshendi, no bridgemen died. And if they arrived too late, sometimes another highprince was already there. Sadeas wouldn't help in that case; he'd take his army and go back to camp. Even in a bad run, the Parshendi would often choose to focus their arrows on certain crews, trying to bring them down one at a time. Sometimes, dozens of bridgemen would fall, but not a single one from Bridge Four." }, { "from": "human", "value": "That was rare." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "For some reason, Bridge Four always seemed to get targeted. Kaladin didn't bother to learn the names of his companions. None of the bridgemen did. What was the point? Learn a man's name, and one of you would be dead before the week was out. Odds were, you'd both be dead. Maybe he should learn names. Then he'd have someone to talk to in Damnation. They could reminisce about how terrible Bridge Four had been, and agree that eternal fires were much more pleasant.\n\nHe smirked dully, still staring at the rock in front of him. Gaz would come for them soon, send them to work. Scrubbing latrines, cleaning streets, mucking stables, gathering rocks. Something to keep their minds off their fate.\n\nHe still didn't know why they fought on those blustering plateaus. Something about those large chrysalises. They had gemstones at their hearts, apparently. But what did that have to do with the Vengeance Pact?\n\nAnother bridgeman-a youthful Veden with reddish-blond hair-lay nearby, staring up into the spitting sky. Rainwater pooled in the corners of his brown eyes, then ran down his face. He didn't blink.\n\nThey couldn't run. The warcamp might as well have been a prison. The bridgemen could go to the merchants and spend their meager earnings on cheap wine or whores, but they couldn't leave the warcamp. The perimeter was secure. Partially, this was to keep out soldiers from the other camps-there was always rivalry where armies met. But mostly it was so bridgemen and slaves could not flee.\n\nWhy? Why did this all have to be so horrible? None of it made sense. Why not let a few bridgemen run out in front of the bridges with shields to block arrows? He'd asked, and had been told that would slow them down too much. He'd asked again, and had been told he'd be strung up if he didn't shut his mouth." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The lighteyes acted as if this entire mess were some kind of grand game. If it was, the rules were hidden from bridgemen, just as pieces on aboard had no inkling what the player's strategy might be.\n\n\"Kaladin?\" Syl asked, floating down and landing on his leg, holding the girlish form with the long dress flowing into mist. \"Kaladin? You haven't spoken in days.\"\n\nHe kept staring, slumped. There was away out. Bridgemen could visit the chasm nearest the camp. There were rules forbidding it, but the sentries ignored them. It was seen as the one mercy that could be given the bridgemen.\n\nBridgemen who took that path never returned.\n\n\"Kaladin?\" Syl said, voice soft, worried.\n\n\"My father used to say that there are two kinds of people in the world,\" Kaladin whispered, voice raspy. \"He said there are those who take lives. And there are those who save lives.\"\n\nSyl frowned, cocking her head. This kind of conversation confused her; she wasn't good with abstractions.\n\n\"I used to think he was wrong. I thought there was a third group. People who killed in order to save.\" He shook his head. \"I was a fool. There is a third group, a big one, but it isn't what I thought.\"\n\n\"What group?\" she said, sitting down on his knee, brow scrunched up.\n\n\"The people who exist to be saved or to be killed. The group in the middle. The ones who can't do anything but die or be protected. The victims. That's all I am.\"\n\nHe looked up across the wet lumberyard. The carpenters had retreated, throwing tarps over untreated wood and bearing away tools that could rust. The bridgeman barracks ran around the west and north sides of the yard. Bridge Four's was set off a little from the others, as if bad luck were a disease that could be caught. Contagious by proximity, as Kaladin's father would say." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We exist to be killed,\" Kaladin said. He blinked, glancing at the other few members of Bridge Four sitting apathetically in the rain. \"If we're not dead already.\"\n\n\"I hate seeing you like this,\" Syl said, buzzing about Kaladin's head as his team of bridgemen dragged a log down into the lumberyard. The Parshendi often set fire to the outermost permanent bridges, so Highprince Sadeas's engineers and carpenters were always busy.\n\nThe old Kaladin might have wondered why the armies didn't work harder to defend the bridges. There's something wrong here! a voice inside him said. You're missing part of the puzzle. They waste resources and bridgeman lives. They don't seem to care about pushing inward and assaulting the Parshendi. They just fight pitched battles on plateaus, then comeback to the camps and celebrate. Why? WHY?\n\nHe ignored that voice. It belonged to the man he had been.\n\n\"You used to be vibrant,\" Syl said. \"So many looked up to you, Kaladin. Your squad of soldiers. The enemies you fought. The other slaves. Even some lighteyes.\"\n\nLunch would come soon. Then he could sleep until their bridgeleader kicked him awake for afternoon duty.\n\n\"I used to watch you fight,\" Syl said. \"I can barely remember it. My memories of then are fuzzy. Like looking at you through a rainstorm.\"\n\nWait. That was odd. Syl hadn't started following him until after his fall from the army. And she'd acted just like a regular windspren back then. He hesitated, earning a curse and a lash on his back from a taskmaster's whip.\n\nHe started pulling again. Bridgemen who were laggard in work were whipped, and bridgemen who were laggard on runs were executed. The army was very serious about that. Refuse to charge the Parshendi, try to lag behind the other bridges, and you'd be beheaded. They reserved that fate for that specific crime, in fact." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There were lots of ways to get punished as a bridgeman. You could earn extra work detail, get whipped, have your pay docked. If you did something really bad, they'd string you up for the Stormfather's judgment, leaving you tied to a post or a wall to face a highstorm. But the only thing you could do to be executed directly was refuse to run at the Parshendi.\n\nThe message was clear. Charging with your bridge might get you killed, but refusing to do so would get you killed.\n\nKaladin and his crew lifted their log into a pile with others, then unhooked their dragging lines. They walked back toward the edge of the lumberyard, where more logs waited.\n\n\"Gaz!\" a voice called. A tall, yellow-and-black-haired soldier stood at the edge of the bridge grounds, a group of miserable men huddled behind him. That was Laresh, one of the soldiers who worked the duty tent. He brought new bridgemen to replace those who'd been killed.\n\nThe day was bright, without a hint of clouds, and the sun was hot on Kaladin's back. Gaz hustled up to meet the new recruits, and Kaladin and the others happened to be walking in that direction to pickup a log.\n\n\"What a sorry lot,\" Gaz said, looking over the recruits. \"Of course, if they weren't, they wouldn't be sent here.\"\n\n\"That's the truth,\" Laresh said. \"These ten at the front were caught smuggling. You know what to do.\"\n\nNew bridgemen were constantly needed, but there were always enough bodies. Slaves were common, but so were thieves or other lawbreakers from among the camp followers. Never parshmen. They were too valuable, and besides, the Parshendi were some kind of cousins to the parshmen. Better not to give the parshman workers in camp the sight of their kind fighting." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sometimes a soldier would be thrown into abridge crew." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That only happened if he'd done something extremely bad, like striking an officer. Acts that would earn a hanging in many armies meant being sent to the bridge crews here. Supposedly, if you survived a hundred bridge runs, you'd be released. It had happened once or twice, the stories said. It was probably just a myth, intended to give the bridgemen some tiny hope for survival.\n\nKaladin and the others walked past the newcomers, gazes down, and began hooking their ropes to the next log.\n\n\"Bridge Four needs some men,\" Gaz said, rubbing his chin.\n\n\"Four always needs men,\" Laresh said. \"Don't worry. I brought a special batch for it.\" He nodded toward a second group of recruits, much more ragtag, walking up behind.\n\nKaladin slowly stood upright. One of the prisoners in that group was a boy of barely fourteen or fifteen. Short, spindly, with around face. \"Tien?\" he whispered, taking a step forward.\n\nHe stopped, shaking himself. Tien was dead. But this newcomer looked so familiar, with those frightened black eyes. It made Kaladin want to shelter the boy. Protect him.\n\nBut... he'd failed. Everyone he'd tried to protect-from Tien to Cenn-had ended up dead. What was the point?\n\nHe turned back to dragging the log.\n\n\"Kaladin,\" Syl said, landing on the log, \"I'm going to leave.\"\n\nHe blinked in shock. Syl. Leave? But... she was the last thing he had left. \"No,\" he whispered. It came out as a croak.\n\n\"I'll try to comeback,\" she said. \"But I don't know what will happen when I leave you. Things are strange. I have odd memories. No, most of them aren't even memories. Instincts. One of those tells me that if I leave you, I might lose myself.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Then don't go,\" he said, growing terrified.\n\n\"I have to,\" she said, cringing. \"I can't watch this anymore. I'll try to return.\" She looked sorrowful. \"Goodbye.\" And with that, she zipped away into the air, adopting the form of a tiny group of tumbling, translucent leaves.\n\nKaladin watched her go, numb.\n\nThen he turned back to hauling the log. What else could he do?\n\nThe youth, the one that reminded him of Tien, died during the very next bridge run.\n\nIt was a bad one. The Parshendi were in position, waiting for Sadeas. Kaladin charged the chasm, not even flinching as men were slaughtered around him. It wasn't bravery that drove him; it wasn't even a wish that those arrows would take him and end it all. He ran. That was what he did. Like a boulder rolled down a hill, or like rain fell from the sky. They didn't have a choice. Neither did he. He wasn't a man; he was a thing, and things just did what they did.\n\nThe bridgemen laid their bridges in a tight line. Four crews had fallen. Kaladin's own team had lost nearly enough stop them.\n\nBridge placed, Kaladin turned away, the army charging across the wood to start the real battle. He stumbled back across the plateau. After a few moments, he found what he was looking for. The boy's body.\n\nKaladin stood, wind whipping at his hair, looking down at the corpse. It lay faceup in a small hollow in the stone. Kaladin remembered lying in a similar hollow, holding a similar corpse.\n\nAnother bridgeman had fallen nearby, bristling with arrows. It was the man who'd lived through Kaladin's first bridge run all those weeks back. His body slumped to the side, lying on a stone outcropping afoot or so above the corpse of the boy. Blood dripped from the tip of an arrow sticking out his back. It fell, one ruby drop at a time, splattering on the boy's open, lifeless eye. A little trail of red ran from the eye down the side of his face. Like crimson tears." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That night, Kaladin huddled in the barrack, listening to a highstorm buffet the wall. He curled against the cold stone. Thunder shattered the sky outside.\n\nI can't keep going like this, he thought. I'm dead inside, assure as if I'd taken a spear through the neck.\n\nThe storm continued its tirade. And for the first time in a year, Kaladin found himself crying." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "NINE YEARS AGO\n\nKal stumbled into the surgery room, the open door letting in bright white sunlight. At ten years old, he was already showing signs that he would be tall and lanky. He'd always preferred Kal to his full name, Kaladin. The shorter name made him fit in better. Kaladin sounded like a lighteyes's name.\n\n\"I'm sorry, Father,\" he said.\n\nKal's father, Lirin, carefully tightened the strap around the arm of the young woman who was tied onto the narrow operating table. Her eyes were closed; Kal had missed the administration of the drug. \"We will discuss your tardiness later,\" Lirin said, securing the woman's other hand. \"Close the door.\"\n\nKal cringed and closed the door. The windows were dark, shutters firmly in place, and so the only light was that of the Stormlight shining from a large globe filled with spheres. Each of those spheres was a broam, in total an incredible sum that was on permanent loan from Hearthstone's landlord. Lanterns flickered, but Stormlight was always true. That could save lives, Kal's father said.\n\nKal approached the table, anxious. The young woman, Sani, had sleek black hair, not tinged with even a single strand of brown or blond. She was fifteen, and her freehand was wrapped with a bloody, ragged bandage. Kal grimaced at the clumsy bandaging job-it looked like the cloth had been ripped from someone's shirt and tied in haste.\n\nSani's head rolled to the side, and she mumbled, drugged. She wore only a white cotton shift, her safehand exposed. Older boys in the town sniggered about the chances they'd had-or claimed to have had-at seeing girls in their shifts, but Kal didn't understand what the excitement was all about. He was worried about Sani, though. He always worried when someone was wounded." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Fortunately, the wound didn't look terrible." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If it had been life-threatening, his father would have already begun working on it, using Kal's mother-Hesina-as an assistant.\n\nLirin walked to the side of the room and gathered up a few small, clear bottles. He was a short man, balding despite his relative youth. He wore his spectacles, which he called the most precious gift he'd ever been given. He rarely got them out except for surgery, as they were too valuable to risk just wearing about. What if they were scratched or broken? Hearthstone was a large town, but its remote location in northern Alethkar would make replacing the spectacles difficult.\n\nThe room was kept neat, the shelves and table washed clean each morning, everything in its place. Lirin said you could tell a lot about a man from how he kept his workspace. Was it sloppy or orderly? Did he respect his tools or did he leave them casually about? The town's only fabrial clock sat hereon the counter. The small device bore a single dial at the center and a glowing Smokestone at its heart; it had to be infused to keep the time. Nobody else in the town cared about minutes and hours as Lirin did.\n\nKal pulled over a stool to get a better vantage. Soon he wouldn't need the stool; he was growing taller by the day. He inspected Sani's hand. She'll be all right, he told himself, as his father had trained him. A surgeon needs to becalm. Worry just wastes time.\n\nIt was hard advice to follow.\n\n\"Hands,\" Lirin said, not turning away from gathering his tools.\n\nKal sighed, hopping off his stool and hurrying over to the basin of warm, soapy water by the door. \"Why does it matter?\" He wanted to beat work, helping Sani." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Wisdom of the Heralds,\" Lirin said absently, repeating a lecture he'd given many times before. \"Deathspren and rotspren hate water. It will keep them away.\"\n\n\"Hammie says that's silly,\" Kal said. \"He says deathspren are mighty good at killing folk, so why should they be afraid of a little water?\"\n\n\"The Heralds were wise beyond our understanding.\"\n\nKal grimaced. \"But they're demons, father. I heard it off that ardent who came teaching last spring.\"\n\n\"That's the Radiants he spoke of,\" Lirin said sharply. \"You're mixing them again.\"\n\nKal sighed.\n\n\"The Heralds were sent to teach mankind,\" Lirin said. \"They led us against the Voidbringers after we were cast from heaven. The Radiants were the orders of knights they founded.\"\n\n\"Who were demons.\"\n\n\"Who betrayed us,\" Lirin said, \"once the Heralds left.\" Lirin raised a finger. \"They were not demons, they were just men who had too much power and not enough sense. Either way, you are always to wash your hands. You can seethe effect it has on rotspren with your own eyes, even if deathspren cannot be seen.\"\n\nKal sighed again, but did as he was told. Lirin walked over to the table again, bearing a tray lined with knives and little glass bottles. His ways were odd-though Lirin made certain that his son didn't mix up the Heralds and the Lost Radiants, Kal had heard his father say that he thought the Voidbringers weren't real. Ridiculous. Who else could be blamed when things went missing in the night, or when a crop got infected with digger-worms?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The others in town thought Lirin spent too much time with books and sick people, and that made him strange. They were uncomfortable around him, and with Kal by association. Kal was only just beginning to realize how painful it could feel to be different.\n\nHands washed, he hopped backup onto the stool. He began to feel nervous again, hoping that nothing would go wrong. His father used a mirror to focus the spheres'light onto Sani's hand. Gingerly, he cutoff the makeshift bandage with a surgeon's knife. The wound wasn't life-threatening, but the hand was pretty badly mangled. When his father had started training Kal two years before, sights like this had sickened him. Now he was used to torn flesh.\n\nThat was good. Kal figured this would be useful when he went to war someday, to fight for his highprince and the lighteyes.\n\nSani had three broken fingers and the skin on her hand was scraped and gouged, the wound cluttered with sticks and dirt. The third finger was the worst, shattered and twisted nastily, splinters of bone protruding through the skin. Kal felt its length, noting the fractured bones, the blackness on the skin. He carefully wiped away dried blood and dirt with a wet cloth, picking out rocks and sticks as his father cut thread for sewing.\n\n\"The third finger will have to go, won't it?\" Kal said, tying a bandage around the base of the finger to keep it from bleeding.\n\nHis father nodded, a hint of a smile on his face. He'd hoped Kal would discern that. Lirin often said that a wise surgeon must know what to remove and what to save. If that third finger had been set properly at first... but no, it was beyond recovery. Sewing it back together would mean leaving it to fester and die." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His father did the actual amputation. He had such careful, precise hands. Training as a surgeon took over ten years, and it would be sometime yet before Lirin let Kal hold the knife. Instead, Kal wiped away blood, handed his father knives, and held the sinew to keep it from tangling as his father sewed. They repaired the hand so far as they could, working with deliberate speed.\n\nKal's father finished the final suture, obviously pleased at having been able to save four of the fingers. That wasn't how Sani's parents would see it. They'd be disappointed that their beautiful daughter would now have a disfigured hand. It almost always happened that way-terror at the initial wound, then anger at Lirin's inability to work wonders. Lirin said it was because the townsfolk had grown accustomed to having a surgeon. To them, the healing had become an expectation, rather than a privilege.\n\nBut Sani's parents were good people. They'd make a small donation, and Kal's family-his parents, him, and his younger brother Tien-would continue to be able to eat. Odd, how they survived because of others\" misfortune. Maybe that was part of what made the townsfolk resent them.\n\nLirin finished by using a small heated rod to cauterize where he felt the stitches wouldn't be enough. Finally, he spread pungent lister's oil across the hand to prevent infection-the oil frightened away rotspren even better than soap and water. Kal wrapped on clean bandages, careful not to disturb the splints.\n\nLirin disposed of the finger, and Kal began to relax. She'd be all right.\n\n\"You still need to work on those nerves of yours, son,\" Lirin said softly, washing blood from his hands." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Advance the storyline as the writer's tale partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, knights radiant\nAuthor: Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: The Way of Kings\nChapter: 25" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What do you think they mean?\" Adolin asked, speaking quietly so only Renarin could hear. \"Father's... episodes.\"\n\n\"I don't know.\"\n\n\"Renarin, we can't keep ignoring them. The soldiers are talking. Rumors are spreading through all ten armies!\"\n\nDalinar Kholin was going mad. Whenever a highstorm came, he fell to the floor and began to shake. Then he began raving in gibberish. Often, he'd stand, blue eyes delusional and wild, swinging and flailing. Adolin had to restrain him lest he hurt himself or others.\n\n\"He sees things,\" Adolin said. \"Or he thinks he does.\"\n\nAdolin's grandfather had suffered from delusions. When he'd grown old, he'd thought he was back at war. Was that what happened to Dalinar? Was he reliving youthful battles, days when he'd earned his renown? Or was it that terrible night he saw over and over, the night when his brother had been murdered by the Assassin in White? And why did he so often mention the Knights Radiant soon after his episodes?\n\nIt all made Adolin feel sick. Dalinar was the Blackthorn, a genius of the battlefield and a living legend. Together, he and his brother had reunited Alethkar's warring highprinces after centuries of strife. He had defeated countless challengers in duels, had won dozens of battles. The entire kingdom looked up to him. And now this.\n\nWhat did you do, as a son, when the man you loved-the greatest man alive-started to lose his wits?\n\nSadeas was speaking about a recent victory. He'd won another gemheart two days back, and the king-it appeared-hadn't heard of it. Adolin tensed at the boasts." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We should move back,\" Renarin said.\n\n\"We are of rank enough to be here,\" Adolin said.\n\n\"I don't like how you get when you're around Sadeas.\"\n\nWe have to keep an eye on the man, Renarin, Adolin thought. He knows Father is weakening. He'll try to strike. Adolin forced himself to smile, however. He tried to be relaxed and confident for Renarin. Generally, that wasn't difficult. He'd happily spend his entire life dueling, lounging, and courting the occasional pretty girl. Of late, however, life didn't seem content to let him enjoy its simple pleasures.\n\n\"... model of courage lately, Sadeas,\" the king was saying. \"You've done very well in capturing gemhearts. You are to be commended.\"\n\n\"Thank you, Your Majesty. Though the competition grows unexciting, as some people don't seem interested in participating. I guess even the best weapons eventually grow dull.\"\n\nDalinar, who might once have responded to the veiled slur, said nothing. Adolin gritted his teeth. It was flat-out unconscionable for Sadeas to betaking shots at his father in his present state. Perhaps Adolin should offer the pompous bastard a challenge. You didn't duel highprinces-it just wasn't done, not unless you were ready to make a big storm of it. But maybe he was. Maybe-\n\n\"Adolin...\" Renarin said warningly.\n\nAdolin looked to the side. He'd held out his hand, as if to summon his Blade. He picked up his reins with the hand instead. Storming man, he thought. Leave my father alone.\n\n\"Why don't we talk about the hunt?\" Renarin said. As usual, the younger Kholin rode with a straight back and perfect posture, eyes hidden behind his spectacles, a model of propriety and solemnity. \"Aren't you excited?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Bah,\" Adolin said. \"I never find hunts as interesting as everyone says they're going to be. I don't care how big the beast is-in the end, it's really just butchery.\"\n\nNow, dueling, that was exciting. The feel of the Shardblade in your hand, of facing someone crafty, skilled, and careful. Man against man, strength against strength, mind against mind. Hunting some dumb beast just couldn't compare to that.\n\n\"Maybe you should have invited Janala along,\" Renarin said.\n\n\"She wouldn't have come,\" Adolin said. \"Not after... well, you know. Rilla was very vocal yesterday. It was best to just leave.\"\n\n\"You really should have been wiser in your treatment of her,\" Renarin said, sounding disapproving.\n\nAdolin mumbled a noncommittal reply. It wasn't his fault that his relationships often burned out quickly. Well, technically, this time it was his fault. But it wasn't usually. This was just an oddity\n\nThe king began complaining about something. Renarin and Adolin had lagged behind, and Adolin couldn't hear what was being said.\n\n\"Let's ride up closer,\" Adolin said, nudging his mount forward.\n\nRenarin rolled his eyes, but followed.\n\nUnite them.\n\nThe words whispered in Dalinar's mind. He couldn't rid himself of them. They consumed him as he trotted Gallant across a rocky, boulder-strewn plateau on the Shattered Plains.\n\n\"Shouldn't we be thereby now?\" the king asked.\n\n\"We're still two or three plateaus away from the hunting site, Your Majesty,\" Dalinar said, distracted. \"It will be another hour, perhaps, observing proper protocols. If we had vantage, we could probably seethe pavilion to-\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Vantage? Would that rock formation up ahead do?\"\n\n\"I suppose,\" Dalinar said, inspecting the towerlike length of rock. \"We could send scouts to check.\"\n\n\"Scouts? Bah. I need a run, Uncle. I'll bet you five full broams that I can beat you to the top.\" And with that, the king galloped away in a thunder of hooves, leaving behind a shocked group of lighteyes, attendants, and guards.\n\n\"Storm it!\" Dalinar cursed, kicking his horse into motion. \"Adolin, you have command! Secure the next plateau, just in case.\"\n\nHis son, who had been lagging behind, nodded sharply. Dalinar galloped after the king, a figure in golden armor and along blue cape. Hoofbeats pounded the stone, rock formations whipping past. Ahead, the steep, spike-like spire of rock rose from the lip of the plateau. Such formations were common out hereon the Shattered Plains.\n\nCurse that boy. Dalinar still thought of Elhokar as a boy, though the king was in his twenty-seventh year. But sometimes he acted like a boy. Why couldn't he give more warning before leaping into one of these stunts?\n\nStill, as Dalinar rode, he admitted to himself that it did feelgood to charge freely, helm off, face to the wind. His pulse picked up as he got into the race, and he forgave its impetuous beginning. For the moment, Dalinar let himself forget his troubles and the words that had been echoing in his head.\n\nThe king wanted a race? Well, Dalinar would give him one.\n\nHe charged past the king. Elhokar's stallion was a good breed, but it could never match Gallant, who was a full Ryshadium, two hands taller and much stronger than an ordinary horse. The animals chose their own riders, and only a dozen men in all of the warcamps were so fortunate. Dalinar was one, Adolin another." }, { "from": "human", "value": "In seconds, Dalinar reached the formation's base." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He threw himself from the saddle while Gallant was still moving. He hit hard, but the Shardplate absorbed the impact, stone crunching beneath his metal boots as he skidded to a stop. Men who hadn't ever worn Plate-particularly those who were accustomed to its inferior cousin, simple plate and mail-could never understand. Shardplate wasn't merely armor. It was so much more.\n\nHe ran to the bottom of the rock formation as Elhokar galloped up behind. Dalinar leaped-Plate-assisted legs propelling him up some eight feet-and grabbed a handhold in the stone. With a heave, he pulled himself up, the Plate lending him the strength of many men. The Thrill of contest began to rise within him. It wasn't nearly as keen as the Thrill of battle, but it was a worthy substitute.\n\nRock scraped below. Elhokar had begun to climb as well. Dalinar didn't look down. He kept his eyes fixed on the small natural platform at the top of the forty-foot-high formation. He groped with steel-covered fingers, finding another handhold. The gauntlets covered his hands, but the ancient armor somehow transferred sensation to his fingers. It was as if he were wearing thin leather gloves.\n\nA scraping sound came from the right, accompanied by a voice cursing softly. Elhokar had taken a different path, hoping to pass Dalinar, but the king had found himself at a section without handholds above. His progress was stalled.\n\nThe king's golden Shardplate glittered as he glanced at Dalinar. Elhokar set his jaw and looked upward, then launched himself in a powerful leap toward an outcropping.\n\nFool boy, Dalinar thought, watching the king seem to hang in the air fora moment before he snatched the projecting rock and dangled. Then the king pulled himself up and continued to climb." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Dalinar moved furiously, stone grinding beneath his metal fingertips, chips falling free." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The wind ruffled his cape. He heaved, strained, and pushed himself, managing to get just ahead of the king. The top was mere feet away. The Thrill sang at him. He reached for the goal, determined to win. He couldn't lose. He had to-\n\nUnite them.\n\nHe hesitated, not quite certain why, and let his nephew get ahead.\n\nElhokar hauled himself to his feet atop the rock formation, then laughed in triumph. He turned toward Dalinar, holding out a hand. \"Stormwinds, Uncle, but you made a fine race of it! At the end there, I thought for sure you had me.\"\n\nThe triumph and joy in Elhokar's face brought a smile to Dalinar's lips. The younger man needed victories these days. Even little ones would do him good. Gloryspren-like tiny golden translucent globes of light-began to pop into existence around him, attracted by his sense of accomplishment. Blessing himself for hesitating, Dalinar took the king's hand, letting Elhokar pull him up. There was just enough room on top of the natural tower for them both.\n\nBreathing deeply, Dalinar slapped the king on the back with a clank of metal on metal. \"That was a fine contest, Your Majesty. And you played it very well.\"\n\nThe king beamed. His golden Shardplate gleamed in the noonday sun; he had his faceplate up, revealing light yellow eyes, a strong nose, and a clean-shaven face that was almost too handsome, with its full lips, broad forehead, and firm chin. Gavilar had looked like that too, before he'd suffered a broken nose and that terrible scar on his chin.\n\nBelow them, the Cobalt Guard and some of Elhokar's attendants rode up, including Sadeas. His Plate gleamed red, though he wasn't a full Shardbearer-he had only the Plate, not the Blade." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dalinar looked up. From this height, he could scan a large swath of the Shattered Plains, and he had an odd moment of familiarity. He felt as if he'd been atop this vantage point before, looking down at a broken landscape.\n\nThe moment was gone in a heartbeat.\n\n\"There,\" Elhokar said, pointing with a golden, gauntleted hand. \"I can see our destination.\"\n\nDalinar shaded his eyes, picking out a large cloth pavilion three plateaus away, flying the king's flag. Wide, permanent bridges led there; they were relatively close to the Alethi side of the Shattered Plains, on plateaus Dalinar himself maintained. A fully grown chasmfiend living here was his to hunt, the wealth at its heart his privilege to claim.\n\n\"You were correct again, Uncle,\" Elhokar said.\n\n\"I try to make a habit of it.\"\n\n\"I can't blame you for that, I suppose. Though I can beat you at a race now and then.\"\n\nDalinar smiled. \"I felt like a youth again, chasing after your father on some ridiculous challenge.\"\n\nElhokar's lips tightened to a thin line, and the gloryspren faded away. Mentioning Gavilar soured him; he felt others compared him unfavorably to the old king. Unfortunately, he was often right.\n\nDalinar moved on quickly. \"We must have seemed of the ten fools, charging away like that. I do wish you'd given me more notice to prepare your honor guard. This is a war zone.\"\n\n\"Bah. You worry too much, Uncle. The Parshendi haven't attacked this close to our side of the Plains in years.\"\n\n\"Well, you seemed worried about your safety two nights ago.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elhokar sighed audibly. \"How many times must I explain this to you, Uncle? I can face enemy soldiers with Blade in hand. It's what they might send when we're not looking, when all is dark and quiet, that you should be trying to protect me from.\"\n\nDalinar didn't reply. Elhokar's nervousness-paranoia, even-regarding assassination was strong. But who could blame him, considering what had happened to his father?\n\nI'm sorry, brother, he thought, as he did every time he thought of the night when Gavilar had died. Alone, without his brother to protect him.\n\n\"I looked into the matter you asked me about,\" Dalinar said, forcing away bad memories.\n\n\"You did? What did you discover?\"\n\n\"Not much, I'm afraid. There were no traces of trespassers on your balcony, and none of the servants reported any strangers in the area.\"\n\n\"There was someone watching me in the darkness that night.\"\n\n\"If so, they haven't returned, Your Majesty. And they left no clues behind.\"\n\nElhokar seemed dissatisfied, and the silence between them grew stark. Below, Adolin met with scouts and prepared for the troop crossing. Elhokar had protested at how many men Dalinar had brought. Most of them wouldn't be needed on the hunt-the Shardbearers, not the soldiers, would slay the beast. But Dalinar would see his nephew protected. Parshendi raids had grown less bold during the years of fighting-Alethi scribes guessed their numbers were a quarter their prior strength, though it was difficult to judge-but the king's presence might be enough to entice them into a reckless attack.\n\nThe winds blew across Dalinar, returning with them that faint familiarity he'd felt a few minutes before. Standing atop a peak, looking out at desolation. A sense of an awful and amazing perspective." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That's it, he thought. I did stand atop a formation like this. It happened during-\n\nDuring one of his visions. The very first one.\n\nYou must unite them, the strange, booming words had told him. You must prepare. Build of your people a fortress of strength and peace, a wall to resist the winds. Cease squabbling and unite. The Everstorm comes.\n\n\"Your Majesty,\" Dalinar found himself saying. \"I...\" He trailed off as quickly as he began. What could he say? That he'd been seeing visions? That-in defiance of all doctrine and commonsense-he thought those visions might be from the Almighty? That he thought they should withdraw from the battlefield and go back to Alethkar?\n\nPure foolishness.\n\n\"Uncle?\" the king asked. \"What do you want?\"\n\n\"Nothing. Come, let's get back to the others.\"\n\nAdolin twisted one of his hogshide reins around his finger while he sat astride his horse, awaiting the next batch of scout reports. He'd managed to get his mind off his father and Sadeas, and was instead contemplating just how he was going to explain his falling outwith Rilla in away that would earn him some sympathy with Janala.\n\nJanala loved ancient epic poems; could he phrase the falling out in dramatic terms? He smiled, thinking of her luxurious black hair and sly smile. She'd been daring, teasing at him while he was known to be courting someone else. He could use that too. Maybe Renarin was right, perhaps he should have invited heron the hunt. The prospect of fighting a greatshell would have been far more interesting to him if someone beautiful and long-haired were watching....\n\n\"New scout reports are in, Brightlord Adolin,\" Tarilar said, jogging up." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Adolin turned his mind back to business. He'd taken up position with some members of the Cobalt Guard beside the base of the high rock formation where his father and the king were still conversing. Tarilar, scoutlord, was a gaunt-faced man with a thick chest and arms. From some angles, his head looked so relatively small on his body that it appeared to have been smashed.\n\n\"Proceed,\" Adolin said.\n\n\"Advance runners have met with the lead huntmaster and have returned. There are no sightings of Parshendi on any nearby plateaus. Companies Eighteen and Twenty-one are in position, though there are still eight companies to go.\"\n\nAdolin nodded. \"Have Company Twenty-one send some outriders to watch from plateaus fourteen and sixteen. And two each on plateaus six and eight.\"\n\n\"Six and eight? Behind us?\"\n\n\"If I were going to ambush the party,\" Adolin said, \"I'd round back this way and cut us off from fleeing. Do it.\"\n\nTarilar saluted. \"Yes, Brightlord.\" He hurried away to pass the orders.\n\n\"You really think that's necessary?\" Renarin asked, riding up beside Adolin.\n\n\"No. But Father will want it done anyway. You know he will.\"\n\nThere was motion up above. Adolin looked up just in time to seethe king leap off the rock formation, cape streaming behind him as he fell some forty feet to the rock floor. Adolin's father stood at the lip above, and Adolin could imagine him cursing to himself at what he saw as a foolhardy move. Shardplate could withstand a fall that far, but it was high enough to be dangerous.\n\nElhokar landed with an audible crack, throwing up chips of stone and a large puff of Stormlight. He managed to stay upright. Adolin's father took a safer way down, descending to a lower ledge before jumping." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He seems to take the safer pathway more and more often lately, Adolin thought idly. And he often seems to find reasons to give me command as well. Thoughtful, Adolin trotted his horse out of the shadow of the rock formation. He needed to get a report from the rearguard-his father would want to hear it.\n\nHis path took him pasta group of lighteyes from Sadeas's party. The king, Sadeas, and Vamah each had a collection of attendants, aides, and sycophants accompanying them. Looking at them riding in their comfortable silks, open-fronted jackets, and shade-covered palanquins made Adolin aware of his sweaty, bulky armor. Shardplate was wonderful and empowering, but beneath a hot sun, it could still leave a man wishing for something less confining.\n\nBut, of course, he couldn't have worn casual clothing like the others. Adolin was to be in uniform, even on a hunt. The Alethi War Codes commanded it. Never mind that nobody had followed those Codes in centuries. Or at least nobody but Dalinar Kholin-and, by extension, his sons.\n\nAdolin passed a pair of lounging lighteyes, Vartian and Lomard, two of Sadeas's recent hangers-on. They were talking loudly enough that Adolin could hear. Probably on purpose. \"Chasing after the king again,\" Vartian said, shaking his head. \"Like pet axehounds nipping at their master's heels.\"\n\n\"Shameful,\" Lomard said. \"How long has it been since Dalinar won a gemheart? The only time he can get one is when the king lets them hunt it without competition.\"\n\nAdolin set his jaw and rode on. His father's interpretation of the Codes wouldn't let Adolin challenge a man to a duel while he was on duty or in command. He chafed at the needless restrictions, but Dalinar had spoken as Adolin's commanding officer. That meant there was no room for argument. He'd have to find away to duel the two idiot sycophants in another setting, put them in their places. Unfortunately, he couldn't duel everyone who spoke out against his father." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The biggest problem was, the things they said had some real truth to them." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Alethi princedoms were like kingdoms unto themselves, still mostly autonomous despite having accepted Gavilar asking. Elhokar had inherited the throne, and Dalinar, by right, had taken the Kholin Princedom as his own.\n\nHowever, most of the highprinces gave only token nods to the paramount rule of the king. That left Elhokar without land that was specifically his own. He tended to act like a highprince of the Kholin Princedom, taking great interest in its day-to-day management. So, while Dalinar should have been a ruler unto himself, he instead bent to Elhokar's whims and dedicated his resources to protecting his nephew. That made him weak in the eyes of the others-nothing more than a glorified bodyguard.\n\nOnce, when Dalinar had been feared, men had not dared whisper about these things. But now? Dalinar went on fewer and fewer plateau assaults, and his forces lagged behind in capturing precious gemhearts. While the others fought and won, Dalinar and his sons spent their time in bureaucratic administration.\n\nAdolin wanted to be out there fighting, killing Parshendi. What was the good of following the Codes of War when he rarely got to go to war? It's the fault of those delusions. Dalinar wasn't weak, and he certainly wasn't a coward, no matter what people said. He was just troubled.\n\nThe rearguard captains weren't formed up yet, so Adolin decided to give the king a report instead. He trotted up toward the king-joining Sadeas, who was doing the same. Not unexpectedly, Sadeas frowned at him. The highprince hated that Adolin had a Blade while Sadeas had none; he had coveted one for years now." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Adolin met the highprince's eyes, smiling." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Anytime you want to duel me for my Blade, Sadeas, go ahead and try. What Adolin wouldn't do to get that eel of a man in the dueling ring.\n\nWhen Dalinar and the king rode up, and Adolin spoke quickly, before Sadeas could speak. \"Your Majesty, I have scout reports.\"\n\nThe king sighed. \"More of nothing, I expect. Honestly, Uncle, must we have a report on every little detail of the army?\"\n\n\"We are at war, Your Majesty,\" Dalinar said.\n\nElhokar sighed sufferingly.\n\nYou're a strange man, cousin, Adolin thought. Elhokar saw murderers in every shadow, yet often dismissed the Parshendi threat. He'd go charging off like he had today, with no honor guard, and would leap off a forty-foot-tall rock formation. Yet he'd stay up nights, terrified of assassination.\n\n\"Give your report, son,\" Dalinar said.\n\nAdolin hesitated, now feeling foolish at the lack of substance to what he had to say. \"The scouts have seen no sign of the Parshendi. They've met with the huntmaster. Two companies have secured the next plateau, and the other eight will need sometime to cross. We're close, though.\"\n\n\"Yes, we saw from above,\" Elhokar said. \"Perhaps a few of us could ride ahead....\"\n\n\"Your Majesty,\" Dalinar said. \"The point of bringing my troops along would be somewhat undermined if you left them behind.\"\n\nElhokar rolled his eyes. Dalinar did not yield, his expression as immobile as the rocks around them. Seeing him like that-firm, unyielding before a challenge-made Adolin smile with pride. Why couldn't he be like this all of the time? Why did he back down so often before insults or challenges?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Very well,\" the king said. \"We'll take a break and wait while the army crosses.\"\n\nThe king's attendants responded immediately, men climbing off horses, women having their palanquin bearers set them down. Adolin moved off to get that rearguard report. By the time he returned, Elhokar was practically holding court. His servants had setup a small awning to give him shade, and others served wine. Chilled, using one of the new fabrials that could make things cold.\n\nAdolin removed his helm and wiped his brow with his saddle rag, again wishing he could join the others and enjoy a little wine. Instead, he climbed down from his horse and went looking for his father. Dalinar stood outside the awning, gauntleted hands clasped behind his back, looking eastward, toward the Origin-the distant, the unseen place where highstorms began. Renarin stood at his side, looking out as well, as if trying to see what it was that his father found so interesting.\n\nAdolin rested a hand on his brother's shoulder, and Renarin smiled at him. Adolin knew that his brother-now nineteen years old-felt out of place. Though he wore aside sword, he barely knew how to use it. His blood weakness made it difficult for him to spend any reasonable amount of time practicing.\n\n\"Father,\" Adolin said. \"Maybe the king was right. Perhaps we should have moved on quickly. I'd rather have this entire hunt over with.\"\n\nDalinar looked at him. \"When I was your age, I looked forward to a hunt like this. Taking down a greatshell was the highlight of a young man's year.\"\n\nNot this again, Adolin thought. Why was everyone so offended that he didn't find hunts exciting? \"It's just an oversized chull, Father.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"These \"oversized chulls\" grow to fifty feet tall and are capable of crushing even a man in Shardplate.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Adolin said, \"and so we'll bait it for hours while baking in the hot sun. If it decides to show up, we'll pelt it with arrows, only closing in once it's so weak it can barely resist as we hack it to death with Shardblades. Very honorable.\"\n\n\"It's not a duel,\" Dalinar said, \"it's a hunt. A grand tradition.\"\n\nAdolin raised an eyebrow at him.\n\n\"And yes,\" Dalinar added. \"It can be tedious. But the king was insistent.\"\n\n\"You're just still smarting over the problems with Rilla, Adolin,\" Renarin said. \"You were eager a week ago. You really should have invited Janala.\"\n\n\"Janala hates hunts. Thinks they're barbarous.\"\n\nDalinar frowned. \"Janala? Who's Janala?\"\n\n\"Daughter of Brightlord Lustow,\" Adolin said.\n\n\"And you're courting her?\"\n\n\"Not yet, but I've sure been trying.\"\n\n\"What happened to that other girl? The short one, with the fondness for silver hair ribbons?\"\n\n\"Deeli?\" Adolin said. \"Father, I stopped courting her over two months back!\"\n\n\"You did?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nDalinar rubbed his chin.\n\n\"There have been two between her and Janala, Father,\" Adolin noted. \"You really need to pay more attention.\"\n\n\"Almighty help any man who tries to keep track of your tangled courtships, son.\"\n\n\"The most recent was Rilla,\" Renarin said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dalinar frowned. \"And you two...\"\n\n\"Had some problems yesterday,\" Adolin said. He coughed, determined to change the subject. \"Anyway, don't you find it odd that the king would insist oncoming to hunt the chasmfiend himself?\"\n\n\"Not particularly. It isn't often that a full-sized one makes its way out here, and the king rarely gets to goon plateau runs. This is away for him to fight.\"\n\n\"But he's so paranoid! Why does he now want to go and hunt, exposing himself on the Plains?\"\n\nDalinar looked toward the king's awning. \" I know he seems odd, son. But the king is more complex a man than many give him credit for being. He worries that his subjects see him as a coward because of how much he fears assassins, and so he finds ways to prove his courage. Foolish ways, sometimes-but he's not the first man I've known who will face battle without fear, yet cower in terror about knives in the shadows. The hallmark of insecurity is bravado.\n\n\"The king is learning to lead. He needs this hunt. He needs to prove to himself, and to others, that he's still strong and worthy to command a kingdom at war. That's why I encouraged him. A successful hunt, under controlled circumstances, could bolster his reputation and his confidence.\"\n\nAdolin slowly closed his mouth, his father's words cutting down his complaints. Strange, how much the king's actions made sense when explained that way. Adolin looked up at his father. How can the others whisper that he's a coward? Can't they see his wisdom?\n\n\"Yes,\" Dalinar said, eyes growing distant. \"Your nephew is a better man than many think him, and a stronger king. At least he could be. I just have to figure out how to persuade him to leave the Shattered Plains.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Adolin started. \"What?\"\n\n\"I didn't understand at first,\" Dalinar continued. \" Unite them. I'm supposed to unite them. But aren't they already united? We fight together hereon the Shattered Plains. We have a common enemy in the Parshendi. I'm beginning to see that we're united only in name. The highprinces give lip service to Elhokar, but this war-this siege-is a game to them. A competition against one another.\n\n\"We can't unite them here. We need to return to Alethkar and stabilize our homeland, learn how to work together as one nation. The Shattered Plains divide us. The others worry too much about winning wealth and prestige.\"\n\n\"Wealth and prestige are what being Alethi is about, Father!\" Adolin said. Was he really hearing this? \"What of the Vengeance Pact? The highprinces vowed to seek retribution upon the Parshendi!\"\n\n\"And we have sought it.\" Dalinar looked to Adolin. \"I realize that it sounds terrible, son, but somethings are more important than vengeance. I loved Gavilar. I miss him fiercely, and I hate the Parshendi for what they did. But Gavilar's lifework was to unite Alethkar, and I'll go to Damnation before I let it break apart.\"\n\n\"Father,\" Adolin said, feeling pained, \"if there's something wrong here, it's that we're not trying hard enough. You think the highprinces are playing games? Well, show them the way it should be done! Instead of talking of retreat, we should be talking of advancing, striking at the Parshendi instead of besieging them.\"\n\n\"Perhaps.\"\n\n\"Either way, we cannot speak of withdrawing,\" Adolin said. The men already talked of Dalinar losing his spine. What would they say if they got hold of this? \"You haven't brought this up with the king, have you?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Not yet. I haven't found the right way.\"\n\n\"Please. Don't talk to him about it.\"\n\n\"We shall see.\" Dalinar turned back toward the Shattered Plains, his eyes growing distant again.\n\n\"Father...\"\n\n\"You've made your point, son, and I've replied to it. Do not press the issue. Have you gotten the report from the rearguard?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"What of the vanguard?\"\n\n\"I just checked with them and...\" He trailed off. Blast. It had been long enough that it was probably time to move the king's party onward. The last of the army couldn't leave this plateau until the king was safely on the other side.\n\nAdolin sighed and went off to collect the report. Before long, they were all across the chasm and riding over the next plateau. Renarin trotted up to Adolin and tried to engage him in conversation, but Adolin gave only halfhearted replies.\n\nHe was beginning to feel an odd longing. Most of the older men in the army-even those only a few years older than Adolin-had fought alongside his father during the glory days. Adolin found himself jealous of all of those men who had known his father and had seen him fight when he hadn't been so wrapped up in the Codes.\n\nThe changes in Dalinar had begun with the death of his brother. That terrible day was when everything had started to go wrong. The loss of Gavilar had nearly crushed Dalinar, and Adolin would never forgive the Parshendi for bringing his father such pain. Never. Men fought on the Plains for different reasons, but this was why Adolin had come. Perhaps if they beat the Parshendi, his father would go back to the man he had been. Perhaps those ghostly delusions that haunted him would vanish." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ahead, Dalinar was speaking quietly with Sadeas. Both men wore frowns. They barely tolerated one another, though they had once been friends. That had also changed the night of Gavilar's death. What had happened between them?\n\nThe day wore on, and they eventually arrived at the hunt site-a pair of plateaus, one where the creature would be lured up to attack, and another one a safe distance away for those who would watch. Like most others, these plateaus had an uneven surface inhabited by hardy plants adapted to regular storm exposure. Rocky shelves, depressions, and uneven footing made fighting on them treacherous.\n\nAdolin joined his father, who waited beside the final bridge as the king moved over onto the viewing plateau, followed by a company of soldiers. The attendants would be next.\n\n\"You're doing well with your command, son,\" Dalinar said, nodding to a group of soldiers at they passed and saluted.\n\n\"They're good men, Father. They hardly need someone to command them during a march from plateau to plateau.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Dalinar said. \"But you need experience leading, and they need to learn to see you as a commander.\" Renarin trotted up to them on his horse; it was probably time to cross to the viewing plateau. Dalinar nodded for his sons to go first.\n\nAdolin turned to go, but hesitated as he noticed something on the plateau behind them. A rider, moving quickly to catch up with the hunting party, coming from the direction of the warcamps.\n\n\"Father,\" Adolin said, pointing.\n\nDalinar turned immediately, following the gesture. However, Adolin soon recognized the newcomer. Not a messenger, as he'd expected.\n\n\"Wit!\" Adolin called, waving." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The newcomer trotted up to them. Tall and thin, the King's Wit rode easily on a black gelding. He wore a stiff black coat and black trousers, a color matched by his deep onyx hair. Though he wore along, thin sword tied to his waist, as far as Adolin knew, the man had never drawn it. A dueling foil rather than a military blade, it was mostly symbolic.\n\nWit nodded to them as he approached, wearing one of those keen smiles of his. He had blue eyes, but he wasn't really a lighteyes. Nor was he a darkeyes. He was... well, he was the King's Wit. That was a category all its own.\n\n\"Ah, young Prince Adolin!\" Wit exclaimed. \"You actually managed to pry yourself away from the camp's young women long enough to join this hunt? I'm impressed.\"\n\nAdolin chuckled uncomfortably. \"Well, that's been a topic of some discussion lately....\"\n\nWit raised an eyebrow.\n\nAdolin sighed. Wit would find out eventually anyway-it was virtually impossible to keep anything from the man. \"I made a lunch appointment with one woman yesterday, but I was... well, I was courting another. And she's the jealous type. So now neither will speak with me.\"\n\n\"It's a constant source of amazement that you get yourself into such messes, Adolin. Each one is more exciting than the previous!\"\n\n\"Er, yes. Exciting. That's exactly how it feels.\"\n\nWit laughed again, though he maintained a sense of dignity in his posture. The King's Wit was not a silly court fool such as one might find in other kingdoms. He was a sword, a tool maintained by the king. Insulting others was beneath the dignity of the king, so just as one used gloves when forced to handle something vile, the king retained a Wit so he didn't have to debase himself to the level of rudeness or offensiveness." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This new Wit had been with them for some months, and there was something... different about him. He seemed to know things that he shouldn't, important things. Useful things.\n\nWit nodded to Dalinar. \"Your Lordship.\"\n\n\"Wit,\" Dalinar said stiffly.\n\n\"And young Prince Renarin!\"\n\nRenarin kept his eyes down.\n\n\"No greeting for me, Renarin?\" Wit said, amused.\n\nRenarin said nothing.\n\n\"He thinks you'll mock him if he speaks to you, Wit,\" Adolin said. \"Earlier this morning, he told me he'd determined not to say anything around you.\"\n\n\"Wonderful!\" Wit exclaimed. \"Then I can say whatever I wish, and he'll not object?\"\n\nRenarin hesitated.\n\nWit leaned into Adolin. \"Have I told you about the night Prince Renarin and I had two days back, walking the streets of the warcamp? We came across these two sisters, you see, blue eyed and-\"\n\n\"That's a lie!\" Renarin said, blushing.\n\n\"Very well,\" Wit said without missing a beat, \"I'll confess there were actually three sisters, but Prince Renarin quite unfairly ended up with two of them, and I didn't wish to diminish my reputation by-\"\n\n\"Wit.\" Dalinar was stern as he cut in.\n\nThe black-clad man looked to him.\n\n\"Perhaps you should restrict your mockery to those who deserve it.\"\n\n\"Brightlord Dalinar. I believe that was what I was doing.\"\n\nDalinar's frown deepened. He never had liked Wit, and picking on Renarin was a sure way to raise his ire. Adolin could understand that, but Wit was almost always good-natured with Renarin." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Wit moved to leave, passing Dalinar as he did. Adolin could barely overhear what was said as Wit leaned over to whisper something. \"Those who \"deserve\" my mockery are those who can benefit from it, Brightlord Dalinar. That one is less fragile than you think him.\" He winked, then turned his horse to move on over the bridge.\n\n\"Stormwinds, but I like that man,\" Adolin said. \"Best Wit we've had in ages!\"\n\n\"I find him unnerving,\" Renarin said softly.\n\n\"That's half the fun!\"\n\nDalinar said nothing. The three of them crossed the bridge, passing Wit, who had stopped to torment a group of officers-lighteyes of low enough rank that they needed to serve in the army and earn a wage. Several of them laughed while Wit poked fun at another.\n\nThe three of them joined the king, and were immediately approached by the day's huntmaster. Bashin was a short man with a sizable paunch; he wore rugged clothing with a leather overcoat and a wide-brimmed hat. He was a darkeyes of the first nahn, the highest and most prestigious rank a darkeyes could have, worthy even of marrying into a lighteyed family.\n\nBashin bowed to the king. \"Your Majesty! Wonderful timing! We've just tossed down the bait.\"\n\n\"Excellent,\" Elhokar said, climbing from the saddle. Adolin and Dalinar did likewise, Shardplate clinking softly, Dalinar untying his helm from the saddle. \"How long will it take?\"\n\n\"Two or three hours is likely,\" Bashin said, taking the reins of the king's horse. Grooms took the two Ryshadium. \"We've setup over there.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Bashin pointed toward the hunting plateau, the smaller plateau where the actual fighting would take place away from the attendants and the bulk of the soldiers. A group of hunters led a lumbering chull around its perimeter, towing a rope draped over the side of the cliff. That rope would be dragging the bait.\n\n\"We're using hog carcasses,\" Bashin explained. \"And we poured hog's blood over the sides. The chasmfiend has been spotted by patrols here a good dozen times. He's got his nest nearby, for certain-he's not hereto pupate. He's too big for that, and he's remained in the area too long. So it should be a fine hunt! Once he arrives, we'll loose a group of wild hogs as distractions, and you can begin weakening him with arrows.\"\n\nThey had brought grandbows: large steel bows with thick strings and such a high draw weight that only a Shardbearer could use them, to fire shafts as thick as three fingers. They were recent creations, devised by Alethi engineers through the use of fabrial science, and each required a small infused gemstone to maintain the strength of its pull without warping the metal. Adolin's aunt Navani-the widow of King Gavilar, mother of Elhokar and his sister Jasnah-had led the research to develop the bows.\n\nIt would be nice if she hadn't left, Adolin thought idly. Navani was an interesting woman. Things were never boring around her.\n\nSome had started calling the bows Shardbows, but Adolin didn't like the term. Shardblades and Shardplate were something special. Relics from another time, a time when the Radiants had walked Roshar. No amount of fabrial science had even approached re-creating them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Bashin led the king and his highprinces toward a pavilion at the center of the viewing plateau. Adolin joined his father, intending to give a report on the crossing. About half of the soldiers were in place, but many of the attendants were still making their way across the large, permanent bridge onto the viewing plateau. The king's banner flapped above the pavilion, and a small refreshment station had been erected. A soldier at the back was setting up the rack of four grandbows. They were sleek and dangerous-looking, with thick black shafts in four quivers beside them.\n\n\"I think you'll have a fine day for the hunt,\" Bashin said to Dalinar. \"Judging by reports, the beast is a big one. Larger than you've ever slain before, Brightlord.\"\n\n\"Gavilar always wanted to slay one of these,\" Dalinar said wistfully. \"He loved greatshell hunts, though he never got a chasmfiend. Odd that I've now killed so many.\"\n\nThe chull pulling the bait bleated in the distance.\n\n\"You need to go for the legs on this one, Brightlords,\" Bashin said. Pre-hunt advice was one of Bashin's responsibilities, and he took those seriously. \"Chasmfiends, well, you're used to attacking them in their chrysalises. Don't forget how mean they are when they're not pupating. With one this big, use a distraction and come in from...\" He trailed off, then groaned, cursing softly. \"Storms take that animal. I swear, the man who trained it must have been daft.\"\n\nHe was looking across at the next plateau. Adolin followed his glance. The crablike chull that had been towing the bait was lumbering away from the chasm with a slow, yet determined gait. Its handlers were yelling, running after it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'm sorry, Brightlord,\" Bashin said. \"It's been doing this all day.\"\n\nThe chull bleated in a gravelly voice. Something seemed wrong to Adolin.\n\n\"We can send for another one,\" Elhokar said. \"It shouldn't take too long to-\"\n\n\"Bashin?\" Dalinar said, his voice suddenly alarmed. \"Shouldn't there be bait on the end of that beast's rope?\"\n\nThe huntmaster froze. The rope the chull was towing was frayed at the end.\n\nSomething dark-something mind-numbingly enormous-rose out of the chasm on thick, chitinous legs. It climbed onto the plateau-not the small plateau where the hunt was supposed to take place, but the viewing plateau where Dalinar and Adolin stood. The plateau filled with attendants, unarmed guests, female scribes, and unprepared soldiers.\n\n\"Aw, Damnation,\" Bashin said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ten heartbeats.\n\nOne.\n\nThat was how long it took to summon a Shardblade. If Dalinar's heart was racing, the time was shorter. If he was relaxed, it took longer.\n\nTwo.\n\nOn the battlefield, the passing of those beats could stretch like an eternity. He pulled his helm on as he ran.\n\nThree.\n\nThe chasmfiend slammed an arm down, smashing the bridge filled with attendants and soldiers. People screamed, plunging into the chasm. Dalinar dashed forward on Plate-enhanced legs, following the king.\n\nFour.\n\nThe chasmfiend towered like a mountain of interlocking carapace the color of dark violet ink. Dalinar could see why the Parshendi called these things gods. It had a twisted, arrowhead-like face, with a mouth full of barbed mandibles. While it was vaguely crustacean, this was no bulky, placid chull. It had four wicked foreclaws set into broad shoulders, each claw the size of a horse, and a dozen smaller legs that clutched the side of the plateau.\n\nFive.\n\nChitin made a grinding noise against stone as the creature finished pulling itself onto the plateau, snatching a cart-pulling chull with a swift claw.\n\nSix.\n\n\"To arms, to arms!\" Elhokar bellowed ahead of Dalinar. \"Archers, fire!\"\n\nSeven.\n\n\"Distract it from the unarmed!\" Dalinar bellowed at his soldiers.\n\nThe creature cracked the chull's shell-platter-size fragments clattering to the plateau-then stuffed the beast into its maw and began looking down at the fleeing scribes and attendants. The chull stopped bleating as the monster crunched down." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Eight.\n\nDalinar leaped a rocky shelf and sailed five yards before slamming into the ground, throwing up chips of rock.\n\nNine.\n\nThe chasmfiend bellowed with an awful screeching sound. It trumpeted with four voices, overlapping one another.\n\nArchers drew. Elhokar yelled orders just in front of Dalinar, his blue cape flapping.\n\nDalinar's hand tingled with anticipation.\n\nTen!\n\nHis Shardblade-Oathbringer-formed in his hand, coalescing from mist, appearing as the tenth beat of his heart thudded in his chest. Six feet long from tip to hilt, the Blade would have been unwieldy in the hands of any man not wearing Shardplate. To Dalinar, it felt perfect. He'd carried Oathbringer since his youth, Bonding to it when he was twenty Weepings old. It was long and slightly curved, a handspan wide, with wavelike serrations near the hilt. It curved at the tip like a fisherman's hook, and was wet with cold dew.\n\nThis sword was apart of him. He could sense energy racing along its blade, as if it were eager. A man never really knew life itself until he charged into battle with Plate and Blade.\n\n\"Make it angry!\" Elhokar bellowed, his Shardblade-Sunraiser-springing from mist into his hand. It was long and thin with a large crossguard, and was etched up the sides with the ten fundamental glyphs. He didn't want the monster to escape; Dalinar could hear it in his voice. Dalinar was more worried about the soldiers and attendants; this hunt had already turned terribly wrong. Perhaps they should distract the monster long enough for everyone to escape, then pullback and let it dine on chulls and hogs." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The creature screamed its multivoiced wail again, slamming a claw down among the soldiers." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Men screamed; bones splintered and bodies crumpled.\n\nArchers loosed, aiming for the head. A hundred shafts zipped into the air, but only a few hit the soft muscle between plates of chitin. Behind them, Sadeas was calling for his grandbow. Dalinar couldn't wait for that-the creature was here, dangerous, killing his men. The bow would be too slow. This was a job for the Blade.\n\nAdolin charged past, riding Sureblood. The lad had gone racing for his horse, rather than charging like Elhokar had. Dalinar himself had been forced to stay with the king. The other horses-even the warhorses-panicked, but Adolin's white Ryshadium stallion held steady. Ina moment, Gallant was there, trotting beside Dalinar. Dalinar grabbed the reins and heaved himself into the air with Plate-enhanced legs, jumping up into the saddle. The force of his landing might have strained the back of a regular horse, but Gallant was made of stronger stone than that.\n\nElhokar closed his helm, the sides misting.\n\n\"Hold back, Your Majesty,\" Dalinar called, riding past. \"Wait until Adolin and I weaken it.\" Dalinar reached up, slamming down his own visor. The sides misted, locking it into place, and the sides of the helm became translucent to him. You still needed the eye slit-looking through the sides was like looking through dirty glass-but the translucence was one of the most wonderful parts of Shardplate.\n\nDalinar rode into the monster's shadow. Soldiers scrambled about, clutching spears. They hadn't been trained to fight thirty-foot-tall beasts, and it was a testament to their valor that they formed up anyway, trying to draw attention away from the archers and the fleeing attendants." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Arrows rained down, bouncing off the carapace and becoming more deadly to the troops below than they were to the chasmfiend." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dalinar raised his free arm to shade his eye slit as an arrow clanged off his helm.\n\nAdolin fell back as the beast swung at a batch of archers, crushing them with one of its claws. \"I'll take left,\" Adolin yelled, voice muffled by his helm.\n\nDalinar nodded, cutting to the right, galloping pasta group of dazed soldiers and into sunlight again as the chasmfiend raised a foreclaw for another sweep. Dalinar raced under the limb, transferring Oathbringer to his left hand and holding the sword out to the side, slashing it through one of the chasmfiend's trunklike legs.\n\nThe Blade sheared the thick chitin with barely a tug of resistance. As always, it didn't cut living flesh, though it killed the leg as surely as if it had been cut free. The large limb slipped, falling numb and useless.\n\nThe monster roared with its deep, overlapping, trumpeting voices. On the other side, Dalinar could make out Adolin slicing at a leg.\n\nThe creature shook, turning toward Dalinar. The two legs that had been cut dragged lifelessly. The monster was long and narrow like a cray-fish, and had a flattened tail. It walked on fourteen legs. How many could it lose before collapsing?\n\nDalinar rounded Gallant, meeting up with Adolin, whose blue Shardplate was gleaming, cape streaming behind him. They switched sides as they turned in wide arcs, each heading for another leg.\n\n\"Meet your enemy, monster!\" Elhokar bellowed.\n\nDalinar turned. The king had found his mount and had managed to get it under control. Vengeance wasn't a Ryshadium, but the animal was of the best Shin stock. Astride the animal, Elhokar charged, Blade held above his head." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Well, there was no forbidding him the fight. He should be all right in his Plate so long as he kept moving. \"The legs, Elhokar!\" Dalinar shouted.\n\nElhokar ignored him, charging directly for the beast's chest. Dalinar cursed, heeling Gallant as the monster swung. Elhokar turned at the last moment, leaning low, ducking under the blow. The chasmfiend's claw hit stone with a cracking sound. It roared in anger at missing Elhokar, the sound echoing through the chasms.\n\nThe king veered toward Dalinar, riding past him in a rush. \"I'm distracting it, you fool. Keep attacking!\"\n\n\"I have the Ryshadium!\" Dalinar yelled back at him. \"I'll distract-I'm faster!\"\n\nElhokar ignored him again. Dalinar sighed. Elhokar, characteristically, could not be contained. Arguing would only cost more time and more lives, so Dalinar did as he'd been told. He rounded to the side for another approach, Gallant's hooves beating against the stone ground. The king drew the monster's direct attention, and Dalinar was able to ride in and slam his Blade through another leg.\n\nThe beast emitted four overlapping screams and turned toward Dalinar. But as it did, Adolin rode past on the other side, cutting at another leg with a deft strike. The leg slumped, and arrows rained down as archers continued to fire.\n\nThe creature shook, confused by the attacks coming from every side. It was getting weak, and Dalinar raised his arm, gesturing. The command ordered the rest of the foot soldiers to retreat toward the pavilion. Orders given, he slipped in and killed another leg. That meant five down. Perhaps it was time to let the beast limp away; killing it now wasn't worth risking lives." }, { "from": "human", "value": "He called to the king, who rode-Blade held out to the side-a short distance away." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The king glanced at him, but obviously didn't hear. As the chasmfiend loomed in the background, Elhokar wheeled Vengeance in a sharp right turn toward Dalinar.\n\nThere was a soft snap, and suddenly the king-and his saddle-went tumbling through the air. The horse's quick turn had caused the saddle girth to break. A man in Shardplate was heavy and put a great strain on both his mount and saddle.\n\nDalinar felt a spike of fear, and he reined in Gallant. Elhokar slammed to the ground, dropping his Shardblade. The weapon reverted to mist, vanishing. It was a protection from keeping a Blade from being taken by your enemies; they vanished unless you willed them to stay when releasing them.\n\n\"Elhokar!\" Dalinar bellowed. The king rolled, cape wrapping around his body, then came to rest. He lay dazed fora moment; the armor was cracked on one shoulder, leaking Stormlight. The Plate would have cushioned the fall. He'd be all right.\n\nUnless-\n\nA claw loomed above the king.\n\nDalinar felt a moment of panic, turning Gallant to charge toward the king. He was going to be too slow! The beast would-\n\nAn enormous arrow slammed into the chasmfiend's head, cracking chitin. Purple gore spurted free, causing the beast to trump in agony. Dalinar twisted in the saddle.\n\nSadeas stood in his red Plate, taking another massive arrow from an attendant. He drew, launching the thick bolt into the chasmfiend's shoulder with a sharp crack.\n\nDalinar raised Oathbringer in salute. Sadeas acknowledged, raising his bow. They were not friends, and they did not like one another." }, { "from": "human", "value": "But they would protect the king." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That was the bond that united them.\n\n\"Get to safety!\" Dalinar yelled to the king as he charged past. Elhokar stumbled to his feet and nodded.\n\nDalinar moved in. He had to distract the beast long enough for Elhokar to getaway. More of Sadeas's arrows flew true, but the monster started to ignore them. Its sluggishness vanished, and its bleats became angry, wild, crazed. It was growing truly enraged.\n\nThis was the most dangerous part; there would be no retreating now. It would follow them until it either killed them or was slain.\n\nA claw smashed to the ground just beside Gallant, throwing chips of stone into the air. Dalinar hunkered low, careful to keep his Shardblade out, and he cut free another leg. Adolin had done the same on the other side. Seven legs down, half of them. How long before the beast dropped? Normally, at this stage, they had launched several dozen arrows into the animal. It was difficult to guess what one would do without that prior softening-beside that, he'd never fought one this large before.\n\nHe turned Gallant, trying to draw the creature's attention. Hopefully, Elhokar had-\n\n\"Are you a god!\" Elhokar bellowed.\n\nDalinar groaned, looking over his shoulder. The king had not fled. He strode toward the beast, hand to the side.\n\n\"I defy you, creature!\" Elhokar screamed. \"I claim your life! They will see their gods crushed, just as they will see their king dead at my feet! I defy you!\"\n\nDamnation's own fool! Dalinar thought, rounding Gallant." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elhokar's Shardblade reformed in his hands, and he charged toward the monster's chest, his cracked shoulder leaking Stormlight. He got close and swung at the beast's torso, cutting free apiece of chitin-like a person's hair or nails, it could be cut by a Blade. Then Elhokar slammed his weapon into the monster's breast, seeking its heart.\n\nThe beast roared and shook, knocking Elhokar free. The king barely kept hold of his Blade. The beast spun. That movement, unfortunately, brought its tail at Dalinar. He cursed, yanking Gallant in a tight turn, but the tail came too quickly. It slammed into Gallant, and in a heartbeat Dalinar found himself rolling, Oathbringer tumbling from his fingers and slicing a gash in the stone ground before puffing to mist.\n\n\"Father!\" a distant voice yelled.\n\nDalinar came to rest on the stones, dizzy. He raised his head to see Gallant stumbling to his feet. Blessedly, the horse hadn't broken a leg, though the animal bled from scrapes and was favoring one leg.\n\n\"Away!\" Dalinar said. The command word would send the horse to safety. Unlike Elhokar, it would obey.\n\nDalinar climbed to his feet, unsteady. A scraping sound came from his left, and Dalinar spun just in time for the chasmfiend's tail to take him in the chest, tossing him backward.\n\nAgain the world lurched, and metal hit stone in a cacophony as he slid.\n\nNo! he thought, getting a gauntleted hand beneath himself and heaving, using the momentum of his slide to throw himself upright. As the sky spun, something seemed to right, as if the Plate itself knew which way was up. He landed-still moving, feet grinding on stone." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He got his balance, then charged toward the king, beginning the process of summoning his Shardblade again. Ten heartbeats. An eternity.\n\nThe archers continued to fire, and more than a few of their shafts bristled form the chasmfiend's face. It ignored them, though Sadeas's larger arrows still seemed to distract it. Adolin had sheared through another leg, and the creature lumbered uncertainly, eight of its fourteen legs dragging uselessly.\n\n\"Father!\"\n\nDalinar turned to see Renarin-dressed in a stiff blue Kholin uniform, with along coat buttoning to the neck-riding across the rocky ground. \"Father, are you well? Can I help?\"\n\n\"Fool boy!\" Dalinar said, pointing. \"Go!\"\n\n\"But-\"\n\n\"You're unarmored and unarmed!\" Dalinar bellowed. \"Get back before you get yourself killed!\"\n\nRenarin pulled his roan horse to a halt.\n\n\"GO!\"\n\nRenarin galloped away. Dalinar turned and ran toward Elhokar, Oathbringer misting into existence in his waiting hand. Elhokar continued to hack at the beast's lower torso, and sections of flesh blackened and died when the Shardblade struck. If he rammed the Shardblade in just right, he could stop the heart or lungs, but that would be difficult while the beast was upright.\n\nAdolin-stalwart as always-had dismounted beside the king. He tried to stop the claws, striking at them as they fell. Unfortunately, there were four claws and only one of Adolin. Two swung at him at once, and though Adolin sliced a chunk out of one, he didn't seethe other sweeping at his back." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dalinar called out too late. Shardplate snapped as the claw tossed Adolin into the air. He arced and hit in a tumble. His Plate didn't shatter, thank the Heralds, but the breastplate and side cracked widely, leaking trails of white smoke.\n\nAdolin rolled lethargically, hands moving. He was alive.\n\nNo time to think about him now. Elhokar was alone.\n\nThe beast struck, pounding the ground beside the king, knocking him off his feet. His blade vanished and Elhokar fell face-first on the stones.\n\nSomething changed inside of Dalinar. Reservations vanished. Other concerns became meaningless. His brother's son was in danger.\n\nHe had failed Gavilar, had lain drunk in his wine while his brother fought for his life. Dalinar should have been thereto defend him. Only two things remained of his beloved brother, two things that Dalinar could protect in a hope to earn some form of redemption: Gavilar's kingdom and Gavilar's son.\n\nElhokar was alone and in danger.\n\nNothing else mattered.\n\nAdolin shook his head, dazed. He slammed his visor up, taking a gasp of fresh air to clear his mind.\n\nFighting. They were fighting. He could hear men screaming, rocks shaking, an enormous bleating sound. He smelled something moldy. Greatshell blood.\n\nThe chasmfiend! he thought. Before his mind was even clear, Adolin began summoning his Blade again and forced himself to his hands and knees.\n\nThe monster loomed a short distance away, a dark shadow upon the sky. Adolin had fallen near its right side. As his vision lost its fuzziness, he saw that the king was down, and his armor was cracked from the blow he'd taken earlier." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The chasmfiend raised a massive claw, preparing to slam it down. Adolin knew-suddenly-that disaster was upon them. The king would be killed on a simple hunt. The kingdom would shatter, the highprinces divided, the one tenuous link that kept them together cutaway.\n\nNo! Adolin thought, stunned, still dazed, trying to stumble forward.\n\nAnd then he saw his father.\n\nDalinar charged toward the king, moving with a speed and grace no man-not even one wearing Shardplate-should be able to manage. He leaped over a rock shelf, then ducked and skidded beneath a claw swinging for him. Other men thought they understood Shardblades and Shardplate, but Dalinar Kholin... at times, he proved them all children.\n\nDalinar straightened and leaped-still moving forward-cresting by inches a second claw that smashed apart the rocky shelf behind him.\n\nIt was all just a moment. A breath. The third claw was falling toward the king, and Dalinar roared, leaping forward. He dropped his Blade-it hit the ground and puffed away-as he skidded beneath the falling claw. He raised his hands and-\n\nAnd he caught it. He bent beneath the blow, going down on one knee, and the air rang with a resounding clang of carapace against armor.\n\nBut he caught it.\n\nStormfather! Adolin thought, watching his father stand over the king, bowed beneath the enormous weight of a monster many times his size. Shocked archers hesitated. Sadeas lowered his grandbow. Adolin's breath caught in his chest.\n\nDalinar held back the claw and matched its strength, a figure in dark, silvery metal that almost seemed to glow. The beast trumpeted above, and Dalinar bellowed back a powerful, defiant yell." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In that moment, Adolin knew he was seeing him. The Blackthorn, the very man he'd been wishing he could fight alongside. The Plate of Dalinar's gauntlets and shoulders began to crack, webs of light moving down the ancient metal. Adolin finally shook himself into motion. I have to help!\n\nHis Shardblade formed in his hand and he scrambled to the side and sheared through the leg nearest to him. There was a crack in the air. With so many legs down, the beast's other legs couldn't hold its weight, particularly when it was trying so hard to crush Dalinar. The remaining legs on its right side snapped with a sickening crunch, spraying out violet ichor, and the beast toppled to the side.\n\nThe ground shook, nearly knocking Adolin to his knees. Dalinar tossed aside the now-limp claw, Stormlight from the many cracks steaming above him. Nearby, the king picked himself up off the ground-it had been mere seconds since he'd fallen.\n\nElhokar stumbled to his feet, looking at the fallen beast. Then he turned to his uncle, the Blackthorn.\n\nDalinar nodded thankfully to Adolin, then gestured sharply toward what passed for the beast's neck. Elhokar nodded, then summoned his Blade and rammed it deeply into the monster's flesh. The creature's uniform green eyes blackened and shriveled, smoke twisting into the air.\n\nAdolin walked up to join his father, watching as Elhokar plunged his Blade into the chasmfiend's chest. Now that the beast was dead, the Blade could cut its flesh. Violet ichor spurted out, and Elhokar dropped his blade and reached into the wound, questing with Plate-enhanced arms, grabbing something." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He ripped free the beast's gemheart-the enormous gemstone that grew within all chasmfiends. It was lumpy and uncut, but it was a pure emerald and as big as a man's head. It was the largest gemheart Adolin had ever seen, and even the small ones were worth a fortune.\n\nElhokar held aloft the grisly prize, golden gloryspren appearing around him, and the soldiers yelled in triumph." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The morning after his decision in the highstorm, Kaladin made certain to arise before the others. He threw off his blanket and strode through the room full of blanketed lumps. He didn't feel excited, but he did feel resolute. Determined to fight again.\n\nHe began that fight by throwing the door open to the sunlight. Groans and curses sounded behind him as the groggy bridgemen awoke. Kaladin turned toward them, hands on hips. Bridge Four currently had thirty-four members. That number fluctuated, but at least twenty-five were needed to carry the bridge. Anything below that, and the bridge would topple for certain. Sometimes, it did even with more members.\n\n\"Up and organize!\" Kaladin shouted in his best squadleader's voice. He shocked himself with the authority in it.\n\nThe men blinked bleary eyes.\n\n\"That means,\" Kaladin bellowed, \"out of the barrack and form ranks! You'll do it now, storm you, or I'll haul you out one by one myself!\"\n\nSyl fluttered down and landed on his shoulder, watching curiously. Some of the bridgemen sat up, staring at him, baffled. Others turned over in their blankets, putting their backs to him.\n\nKaladin took a deep breath. \"So be it.\" He strode into the room and chose a lean Alethi named Moash. He was a strongman; Kaladin needed an example, and one of the skinnier men like Dunny or Narm wouldn't do. Plus, Moash was one of those who'd turned over to go back to sleep.\n\nKaladin grabbed Moash by one arm and heaved, pulling with all his strength. Moash stumbled to his feet. He was a younger man, perhaps near Kaladin's age, and had a hawkish face." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Helping the author, keep the tale going.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, knights radiant\nAuthor: Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: The Way of Kings\nChapter: 38" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Could one man, even a lighteyes, own that much furniture? Where would he put it all? And there were people too. Dozens of them, riding in the wagons, walking in groups. There were also a dozen soldiers in gleaming breastplates and leather skirts. This lighteyes even had his own honor guard.\n\nEventually the procession reached the turn-off to Hearthstone. A man riding a horse led the carriage and its soldiers forward to the town while most of the wagons continued up to the manor. Kal grew increasingly excited as the carriage rolled slowly into place. Would he finally get to see areal, lighteyed hero? The word around town claimed it was likely that the new citylord would be someone King Gavilar or Highprince Sadeas had promoted because he'd distinguished himself in the wars to unite Alethkar.\n\nThe carriage turned sideways so that the door faced the crowd. The horses snorted and stomped the ground, and the carriage driver hopped down and quickly opened the door. A middle-aged man with a short, grey-streaked beard stepped out. He wore a ruffled violet coat, tailored so that it was short at the front-reaching only to his waist-but long at the back. Beneath it, he wore a golden takama, along, straight skirt that went down to his calves.\n\nA takama. Few wore them anymore, but old soldiers in town spoke of the days when they'd been popular as warrior's garb. Kal hadn't expected the takama to look so much like a woman's skirt, but still, it was a good sign. Roshone himself seemed a little too old, a little too flabby, to be a true soldier. But he wore a sword.\n\nThe lighteyed man scanned the crowd, a distasteful look on his face, as if he'd swallowed something bitter. Behind the man, two people peeked out. A younger man with a narrow face and an older woman with braided hair. Roshone studied the crowd, then shook his head and turned around to climb back in the carriage." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kal frowned. Wasn't he going to say anything? The crowd seemed to share Kal's shock; a few of them began whispering in anxiety.\n\n\"Brightlord Roshone!\" Kal's father called.\n\nThe crowd hushed. The lighteyed man glanced back. People shied away, and Kal found himself shrinking down beneath that harsh gaze. \"Who spoke?\" Roshone demanded, his voice a low baritone.\n\nLirin stepped forward, raising a hand. \"Brightlord. Was your trip pleasant? Please, can we show you the town?\"\n\n\"What is your name?\"\n\n\"Lirin, Brightlord. Hearthstone's surgeon.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" Roshone said. \"You're the one who let old Wistiow die.\" The brightlord's expression darkened. \"Ina way, it's your fault I'm in this pitiful, miserable quarter of the kingdom.\" He grunted, then climbed back in the carriage and slammed the door. Within seconds, the carriage driver had replaced the stairs, climbed into his place, and started turning the vehicle around.\n\nKal's father slowly let his arm fall to his side. The townspeople began to chatter immediately, gossiping about the soldiers, the carriage, the horses.\n\nKal sat down on his barrel. Well, he thought. I guess we could expect a warrior to be curt, right? The heroes from the legends weren't necessarily the polite types. Killing people and fancy talking didn't always go together, old Jarel had once told him.\n\nLirin walked back, his expression troubled.\n\n\"Well?\" Hesina said, trying to sound cheerful. \"What do you think? Did we throw the queen or the tower?\"\n\n\"Neither.\"\n\n\"Oh? And what did we throw instead?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I'm not sure,\" he said, glancing over his shoulder." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"A pair and a trio, maybe. Let's get back home.\"\n\nTien scratched his head in confusion, but the words weighed on Kal. The tower was three pairs in a game of breakneck. The queen was two trios. The first was an outright loss, the other an outright win.\n\nBut a pair and a trio, that was called the butcher. Whether you won or not would depend on the other throws you made.\n\nAnd, more importantly, on the throws of everyone else." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I stood in the darkened monastery chamber, \"\" Litima read, standing at the lectern with the tome open before her, \"\"its far reaches painted with pools of black where light did not wander. I sat on the floor, thinking of that dark, that Unseen. I could not know, for certain, what was hidden in that night. I suspected there were walls, sturdy and thick, but could I know without seeing? When all was hidden, what could a man rely upon as True? '\"\n\nLitima-one of Dalinar's scribes-was tall and plump and wore a violet silk gown with yellow trim. She read to Dalinar as he stood, regarding the maps on the wall of his sitting room. That room was fitted with handsome wood furnishings and fine woven rugs imported up from Marat. A crystal carafe of afternoon wine-orange, not intoxicating-sat on a high-legged serving table in the corner, sparkling with the light of the diamond spheres hanging in chandeliers above.\n\n\"\"Candle flames,\"\" Litima continued. The selection was from The Way of Kings, read from the very copy that Gavilar had once owned. \"\"A dozen candles burned themselves to death on the shelf before me. Each of my breaths made them tremble. To them, I was a behemoth, to frighten and destroy. And yet, if I strayed too close, they could destroy me. My invisible breath, the pulses of life that flowed in and out, could end them freely, while my fingers could not do the same without being repaid in pain.\"\"\n\nDalinar idly twisted his signet ring in thought; it was sapphire with his Kholin glyphpair on it. Renarin stood next to him, wearing a coat of blue and silver, golden knots on the shoulders marking him as a prince. Adolin wasn't there. Dalinar and he had been stepping gingerly around one another since their argument in the Gallery." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"\"I understood in a moment of stillness,\"\" Litima read." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"\"Those candle flames were like the lives of men. So fragile. So deadly. Left alone, they lit and warmed. Let run rampant, they would destroy the very things they were meant to illuminate. Embryonic bonfires, each bearing a seed of destruction so potent it could tumble cities and dash kings to their knees. In later years, my mind would return to that calm, silent evening, when I had stared at rows of living lights. And I would understand. To be given loyalty is to be infused like a gemstone, to be granted the frightful license to destroy not only one's self, but all within one's care.\"\"\n\nLitima fell still. It was the end of the sequence.\n\n\"Thank you, Brightness Litima,\" Dalinar said. \"That will do.\"\n\nThe woman bowed her head respectfully. She gathered her youthful ward from the side of the room and they withdrew, leaving the book on the lectern.\n\nThat sequence had become one of Dalinar's favorites. Listening to it often comforted him. Someone else had known, someone else had understood, how he felt. But today, it didn't bring the solace it usually did. It only reminded him of Adolin's arguments. None had been things Dalinar hadn't considered himself, but being confronted with them by someone he trusted had shaken everything. He found himself staring at his maps, smaller copies of those that hung in the Gallery. They had been recreated for him by the royal cartographer, Isasik Shulin.\n\nWhat if Dalinar's visions really were just phantasms? He'd often longed for the glory days of Alethkar's past. Were the visions his mind's answer to that, a subconscious way of letting himself be a hero, of giving himself justification for doggedly seeking his goals?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "A disturbing thought." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Looked at another way, those phantom commands to'unify\" sounded a great deal like what the Hierocracy had said when it had tried to conquer the world five centuries before.\n\nDalinar turned from his maps and walked across the room, his booted feet falling on a soft rug. Too nice a rug. He'd spent the better part of his life in one warcamp or another; he'd slept in wagons, stone barracks, and tents pulled tight against the leeward side of stone formations. Compared with that, his present dwelling was practically a mansion. He felt as if he should cast out all of this finery. But what would that accomplish?\n\nHe stopped at the lectern and ran his fingers along the thick pages filled with lines in violet ink. He couldn't read the words, but he could almost feel them, emanating from the page like Stormlight from a sphere. Were the words of this book the cause of his problems? The visions had started several months after he'd first listened to readings from it.\n\nHe rested his hand on the cold, ink-filled pages. Their homeland was stressed nearly to breaking, the war was stalled, and suddenly he found himself captivated by the very ideals and myths that had led to his brother's downfall. This was a time the Alethi needed the Blackthorn, not an old, tired soldier who fancied himself a philosopher.\n\nBlast it all, he thought. I thought I'd figured this out! He closed the leather-bound volume, the spine crackling. He carried it to the bookshelf and returned it to its place.\n\n\"Father?\" Renarin asked. \"Is there something I can do for you?\"\n\n\"I wish there were, son.\" Dalinar tapped the spine of the book lightly. \"It's ironic. This book was once considered one of the great masterpieces of political philosophy. Did you know that? Jasnah told me that kings around the world used to study it daily. Now, it is considered borderline blasphemous.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Renarin gave no reply.\n\n\"Regardless,\" Dalinar said, walking back to the wall map. \"Highprince Aladar refused my offer of an alliance, just as Roion did. Do you have a thought on whom should I approach next?\"\n\n\"Adolin says we should be far more worried about Sadeas's ploy to destroy us than we are.\"\n\nThe room fell silent. Renarin had a habit of doing that, felling conversations like an enemy archer hunting officers on the battlefield.\n\n\"Your brother is right to worry,\" Dalinar said. \"But moving against Sadeas would undermine Alethkar as a kingdom. For the same reason, Sadeas won't risk acting against us. He'll see.\"\n\nI hope.\n\nHorns suddenly sounded outside, their deep, resounding calls echoing. Dalinar and Renarin froze. Parshendi spotted on the Plains. A second set came. Twenty-third plateau of the second quadrant. Dalinar's scouts thought the contested plateau close enough for their forces to reach first.\n\nDalinar dashed across the room, all other thoughts discarded for the moment, his booted feet thumping on the thick rug. He threw open the door and charged down the Stormlight-illuminated hallway.\n\nThe war room door was open, and Teleb-highofficer on duty-saluted as Dalinar entered. Teleb was a straight-backed man with light green eyes. He kept his longhair in a braid and had a blue tattoo on his cheek, marking him as an Oldblood. At the side of the room, his wife, Kalami, sat behind along-legged desk on a high stool. She wore her dark hair with only two small side braids pinned up, the rest hanging down the back of her violet dress to brush the top of the stool. She was a historian of note, and had requested permission to record meetings like this one; she planned to scribe a history of the war." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Sir,\" Teleb said. \"A chasmfiend crawled atop the plateau here less than a quarter hour ago.\" He pointed to the battle map, which had glyphs marking each plateau. Dalinar stepped up to it, a group of his officers gathering around him.\n\n\"How far would you say that is?\" Dalinar asked, rubbing his chin.\n\n\"Perhaps two hours,\" Teleb said, indicating a route one of his men had drawn on the map. \"Sir, I think we have a good chance at this one. Brightlord Aladar will have to traverse six unclaimed plateaus to reach the contested area, while we have a nearly direct line. Brightlord Sadeas would have trouble, as he'd have to work his way around several large chasms too wide to cross with bridges. I'll bet he won't even try for it.\"\n\nDalinar did, indeed, have the most direct line. He hesitated, though. It had been months since he'd last gone on a plateau run. His attention had been diverted, his troops needed for protecting roadways and patrolling the large markets that had grownup outside the warcamps. And now, Adolin's questions weighed upon him, pressing him down. It seemed like a terrible time to go out to battle.\n\nNo, he thought. No, I need to do this. Winning a plateau skirmish would do much for his troops' morale, and would help discredit the rumors in camp.\n\n\"We march!\" Dalinar declared.\n\nA few of the officers whooped in excitement, an extreme show of emotion for the normally reserved Alethi.\n\n\"And your son, Brightlord?\" Teleb asked. He'd heard of the confrontation between them. Dalinar doubted there was a person in all ten warcamps who hadn't heard of it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Send for him,\" Dalinar said firmly. Adolin probably needed this as much as, or more than, Dalinar did.\n\nThe officers scattered. Dalinar's armor bearers entered a moment later. It had only been a few minutes since the horns had sounded, but after six years of fighting, the machine of war ran smoothly when battle called. From outside, he heard the horns\" third set begin, calling his forces to battle.\n\nThe armor bearers inspected his boots-checking to be certain the laces were tight-then brought along padded vest to throw over his uniform. Next, they set the sabatons-armor for his boots-on the floor before him. They encased his boots entirely and had a rough surface on the bottoms that seemed to cling to rock. The interiors glowed with the light of the sapphires in their indented pockets.\n\nDalinar was reminded of his most recent vision. The Radiant, his armor glowing with glyphs. Modern Shardplate didn't glow like that. Could his mind have fabricated that detail? Would it have?\n\nNo time to consider that now, he thought. He discarded his uncertainties and worries, something he'd learned to do during his first battles as a youth. A warrior needed to be focused. Adolin's questions would still be waiting for him when he got back. For now, he couldn't afford self-doubt or uncertainty. It was time to be the Blackthorn.\n\nHe stepped into the sabatons, and the straps tightened of their own accord, fitting around his boots. The greaves came next, going over his legs and knees, locking onto the sabatons. Shardplate wasn't like ordinary armor; there was no mesh of steel mail and no leather straps at the joints. Shardplate seams were made of smaller plates, interlocking, overlapping, incredibly intricate, leaving no vulnerable gaps. There was very little rubbing or chafing; each piece fit together perfectly, as if it had been crafted specifically for Dalinar." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "One always put the armor on from the feet upward. Shardplate was extremely heavy; without the enhanced strength it provided, no man would be able to fight in it. Dalinar stood still as the armor bearers affixed the cuisses over his thighs and locked them to the culet and faulds across his waist and lower back. A skirt made of small, interlocking plates came next, reaching down to just above the knees.\n\n\"Brightlord,\" Teleb said, stepping up to him. \"Have you given thought to my suggestion about the bridges?\"\n\n\"You know how I feel about man-carried bridges, Teleb,\" Dalinar said as the armor bearers locked his breastplate into place, then worked on the rerebraces and vambraces for his arms. Already, he could feel the strength of the Plate surging through him.\n\n\"We wouldn't have to use the smaller bridges for the assault,\" Teleb said. \"Just forgetting to the contested plateau.\"\n\n\"We'd still have to bring the chull-pulled bridges to get across that last chasm,\" Dalinar said. \"I'm not convinced that bridge crews would move us anymore quickly. Not when we have to wait for those animals.\"\n\nTeleb sighed.\n\nDalinar reconsidered. A good officer was one who accepted orders and fulfilled them, even when he disagreed. But the mark of a great officer was that he also tried to innovate and offer appropriate suggestions.\n\n\"You may recruit and train a single bridge crew,\" Dalinar said. \"We shall see. In these races, even a few minutes can be meaningful.\"\n\nTeleb smiled. \"Thank you, sir.\"\n\nDalinar waved with his left hand as the armor bearers locked the gauntlet onto his right. He made a fist, tiny plates curving perfectly. The left gauntlet followed. Then the gorget went over his head, covering his neck, the pauldrons on his shoulders, and the helm on his head. Finally, the armor bearers affixed his cape to the pauldrons." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dalinar took a deep breath, feeling the Thrill build for the approaching battle. He strode from the war room, footfalls firm and solid. Attendants and servants scattered before him, making way. Wearing Shardplate again after along period without was like waking up after a night of feeling groggy or disoriented. The spring of the step, the impetus the armor seemed to lend him, made him want to race down the hallway and-\n\nAnd why not?\n\nHe broke into a sprint. Teleb and the others cried out in surprise, rushing to keep up. Dalinar outpaced them easily, reaching the front gates of the complex and leaping through, throwing himself off the long steps leading down from his enclave. He exulted, grinning as he hung in the air, then slammed to the ground. The force cracked the stone beneath him, and he crouched into the impact.\n\nBefore him, neat rows of barracks ran through his warcamp, formed in radials with a meeting ground and mess hall at the center of each battalion. His officers reached the top of the stairs, looking down with amazement. Renarin was with them, wearing his uniform that had never seen battle, his hand raised against the sunlight.\n\nDalinar felt foolish. Was he a youth just given his first taste of Shardplate? Back to work. Stop playing.\n\nPerethom, his infantrylord, saluted as Dalinar strode up. \"Second and Third Battalions are on duty today, Brightlord. Forming ranks to march.\"\n\n\"First Bridge Squad is gathered, Brightlord,\" Havarah-the bridgelord-said, striding up. He was a short man, with some Herdazian blood in him as evidenced by his dark, crystalline fingernails, though he didn't wear a spark-flicker. \"I have word from Ashelem that the archery company is ready.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Cavalry?\" Dalinar asked. \"And where is my son?\"\n\n\"Here, Father,\" called a familiar voice. Adolin-his Shardplate painted a deep Kholin blue-made his way through the gathering crowd. His visor was up, and he looked eager, though when he met Dalinar's eyes, he glanced away immediately.\n\nDalinar held up a hand, quieting several officers who were trying to give him reports. He strode to Adolin, and the youth looked up, meeting his gaze.\n\n\"You said what you felt you must,\" Dalinar said.\n\n\"And I'm not sorry I did,\" Adolin replied. \"But I am sorry for how, and where, I said it. That won't happen again.\"\n\nDalinar nodded, and that was enough. Adolin seemed to relax, a weight coming off his shoulders, and Dalinar turned back to his officers. In moments, he and Adolin were leading a hurried group to the staging area. As they did, Dalinar did note Adolin waving to a young woman who stood beside the way, wearing a red dress, her hair up in a very nice braiding.\n\n\"Is that-er-\"\n\n\"Malasha?\" Adolin said. \"Yes.\"\n\n\"She looks nice.\"\n\n\"Most of the time she is, though she's somewhat annoyed that I wouldn't let her come with me today.\"\n\n\"She wanted to come into battle?\"\n\nAdolin shrugged. \"Says she's curious.\"\n\nDalinar said nothing. Battle was a masculine art. A woman wanting to come to the battlefield was like... well, like a man wanting to read. Unnatural.\n\nAhead, in the staging area, the battalions were forming ranks, and a squat lighteyed officer hurried up to Dalinar. He had patches of red hair on his otherwise dark Alethi head and along, red mustache. Ilamar, the cavalrylord." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Brightlord,\" he said, \"my apologies for the delay. Cavalry is mounted and ready.\"\n\n\"We march, then,\" Dalinar said. \"All ranks-\"\n\n\"Brightlord!\" a voice said.\n\nDalinar turned as one of his messengers approached. The darkeyed man wore leathers marked with blue bands on the arms. He saluted, saying, \"Highprince Sadeas has demanded admittance to the warcamp!\"\n\nDalinar glanced at Adolin. His son's expression darkened.\n\n\"He claims the king's writ of investigation grants him the right,\" the messenger said.\n\n\"Admit him,\" Dalinar said.\n\n\"Yes, Brightlord,\" the messenger said, turning back. One of the lesser officers, Moratel, went with him so that Sadeas could be welcomed and escorted by a lighteyes as befitted his station. Moratel was least among those in attendance; everyone understood he was the one Dalinar would send.\n\n\"What do you think Sadeas wants this time?\" Dalinar said quietly to Adolin.\n\n\"Our blood. Preferably warm, perhaps sweetened with a shot of tallew brandy.\"\n\nDalinar grimaced, and the two of them hurried past the ranks of soldiers. The men had an air of anticipation, spears held high, darkeyed citizen officers standing at the sides with axes on their shoulders. At the front of the force, a group of chulls snorted and rummaged at the rocks by their feet; harnessed to them were several enormous mobile bridges.\n\nGallant and Adolin's white stallion Sureblood were waiting, their reins held at the ready by grooms. Ryshadium hardly needed handlers. Once, Gallant had kicked open his stall and made his way to the staging grounds on his own when a groom had been too slow. Dalinar patted the midnight destrier on the neck, then swung into the saddle." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He scanned the staging field, then raised his arm to give the command to move. However, he noticed a group of mounted men riding up to the staging field, led by a figure in dark red Shardplate. Sadeas.\n\nDalinar stifled a sigh and gave the command to move out, though he himself waited for the Highprince of Information. Adolin came over on Sureblood, and he gave Dalinar a glance that seemed to say, \"Don't worry, I'll behave.\"\n\nAs always, Sadeas was a model of fashion, his armor painted, his helm ornamented with a completely different metallic pattern than he had worn last time. This one was shaped like a stylized sunburst. It looked almost like a crown.\n\n\"Brightlord Sadeas,\" Dalinar said. \"This is an inconvenient time for your investigation.\"\n\n\"Unfortunately,\" Sadeas said, reining in. \"His Majesty is very eager to have answers, and I cannot stop my investigation, even fora plateau assault. I need to interview some of your soldiers. I'll do it on the way out.\"\n\n\"You want to come with us?\"\n\n\"Why not? I won't delay you.\" He glanced at the chulls, who lurched into motion, pulling the bulky bridges. \"I doubt that even were Ito decide to crawl, I could slow you any further.\"\n\n\"Our soldiers need to concentrate on the upcoming battle, Brightlord,\" Adolin said. \"They should not be distracted.\"\n\n\"The king's will must be done,\" Sadeas said, shrugging, not even bothering to look at Adolin. \"Need I present the writ? Surely you don't intend to forbid me.\"\n\nDalinar studied his former friend, looking into those eyes, trying to see into the man's soul. Sadeas lacked his characteristic smirk; he usually wore one of those when he was pleased with how a plot was going. Did he realize that Dalinar knew how to read his expressions, and so masked his emotions? \"No need to present anything, Sadeas. My men are at your disposal. If you have need of anything, simply ask. Adolin, with me.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Dalinar turned Gallant and galloped down the line toward the front of the marching army." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Adolin followed reluctantly, and Sadeas remained behind with his attendants.\n\nThe long ride began. The permanent bridges here were Dalinar's, maintained and guarded by his soldiers and scouts, connecting plateaus that he controlled. Sadeas spent the trip riding near the middle of the column of two thousand. He periodically sent an attendant to pull certain soldiers out of line.\n\nDalinar spent the ride mentally preparing himself for the battle ahead. He spoke with his officers about the layout of the plateau, got a report on where specifically the chasmfiend had chosen to make its chrysalis, and sent scouts ahead to watch for Parshendi. Those scouts carried their long poles to get them from plateau to plateau without bridges.\n\nDalinar's force eventually reached the end of the permanent bridges, and had to start waiting for the chull bridges to be lowered across the chasms. The big machines were built like siege towers, with enormous wheels and armored sections at the side where soldiers could push. At a chasm, they unhooked the chulls, pushed the machine forward by hand, and ratcheted a crank at the back to lower the bridge. Once the bridge was set down, the machinery was unlocked and pulled across. The bridge was built so they could lock the machine onto the other side, pull the bridge up, then turn and hook the chulls up again.\n\nIt was a slow process. Dalinar watched from horseback, fingers tapping the side of his hogshide saddle as the first chasm was spanned. Perhaps Teleb was right. Could they use lighter, more portable bridges to get across these early chasms, then resort to the siege bridges only for the final assault?\n\nA clatter of hooves on rock announced someone riding up the side of the column. Dalinar turned, expecting Adolin, and instead found Sadeas." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Why had Sadeas asked to be Highprince of Information, and why was he so dogged in pursuing this matter of the broken girth?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If he did decide to create some kind of false implication of Dalinar's guilt...\n\nThe visions told me to trust him, Dalinar told himself firmly. But he was growing less certain about them. How much dared he risk on what they'd said?\n\n\"Your soldiers are quite loyal to you,\" Sadeas noted as he arrived.\n\n\"Loyalty is the first lesson of a soldier's life,\" Dalinar said. \"I would be worried if these men hadn't yet mastered it.\"\n\nSadeas sighed. \"Really, Dalinar. Must you always be so sanctimonious?\"\n\nDalinar didn't reply.\n\n\"It's odd, how a leader's influence can affect his men,\" Sadeas said. \"So many of these are like smaller versions of you. Bundles of emotion, wrapped up and tied until they become stiff from the pressure. They're so sure in someways, yet so insecure in others.\"\n\nDalinar kept his jaw clenched. What is your game, Sadeas?\n\nSadeas smiled, leaning in, speaking softly. \"You want so badly to snap at me, don't you? Even in the old days, you hated it when someone implied that you were insecure. Back then, your displeasure often ended with ahead or two rolling across the stones.\"\n\n\"I killed many who did not deserve death,\" Dalinar said. \"A man should not fear losing his head because he took one too many sips of wine.\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" Sadeas said lightly. \"But don't you ever want to let it out, as you used to? Doesn't it pound on you inside, like someone trapped within a large drum? Beating, banging, trying to claw free?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Dalinar said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The admission seemed to surprise Sadeas. \"And the Thrill, Dalinar. Do you still feel the Thrill?\"\n\nMen didn't often speak of the Thrill, the joy and lust for battle. It was a private thing. \"I feel each of the things you mention, Sadeas,\" Dalinar said, eyes forward. \"But I don't always let them out. A man's emotions are what define him, and control is the hallmark of true strength. To lack feeling is to be dead, but to act on every feeling is to be a child.\"\n\n\"That has the stink of a quote about it, Dalinar. From Gavilar's little book of virtues, I assume?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Doesn't it bother you at all that the Radiants betrayed us?\"\n\n\"Legends. The Recreance is an event so old, it might as well be in the shadowdays. What did the Radiants really do? Why did they do it? We don't know.\"\n\n\"We know enough. They used elaborate tricks to imitate great powers and pretend a holy calling. When their deceptions were discovered, they fled.\"\n\n\"Their powers were not lies. They were real.\"\n\n\"Oh?\" Sadeas said, amused. \"You know this? Didn't you just say the event was so old, it might as well have been in the shadowdays? If the Radiants had such marvelous powers, why can nobody reproduce them? Where did those incredible skills go?\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" Dalinar said softly. \"Perhaps we're just not worthy of them any longer.\"\n\nSadeas snorted, and Dalinar wished he'd bitten his tongue. His only evidence for what he said was his visions. And yet, if Sadeas belittled something, he instinctively wanted to stand up for it." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I can't afford this. I need to be focused on the battle ahead.\n\n\"Sadeas,\" he said, determined to change the topic. \"We need to work harder to unify the warcamps. I want your help, now that you're Highprince of Information.\"\n\n\"To do what?\"\n\n\"To do what needs to be done. For the good of Alethkar.\"\n\n\"That's exactly what I'm doing, old friend,\" Sadeas said. \"Killing Parshendi. Winning glory and wealth for our kingdom. Seeking vengeance. It would be best for Alethkar if you'd stop wasting so much time in camp-and stop talking of fleeing like cowards. It would be best for Alethkar if you'd start acting like a man again.\"\n\n\"Enough, Sadeas!\" Dalinar said, more loudly than he'd intended. \"I gave you leave to come along for your investigation, not to taunt me!\"\n\nSadeas sniffed. \"That book ruined Gavilar. Now it's doing the same to you. You've listened to those stories so much they've got your head full of false ideals. Nobody ever really lived the way the Codes claim.\"\n\n\"Bah!\" Dalinar said, waving a hand and turning Gallant. \"I don't have time for your snideness today, Sadeas.\" He trotted his horse away, furious at Sadeas, then even more furious at himself for losing his temper.\n\nHe crossed the bridge, stewing, thinking of Sadeas's words. He found himself remembering a day when he stood with his brother beside the Impossible Falls of Kholinar.\n\nThings are different now, Dalinar, Gavilar had said. I see now, in ways I never did before. I wish I could show you what I mean." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It had been three days before his death.\n\nTen heartbeats.\n\nDalinar closed his eyes, breathing in and out-slowly, calmingly-as they prepared themselves behind the siege bridge. Forget Sadeas. Forget the visions. Forget his worries and fears. Just focus on the heartbeats.\n\nNearby, chulls scraped the rock with their hard, carapaced feet. The wind blew across his face, smelling wet. It always smelled wet out here, in these humid stormlands.\n\nSoldiers clanked, leather creaked. Dalinar raised his head toward the sky, his heart thumping deep within him. The brilliant white sun stained his eyelids red.\n\nMen shifted, called, cursed, loosened swords in their sheaths, tested bowstrings. He could feel their tension, their anxiety mixed with excitement. Among them, anticipationspren began to spring from the ground, streamers connected by one side to the stone, the others whipping in the air. Some fearspren boiled up among them.\n\n\"Are you ready?\" Dalinar asked softly. The Thrill was rising within him.\n\n\"Yes.\" Adolin's voice was eager.\n\n\"You never complain about the way we attack,\" Dalinar said, eyes still closed. \"You never challenge me on this.\"\n\n\"This is the best way. They're my men too. What is the point of being a Shardbearer if we cannot lead the charge?\"\n\nThe tenth heartbeat sounded in Dalinar's chest; he could always hear the beats when he was summoning his Blade, no matter how loud the world around him was. The faster they passed, the sooner the blade arrived. So the more urgent you felt, the sooner you were armed. Was that intentional, or just some quirk of the Shardblade's nature?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Oathbringer's familiar weight settled into his hand.\n\n\"Go,\" Dalinar said, snapping his eyes open. He slammed his visor down as Adolin did the same, Stormlight rising from the sides as the helms sealed shut and became translucent. The two of them burst out from behind the massive bridge-one Shardbearer on each side, a figure of blue and another of slate grey.\n\nThe energy of the armor pulsed through Dalinar as he dashed across the stone ground, arms pumping in rhythm with his steps. The wave of arrows came immediately, loosed from the Parshendi kneeling on the other side of the chasm. Dalinar flung his arm up in front of his eye slit as arrows sprayed across him, scraping metal, some shafts snapping. It felt like running against a hailstorm.\n\nAdolin bellowed a war cry from the right, voice muffled by his helm. As they approached the chasm lip, Dalinar lowered his arm despite the arrows. He needed to be able to judge his approach. The gulf was mere feet away. His Plate gave him a surge of strength as he reached the edge of the chasm.\n\nThen leaped.\n\nFora moment, he soared above the inky chasm, cape flapping, arrows filling the air around him. He was reminded of the flying Radiant from his vision. But this was nothing so mystical, just a standard Shardplate-assisted jump. Dalinar cleared the chasm and crashed back to the ground on the other side, sweeping his Blade down and across to slay three Parshendi with a single blow.\n\nTheir eyes burned black and smoke rose as they collapsed. He swung again. Bits of armor and weapons sprayed into the air where arrows had once flown, sheared free by his Blade. As always, it sliced apart anything inanimate, but blurred when it touched flesh, as if turning to mist." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The way it reacted to flesh and cut steel so easily, it sometimes felt to Dalinar like he was swinging a weapon of pure smoke." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As long as he kept the Blade in motion, it could not get caught in chinks or stopped by the weight of what it was cutting.\n\nDalinar spun, sweeping outwith his Blade in a line of death. He sheared through souls themselves, leaving Parshendi to drop dead to the ground. Then he kicked, tossing a corpse into the faces of the Parshendi nearby. A few more kicks sent corpses flying-a Plate-driven kick could easily send a body tumbling thirty feet-clearing the ground around him for better footing.\n\nAdolin hit the plateau not faraway, spinning and falling into Windstance. Adolin shoved his shoulder into a group of archers, tossing them backward and throwing several into the chasm. Gripping his Shardblade with both hands, he did an initial sweep as Dalinar had, cutting down six enemies.\n\nThe Parshendi were singing, many of them wearing beards that glowed with small uncut gemstones. Parshendi always sang as they fought; that song changed as they abandoned their bows-pulling out axes, swords, or maces-and threw themselves at the two Shardbearers.\n\nDalinar put himself at the optimal distance from Adolin, allowing his son to protect his blind spots, but not getting too close. The two Shardbearers fought, still near the lip of the chasm, cutting down the Parshendi who tried desperately to push them backward by sheer force of numbers. This was their best chance to defeat the Shardbearers. Dalinar and Adolin were alone, without their honor guard. A fall from this height would certainly kill even a man in Plate.\n\nThe Thrill rose within him, so sweet. Dalinar kicked away another corpse, though he didn't need the extra room. They'd noticed that the Parshendi grew enraged when you moved their dead. He kicked another body, taunting them, drawing them toward him to fight in pairs as they often did." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He cut down a group that came, singing invoices angry at what he'd done to their dead. Nearby, Adolin began to layabout him with punches as the Parshendi got too close; he was fond of the tactic, switching between using his sword in two hands or one. Parshendi corpses flew this way and that, bones and armor shattered by the blows, orange Parshendi blood spraying across the ground. Adolin moved back to his Blade a moment later, kicking away a corpse.\n\nThe Thrill consumed Dalinar, giving him strength, focus, and power. The glory of the battle grew grand. He'd stayed away from this too long. He saw with clarity now. They did need to push harder, assault more plateaus, win the gemhearts.\n\nDalinar was the Blackthorn. He was a natural force, never to be halted. He was death itself. He-\n\nHe felt a sudden stab of powerful revulsion, a sickness so strong that it made him gasp. He slipped, partially on a patch of blood, but partially because his knees grew suddenly weak.\n\nThe corpses before him suddenly seemed a horrifying sight. Eyes burned out like spent coals. Bodies limp and broken, bones shattered where Adolin had punched them. Heads cracked open, blood and brains and entrails spilled around them. Such butchery, such death. The Thrill vanished.\n\nHow could a man enjoy this?\n\nThe Parshendi surged toward him. Adolin was therein a heartbeat, attacking with more skill than any other man Dalinar had known. The lad was a genius with the Blade, an artist with paint of only one shade. He struck expertly, forcing the Parshendi back. Dalinar shook his head, recovering his stance." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He forced himself to resume fighting, and as the Thrill began to rise again, Dalinar hesitantly embraced it. The odd sickness faded, and his battle reflexes took control. He spun into the Parshendi advance, sweeping outwith his Blade in broad, aggressive strokes.\n\nHe needed this victory. For himself, for Adolin, and for his men. Why had he been so horrified? The Parshendi had murdered Gavilar. It was right to kill them.\n\nHe was a soldier. Fighting was what he did. And he did it well.\n\nThe Parshendi advance unit broke before his assault, scattering back toward a larger mass of their troops, who were forming ranks in haste. Dalinar stepped back and found himself looking down at the corpses around him, with their blackened eyes. Smoke still curled from a few.\n\nThe sick feeling returned.\n\nLife ended so quickly. The Shardbearer was destruction incarnate, the most powerful force on a battlefield. Once these weapons meant protecting, a voice inside of him whispered.\n\nThe three bridges crashed to the ground a few feet away, and the cavalry charged across a moment later, led by compact Ilamar. A few windspren danced past in the air, nearly invisible. Adolin called for his horse, but Dalinar just stood, looking down at the dead. Parshendi blood was orange, and it smelled like mold. Yet their faces-marbled black or white and red-looked so human. A parshman nurse had practically raised Dalinar.\n\nLife before death.\n\nWhat was that voice?\n\nHe glanced back across the chasm, toward where Sadeas-well outside of bow range-sat with his attendants. Dalinar could sense the disapproval in his ex-friend's posture. Dalinar and Adolin risked themselves, taking a dangerous leap across the chasm. An assault of the type Sadeas had pioneered would cost more lives. But how many lives would Dalinar's army lose if one of its Shardbearers was pushed into the chasm?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Gallant charged across the bridge alongside a line of soldiers, who cheered for the Ryshadium." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He slowed near Dalinar, who grabbed the reins. Right now, he was needed. His men were fighting and dying, and this was not a time for regret or second-guessing.\n\nA Plate-enhanced jump put him in the saddle. Then, Shardblade raised high, he charged into battle to kill for his men. That was not what the Radiants had fought for. But at least it was something.\n\nThey won the battle.\n\nDalinar stepped back, feeling fatigued as Adolin did the honors of harvesting the gemheart. The chrysalis itself sat like an enormous, oblong rockbud, fifteen feet tall and attached to the uneven stone ground by something that looked like crem. There were bodies all around it, some human, others Parshendi. The Parshendi had tried to get into it quickly and flee, but they'd only managed to get a few cracks into the shell.\n\nThe fighting had been most furious here, around the chrysalis. Dalinar rested back against a shelf of rock and pulled his helm off, exposing a sweaty head to the cool breeze. The sun was high overhead; the battle had lasted two hours or so.\n\nAdolin worked efficiently, using his Shardblade with care to shave off a section of the outside of the chrysalis. Then he expertly plunged it in, killing the pupating creature but avoiding the region with the gemheart.\n\nJust like that, the creature was dead. Now the Shardblade could cut it, and Adolin carved away sections of flesh. Purple ichor spurted out as he reached in, questing for the gemheart. The soldiers cheered as he pulled it free, gloryspren hovering above the entire army like hundreds of spheres of light.\n\nDalinar found himself walking away, helm held in his left hand. He crossed the battlefield, passing surgeons tending the wounded and teams who were carrying his dead back to the bridges. There were sleds behind the chull carts for them, so they could be burned properly back at camp." }, { "from": "human", "value": "There were a lot of Parshendi corpses." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Looking at them now, he was neither disgusted nor excited. Just exhausted.\n\nHe'd gone to battle dozens, perhaps hundreds of times. Never before had he felt as he had this day. That revulsion had distracted him, and that could have gotten him killed. Battle was no time for reflection; you had to keep your mind on what you were doing.\n\nThe Thrill had seemed subdued the entire battle, and he hadn't fought nearly as well as he once had. This battle should have brought him clarity. Instead, his troubles seemed magnified. Blood of my fathers, he thought, stepping up to the top of a small rock hill. What is happening tome?\n\nHis weakness today seemed the latest, and most potent, argument to fuel what Adolin-and, indeed, what many others-said about him. He stood atop the hill, looking eastward, toward the Origin. His eyes went that direction so often. Why? What was-\n\nHe froze, noticing a group of Parshendi on a nearby plateau. His scouts watched them warily; it was the army that Dalinar's people had driven off. Though they'd killed a lot of Parshendi today, the vast majority had still escaped, retreating when they realized the battle was lost to them. That was one of the reasons the war was lasting so long. The Parshendi understood strategic retreat.\n\nThis army stood in ranks, grouped in warpairs. A commanding figure stood at their head, a large Parshendi in glittering armor. Shardplate. Even at a distance, it was easy to tell the difference between it and something more mundane.\n\nThat Shardbearer hadn't been here during the battle itself. Why come now? Had he arrived too late?\n\nThe armored figure and the rest of the Parshendi turned and left, leaping across the chasm behind them and fleeing back toward their unseen haven at the center of the Plains." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kaladin pushed his way into the apothecary's shop, the door banging shut behind him. As before, the aged man pretended to be feeble, feeling his way with a cane until he recognized Kaladin. Then he stood up straighter. \"Oh. It's you.\"\n\nIt had been two more long days. Daytime spent working and training-Teft and Rock now practiced with him-evenings spent at the first chasm, retrieving the reeds from their hiding place in a crevice and then milking for hours. Gaz had seen them go down last night, and the bridge sergeant was undoubtedly suspicious. There was no helping that.\n\nBridge Four had been called out on abridge run today. Thankfully, they'd arrived before the Parshendi, and none of the bridge crews had lost any men. Things hadn't gone so well for the regular Alethi troops. The Alethi line had eventually buckled before the Parshendi assault, and the bridge crews had been forced to lead a tired, angry, and defeated troop of soldiers back to the camp.\n\nKaladin was bleary-eyed with fatigue from staying up late working on the reeds. His stomach growled perpetually from being given a fraction of the food it needed, as he shared his meals with two wounded. That all ended today. The apothecary walked back behind his counter, and Kaladin stepped up to it. Syl darted into the room, her small ribbon of light turning into a woman midtwist. She flipped like an acrobat, landing on the table in a smooth motion.\n\n\"What do you need?\" the apothecary asked. \"More bandages? Well, I might just-\"\n\nHe cutoff as Kaladin slapped a medium-sized liquor bottle down on the table. It had a cracked top, but would still hold a cork. He pulled this free, revealing the milky white knobweed sap inside. He'd used the first of what they'd harvested to treat Leyten, Dabbid, and Hobber." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"What's this?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "the elderly apothecary asked, adjusting his spectacles and leaning down. \"Offering me a drink? I don't take the stuff these days. Unsettles the stomach, you know.\"\n\n\"It's not liquor. It's knobweed sap. You said it was expensive. Well, how much will you give me for this?\"\n\nThe apothecary blinked, then leaned in closer, giving the contents a whiff. \"Where'd you get this?\"\n\n\"I harvested it from the reeds growing outside of camp.\"\n\nThe apothecary's expression darkened. He shrugged. \"Worthless, I'm afraid.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"The wild weeds aren't potent enough.\" The apothecary replaced the cork. A strong wind buffeted the building, blowing under the door, stirring the scents of the many powders and tonics he sold. \"This is practically useless. I'll give you two clearmarks for it, which is being generous. I'll have to distill it, and will be lucky to get a couple of spoonfuls.\"\n\nTwo marks! Kaladin thought with despair. After three days of work, three of us pushing ourselves, getting only a few hours of sleep each night? All for something worth only a couple days' wage?\n\nBut no. The sap had worked on Leyten's wound, making the rotspren flee and the infection retreat. Kaladin narrowed his eyes as the apothecary fished two marks out of his money pouch, setting them on the table. Like many spheres, these were flattened slightly on one side to keep them from rolling away.\n\n\"Actually,\" the apothecary said, rubbing his chin. \"I'll give you three.\" He took out one more mark. \"Hate to see all of your effort go to waste.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Kaladin,\" Syl said, studying the apothecary. \"He's nervous about something. I think he's lying!\"\n\n\"I know,\" Kaladin said.\n\n\"What's that?\" the apothecary said. \"Well, if you knew it was worthless, why did you spend so much effort on it?\" He reached for the bottle.\n\nKaladin caught his hand. \"We got two or more drops from each reed, you know.\"\n\nThe apothecary frowned.\n\n\"Last time,\" Kaladin said, \"you told me I'd be lucky to get one dropper reed. You said that was why knobweed sap was so expensive. You said nothing about'wild' plants being weaker.\"\n\n\"Well, I didn't think you'd go and try gathering them, and...\" He trailed off as Kaladin locked eyes with him.\n\n\"The army doesn't know, do they?\" Kaladin asked. \"They aren't aware how valuable those plants outside are. You harvest them, you sell the sap, and you make a killing, since the military needs a lot of antiseptic.\"\n\nThe old apothecary cursed, pulling his hand back. \"I don't know what you're talking about.\"\n\nKaladin took his jar. \"And if I go to the healing tent and tell them where I got this?\"\n\n\"They'd take it from you!\" the man said urgently. \"Don't be a fool. You've a slave brand, boy. They'll think you stole it.\"\n\nKaladin moved to walkaway.\n\n\"I'll give a skymark,\" the apothecary said. \"That's half what I'd charge the military for this much.\"\n\nKaladin turned. \"You charge them two skymarks for something that only takes a couple of days to gather?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It's not just me,\" the apothecary said, scowling. \"Each of the apothecaries charges the same. We got together, decided on a fair price.\"\n\n\"How is that a fair price?\"\n\n\"We have to make a living here, in this Almighty-forsaken land! It costs us money to setup shop, to maintain ourselves, to hire guards.\"\n\nHe fished in his pouch, pulling out a sphere that glowed deep blue. A sapphire sphere was worth about twenty-five times a diamond one. As Kaladin made one diamond mark a day, a skymark was worth as much as Kaladin made in half a month. Of course, a common darkeyed soldier earned five clearmarks a day, which would make this a week's wages to them.\n\nOnce, this wouldn't have seemed like much money to Kaladin. Now it was a fortune. Still, he hesitated. \"I should expose you. Men die because of you.\"\n\n\"No they don't,\" the apothecary said. \"The highprinces have more than enough to pay this, considering what they make on the plateaus. We supply them with bottles of sap as often as they need them. All you'd do by exposing us islet monsters like Sadeas keep a few more spheres in their pockets!\"\n\nThe apothecary was sweating. Kaladin was threatening to topple his entire business on the Shattered Plains. And so much money was being earned on the sap that this could grow very dangerous. Men killed to keep such secrets.\n\n\"Line my pocket or line the brightlords\",\" Kaladin said. \"I guess I can't argue with that logic.\" He set the bottle back on the counter. \"I'll take the deal, provided you throw in some more bandages.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Very well,\" the apothecary said, relaxing. \"But stay away from those reeds. I'm surprised you found any nearby that hadn't already been harvested. My workers are having an increasingly difficult time.\"\n\nThey don't have a windspren guiding them, Kaladin thought. \"Then why would you want to discourage me? I could get more of this for you.\"\n\n\"Well, yes,\" the apothecary said. \"But-\"\n\n\"It's cheaper if you do it yourself,\" Kaladin said, leaning down. \"But this way you have a clean trail. I provide the sap, charging one skymark. If the lighteyes ever discover what the apothecaries have been doing, you can claim ignorance-all you know is that some bridgeman was selling you sap, and you resold it to the army at a reasonable markup.\"\n\nThat seemed to appeal to the old man. \"Well, perhaps I won't ask too many questions about how you harvested this. Your business, young man. Your business indeed....\" He shuffled to the back of his store, returning with a box of bandages. Kaladin accepted it and left the shop without a word.\n\n\"Aren't you worried?\" Syl said, floating up beside his head as he entered the afternoon sunlight. \"If Gaz discovers what you're doing, you could get into trouble.\"\n\n\"What more could they do tome?\" Kaladin asked. \"I doubt they'd consider this a crime worth stringing me up for.\"\n\nSyl looked backward, forming into little more than a cloud with the faint suggestion of a female form. \"I can't decide if it's dishonest or not.\"\n\n\"It's not dishonest; it's business.\" He grimaced. \"Lavis grain is sold the same way. Grown by the farmers and sold at a pittance to merchants, who carry it to the cities and sell it to other merchants, who sell it to people for four or five times what it was originally bought for.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So why did it bother you?\" Syl asked, frowning as they avoided a troop of soldiers, one of whom tossed the pit of a palafruit at Kaladin's head. The soldiers laughed.\n\nKaladin rubbed his temple. \"I've still got some strange scruples about charging for medical care because of my father.\"\n\n\"He sounds like he's a very generous man.\"\n\n\"For all the good it did him.\"\n\nOf course, in away, Kaladin was just as bad. During his early days as a slave, he'd have done almost anything fora chance to walk around unsupervised like this. The army perimeter was guarded, but if he could sneak the knobweed in, he could probably find away to sneak himself out.\n\nWith that sapphire mark, he even had money to aid him. Yes, he had the slave brand, but some quick if painful work with a knife could turn that into a'battle scar\" instead. He could talk and fight like a soldier, so it would be plausible. He'd betaken fora deserter, but he could live with that.\n\nThat had been his plan for most of the later months of his enslavement, but he'd never had the means. It took money to travel, to get far enough away from the area where his description would be in circulation. Money to buy lodging in a seedy section of town, a place where nobody asked questions, while he healed from his self-inflicted wound.\n\nIn addition, there had always been the others. So he'd stayed, trying to get as many out as he could. Failing every time. And he was doing it again.\n\n\"Kaladin?\" Syl asked from his shoulder. \"You look very serious. What are you thinking?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I'm wondering if I should run." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Escape this storm-cursed camp and find myself anew life.\"\n\nSyl fell silent. \"Life is hard here,\" she finally said. \"I don't know if anyone would blame you.\"\n\nRock would, he thought. And Teft. They'd worked for that knobweed sap. They didn't know what it was worth; they thought it was only for healing the sick. If he ran, he'd be betraying them. He'd be abandoning the bridgemen.\n\nShove over, you fool, Kaladin thought to himself. You won't save these bridgemen. Just like you didn't save Tien. You should run.\n\n\"And then what?\" he whispered.\n\nSyl turned to him. \"What?\"\n\nIf he ran, what good would it do? A life working for chips in the underbelly of some rotting city? No.\n\nHe couldn't leave them. Just like he'd never been able to leave anyone who he'd thought needed him. He had to protect them. He had to.\n\nFor Tien. And for his own sanity.\n\n\"Chasm duty,\" Gaz said, spitting to the side. The spittle was colored black from the yamma plant he chewed.\n\n\"What?\" Kaladin had returned from selling the knobweed to discover that Gaz had changed Bridge Four's work detail. They weren't scheduled to be on duty for any bridge runs-their run the day before exempted them. Instead, they were supposed to be assigned to Sadeas's smithy to help lift ingots and other supplies.\n\nThat sounded like difficult work, but it was actually among the easiest jobs bridgemen got. The blacksmiths felt they didn't need the extra hands. That, or they presumed that clumsy bridgemen would just get in the way. On smithy duty, you usually only worked a few hours of the shift and could spend the rest lounging." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Gaz stood with Kaladin in the early afternoon sunlight." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You see,\" Gaz said, \"you got me thinking the other day. Nobody cares if Bridge Four is given unfair work details. Everyone hates chasm duty. I figured you wouldn't care.\"\n\n\"How much did they pay you?\" Kaladin asked, stepping forward.\n\n\"Storm off,\" Gaz said, spitting again. \"The others resent you. It'll do your crew good to be seen paying for what you did.\"\n\n\"Surviving?\"\n\nGaz shrugged. \"Everyone knows you broke the rules in bringing back those men. If the others do what you did, we'd have each barrack filled with the dying before the leeward side of a month was over!\"\n\n\"They're people, Gaz. If we don't \"fill the barracks\" with wounded, it's because we're leaving them out thereto die.\"\n\n\"They'll die here anyway.\"\n\n\"We'll see.\"\n\nGaz watched him, eyes narrow. It seemed like he suspected that Kaladin had somehow tricked him in taking the stone-gathering duty. Earlier, Gaz had apparently gone down to the chasm, probably trying to figure out what Kaladin and the other two had been doing.\n\nDamnation, Kaladin thought. He'd thought he had Gaz cowed enough to stay inline. \"We'll go,\" Kaladin snapped, turning away. \"But I'm not taking the blame among my men for this one. They'll know you did it.\"\n\n\"Fine,\" Gaz called after him. Then, to himself, he continued, \"Maybe I'll get lucky and a chasmfiend will eat the lot of you.\"\n\nChasm duty. Most bridgemen would rather spend all day hauling stones than get assigned to the chasms.\n\nWith an unlit oil-soaked torch tied to his back, Kaladin climbed down the precarious rope ladder. The chasm was shallow here, only about fifty feet down, but that was enough to take him into a different world. A world where the only natural light came from the rift high in the sky. A world that stayed damp on even the hottest days, a drowned landscape of moss, fungus, and hardy plants that survived in even dim light." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The chasms were wider at the bottom, perhaps a result of highstorms. They caused enormous floods to crash through the chasms; to be caught in a chasm during a highstorm was death. A sediment of hardened crem smoothed the pathway on the floor of the chasms, though it rose and fell with the varying erosion of the underlying rock. In some few places, the distance from the chasm floor to the edge of the plateau above was only about forty feet. Inmost places, however, it was closer to a hundred or more.\n\nKaladin jumped off the ladder, falling a few feet and landing with a splash in a puddle of rainwater. After lighting the torch, he held it high, peering along the caliginous rift. The sides were slick with a dark green moss, and several thin vines he didn't recognize trailed down from intermediate ledges above. Bits of bone, wood, and torn cloth lay strewn about or wedged into clefts.\n\nSomeone splashed to the ground beside him. Teft cursed, looking down at his soaked legs and trousers as he stepped out of the large puddle. \"Storms take that cremling Gaz,\" the aging bridgeman muttered. \"Sending us down here when it isn't our turn. I'll have his beans for this.\"\n\n\"I am certain that he is very scared of you,\" Rock said, stepping down off the ladder onto a dry spot. \"Is probably back in camp crying in fear.\"\n\n\"Storm off,\" Teft said, shaking the water from his left leg. The two of them carried unlit torches. Kaladin lit his with a flint and steel, but the others did not. They needed to ration the torches.\n\nThe other men of Bridge Four began to gather near the bottom of the ladder, staying in a clump. Every fourth man lit his torch, but the light didn't do much to dispel the gloom; it just allowed Kaladin to see more of the unnatural landscape. Strange, tube-shaped fungi grew in cracks. They were a wan yellow, like the skin of a child with jaundice. Scuttling cremlings moved away from the light. The tiny crustaceans were a translucent reddish color; as one scrambled past on the wall, he realized that he could see its internal organs through its shell." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The light also revealed a twisted, broken figure at the base of the chasm wall a short distance away. Kaladin raised his torch and stepped up to it. It was beginning to stink already. He raised a hand, unconsciously covering his nose and mouth as he knelt down.\n\nIt was a bridgeman, or had been, from one of the other crews. He was fresh. If he'd been here longer than a few days, the highstorm would have washed him away to some distant place. Bridge Four gathered behind Kaladin, looking silently at the one who had chosen to throw himself into the chasm.\n\n\"May you someday find a place of honor in the Tranquiline Halls, fallen brother,\" Kaladin said, his voice echoing. \"And may we find a better end than you.\" He stood, holding his torch high, and led the way past the dead sentry. His crew followed nervously.\n\nKaladin had quickly understood the basic tactics of fighting on the Shattered Plains. You wanted to advance forcefully, pressing your enemy to the plateau's edge. That was why the battles often turned bloody for the Alethi, who usually arrived after the Parshendi.\n\nThe Alethi had bridges, while these odd Eastern parshmen could leap most chasms, given a running start. But both had trouble when squeezed toward the cliffs, and that generally resulted in soldiers losing their footing and tumbling into the void. The numbers were significant enough for the Alethi to want to recover lost equipment. And so bridgemen were sent on chasm duty. It was like barrow robbing, only without the barrows.\n\nThey carried sacks, and would spend hours walking around, looking for the corpses of the fallen, searching for anything of value. Spheres, breastplates, caps, weapons. Some days, when a plateau run was recent, they could try to make their way all the way out to where it had happened and scavenge from those bodies. But highstorms generally made that futile. Wait even a few days, and the bodies would be washed someplace else." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Beyond that, the chasms were a bewildering maze, and getting to a specific contested plateau and then returning in a reasonable time was near impossible. General wisdom was to wait fora highstorm to push the bodies toward the Alethi side of the Plains-highstorms always came east to west, after all-and then send bridgemen down to search them out.\n\nThat meant a lot of random wandering. But over the years, enough bodies had fallen that it wasn't too difficult to find places to harvest. The crew was required to bring up a specific amount of salvage or face docked pay for the week, but the quota wasn't onerous. Enough to keep the bridgemen working, but not enough to force them to fully exert themselves. Like most bridgeman work, this was meant to keep them occupied as much as anything else.\n\nAs they walked down the first chasm, some of his men got out their sacks and picked up pieces of salvage they passed. A helmet here, a shield there. They kept a keen watch for spheres. Finding a valuable fallen sphere would result in a small reward for the whole crew. They weren't allowed to bring their own spheres or possessions into the chasm, of course. And on their way out, they were searched thoroughly. The humiliation of that search-which included anyplace a sphere might be hidden-was part of the reason chasm duty was so loathed.\n\nBut only apart. As they walked, the chasm floor widened to about fifteen feet. Here, marks scarred the walls, gashes where the moss had been scraped away, the stone itself scored. The bridgemen tried not to look at those marks. Occasionally, chasmfiends stalked these pathways, searching for either carrion or a suitable plateau to pupate upon. Encountering one of them was uncommon, but possible." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Kelek, but I hate this place,\" Teft said, walking beside Kaladin. \"I heard that once an entire bridge crew got eaten by a chasmfiend, one at a time, after it backed them into a dead end. It just sat there, picking them off as they tried to run past.\"\n\nRock chuckled. \"If they were all eaten, then who was returning to tell this story?\"\n\nTeft rubbed his chin. \"I dunno. Maybe they just never returned.\"\n\n\"Then perhaps they fled. Deserting.\"\n\n\"No,\" Teft said. \"You can't get out of these chasms without a ladder.\" He glanced upward, toward the narrow rift of blue seventy feet above, following the curve of the plateau.\n\nKaladin glanced up as well. That blue sky seemed so distant. Unreachable. Like the light of the Halls themselves. And even if you could climb out atone of the shallower areas, you'd either be trapped on the Plains without away to cross chasms, or you'd be close enough to the Alethi side that the scouts would spot you crossing the permanent bridges. You could try going eastward, toward where the plateaus were worn away to the point that they were just spires. But that would take weeks of walking, and would require surviving multiple highstorms.\n\n\"You ever been in a slot canyon when rains come, Rock?\" Teft asked, perhaps thinking along the same lines.\n\n\"No,\" Rock replied. \"On the Peaks, we have not these things. They only exist where foolish men choose to live.\"\n\n\"You live here, Rock,\" Kaladin noted.\n\n\"And I am foolish,\" the large Horneater said, chuckling. \"Did you not notice this thing?\" These last two days had changed him a great deal. He was more affable, returning in some measure to what Kaladin assumed was his normal personality." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "As the writer's tale assistant, advance the plot.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, knights radiant\nAuthor: Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: The Way of Kings\nChapter: 40" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Kelek, but I hate this place,\" Teft said, walking beside Kaladin. \"I heard that once an entire bridge crew got eaten by a chasmfiend, one at a time, after it backed them into a dead end. It just sat there, picking them off as they tried to run past.\"\n\nRock chuckled. \"If they were all eaten, then who was returning to tell this story?\"\n\nTeft rubbed his chin. \"I dunno. Maybe they just never returned.\"\n\n\"Then perhaps they fled. Deserting.\"\n\n\"No,\" Teft said. \"You can't get out of these chasms without a ladder.\" He glanced upward, toward the narrow rift of blue seventy feet above, following the curve of the plateau.\n\nKaladin glanced up as well. That blue sky seemed so distant. Unreachable. Like the light of the Halls themselves. And even if you could climb out atone of the shallower areas, you'd either be trapped on the Plains without away to cross chasms, or you'd be close enough to the Alethi side that the scouts would spot you crossing the permanent bridges. You could try going eastward, toward where the plateaus were worn away to the point that they were just spires. But that would take weeks of walking, and would require surviving multiple highstorms.\n\n\"You ever been in a slot canyon when rains come, Rock?\" Teft asked, perhaps thinking along the same lines.\n\n\"No,\" Rock replied. \"On the Peaks, we have not these things. They only exist where foolish men choose to live.\"\n\n\"You live here, Rock,\" Kaladin noted.\n\n\"And I am foolish,\" the large Horneater said, chuckling. \"Did you not notice this thing?\" These last two days had changed him a great deal. He was more affable, returning in some measure to what Kaladin assumed was his normal personality." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I was talking,\" Teft said, \"about slot canyons. You want to guess what will happen if we get trapped down herein a highstorm?\"\n\n\"Lots of water, I guess,\" Rock said.\n\n\"Lots of water, looking to go anyplace it can,\" Teft said. \"It gathers into enormous waves and goes crashing through these confined spaces with enough force to toss boulders. In fact, an ordinary rain will feel like a highstorm down here. A highstorm... well, this would probably be the worst place in Roshar to be when one hits.\"\n\nRock frowned at that, glancing upward. \"Best not to be caught in the storm, then.\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" Teft said.\n\n\"Though, Teft,\" Rock added, \"it would give you bath, which you very much need.\"\n\n\"Hey,\" Teft grumbled. \"Is that a comment on how I smell?\"\n\n\"No,\" Rock said. \"Is comment on what I have to smell. Sometimes, I am thinking that a Parshendi arrow in the eye would be better than smelling entire bridge crew enclosed in barrack at night!\"\n\nTeft chuckled. \"I'd take offense at that if it weren't true.\" He sniffed at the damp, moldy chasm air. \"This place ain't much better. It smells worse than a Horneater's boots in winter down here.\" He hesitated. \"Er, no offense. I mean personally.\"\n\nKaladin smiled, then glanced back. The thirty or soother bridgemen followed like ghosts. A few seemed to be edging close to Kaladin's group, as if trying to listen in without being obvious.\n\n\"Teft,\" Kaladin said. \"\"Smells worse than a Horneater's boots\"? How in the Halls isn't he supposed to take offense at that phrase?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It's just an expression,\" Teft said, scowling. \"It was out of my mouth before I realized what I was saying.\"\n\n\"Alas,\" Rock said, pulling a tuft of moss off the wall, inspecting it as they walked. \"Your insult has offended me. If we were at the Peaks, we would have to duel in the traditional alil'tiki'i fashion.\"\n\n\"Which is what?\" Teft asked. \"With spears?\"\n\nRock laughed. \"No, no. We upon the Peaks are not barbarians like you down here.\"\n\n\"How then?\" Kaladin asked, genuinely curious.\n\n\"Well,\" Rock said, dropping the moss and dusting off his hands, \"is involving much mudbeer and singing.\"\n\n\"How's that a duel?\"\n\n\"He who can still sing after the most drinks is winner. Plus, soon, everyone is so drunk that they probably forget what argument was about.\"\n\nTeft laughed. \"Beats knives at dawn, I suppose.\"\n\n\"I guess that depends,\" Kaladin said.\n\n\"Upon what?\" Teft asked.\n\n\"On whether or not you're a knife merchant. Eh, Dunny?\"\n\nThe other two glanced to the side, where Dunny had moved up close to listen. The spindly youth jumped and blushed. \"Er-I-\"\n\nRock chuckled at Kaladin's words. \"Dunny,\" he said to the youth. \"Is odd name. What is meaning of it?\"\n\n\"Meaning?\" Dunny asked. \"I don't know. Names don't always have a meaning.\"\n\nRock shook his head, displeased. \"Lowlanders. How are you to know who you are if your name has no meaning?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So your name means something?\" Teft asked. \"Nu... ma... nu...\"\n\n\"Numuhukumakiaki'aialunamor,\" Rock said, the native Horneater sounds flowing easily from his lips. \"Of course. Is description of very special rock my father discovered the day before my birth.\"\n\n\"So your name is a whole sentence?\" Dunny asked, uncertain-as if he wasn't sure he belonged.\n\n\"Is poem,\" Rock said. \"On the Peaks, everyone's name is poem.\"\n\n\"Is that so?\" Teft said, scratching at his beard. \"Must make calling the family at mealtime a bit of a chore.\"\n\nRock laughed. \"True, true. Is also making for some interesting arguments. Usually, the best insults on the Peaks are in the form of a poem, one which is similar in composition and rhyme to the person's name.\"\n\n\"Kelek,\" Teft muttered. \"Sounds like a lot of work.\"\n\n\"Is why most arguments end in drinking, perhaps,\" Rock said.\n\nDunny smiled hesitantly. \"Hey you big buffoon, you smell like a wet hog, so go out by the moon, and jump yourself in the bog.\"\n\nRock laughed riotously, his booming voice echoing down the chasm. \"Is good, is good,\" he said, wiping his eyes. \"Simple, but good.\"\n\n\"That almost had the sound of a song to it, Dunny,\" Kaladin said.\n\n\"Well, it was the first thing that came to mind. I put it to the tune of \"Mari's Two Lovers' to get the beat right.\"\n\n\"You can sing?\" Rock asked. \"I must be hearing.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"But-\" Dunny said.\n\n\"Sing!\" Rock commanded, pointing.\n\nDunny yelped, but obeyed, breaking into a song that wasn't familiar to Kaladin. It was an amusing tale involving a woman and twin brothers who she thought were the same person. Dunny's voice was a pure tenor, and he seemed to have more confidence when he sang than when he spoke.\n\nHe was good. Once he moved to the second verse, Rock began humming in a deep voice, providing a harmony. The Horneater was obviously very practiced at song. Kaladin glanced back at the other bridgemen, hoping to pull some more into the conversation or the song. He smiled at Skar, but got only a scowl in return. Moash and Sigzil-the dark-skinned Azish man-wouldn't even look at him. Peet looked only at his feet.\n\nWhen the song was finished, Teft clapped appreciatively. \"That's a better performance than I've heard at many an inn.\"\n\n\"Is good to meet a lowlander who can sing,\" Rock said, stooping down to pickup a helm and stuff it in his bag. This particular chasm didn't seem to have much in the way of salvage this time. \"I had begun thinking you were all as tone deaf as my father's old axehound. Ha!\"\n\nDunny blushed, but seemed to walk more confidently.\n\nThey continued, occasionally passing turns or rifts in the stone where the waters had deposited large clusters of salvage. Here, the work turned more gruesome, and they'd often have to pullout corpses or piles of bones to get what they wanted, gagging at the scent. Kaladin told them to leave the more sickening or rotted bodies for now. Rotspren tended to cluster around the dead. If they didn't find enough salvage later, they could get those on the way back." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At every intersection or branch, Kaladin made a white mark on the wall with apiece of chalk. That was the bridgeleader's duty, and he took it seriously. He wouldn't have his crew getting lost out in these rifts.\n\nAs they walked and worked, Kaladin kept the conversation going. He laughed-forced himself to laugh-with them. If that laugher felt hollow to him, the others didn't seem to notice. Perhaps they felt as he did, that even forced laughter was preferable to going back to the self-absorbed, mournful silence that cloaked most bridgemen.\n\nBefore long, Dunny was laughing and talking with Teft and Rock, his shyness faded. A few others hovered just behind-Yake, Maps, a couple of others-like wild creatures drawn to the light and warmth of afire. Kaladin tried to draw them into the conversation, but it didn't work, so eventually he just let them be.\n\nEventually, they reached a place with a significant number of fresh corpses. Kaladin wasn't sure what combination of waterflow had made this section of chasm a good place for that-it looked the same as other stretches. A little narrower perhaps. Sometimes they could go to the same nooks and find good salvage there; other times, those were empty, but other places would have dozens of corpses.\n\nThese bodies looked like they'd floated in the wash of the highstorm flood, then been deposited as the water slowly receded. There were no Parshendi among them, and they were broken and torn from either their fall or the crush of the flood. Many were missing limbs.\n\nThe stink of blood and viscera hung in the humid air. Kaladin held his torch aloft as his companions fell silent. The dank chill kept the bodies from rotting too quickly, though the dampness counteracted some of that. The cremlings had begun chewing the skin off hands and gnawing out the eyes. Soon the stomachs would bloat with gas. Some rotspren-tiny, red, translucent-scrambled across the corpses." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Syl floated down and landed on his shoulder, making disgusted noises. As usual, she offered no explanation for her absence.\n\nThe men knew what to do. Even with the rotspren, this was too rich a place to pass up. They went to work, pulling the corpses into a line so they could be inspected. Kaladin waved for Rock and Teft to join him as he picked up some stray bits of salvage that lay on the ground around the corpses. Dunny tagged along.\n\n\"Those bodies wear the highprince's colors,\" Rock noted as Kaladin picked up a dented steel cap.\n\n\"I'll bet they're from that run a few days back,\" Kaladin said. \"It went badly for Sadeas's forces.\"\n\n\"Brightlord Sadeas,\" Dunny said. Then he ducked his head in embarrassment. \"Sorry, I didn't mean to correct you. I used to forget to say the title. My master beat me when I did.\"\n\n\"Master?\" Teft asked, picking up a fallen spear and pulling some moss off its shaft.\n\n\"I was an apprentice. I mean, before...\" Dunny trailed off, then looked away.\n\nTeft had been right; bridgemen didn't like talking about their pasts. Anyway, Dunny was probably right to correct him. Kaladin would be punished if he were heard omitting a lighteyes's honorific.\n\nKaladin put the cap in his sack, then rammed his torch into a gap between two moss-covered boulders and started helping the others get the bodies into a line. He didn't prod the men toward conversation. The fallen deserved some reverence-if that was possible while robbing them.\n\nNext, the bridgemen stripped the fallen of their armor. Leather vests from the archers, steel breastplates from the foot soldiers. This group included a lighteyes in fine clothing beneath even finer armor. Sometimes the bodies of fallen lighteyes would be recovered from the chasms by special teams so the corpse could be Soulcast into a statue. Darkeyes, unless they were very wealthy, were burned. And most soldiers who fell into the chasms were ignored; the men in camp spoke of the chasms being hallowed resting places, but the truth was that the effort to get the bodies out wasn't worth the cost or the danger." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Regardless, to find a lighteyes here meant that his family hadn't been wealthy enough, or concerned enough, to send men out to recover him. His face was crushed beyond recognition, but his rank insignia identified him as seventh dahn. Landless, attached to a more powerful officer's retinue.\n\nOnce they had his armor, they pulled daggers and boots off everyone inline-boots were always in demand. They left the fallen their clothing, though they took off the belts and cut free many shirt buttons. As they worked, Kaladin sent Teft and Rock around the bend to see if there were any other bodies nearby.\n\nOnce the armor, weapons, and boots had been separated, the most grisly task began: searching pockets and pouches for spheres and jewelry. This pile was the smallest of the lot, but valuable. They didn't find any broams, which meant no pitiful reward for the bridgemen.\n\nAs the men performed their morbid task, Kaladin noticed the end of a spear poking out of a nearby pool. It had gone unnoticed in their initial sweep.\n\nLost in thought, he fetched it, shaking off the water, carrying it over to the weapons pile. He hesitated there, holding the spear over the pile with one hand, cold water dripping from it. He rubbed his finger along the smooth wood. He could tell from the heft, balance, and sanding that it was a good weapon. Sturdy, well made, well kept.\n\nHe closed his eyes, remembering days as a boy holding a quarterstaff.\n\nWords spoken by Tukks years ago returned to him, words spoken on that bright summer day when he'd first held a weapon in Amaram's army. The first step is to care, Tukks's voice seemed to whisper. Some talk about being emotionless in battle. Well, I suppose it's important to keep your head. But I hate that feeling of killing while calm and cold. I've seen that those who care fight harder, longer, and better than those who don't. It's the difference between mercenaries and real soldiers. It's the difference between fighting to defend your homeland and fighting on foreign soil." }, { "from": "human", "value": "It's good to care when you fight, so long as you don't let it consume you." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Don't try to stop yourself from feeling. You'll hate who you become.\n\nThe spear quivered in Kaladin's fingers, as if begging him to swing it, spin it, dance with it.\n\n\"What are you planning to do, lordling?\" a voice called. \"Going to ram that spear into your own gut?\"\n\nKaladin glanced up at the speaker. Moash-still one of Kaladin's biggest detractors-stood near the line of corpses. How had he known to call Kaladin'lordling\"? Had he been talking to Gaz?\n\n\"He claims he's a deserter,\" Moash said to Narm, the man working next to him. \"Says he was some important soldier, a squadleader or the like. But Gaz says that's all stupid boasting. They wouldn't send a man to the bridges if he actually knew how to fight.\"\n\nKaladin lowered the spear.\n\nMoash smirked, turning back to his work. Others, however, had now noticed Kaladin. \"Look at him,\" Sigzil said. \"Ho, bridgeleader! You think that you're grand? That you are better than us? You think pretending that we're your own personal troop of soldiers will change anything?\"\n\n\"Leave him alone,\" Drehy said. He shoved Sigzil as he passed. \"At least he tries.\"\n\nEarless Jacks snorted, pulling a boot free from a dead foot. \"He cares about looking important. Even if he was in the army, I'll bet he spent his days cleaning out latrines.\"\n\nIt appeared that there was something that would pull the bridgemen out of their silent stupors: loathing for Kaladin. Others began talking, calling gibes.\n\n\"... his fault we're down here...\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"... wants to run us ragged during our only free time, just so he can feel important...\"\n\n\"... sent us to carry rocks to show us he could shove us around...\"\n\n\"... bet he's never held a spear in his life.\"\n\nKaladin closed his eyes, listening to their scorn, rubbing his fingers on the wood.\n\nNever held a spear in his life. Maybe if he'd never picked up that first spear, none of this would have happened.\n\nHe felt the smooth wood, slick with rainwater, memories jumbling in his head. Training to forget, training to get vengeance, training to learn and make sense of what had happened.\n\nWithout thinking about it, he snapped the spear up under his arm into a guard position, point down. Water droplets from its length sprayed across his back.\n\nMoash cutoff in the middle of another gibe. The bridgemen sputtered to a stop. The chasm became quiet.\n\nAnd Kaladin was in another place.\n\nHe was listening to Tukks chide him.\n\nHe was listening to Tien laugh.\n\nHe was hearing his mother tease him in her clever, witty way.\n\nHe was on the battlefield, surrounded by enemies but ringed by friends.\n\nHe was listening to his father tell him with a sneer in his voice that spears were only for killing. You could not kill to protect.\n\nHe was alone in a chasm deep beneath the earth, holding the spear of a fallen man, fingers gripping the wet wood, a faint dripping coming from somewhere distant.\n\nStrength surged through him as he spun the spear up into an advanced kata. His body moved of its own accord, going through the forms he'd trained in so frequently. The spear danced in his fingers, comfortable, an extension of himself. He spun with it, swinging it around and around, across his neck, over his arm, in and out of jabs and swings. Though it had been months since he'd even held a weapon, his muscles knew what to do. It was as if the spear itself knew what to do." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Tension melted away, frustration melted away, and his body sighed in contentment even as he worked it furiously. This was familiar. This was welcome. This was what it had been created to do.\n\nMen had always told Kaladin that he fought like nobody else. He'd felt it on the first day he'd picked up a quarterstaff, though Tukks's advice had helped him refine and channel what he could do. Kaladin had cared when he fought. He'd never fought empty or cold. He fought to keep his men alive.\n\nOf all the recruits in his cohort, he had learned the quickest. How to hold the spear, how to stand to spar. He'd done it almost without instruction. That had shocked Tukks. But why should it have? You were not shocked when a child knew how to breathe. You were not shocked when a skyeel took flight for the first time. You should not be shocked when you hand Kaladin Stormblessed a spear and he knows how to use it.\n\nKaladin spun through the last motions of the kata, chasm forgotten, bridgemen forgotten, fatigue forgotten. Fora moment, it was just him. Him and the wind. He fought with her, and she laughed.\n\nHe snapped the spear back into place, holding the haft at the one-quarter position, spearhead down, bottom of the haft tucked underneath his arm, end rising back behind his head. He breathed in deeply, shivering.\n\nOh, how I've missed that.\n\nHe opened his eyes. Sputtering torchlight revealed a group of stunned bridgemen standing in a damp corridor of stone, the walls wet and reflecting the light. Moash dropped a handful of spheres in stunned silence, staring at Kaladin with mouth agape. Those spheres plopped into the puddle at his feet, causing it to glow, but none of the bridgemen noticed. They just stared at Kaladin, who was still in a battle stance, half crouched, trails of sweat running down the sides of his face." }, { "from": "human", "value": "He blinked, realizing what he'd done." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If word got back to Gaz that he was playing around with spears... Kaladin stood up straight and dropped the spear into the pile of weapons. \"Sorry,\" he whispered to it, though he didn't know why. Then, louder, he said, \"Back to work! I don't want to be caught down here when night falls.\"\n\nThe bridgemen jumped into motion. Down the chasm corridor, he saw Rock and Teft. Had they seen the entire kata? Flushing, Kaladin hurried up to them. Syl landed on his shoulder, silent.\n\n\"Kaladin, lad,\" Teft said reverently. \"That was-\"\n\n\"It was meaningless,\" Kaladin said. \"Just a kata. Meant to work the muscles and make you practice the basic jabs, thrusts, and sweeps. It's a lot showier than it is useful.\"\n\n\"But-\"\n\n\"No, really,\" Kaladin said. \"Can you imagine a man swinging a spear around his neck like that in combat? He'd be gutted in a second.\"\n\n\"Lad,\" Teft said. \"I've seen katas before. But never one like that. The way you moved... The speed, the grace... And there was some sort of spren zipping around you, between your sweeps, glowing with a pale light. It was beautiful.\"\n\nRock started. \"You could see that?\"\n\n\"Sure,\" Teft said. \"Never seen a spren like that. Ask the other men-I saw a few of them pointing.\"\n\nKaladin glanced at his shoulder, frowning at Syl. She sat primly, legs crossed and hands folded atop her knee, pointedly not looking at him.\n\n\"It was nothing,\" Kaladin repeated." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"No,\" Rock said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That it certainly was not. Perhaps you should challenge Shardbearer. You could become brightlord!\"\n\n\"I don't want to be a brightlord,\" Kaladin snapped, perhaps more harshly than he should have. The other two jumped. \"Besides,\" he added, looking away from them. \"I tried that once. Where's Dunny?\"\n\n\"Wait,\" Teft said, \"you-\"\n\n\"Where is Dunny?\" Kaladin said firmly, punctuating each word. Stormfather. I need to keep my mouth shut.\n\nTeft and Rock shared a glance, then Teft pointed. \"We found some dead Parshendi around the bend. Thought you'd want to know.\"\n\n\"Parshendi,\" Kaladin said. \"Let's go look. Might have something valuable.\" He'd never looted Parshendi bodies before; fewer of them fell into the chasms than Alethi.\n\n\"Is true,\" Rock said, leading the way, carrying a lit torch. \"Those weapons they have, yes, very nice. And gemstones in their beards.\"\n\n\"Not to mention the armor,\" Kaladin said.\n\nRock shook his head. \"No armor.\"\n\n\"Rock, I've seen their armor. They always wear it.\"\n\n\"Well, yes, but we cannot use this thing.\"\n\n\"I don't understand,\" Kaladin said.\n\n\"Come,\" Rock said, gesturing. \"Is easier than explaining.\"\n\nKaladin shrugged, and they rounded the corner, Rock scratching at his red-bearded chin. \"Stupid hairs,\" he muttered. \"Ah, to have it right again. A man is not proper man without proper beard.\"\n\nKaladin rubbed his own beard. One of these days, he'd save up and buy a razor and be rid of the blasted thing. Or, well, probably not. His spheres would be needed elsewhere." }, { "from": "human", "value": "They rounded the corner and found Dunny pulling the Parshendi bodies into a line." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There were four of them, and they looked like they'd been swept in from another direction. There were a few more Alethi bodies here too.\n\nKaladin strode forward, waving Rock to bring the light, and knelt to inspect one of the Parshendi dead. They were like parshmen, with skin in marbled patterns of black and crimson. Their only clothing was knee-length black skirts. Three wore beards, which was unusual for parshmen, and those were woven with uncut gemstones.\n\nJust as Kaladin had expected, they wore armor of a pale red color. Breastplates, helms on the heads, guards on the arms and legs. Extensive armor for regular foot soldiers. Some of it was cracked from the fall or the wash. It wasn't metal, then. Painted wood?\n\n\"I thought you said they weren't armored,\" Kaladin said. \"What are you trying to tell me? That you don't dare take it off the dead?\"\n\n\"Don't dare?\" Rock said. \"Kaladin, Master Brightlord, brilliant bridgeleader, spinner of spear, perhaps you will get it off them.\"\n\nKaladin shrugged. His father had instilled in him a familiarity with the dead and dying, and though it felt bad to rob the dead, he was not squeamish. He prodded the first Parshendi, noting the man's knife. He took it and looked for the strap that held the shoulder guard in place.\n\nThere was no strap. Kaladin frowned and peered underneath the guard, trying to pry it up. The skin lifted with it. \"Stormfather!\" he said. He inspected the helm. It was grown into the head. Or grown from the head. \"What is this?\"\n\n\"Do not know,\" Rock said, shrugging. \"It is looking like they grow their own armor, eh?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That's ridiculous,\" Kaladin said. \"They're just people. People-even parshmen-don't grow armor.\"\n\n\"Parshendi do,\" Teft said.\n\nKaladin and the other two turned to him.\n\n\"Don't look at me like that,\" the older man said with a scowl. \"I worked in the camp fora few years before I ended up as a bridgeman-no, I'm not going to tell you how, so storm off. Anyway, the soldiers talk about it. The Parshendi grow carapaces.\"\n\n\"I've known parshmen,\" Kaladin said. \"There were a couple of them in my hometown, serving the citylord. None of them grew armor.\"\n\n\"Well, these area different kind of parshman,\" Teft said with a scowl. \"Bigger, stronger. They can jump chasms, for Kelek's sake. And they grow armor. That's just how it is.\"\n\nThere was no disputing it, so they just moved onto gathering what they could. Many Parshendi used heavy weapons-axes, hammers-and those hadn't been carried along with the bodies like many of the spears and bows Alethi soldiers had. But they did find several knives and one ornate sword, still in a sheath at the Parshendi's side.\n\nThe skirts didn't have pockets, but the corpses did have pouches tied to their waists. These just carried flint and tinder, whetstones, or other basic supplies. So, they knelt to begin pulling the gemstones from the beards. Those gemstones had holes drilled through them to facilitate weaving, and Stormlight infused them, though they didn't glow as brightly as they would have if they'd been properly cut." }, { "from": "human", "value": "As Rock pulled the gemstones out of the final Parshendi's beard, Kaladin held one of the knives up near Dunny's torch, inspecting the detailed carving." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Those look like glyphs,\" he said, showing it to Teft.\n\n\"I can't read glyphs, boy.\"\n\nOh, right, Kaladin thought. Well, if they were glyphs, they weren't ones he was familiar with. Of course, you could draw most glyphs in complex ways that made it hard to read them, unless you knew exactly what to look for. There was a figure at the center of the hilt, nicely carved. It was a man in fine armor. Shardplate, certainly. A symbol was etched behind him, surrounding him, spreading out from his back like wings.\n\nKaladin showed it to Rock, who had walked up to see what he found so fascinating. \"The Parshendi out here are supposed to be barbarians,\" Kaladin said. \"Without culture. Where did they get knives like these? I'd swear this is a picture of one of the Heralds. Jezerezeh or Nalan.\"\n\nRock shrugged. Kaladin sighed and returned the knife to its sheath, then dropped it into his sack. Then they rounded the curve back to the others. The crew had gathered up sacks full of armor, belts, boots, and spheres. Each took up a spear to carry back to the ladder, holding them like walking sticks. They'd left one for Kaladin, but he tossed it to Rock. He didn't trust himself to hold one of them again, worried he'd be tempted to fall into another kata.\n\nThe walk back was uneventful, though with the darkening sky, the men began jumping at every sound. Kaladin engaged Rock, Teft, and Dunny in conversation again. He was able to get Drehy and Torfin to talk a little as well.\n\nThey safely reached the first chasm, much to the relief of his men. Kaladin sent the others up the ladder first, waiting to go up last. Rock waited with him, and as Dunny finally started up-leaving Rock and Kaladin alone-the tall Horneater put a hand on Kaladin's shoulder, speaking in a soft voice." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You do good work here,\" Rock said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I am thinking that in a few weeks, these men will be yours.\"\n\nKaladin shook his head. \"We're bridgemen, Rock. We don't have a few weeks. If I take that long winning them over, half of us will be dead.\"\n\nRock frowned. \"Is not a happy thought.\"\n\n\"That's why we have to win over the other men now.\"\n\n\"But how?\"\n\nKaladin looked up at the dangling ladder, shaking as the men climbed up. Only four could goat a time, lest they overload it. \"Meet me after we're searched. We're going to the camp market.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" Rock said, swinging onto the ladder as Earless Jaks reached the top. \"What will be our purpose in this thing?\"\n\n\"We're going to tryout my secret weapon.\"\n\nRock laughed as Kaladin held the ladder steady for him. \"And what weapon is this?\"\n\nKaladin smiled. \"Actually, it's you.\"\n\nTwo hours later, at Salas's first violet light, Rock and Kaladin walked back into the lumberyard. It was just past sunset, and many of the bridgemen would soon be going to sleep.\n\nNot much time, Kaladin thought, gesturing for Rock to carry his burden to a place near the front of Bridge Four's barrack. The large Horneater set his burden down next to Teft and Dunny, who had done as Kaladin had ordered, building a small ring of stones and setting up some stumps of wood from the lumberyard scrap pile. That wood was free for anyone to take. Even bridgemen were allowed; some liked to take chunks to whittle.\n\nKaladin got out a sphere for light. The thing Rock had been carrying was an old iron cauldron. Even though it was secondhand, it had cost Kaladin a fair chunk of the knobweed sap money. The Horneater began to unpack supplies from inside the cauldron as Kaladin arranged some wood scraps inside the ring of stones." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Dunny, water, if you please,\" Kaladin said, getting out his flint." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dunny ran off to fetch a bucket from one of the rain barrels. Rock finished emptying the cauldron, laying out small packages that had cost another substantial portion of Kaladin's spheres. He had only a handful of clearchips left.\n\nAs they worked, Hobber limped out of the barrack. He was mending quickly, though the other two wounded that Kaladin had treated were still in bad shape.\n\n\"What are you up to, Kaladin?\" Hobber asked just as Kaladin got aflame started.\n\nKaladin smiled, standing. \"Have a seat.\"\n\nHobber did just that. He hadn't lost the near-devotion he'd shown Kaladin for saving his life. If anything, his loyalty had grown stronger.\n\nDunny returned with a bucket of water, which he poured into the cauldron. Then he and Teft ran off to get more. Kaladin built up the flames and Rock began to hum to himself as he diced tubers and unwrapped some seasonings. In under a half hour, they had a roaring flame and a simmering pot of stew.\n\nTeft sat down on one of the stumps, warming his hands. \"This is your secret weapon?\"\n\nKaladin sat down next to the older man. \"Have you known many soldiers in your life, Teft?\"\n\n\"A few.\"\n\n\"You ever known any who could turn down a warm fire and some stew at the end of a hard day?\"\n\n\"Well, no. But bridgemen ain't soldiers.\"\n\nThat was true. Kaladin turned to the barrack doorway. Rock and Dunny started up a song together and Teft began to clap along. Some of the men from other bridge crews were up late, and they gave Kaladin and the others nothing more than scowls." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Figures shifted inside the barrack, shadows moving. The door was open, and the scents of Rock's stew grew strong. Inviting.\n\nCome on, Kaladin thought. Remember why we live. Remember warmth, remember good food. Remember friends, and song, and evenings spent around the hearth.\n\nYou aren't dead yet. Storm you! If you don't come out...\n\nIt all suddenly seemed so contrived to Kaladin. The singing was forced, the stew an act of desperation. It was all just an attempt to briefly distract from the pathetic life he had been forced into.\n\nA figure moved in the doorway. Skar-short, square-bearded, and keen-eyed-stepped out into the firelight. Kaladin smiled at him. A forced smile. Sometimes that was all one could offer. Let it be enough, he prayed, standing up, dipping a wooden bowl into Rock's stew.\n\nKaladin held the bowl toward Skar. Steam curled from the surface of the brownish liquid. \"Will you join us?\" Kaladin asked. \"Please.\"\n\nSkar looked at him, then back down at the stew. He laughed, taking the stew. \"I'd join the Nightwatcher herself around afire if there was stew involved!\"\n\n\"Be careful,\" Teft said. \"That's Horneater stew. Might be snail shells or crab claws floating in it.\"\n\n\"There is not!\" Rock barked. \"Is unfortunate that you have unrefined lowlander tastes, but I prepare the food such as I am ordered by our dear bridgeleader.\"\n\nKaladin smiled, letting out a deep breath as Skar sat down. Others trailed out after him, taking bowls, sitting. Some stared into the fire, not saying much, but others began to laugh and sing. Atone point, Gaz walked past, eyeing them with his single eye, as if trying to decide if they were breaking any camp regulations. They weren't. Kaladin had checked." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kaladin dipped out a bowl of stew and held it toward Gaz. The bridge sergeant snorted in derision and stalked away.\n\nCan't expect too many miracles in one night, Kaladin thought with a sigh, settling back down and trying the stew. It was quite good. He smiled, joining in the next verse of Dunny's song.\n\nThe next morning, when Kaladin called for the bridgemen to rise, three-quarters of them piled out of the barrack-everyone but the loudest complainers: Moash, Sigzil, Narm, and a couple of others. The ones who came to his call looked surprisingly refreshed, despite the long evening spent singing and eating. When he ordered them to join him in practice carrying the bridge, almost all of those who had risen joined him.\n\nNot everyone, but enough.\n\nHe had a feeling that Moash and the others would give in before too long. They'd eaten his stew. Nobody had turned that down. And now that he had so many, the others would feel foolish not joining in. Bridge Four was his.\n\nNow he had to keep them alive long enough for that to mean something." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Adolin was frightened.\n\nHe stood beside his father on the staging ground. Dalinar looked... weathered. Creases running back from his eyes, furrows in his skin. Black hair going white like bleached rock along the sides. How could a man standing in full Shardplate-a man who yet retained a warrior's frame despite his age-look fragile?\n\nIn front of them, two chulls followed their handler, stepping up onto the bridge. The wooden span linked two piles of cut stones, a mock chasm only a few feet deep. The chulls' whiplike antennae twitched, mandibles clacking, fist-size black eyes glancing about. They pulled a massive siege bridge, rolling on creaking wooden wheels.\n\n\"That's much wider than the bridges Sadeas uses,\" Dalinar said to Teleb, who stood beside them.\n\n\"It's necessary to accommodate the siege bridge, Brightlord.\"\n\nDalinar nodded absently. Adolin suspected that he was the only one who could see that his father was distressed. Dalinar maintained his usual confident front, his head high, his voice firm when he spoke.\n\nYet, those eyes. They were too red, too strained. And when Adolin's father felt strained, he grew cold and businesslike. When he spoke to Teleb, his tone was too controlled.\n\nDalinar Kholin was suddenly a man laboring beneath great weight. And Adolin had helped put him there.\n\nThe chulls advanced. Their boulderlike shells were painted blue and yellow, the colors and pattern indicating the island of their Reshi handlers. The bridge beneath them groaned ominously as the larger siege bridge rolled onto it. All around the staging area, soldiers turned to look. Even the workmen cutting a latrine into the stony ground on the eastern side stopped to watch." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The groans from the bridge grew louder. Then they became sharp cracks. The handlers halted the chulls, glancing toward Teleb.\n\n\"It's not going to hold, is it?\" Adolin asked.\n\nTeleb sighed. \"Storm it, I was hoping... Bah, we made the smaller bridge too thin when we widened it. But if we make it thicker, it will get too heavy to carry.\" He glanced at Dalinar. \"I apologize for wasting your time, Brightlord. You are correct; this is akin to the ten fools.\"\n\n\"Adolin, what do you think?\" Dalinar asked.\n\nAdolin frowned. \"Well... I think perhaps we should keep working with it. This is only the first attempt, Teleb. Perhaps there's still away. Design the siege bridges to be narrower, maybe?\"\n\n\"That could be very costly, Brightlord,\" Teleb said.\n\n\"If it helps us win one extra gemheart, the effort would be paid for several times over.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Teleb said, nodding. \"I will speak with Lady Kalana. Perhaps she can devise anew design.\"\n\n\"Good,\" Dalinar said. He stared at the bridge for an extended moment. Then, oddly, he turned to look toward the other side of the staging area, where the workers had been cutting the latrine ditch.\n\n\"Father?\" Adolin asked.\n\n\"Why do you suppose,\" Dalinar said, \"there are no Shardplate-like suits for workmen?\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Shardplate gives awesome strength, but we rarely use it for anything other than war and slaughter. Why did the Radiants fashion only weapons? Why didn't they make productive tools for use by ordinary men?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I don't know,\" Adolin said. \"Perhaps because war was the most important thing around.\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" Dalinar said, voice growing softer. \"And perhaps that's a final condemnation of them and their ideals. For all of their lofty claims, they never gave their Plate or its secrets to the common people.\"\n\n\"I... I don't understand why that's important, Father.\"\n\nDalinar shook himself slightly. \"We should get on with our inspections. Where's Ladent?\"\n\n\"Here, Brightlord.\" A short man stepped up to Dalinar. Bald and bearded, the ardent wore thick, blue-grey layered robes from which his hands barely extended. The effect was of a crab who was too small for his shell. It looked terribly hot, but he didn't seem to mind.\n\n\"Send a messenger to the Fifth Battalion,\" Dalinar told him. \"We'll be visiting them next.\"\n\n\"Yes, Brightlord.\"\n\nAdolin and Dalinar began to walk. They'd chosen to wear their Shardplate for this day's inspections. That wasn't uncommon; many Shardbearers found any excuse they could to wear Plate. Plus, it was good for the men to see their highprince and his heir in their strength.\n\nThey drew attention as they left the staging area and entered the warcamp proper. Like Adolin, Dalinar went about unhelmed, though the gorget of his armor was tall and thick, rising like a metal collar up to his chin. He nodded to soldiers who saluted.\n\n\"Adolin,\" Dalinar said. \"In combat, do you feel the Thrill?\"\n\nAdolin started. He knew immediately what his father meant, but he was shocked to hear the words. This wasn't often discussed. \"I... Well, of course. Who doesn't?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dalinar didn't reply. He had been so reserved lately. Was that pain in his eyes? The way he was before, Adolin thought, deluded but confident. That was actually better.\n\nDalinar said nothing more, and the two of them continued through the camp. Six years had let the soldiers settle in thoroughly. Barracks were painted with company and squad symbols, and the space between them was outfitted with firepits, stools, and canvas-shaded dining areas. Adolin's father had forbidden none of this, though he had set guidelines to discourage sloppiness.\n\nDalinar had also approved most requests for families to be brought to the Shattered Plains. The officers already had their wives, of course-a good lighteyes officer was really a team, the man to command and fight, the woman to read, write, engineer, and manage camp. Adolin smiled, thinking of Malasha. Would she prove to be the one for him? She'd been a little cold to him lately. Of course, there was Danlan. He'd only just met her, but he was intrigued.\n\nRegardless, Dalinar had also approved requests by darkeyed common soldiers to bring their families. He even paid half of the cost. When Adolin had asked why, Dalinar had replied that he didn't feel right forbidding them. The warcamps were never attacked anymore, so there was no danger. Adolin suspected his father felt that since he was living in a luxurious near-palace, his men might as well have the comfort of their families.\n\nAnd so it was that children played and ran through the camp. Women hung wash and painted glyphwards as men sharpened spears and polished breastplates. Barrack interiors had been partitioned to create rooms.\n\n\"I think you were right,\" Adolin said as they walked, trying to draw his father out of his contemplations. \"To let so many bring their families here, I mean.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yes, but how many will leave when this is over?\"\n\n\"Does it matter?\"\n\n\"I'm not certain. The Shattered Plains are now a de facto Alethi province. How will this place appear in a hundred years? Will those rings of barracks become neighborhoods? The outer shops become markets? The hills to the west become fields for planting?\" He shook his head. \"The gemhearts will always be here, it seems. And so long as they are, there will be people here as well.\"\n\n\"That's a good thing, isn't it? So long as those people are Alethi.\" Adolin chuckled.\n\n\"Perhaps. And what will happen to the value of gemstones if we continue to capture gemhearts at the rate we have?\"\n\n\"I...\" That was a good question.\n\n\"What happens, I wonder, when the scarcest, yet most desirable, substance in the land suddenly becomes commonplace? There's much going on here, son. Much we haven't considered. The gemhearts, the Parshendi, the death of Gavilar. You will have to be ready to consider these things.\"\n\n\"Me?\" Adolin said. \"What does that mean?\"\n\nDalinar didn't answer, instead nodding as the commander of the Fifth Battalion hastened up to them and saluted. Adolin sighed and saluted back. The Twenty-first and Twenty-second Companies were doing close order drill here-an essential exercise whose true value few outside the military ever appreciated. The Twenty-third and Twenty-fourth Companies were doing extended order-or combat-drill, practicing the formations and movements used on the battlefield.\n\nFighting on the Shattered Plains was very different from regular warfare, as the Alethi had learned from some embarrassing early losses. The Parshendi were squat, muscular, and had that strange, skin-grown armor of theirs. It didn't cover as fully as plate, but it was far more efficient than what most foot soldiers had. Each Parshendi was essentially an extremely mobile heavy infantryman." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Parshendi always attacked in pairs, eschewing a regular line of battle. That should have made it easy fora disciplined line to defeat them. But each pair of Parshendi had such momentum-and was so well armored-that they could break right through a shield wall. Alternatively, their jumping prowess could suddenly deposit entire ranks of Parshendi behind Alethi lines.\n\nBeyond all that, there was that distinctive way they moved as a group in combat. They maneuvered with an inexplicable coordination. What had seemed at first to be mere barbarian savagery turned out to disguise something more subtle and dangerous.\n\nThey'd found only two reliable ways to defeat the Parshendi. The first was to use a Shardblade. Effective, but of limited application. The Kholin army had only two Blades, and while Shards were incredibly powerful, they needed proper support. An isolated, outnumbered Shardbearer could be tripped and toppled by his adversaries. In fact, the onetime Adolin had seen a full Shardbearer fall to a regular soldier, it had happened because he had been swarmed by spearmen who broke his breastplate. Then a lighteyed archer had slain him from fifty paces, winning the Shards for himself. Not exactly a heroic end.\n\nThe other reliable way to fight Parshendi depended on quick-moving formations. Flexibility mixed with discipline: flexibility to respond to the uncanny way Parshendi fought, discipline to maintain lines and makeup for individual Parshendi strength.\n\nHavrom, Fifth Battalionlord, waited for Adolin and Dalinar with his companylords in a line. They saluted, right fists to right shoulders, knuckles outward.\n\nDalinar nodded to them. \"Have my orders been seen to, Brightlord Havrom?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yes, Highprince.\" Havrom was built like a tower, and wore a beard with long sides after the Horneater fashion, chin clean-shaven. He had relatives among the Peakfolk. \"The men you wanted are waiting in the audience tent.\"\n\n\"What's this?\" Adolin asked.\n\n\"I'll show you in a moment,\" Dalinar said. \"First, review the troops.\"\n\nAdolin frowned, but the soldiers were waiting. One company at a time, Havrom had the men fall in. Adolin walked before them, inspecting their lines and uniforms. They were neat and orderly, though Adolin knew that some of the soldiers in their army grumbled at the level of polish required of them. He happened to agree with them on that point.\n\nAt the end of the inspection, he questioned a few random men, asked their rank and if they had any specific concerns. None had any. Were they satisfied or just intimidated?\n\nWhen he was done, Adolin returned to his father.\n\n\"You did that well,\" Dalinar said.\n\n\"All I did was walk down a line.\"\n\n\"Yes, but the presentation was good. The men know you care for their needs, and they respect you.\" He nodded, as if to himself. \"You've learned well.\"\n\n\"I think you're reading too much into a simple inspection, Father.\"\n\nDalinar nodded to Havrom, and the battalionlord led the two of them to an audience tent near the side of the practice field. Adolin, puzzled, glanced at his father.\n\n\"I had Havrom gather the soldiers that Sadeas spoke to the other day,\" Dalinar said. \"The ones he interviewed while we were on our way to the plateau assault.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" Adolin said. \"We'll want to know what he asked them.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Yes,\" Dalinar said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He gestured for Adolin to enter before him, and they walked in-tailed by a few of Dalinar's ardents. Inside, a group often soldiers waited on benches. They rose and saluted.\n\n\"At ease,\" Dalinar said, clasping plated hands behind his back. \"Adolin?\" Dalinar nodded toward the men, indicating that Adolin should take the lead in the questioning.\n\nAdolin stifled a sigh. Again? \"Men, we need to know what Sadeas asked you and how you responded.\"\n\n\"Don't worry, Brightlord,\" said one of the men, speaking with a rural northern Alethi accent. \"We didn't tell him nothing.\"\n\nThe others nodded vigorously.\n\n\"He's an eel, and we know it,\" another added.\n\n\"He is a highprince,\" Dalinar said sternly. \"You will treat him with respect.\"\n\nThe soldier paled, then nodded.\n\n\"What, specifically, did he ask you?\" Adolin asked.\n\n\"He wanted to know our duties in the camp, Brightlord,\" the man said. \"We're grooms, you see.\"\n\nEach soldier was trained in one or two additional skills beyond those of combat. Having a group of soldiers who could care for horses was useful, as it kept civilians from plateau assaults.\n\n\"He asked around,\" said one of the men. \"Or, well, his people did. Found out we were in charge of the king's horse during the chasmfiend hunt.\"\n\n\"But we didn't say nothing,\" the first soldier repeated. \"Nothing to get you into trouble, sir. We're not going to give that ee-er, that highprince, Brightlord sir, the rope to hang you, sir.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Adolin closed his eyes. If they had acted this way around Sadeas, it would have been more incriminating than the cut girth itself. He couldn't fault their loyalty, but they acted as if they assumed Dalinar had done something wrong, and needed to defend him.\n\nHe opened his eyes. \"I spoke to some of you before, I recall. But let me ask again. Did any of you see a cut strap on the king's saddle?\"\n\nThe men looked at each other, shaking heads. \"No, Brightlord,\" one of the men replied. \"If we'd seen it, we'd have changed it, right we would.\"\n\n\"But, Brightlord,\" one of the men added, \"there was a lot of confusion that day, and a lot of people. Wasn't aright regular plateau assault or nothing like that. And, well, to be honest, sir, who'd have thought that we'd need to protect the king's saddle, of all things under the Halls?\"\n\nDalinar nodded to Adolin, and they stepped out of the tent. \"Well?\"\n\n\"They probably didn't do much to help our cause,\" Adolin said with a grimace. \"Despite their ardor. Or, rather, because of it.\"\n\n\"Agreed, unfortunately.\" Dalinar let out a sigh. He waved to Tadet; the short ardent was standing to the side of the tent. \"Interview them separately,\" Dalinar told him softly. \"See if you can tease specifics from them. Try to find out the exact words Sadeas used, and what their exact responses were.\"\n\n\"Yes, Brightlord.\"\n\n\"Come, Adolin,\" Dalinar said. \"We've still got a few inspections to do.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Father,\" Adolin said, taking Dalinar's arm." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Their armor clinked softly.\n\nDalinar turned to him, frowning, and Adolin made a quick gesture toward the Cobalt Guard. A request for space to speak. The guards moved efficiently and quickly, clearing a private space around the two men.\n\n\"What is this about, Father?\" Adolin demanded softly.\n\n\"What? We're doing inspections and seeing to camp business.\"\n\n\"And in each case, you shove me out into the lead,\" Adolin said. \"Awkwardly, in a few cases, I might add. What's wrong? What's going on inside that head of yours?\"\n\n\"I thought you had a distinct problem with the things going on inside my head.\"\n\nAdolin winced. \"Father, I-\"\n\n\"No, it's all right, Adolin. I'm just trying to make a difficult decision. It helps me to move about while I do it.\" Dalinar grimaced. \"Another man might find a place to sit and brood, but that never seems to help me. I've got too much to do.\"\n\n\"What is it you're trying to decide?\" Adolin asked. \"Perhaps I can help.\"\n\n\"You already have. I-\" Dalinar cutoff, frowning. A small force of soldiers was walking up to the Fifth Battalion's practice yards. They were escorting a man in red and brown. Those were Thanadal's colors.\n\n\"Don't you have a meeting with him this evening?\" Adolin asked.\n\n\"Yes,\" Dalinar said.\n\nNiter-head of the Cobalt Guard-ran to intercept the newcomers. He could be overly suspicious at times, but that wasn't a terrible trait fora bodyguard to have. He returned to Dalinar and Adolin shortly. Tanfaced, Niter bore a black beard, cut short. He was a lighteyes of very low rank, and had been with the guard for years. \"He says that Highprince Thanadal will be unable to meet with you today as planned.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dalinar's expression grew dark. \"I will speak to the runner myself.\"\n\nReluctantly, Niter waved the spindly fellow forward. He approached and dropped to one knee before Dalinar. \"Brightlord.\"\n\nThis time, Dalinar didn't ask for Adolin to take the lead. \"Deliver your message.\"\n\n\"Brightlord Thanadal regrets that he is unable to attend you this day.\"\n\n\"And did he offer another time to meet?\"\n\n\"He regrets to say that he has grown too busy. But he would be happy to speak with you at the king's feast one evening.\"\n\nIn public, Adolin thought, where half the men nearby will be eavesdropping while the other half-likely including Thanadal himself-will probably be drunk.\n\n\"I see,\" Dalinar said. \"And did he give any indication of when he'd no longer be so busy?\"\n\n\"Brightlord,\" the messenger said, growing uncomfortable. \"He said that if you pressed, I should explain that he has spoken with several of the other highprinces, and feels he knows the nature of your inquiry. He said to tell you he does not wish to form an alliance, nor does he have any intention of going on a joint plateau assault with you.\"\n\nDalinar's expression grew darker. He dismissed the messenger with a wave, then turned to Adolin. The Cobalt Guard still kept a space open around them so they could talk.\n\n\"Thanadal was the last of them,\" Dalinar said. Each highprince had turned him down in his own way. Hatham with exceeding politeness, Bethab by letting his wife give the explanation, Thanadal with hostile civility. \"All of them but Sadeas, at least.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I doubt it would be wise to approach him with this, Father.\"\n\n\"You're probably right.\" Dalinar's voice was cold. He was angry. Furious, even. \"They're sending me a message. They've never liked the influence I have over the king, and they're eager to see me fall. They don't want to do something I ask them to, just in case it might help me regain my footing.\"\n\n\"Father, I'm sorry.\"\n\n\"Perhaps it's for the best. The important point is that I have failed. I can't get them to work together. Elhokar was right.\" He looked to Adolin. \"I would like you to continue inspections for me, son. There's something I want to do.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Just some work I see needs to be done.\"\n\nAdolin wanted to object, but he couldn't think of the words to say. Finally, he sighed and gave a nod. \"You'll tell me what this is about, though?\"\n\n\"Soon,\" Dalinar promised. \"Very soon.\"\n\nDalinar watched his son leave, striding purposefully away. He would make a good highprince. Dalinar's decision was a simple one.\n\nWas it time to step aside, and let his son take his place?\n\nIf he took this step, Dalinar would be expected to stay out of politics, retiring to his lands and leaving Adolin to rule. It was a painful decision to contemplate, and he had to be careful not to make it hastily. But if he really was going mad, as everyone in the camp seemed to believe, then he had to step down. And soon, before his condition progressed to the point that he no longer had the presence of mind to let go." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A monarch is control, he thought, remembering a passage from The Way of Kings. He provides stability. It is his service and his trade good. If he cannot control himself, then how can he control the lives of men? What merchant worth his Stormlight won't partake of the very fruit he sells?\n\nOdd, that those quotes still came to him, even as he was wondering if they had-in part-driven him to madness. \"Niter,\" he said. \"Fetch my warhammer. Have it waiting for meat the staging field.\"\n\nDalinar wanted to be moving, working, as he thought. His guards hastened to keep up as he strode down the pathway between the barracks of Battalions Six and Seven. Niter sent several men to fetch the weapon. His voice sounded strangely excited, as if he thought Dalinar was going to do something impressive.\n\nDalinar doubted he would think it so. He eventually strode out onto the staging field, cape fluttering behind him, plated boots clanking against the stones. He didn't have to wait long for the hammer; it came pulled by two men on a small cart. Sweating, the soldiers heaved it from the cart, the haft as thick as a man's wrist and the front of the head larger than an outspread palm. Two men together could barely lift it.\n\nDalinar grabbed the hammer with one gauntleted hand, swinging it up to rest on his shoulder. He ignored the soldiers performing exercises on the field, walking to where the group of dirty workers chipped at the latrine ditch. They looked up at him, horrified to seethe highprince himself looming over them in full Shardplate.\n\n\"Who's in charge here?\" Dalinar asked.\n\nA scruffy civilian in brown trousers raised a nervous hand. \"Brightlord, how may we serve you?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"By relaxing fora little while,\" Dalinar said. \"Outwith you.\"\n\nThe worried workers scrambled out. Lighteyed officers gathered behind, confused by Dalinar's actions.\n\nDalinar gripped the haft of his warhammer in a gauntleted hand; the metal shaft was wrapped tightly with leather. Taking a deep breath, he leaped down into the half-finished ditch, lifted the hammer, then swung, slamming the weapon down against the rock.\n\nA powerful crack rang across the practice field, and a wave of shock ran up Dalinar's arms. The Shardplate absorbed most of the recoil, and he left a large crack in the stones. He hefted and swung again, this time breaking free a large section of rock. Though it would have been difficult for two or three regular men to lift, Dalinar grabbed it with one hand and tossed it aside. It clattered across the stones.\n\nWhere were the Shards for regular men? Why hadn't the ancients, who were so wise, created anything to help them? As Dalinar continued to work, beats of his hammer throwing chips and dust into the air, he easily did the work of twenty men. Shardplate could be used for so many things to ease the lives of workers and darkeyes across Roshar.\n\nIt felt good to be working. To be doing something useful. Lately, he felt as if his efforts had been akin to running about in circles. The work helped him think.\n\nHe was losing his thirst for battle. That worried him, as the Thrill-the enjoyment and longing for war-was part of what drove the Alethi as a people. The grandest of masculine arts was to become a great warrior, and the most important Calling was to fight. The Almighty himself depended on the Alethi to train themselves in honorable battle so that when they died, they could join the Heralds' army and win back the Tranquiline Halls." }, { "from": "human", "value": "And yet, thinking about killing was starting to sicken him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It had grown worse since that last bridge assault. What would happen next time he went into battle? He could not lead this way. That was a major reason that abdicating in favor of Adolin looked right.\n\nHe continued to swing. Again and again, beating against the stones. Soldiers gathered above and-despite his orders-the workers did not leave to relax. They watched, dumbfounded, as a Shardbearer did their work. Occasionally, he summoned his Blade and used it to cut the rock, slicing out sections before returning to the hammer to break them apart.\n\nHe probably looked ridiculous. He couldn't do the work of all of the laborers in camp, and he had important tasks to fill his time. There was no reason for him to get down in a trench and toil. And yet it felt so good. So wonderful to pitch indirectly with the needs of the camp. The results of what he did to protect Elhokar were often difficult to gauge; it was fulfilling to be able to do something where his progress was obvious.\n\nBut even in this, he was acting according to the ideals that had infected him. The book spoke of a king carrying the burdens of his people. It said that those who led were the lowest of men, for they were required to serve everyone. It all swirled around in him. The Codes, the teachings of the book, the things the visions-or delusions-showed.\n\nNever fight other men except when forced to in war.\n\nBang!\n\nLet your actions defend you, not your words.\n\nBang!\n\nExpect honor from those you meet, and give them the chance to live up to it.\n\nBang!\n\nRule as you would be ruled.\n\nBang!\n\nHe stood waist-deep in what would eventually be a latrine, his ears filled with the groans of breaking stone. He was coming to believe those ideals. No, he'd already come to believe them. Now he was living them. What would the world be like if all men lived as the book proclaimed?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Someone had to start. Someone had to be the model. In this, he had a reason not to abdicate. Whether or not he was mad, the way he now did things was better than the way Sadeas or the others did them. One needed only look at the lives of his soldiers and his people to see that was true.\n\nBang!\n\nStone could not be changed without pounding. Was it the same with a manlike him? Was that why everything was so hard for him suddenly? But why him? Dalinar wasn't a philosopher or idealist. He was a soldier. And-if he admitted the truth-in earlier years, he'd been a tyrant and a warmonger. Could twilight years spent pretending to follow the precepts of better men erase a lifetime of butchery?\n\nHe had begun to sweat. The swath he had cut through the ground was as wide as a man was tall, as deep as his chest, and some thirty yards long. The longer he worked, the more people gathered to watch and whisper.\n\nShardplate was sacred. Was the highprince really digging a latrine with it? Had the stress affected him that profoundly? Frightened of highstorms. Growing cowardly. Refusing to duel or defend himself from slurs. Afraid of fighting, wishing to give up the war.\n\nSuspected of trying to kill the king.\n\nEventually, Teleb decided that letting all the people stare down at Dalinar wasn't respectful, and he ordered the men back to their separate duties. He cleared away the workers, taking Dalinar's order to heart and commanding them to sit in the shade and'converse in a lighthearted manner.\" From someone else, that command might have been said with a smile, but Teleb was as literal as the rocks themselves." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Still Dalinar worked." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He knew where the latrine was supposed to end; he'd approved the work order. Along, sloping trough was to be cut, then covered with oiled and tarred boards to seal in the scent. A latrine house would beset at the high end, and the contents could be Soulcast to smoke once every few months.\n\nThe work felt even better once he was alone. One man, breaking rocks, pounding beat after beat. Like the drums the Parshendi had played on that day so long past. Dalinar could feel those beats still, could hear them in his mind, shaking him.\n\nI'm sorry, brother.\n\nHe had spoken to the ardents about his visions. They felt that the visions were most likely a product of an overtaxed mind.\n\nHe had no reason to believe the truth of anything the visions showed him. In following them, he had done more than just ignore Sadeas's maneuvers; he'd depleted his resources precariously. His reputation was on the brink of ruin. He was in danger of dragging down the entire Kholin house.\n\nAnd that was the most important point in favor of him abdicating. If he continued, his actions could very well lead to the deaths of Adolin, Renarin, and Elhokar. He would risk his own life for his ideals, but could he risk the lives of his sons?\n\nChips sprayed, bouncing off his Plate. He was beginning to feel worn and tired. The Plate didn't do the work for him-it enhanced his strength, so each strike of the hammer was his own. His fingers were growing numb from the repeated vibration of the hammer's haft. He was close to a decision. His mind was calm, clear.\n\nHe swung the hammer again.\n\n\"Wouldn't the Blade be more efficient?\" asked a dry, feminine voice." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Move the story forward in your role as narrative aide.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, knights radiant\nAuthor: Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: The Way of Kings\nChapter: 59" }, { "from": "human", "value": "The wretch seemed to be standing before him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He meant release. Apathy. Did Kaladin really want to go back to that? It was a false refuge. Being that man hadn't protected him. It had only led him deeper and deeper until taking his own life had seemed the better way.\n\nLife before death.\n\nKaladin stood up, opening his eyes, dropping the small rock. He walked slowly back toward the torchlight. The bridgemen looked up from their work. So many questioning eyes. Some doubtful, some grim, others encouraging. Rock, Dunny, Hobber, Leyten. They believed in him. He had survived the storms. One miracle granted.\n\n\"There is something we could try,\" Kaladin said. \"But it will most likely end with us all dead at the hands of our own army.\"\n\n\"We're bound to end up dead anyway,\" Maps noted. \"You said so yourself.\" Several of the others nodded.\n\nKaladin took a deep breath. \"We have to try to escape.\"\n\n\"But the warcamp is guarded!\" said Earless Jaks. \"Bridgemen aren't allowed out without supervision. They know we'd run.\"\n\n\"We'd die,\" Moash said, face grim. \"We're miles and miles from civilization. There's nothing out here but greatshells, and no shelter from highstorms.\"\n\n\"I know,\" Kaladin said. \"But it's either this or the Parshendi arrows.\"\n\nThe men fell silent.\n\n\"They're going to send us down here everyday to rob corpses,\" Kaladin said. \"And they don't send us with supervision, since they fear the chasmfiends. Most bridgeman work is busywork, to distract us from our fate, so we only have to bring back a small amount of salvage.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"You think we should choose one of these chasms and flee down it?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Skar asked. \"They've tried to map them all. The crews never reached the other side of the Plains-they got killed by chasmfiends or highstorm floods.\"\n\nKaladin shook his head. \"That's not what we're going to do.\" He kicked at something on the ground before him-a fallen spear. His kick sent it into the air toward Moash, who caught it, surprised.\n\n\"I can train you to use those,\" Kaladin said softly.\n\nThe men fell silent, looking at the weapon.\n\n\"What good would this thing do?\" Rock asked, taking the spear from Moash, looking it over. \"We cannot fight an army.\"\n\n\"No,\" Kaladin said. \"But if I train you, then we can attack a guard post at night. We might be able to getaway.\" Kaladin looked at them, meeting each man's eyes in turn. \"Once we're free, they'll send soldiers after us. Sadeas won't let bridgemen kill his soldiers and getaway with it. We'll have to hope he underestimates us and sends a small group at first. If we kill them, we might be able to get far enough away to hide. It will be dangerous. Sadeas will go to great lengths to recapture us, and we'll likely end with an entire company chasing us down. Storm it, we'll probably never escape the camp in the first place. But it's something.\"\n\nHe fell silent, waiting as the men exchanged uncertain glances.\n\n\"I'll do it,\" Teft said, straightening up.\n\n\"Me too,\" Moash said, stepping forward. He seemed eager.\n\n\"And I,\" Sigzil said. \"I would rather spit in their Alethi faces and die on their swords than remain a slave.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Ha!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rock said. \"And I shall cook you all much food to keep you full while you kill.\"\n\n\"You won't fight with us?\" Dunny asked, surprised.\n\n\"Is beneath me,\" Rock said raising his chin.\n\n\"Well, I'll do it,\" Dunny said. \"I'm your man, Captain.\"\n\nOthers began to chime in, each man standing, several grabbing spears from the wet ground. They didn't yell in excitement or roar like other troops Kaladin had led. They were frightened by the idea of fighting-most had been common slaves or lowly workmen. But they were willing.\n\nKaladin stepped forward and began to outline a plan." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "FIVE YEARS AGO\n\nKaladin hated the Weeping. It marked the end of an old year and the coming of anew one, four solid weeks of rain in a ceaseless cascade of sullen drops. Never furious, never passionate like a highstorm. Slow, steady. Like the blood of a dying year that was taking its last few shambling steps toward the cairn. While other seasons of weather came and went unpredictably, the Weeping never failed to return at the same time each year. Unfortunately.\n\nKaladin lay on the sloped roof of his house in Hearthstone. A small pail of pitch sat next to him, covered by apiece of wood. It was almost empty now that he'd finished patching the roof. The Weeping was a miserable time to do this work, but it was also when a persistent leak could be most irritating. They'd repatch when the Weeping ended, but at least this way they wouldn't have to suffer a steady stream of drips onto their dining table for the next weeks.\n\nHe lay on his back, staring up at the sky. Perhaps he should have climbed down and gone inside, but he was already soaked through. So he stayed. Watching, thinking.\n\nAnother army was passing through the town. One of many these days-they often came during the Weeping, resupplying and moving to new battlefields. Roshone had made a rare appearance to welcome the warlord: Highmarshal Amaram himself, apparently a distant cousin as well as head of Alethi defense in this area. He was of the most renowned soldiers still in Alethkar; most had left for the Shattered Plains.\n\nThe small raindrops misted Kaladin. Many of the others liked these weeks-there were no highstorms, save for one right in the middle. To the townspeople, it was a cherished time to rest from farming and relax. But Kaladin longed for the sun and the wind. He actually missed the highstorms, with their rage and vitality. These days were dreary, and he found it difficult to get anything productive done. As if the lack of storms left him without strength." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Few people had seen much of Roshone since the ill-fated whitespine hunt and the death of his son. He hid in his mansion, increasingly reclusive. The people of Hearthstone trod very lightly, as if they expected that any moment he could explode and turn his rage against them. Kaladin wasn't worried about that. A storm-whether from a person or the sky-was something you could react to. But this suffocation, this slow and steady dousing of life... That was far, far worse.\n\n\"Kaladin?\" Tien's voice called. \"Are you still up there?\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" he called back, not moving. The clouds were so bland during the Weeping. Could anything be more lifeless than that miserable grey?\n\nTien rounded to the back of the building, where the roof sloped down to touch the ground. He had his hands in the pockets of his long raincoat, a wide-brimmed hat on his head. Both looked too large for him, but clothing always seemed too large for Tien. Even when it fit him properly.\n\nKaladin's brother climbed up onto the roof and walked up beside him, then lay down, staring upward. Someone else might have tried to cheer Kaladin up, and they would have failed. But somehow Tien knew the right thing to do. For the moment, that was keeping silent.\n\n\"You like the rain, don't you?\" Kaladin finally asked him.\n\n\"Yeah,\" Tien said. Of course, Tien liked pretty much everything. \"Hard to stare up at like this, though. I keep blinking.\"\n\nFor some reason, that made Kaladin smile.\n\n\"I made you something,\" Tien said. \"At the shop today.\"\n\nKaladin's parents were worried; Ral the carpenter had taken Tien, though he didn't really need another apprentice, and was reportedly dissatisfied with the boy's work. Tien got distracted easily, Ral complained." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kaladin sat up as Tien fished something out of his pocket. It was a small wooden horse, intricately carved.\n\n\"Don't worry about the water,\" Tien said, handing it over. \"I sealed it already.\"\n\n\"Tien,\" Kaladin said, amazed. \"This is beautiful.\" The details were amazing-the eyes, the hooves, the lines in the tail. It looked just like the majestic animals that pulled Roshone's carriage. \"Did you show this to Ral?\"\n\n\"He said it was good,\" Tien said, smiling beneath his oversized hat. \"But he told me I should have been making a chair instead. I kind of got into trouble.\"\n\n\"But how... I mean, Tien, he's got to see this is amazing!\"\n\n\"Oh, I don't know about that,\" Tien said, still smiling. \"It's just a horse. Master Ral likes things you can use. Things to sit on, things to put clothes in. But I think I can make a good chair tomorrow, something that will make him proud.\"\n\nKaladin looked at his brother, with his innocent face and affable nature. He hadn't lost either, though he was now into his teenage years. How is it you can always smile? Kaladin thought. It's dreadful outside, your master treats you like crem, and your family is slowly being strangled by the citylord. And yet you smile. How, Tien?\n\nAnd why is it that you make me want to smile too?\n\n\"Father spent another of the spheres, Tien,\" Kaladin found himself saying. Each time their father was forced to do that, he seemed to grow a little more wan, stand a little less tall. Those spheres were dun these days, no light in them. You couldn't infuse spheres during the Weeping. They all ran out, eventually." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There are plenty more,\" Tien said.\n\n\"Roshone is trying to wear us down,\" Kaladin said. \"Bit by bit, smother us.\"\n\n\"It's not as bad as it seems, Kaladin,\" his brother said, reaching up to hold his arm. \"Things are never as bad as they seem. You'll see.\"\n\nSo many objections rose in his mind, but Tien's smile banished them. There, in the midst of the dreariest part of the year, Kaladin felt fora moment as if he had glimpsed sunshine. He could swear he felt things grow brighter around them, the storm retreating a shade, the sky lightening.\n\nTheir mother rounded the back of the building. She looked up at them, as if amused to find them both sitting on the roof in the rain. She stepped onto the lower portion. A small group of haspers clung to the stone there; the small two-shelled creatures proliferated during the Weeping. They seemed to grow out of nowhere, much like their cousins the tiny snails, scattered all across the stone.\n\n\"What are you two talking about?\" she asked, walking up and sitting down with them. Hesina rarely acted like the other mothers in town. Sometimes, that bothered Kaladin. Shouldn't she have sent them into the house or something, complaining that they'd catch a cold? No, she just sat down with them, wearing a brown leather raincoat.\n\n\"Kaladin's worried about Father spending the spheres,\" Tien said.\n\n\"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that,\" she replied. \"We'll get you to Kharbranth. You'll be old enough to leave in two more months.\"\n\n\"You two should come with me,\" Kal said. \"And Father too.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And leave the town?\" Tien said, as if he'd never considered that possibility. \"But I like it here.\"\n\nHesina smiled.\n\n\"What?\" Kaladin said.\n\n\"Most young men your age are trying everything they canto be rid of their parents.\"\n\n\"I can't go off and leave you here. We're a family.\"\n\n\"He's trying to strangle us,\" Kaladin said, glancing at Tien. Talking with his brother had made him feel a lot better, but his objections were still there. \"Nobody pays for healing, and I know nobody will pay you for work anymore. What kind of value does Father get for those spheres he spends anyway? Vegetables at ten times the regular price, moldy grain at double?\"\n\nHesina smiled. \"Observant.\"\n\n\"Father taught me to notice details. The eyes of a surgeon.\"\n\n\"Well,\" she said, eyes twinkling, \"did your surgeon's eyes notice the first time we spent one of the spheres?\"\n\n\"Sure,\" Kaladin said. \"It was the day after the hunting accident. Father had to buy new cloth to make bandages.\"\n\n\"And did we need new bandages?\"\n\n\"Well, no. But you know how Father is. He doesn't like it when we start to run even a little low.\"\n\n\"And so he spent one of those spheres,\" Hesina said. \"That he'd hoarded for months and months, butting heads with the citylord over them.\"\n\nNot to mention going to such lengths to steal them in the first place, Kaladin thought. But you know all about that. He glanced at Tien, who was watching the sky again. So far as Kal knew, his brother hadn't discovered the truth yet." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So your father resisted so long,\" Hesina said, \"only to finally break and spend a sphere on some cloth bandages we wouldn't need for months.\"\n\nShe had a point. Why had his father suddenly decided to...\"He's letting Roshone think he's winning,\" Kaladin said with surprise, looking back at her.\n\nHesina smiled slyly. \"Roshone would have found away to get retribution eventually. It wouldn't have been easy. Your father ranks high as a citizen, and has the right of inquest. He did save Roshone's life, and many could testify to the severity of Rillir's wounds. But Roshone would have found away. Unless he felt he'd broken us.\"\n\nKaladin turned toward the mansion. Though it was hidden by the shroud of rain, he could just make out the tents of the army camped on the field below. What would it be like to live as a soldier, often exposed to storms and rain, to winds and tempests? Once Kaladin would have been intrigued, but the life of a spearman had no call for him now. His mind was filled with diagrams of muscles and memorized lists of symptoms and diseases.\n\n\"We'll keep spending the spheres,\" Hesina said. \"One every few weeks. Partially to live, though my family has offered supplies. More to keep Roshone thinking that we're bending. And then, we send you away. Unexpectedly. You'll begone, the spheres safely in the hands of the ardents to use as a stipend during your years of study.\"\n\nKaladin blinked in realization. They weren't losing. They were winning.\n\n\"Think of it, Kaladin,\" Tien said. \"You'll live in one of the grandest cities in the world! It will be so exciting. You'll be a man of learning, like Father. You'll have clerks to read to you from any book you want.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kaladin pushed wet hair off his forehead. Tien made it sound a lot grander than he'd been thinking. Of course, Tien could make a crem-filled puddle sound grand.\n\n\"That's true,\" his mother said, still staring upward. \"You could learn mathematics, history, politics, tactics, the sciences...\"\n\n\"Aren't those things women learn?\" Kaladin said, frowning.\n\n\"Lighteyed women study them. But there are male scholars as well. If not as many.\"\n\n\"All this to become a surgeon.\"\n\n\"You wouldn't have to become a surgeon. Your life is your own, son. If you take the path of a surgeon, we will be proud. But don't feel that you need to live your father's life for him.\" She looked down at Kaladin, blinking rainwater from her eyes.\n\n\"What else would I do?\" Kaladin said, stupefied.\n\n\"There are many professions open to men with a good mind and training. If you really wished to study all the arts, you could become an ardent. Or perhaps a stormwarden.\"\n\nStormwarden. He reached by reflex for the prayer sewn to his left sleeve, waiting for the day he'd need to burn it for aid. \"They seek to predict the future.\"\n\n\"It's not the same thing. You'll see. There are so many things to explore, so many places your mind could go. The world is changing. My family's most recent letter describes amazing fabrials, like pens that can write across great distances. It might not belong before men are taught to read.\"\n\n\"I'd never want to learn something like that,\" Kaladin said, aghast, glancing at Tien. Was their own mother really saying these things? But then, she'd always been like this. Free, both with her mind and her tongue." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Yet, to become a stormwarden..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They studied the highstorms, predicted them-yes-but learned about them and their mysteries. They studied the winds themselves.\n\n\"No,\" Kaladin said. \"I want to be a surgeon. Like my father.\"\n\nHesina smiled. \"If that's what you choose, then-as I said-we will be proud of you. But father and I just want you to know that you can choose.\"\n\nThey sat like that for sometime, letting rainwater soak them. Kaladin kept searching those grey clouds, wondering what it was that Tien found so interesting in them. Eventually, he heard splashing below, and Lirin's face appeared at the side of the house.\n\n\"What in the...\" he said. \"All three of you? What are you doing up here?\"\n\n\"Feasting,\" Kaladin's mother said nonchalantly.\n\n\"On what?\"\n\n\"On irregularity, dear,\" she said.\n\nLirin sighed. \"Dear, you can be very odd, you know.\"\n\n\"And didn't I just say that?\"\n\n\"Point. Well, come on. There's a gathering in the square.\"\n\nHesina frowned. She rose and walked down the slope of the roof. Kaladin glanced at Tien, and the two of them stood. Kaladin stuffed the wooden horse in his pocket and picked his way down, careful on the slick rock, his shoes squishing. Cool water ran down Kaladin's cheeks as he stepped off onto the ground.\n\nThey followed Lirin toward the square. Kaladin's father looked worried, and he walked with the beaten-down slouch he was prone to lately. Maybe it was an affectation to fool Roshone, but Kaladin suspected there was some truth to it. His father didn't like having to give up those spheres, even if it was part of a ruse. It was too much like giving in." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ahead, a crowd was gathering at the town square, everyone holding umbrellas or wearing cloaks.\n\n\"What is it, Lirin?\" Hesina asked, sounding anxious.\n\n\"Roshone is going to put in an appearance,\" Lirin said. \"He asked Waber to gather everyone. Full town meeting.\"\n\n\"In the rain?\" Kaladin asked. \"Couldn't he have waited for Lightday?\"\n\nLirin didn't reply. The family walked in silence, even Tien growing solemn. They passed some rainspren standing in puddles, glowing with a faint blue light, shaped like ankle-high melting candles with no flame. They rarely appeared except during the Weeping. They were said to be the souls of raindrops, glowing blue rods, seeming to melt but never growing smaller, a single blue eye at their tops.\n\nThe townspeople were mostly assembled, gossiping in the rain, by the time Kaladin's family arrived. Jost and Naget were there, though neither waved to Kaladin; it had been years since they'd been anything resembling friends. Kaladin shivered. His parents called this town home, and his father refused to leave, but it felt less and less like'home\" by the day.\n\nI'll be leaving it soon, he thought, eager to walkout of Hearthstone and leave these small-minded people behind. Togo to a place where lighteyes were men and women of honor and beauty, worthy of the high station given them by the Almighty.\n\nRoshone's carriage approached. It had lost much of its luster during his years in Hearthstone, the golden paint flaking off, the dark wood chipped byroad gravel. As the carriage pulled into the square, Waber and his boys finally got a small canopy erected. The rain had strengthened, and drops hit the cloth with a hollow drumming sound." }, { "from": "human", "value": "The air smelled different with all of these people around." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Upon the roof, it had been fresh and clean. Now it seemed muggy and humid. The carriage door opened. Roshone had gained more weight, and his lighteyes's suit had been retailored to fit his increased girth. He wore a wooden peg on his right stump, hidden by the cuff of his trouser, and his gait was stiff as he climbed out of the carriage and ducked beneath the canopy, grumbling.\n\nHe hardly seemed the same person, with that beard and wet, stringy hair. But his eyes, they were the same. More beady now because of the fuller cheeks, but still seething as he studied the crowd. As if he had been hit with a rock when he wasn't looking, and now searched for the culprit.\n\nWas Laral inside the carriage? Someone else moved inside, climbing out, but it turned out to be a lean man with a clean-shaven face and light tan eyes. The dignified man wore a neatly pressed, green formal military uniform and had a sword at his hip. Highmarshal Amaram? He certainly looked impressive, with that strong figure and square face. The difference between him and Roshone was striking.\n\nFinally, Laral did appear, wearing alight yellow dress of an antique fashion, with a flaring skirt and thick bodice. She glanced up at the rain, then waited fora footman to hurry over with an umbrella. Kaladin felt his heart thumping. They hadn't spoken since the day she'd humiliated him in Roshone's mansion. And yet, she was gorgeous. As she had grown through her adolescence, she had gotten prettier and prettier. Some might find that dark hair sprinkled with foreigner blond to be unappealing for its indication of mixed blood, but to Kaladin it was alluring.\n\nBeside Kaladin, his father stiffened, cursing softly." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"What?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Tien asked from beside Kaladin, craning to see.\n\n\"Laral,\" Kaladin's mother said. \"She's wearing a bride's prayer on her sleeve.\"\n\nKaladin started, seeing the white cloth with its blue glyphpair sewn onto the sleeve of her dress. She'd burn it when the engagement was formally announced.\n\nBut... who? Rillir was dead!\n\n\"I'd heard rumors of this,\" Kaladin's father said. \"It appears Roshone wasn't willing to part with the connections she offers.\"\n\n\"Him?\" Kaladin asked, stunned. Roshone himself was marrying her? Others in the crowd had begun speaking as they noticed the prayer.\n\n\"Lighteyes marry much younger women all the time,\" Kaladin's mother said. \"For them, marriages are often about securing house loyalty.\"\n\n\"Him?\" Kaladin asked again, incredulous, stepping forward. \"We have to stop it. We have to-\"\n\n\"Kaladin,\" his father said sharply.\n\n\"But-\"\n\n\"It is their affair, not ours.\"\n\nKaladin fell silent, feeling the larger raindrops hit his head, the smaller ones blowing by as mist. The water ran through the square and pooled in depressions. Near Kaladin, a rainspren sprang up, forming as if out of the water. It stared upward, unblinking.\n\nRoshone leaned on his cane and nodded to Natir, his steward. The man was accompanied by his wife, astern-looking woman named Alaxia. Natir clapped his slender hands to quiet the crowd, and soon the only sound was that of the soft rain.\n\n\"Brightlord Amaram,\" Roshone said, nodding to the lighteyed man in the uniform, \"is absendiar highmarshal of our princedom. He is in command of defending our borders while the king and Brightlord Sadeas are away.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Kaladin nodded." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Everyone knew of Amaram. He was far more important than most military men who passed through Hearthstone.\n\nAmaram stepped forward to speak.\n\n\"You have a fine town here,\" Amaram said to the gathered darkeyes. He had a strong, deep voice. \"Thank you for hosting me.\"\n\nKaladin frowned, glancing at the other townspeople. They seemed as confused as he by the statement.\n\n\"Normally,\" Amaram said, \"I would leave this task to one of my subordinate officers. But as I was visiting with my cousin, I decided to comedown in person. It is not so onerous a task that I need delegate it.\"\n\n\"Excuse me, Brightlord,\" said Callins, one of the farmers. \"But what duty is that?\"\n\n\"Why, recruitment, good farmer,\" Amaram said, nodding to Alaxia, who stepped forward with a sheet of paper strapped to aboard. \"The king took most of our armies with him on his quest to fulfill the Vengeance Pact. My forces are undermanned, and it has become necessary to recruit young men from each town or village we pass. I do this with volunteers whenever possible.\"\n\nThe townspeople fell still. Boys talked of running off to the army, but few of them would actually do it. Hearthstone's duty was to provide food.\n\n\"My fighting is not as glorious as the war for vengeance,\" Amaram said, \"but it is our sacred duty to defend our lands. This tour will be for four years, and upon completing your duty, you will receive a war bonus equal to one-tenth your total wages. You may then return, or you may sign up for further duty. Distinguish yourself and rise to a high rank, and it could mean an increase of one nahn for you and your children. Are there any volunteers?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'll go,\" Jost said, stepping forward.\n\n\"Me too,\" Abry added.\n\n\"Jost!\" Jost's mother said, grabbing his arm. \"The crops-\"\n\n\"Your crops are important, darkwoman,\" Amaram said, \"but not nearly as important as the defense of our people. The king sends back riches from the plundered Plains, and the gemstones he has captured can provide food for Alethkar in emergency. You two are both welcome. Are there any others?\"\n\nThree more boys from the town stepped forward, and one older man-Harl, who had lost his wife to the scarfever. He was the man whose daughter Kaladin hadn't been able to save after her fall.\n\n\"Excellent,\" Amaram said. \"Are there any others?\"\n\nThe townspeople were still. Oddly so. Many of the boys Kaladin had heard talk so often about joining the army looked away. Kaladin felt his heart beating, and his leg twitched, as if itching to propel him forward.\n\nNo. He was to be a surgeon. Lirin looked at him, and his dark brown eyes displayed hints of deep concern. But when Kaladin didn't make any moves forward, he relaxed.\n\n\"Very well,\" Amaram said, nodding to Roshone. \"We will need your list after all.\"\n\n\"List?\" Lirin asked loudly.\n\nAmaram glanced at him. \"The need of our army is great, darkborn. I will take volunteers first, but the army must be replenished. As citylord, my cousin has the duty and honor of deciding which men to send.\"\n\n\"Read the first four names, Alaxia,\" Roshone said, \"and the last one.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Alaxia looked down at her list, speaking with a dry voice. \"Agil, son of Marf. Caull, son of Taleb.\"\n\nKaladin looked up at Lirin with apprehension.\n\n\"He can't take you,\" Lirin said. \"We're of the second nahn and provide an essential function to the town-I as surgeon, you as my only apprentice. By the law, we are exempt from conscription. Roshone knows it.\"\n\n\"Habrin, son of Arafik,\" Alaxia continued. \"Jorna, son of Loats.\" She hesitated, then looked up. \"Tien, son of Lirin.\"\n\nThere was a stillness across the square. Even the rain seemed to hesitate fora moment. Then, all eyes turned toward Tien. The boy looked dumbfounded. Lirin was immune as town surgeon, Kaladin immune as his apprentice.\n\nBut not Tien. He was a carpenter's third apprentice, not vital, not immune.\n\nHesina gripped Tien tightly. \"No!\"\n\nLirin stepped in front of them, defensive. Kaladin stood stunned, looking at Roshone. Smiling, self-satisfied Roshone.\n\nWe took his son, Kaladin realized, meeting those beady eyes. This is his revenge.\n\n\"I...\" Tien said. \"The military?\" For once, he seemed to lose his confidence, his optimism. His eyes opened wide, and he grew very pale. He fainted when he saw blood. He hated fighting. He was still small and spindly despite his age.\n\n\"He's too young,\" Lirin declared. Their neighbors sidled away, leaving Lirin's family to standalone in the rain.\n\nAmaram frowned. \"In the cities, youths as young as eight and nine are accepted into the military.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Lighteyed sons!\" Lirin said. \"To be trained as officers. They aren't sent into battle!\"\n\nAmaram frowned more deeply. He stepped out into the rain, walking up to the family. \"How old are you, son?\" he asked Tien.\n\n\"He's thirteen,\" Lirin said.\n\nAmaram glanced at him. \"The surgeon. I've heard of you.\" He sighed, glancing back at Amaram. \"I haven't the time to engage in your petty, small-town politics, cousin. Isn't there another boy that will do?\"\n\n\"It is my choice!\" Roshone insisted. \"Given me by the dictates of law. I send those the town can spare-well, that boy is the first one we can spare.\"\n\nLirin stepped forward, eyes full of anger. Highmarshal Amaram caught him by the arm. \"Do not do something you would regret, darkborn. Roshone has acted according to the law.\"\n\n\"You hid behind the law, sneering at me, surgeon,\" Roshone called to Lirin. \"Well, now it turns against you. Keep those spheres! The look on your face at this moment is worth the price of everyone of them!\"\n\n\"I...\" Tien said again. Kaladin had never seen the boy so terrified.\n\nKaladin felt powerless. The crowd's eyes were on Lirin, standing with his arm in the grip of the lighteyed general, locking his gaze with Roshone.\n\n\"I'll make the lad a runner boy fora year or two,\" Amaram promised. \"He won't be in combat. It is the best I can do. Everybody is needed in these times.\"\n\nLirin slumped, then bowed his head. Roshone laughed, motioning Laral toward the carriage. She didn't glance at Kaladin as she climbed back in. Roshone followed, and though he was still laughing, his expression had grown hard. Lifeless. Like the dull clouds above. He had his revenge, but his son was still dead and he was still stuck in Hearthstone." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Amaram regarded the crowd." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The recruits may bring two changes of clothing and up to three stoneweights of other possessions. They will be weighed. Report to the army in two hours and ask for Sergeant Hav.\" He turned and followed Roshone.\n\nTien stared after him, pale as a whitewashed building. Kaladin could see his terror at leaving his family. His brother, the one who always made him smile when it rained. It was physically painful for Kaladin to see him so scared. It wasn't right. Tien should smile. That was who he was.\n\nHe felt the wooden horse in his pocket. Tien always brought him relief when he felt pained. Suddenly, it occurred to him that there was something he could do in turn. It's time to stop hiding in the room when someone else holds up the globe of light, Kaladin thought. It's time to be a man.\n\n\"Brightlord Amaram!\" Kaladin yelled.\n\nThe general hesitated, standing on the stepstool into the carriage, one foot in the door. He glanced over his shoulder.\n\n\"I want to take Tien's place,\" Kaladin said.\n\n\"Not allowed!\" Roshone said from inside the carriage. \"The law says I may choose.\"\n\nAmaram nodded grimly.\n\n\"Then what if you take meas well,\" Kaladin said. \"Can I volunteer?\" That way, at least, Tien wouldn't be alone.\n\n\"Kaladin!\" Hesina said, grabbing him on one arm.\n\n\"It is allowed,\" Amaram said. \"I will not turn away any soldier, son. If you want to join, you are welcome.\"\n\n\"Kaladin, no,\" Lirin said. \"Don't both of you go. Don't-\"\n\nKaladin looked at Tien, the boy's face wet beneath his wide-brimmed hat. He shook his head, but his eyes seemed hopeful." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"I volunteer,\" Kaladin said, turning back to Amaram." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'll go.\"\n\n\"Then you have two hours,\" Amaram said, climbing into the carriage. \"Same possession allotment as the others.\"\n\nThe carriage door shut, but not before Kaladin got a glimpse of an even more satisfied Roshone. Rattling, the vehicle splashed away, dropping a sheet of water from its roof.\n\n\"Why?\" Lirin said, turning back to Kaladin, his voice ragged. \"Why have you done this tome? After all of our plans!\"\n\nKaladin turned to Tien. The boy took his arm. \"Thank you,\" Tien whispered. \"Thank you, Kaladin. Thank you.\"\n\n\"I've lost both of you,\" Lirin said hoarsely, splashing away. \"Storm it! Both of you.\" He was crying. Kaladin's mother was crying too. She clutched Tien again.\n\n\"Father!\" Kaladin said, turning, amazed at how confident he felt.\n\nLirin paused, standing in the rain, one foot in a puddle where rainspren clustered. They inched away from him like vertical slugs.\n\n\"In four years, I will bring him home safely,\" Kaladin said. \"I promise it by the storms and the Almighty's tenth name itself. I will bring him back.\"\n\nI promise...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They are an oddly welcoming group, these wild parshmen, Shallan read. It was King Gavilar's account again, recorded a year before his murder. It has now been nearly five months since our first meeting. Dalinar continues to pressure me to return to our homeland, insisting that the expedition has stretched too long.\n\nThe parshmen promise that they will lead me on a hunt fora great-shelled beast they call an ulo mas vara, which my scholars say translates roughly to'Monster of the Chasms.\" If their descriptions are accurate, these creatures have large gemhearts, and one of their heads would make a truly impressive trophy. They also speak of their terrible gods, and we think they must be referring to several particularly large chasm greatshells.\n\nWe are amazed to find religion among these parshmen. The mounting evidence of a complete parshman society-with civilization, culture, and a unique language-is astounding. My stormwardens have begun calling this people'the Parshendi.\" It is obvious this group is very different from our ordinary servant parshmen, and may not even be the same race, despite the skin patterns. Perhaps they are distant cousins, as different from ordinary parshmen as Alethi axehounds are from the Selay breed.\n\nThe Parshendi have seen our servants, and are confused by them. \"Where is their music?\" Klade will often ask me. I do not know what he means. But our servants do not react to the Parshendi at all, showing no interest in emulating them. This is reassuring.\n\nThe question about music may have to do with the humming and chanting the Parshendi often do. They have an uncanny ability to make music together. I swear that I have left one Parshendi singing to himself, then soon passed another out of earshot of the first, yet singing the very same song-eerily near to the other in tempo, tune, and lyric." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Their favored instrument is the drum." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They are crudely made, with handprints of paint marking the sides. This matches their simple buildings, which they construct of crem and stone. They build them in the craterlike rock formations here at the edge of the Shattered Plains. I ask Klade if they worry about highstorms, but he just laughs. \"Why worry? If the buildings blow down, we can build them again, can we not?\"\n\nOn the other side of the alcove, Jasnah's book rustled as she turned a page. Shallan set aside her own volume, then picked through the books on the desk. Her philosophy training done for the time being, she had returned to her study of King Gavilar's murder.\n\nShe slid a small volume out from the bottom of the stack: a record dictated by Stormwarden Matain, one of the scholars who had accompanied the king. Shallan flipped through the pages, searching fora specific passage. It was a description of the very first Parshendi hunting party they encountered.\n\nIt happened after we setup beside a deep river in a heavily wooded area. It was an ideal location fora long-term camp, as the dense cobwood trees would protect against highstorm winds, and the river's gorge eliminated the risk of flooding. His Majesty wisely took my advice, sending scouting parties both upriver and down.\n\nHighprince Dalinar's scouting party was the first to encounter the strange, untamed parshmen. When he returned to camp with his story, I-like many others-refused to believe his claims. Surely Brightlord Dalinar had simply run across the parshman servants of another expedition like our own.\n\nOnce they visited our camp the next day, their reality could no longer be denied. There were ten of them-parshmen to be sure, but bigger than the familiar ones. Some had skin marbled black and red, and others were marbled white and red, as is more common in Alethkar. They carried magnificent weapons, the bright steel etched with complex decorations, but wore simple clothing of woven narbin cloth." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Before long, His Majesty became fascinated by these strange parshmen, insisting that I begin a study of their language and society. I'll admit that my original intent was to expose them as a hoax of some kind. The more we learned, however, the more I came to realize how faulty my original assessment had been.\n\nShallan tapped the page, thinking. Then she pulled out a thick volume, titled King Gavilar Kholin, a Biography, published by Gavilar's widow, Navani, two years before. Shallan flipped through pages, scanning fora particular paragraph.\n\nMy husband was an excellent king-an inspiring leader, an unparalleled duelist, and a genius of battlefield tactics. But he didn't have a single scholarly finger on his left hand. He never showed an interest in the accounting of highstorms, was bored by talk of science, and ignored fabrials unless they had an obvious use in battle. He was a man built after the classical masculine ideal.\n\n\"Why was he so interested in them?\" Shallan said out loud.\n\n\"Hmmm?\" Jasnah asked.\n\n\"King Gavilar,\" Shallan said. \"Your mother insists in her biography that he wasn't a scholar.\"\n\n\"True.\"\n\n\"But he was interested in the Parshendi,\" Shallan said. \"Even before he could have known about their Shardblades. According to Matain's account, he wanted to know about their language, their society, and their music. Was that just embellishment, to make him sound more scholarly to future readers?\"\n\n\"No,\" Jasnah said, lowering her own book. \"The longer he remained in the Unclaimed Hills, the more fascinated by the Parshendi he became.\"\n\n\"So there's a discrepancy. Why would a man with no prior interest in scholarship suddenly become so obsessed?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yes,\" Jasnah said. \"I too have wondered about this. But sometimes, people change. When he returned, I was encouraged by his interest; we spent many evenings talking about his discoveries. It was one of the few times when I felt I really connected with my father.\"\n\nShallan bit her lip. \"Jasnah,\" she finally asked. \"Why did you assign me to research this event? You lived through this; you already know everything I'm\"discovering. '\"\n\n\"I feel afresh perspective maybe of value.\" Jasnah put down her book, looking over at Shallan. \"I don't intend for you to find specific answers. Instead, I hope that you will notice details I've missed. You are coming to see how my father's personality changed during those months, and that means you are digging deeply. Believe it or not, few others have caught the discrepancy you just did-though many do note his later changes, once he returned to Kholinar.\"\n\n\"Even so, I feel a little odd studying it. Perhaps I'm still influenced by my tutors\" idea that only the classics area proper realm of study for young ladies.\"\n\n\"The classics do have their place, and I will send you to classical works on occasion, as I did with your study of morality. But I intend such tangents to be adjuncts to your current projects. Those must be the focus, not long-lost historical conundrums.\"\n\nShallan nodded. \"But Jasnah, aren't you a historian? Aren't those long-lost historical conundrums the meat of your field?\"\n\n\"I'm a Veristitalian,\" Jasnah said. \"We search for answers in the past, reconstructing what truly happened. To many, writing a history is not about truth, but about presenting the most flattering picture of themselves and their motives. My sisters and I choose projects that we feel were misunderstood or misrepresented, and in studying them hope to better understand the present.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Why, then, are you spending so much time studying folktales and looking for evil spirits?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "No, Jasnah was searching for something real. Something so important that it drew her away from the Shattered Plains and the fight to avenge her father. She intended to do something with those folktales, and Shallan's research was part of it, somehow.\n\nThat excited her. It was the sort of thing she'd wanted since she'd been a child, looking through her father's few books, frustrated that he'd chased off yet another tutor. Here, with Jasnah, Shallan was part of something-and, knowing Jasnah, it was something big.\n\nAnd yet, she thought. Tozbek's ship arrives tomorrow morning. I'll be leaving.\n\nI need to start complaining. I need to convince Jasnah that this was all so much harder than I anticipated, so that when I leave she won't be surprised. I need to cry, breakdown, give up. I need to-\n\n\"What is Urithiru?\" Shallan found herself asking instead.\n\nTo her surprise, Jasnah answered without hesitation. \"Urithiru was said to be the center of the Silver Kingdoms, a city that held ten thrones, one for each king. It was the most majestic, most amazing, most important city in all the world.\"\n\n\"Really? Why hadn't I heard of it before?\"\n\n\"Because it was abandoned even before the Lost Radiants turned against mankind. Most scholars consider it just a myth. The ardents refuse to speak of it, due to its association with the Radiants, and therefore with the first major failure of Vorinism. Much of what we know about the city comes from fragments of lost works quoted by classical scholars. Many of those classical works have, themselves, survived only in pieces. Indeed, the single complete work we have from early years is The Way of Kings, and that is only because of the Vanrial's efforts.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Shallan nodded slowly. \"If there were ruins of a magnificent, ancient city hidden somewhere, Natanatan-unexplored, overgrown, wild-would be the natural place to find them.\"\n\n\"Urithiru is not in Natanatan,\" Jasnah said, smiling. \"But it is a good guess, Shallan. Return to your studies.\"\n\n\"The weapons,\" Shallan said.\n\nJasnah raised an eyebrow.\n\n\"The Parshendi. They carried beautiful weapons of fine, etched steel. Yet they used skin drums with crude handprints on the sides and lived in huts of stone and crem. Doesn't that strike you as incongruous?\"\n\n\"Yes. I would certainly describe that as an oddity.\"\n\n\"Then-\"\n\n\"I assure you, Shallan,\" Jasnah said. \"The city is not there.\"\n\n\"But you are interested in the Shattered Plains. You spoke of them with Brightlord Dalinar through the spanreed.\"\n\n\"I did.\"\n\n\"What were the Voidbringers?\" Now that Jasnah was actually answering, perhaps she'd say. \"What were they really?\"\n\nJasnah studied her with a curious expression. \"Nobody knows for sure. Most scholars consider them, like Urithiru, mere myths, while theologians accept them as counterparts of the Almighty-monsters that dwelled in the hearts of men, much as the Almighty once lived there.\"\n\n\"But-\"\n\n\"Return to your studies, child,\" Jasnah said, raising her book. \"Perhaps we will speak of this another time.\"\n\nThere was an air of finality about that. Shallan bit her lip, keeping herself from saying something rude just to draw Jasnah back into conversation. She doesn't trust me, she thought. Perhaps with good reason. You're leaving, Shallan told herself again. Tomorrow. You're sailing away from this." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But that meant she had only one day left. One more day in the grand Palanaeum. One more day with all of these books, all of this power and knowledge.\n\n\"I need a copy of Tifandor's biography of your father,\" Shallan said, poking through the books. \"I keep seeing it referenced.\"\n\n\"It's on one of the bottom floors,\" Jasnah said idly. \"I might be able to dig out the index number.\"\n\n\"No need,\" Shallan said, standing. \"I'll look it up. I need the practice.\"\n\n\"As you wish,\" Jasnah said.\n\nShallan smiled. She knew exactly where the book was-but the pretense of searching for it would give her time away from Jasnah. And during that time, she'd see what she could discover about the Voidbringers on her own.\n\nTwo hours later, Shallan sat at a cluttered desk at the back of one of the Palanaeum's lower-level rooms, her sphere lantern illuminating a stack of hastily gathered volumes, none of which had proven much use.\n\nIt seemed that everybody knew something about the Voidbringers. People in rural areas spoke of them as mysterious creatures that came out at night, stealing from the unlucky and punishing the foolish. Those Voidbringers seemed more mischievous than evil. But then there would be the odd story about a Voidbringer taking on the form of a wayward traveler who-after receiving kindness from a tallew farmer-would slaughter the entire family, drink their blood, then write voidish symbols across the walls in black ash.\n\nMost people in the cities, however, saw the Voidbringers as spirits who stalked at night, a kind of evil spren that invaded the hearts of men and made them do terrible things. When a good man grew angry, it was the work of a Voidbringer." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Scholars laughed at all these ideas. Actual historical accounts-the ones she could find quickly-were contradictory. Were the Voidbringers the denizens of Damnation? If so, wouldn't Damnation now be empty, as the Voidbringers had conquered the Tranquiline Halls and cast out mankind to Roshar?\n\nI should have known that I'd have trouble finding anything solid, Shallan thought, leaning back in her chair. Jasnah's been researching this for months, maybe years. What did I expect to find in a few hours?\n\nThe only thing the research had done was increase her confusion. What errant winds had brought Jasnah to this topic? It made no sense. Studying the Voidbringers was like trying to determine if deathspren were real or not. What was the point?\n\nShe shook her head, stacking her books. The ardents would reshelve them for her. She needed to fetch Tifandor's biography and return to their balcony. She rose and walked toward the room's exit, carrying her lantern in her freehand. She hadn't brought a parshman; she intended to carry back only the one book. As she reached the exit, she noticed another light approaching out on the balcony. Just before she arrived, someone stepped up to the doorway, holding aloft a garnet lantern.\n\n\"Kabsal?\" Shallan asked, surprised to see his youthful face, painted blue by the light.\n\n\"Shallan?\" he asked, looking up at the index inscription atop the entry-way. \"What are you doing here? Jasnah said you were looking for Tifandor.\"\n\n\"I... got turned around.\"\n\nHe raised an eyebrow at her.\n\n\"Bad lie?\" she asked.\n\n\"Terrible,\" he said. \"You're two floors up and about a thousand index numbers off. After I couldn't find you below, I asked the lift porters to take me where they brought you, and they took me here.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Jasnah's training can be exhausting,\" Shallan said. \"So I sometimes find a quiet corner to relax and compose myself. It's the only time I get to be alone.\"\n\nKabsal nodded thoughtfully.\n\n\"Better?\" she asked.\n\n\"Still problematic. You took a break, but for two hours? Besides, I remember you telling me that Jasnah's training wasn't so terrible.\"\n\n\"She'd believe me,\" Shallan said. \"She thinks she's far more demanding than she is. Or... well, she is demanding. I just don't mind as much as she thinks I do.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" he said. \"But what were you doing down here, then?\"\n\nShe bit her lip, causing him to laugh.\n\n\"What?\" she demanded, blushing.\n\n\"You just look so blasted innocent when you do that!\"\n\n\"I am innocent.\"\n\n\"Didn't you just lie tome twice in a row?\"\n\n\"Innocent, as in the opposite of sophisticated.\" She grimaced. \"Otherwise, they'd have been more convincing lies. Come. Walk with me while I fetch Tifandor. If we hurry, I won't have to lie to Jasnah.\"\n\n\"Fair enough,\" he said, joining her and strolling around the perimeter of the Palanaeum. The hollow inverted pyramid rose toward the ceiling far above, the four walls expanding outward at aslant. The topmost levels were brighter and easier to make out, tiny lights bobbing along railings in the hands of ardents or scholars.\n\n\"Fifty-seven levels,\" Shallan said. \"I can't even imagine how much work it must have been for you to create all this.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We didn't create it,\" Kabsal said. \"It was here. The main shaft, at least. The Kharbranthians cutout the rooms for the books.\"\n\n\"This formation is natural?\"\n\n\"As natural as cities like Kholinar. Or have you forgotten my demonstration?\"\n\n\"No. But why didn't you use this place as one of your examples?\"\n\n\"We haven't found the right sand pattern yet,\" he said. \"But we're sure the Almighty himself made this place, as he did the cities.\"\n\n\"What about the Dawnsingers?\" Shallan asked.\n\n\"What about them?\"\n\n\"Could they have created it?\"\n\nHe chuckled as they arrived at the lift. \"That isn't the kind of thing the Dawnsingers did. They were healers, kindly spren sent by the Almighty to care for humans once we were forced out of the Tranquiline Halls.\"\n\n\"Kind of like the opposite of the Voidbringers.\"\n\n\"I suppose you could say that.\n\n\"Take us down two levels,\" she told the parshman lift porters. They began lowering the platform, the pulleys squeaking and wood shaking beneath her feet.\n\n\"If you think to distract me with this conversation,\" Kabsal noted, folding his arms and leaning back against the railing, \"you won't be successful. I sat up therewith your disapproving mistress for well over an hour, and let me say that it was not a pleasant experience. I think she knows I still intend to try and convert her.\"\n\n\"Of course she does. She's Jasnah. She knows practically everything.\"\n\n\"Except whatever it is she came hereto study.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The Voidbringers,\" Shallan said. \"That's what she's studying.\"\n\nHe frowned. A few moments later, the lift came to a rest on the appropriate floor. \"The Voidbringers?\" he said, sounding curious. She'd have expected him to be scornful or amused. No, she thought. He's an ardent. He believes in them.\n\n\"What were they?\" she asked, walking out. Not far below, the massive cavern came to a point. There was a large infused diamond there, marking the nadir.\n\n\"We don't like to talk about it,\" Kabsal said as he joined her.\n\n\"Why not? You're an ardent. This is part of your religion.\"\n\n\"An unpopular part. People prefer to hear about the Ten Divine Attributes or the Ten Human Failings. We accommodate them because we, also, prefer that to the deep past.\"\n\n\"Because...\" she prodded.\n\n\"Because,\" he said with a sigh, \"of our failure. Shallan, the devotaries-at their core-are still classical Vorinism. That means the Hierocracy and the fall of the Lost Radiants are our shame.\" He held up his deep blue lantern. Shallan strolled at his side, curious, letting him just talk.\n\n\"We believe that the Voidbringers were real, Shallan. A scourge and a plague. A hundred times they came upon mankind. First casting us from the Tranquiline Halls, then trying to destroy us hereon Roshar. They weren't just spren that hid under rocks, then came out to steal someone's laundry. They were creatures of terrible destructive power, forged in Damnation, created from hate.\"\n\n\"By whom?\" Shallan asked." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What?\"\n\n\"Who made them? I mean, the Almighty wasn't likely to have'created something from hate. ' So what made them?\"\n\n\"Everything has its opposite, Shallan. The Almighty is a force of good. To balance his goodness, the cosmere needed the Voidbringers as his opposite.\"\n\n\"So the more good that the Almighty did, the more evil he created as a by-product? What's the point of doing any good at all if it just creates more evil?\"\n\n\"I see Jasnah has continued your training in philosophy.\"\n\n\"That's not philosophy,\" Shallan said. \"That's simple logic.\"\n\nHe sighed. \"I don't think you want to get into the deep theology of this. Suffice it to say that the Almighty's pure goodness created the Voidbringers, but men may choose good without creating evil because as mortals they have a dual nature. Thus the only way for good to increase in the cosmere is for men to create it-in that way, good may come to outweigh evil.\"\n\n\"All right,\" she said. \"But I don't buy the explanation about the Voidbringers.\"\n\n\"I thought you were a believer.\"\n\n\"I am. But just because I honor the Almighty doesn't mean I'm going to accept any explanation, Kabsal. It might be religion, but it still has to make sense.\"\n\n\"Didn't you once tell me that you didn't understand your own self?\"\n\n\"Well, yes.\"\n\n\"And yet you expect to be able to understand the exact workings of the Almighty?\"\n\nShe drew her lips into a line. \"All right, fine. But I still want to know more about the Voidbringers.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He shrugged as she guided him into an archive room, filled with shelves of books. \"I told you the basics, Shallan. The Voidbringers were an embodiment of evil. We fought them off ninety and nine times, led by the Heralds and their chosen knights, the ten orders we call the Knights Radiant. Finally, Aharietiam came, the Last Desolation. The Voidbringers were cast back into the Tranquiline Halls. The Heralds followed to force them out of heaven as well, and Roshar's Heraldic Epochs ended. Mankind entered the Era of Solitude. The modern era.\"\n\n\"But why is everything from before so fragmented?\"\n\n\"This was thousands and thousands of years ago, Shallan,\" Kabsal said. \"Before history, before men even knew how to forge steel. We had to be given Shardblades, otherwise we would have had to fight the Voidbringers with clubs.\"\n\n\"And yet we had the Silver Kingdoms and the Knights Radiant.\"\n\n\"Formed and led by the Heralds.\"\n\nShallan frowned, counting off rows of shelves. She stopped at the correct one, handed her lantern to Kabsal, then walked down the aisle and plucked the biography off the shelf. Kabsal followed her, holding up the lanterns.\n\n\"There's more to this,\" Shallan said. \"Otherwise, Jasnah wouldn't be digging so hard.\"\n\n\"I can tell you why she's doing it,\" he said.\n\nShallan glanced at him.\n\n\"Don't you see?\" he said. \"She's trying to prove that the Voidbringers weren't real. She wants to demonstrate that this was all a fabrication of the Radiants.\" He stepped forward and turned to face her, the lanternlight rebounding from the books to either side, making his face pale. \"She wants to prove once and for all that the devotaries-and Vorinism-area gigantic fraud. That's what this is all about.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Maybe,\" Shallan said thoughtfully. It did seem to fit. What better goal for an avowed heretic? Undermining foolish beliefs and disproving religion? It explained why Jasnah would study something as seemingly inconsequential as the Voidbringers. Find the right evidence in the historical records, and Jasnah might well be able to prove herself right.\n\n\"Haven't we been scourged enough?\" Kabsal said, eyes angry. \"The ardents are no threat to her. We're not a threat to anyone these days. We can't own property... Damnation, we're property ourselves. We dance to the whims of the citylords and warlords, afraid to tell them the truths of their sins for fear of retribution. We're whitespines without tusks or claws, expected to sit at our master's feet and offer praise. Yet this is real. It's all real, and they ignore us and-\"\n\nHe cutoff suddenly, glancing at her, lips tight, jaw clenched. She'd never seen such fervor, such fury from the pleasant ardent. She wouldn't have thought him capable of it.\n\n\"I'm sorry,\" he said, turning from her, leading the way back down the aisle.\n\n\"It's all right,\" she said, hurrying after him, suddenly feeling depressed. Shallan had expected to find something grander, something more mysterious, behind Jasnah's secretive research. Could it all really just be about proving Vorinism false?\n\nThey walked in silence out to the balcony. And there, she realized she had to tell him. \"Kabsal, I'm leaving.\"\n\nHe looked at her, surprised.\n\n\"I've had news from my family,\" she said. \"I can't speak of it, but I can stay no longer.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Something about your father?\"\n\n\"Why? Have you heard something?\"\n\n\"Only that he's been reclusive lately. More than normal.\"\n\nShe suppressed a flinch. News had gotten this far? \"I'm sorry to go so suddenly.\"\n\n\"You'll return?\"\n\n\"I don't know.\"\n\nHe looked into her eyes, searching. \"Do you know when you'll be leaving?\" he said in a suddenly cool voice.\n\n\"Tomorrow morning.\"\n\n\"Well then,\" he said. \"Will you at least dome the honor of sketching me? You've never given me a likeness, though you've done many of the other ardents.\"\n\nShe started, realizing that was true. Despite their time together, she'd never done a sketch of Kabsal. She raised her freehand to her mouth. \"I'm sorry!\"\n\nHe seemed taken aback. \"I didn't mean it bitterly, Shallan. It's really not that important-\"\n\n\"Yes it is,\" she said, grabbing his hand, towing him along the walkway. \"I left my drawing things up above. Come on.\" She hurried him to the lift, instructing the parshmen to carry them up. As the lift began to rise, Kabsal looked at her hand in his. She dropped it hastily.\n\n\"You're a very confusing woman,\" he said stiffly.\n\n\"I warned you.\" She held the retrieved book close to her breast. \"I believe you said you had me figured out.\"\n\n\"I rescind that statement.\" He looked at her. \"You're really leaving?\"\n\nShe nodded. \"I'm sorry. Kabsal... I'm not what you think I am.\"\n\n\"I think you're a beautiful, intelligent woman.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Well, you have the woman part right.\"\n\n\"Your father is sick, isn't he?\"\n\nShe didn't answer.\n\n\"I can see why you'd want to return to be with him,\" Kabsal said. \"But surely you won't abandon your wardship forever. You'll be back with Jasnah.\"\n\n\"And she won't be staying in Kharbranth forever. She's been moving from place to place almost constantly for the last two years.\"\n\nHe looked ahead, staring out the front of the lift as they rose. Soon, they had to transfer to another lift to carry them up the next group of floors. \"I shouldn't have been spending time with you,\" he finally said. \"The senior ardents think I'm too distracted. They never like it when one of us starts looking outside the ardentia.\"\n\n\"Your right to court is protected.\"\n\n\"We're property. A man's rights can be protected at the same time that he is discouraged from exercising them. I've avoided work, I've disobeyed my superiors... In courting you, I've also courted trouble.\"\n\n\"I didn't ask you for any of that.\"\n\n\"You didn't discourage me.\"\n\nShe had no response for that, other than to feel arising worry. A hint of panic, a desire to runaway and hide. During her years of near-solitude on her father's estate, she had never dreamed of a relationship like this one. Is that what this is? she thought, panic swelling. A relationship? Her intentions incoming to Kharbranth had seemed so straightforward. How had she gotten to the point where she risked breaking a man's heart?\n\nAnd, to her shame, she admitted to herself that she would miss the research more than Kabsal. Was she a horrible person for feeling that way? She was fond of him. He was pleasant. Interesting." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He looked at her, and there was longing in his eyes. He seemed... Stormfather, he seemed to really be in love with her. Shouldn't she befalling in love with him too? She didn't think she was. She was just confused.\n\nWhen they reached the top of the Palanaeum's system of lifts, she practically ran out into the Veil. Kabsal followed, but they needed another lift up to Jasnah's alcove, and soon she found herself trapped with him once more.\n\n\"I could come,\" Kabsal said softly. \"Return with you to Jah Keved.\"\n\nShallan's panic increased. She barely knew him. Yes, they had chatted frequently, but rarely about the important things. If he left the ardentia, he'd be demoted to tenth dahn, almost as low as a darkeyes. He'd be without money or house, in almost as bad a position as her family.\n\nHer family. What would her brothers say if she brought a virtual stranger back with her? Another man to become part of their problems, privy to their secrets?\n\n\"I can see from your expression that it's not an option,\" Kabsal said. \"It seems that I've misinterpreted some very important things.\"\n\n\"No, it's not that,\" Shallan said quickly. \"It's just... Oh, Kabsal. How can you expect to make sense of my actions when even I can't make sense of them?\" She touched his arm, turning him toward her. \"I have been dishonest with you. And with Jasnah. And, most infuriatingly, with myself. I'm sorry.\"\n\nHe shrugged, obviously trying to feign nonchalance. \"At least I'll get a sketch. Won't I?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "She nodded as the lift finally shuddered to a halt." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She walked down the dark hallway, Kabsal following with the lanterns. Jasnah looked up appraisingly as Shallan entered their alcove, but did not ask why she'd taken so long. Shallan found herself blushing as she gathered her drawing tools. Kabsal hesitated in the doorway. He'd left a basket of bread and jam on the desk. The top of it was still wrapped with a cloth; Jasnah hadn't touched it, though he always offered her some as a peace offering. Without jam, since Jasnah hated it.\n\n\"Where should I sit?\" Kabsal asked.\n\n\"Just stand there,\" Shallan said, sitting down, propping her sketchpad against her legs and holding it still with her covered safehand. She looked up at him, leaning with one hand against the doorframe. Head shaved, light grey robe draped around him, sleeves short, waist tied with a white sash. Eyes confused. She blinked, taking a Memory, then began to sketch.\n\nIt was one of the most awkward experiences of her life. She didn't tell Kabsal that he could move, and so he held the pose. He didn't speak. Perhaps he thought it would spoil the picture. Shallan found her handshaking as she sketched, though-thankfully-she managed to hold back tears.\n\nTears, she thought, doing the final lines of the wall around Kabsal. Why should I cry? I'm not the one who just got rejected. Can't my emotions make sense once in awhile?\n\n\"Here,\" she said, pulling the page free and holding it up. \"It will smudge unless you spray it with lacquer.\"\n\nKabsal hesitated, then walked over, taking the picture in reverent fingers. \"It's wonderful,\" he whispered. He looked up, then hurried to his lantern, opening it and pulling out the garnet broam inside. \"Here,\" he said, proffering it. \"Payment.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Work to move the story forward.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, knights radiant\nAuthor: Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: The Way of Kings\nChapter: 75" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Was that a woman? Dalinar thought with amazement. It couldn't have been. Could it?\n\nBehind him, his soldiers let out cheers as a large number of Parshendi scattered away to regroup. Dalinar lowered his Shardblade, the metal gleaming, gloryspren winking into the air around him. There was another reason for him to stay out ahead of his men. A Shardbearer wasn't just a force of destruction; he was a force of morale and inspiration. The men fought more vigorously as they saw their brightlord felling foe after foe. Shardbearers changed battles.\n\nSince the Parshendi were broken for the moment, Dalinar climbed free of Gallant and dropped to the rocks. Corpses lay unbloodied all around him, though once he approached the place where his men had been fighting, orange-red bloodstained the rocks. Cremlings scuttled about on the ground, lapping up the liquid, and painspren wriggled between them. Wounded Parshendi lay staring up into the air, faces masks of pain, singing a quiet, haunting song to themselves. Often just as whispers. They never yelled as they died.\n\nDalinar felt the Thrill retreat as he joined his honor guard. \"They're getting too close to Gallant,\" Dalinar said to Teleb, handing over the reins. The massive Ryshadium's coat was flecked with frothy sweat. \"I don't want to risk him. Have a man run him to the back lines.\"\n\nTeleb nodded, waving a soldier to obey the order. Dalinar hefted his Shardblade, scanning the battlefield. The Parshendi force was regrouping. As always, the two-person teams were the focus of their strategy. Each pair would have different weapons, and often one was clean-shaven while the other had a beard woven with gemstones. His scholars had suggested this was some kind of primitive apprenticeship." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Dalinar inspected the clean-shaven ones for signs of any stubble." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There was none, and more than a few had a faintly feminine shape to their faces. Could the ones without beards all be women? They didn't appear to have much in the way of breasts, and their builds were like those of men, but the strange Parshendi armor could be masking things. The beardless ones did seem smaller by a few fingers, and the shapes of the faces... studying them, it seemed possible. Could the pairs be husbands and wives fighting together? That struck him as strangely fascinating. Was it possible that, despite six years of war, nobody had taken the time to investigate the genders of those they fought?\n\nYes. The contested plateaus were so far out, nobody ever brought back Parshendi bodies; they just set men to pulling the gemstones out of their beards or gathering their weapons. Since Gavilar's death, very little effort had been given to studying the Parshendi. Everyone just wanted them dead, and if there was one thing the Alethi were good at, it was killing.\n\nAnd you're supposed to be killing them now, Dalinar told himself, not analyzing their culture. But he did decide to have his soldiers collect a few bodies for the scholars.\n\nHe charged toward another section of the battlefield, Shardblade before him in two hands, making certain not to outpace his soldiers. To the south, he could see Adolin's banner flying as he led his division against the Parshendi there. The lad had been uncharacteristically reserved lately. Being wrong about Sadeas seemed to have made him more contemplative.\n\nOn the west side, Sadeas's own banner flew proudly, Sadeas's forces keeping the Parshendi from the chrysalis. He'd arrived first, as before, engaging the Parshendi so Dalinar's companies could arrive. Dalinar had considered cutting out the gemheart so the Alethi could retreat, but why end the battle that quickly? He and Sadeas both felt the real point of their alliance was to crush as many Parshendi as possible." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The more they killed, the faster this war would be through. And so far, Dalinar's plan was working. The two armies complemented one another. Dalinar's assaults had been too slow, and he'd allowed the Parshendi to position themselves too well. Sadeas was fast-more so now that he could leave men behind and concentrate fully on speed-and he was frighteningly effective at getting men onto the plateaus to fight, but his men weren't trained as well as Dalinar's. So if Sadeas could arrive first, then holdout long enough for Dalinar to get his men across, the superior training-and superior Shards-of his forces worked like a hammer against the Parshendi, smashing them against Sadeas's anvil.\n\nIt was still by no means easy. The Parshendi fought like chasmfiends.\n\nDalinar crashed against them, swinging outwith his blade, slaying Parshendi on all sides. He couldn't help but feel a grudging respect for the Parshendi. Few men dared assault a Shardbearer directly-at least not without the entire weight of their army forcing them forward, almost against their will.\n\nThese Parshendi attacked with bravery. Dalinar spun, laying about him, the Thrill surging within. With an ordinary sword, a fighter focused on controlling his blows, striking and expecting recoil. You wanted quick, rapid strikes with small arcs. A Shardblade was different. The Blade was enormous, yet remarkably light. There was never recoil; landing a blow felt nearly like passing the blade through the air itself. The trick was to control momentum and keep the blade moving.\n\nFour Parshendi threw themselves at him; they seemed to know that working into close quarters was one of the best ways to drop him. If they got too close, the length of his Blade's hilt and the nature of his armor would make fighting more difficult for him. Dalinar spun in along, waist-high attack, and noted the deaths of Parshendi by the slight tug on the Blade as it passed through their chests. He got all four of them, and felt a surge of satisfaction." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was followed immediately by nausea.\n\nDamnation! he thought. Not again! He turned toward another group of Parshendi as the eyes of the dead burned out and smoked.\n\nHe threw himself into another attack-raising Blade in a twisting swing over his head, then bringing it down parallel to the ground. Six Parshendi died. He felt a spike of regret along with displeasure at the Thrill. Surely these Parshendi-these soldiers-deserved respect, not glee, as they were slaughtered.\n\nHe remembered the times when the Thrill had been the strongest. Subduing the highprinces with Gavilar during their youths, forcing back the Vedens, fighting the Herdazians and destroying the Akak Reshi. Once, the thirst for battle had nearly led him to attack Gavilar himself. Dalinar could remember the jealousy on that day some ten years ago, when the itch to attack Gavilar-the only worthy opponent he could see, the man who had won Navani's hand-had nearly consumed him.\n\nHis honor guard cheered as his foes dropped. He felt hollow, but he seized the Thrill and got a tight grip on his feelings and emotions. He let the Thrill pulse through him. Blessedly, the sickness went away, which was good, for another group of Parshendi charged him from the side. He executed a Windstance turn, shifting his feet, lowering his shoulder, and throwing his weight behind his Blade as he swung.\n\nHe got three in the sweep, but the fourth and final Parshendi shoved past his wounded comrades, getting inside Dalinar's reach, swinging his hammer. His eyes were wide with anger and determination, though he did not yell or bellow. He just continued his song.\n\nHis blow cracked into Dalinar's helm. It pushed his head to the side but the Plate absorbed most of the hit, a few tiny weblike lines cracking along its length. Dalinar could see them glowing faintly, releasing Stormlight at the edges of his vision." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Parshendi was in too close. Dalinar dropped his Blade. The weapon puffed away to mist as Dalinar raised an armored arm and blocked the next hammer blow. Then he swung with his other arm, smashing his fist into the Parshendi's shoulder. The blow tossed the man to the ground. The Parshendi's song cutoff. Gritting his teeth, Dalinar stepped up and kicked the man in the chest, throwing the body a good twenty feet through the air. He'd learned to be wary of Parshendi who weren't fully incapacitated.\n\nDalinar lowered his hands and began to resummon his Shardblade. He felt strong again, passion for battle returning to him. I shouldn't feel bad for killing the Parshendi, he thought. This is right.\n\nHe paused, noticing something. What was that on the next plateau over? It looked like...\n\nLike a second Parshendi army.\n\nSeveral groups of his scouts were dashing toward the main battle lines, but Dalinar could guess the news they brought. \"Stormfather!\" he cursed, pointing with his Shardblade. \"Pass the warning! A second army approaches!\"\n\nSeveral men scattered in accordance to his command. We should have expected this, Dalinar thought. We started bringing two armies to a plateau, so they have done the same.\n\nBut that implied that they had limited themselves before. Did they do it because they realized that the battlefields left little room for maneuvering? Or was it for speed? But that didn't make sense-the Alethi had to worry about bridges as choke points, slowing them more and more if they brought more troops. But the Parshendi could jump the chasms. So why commit fewer troops than their all?\n\nCurse it all, he thought with frustration. We know so little about them!" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He shoved his Shardblade into the rock beside him, placing it intentionally so that it didn't vanish. He began calling out orders. His honor guard formed around him, ushering in scouts and sending out runners. Fora short time, he became a tactical general rather than an advance warrior.\n\nIt took time to change their battlefield strategy. An army was like a massive chull at times, lumbering along, slow to react. Before his orders could be executed, the new Parshendi force began crossing over onto the north side. That was where Sadeas was fighting. Dalinar couldn't get a good view, and scout reports were taking too long.\n\nHe glanced to the side; there was a tall rock formation nearby. It had uneven sides, making it look a little like a pile of boards stacked one atop another. He grabbed his Shardblade in the middle of a report and ran across the stony ground, smashing a few Rockbuds beneath his plated boots. The Cobalt Guard and the messengers followed quickly.\n\nAt the rock formation, Dalinar tossed his Blade aside, letting it dissolve to smoke. He threw himself up and grabbed the rock, scaling the formation. Seconds later, he heaved himself up onto its flattop.\n\nThe battlefield stretched out below him. The main Parshendi army was amass of red and black at the center of the plateau, now pressed on two sides by the Alethi. Sadeas' bridge crews waited on a western plateau, ignored, while the new force of Parshendi crossed from the north onto the battlefield.\n\nStormfather, but they can jump, Dalinar thought, watching the Parshendi span the gap in powerful leaps. Six years of fighting had shown Dalinar that human soldiers-particularly if lightly armored-could outrun Parshendi troops if they had to go more than a few dozen yards. But those thick, powerful Parshendi legs could send them far when they leaped." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Not a single Parshendi lost his footing as they crossed the chasm. They approached the chasm at a trot, then dashed with a burst of speed for about ten feet, launching themselves forward. The new force pushed south, directly into Sadeas's army. Raising a hand against the bright white sunlight, Dalinar found he could make out Sadeas's personal banner.\n\nIt was directly in the path of the oncoming Parshendi force; he tended to remain at the back of his armies, in a secure position. Now, that position suddenly became the front lines, and Sadeas's other troops were too slow to disengage and react. He didn't have any support.\n\nSadeas! Dalinar thought, stepping right up to the lip of the stone, his cape streaming behind him in the breeze. I need to send him my reserve spearmen-\n\nBut no, they'd be too slow.\n\nThe spearmen couldn't get to him. But someone mounted might be able to.\n\n\"Gallant!\" Dalinar bellowed, throwing himself off the rock formation. He fell to the rocks below, Plate absorbing the shock as he hit, cracking the stone. Stormlight puffed up around him, rising from his armor, and the greaves cracked slightly.\n\nGallant pulled away from his minders, galloping across the stones at Dalinar's call. As the horse approached, Dalinar grabbed the saddle-holds and heaved himself up and into place. \"Follow if you can,\" he bellowed at his honor guard, \"and send a runner to tell my son he now commands our army!\"\n\nDalinar reared Gallant and galloped alongside the perimeter of the battlefield. His guard called for their horses, but they'd have difficulty keeping up with a Ryshadium." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "So be it.\n\nFighting soldiers became a blur to Dalinar's right. He leaned low in the saddle, wind hissing as it blew over his Shardplate. He held a handout and summoned Oathbringer. It dropped into his hand, steaming and frosted, as he turned Gallant around the western tip of the battlefield. By design, the original Parshendi army lay between his force and Sadeas's. He didn't have time to round them. So, taking a deep breath, Dalinar struck out through the middle of it. Their ranks were spread out because of how they fought.\n\nGallant galloped through them, and Parshendi threw themselves out of the massive stallion's way, cursing in their melodic language. Hooves beat a thunder upon the rocks; Dalinar urged Gallant on with his knees. They had to keep momentum. Some Parshendi fighting on the front against Sadeas's force turned and ran at him. They saw the opportunity. If Dalinar fell, he'd land alone, surrounded by thousands of enemies.\n\nDalinar's heart thumped as he held his Blade out, trying to swipe at Parshendi who came too close. Within minutes, he approached the northwestern Parshendi line. There, his enemies formed up, raising spears and setting them against the ground.\n\nBlast! Dalinar thought. Parshendi had never set spears like that against heavy cavalry before. They were starting to learn.\n\nDalinar charged the formation, then wheeled Gallant at the last moment, turning parallel to the Parshendi spear wall. He swung his Shardblade out to the side, shearing the tips from their weapons and hitting a few arms. A patch of Parshendi just ahead wavered, and Dalinar took a deep breath, urging Gallant directly into them, shearing off a few spear tips. Another one bounced off his shoulder armor, and Gallant took along gash on the left flank." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Their momentum carried them forward, trampling over the Parshendi, and with a whinny, Gallant burst free of the Parshendi line just to the side of where Sadeas's main force was engaging the enemy.\n\nDalinar's heart pumped. He passed Sadeas's force in a blur, galloping toward the back lines, where a churning, disorganized chaos of men tried to react to the new Parshendi force. Men screamed and died, a mess of forest green Alethi and Parshendi in black and red.\n\nThere! Dalinar saw Sadeas's banner flap fora moment before falling. He threw himself from Gallant's saddle and hit the stones. The horse turned away, understanding. His wound was bad, and Dalinar would not risk him any further.\n\nIt was time for the slaughter to begin again.\n\nHe tore into the Parshendi force from the side, and some turned, looks of surprise in their usually stoic black eyes. At times the Parshendi seemed alien, but their emotions were so human. The Thrill rose and Dalinar did not force it down. He needed it too much. Anally was in danger.\n\nIt was time to let the Blackthorn loose.\n\nDalinar punched through the Parshendi ranks. He felled Parshendi like a man sweeping crumbs from the table after a meal. There was no controlled precision here, no careful engagement of a few squads with his honor guard at the back. This was a full-out attack, with all the power and deadly force of a life-long killer enhanced by Shards. He was like a tempest, slashing through legs, torsos, arms, necks, killing, killing, killing. He was a maelstrom of death and steel. Weapons bounced off his armor, leaving tiny cracks. He killed dozens, always moving, forcing his way toward where Sadeas's banner had fallen." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Eyes burned, swords flashed in the sky, and Parshendi sang. The close press of their own troops-bunching up as they hit Sadeas's line-inhibited them. But not Dalinar. He didn't have to worry about striking friends, nor did he have to worry about his weapon getting caught in flesh or stuck in armor. And if corpses got in his way, he sheared through them-dead flesh would cut like steel and wood.\n\nSoon, Parshendi blood splashed in the air as he killed, then hacked, then shoved his way through the press. Blade from shoulder to side, back and forth, occasionally turning to sweep at those trying to kill him from behind.\n\nHe stumbled on a swath of green cloth. Sadeas's banner. Dalinar spun, searching. Behind him, he'd left a line of corpses that was quickly yet carefully being stepped past by more Parshendi focused on him. Except just to his left. None of the Parshendi there turned toward him.\n\nSadeas! Dalinar thought, leaping forward, cutting down Parshendi from behind. That revealed a group of them bunched in a circle, beating on something below them. Something leaking Stormlight.\n\nJust to the side lay a large Shardbearer's hammer, fallen where Sadeas had apparently dropped it. Dalinar leaped forward, dropping his Blade and grabbing the hammer. He roared as he slammed it into the group, tossing a dozen Parshendi away from him, then turned and swung again on the other side. Bodies sprayed into the air, hurled backward.\n\nThe hammer worked better in such close quarters; the Blade would simply have killed the men, dropping their corpses to the ground, leaving him still pressed and pinned. The hammer, however, flung the bodies away. He leaped into the middle of the area he'd just cleared, positioning himself with one foot on either side of the fallen Sadeas. He began the process of summoning his Blade again and laid about him with the hammer, scattering his enemies." }, { "from": "human", "value": "At the ninth beat of his heart, he threw the hammer into the face of a Parshendi, then let Oathbringer reform in his hands." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He fell immediately into Windstance, glancing downward. Sadeas's armor leaked Stormlight from a dozen different breaks and rifts. The breastplate had been shattered completely; broken, jagged bits of metal jutted out, revealing the uniform underneath. Wisps of radiant smoke trailed from the holes.\n\nThere was no time to check if he still lived. The Parshendi now saw not one, but two Shardbearers within their grasp, and they threw themselves at Dalinar. Warrior after warrior fellas Dalinar slaughtered them in sweeps, protecting the space just around him.\n\nHe couldn't stop them all. His armor took hits, mostly on the arms and back. The armor cracked, like a crystal under too much stress.\n\nHe roared, striking down four Parshendi as two more hit him from behind, making his armor vibrate. He spun and killed one, the other barely dancing out of range. Dalinar began to pant, and when he moved quickly, he left trails of blue Stormlight in the air. He felt like a bloodied prey beast trying to fend off a thousand different snapping predators at once.\n\nBut he was no chull, whose only protection was to hide. He killed, and the Thrill rose to a crescendo within him. He sensed real danger, a chance of falling, and that made the Thrill surge. He nearly choked on it, the joy, the pleasure, the desire. The danger. More and more blows got through; more and more Parshendi were able to duck or dodge out of the way of his Blade.\n\nHe felt a breeze through the back of his breastplate. Cooling, terrible, frightening. The cracks were widening. If the breastplate burst...\n\nHe screamed, slamming his blade down through a Parshendi, burning out his eyes, dropping the man without a mark on his skin. Dalinar brought his Blade up, spinning, cutting through the legs of another foe. His insides were a tempest of emotions, and his brow beneath the helm streamed with sweat. What would happen to the Alethi army if both he and Sadeas fell here? Two highprinces dead in the same battle, two sets of Plate and one Blade lost?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "It couldn't happen." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He wouldn't fall here. He didn't yet know if he was mad or not. He couldn't die until he knew!\n\nSuddenly, a wave of Parshendi died that he hadn't attacked. A figure in brilliant blue Shardplate burst through them. Adolin held his massive Shardblade in a single hand, the metal gleaming.\n\nAdolin swung again, and the Cobalt Guard rushed forward, pouring into the gap Adolin created. The Parshendi song changed tempo, becoming frantic, and they fell back as more and more troops punched through, some in green, others in blue.\n\nDalinar knelt down, exhausted, letting his Blade vanish. His guard surrounded him, and Adolin's army washed over them all, overrunning the Parshendi, forcing them back. Ina few minutes, the area was secure.\n\nThe danger was past.\n\n\"Father,\" Adolin said, kneeling beside him, pulling his helm off. The youth's blond and black hair was disheveled and sweat-slick. \"Storms! You gave me a fright! Are you well?\"\n\nDalinar pulled his own helm free, sweet cooling air washing across his damp face. He took a deep breath, then nodded. \"Your timing is... quite good, son.\"\n\nAdolin helped Dalinar back to his feet. \"I had to punch through the entire Parshendi army. No disrespect, Father, but what in the storms made you pull a stunt like that?\"\n\n\"The knowledge that you could handle the army if I fell,\" Dalinar said, clapping his son on the arm, their Plate clinking.\n\nAdolin caught sight of the back of Dalinar's Shardplate, and his eyes opened wide.\n\n\"Bad?\" Dalinar asked." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Looks like it's held together with spit and twine,\" Adolin said. \"You're leaking Light like a wineskin used for archery practice.\"\n\nDalinar nodded, sighing. Already his Plate was feeling sluggish. He'd probably have to remove it before they returned to the camp, lest it freeze on him.\n\nTo the side, several soldiers were pulling Sadeas free of his Plate. It was so far gone that the Light had stopped save fora few tiny wisps. It could be fixed, but it would be expensive-regenerating Shardplate generally shattered the gemstones it drew Light from.\n\nThe soldiers pulled Sadeas's helm off, and Dalinar was relieved to see his former friend blinking, looking disoriented but largely uninjured. He had a cut on his thigh where one of the Parshendi had gotten him with a sword, and a few scrapes on his chest.\n\nSadeas looked up at Dalinar and Adolin. Dalinar stiffened, expecting recrimination-this had only happened because Dalinar had insisted on fighting with two armies on the same plateau. That had goaded the Parshendi into bringing another army. Dalinar should have set proper scouts to watch for that.\n\nSadeas, however, smiled a wide grin. \"Stormfather, but that was close! How goes the battle?\"\n\n\"The Parshendi are routed,\" Adolin said. \"The last force resisting was the one around you. Our men are cutting the gemheart free at this moment. The day is ours.\"\n\n\"We win again!\" Sadeas said triumphantly. \"Dalinar, once in awhile, it appears that senile old brain of yours can come up with a good idea or two!\"\n\n\"We're the same age, Sadeas.\" Dalinar noted as messengers approached, bearing reports from the rest of the battlefield." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Spread the word,\" Sadeas proclaimed. \"Tonight, all my soldiers will feast as if they were lighteyes!\" He smiled as his soldiers helped him to his feet, and Adolin moved over to take the scout reports. Sadeas waved away the help insisting he could stand despite his wound, and began calling for his officers.\n\nDalinar turned to seek out Gallant and make sure the horse's wound was cared for. Ashe did, however, Sadeas caught his arm.\n\n\"I should be dead,\" Sadeas said softly.\n\n\"Perhaps.\"\n\n\"I didn't see much. But I thought I saw you alone. Where was your honor guard?\"\n\n\"I had to leave it behind,\" Dalinar said. \"It was the only way to get to you in time.\"\n\nSadeas frowned. \"That was a terrible risk, Dalinar. Why?\"\n\n\"You do not abandon your allies on the battlefield. Not unless there's no recourse. It is one of the Codes.\"\n\nSadeas shook his head. \"That honor of yours is going to get you killed, Dalinar.\" He seemed bemused. \"Not that I feel like offering a complaint about it this day!\"\n\n\"If I should die,\" Dalinar said, \"then I would do so having lived my life right. It is not the destination that matters, but how one arrives there.\"\n\n\"The Codes?\"\n\n\"No. The Way of Kings.\"\n\n\"That storming book.\"\n\n\"That storming book saved your life today, Sadeas,\" Dalinar said. \"I think I'm starting to understand what Gavilar saw in it.\"\n\nSadeas scowled at that, though he glanced at his armor, lying in pieces nearby. He shook his head. \"Perhaps I shall let you tell me what you mean. I'd like to understand you again, old friend. I'm beginning to wonder if I ever really did.\" He let goof Dalinar's arm. \"Someone bring me my storming horse! Where are my officers?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dalinar left, and quickly found several members of his guard seeing to Gallant. Ashe joined them, he was struck by the sheer number of corpses on the ground. They ran in a line where he had punched through the Parshendi ranks to get to Sadeas, a trail of death.\n\nHe looked back to where he'd made his stand. Dozens dead. Perhaps hundreds.\n\nBlood of my fathers, Dalinar thought. Did I do that? He hadn't killed in such numbers since the early days of helping Gavilar unite Alethkar. And he hadn't grown sick at the sight of death since his youth.\n\nYet now he found himself revolted, barely able to keep his stomach under control. He would not retch on the battlefield. His men should not see that.\n\nHe stumbled away, one hand to his head, the other carrying his helm. He should be exulting. But he couldn't. He just... couldn't.\n\nYou will need luck trying to understand me, Sadeas, he thought. Because I'm having Damnation's own trouble trying to do so myself." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"And all the world was shattered!\" Maps yelled, back arching, eyes wide, flecks of red spittle on his cheeks. \"The rocks trembled with their steps, and the stones reached toward the heavens. We die! We die!\"\n\nHe spasmed one last time, and the light faded from his eyes. Kaladin sat back, crimson blood slick on his hands, the dagger he'd been using as a surgical knife slipping from his fingers and clicking softly against the stone. The affable man lay dead on the stones of a plateau, arrow wound in his left breast open to the air, splitting the birthmark he'd claimed looked like Alethkar.\n\nIt's taking them, Kaladin thought. One by one. Open them up, bleed them out. We're nothing more than pouches to carry blood. Then we die, rain it down on the stones like a highstorm's floods.\n\nUntil only I remain. I always remain.\n\nA layer of skin, a layer of fat, a layer of muscle, a layer of bone. That was what men were.\n\nThe battle raged across the chasm. It might as well have been another kingdom, for all the attention anyone gave the bridgemen. Die die die, then get out of our way.\n\nThe members of Bridge Four stood in a solemn ring around Kaladin. \"What was that he said at the end?\" Skar asked. \"The rocks trembled?\"\n\n\"It was nothing,\" said thick-armed Yake. \"Just dying delirium. It happens to men, sometimes.\"\n\n\"More often lately, it seems,\" Teft said. He held his hand to his arm, where he'd hastily wrapped a bandage around an arrow wound. He wouldn't be carrying abridge anytime soon. Maps's death and Arik's death left them with only twenty-six members now. It was barely enough to carry abridge. The greater heaviness was very noticeable, and they had difficulty keeping up with the other bridge crews. A few more losses, and they'd be in serious trouble." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I should have been faster, Kaladin thought, looking down at Maps splayed open, his insides exposed for the sun to dry. The arrowhead had pierced his lung and lodged in his spine. Could Lirin have saved him? If Kaladin had studied in Kharbranth as his father had wished, would he have learned enough-known enough-to prevent deaths like this?\n\nThis happens sometimes, son....\n\nKaladin raised shaking bloody hands to his face, gripping his head, as memory consumed him. A young girl, a cracked head, a broken leg, an angry father.\n\nDespair, hate, loss, frustration, horror. How could any man live this way? To be a surgeon, to live knowing that you would be too weak to save some? When other men failed, afield of crops got worms in them. When a surgeon failed, someone died.\n\nYou have to learn when to care....\n\nAs if he could choose. Banish it, like snuffing a lantern. Kaladin bowed beneath the weight. I should have saved him, I should have saved him, I should have saved him.\n\nMaps, Dunny, Amark, Goshel, Dallet, Nalma. Tien.\n\n\"Kaladin.\" Syl's voice. \"Be strong.\"\n\n\"If I were strong,\" he hissed, \"they would live.\"\n\n\"The other bridgemen still need you. You promised them, Kaladin. You gave your oath.\"\n\nKaladin looked up. The bridgemen seemed anxious and worried. There were only eight of them; Kaladin had sent the others to look for fallen bridgemen from other crews. They'd found three initially, minor wounds that Skar could care for. No runners had come for him. Either the bridge crews had no other wounded, or those wounded were beyond help." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Maybe he should have gone to look, just in case." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But-numb-he could not face yet another dying man he could not save. He stumbled to his feet and walked away from the corpse. He stepped up to the chasm and forced himself to fall into the old stance Tukks had taught him.\n\nFeet apart, hands behind his back, clasping forearms. Straight-backed, staring forward. The familiarity brought him strength.\n\nYou were wrong, Father, he thought. You said I'd learn to deal with the deaths. And yet here I am. Years later. Same problem.\n\nThe bridgemen fell in around him. Lopen approached with a waterskin. Kaladin hesitated, then accepted the skin, washing off his face and hands. The warm water splashed across his skin, then brought welcome coolness as it evaporated. He let out a deep breath, nodding thanks to the short Herdazian man.\n\nLopen raised an eyebrow, then gestured to the pouch tied to his waist. He had recovered the newest pouch of spheres they'd stuck to the bridge with an arrow. This was the fourth time they'd done that, and had recovered them each without incident.\n\n\"Did you have any trouble?\" Kaladin asked.\n\n\"No, gancho,\" Lopen said, smiling widely. \"Easy as tripping a Horneater.\"\n\n\"I heard that,\" Rock said gruffly, standing in parade rest a short distance away.\n\n\"And the rope?\" Kaladin asked.\n\n\"I dropped the whole coil right over the side,\" Lopen said. \"But I didn't tie the end to anything. Just like you said.\"\n\n\"Good,\" Kaladin said. A rope dangling from abridge would have just been too obvious. If Hashal or Gaz caught scent of what Kaladin was planning..." }, { "from": "human", "value": "And where is Gaz?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kaladin thought. Why didn't he come on the bridge run?\n\nLopen gave Kaladin the pouch of spheres, as if eager to be rid of the responsibility. Kaladin accepted it, stuffing it into his trouser pocket.\n\nLopen retreated, and Kaladin fell back into parade rest. The plateau on the other side of the chasm was long and thin, with steep slopes on the sides. Just as in the last few battles, Dalinar Kholin helped Sadeas's force. He always arrived late. Perhaps he blamed his slow, chull-pulled bridges. Very convenient. His men often had the luxury of crossing without archery fire.\n\nSadeas and Dalinar won more battles this way. Not that it mattered to the bridgemen.\n\nMany people were dying on the other side of the chasm, but Kaladin didn't feel a thing for them. No itch to heal them, no desire to help. Kaladin could thank Hav for that, for training him to think in terms of'us\" and'them.\" Ina way, Kaladin had learned what his father had talked about. In the wrong way, but it was something. Protect the'us,\" destroy the'them.\" A soldier had to think like that. So Kaladin hated the Parshendi. They were the enemy. If he hadn't learned to divide his mind like that, war would have destroyed him.\n\nPerhaps it had done so anyway.\n\nAshe watched the battle, he focused on one thing in particular to distract himself. How did the Parshendi treat their dead? Their actions seemed irregular. The Parshendi soldiers rarely disturbed their dead after they fell; they'd take roundabout paths of attack to avoid dead bodies. And when the Alethi marched over the Parshendi dead, they formed points of terrible conflict." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Did the Alethi notice?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Probably not. But he could see that the Parshendi revered their dead-revered them to the extent that they would endanger the living to preserve the corpses of the fallen. Kaladin could use that. He would use that. Somehow.\n\nThe Alethi eventually won the battle. Before long, Kaladin and his team were slogging back across the plateau, carrying their bridge, three wounded lashed to the top. They had found only those three, and apart of Kaladin felt sick inside as he realized another part of him was glad. He had already rescued some fifteen men from other bridge crews, and it was straining their resources-even with the money from the pouches-to feed them. Their barrack was crowded with the wounded.\n\nBridge Four reached a chasm, and Kaladin moved to lower his burden. The process was rote to him now. Lower the bridge, quickly untie the wounded, push the bridge across the chasm. Kaladin checked on the three wounded. Every man he rescued this way seemed bemused at what he'd done, even though he'd been doing it for weeks now. Satisfied that they were all right, he moved to stand at parade rest while the soldiers crossed.\n\nBridge Four fell in around him. Increasingly, they earned scowls from the soldiers-both darkeyed and lighteyed-who crossed. \"Why do they do that?\" Moash said quietly as a passing soldier tossed an overripe pile-vine fruit at the bridgemen. Moash wiped the stringy, red fruit from his face, then sighed and fell back into his stance. Kaladin had never asked them to join him, but they did it each time.\n\n\"When I fought in Amaram's army,\" Kaladin said, \"I dreamed about joining the troops at the Shattered Plains. Everyone knew that the soldiers left in Alethkar were the dregs. We imagined the real soldiers, off fighting in the glorious war to bring retribution to those who had killed our king. Those soldiers would treat their fellows with fairness. Their discipline would be firm. Each would bean expert with the spear, and he would not break rank on the battlefield.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "To the side, Teft snorted quietly.\n\nKaladin turned to Moash. \"Why do they treat us so, Moash? Because they know they should be better than they are. Because they see discipline in bridgemen, and it embarrasses them. Rather than bettering themselves, they take the easier road of jeering at us.\"\n\n\"Dalinar Kholin's soldiers don't act like that,\" Skar said from just behind Kaladin. \"His men march in straight ranks. There is order in their camp. If they're on duty, they don't leave their coats unbuttoned or lounge about.\"\n\nWill I never stop hearing about Dalinar storming Kholin? Kaladin thought.\n\nMen had spoken that way of Amaram. How easy it was to ignore a blackened heart if you dressed it in a pressed uniform and a reputation for honesty.\n\nSeveral hours later, the sweaty and exhausted group of bridgemen tramped up the incline to the lumberyard. They dumped their bridge in its resting place. It was getting late; Kaladin would have to purchase food immediately if they were going to have supplies for the evening stew. He wiped his hands on his towel as the members of Bridge Four lined up.\n\n\"You're dismissed for evening activities,\" he said. \"We have chasm duty early tomorrow. Morning bridge practice will have to be moved to late afternoon.\"\n\nThe bridgemen nodded, then Moash raised a hand. As one, the bridgemen raised their arms and crossed them, wrists together, hands in fists. It had the look of a practiced effort. After that, they trotted away.\n\nKaladin raised an eyebrow, tucking his towel into his belt. Teft hung back, smiling.\n\n\"What was that?\" Kaladin asked." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"The men wanted a salute,\" Teft said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We can't use a regular military salute-not with the spearmen already thinking we're too bigheaded. So I taught them my old squad salute.\"\n\n\"When?\"\n\n\"This morning. While you were getting our schedule from Hashal.\"\n\nKaladin smiled. Odd, how he could still do that. Nearby, the other nineteen bridge crews on today's run dropped off their bridges, one by one. Had Bridge Four once looked like them, with those ragged beards and haunted expressions? None of them spoke to one another. Some few glanced at Kaladin as they passed, but they looked down as soon as they saw he was watching. They'd stopped treating Bridge Four with the contempt they'd once shown. Curiously, they now seemed to regard Kaladin's crew as they did everyone else in camp-as people above them. They hastened to avoid his notice.\n\nPoor sodden fools, Kaladin thought. Could he, maybe, persuade Hashal to let him take a few into Bridge Four? He could the use extra men, and seeing those slumped figures twisted his heart.\n\n\"I know that look, lad,\" Teft said. \"Why is it you always have to help everyone?\"\n\n\"Bah,\" Kaladin said. \"I can't even protect Bridge Four. Here, let me look at that arm of yours.\"\n\n\"It's not that bad.\"\n\nKaladin grabbed his arm anyway, peeling away the blood-crusted bandage. The cut was long, but shallow.\n\n\"We need antiseptic on this,\" Kaladin said, noting a few red rotspren crawling around on the wound. \"I should probably sew it up.\"\n\n\"It's not that bad!\"\n\n\"Still,\" Kaladin said, waving for Teft to follow as he approached one of the rain barrels alongside the lumberyard. The wound was shallow enough that Teft would probably be able to show the others spear thrusts and blocks tomorrow during chasm duty, but that was no excuse for leaving it alone to fester or scar." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At the rain barrel, Kaladin washed out the wound, then called for Lopen-who was standing in the shade beside the barrack-to bring his medical equipment. The Herdazian man gave that salute again, though he did it with one arm, and sauntered away to get the pack.\n\n\"So, lad,\" Teft said. \"How do you feel? Any odd experiences lately?\"\n\nKaladin frowned, looking up from the arm. \"Storm it, Teft! That's the fifth time in two days you've asked me that. What are you getting at?\"\n\n\"Nothing, nothing!\"\n\n\"It is something,\" Kaladin said. \"What is it you're digging for, Teft? I-\"\n\n\"Gancho,\" Lopen said, walking up, carrying the medical supply pack over his shoulder. \"Here you go.\"\n\nKaladin glanced at him, then reluctantly accepted the pack. He pulled the drawstrings open. \"We'll want to-\"\n\nA quick motion came from Teft. Like a punch being thrown.\n\nKaladin moved by reflex, taking in a sharp breath, moving to a defensive stance, arms up, one hand a fist, the other back to block.\n\nSomething blossomed within Kaladin. Like a deep breath drawn in, like a burning liquor injected directly into his blood. A powerful wave pulsed through his body. Energy, strength, awareness. It was like the body's natural alert response to danger, only it was a hundredfold more intense.\n\nKaladin caught Teft's fist, moving blurringly quick. Teft froze.\n\n\"What are you doing?\" Kaladin demanded.\n\nTeft was smiling. He stepped back, pulling his fist free. \"Kelek,\" he said, shaking his hand. \"That's some grip you've got.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Why did you try to strike me?\"\n\n\"I wanted to see something,\" Teft said. \"You're holding that pouch of spheres Lopen gave you, you see, and your own pouch with what we've gathered lately. More Stormlight than you've probably ever carried, at least recently.\"\n\n\"What does that have to do with anything?\" Kaladin demanded. What was that heat inside of him, that burning in his veins?\n\n\"Gancho,\" Lopen said, his voice awed. \"You're glowing.\"\n\nKaladin frowned. What is he-\n\nAnd then he noticed it. It was very faint, but it was there, wisps of luminescent smoke curling up from his skin. Like steam coming off a bowl of hot water on a cold winter night.\n\nShaking, Kaladin put the medical pack on the broad rim of the water barrel. He felt a moment of coldness on his skin. What was that? Shocked, he raised his other hand, looking at the wisps streaming off of it.\n\n\"What did you do tome?\" he demanded, looking up at Teft.\n\nThe older bridgeman was still smiling.\n\n\"Answer me!\" Kaladin said, stepping forward, grabbing the front of Teft's shirt. Stormfather, but I feel strong!\n\n\"I didn't do anything, lad,\" Teft said. \"You've been doing this fora while now. I caught you feeding off Stormlight when you were sick.\"\n\nStormlight. Kaladin hastily released Teft, fishing at the pouch of spheres in his pocket. He yanked it free and pulled it open.\n\nIt was dark inside. All five gemstones had been drained. The white light streaming from Kaladin's skin faintly illuminated the inside of the bag." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Now that's something,\" Lopen said from the side. Kaladin spun to find the Herdazian man bending down and looking at the medical pack. Why was that so important?\n\nThen Kaladin saw it. He thought he'd set the pack on the rim of the barrel, but in his haste he'd just pressed it against the side of the barrel. The pack now clung to the wood. Stuck there, hanging as if from an invisible hook. Faintly streaming light, just like Kaladin. As Kaladin watched, the light faded, and the pack slumped free and fell to the ground.\n\nKaladin raised a hand to his forehead, looking from the surprised Lopen to the curious Teft. Then he glanced around the lumberyard, frantic. Nobody else was looking at them; in the sunlight, the vapors were too faint to see from a distance.\n\nStormfather... what... how...\n\nHe caught sight of a familiar shape above. Syl moved like a blown leaf, tossed this way and that, leisurely, faint.\n\nShe did it! Kaladin thought. What has she done tome?\n\nHe stumbled away from Lopen and Teft, running toward Syl. His footsteps propelling him forward with too much speed. \"Syl!\" he bellowed, stopping beneath her.\n\nShe zipped down to hover before him, changing from a leaf to a young woman standing in the air. \"Yes?\"\n\nKaladin glanced around. \"Come with me,\" he said, hurrying to one of the alleys between barracks. He pressed himself up against a wall, standing in the shade, breathing in and out. Nobody could see him here.\n\nSyl alighted in the air before him, hands behind her back, looking closely at him. \"You're glowing.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What have you done tome?\"\n\nShe cocked her head, then shrugged.\n\n\"Syl...\" he said threateningly, though he wasn't certain what harm he could do a spren.\n\n\"I don't know, Kaladin,\" she said frankly, sitting down, her legs hanging over the side of the invisible platform. \"I can... I can only faintly remember things I used to know so well. This world, interacting with men.\"\n\n\"But you did do something.\"\n\n\"We have done something. It wasn't me. It wasn't you. But together...\" She shrugged again.\n\n\"That isn't very helpful.\"\n\nShe grimaced. \"I know. I'm sorry.\"\n\nKaladin raised a hand. In the shade, the light streaming off of him was more obvious. If someone walked by...\"How do I get rid of it?\"\n\n\"Why do you want to get rid of it?\"\n\n\"Well, because... I... Because.\"\n\nSyl didn't respond.\n\nSomething occurred to Kaladin. Something, perhaps, he should have asked long ago. \"You're not a windspren, are you?\"\n\nShe hesitated, then shook her head. \"No.\"\n\n\"What are you, then?\"\n\n\"I don't know. I bind things.\"\n\nBind things. When she played pranks, she made items stick together. Shoes stuck to the ground and made men trip. People reached for their jackets hanging on hooks and couldn't pull them free. Kaladin reached down, picking a stone up off the ground. It was as big as his palm, weathered smooth by highstorm winds and rain. He pressed it against the wall of the barrack and willed his Light into the stone." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He felt a chill. The rock began to stream with luminescent vapors. When Kaladin pulled his hand away, the stone remained where it was, clinging to the side of the building.\n\nKaladin leaned close, squinting. He thought he could faintly make out tiny spren, dark blue and shaped like little splashes of ink, clustering around the place where the rock met the wall.\n\n\"Bindspren,\" Syl said, walking up beside his head; she was still standing in the air.\n\n\"They're holding the rock in place.\"\n\n\"Maybe. Or maybe they're attracted to what you've done in affixing the stone there.\"\n\n\"That's not how it works. Is it?\"\n\n\"Do rotspren cause sickness,\" Syl said idly, \"or are they attracted to it?\"\n\n\"Everyone knows they cause it.\"\n\n\"And do windspren cause the wind? Rainspren cause the rain? Flamespren cause fires?\"\n\nHe hesitated. No, they didn't. Did they? \"This is pointless. I need to find out how to get rid of this light, not study it.\"\n\n\"And why,\" Syl repeated, \"must you get rid of it? Kaladin, you've heard the stories. Men who walked on walls, men who bound the storms to them. Windrunners. Why would you want to be rid of something like this?\"\n\nKaladin struggled to define it. The healing, the way he never got hit, running at the front of the bridge... Yes, he'd known something odd was happening. Why did it frighten him so? Was it because he feared being set apart, like his father always was as the surgeon in Hearthstone? Or was it something greater?\n\n\"I'm doing what the Radiants did,\" he said." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That's what I just said.\"\n\n\"I've been wondering if I'm bad luck, or if I've run afoul of something like the Old Magic. Maybe this explains it! The Almighty cursed the Lost Radiants for betraying mankind. What if I'm cursed too, because of what I'm doing?\"\n\n\"Kaladin,\" she said, \"you are not cursed.\"\n\n\"You just said you don't know what's happening.\" He paced in the alleyway. To the side, the rock finally plopped free and clattered to the ground. \"Can you say, with all certainty, that what I'm doing might not have drawn bad luck down upon me? Do you know enough to deny it completely, Syl?\"\n\nShe stood in the air, her arms folded, saying nothing.\n\n\"This... thing,\" Kaladin said, gesturing toward the stone. \"It isn't natural. The Radiants betrayed mankind. Their powers left them, and they were cursed. Everyone knows the legends.\" He looked down at his hands, still glowing, though more faintly than before. \"Whatever we've done, whatever has happened tome, I've somehow brought upon myself their same curse. That's why everyone around me dies when I try to help them.\"\n\n\"And you think I'm a curse?\" she asked him.\n\n\"I... Well, you said you're part of it, and...\"\n\nShe strode forward, pointing at him, a tiny, irate woman hanging in the air. \"So you think I've caused all of this? Your failures? The deaths?\"\n\nKaladin didn't respond. He realized almost immediately that silence might be the worst response. Syl-surprisingly human in her emotions-spun in the air with a wounded look and zipped away, forming a ribbon of light." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I'm overreacting, he told himself. He was just so unsettled. He leaned back against the wall, hand to head. Before he had time to collect his thoughts, shadows darkened the entry to the alleyway. Teft and Lopen.\n\n\"Rock talkers!\" Lopen said. \"You really shine in shade, gancho!\"\n\nTeft gripped Lopen's shoulder. \"He's not going to tell anyone, lad. I'll make certain of it.\"\n\n\"Yeah, gancho,\" Lopen said. \"I swore I'd say nothing. You can trust a Herdazian.\"\n\nKaladin looked at the two, overwhelmed. He pushed past them, running out of the alley and across the lumberyard, fleeing from watching eyes.\n\nBy the time night drew close, the light had long since stopped streaming from Kaladin's body. It had faded like afire going out, and had only taken a few minutes to vanish.\n\nKaladin walked southward along the edge of the Shattered Plains, in that transitional area between the warcamps and the Plains themselves. In some areas-like at the staging area near Sadeas's lumbercamp-there was a soft slope leading down between the two. At other points, there was a short ridge, eight or so feet tall. He passed one of these now, rocks to his right, open Plains to his left.\n\nHollows, crevasses, and nooks scored the rock. Some shadowed sections here still hid pools of water from the highstorms days ago. Creatures still scuttled around the rocks, though the cooling evening air would soon drive them to hide. He passed a place pocked with small, water-filled holes; cremlings-multilegged, bearing tiny claws, their elongated bodies plated with carapace-lapped and fed at the edges. A small tentacle snapped out, yanking one down into the hole. Probably a grasper." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Grass grew up the side of the ridge beside him, and the blades peeked from their holes. Bunches of fingermoss sprouted like flowers amid the green. The bright pink and purple fingermoss tendrils were reminiscent of tentacles themselves, waving at him in the wind. When he passed, the timid grass pulled back, but the fingermoss was bolder. The clumps would only pull into their shells if he tapped the rock near them.\n\nAbove him, on the ridge, a few scouts stood watch over the Shattered Plains. This area beneath the ridge belonged to no specific highprince, and the scouts ignored Kaladin. He would only be stopped if he tried to leave the warcamps at the southern or northern sides.\n\nNone of the bridgemen had come after him. He wasn't certain what Teft had told them. Perhaps he'd said Kaladin was distraught following Maps's death.\n\nIt felt odd to be alone. Ever since he'd been betrayed by Amaram and made a slave, he had been in the company of others. Slaves with whom he'd plotted. Bridgemen with whom he'd worked. Soldiers to guard him, slavemasters to beat him, friends to depend on him. The last time he'd been alone had been that night when he'd been tied up for the highstorm to kill him.\n\nNo, he thought. I wasn't alone that night. Syl was there. He lowered his head, passing small cracks in the ground to his left. Those lines eventually grew into chasms as they moved eastward.\n\nWhat was happening to him? He wasn't delusional. Teft and Lopen had seen it too. Teft had actually seemed to expect it.\n\nKaladin should have died during that highstorm. And yet, he had been up and walking shortly afterward. His ribs should still be tender, but they hadn't ached in weeks. His spheres, and those of the other bridgemen near him, had consistently run out of Stormlight." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Had it been the highstorm that had changed him? But no, he'd discovered drained spheres before being hung out to die. And Syl... she'd as much as admitted responsibility for some of what had happened. This had been going on along time.\n\nHe stopped beside a rock outcropping, resting against it, causing grass to shrink away. He looked eastward, over the Shattered Plains. His home. His sepulcher. This life on them was ripping him apart. The bridgemen looked up to him, thought him their leader, their savior. But he had cracks in him, like the cracks in the stone here at the edges of the Plains.\n\nThose cracks were growing larger. He kept making promises to himself, like a man running along distance with no energy left. Just a little farther. Run just to that next hill. Then you can give up. Tiny fractures, fissures in the stone.\n\nIt's right that I came here, he thought. We belong together, you and I. I'm like you. What had made the Plains break in the first place? Some kind of great weight?\n\nA melody began playing distantly, carrying over the Plains. Kaladin jumped at the sound. It was so unexpected, so out of place, that it was startling despite its softness.\n\nThe sounds were coming from the Plains. Hesitant, yet unable to resist, he walked forward. Eastward, onto the flat, windswept rock. The sounds grew louder as he walked, but they were still haunting, elusive. A flute, though one lower in pitch than most he'd heard.\n\nAshe grew closer, Kaladin smelled smoke. Alight was burning out there. A tiny campfire.\n\nKaladin walked out to the edge of this particular peninsula, a chasm growing from the cracks until it plunged down into darkness. At the very tip of the peninsula-surrounded on three sides by chasm-Kaladin found a man sitting on a boulder, wearing a lighteyes's black uniform. A small fire of rockbud shell burned in front of him. The man's hair was short and black, his face angular. He wore a thin, black-sheathed sword at his waist." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The man's eyes were a pale blue. Kaladin had never heard of a lighteyed man playing a flute. Didn't they consider music a feminine pursuit? Lighteyed men sang, but they didn't play instruments unless they were ardents.\n\nThis man was extremely talented. The odd melody he played was alien, almost unreal, like something from another place and time. It echoed down the chasm and came back; it almost sounded like the man was playing a duet with himself.\n\nKaladin stopped a short distance away, realizing that the last thing he wanted to do now was deal with a brightlord, particularly one who was eccentric enough to dress in black and wander out onto the Shattered Plains to practice his flute. Kaladin turned to go.\n\nThe music cutoff. Kaladin paused.\n\n\"I always worry that I'll forget how to play her,\" a soft voice said from behind. \"It's silly, I know, considering how long I've practiced. But these days I rarely give her the attention she deserves.\"\n\nKaladin turned toward the stranger. His flute was carved from a dark wood that was almost black. The instrument seemed too ordinary to belong to a lighteyes, yet the man held it reverently.\n\n\"What are you doing here?\" Kaladin asked.\n\n\"Sitting. Occasionally playing.\"\n\n\"I mean, why are you here?\"\n\n\"Why am I here?\" the man asked, lowering his flute, leaning back and relaxing. \"Why are any of us here? That's a rather deep question fora first meeting, young bridgeman. I generally prefer introductions before theology. Lunch too, if it can be found. Perhaps a nice nap. Actually, practically anything should come before theology. But especially introductions.\"\n\n\"All right,\" Kaladin said. \"And you are...?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Sitting. Occasionally playing... with the minds of bridgemen.\"\n\nKaladin reddened, turning again to go. Let the fool lighteyes say, and do, what he wished. Kaladin had difficult decisions to think about.\n\n\"Well, off with you then,\" the lighteyes said from behind. \"Glad you are going. Wouldn't want you too close. I'm rather attached to my Stormlight.\"\n\nKaladin froze. Then he spun. \"What?\"\n\n\"My spheres,\" the strange man said, holding up what appeared to be a fully infused emerald broam. \"Everyone knows that bridgemen are thieves, or at least beggars.\"\n\nOf course. He had been talking about spheres. He didn't know about Kaladin's... affliction. Did he? The man's eyes twinkled as if at a grand joke.\n\n\"Don't be insulted at being called a thief,\" the man said, raising a finger. Kaladin frowned. Where had the sphere gone? He had been holding it in that hand. \"I meant it as a compliment.\"\n\n\"A compliment? Calling someone a thief?\"\n\n\"Of course. I myself am a thief.\"\n\n\"You are? What do you steal?\"\n\n\"Pride,\" the man said, leaning forward. \"And occasionally boredom, if I may take the pride unto myself. I am the King's Wit. Or I was until recently. I think I shall probably lose the title soon.\"\n\n\"The king's what?\"\n\n\"Wit. It was my job to be witty.\"\n\n\"Saying confusing things isn't the same as being witty.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" the man said, eyes twinkling. \"Already you prove yourself more wise than most who have been my acquaintance lately. What is it to be witty, then?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"To say clever things.\"\n\n\"And what is cleverness?\"\n\n\"I...\" Why was he having this conversation? \"I guess it's the ability to say and do the right things at the right time.\"\n\nThe King's Wit cocked his head, then smiled. Finally, he held out his hand to Kaladin. \"And what is your name, my thoughtful bridgeman?\"\n\nKaladin hesitantly raised his own hand. \"Kaladin. And yours?\"\n\n\"I've many.\" The man shook Kaladin's hand. \"I began life as a thought, a concept, words on a page. That was another thing I stole. Myself. Another time, I was named fora rock.\"\n\n\"A pretty one, I hope.\"\n\n\"A beautiful one,\" the man said. \"And one that became completely worthless for my wearing it.\"\n\n\"Well, what do men call you now?\"\n\n\"Many a thing, and only some of them polite. Almost all are true, unfortunately. You, however, you may call me Hoid.\"\n\n\"Your name?\"\n\n\"No. The name of someone I should have loved. Once again, this is a thing I stole. It is something we thieves do.\" He glanced eastward, over the rapidly darkening Plains. The little fire burning beside Hoid's boulder shed a fugitive light, red from glimmering coals.\n\n\"Well, it was pleasant to meet you,\" Kaladin said. \"I will be on my way....\"\n\n\"Not before I give you something.\" Hoid picked up his flute. \"Wait, please.\"\n\nKaladin sighed. He had a feeling that this odd man was not going to let him escape until he was done." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"This is a Trailman's flute,\" Hoid said, inspecting the length of dark wood. \"It is meant to be used by a storyteller, for him to play while he is telling a story.\"\n\n\"You mean to accompany a storyteller. Being played by someone else while he speaks.\"\n\n\"Actually, I meant what I said.\"\n\n\"How would a man tell a story while playing the flute?\"\n\nHoid raised an eyebrow, then lifted the flute to his lips. He played it differently from flutes Kaladin had seen-instead of holding it down in front of him, Hoid held it out to the side and blew across its top. He tested a few notes. They had the same melancholy tone that Kaladin had heard before.\n\n\"This story,\" Hoid said, \"is about Derethil and the Wandersail.\"\n\nHe began to play. The notes were quicker, sharper, than the ones he'd played earlier. They almost seemed to tumble over one another, scurrying out of the flute like children racing one another to be first. They were beautiful and crisp, rising and falling scales, intricate as a woven rug.\n\nKaladin found himself transfixed. The tune was powerful, almost demanding. As if each note were a hook, flung out to spear Kaladin's flesh and hold him near.\n\nHoid stopped abruptly, but the notes continued to echo in the chasm, coming back as he spoke. \"Derethil is well known in some lands, though I have heard him spoken of less herein the East. He was a king during the shadowdays, the time before memory. A powerful man. Commander of thousands, leader of tens of thousands. Tall, regal, blessed with fair skin and fairer eyes. He was a man to envy.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Just as the echoes faded below, Hoid began to play again, picking up the rhythm." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He actually seemed to continue just where the echoing notes grew too soft, as if there had never been a break in the music. The notes grew more smooth, suggesting a king walking through court with his attendants. As Hoid played, eyes closed, he leaned forward toward the fire. The air he blew over the flute churned the smoke, stirring it.\n\nThe music grew softer. The smoke swirled, and Kaladin thought he could make out the face of a man in the patterns of smoke, a man with a pointed chin and lofty cheekbones. It wasn't really there, of course. Just imagination. But the haunting song and the swirling smoke seemed to encourage his imagination.\n\n\"Derethil fought the Voidbringers during the days of the Heralds and Radiants,\" Hoid said, eyes still closed, flute just below his lips, the song echoing in the chasm and seeming to accompany his words. \"When there was finally peace, he found he was not content. His eyes always turned westward, toward the great open sea. He commissioned the finest ship men had ever known, a majestic vessel intended to do what none had dared before: sail the seas during a highstorm.\"\n\nThe echoes tapered off, and Hoid began playing again, as if alternating with an invisible partner. The smoke swirled, rising in the air, twisting in the wind of Hoid's breath. And Kaladin almost thought he could see an enormous ship in a shipyard, with a sail as large as a building, secured to an arrowlike hull. The melody became quick and clipped, as if to imitate the sounds of mallets pounding and saws cutting.\n\n\"Derethil's goal,\" Hoid paused and said, \"was to seek the origin of the Voidbringers, the place where they had been spawned. Many called him a fool, yet he could not hold himself back. He named the vessel the Wandersail and gathered a crew of the bravest of sailors. Then, on a day when a highstorm brewed, this ship castoff. Riding out into the ocean, the sail hung wide, like arms open to the stormwinds....\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The flute was at Hoid's lips in a second and he stirred the fire by kicking at apiece of rockbud shell. Sparks of flame rose in the air and smoke puffed, swirling as Hoid rotated his head down and pointed the flute's holes at the smoke. The song became violent, tempestuous, notes falling unexpectedly and trilling with quick undulations. Scales rippled into high notes, where they screeched airily.\n\nAnd Kaladin saw it in his mind's eye. The massive ship suddenly miniscule before the awesome power of a highstorm. Blown, carried out into the endless sea. What had this Derethil hoped or expected to find? A highstorm on land was terrible enough. But on the sea?\n\nThe sounds bounced off the echoing walls below. Kaladin found himself sinking down to the rocks, watching the swirling smoke and rising flames. Seeing the tiny ship captured and held within a furious maelstrom.\n\nEventually, Hoid's music slowed, and the violent echoes faded, leaving a much gentler song. Like lapping waves.\n\n\"The Wandersail was nearly destroyed in the crash, but Derethil and most of his sailors survived. They found themselves on a ring of small islands surrounding an enormous whirlpool, where, it is said, the ocean drains. Derethil and his men were greeted by a strange people with long, limber bodies who wore robes of single color and shells in their hair unlike any that grow back on Roshar.\n\n\"These people took the survivors in, fed them, and nursed them back to health. During his weeks of recovery, Derethil studied the strange people, who called themselves the Uvara, the People of the Great Abyss. They lived curious lives. Unlike the people in Roshar-who constantly argue-the Uvara always seemed to agree. From childhood, there were no questions. Each and every person went about his duty.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Advance the plot as the writer's tale assistant.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, knights radiant\nAuthor: Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: The Way of Kings\nChapter: 83" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Once he held that spear again, there would be no turning back.\n\n\"Well.\" Teft rubbed his chin. \"When the time comes, I hope you're ready. Because this lot will need you.\"\n\nKaladin nodded and Teft hurried back to the others, giving some kind of explanation to mollify them." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I couldn't decide if you were interested or not,\" Navani said softly to Dalinar as they slowly walked around the grounds of Elhokar's raised field palace. \"Half the time, you seemed like a flirt-offering hints at courtship, then backing away. The other half of the time, I was certain I had misread you. And Gavilar was so forthcoming. He always did prefer to seize what he wished.\"\n\nDalinar nodded thoughtfully. He wore his blue uniform, while Navani was in a subdued maroon dress with a thick hem. Elhokar's gardeners had begun to cultivate the plant life here. To their right, a twisting length of yellow shalebark rose to waist height, like a railing. The stonelike plant was overgrown by small bunches of haspers with pearly shells slowly opening and closing as they breathed. They looked like tiny mouths, silently speaking in rhythm with one another.\n\nDalinar and Navani's pathway took a leisurely course up the hillside. Dalinar strolled with hands clasped behind his back. His honor guard and Navani's clerks followed behind. A few of them looked perplexed at the amount of time Dalinar and Navani were spending with one another. How many of them suspected the truth? All? Part? None? Did it matter? \"I didn't mean to confuse you, all those years ago,\" he said, voice soft to keep it from prying ears. \"I had intended to court you, but Gavilar expressed a preference for you. So I eventually felt I had to step aside.\"\n\n\"Just like that?\" Navani asked. She sounded offended.\n\n\"He didn't realize that I was interested. He thought that by introducing you to him, I was indicating that he should court you. That was often how our relationship worked; I would discover people Gavilar should know, then bring them to him. I didn't realize until too late what I had done in giving you to him.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"\"Giving\" me? Is there a slave's brand on my forehead of which I've been unaware?\"\n\n\"I did not mean-\"\n\n\"Oh hush,\" Navani said, her voice suddenly fond. Dalinar stifled a sigh; though Navani had matured since their youth, her moods always had changed as quickly as the seasons. In truth, that was part of her allure.\n\n\"Did you often step aside for him?\" Navani asked.\n\n\"Always.\"\n\n\"Didn't that grow tiresome?\"\n\n\"I didn't think about it much,\" Dalinar said. \"When I did... yes, I was frustrated. But it was Gavilar. You know how he was. That force of will, that air of natural entitlement. It always seemed to surprise him when someone denied him or when the world itself didn't do as he wished. He didn't force me to defer-it was simply how life was.\"\n\nNavani nodded in understanding.\n\n\"Regardless,\" Dalinar said, \"I apologize for confusing you. I... well, I had difficulty letting go. I fear that-on occasion-I let too much of my true feelings slip out.\"\n\n\"Well, I suppose I can forgive that,\" she said. \"Though you did spend the next two decades making certain I thought you hated me.\"\n\n\"I did nothing of the sort!\"\n\n\"Oh? And how else was Ito interpret your coldness? The way you would often leave the room when I arrived?\"\n\n\"Containing myself,\" Dalinar said. \"I had made my decision.\"\n\n\"Well, it looked a lot like hatred,\" Navani said. \"Though I did wonder several times what you were hiding behind those stony eyes of yours. Of course, then Shshshsh came along.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "As always, when the name of his wife was spoken, it came to him as the sound of softly rushing air, then slipped from his mind immediately." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He could not hear, or remember, the name.\n\n\"She changed everything,\" Navani said. \"You truly seemed to love her.\"\n\n\"I did,\" Dalinar said. Surely he had loved her. Hadn't he? He could remember nothing. \"What was she like?\" He quickly added, \"I mean, in your opinion. How did you see her?\"\n\n\"Everyone loved Shshshsh,\" Navani said. \"I tried hard to hate her, but in the end, I could only be mildly jealous.\"\n\n\"You? Jealous of her? Whatever for?\"\n\n\"Because,\" Navani said. \"She fit you so well, never making inappropriate comments, never bullying those around her, always so calm.\" Navani smiled. \"Thinking back, I really should have been able to hate her. But she was just so nice. Though she wasn't very... well...\"\n\n\"What?\" Dalinar asked.\n\n\"Clever,\" Navani said. She blushed, which was rare for her. \"I'm sorry, Dalinar, but she just wasn't. She wasn't a fool, but... well... not everyone can be cunning. Perhaps that was part of her charm.\"\n\nShe seemed to think that Dalinar would be offended. \"It's all right,\" he said. \"Were you surprised that I married her?\"\n\n\"Who could be surprised? As I said, she was perfect for you.\"\n\n\"Because we were matched intellectually?\" Dalinar said dryly.\n\n\"Hardly. But you were matched in temperament. Fora time, after I got over trying to hate her, I thought that the four of us could be quite close. But you were so stiff toward me.\"\n\n\"I could not allow any further... lapses to make you think that I was still interested.\" He said the last part awkwardly. After all, wasn't that what he was doing now? Lapsing?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Navani eyed him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"There you go again.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Feeling guilty. Dalinar, you area wonderful, honorable man-but you really are quite prone to self-indulgence.\"\n\nGuilt? As self-indulgence? \"I never considered it that way before.\"\n\nShe smiled deeply.\n\n\"What?\" he asked.\n\n\"You really are genuine, aren't you, Dalinar?\"\n\n\"I try to be,\" he said. He glanced over his shoulder. \"Though the nature of our relationship continues to perpetuate a kind of lie.\"\n\n\"We've lied to nobody. Let them think, or guess, what they wish.\"\n\n\"I suppose you are right.\"\n\n\"I usually am.\" She fell silent fora moment. \"Do you regret what we have-\"\n\n\"No,\" Dalinar said sharply, the strength of his objection surprising him. Navani just smiled. \"No,\" Dalinar continued, more gently. \"I do not regret this, Navani. I don't know how to proceed, but I am not going to let go.\"\n\nNavani hesitated beside a growth of tiny, fist-size rockbuds with their vines out like long green tongues. They were grouped almost like a bouquet, growing on a large oval stone placed beside the pathway.\n\n\"I suppose it's too much to ask for you to not feel guilty,\" Navani said. \"Can't you let yourself bend, just a little?\"\n\n\"I'm not certain if I can. Particularly not now. Explaining why would be difficult.\"\n\n\"Could you try to? For me?\"\n\n\"I... Well, I'm a man of extremes, Navani. I discovered that when I was a youth. I've learned, repeatedly, that the only way to control those extremes is to dedicate my life to something. First it was Gavilar. Now it's the Codes and the teachings of Nohadon. They're the means by which I bind myself. Like the enclosure of afire, meant to contain and control it.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He took a deep breath. \"I'm a weak man, Navani. I really am. If I give myself a few feet of leeway, I burst through all of my prohibitions. The momentum of following the Codes these years after Gavilar's death is what keeps me strong. If I let a few cracks into that armor, I might return to the man I once was. A man I never want to be again.\"\n\nA man who had contemplated murdering his own brother for the throne-and for the woman who had married that brother. But he couldn't explain that, didn't dare let Navani know what his desire for her had once almost driven him to do.\n\nOn that day, Dalinar had sworn that he would never hold the throne himself. That was one of his restraints. Could he explain how she, without trying, pried at those restraints? How it was difficult to reconcile his long-fermenting love for her with his guilt at finally taking for himself what he'd long ago given up for his brother?\n\n\"You are not a weak man, Dalinar,\" Navani said.\n\n\"I am. But weakness can imitate strength if bound properly, just as cowardice can imitate heroism if given nowhere to flee.\"\n\n\"But there's nothing in Gavilar's book that prohibits us. It's just tradition that-\"\n\n\"It feels wrong,\" Dalinar said. \"But please, don't worry; I do enough worrying for both of us. I will find away to make this work; I just ask your understanding. It will take time. When I display frustration, it is not with you, but with the situation.\"\n\n\"I suppose I can accept that. Assuming you can live with the rumors. They're starting already.\"\n\n\"They won't be the first rumors to plague me,\" he said. \"I'm starting to worry less about them and more about Elhokar. How will we explain to him?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I doubt he'll notice,\" Navani said, snorting softly, resuming her walk. He followed. \"He's so fixated on the Parshendi and, occasionally, the idea that someone in camp is trying to kill him.\"\n\n\"This might feed into that,\" Dalinar said. \"He could read a number of conspiracies out of the two of us entering a relationship.\"\n\n\"Well, he-\"\n\nHorns began sounding loudly from below. Dalinar and Navani stopped to listen and identify the call.\n\n\"Stormfather,\" Dalinar said. \"That's the Tower itself where a chasmfiend has been seen. It's one of the plateaus Sadeas has been watching.\" Dalinar felt a surge of excitement. \"Highprinces have failed every time to win a gemheart there. It will be a major victory if he and I can do it together.\"\n\nNavani looked troubled. \"You're right about him, Dalinar. We do need him for our cause. But keep him at arm's length.\"\n\n\"Wish me the wind's favor.\" He reached toward her, but then stopped himself. What was he going to do? Embrace her here, in public? That would set off the rumors like fire across a pool of oil. He wasn't ready for that yet. Instead, he bowed to her, then hastened off to answer the call and collect his Shardplate.\n\nIt wasn't until he was halfway down the path that he paused to consider Navani's choice of words. She had said'We need him\" for'our cause.\"\n\nWhat was their cause? He doubted that Navani knew either. But she had already started to think of them as together in their efforts.\n\nAnd, he realized, so did he." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The horns called, such a pure and beautiful sound to signify the imminence of battle. It caused a frenzy in the lumberyard. The orders had comedown. The Tower was to be assaulted again-the very place where Bridge Four had failed, the place where Kaladin had caused a disaster.\n\nLargest of the plateaus. Most coveted.\n\nBridgemen ran this way and that for their vests. Carpenters and apprentices rushed out of the way. Matal shouted orders; an actual run was the only time he did that without Hashal. Bridgeleaders, showing a modicum of leadership, bellowed for their teams to lineup.\n\nA wind whipped the air, blowing wood chips and bits of dried grass into the sky. Men yelled, bells rang. And into this chaos strode Bridge Four, Kaladin at their head. Despite the urgency, soldiers stopped, bridgemen gaped, carpenters and apprentices stilled.\n\nThirty-five men marched in rusty orange carapace armor, expertly crafted by Leyten to fit onto leather jerkins and caps. They'd cutoff arm guards and shin guards to complement the breastplates. The helms were built from several different headpieces, and had been ornamented-at Leyten's insistence-with ridges and cuts, like tiny horns or the edges of a crab's shell. The breastplates and guards were ornamented as well, cut into toothlike patterns, each one reminiscent of a saw blade. Earless Jaks had bought blue and white paint and drawn designs across the orange armor.\n\nEach member of Bridge Four carried a large wooden shield strapped-tightly now-with red Parshendi bones. Ribs, for the most part, shaped in spiral patterns. Some of the men had tied finger bones to the centers so they would rattle, and others had attached protruding sharp ribs to the sides of their helms, giving them the look of fangs or mandibles." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The onlookers watched with amazement. It wasn't the first time they'd seen this armor, but this would be the first run where every man of Bridge Four had it. All together, it made an impressive sight.\n\nTen days, with six bridge runs, had allowed Kaladin and his team to perfect their method. Five men to be decoys with five more in the front holding shields and using only one arm to support the bridge. Their numbers were augmented by the wounded they'd saved from other crews, now strong enough to help carry.\n\nSo far-despite six bridge runs-there hadn't been a single fatality. The other bridgemen were whispering about a miracle. Kaladin didn't know about that. He just made certain to keep a full pouch of infused spheres with him at all times. Most of the Parshendi archers seemed to focus on him. Somehow, they could tell that he was the center of all this.\n\nThey reached their bridge and formed up, shields strapped to rods on the sides to await use. As they hefted their bridge, a spontaneous round of cheering rose up from the other crews.\n\n\"That's new,\" Teft said from Kaladin's left.\n\n\"Guess they finally realized what we are,\" Kaladin said.\n\n\"And what's that?\"\n\nKaladin settled the bridge onto his shoulders. \"We're their champions. Bridge forward!\"\n\nThey broke into a trot, leading the way down from the staging yard, ushered by cheers.\n\nMy father is not insane, Adolin thought, alive with energy and excitement as his armorers strapped on his Shardplate.\n\nAdolin had stewed over Navani's revelation for days. He'd been wrong in such a horrible way. Dalinar Kholin wasn't growing weak. He wasn't getting senile. He wasn't a coward. Dalinar had been right, and Adolin had been wrong. After much soul searching, Adolin had come to a decision." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He was glad that he'd been wrong.\n\nHe grinned, flexing the fingers of his Plated hand as the armorers moved to his other side. He didn't know what the visions meant, or what the implications of those visions would be. His father was some kind of prophet, and that was daunting to consider.\n\nBut for now, it was enough that Dalinar was not insane. It was time to trust him. Stormfather knew, Dalinar had earned that right from his sons.\n\nThe armorers finished with Adolin's Shardplate. As they stepped away, Adolin hurried out of the armoring room into the sunlight, adjusting to the combined strength, speed, and weight of the Shardplate. Niter and five other members of the Cobalt Guard hastened up, one bringing Sureblood to him. Adolin took the reins, but led the Ryshadium at first, wanting more time to adapt to his Plate.\n\nThey soon entered the staging area. Dalinar's father, in his Shardplate, was conferring with Teleb and Ilamar. He seemed to tower over them as he pointed eastward. Already, companies of soldiers were moving out onto the lip of the Plains.\n\nAdolin strode up to his father, eager. In the near distance, he noticed a figure riding down along the eastern rim of the warcamps. The figure wore gleaming red Shardplate.\n\n\"Father?\" Adolin said, pointing. \"What's he doing here? Shouldn't he be waiting for us to ride to his camp?\"\n\nDalinar looked up. He waved fora groom to bring Gallant, and the two of them mounted. They rode down to intercept Sadeas, trailed by a dozen members of the Cobalt Guard. Did Sadeas want to call off the assault? Was he worried about failing against the Tower again?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Once they drew close, Dalinar pulled up. \"You should be moving, Sadeas. Speed will be important, if we're to get to the plateau before the Parshendi take the gemheart and go.\"\n\nThe highprince nodded. \"Agreed, in part. But we need to confer first. Dalinar, this is the Tower we're assaulting!\" He seemed eager.\n\n\"Yes, and?\"\n\n\"Damnation, man!\" Sadeas said. \"You're the one who told me we needed to find away to trap a large force of Parshendi on a plateau. The Tower is perfect. They always bring a large force there, and two sides are inaccessible.\"\n\nAdolin found himself nodding. \"Yes,\" he said. \"Father, he's right. If we can box them in and hit them hard...\" The Parshendi normally fled when they took large losses. That was one of the things extending the war so long.\n\n\"It could mean a turning point in the war,\" Sadeas said, eyes alight. \"My scribes estimate that they have no more than twenty or thirty thousand troops left. The Parshendi will commit ten thousand here-they always do. But if we can corner and kill all of them, we could nearly destroy their ability to wage war on these Plains.\"\n\n\"It'll work, Father,\" Adolin said eagerly. \"This could be what we've been waiting for-what you've been waiting for. Away to turn the war, away to deal enough damage to the Parshendi that they can't afford to keep fighting!\"\n\n\"We need troops, Dalinar,\" Sadeas said. \"Lots of them. How many men could you field, at maximum?\"\n\n\"On short notice?\" Dalinar said. \"Eight thousand, perhaps.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It will have to do,\" Sadeas said. \"I've managed to mobilize about seven thousand. We'll bring them all. Get your eight thousand to my camp, and we'll take everyone of my bridge crews and march together. The Parshendi will get there first-it's inevitable with a plateau that close to their side-but if we can be fast enough, we can corner them on the plateau. Then we'll show them what areal Alethi army is capable of!\"\n\n\"I won't risk lives on your bridges, Sadeas,\" Dalinar said. \"I don't know that I can agree to a completely joint assault.\"\n\n\"Bah,\" Sadeas said. \"I've got anew way of using bridgemen, one that doesn't use nearly as many lives. Their casualties have dropped to almost nothing.\"\n\n\"Really?\" Dalinar said. \"Is it because of those bridgemen with armor? What made you change?\"\n\nSadeas shrugged. \"Perhaps you're getting through tome. Regardless, we need to go now. Together. With as many troops as they'll have, I can't risk engaging them and waiting for you to catch up. I want to go together and assault as closely together as we can manage. If you're still worried about the bridgemen, I can attack first and gain a foothold, then let you cross without risking bridgeman lives.\"\n\nDalinar looked thoughtful.\n\nCome on, Father, Adolin thought. You've been waiting fora chance to hit the Parshendi hard. This is it!\n\n\"Very well,\" Dalinar said. \"Adolin, send messengers to mobilize the Fourth through Eighth Divisions. Prepare the men to march. Let's end this war.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Several hours later, Dalinar stood with Sadeas on a rock formation overlooking the Tower itself. It had been a hard, long march. This was a distant plateau, as far eastward as they had ever struck. Plateaus beyond this point were impossible to take. The Parshendi could arrive so quickly that they had the gemheart out before the Alethi arrived. Sometimes that happened with the Tower as well.\n\nDalinar searched. \"I see it,\" he said, pointing. \"They don't have the gemheart out yet!\" A ring of Parshendi were pounding on the chrysalis. Its shell was like thick stone, however. It was still holding.\n\n\"You should be glad you're using my bridges, old friend.\" Sadeas shaded his face with a gauntleted hand. \"Those chasms might be too wide fora Shardbearer to jump.\"\n\nDalinar nodded. The Tower was enormous; even its huge size on the maps didn't do it justice. Unlike other plateaus, it wasn't level-instead, it was shaped like an enormous wedge that dipped toward the west, pointing a large cliff face in the stormward direction. It was too steep-and the chasms too wide-to approach from the east or south. Only three adjacent plateaus could provide staging areas for assaults, all along the western or northwestern side.\n\nThe chasms between these plateaus were unusually large, almost too wide for the bridges to span. On the nearby staging plateaus, thousands upon thousands of soldiers in blue or red were gathered, one color per plateau. Combined, they made fora larger force than Dalinar had ever seen brought against the Parshendi.\n\nThe Parshendi numbers were as large as anticipated. There were at least ten thousand of them lining up. This would be a full-scale battle, the kind Dalinar had been hoping for, the kind that would let them pita huge number of Alethi against a large Parshendi force." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This could be it. The turning point in the war. Win this day, and everything would change.\n\nDalinar shaded his eyes as well, helm under his arm. He noted with satisfaction that Sadeas's scouting crews were crossing to adjacent plateaus where they could watch for Parshendi reinforcements. Just because the Parshendi had brought so many at first didn't mean that there were no other Parshendi forces waiting to flank them. Dalinar and Sadeas wouldn't betaken by surprise again.\n\n\"Come with me,\" Sadeas said. \"Let us assault them together! A single grand wave of attack, across forty bridges!\"\n\nDalinar looked down at the bridge crews; many of their members were lying exhausted on the plateau. Awaiting-likely dreading-their next task. Very few of them wore the armor Sadeas had spoken of. Hundreds of them would be slaughtered in the assault if they attacked together. But was that any different from what Dalinar did, asking his men to charge into battle to seize the plateau? Weren't they all part of the same army?\n\nThe cracks. He couldn't let them get wider. If he was going to be with Navani, he had to prove to himself he could remain firm in the other areas. \"No,\" he said. \"I will attack, but only after you've made a landing point for my bridge crews. Even that is more than I should allow. Never force your men to do as you yourself would not.\"\n\n\"You do charge the Parshendi!\"\n\n\"I'd never do it carrying one of those bridges,\" Dalinar said. \"I'm sorry, old friend. It's not a judgment of you. It is what I must do.\"\n\nSadeas shook his head, pulling on his helmet. \"Well, it will have to do. We still planning on dining together tonight to discuss strategy?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I assume so. Unless Elhokar has a fit for both of us missing his feast.\"\n\nSadeas snorted. \"He's going to have to grow accustomed to it. Six years of feasting every night is growing tedious. Besides, I doubt he'll feel anything but elation after we win this day and leave the Parshendi down a full third of their soldiers. See you on the battlefield.\"\n\nDalinar nodded and Sadeas jumped off the rock formation, dropping down to the surface below and joining his officers. Dalinar lingered, looking over at the Tower. It was not only larger than most plateaus, it was rougher, covered with lumpish rock formations of hardened crem. The patterns were rolling and smooth, yet very uneven-like afield full of short walls covered by a blanket of snow.\n\nThe southeastern tip of the plateau rose to a point overlooking the Plains. The two plateaus they'd use were on the middle of the west side; Sadeas would take the northern one and Dalinar would assault from one just below it, once Sadeas had cleared a landing for him.\n\nWe need to push the Parshendi to the southeast, Dalinar thought, rubbing his chin, corner them there. Everything hinged on that. The chrysalis was up near the top, so the Parshendi were already situated in a good position for Dalinar and Sadeas to push them back against the cliff edge. The Parshendi would probably allow this, as it would give them the high ground.\n\nIf a second Parshendi army came, it would be separated from the others. The Alethi could focus on the Parshendi trapped atop the Tower while holding a defensive formation against the new arrivals. It would work.\n\nHe felt himself growing excited. He hopped down to a shorter outcropping, then walked down a few steplike clefts to reach the plateau floor, where his officers waited. He then rounded the rock formation, investigating Adolin's progress. The young man stood in his Shardplate, directing the companies as they crossed Sadeas's mobile bridges onto the southern staging plateau. In the near distance, Sadeas's men were forming up for the assault." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That group of armored bridgemen stood out, preparing at the front center of the formation of bridge crews. Why were they allowed armor? Why not the others as well? It looked like Parshendi carapace. Dalinar shook his head. The assault began, bridge crews running out ahead of Sadeas's army, approaching the Tower first.\n\n\"Where would you like to make our assault, Father?\" Adolin asked, summoning his Shardblade and resting it on his pauldron, sharp side up.\n\n\"There,\" Dalinar said, pointing to a spot on their staging plateau. \"Get the men ready.\"\n\nAdolin nodded, shouting the orders.\n\nIn the distance, bridgemen began to die. Heralds guide your paths, you poor men, Dalinar thought. As well as my own.\n\nKaladin danced with the wind.\n\nArrows streamed around him, passing close, nearly kissing him with their painted scragglebark fletching. He had to let them get close, had to make the Parshendi feel they were near to killing him.\n\nDespite four other bridgemen drawing their attention, despite the other men of Bridge Four behind armored with the skeletons of fallen Parshendi, most of the archers focused on Kaladin. He was a symbol. A living banner to destroy.\n\nKaladin spun between arrows, slapping them away with his shield. A storm raged inside him, as if his blood had been sucked away and replaced with stormwinds. It made his fingertips tingle with energy. Ahead, the Parshendi sang their angry, chanting song. The song for one who blasphemed against their dead.\n\nKaladin stayed at the front of the decoys, letting the arrows fall close. Daring them. Taunting them. Demanding they kill him until the arrows stopped falling and the wind stilled." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kaladin came to rest, breath held to contain the storm within. The Parshendi reluctantly fell back before Sadeas's force. An enormous force, as far as plateau assaults went. Thousands of men and thirty-two bridges. Despite Kaladin's distraction, five bridges had been dropped, the men carrying them slaughtered.\n\nNone of the soldiers rushing across the chasm had made any specific effort to attack the archers firing on Kaladin, but the weight of numbers had forced them away. A few gave Kaladin loathing gazes, making an odd gesture by cupping a hand to the right ear and pointing at him before finally retreating.\n\nKaladin released his breath, Stormlight pulsing away from him. He had to walk a very fine line, drawing in enough Stormlight to stay alive, but not so much that it was visible to the watching soldiers.\n\nThe Tower rose ahead of him, a slab of stone that dipped toward the west. The chasm was so wide that he'd worried the men would drop the bridge into the chasm as they tried to place it. On the other side, Sadeas had arrayed his forces in a cupping shape, pushing the Parshendi back away, trying to give Dalinar an opening.\n\nPerhaps attacking this way served to protect Dalinar's pristine image. He wouldn't make bridgemen die. Not directly, at least. Never mind that he stood on the backs of the men who had fallen to get Sadeas across. Their corpses were his true bridge.\n\n\"Kaladin!\" a voice called from behind.\n\nKaladin spun. One of his men was wounded. Storm it! he thought, dashing up to Bridge Four. There was enough Stormlight still pulsing in his veins to stave off exhaustion. He'd grown complacent. Six bridge runs without a casualty. He should have realized it couldn't last. He pushed through the collected bridgemen to find Skar on the ground, holding his foot, red blood seeping between his fingers." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Arrow in the foot,\" Skar said through gritted teeth. \"In the storming foot! Who gets hit in the foot?\"\n\n\"Kaladin!\" Moash's voice said, urgent. The bridgemen split as Moash brought Teft in, an arrow sprouting from his shoulder between carapace breastplate and arm.\n\n\"Storm it!\" Kaladin said, helping Moash set Teft down. The older bridgeman looked dazed. The arrow had dug deep into the muscle. \"Somebody get pressure on Skar's foot and wrap it until I can look at it. Teft, can you hear me?\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, lad,\" Teft mumbled, eyes glassy. \"I'm...\"\n\n\"You're all right,\" Kaladin said, hurriedly taking some bandages from Lopen, then nodding grimly. Lopen would heat a knife for cauterizing. \"Who else?\"\n\n\"Everyone else is accounted for,\" Drehy said. \"Teft was trying to hide his wound. He must have taken it when we were shoving the bridge across.\"\n\nKaladin pressed gauze against the wound, then gestured for Lopen to hurry with the heated knife. \"I want our scouts watching. Make sure the Parshendi don't try a stunt like they did a few weeks back! If they jump across that plateau to get at Bridge Four, we're dead.\"\n\n\"Is all right,\" Rock said, shading his eyes. \"Sadeas is keeping his men in this area. No Parshendi will get through.\"\n\nThe knife came, and Kaladin held it hesitantly, a curl of smoke rising from its length. Teft had lost too much blood; there was no risking a sewing. But with the twist of the knife, Kaladin risked some bad scarring. That could leave the aging bridgeman with a stiffness that would hurt his ability to wield a spear." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Reluctantly, Kaladin pressed the knife into the wound, the flesh hissing and blood drying to black crisps. Painspren wiggled out of the ground, sinewy and orange. Ina surgery, you could sew. But on the field, this was often the only way.\n\n\"I'm sorry, Teft.\" He shook his head as he continued to work.\n\nMen began to scream. Arrows hit wood and flesh, sounding like distant woodsmen swinging axes.\n\nDalinar waited beside his men, watching Sadeas's soldiers fight. He had better give us an opening, he thought. I'm starting to hunger for this plateau.\n\nFortunately, Sadeas quickly gained his footing on the Tower and sent a flanking force over to carve out a section of land for Dalinar. They didn't get entirely into place before Dalinar started moving.\n\n\"One of you bridges, come with me!\" he bellowed, barreling to the forefront. He was followed by one of the eight bridge teams Sadeas had lent him.\n\nDalinar needed to get onto that plateau. The Parshendi had noticed what was happening and had begun to put pressure on the small company in green and white that Sadeas had sent to defend his entry area. \"Bridge crew, there!\" Dalinar said, pointing.\n\nThe bridgemen hustled into place, looking relieved that they wouldn't be asked to place their bridge under fire of arrows. As soon as they got it into position, Dalinar charged across, the Cobalt Guard following. Just ahead, Sadeas's men broke.\n\nDalinar bellowed, closing his gauntleted hands around Oathbringer's hilt as the sword formed from mist. He crashed into the surging Parshendi line with a wide, two-handed sweep that dropped four men. The Parshendi began to chant in their strange language, singing their war song. Dalinar kicked a corpse aside and began to attack in earnest, frantically defending the foothold Sadeas's men had gained him. Within minutes, his soldiers surged around him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "With the Cobalt Guard watching his back, Dalinar waded into the battle, breaking enemy ranks as only a Shardbearer could. He tore pockets through the Parshendi front lines, like a fish leaping from a stream, cutting back and forth, keeping his enemies disorganized. Corpses with burned eyes and slashed clothing made a trail behind him. More and more Alethi troops filled in the holes. Adolin crashed through a group of Parshendi nearby, his own squad of Cobalt Guardsmen a safe distance behind. He brought his whole army across-he needed to ascend quickly, pinning the Parshendi back so they couldn't escape. Sadeas was to watch the northern and western edges of the Tower.\n\nThe rhythm of the battle sang to Dalinar. The Parshendi chanting, the soldiers grunting and yelling, the Shardblade in his hands and the surging power of the Plate. The Thrill rose within him. Since the nausea didn't strike him, he carefully let the Blackthorn free, and felt the joy of dominating a battlefield and the disappointment at lacking a worthy foe.\n\nWhere were the Parshendi Shardbearers? He had seen that one in battle weeks ago. Why had he not reappeared? Would they commit so many men to the Tower without sending a Shardbearer?\n\nSomething heavy hit his armor, banging off it, causing a small puff of Stormlight to escape between the joints along his upper arm. Dalinar cursed, raising an arm to protect his face while scanning the near distance. There, he thought, picking out a nearby rock formation where a group of Parshendi stood swinging enormous rock slings with two hands. The head-size stones crashed into Parshendi and Alethi alike, though Dalinar was obviously the target." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He growled as another one hit, smashing against his forearm, sending a soft jolt through the Shardplate. The blow was strong enough to send a small array of cracks through his right vambrace.\n\nDalinar growled and threw himself into a Plate-enhanced run. The Thrill surged more strongly through him, and he rammed his shoulder into a group of Parshendi, scattering them, then spun with his Blade and cut down those too slow to get out of his way. He dodged to the side as a hail of stones fell where he'd been standing, then leaped onto a low boulder. He took two steps and jumped for the ledge where the rock-throwers were standing.\n\nHe grabbed its edge with one hand, holding his Blade with the other. The men atop the small ridge stumbled back, but Dalinar heaved himself up just high enough to swing. Oathbringer cut at their legs, and four men tumbled to the ground, feet dead. Dalinar dropped the Blade-it vanished-and used both hands to heave himself onto the ridge.\n\nHe landed in a crouch, Plate clanking. Several of the remaining Parshendi tried to swing their slings, but Dalinar grabbed a pair of head-size stones from a pile-easily palming them in his gauntleted hands-and flung them at the Parshendi. The stones hit with enough force to toss the slingmen off the formation, crushing their chests.\n\nDalinar smiled, then began throwing more stones. As the last Parshendi fell off the ledge, Dalinar spun, summoning Oathbringer and looking over the battlefield. A spear wall of blue and reflective steel struggled against black and red Parshendi. Dalinar's men did well, pressing the Parshendi up to the southeast, where they would be trapped. Adolin led this effort, Shardplate gleaming." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Breathing deeply from the Thrill now, Dalinar held his Shardblade up above his head, reflecting sunlight. Below, his men cheered, sending up calls that rose above the Parshendi war chant. Gloryspren sprouted around him.\n\nStormfather, but it felt good to be winning again. He threw himself off the rock formation, for once not taking the slow and careful way down. He fell amid a group of Parshendi, crashing to the stones, blue Stormlight rising from his armor. He spun, slaying, remembering years spent fighting alongside Gavilar. Winning, conquering.\n\nHe and Gavilar had created something during those years. A solidified, cohesive nation out of something fractured. Like master potters reconstructing a fine ceramic that had been dropped. With a roar, Dalinar cut through the line of Parshendi, to where the Cobalt Guard was fighting to catch up to him. \"We press them!\" he bellowed. \"Pass the word! All companies up the side of the Tower!\"\n\nSoldiers raised spears and runners went to deliver his orders. Dalinar spun and charged into the Parshendi, pushing himself-and his army-forward. To the north, Sadeas's forces were stalled. Well, Dalinar's force would do the work for him. If Dalinar could spear forward here, he could slice the Parshendi in half, then crush the northern side against Sadeas and the southern side against the cliff edge.\n\nHis army surged forward behind him, and the Thrill bubbled within. It was power. Strength greater than Shardplate. Vitality greater than youth. Skill greater than a lifetime of practice. A fever of power. Parshendi after Parshendi fell before his Blade. He couldn't cut their flesh, yet he sheared through their ranks. The momentum of their attacks often carried their corpses stumbling past him even as their eyes burned. The Parshendi started to break, running away or falling back. He grinned behind his near-translucent visor." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This was life. This was control. Gavilar had been the leader, the momentum, and the essence of their conquest. But Dalinar had been the warrior. Their opponents had surrendered to Gavilar's rule, but the Blackthorn-he was the man who had scattered them, the one who had dueled their leaders and slain their best Shardbearers.\n\nDalinar screamed at the Parshendi, and their entire line bent, then shattered. The Alethi surged forward, cheering. Dalinar joined his men, charging at their forefront to rundown the fleeing Parshendi warpairs as they fled to the north or south, trying to join larger groups who held there.\n\nHe reached a pair. One turned to hold him off with a hammer, but Dalinar cut him down in passing, then grabbed the other Parshendi and threw him down with a twist of the arm. Grinning, Dalinar raised his Blade high over his head, looming over the soldier.\n\nThe Parshendi rolled awkwardly, holding his arm, no doubt shattered as he was thrown down. He looked up at Dalinar, terrified, fearspren appearing around him.\n\nHe was only a youth.\n\nDalinar froze, Blade held above his head, muscles taut. Those eyes... that face... Parshendi might not be human, but their features-their expressions-were the same. Save for the marbled skin and the strange growths of carapace armor, this boy could have been a groom in Dalinar's stable. What did he see above him? A faceless monster in impervious armor? What was this youth's story? He would only have been a boy when Gavilar had been assassinated.\n\nDalinar stumbled backward, the Thrill vanishing. One of the Cobalt Guardsmen passed by, casually ramming a sword into the Parshendi boy's neck. Dalinar raised a hand, but it was over too quickly for him to stop. The soldier didn't notice Dalinar's gesture." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Dalinar lowered his hand." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His men were rushing around him, rolling over the fleeing Parshendi. The majority of the Parshendi still fought, resisting Sadeas on one side and Dalinar's force on the other. The eastern plateau edge was just a short distance to Dalinar's right-he had come up against the Parshendi force like a spear, slicing it through the center, splitting it off to the north and south.\n\nAround him lay the dead. Many of them had fallen face-down, taken in the back by spears or arrows from Dalinar's forces. Some Parshendi were still alive, though dying. They hummed or whispered to themselves a strange, haunting song. The one they sang as they waited to die.\n\nTheir whispered songs rose like the curses of spirits on Soul's March. Dalinar had always found the death song the most beautiful of all he had heard from the Parshendi. It seemed to cut through the grunts, clangs, and screams of the nearby battle. As always, each Parshendi's song was in perfect time with that of his fellows. It was as if they could all hear the same melody somewhere faraway, singing along through sputtering, bloodied lips, with rasping breath.\n\nThe Codes, Dalinar thought, turning toward his fighting men. Never ask of your men a sacrifice you wouldn't make yourself. Never make them fight in conditions you would refuse to fight in yourself. Never ask a man to perform an act you wouldn't soil your own hands doing.\n\nHe felt sick. This wasn't beautiful. This wasn't glorious. This wasn't strength, power, or life. This was revolting, repellent, and ghastly.\n\nBut they killed Gavilar! he thought, searching fora way to overcome the sickness he suddenly felt.\n\nUnite them...." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Roshar had been united, once. Had that included the Parshendi?\n\nYou don't know if you can trust the visions or not, he told himself, his honor guard forming up behind him. They could be from the Nightwatcher or the Voidbringers. Or something else entirely.\n\nIn that moment, the objections felt weak. What had the visions wanted him to do? Bring peace to Alethkar, unite his people, act with justice and honor. Could he not judge the visions based on those results?\n\nHe raised his Shardblade to his shoulder, walking solemnly among the fallen toward the northern line, where the Parshendi were trapped between his men and Sadeas's. His sickness grew stronger.\n\nWhat was happening to him?\n\n\"Father!\" Adolin's shout was frantic.\n\nDalinar turned toward his son, who was running to him. The young man's Plate was sprayed with Parshendi blood, but as always his Blade gleamed.\n\n\"What do we do?\" Adolin asked, panting.\n\n\"About what?\" Dalinar asked.\n\nAdolin turned, pointing to the west-toward the plateau south of the one from which Dalinar's army had begun their assault over an hour ago. There, leaping across the wide chasm, was an enormous second army of Parshendi.\n\nDalinar slammed his visor up, fresh air washing across his sweaty face. He stepped forward. He'd anticipated this possibility, but someone should have given warning. Where were the scouts? What was-\n\nHe felt a chill.\n\nShaking, he scrambled toward one of the smooth, bulging formations of rock that were plentiful on the Tower.\n\n\"Father?\" Adolin said, running after him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Dalinar climbed, seeking the top of the formation, dropping his Shardblade." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He crested the rise and stood looking northward over his troops and the Parshendi. Northward, toward Sadeas. Adolin climbed up beside him, gauntleted hand slapping up his visor.\n\n\"Oh no...\" he whispered.\n\nSadeas's army was retreating across the chasm to the northern staging plateau. Half of it was across already. The eight groups of bridgemen he'd lent Dalinar had pulled back and were gone.\n\nSadeas was abandoning Dalinar and his troops, leaving them surrounded on three sides by Parshendi, alone on the Shattered Plains. And he was taking all of his bridges with him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kaladin wearily unwrapped Skar's wound to inspect his stitches and change the bandage. The arrow had hit on the right side of the ankle, deflecting off the knob of the fibula and scraping down through the muscles on the side of the foot.\n\n\"You were very lucky, Skar,\" Kaladin said, putting on the new bandage. \"You'll walk on this again, assuming you do not put weight on it until it's healed. We'll have some of the men carry you back to camp.\"\n\nBehind them, the screaming, pounding, pulsing battle raged on. The fighting was distant now, focused on the eastern edge of the plateau. To Kaladin's right, Teft drank as Lopen poured water into his mouth. The older man scowled, taking the waterskin from Lopen with his good hand. \"I'm not an invalid,\" he snapped. He'd gotten over his initial dizziness, though he was weak.\n\nKaladin sat back, feeling drained. When Stormlight faded away, it left him exhausted. That should pass soon; it had been over an hour since the initial assault. He carried a few more infused spheres in his pouch; he forced himself to resist the urge to suck in their Light.\n\nHe stood up, meaning to gather some men to carry Moash and Teft toward the far side of the plateau, just in case the battle went poorly and they had to retreat. That wasn't likely; the Alethi soldiers had been doing well the last time he'd checked.\n\nHe scanned the battlefield again. What he saw made him freeze.\n\nSadeas was retreating.\n\nAt first, it seemed so impossible that Kaladin couldn't accept it. Was Sadeas bringing his men around to attack in another direction? But no, the rearguard was already across the bridges, and Sadeas's banner was approaching. Was the highprince wounded?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Drehy, Leyten, grab Skar. Rock and Peet, you take Teft. Hustle to the western side of the plateau in preparation to flee. The rest of you, get into bridge positions.\"\n\nThe men, only now noticing what was going on, responded with anxiety.\n\n\"Moash, you're with me,\" Kaladin said, hastening toward their bridge.\n\nMoash hurried up beside Kaladin. \"What's going on?\"\n\n\"Sadeas is pulling out,\" Kaladin said, watching the tide of Sadeas's men in green slide away from the Parshendi lines like wax melting. \"There's no reason to. The battle's barely begun, and his forces were winning. I can only think that Sadeas must have been wounded.\"\n\n\"Why would they withdraw the entire army for that?\" Moash said. \"You don't think he is...\"\n\n\"His banner still flies,\" Kaladin said. \"So he's probably not dead. Unless they left it up to keep the men from panicking.\"\n\nHe and Moash reached the side of the bridge. Behind, the rest of the crew hastened to form a line. Matal was on the other side of the chasm, speaking with the commander of the rearguard. After a quick exchange, Matal crossed and began to rundown the line of bridge crews, calling for them to prepare to carry. He glanced at Kaladin's team, but saw they were already ready, and so hurried on.\n\nTo Kaladin's right, on the adjacent plateau-the one where Dalinar had launched his assault-the eight lent bridge crews pulled away from the battlefield, crossing over to Kaladin's plateau. A lighteyed officer Kaladin didn't recognize was giving them orders. Beyond them, farther to the southwest, anew Parshendi force had arrived, and was pouring onto the Tower." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sadeas rode up to the chasm. The paint on his Shardplate gleamed in the sun; it didn't bear a single scratch. In fact, his entire honor guard was unharmed. Though they had gone over to the Tower, they had disengaged the enemy and comeback. Why?\n\nAnd then Kaladin saw it. Dalinar Kholin's force, fighting on the upper middle slope of the wedge, was now surrounded. This new Parshendi force was flooding into sections that Sadeas had held, supposedly protecting Dalinar's retreat.\n\n\"They're abandoning him!\" Kaladin said. \"This was a trap. A setup. Sadeas is leaving Highprince Kholin-and all of his soldiers-to die.\" Kaladin scrambled around the end of the bridge, pushing through the soldiers who were coming off it. Moash cursed and followed.\n\nKaladin wasn't certain why he elbowed his way up to the next bridge-bridge ten-where Sadeas was crossing. Perhaps he needed to see for certain that Sadeas wasn't wounded. Perhaps he was still stunned. This was treachery on a grand scale, terrible enough that it made Amaram's betrayal of Kaladin seem almost trivial.\n\nSadeas trotted his horse across the bridge, the wood clattering. He was accompanied by two lighteyed men in regular armor, and all three had their helms under their arms, as if they were on parade.\n\nThe honor guard stopped Kaladin, looking hostile. He was still close enough to see that Sadeas was, indeed, completely unharmed. He was also close enough to study Sadeas's proud face as he turned his horse and looked back at the Tower. The second Parshendi army swarmed Kholin's army, trapping them. Even without that, Kholin had no bridges. He could not retreat." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I told you, old friend,\" Sadeas said, voice soft but distinct, overlapping the distant screams. \"I said that honor of yours would get you killed someday.\" He shook his head.\n\nThen he turned his horse, trotting it away from the battlefield.\n\nDalinar cut down a Parshendi warpair. There was always another to replace it. He set his jaw, falling into Windstance and taking the defensive, holding his little rise in the hillside and acting as a rock over which the oncoming Parshendi wave would have to break.\n\nSadeas had planned this retreat well. His men hadn't been having trouble; they'd been ordered to fight in away that they could easily disengage. And he had a full forty bridges to retreat across. Together, that made his abandonment of Dalinar happen quickly, by the scale of battles. Though Dalinar had immediately ordered his men to push forward, hoping to catch Sadeas while the bridges were still set, he hadn't been nearly quick enough. Sadeas's bridges were pulling away, the entirety of his army now across.\n\nAdolin fought nearby. They were two tired men in Plate facing an entire army. Their armor had accumulated a frightening number of cracks. None were critical yet, but they did leak precious Stormlight. Wisps of it rose like the songs of dying Parshendi.\n\n\"I warned you not to trust him!\" Adolin bellowed as he fought, cutting down a pair of Parshendi, then taking a wave of arrows from a team of archers who had setup nearby. The arrows sprayed against Adolin's armor, scratching the paint. One caught in a crack, widening it.\n\n\"I told you,\" Adolin continued to yell, lowering his arm from his face and slicing into the next pair of Parshendi just before they landed their hammers on him. \"I said he was an eel!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I know!\" Dalinar yelled back.\n\n\"We walked right into this,\" Adolin continued, shouting as if he hadn't heard Dalinar. \"We let him takeaway our bridges. We let him get us onto the plateau before the second wave of Parshendi arrived. We let him control the scouts. We even suggested the attack pattern that would leave us surrounded if he didn't support us!\"\n\n\"I know.\" Dalinar's heart twisted inside of him.\n\nSadeas was carrying out a premeditated, carefully planned, and very thorough betrayal. Sadeas hadn't been overwhelmed, hadn't retreated for safety-though that was undoubtedly what he would claim when he got back to camp. A disaster, he'd say. Parshendi everywhere. Attacking together had upset the balance, and-unfortunately-he'd been forced to pullout and leave his friend. Oh, perhaps some of Sadeas's men would talk, tell the truth, and other highprinces would undoubtedly know what really happened. But nobody would challenge Sadeas openly. Not after such a decisive and powerful maneuver.\n\nThe people in the warcamps would go along with it. The other highprinces were too displeased with Dalinar to raise a fuss. The only one who might speak up was Elhokar, and Sadeas had his ear. It wrenched Dalinar's heart. Had it all been an act? Could he really have misjudged Sadeas so completely? What of the investigation clearing Dalinar? What of their plans and reminiscences? All lies?\n\nI saved your life, Sadeas. Dalinar watched Sadeas's banner retreat across the staging plateau. Among that distant group, a rider who wore crimson Shardplate turned and looked back. Sadeas, watching Dalinar fighting for his life. That figure paused fora moment, then turned around and rode on." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Parshendi were surrounding the forward position where Dalinar and Adolin fought just ahead of the army. They were overwhelming his guard. He jumped down and slew another pair of enemies, but earned another blow to his forearm in the process. The Parshendi swarmed around him, and Dalinar's guard began to buckle.\n\n\"Pull away!\" he yelled at Adolin, then began to back toward the army proper.\n\nThe youth cursed, but did as ordered. Dalinar and Adolin retreated back behind the front line of defense. Dalinar pulled off his cracked helm, panting. He'd been fighting nonstop long enough to get winded, despite his Shardplate. He let one of the guardsmen hand him a waterskin, and Adolin did the same. Dalinar squirted the warm water into his mouth and across his face. It had the metallic taste of stormwater.\n\nAdolin lowered his waterskin, swishing the water in his mouth. He met Dalinar's eyes, his face haunted and grim. He knew. Just as Dalinar did. Just as the men likely did. There would be no surviving this battle. The Parshendi left no survivors. Dalinar braced himself, waiting for further accusations from Adolin. The boy had been right all along. And whatever the visions were, they had misled Dalinar in at least one respect. Trusting Sadeas had brought them to doom.\n\nMen died just a short distance away, screaming and cursing. Dalinar longed to fight, but he needed to rest himself. Losing a Shardbearer because of fatigue would not serve his men.\n\n\"Well?\" Dalinar demanded of Adolin. \"Say it. I have led us to destruction.\"\n\n\"I-\"\n\n\"This is my fault,\" Dalinar said. \"I should never have risked our house for those foolish dreams.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No,\" Adolin said. He sounded surprised at himself for saying it. \"No, Father. It's not your fault.\"\n\nDalinar stared at his son. That was not what he'd expected to hear.\n\n\"What would you have done differently?\" Adolin asked. \"Would you stop trying to make something better of Alethkar? Would you become like Sadeas and the others? No. I wouldn't have you become that man, Father, regardless of what it would gain us. I wish to the Heralds that we hadn't let Sadeas trick us into this, but I will not blame you for his deceit.\"\n\nAdolin reached over, gripping Dalinar's Plate-covered arm. \"You are right to follow the Codes. You were right to try to unite Alethkar. And I was a fool for fighting you on it every step along the path. Perhaps if I hadn't spent so much time distracting you, we would have seen this day coming.\"\n\nDalinar blinked, dumbfounded. This was Adolin speaking those words? What had changed in the boy? And why did he speak these words now, at the dawn of Dalinar's greatest failure?\n\nAnd yet, as the words hung in the air, Dalinar felt his guilt evaporating, blown away by the screams of the dying. It was a selfish emotion.\n\nWould he have had himself change? Yes, he could have been more cautious. He could have been warier of Sadeas. But would he have given upon the Codes? Would he have become the same pitiless killer he'd been as a youth?\n\nNo.\n\nDid it matter that the visions had been wrong about Sadeas? Was he ashamed of the man that they, and the readings from the book, had made him become? The final piece fell into place inside of him, the final cornerstone, and he found that he was no longer worried. The confusion was gone. He knew what to do, at long last. No more questions. No more uncertainty." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He reached up, gripping Adolin's arm. \"Thank you.\"\n\nAdolin nodded curtly. He was still angry, Dalinar could see, but he chose to follow Dalinar-and part of following a leader was supporting him even when the battle turned against him.\n\nThen they released one another and Dalinar turned to the soldiers around them. \"It is time for us to fight,\" he said, voice growing louder. \"And we do so not because we seek the glory of men, but because the other options are worse. We follow the Codes not because they bring gain, but because we loathe the people we would otherwise become. We stand hereon this battlefield alone because of who we are.\"\n\nThe members of the Cobalt Guard standing in a ring began to turn, one at a time, looking toward him. Beyond them, reserve soldiers-lighteyed and dark-gathered closer, eyes terrified, but faces resolute.\n\n\"Death is the end of all men!\" Dalinar bellowed. \" What is the measure of him once he is gone? The wealth he accumulated and left for his heirs to squabble over? The glory he obtained, only to be passed onto those who slew him? The lofty positions he held through happenstance?\n\n\"No. We fight here because we understand. The end is the same. It is the path that separates men. When we taste that end, we will do so with our heads held high, eyes to the sun.\"\n\nHe held out a hand, summoning Oathbringer. \"I am not ashamed of what I have become,\" he shouted, and found it to be true. It felt so strange to be free of guilt. \"Other men may debase themselves to destroy me. Let them have their glory. For I will retain mine!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Shardblade formed, dropping into his hand.\n\nThe men did not cheer, but they did stand taller, straight-backed. A little of the terror retreated. Adolin shoved his helm on, his own Blade appearing in his hand, coated in condensation. He nodded.\n\nTogether they charged back into the battle.\n\nAnd so I die, Dalinar thought, crashing into the Parshendi ranks. There he found peace. An unexpected emotion on the field of battle, but all the more welcome for that.\n\nHe did, however, discover one regret: He was leaving poor Renarin as Kholin highprince, in over his head and surrounded by enemies grown fat on the flesh of his father and brother.\n\nI never did deliver that Shardplate I promised him, Dalinar thought. He will have to make his way without it. Honor of our ancestors protect you, son.\n\nStay strong-and learn wisdom more quickly than your father did.\n\nFarewell." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Bridge Four lagged behind the rest of the army. With two wounded and four men needed to carry them, the bridge weighed them down. Fortunately, Sadeas had brought nearly every bridge crew on this run, including eight to lend to Dalinar. That meant the army didn't need to wait for Kaladin's team in order to cross.\n\nExhaustion saturated Kaladin, and the bridge on his shoulders seemed made of stone. He hadn't felt so tired since his first days as a bridgeman. Syl hovered in front of him, watching with concern as he marched at the head of his men, sweat drenching the sides of his face, struggling over the uneven ground of the plateau.\n\nAhead, the last of Sadeas's army was bunched along the chasm, crossing. The staging plateau was nearly empty. The sheer awful audacity of what Sadeas had done twisted at Kaladin's insides. He thought what had been done to him had been horrible. But here, Sadeas callously condemned thousands of men, lighteyed and dark. Supposed allies. That betrayal seemed to weigh as heavy on Kaladin as the bridge itself. It pressed on him, made him gasp for breath.\n\nWas there no hope for men? They killed those they should have loved. What good was it to fight, what good was it to win, if there was no difference between ally and enemy? What was victory? Meaningless. What did the deaths of Kaladin's friends and colleagues mean? Nothing. The entire world was a pustule, sickeningly green and infested with corruption.\n\nNumb, Kaladin and the others reached the chasm, though they were too late to help with the transfer. The men he'd sent ahead were there, Teft looking grim, Skar leaning on a spear to support his wounded leg. A small group of dead spearmen lay nearby. Sadeas's soldiers retrieved their wounded, when possible, but some died as they were helped along. They'd abandoned some of those here; Sadeas was obviously in a hurry to leave the scene." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The dead had been left with their equipment. Skar had probably gotten his crutch there. Some poor bridge crew would have to cross all the way back here at a later date to salvage from these, and from Dalinar's fallen.\n\nThey set their bridge down, and Kaladin wiped his brow. \"Don't place the bridge across the chasm,\" he told the men. \"We'll wait until the last of the soldiers have crossed, then carry it over on one of the other bridges.\" Matal eyed Kaladin and his team, but didn't order them to set their bridge. He realized that by the time they got it into position, they'd have to pull it up again.\n\n\"Isn't that a sight?\" Moash said, stepping up beside Kaladin, looking back.\n\nKaladin turned. The Tower rose behind them, sloped in their direction. Kholin's army was a circle of blue, trapped in the middle of the slope after trying to push down and get to Sadeas before he left. The Parshendi were a dark swarm with specks of red from their marbled skins. They pressed at the Alethi ring, compressing it.\n\n\"Such a shame,\" Drehy said from beside their bridge, sitting on its lip. \"Makes me sick.\"\n\nOther bridgemen nodded, and Kaladin was surprised to seethe concern in their faces. Rock and Teft joined Kaladin and Moash, all wearing their Parshendi-carapace armor. He was glad they'd left Shen back in the camp. He'd have been catatonic at the sight of it all.\n\nTeft cradled his wounded arm. Rock raised a hand to shade his eyes and shook his head, looking eastward. \"Is a shame. A shame to Sadeas. A shame to us.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Bridge Four,\" Matal called." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Come on!\"\n\nMatal was waving for them to cross Bridge Six's bridge and leave the staging plateau. An idea came to Kaladin suddenly. A fantastic idea, like a blooming rockbud in his mind.\n\n\"We'll follow with our own bridge, Matal,\" Kaladin called. \"We only just got to the chasm. We need to sit fora few minutes.\"\n\n\"Cross now!\" Matal yelled.\n\n\"We'll just fall further behind!\" Kaladin retorted. \"You want to explain to Sadeas why he has to hold the entire army for one miserable bridge crew? We've got our bridge. Let my men rest. We'll catch up to you later.\"\n\n\"And if those savages come after you?\" Matal demanded.\n\nKaladin shrugged.\n\nMatal blinked, then seemed to realize how badly he wanted that to happen. \"Suit yourself,\" he called, rushing across bridge six as the other bridges were pulled up. In seconds, Kaladin's team was alone beside the chasm, the army retreating westward.\n\nKaladin smiled broadly. \"I can't believe it, after all that worrying... Men, we're free!\"\n\nThe others turned to him, confused.\n\n\"We'll follow in a short while,\" Kaladin said eagerly, \"and Matal will assume we're coming. We fall farther and farther behind the army, until we're out of sight. Then we'll turn north, use the bridge to cross the Plains. We can escape northward, and everyone will just assume the Parshendi caught us and slaughtered us!\"\n\nThe other bridgemen regarded him with wide eyes.\n\n\"Supplies,\" Teft said.\n\n\"We have these spheres,\" Kaladin said, pulling out his pouch. \"A wealth of them, right here. We can take the armor and weapons from the dead over there and use those to defend ourselves from bandits. It will be hard, but we won't be chased!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The men were starting to grow excited. However, something gave Kaladin pause. What of the wounded bridgemen back in the camp?\n\n\"I'll have to stay behind,\" Kaladin said.\n\n\"What?\" Moash demanded.\n\n\"Someone will need to,\" Kaladin said. \"For the good of our wounded in camp. We can't abandon them. And if I stay behind, I can support the story. Wound me and leave me on one of the plateaus. Sadeas is sure to send scavengers back. I'll tell them my crew was hunted down in retribution for desecrating the Parshendi corpses, our bridge tossed into the chasm. They'll believe it; they've seen how the Parshendi hate us.\"\n\nThe crew was all standing now, shooting glances atone another. Uncomfortable glances.\n\n\"We're not leaving without you,\" Sigzil said. Many of the others nodded.\n\n\"I'll follow,\" Kaladin said. \"We can't leave those men behind.\"\n\n\"Kaladin, lad-\" Teft began.\n\n\"We can talk about me later,\" Kaladin interrupted. \"Maybe I'll go with you, then sneak back into camp later to rescue the wounded. For now, go salvage from those bodies.\"\n\nThey hesitated.\n\n\"It's an order, men!\"\n\nThey moved, offering no further complaint, rushing to pilfer from the corpses Sadeas had abandoned. That left Kaladin alone beside the bridge.\n\nHe was still unsettled. It wasn't just the wounded back in camp. What was it, then? This was a fantastic opportunity. The type he'd have practically killed to get during his years as a slave. The chance to vanish, presumed dead? The bridgemen wouldn't have to fight. They were free. Why, then, was he so anxious?" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Carry on with the plot as the author's writing partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, knights radiant\nAuthor: Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: The Way of Kings\nChapter: 86" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The men were starting to grow excited. However, something gave Kaladin pause. What of the wounded bridgemen back in the camp?\n\n\"I'll have to stay behind,\" Kaladin said.\n\n\"What?\" Moash demanded.\n\n\"Someone will need to,\" Kaladin said. \"For the good of our wounded in camp. We can't abandon them. And if I stay behind, I can support the story. Wound me and leave me on one of the plateaus. Sadeas is sure to send scavengers back. I'll tell them my crew was hunted down in retribution for desecrating the Parshendi corpses, our bridge tossed into the chasm. They'll believe it; they've seen how the Parshendi hate us.\"\n\nThe crew was all standing now, shooting glances atone another. Uncomfortable glances.\n\n\"We're not leaving without you,\" Sigzil said. Many of the others nodded.\n\n\"I'll follow,\" Kaladin said. \"We can't leave those men behind.\"\n\n\"Kaladin, lad-\" Teft began.\n\n\"We can talk about me later,\" Kaladin interrupted. \"Maybe I'll go with you, then sneak back into camp later to rescue the wounded. For now, go salvage from those bodies.\"\n\nThey hesitated.\n\n\"It's an order, men!\"\n\nThey moved, offering no further complaint, rushing to pilfer from the corpses Sadeas had abandoned. That left Kaladin alone beside the bridge.\n\nHe was still unsettled. It wasn't just the wounded back in camp. What was it, then? This was a fantastic opportunity. The type he'd have practically killed to get during his years as a slave. The chance to vanish, presumed dead? The bridgemen wouldn't have to fight. They were free. Why, then, was he so anxious?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kaladin turned to survey his men, and was shocked to see someone standing beside him. A woman of translucent white light.\n\nIt was Syl, as he'd never seen her before, the size of a regular person, hands clasped in front of her, hair and dress streaming to the side in the wind. He'd had no idea she could make herself so large. She stared eastward, her expression horrified, eyes wide and sorrowful. It was the face of a child watching a brutal murder that stole her innocence.\n\nKaladin turned and slowly looked in the direction she was staring. Toward the Tower.\n\nToward Dalinar Kholin's desperate army.\n\nThe sight of them twisted his heart. They fought so hopelessly. Surrounded. Abandoned. Left alone to die.\n\nWe have abridge, Kaladin realized. If we could get it set... Most of the Parshendi were focused on the Alethi army, with only a token reserve force down at the base near the chasm. It was a small enough group that perhaps the bridgemen could contain them.\n\nBut no. That was idiocy. There were thousands of Parshendi soldiers blocking Kholin's path to the chasm. And how would the bridgemen set their bridge, with no archers to support them?\n\nSeveral of the bridgemen returned from their quick scavenge. Rock joined Kaladin, staring eastward, expression becoming grim. \"This thing is terrible,\" he said. \"Can we not do something to help?\"\n\nKaladin shook his head. \"It would be suicide, Rock. We'd have to run a full assault without an army to support us.\"\n\n\"Couldn't we just go back a little of the way?\" Skar asked. \"Wait to see if Kholin can cut his way down to us? If he does, then we could set our bridge.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"No,\" Kaladin said. \"If we stayed out of range, Kholin would assume us to be scouts left by Sadeas. We'll have to charge the chasm. Otherwise he'd never comedown to meet us.\"\n\nThat made the bridgemen pale.\n\n\"Besides,\" Kaladin added. \"If we did somehow save some of those men, they'd talk, and Sadeas would know we still live. He'd hunt us down and kill us. By going back, we'd throwaway our chance at freedom.\"\n\nThe other bridgemen nodded at that. The rest had gathered, carrying weapons. It was time to go. Kaladin tried to squelch the feeling of despair inside him. This Dalinar Kholin was probably just like the others. Like Roshone, like Sadeas, like any number of other lighteyes. Pretending virtue but corrupted inside.\n\nBut he has thousands of darkeyed soldiers with him, apart of him thought. Men who don't deserve this terrible fate. Men like my old spear crew.\n\n\"We owe them nothing,\" Kaladin whispered. He thought could see Dalinar Kholin's banner, flying blue at the front of his army. \"You got them into this, Kholin. I won't let my men die for you.\" He turned his back on the Tower.\n\nSyl still stood beside him, facing eastward. It made his very soul twist in knots to see that look of despair on her face. \"Are windspren attracted to wind,\" she asked softly, \"or do they make it?\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" Kaladin said. \"Does it matter?\"\n\n\"Perhaps not. You see, I've remembered what kind of spren I am.\"\n\n\"Is this the time for it, Syl?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I bind things, Kaladin,\" she said, turning and meeting his eyes. \"I am honorspren. Spirit of oaths. Of promises. And of nobility.\"\n\nKaladin could faintly hear the sounds of the battle. Or was that just his mind, searching for something he knew to be there?\n\nCould he hear the men dying?\n\nCould he seethe soldiers running away, scattering, leaving their warlord alone?\n\nEveryone else fleeing. Kaladin kneeling over Dallet's body.\n\nA green-and-burgundy banner, flying alone on the field.\n\n\"I've been here before!\" Kaladin bellowed, turning back toward that blue banner.\n\nDalinar always fought at the front.\n\n\"What happened last time?\" Kaladin yelled. \"I've learned! I won't be a fool again!\"\n\nIt seemed to crush him. Sadeas's betrayal, his exhaustion, the deaths of so many. He was there again fora moment, kneeling in Amaram's mobile headquarters, watching the last of his friends being slaughtered, too weak and hurt to save them.\n\nHe raised a trembling hand to his head, feeling the brand there, wet with his sweat. \"I owe you nothing, Kholin.\"\n\nAnd his father's voice seemed to whisper a reply. Somebody has to start, son. Somebody has to step forward and do what is right, because it is right. If nobody starts, then others cannot follow.\n\nDalinar had come to help Kaladin's men, attacking those archers and saving Bridge Four.\n\nThe lighteyes don't care about life, Lirin had said. So I must. So we must.\n\nSo you must....\n\nLife before death." }, { "from": "human", "value": "I've failed so often." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I've been knocked to the ground and trod upon.\n\nStrength before weakness.\n\nThis would be death I'd lead my friends to...\n\nJourney before destination. ... death, and what is right.\n\n\"We have to go back,\" Kaladin said softly. \"Storm it, we have to go back.\"\n\nHe turned to the members of Bridge Four. One by one, they nodded. Men who had been the dregs of the army just months before-men who had once cared for nothing but their own skins-took deep breaths, tossed away thoughts for their own safety, and nodded. They would follow him.\n\nKaladin looked up and sucked in a deep breath. Stormlight rushed into him like a wave, as if he'd put his lips up to a highstorm and drawn it into himself.\n\n\"Bridge up!\" he commanded.\n\nThe members of Bridge Four cheered their agreement, grabbing their bridge and hoisting it high. Kaladin pulled on a shield, grabbing the straps in his hand.\n\nThen he turned, raising it high. With a shout, he led his men in a charge back toward that abandoned blue banner.\n\nDalinar's Plate leaked Stormlight from dozens of small breaks; no major piece had escaped. Light rose above him like steam from a cauldron, lingering as Stormlight did, slowly diffusing.\n\nThe sun beat down upon him, baking him as he fought. He was so tired. It hadn't been long since Sadeas's betrayal, not as time was counted in battles. But Dalinar had pushed himself hard, staying at the very front, fighting side by side with Adolin. His Plate had lost much Stormlight. It was growing heavier, and lent him less power with each swing. Soon it would weigh him down, slowing him so the Parshendi could swarm over him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He'd killed many of them. So many. A frightening number, and he did it without the Thrill. He was hollow inside. Better that than pleasure.\n\nHe hadn't killed nearly enough of them. They focused on Dalinar and Adolin; with Shardbearers on the front line, any breach would soon be patched by a man in gleaming armor and a deadly Blade. The Parshendi had to bring him and Adolin down first. They knew it. Dalinar knew it. Adolin knew it.\n\nStories spoke of battlefields where the Shardbearers were the last ones standing, pulled down by their enemies after long, heroic fights. Completely unrealistic. If you killed the Shardbearers first, you could take their Blades and turn them against the enemy.\n\nHe swung again, muscles lagging with fatigue. Dying first. It was a good place to be. Ask nothing of them you wouldn't do yourself.... Dalinar stumbled on the rocks, his Shardplate feeling as heavy as regular armor.\n\nHe could be satisfied with the way he'd handled his own life. But his men... he had failed them. Thinking of the way he had stupidly led then into a trap, that sickened him.\n\nAnd then there was Navani.\n\nOf all the times to finally begin courting her, Dalinar thought. Six years wasted. A lifetime wasted. And now she'll have to grieve again.\n\nThat thought made him raise his arms and steady his feet on the stone. He fought off the Parshendi. Struggling on. For her. He would not let himself fall while he still had strength.\n\nNearby, Adolin's armor leaked as well. The youth was extending himself more and more to protect his father. There had been no discussion of trying, perhaps, to leap the chasms and flee. With chasms so wide, the chances were slim-but beyond that, they would not abandon their men to die. He and Adolin had lived by the Codes. They would die by the Codes." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dalinar swung again, staying at Adolin's side, fighting in that just-out-of-reach tandem way of two Shardbearers. Sweat streamed down his face inside his helm, and he shot a final glance toward the disappearing army. It was just barely visible on the horizon. Dalinar's current position gave him a good view down to the west.\n\nLet that man be cursed for...\n\nFor...\n\nBlood of my fathers, what is that?\n\nA small force was moving across the western plateau, running toward the Tower. A solitary bridge crew, carrying their bridge.\n\n\"It can't be,\" Dalinar said, stepping back from the fighting, letting the Cobalt Guard-what was left of them-rush into defend him. Distrusting his eyes, he pushed his visor up. The rest of Sadeas's army was gone, but this single bridge crew remained. Why?\n\n\"Adolin!\" he bellowed, pointing with his Shardblade, a surge of hope flooding his limbs.\n\nThe young man turned, tracing Dalinar's gesture. Adolin froze. \"Impossible!\" he yelled. \"What kind of trap is that?\"\n\n\"A foolish one, if it is a trap. We are already dead.\"\n\n\"But why would he send one back? What purpose?\"\n\n\"Does it matter?\"\n\nThey hesitated fora moment amid the battle. Both knew the answer.\n\n\"Assault formations!\" Dalinar yelled, turning back to his troops. Stormfather, there were so few of them left. Less than half of his original eight thousand.\n\n\"Form up,\" Adolin called. \"Get ready to move! We're going to punch through them, men. Gather everything you've got. We've got one chance!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A slim one, Dalinar thought, pulling his visor down. We'll have to cut through the rest of the Parshendi army. Even if they reached the bottom, they'd probably find the crew dead, their bridge cast into the chasm. The Parshendi archers were already forming up; there were more than a hundred of them. It would be a slaughter.\n\nBut it was a hope. A tiny, precious hope. If his army was going to fall, it would do so while trying to seize that hope.\n\nRaising his Shardblade high, feeling a surge of strength and determination, Dalinar charged forward at the head of his men.\n\nFor the second time in one day, Kaladin ran toward an armed Parshendi position, shield before him, wearing armor cut from the corpse of a fallen enemy. Perhaps he should have felt revolted at what he'd done in creating his armor. But it was no worse than what the Parshendi had done in killing Dunny, Maps, and that nameless man who had shown Kaladin kindness on his first day as a bridgemen. Kaladin still wore that man's sandals.\n\nUs and them, he thought. That was the only way a soldier could think of it. For today, Dalinar Kholin and his men were part of the'us.\"\n\nA group of Parshendi had seen the bridgemen approaching and was setting up with bows. Fortunately, it appeared that Dalinar had seen Kaladin's band as well, for the army in blue was beginning to cut its way toward rescue.\n\nIt wasn't going to work. There were too many Parshendi, and Dalinar's men would be tired. It was another disaster. But for once, Kaladin charged into it with eyes wide open." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This is my choice, he thought as the Parshendi archers formed up. It's not some angry god watching me, not some spren playing tricks, not some twist of fate.\n\nIt's me. I chose to follow Tien. I chose to charge the Shardbearer and save Amaram. I chose to escape the slave pits. And now, I choose to try to rescue these men, though I know I will probably fail.\n\nThe Parshendi loosed their arrows, and Kaladin felt an exaltation. Tiredness evaporated, fatigue fled. He wasn't fighting for Sadeas. He wasn't working to line someone's pockets. He was fighting to protect.\n\nThe arrows zipped at him and he swung his shield in an arc, spraying them away. Others came, shooting this way and that, seeking his flesh. He stayed just ahead of them, leaping as they shot for his thighs, turning as they shot for his shoulders, raising his shield when they shot for his face. It wasn't easy, and more than a few arrows got close to him, scoring his breastplate or shin guards. But none hit. He was doing it. He was-\n\nSomething was wrong.\n\nHe spun between two arrows, confused.\n\n\"Kaladin!\" Syl said, hovering nearby, back to her smaller form. \"There!\"\n\nShe pointed toward the other staging plateau, the one nearby that Dalinar had used for his assault. A large contingent of Parshendi had jumped across to that plateau and were kneeling down, raising bows. Pointed not at him, but right at Bridge Four's unshielded flank.\n\n\"No!\" Kaladin screamed, Stormlight escaping from his mouth in a cloud. He turned and ran back across the rocky plateau toward the bridge crew. Arrows launched at him from behind. One took his backplate square on, but skidded aside. Another hit his helm. He leaped over a rocky rift, dashing with all the speed his Stormlight could lend him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Parshendi at the side were drawing. There were at least fifty of them. He was going to be too late. He was going to-\n\n\"Bridge Four!\" he bellowed. \"Side carry right!\"\n\nThey hadn't practiced that maneuver in weeks, but their training was manifest as they obeyed without question, dropping the bridge to their side just as the archers loosed. The flight of arrows hit the bridge's deck, bristling across the wood. Kaladin let out a relieved breath, reaching the bridge team, who had slowed to carry the bridge on the side.\n\n\"Kaladin!\" Rock said, pointing.\n\nKaladin spun. The archers behind, on the Tower, were drawing fora large volley.\n\nThe bridge crew was exposed. The archers loosed.\n\nHe yelled again, screaming out, Stormlight infusing the air around him as he threw every bit of it he had into his shield. The scream echoed in his ears; the Stormlight burst from him, his clothing freezing and cracking.\n\nArrows darkened the sky. Something hit him, an extended impact that tossed him backward into the bridgemen. He struck hard, grunting as the force continued to push upon him.\n\nThe bridge ground to a halt, the men stopping.\n\nAll fell still.\n\nKaladin blinked, feeling completely drained. His body hurt, his arms tingled, his back ached. There was a sharp pain in his wrist. He groaned, opening his eyes, stumbling as Rock's hands caught him from behind.\n\nA muted thump. The bridge being set down. Idiots! Kaladin thought. Don't set it down.... Retreat....\n\nThe bridgemen crowded around him as he slipped to the ground, overwhelmed by having expended too much Stormlight. He blinked at what he held before him, attached to his bleeding arm." }, { "from": "human", "value": "His shield was covered in arrows, dozens of them, some splitting the others." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The bones crossing the shield's front had shattered; the wood was in splinters. Some of the arrows had gone through and hit his forearm. That was the pain.\n\nOver a hundred arrows. An entire volley. Pulled into a single shield.\n\n\"By the Brightcaller's rays,\" Drehy said softly. \"What... what was...\"\n\n\"It was like a fountain of light,\" Moash said, kneeling beside Kaladin. \"Like the sun itself burst from you, Kaladin.\"\n\n\"The Parshendi...\" Kaladin croaked, and let goof the shield. The straps were broken, and as he struggled to stand, the shield all but disintegrated, falling to pieces, scattering dozens of broken arrows at his feet. A few remained stuck in his arm, but he ignored the pain, looking across at the Parshendi.\n\nThe groups of archers on both plateaus froze in stunned postures. The ones in front began to call to one another in a language Kaladin didn't understand. \"Neshua Kadal!\" They stood up.\n\nAnd then they fled.\n\n\"What?\" Kaladin said.\n\n\"I don't know,\" Teft said, cradling his own wounded arm. \"But we're getting you to safety. Blast this arm. Lopen!\"\n\nThe shorter man brought Dabbid, and they ushered Kaladin away to a more secure location toward the center of the plateau. He held his arm, numb, his exhaustion so deep that he could barely think.\n\n\"Bridge up!\" Moash called. \"We've still got a job to do!\"\n\nThe rest of the bridgemen grimly ran back to their bridge, hoisting it up. On the Tower, Dalinar's force was fighting its way through the Parshendi toward the possible safety of the bridge crew. They must betaking such heavy losses... Kaladin thought numbly." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He stumbled and fell to the ground; Teft and Lopen pulled Kaladin into a sheltered hollow, joining Skar and Dabbid. Skar's foot bandage reddened with seeping blood, the spear he'd been using as a staff resting beside him. Thought I told him... to stay off that foot....\n\n\"We need spheres,\" Teft said. \"Skar?\"\n\n\"He asked for them this morning,\" the lean man said. \"Gave him everything I had. I think most of the men did the same.\"\n\nTeft cursed softly, pulling the remaining arrows from Kaladin's arm, then wrapping it with bandages.\n\n\"Is he going to be all right?\" Skar asked.\n\n\"I don't know,\" Teft said. \"I don't know anything. Kelek! I'm an idiot. Kaladin. Lad, can you hear me?\"\n\n\"It's... just shock...\" Kaladin said.\n\n\"You're looking strange, gancho,\" Lopen said nervously. \"White.\"\n\n\"Your skin is ashen, lad,\" Teft said. \"It looks like you did something to yourself back there. I don't know... I...\" He cursed again, smacking his hand against the stone. \"I should have listened. Idiot!\"\n\nThey'd laid him on his side, and he could barely seethe Tower. New groups of Parshendi-ones who hadn't seen Kaladin's display-were making for the chasm, bearing weapons. Bridge Four arrived and set down their bridge. They unstrapped their shields and hurriedly retrieved spears from the sacks of salvage tied at the bridge's side. Then the men went to their positions pushing at the sides, preparing to slide the bridge across the gap.\n\nThe Parshendi teams didn't have bows. They formed up to wait, weapons out. There were easily three times as many as there were bridgemen, and more were coming." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"We've got to go help,\" Skar said to Lopen and Teft.\n\nThe other two nodded, and all three-two wounded and one missing an arm-climbed to their feet. Kaladin tried to do likewise, but he fell back down, legs too weak to hold him.\n\n\"Stay, lad,\" Teft said, smiling. \"We'll handle it just fine.\" They gathered some spears from a stock Lopen had put in his litter, then hobbled out to join the bridge crew. Even Dabbid joined them. He hadn't spoken since being wounded on that first bridge run, so long ago.\n\nKaladin crawled up to the lip of the depression, watching them. Syl landed on the stone beside him. \"Storming fools,\" Kaladin muttered. \"Shouldn't have followed me. Proud of them anyway.\"\n\n\"Kaladin...\" Syl said.\n\n\"Is there anything you can do?\" He was so storming tired. \"Something to make me stronger?\"\n\nShe shook her head.\n\nA short distance ahead, the bridgemen began to push. The bridge's wood scraped loudly as it crossed the rocks, moving out over the chasm toward the waiting Parshendi. They began singing that harsh battle song, the one they did whenever they saw Kaladin in his armor.\n\nThe Parshendi looked eager, angry, deadly. They wanted blood. They would cut into the bridgemen and rip them apart, then drop the bridge-and their corpses-into the void beneath.\n\nIt's happening again, Kaladin thought, dazed and overwhelmed. He found himself curling up, drained and shaken. I can't get to them. They'll die. Right before me. Tukks. Dead. Nelda. Dead. Goshel. Dead. Dallet. Cenn. Maps. Dunny. Dead. Dead. Dead..." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Tien.\n\nDead.\n\nLying huddled in a hollow in the rock. The sounds of battle ringing in the distance. Death surrounding him.\n\nIna moment, he was there again, on that most horrible of days.\n\nKaladin stumbled through the cursing, screaming, fighting chaos of war, clinging to his spear. He'd dropped his shield. He needed to find a shield somewhere. Shouldn't he have a shield?\n\nIt was his third real battle. He'd been in Amaram's army only a few months, but already Hearthstone seemed a world away. He reached a hollow of rock and crouched down, pushing his back to it, breathing in and out, fingers slick on the spear's shaft. He was shaking.\n\nHe'd never realized how idyllic his life had been. Away from war. Away from death. Away from those screams, the cacophony of metal on metal, metal on wood, metal on flesh. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block it out.\n\nNo, he thought. Open your eyes. Don't let them find you and kill you that easily.\n\nHe forced his eyes open, then turned and peeked out over the battlefield. It was a complete mess. They fought on a large hillside, thousands of men on either side, intermixing and killing. How could anyone keep track of anything in this insanity?\n\nAmaram's army-Kaladin's army-was trying to hold the hilltop. Another army, also Alethi, was trying to take it from them. That was all Kaladin knew. The enemy seemed more numerous than his own army.\n\nHe'll be safe, Kaladin thought. He will be!\n\nBut he had trouble convincing himself. Tien's stint as a messenger boy hadn't lasted long. Recruitment was down, he'd been told, and every hand that could hold a spear was needed. Tien and the other older messenger boys had been organized into several squads of deep reserves." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dalar said those wouldn't ever be used. Probably. Unless the army was in serious danger. Did being surrounded atop a steep hill, their lines in chaos, constitute serious danger?\n\nGet to the top, he thought, looking up the incline. Amaram's banner still flew up there. Their soldiers must beholding. All Kaladin could see was a churning mess of men in orange and the occasional bit of forest green.\n\nKaladin took off at a run up the side of the hill. He didn't turn as men shouted at him, didn't check to see which side they were from. Patches of grass pulled down in front of him. He stumbled over a few corpses, dashed around a couple of scraggly stumpweight trees, and avoided places where men were fighting.\n\nThere, he thought, noting a group of spearmen ahead, standing in a line, watching warily. Green. Amaram's colors. Kaladin scrambled up to them, and the soldiers let him pass.\n\n\"Which squad are you from, soldier?\" said a stocky lighteyed man with the knots of a low captain.\n\n\"Dead, sir,\" Kaladin forced out. \"All dead. We were in Brightlord Tashlin's company, and-\"\n\n\"Bah,\" the man said, turning to a runner. \"Third report we've had that Tashlin is down. Somebody warn Amaram. East side is weakening by degrees.\" He looked to Kaladin. \"You, off to the reserves for reassignment.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" Kaladin said, numb. He glanced down the way he'd come. The incline was littered with corpses, many of them in green. Even as he watched, a group of three stragglers rushing for the top was intercepted and slaughtered." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "None of the men at the top moved to help them. Kaladin could have fallen just as easily, within yards of safety. He knew that it was probably important, strategically, that these soldiers in the line maintain their positions. But it seemed so heartless.\n\nFind Tien, he thought, trotting off toward the reserves field on the north side of the wide hilltop. Here, however, he found only more chaos. Groups of dazed men, bloodied, getting sorted into new squads and sent back out onto the field. Kaladin moved through them, searching for the squad that had been created out of the messenger boys.\n\nHe found Dalar first. The lanky, three-fingered sergeant of the reserves stood beside a tall post bearing a pair of flapping triangular banners. He was assigning newly made squads to fill out losses in the companies fighting below. Kaladin could still hear the yells.\n\n\"You,\" Dalar said, pointing at Kaladin. \"Squad reassignment is in that direction. Get moving!\"\n\n\"I need to find the squad made from messenger boys,\" Kaladin said.\n\n\"Why in Damnation do you want to know that?\"\n\n\"How should I know?\" Kaladin said, shrugging, trying to remain calm. \"I just follow orders.\"\n\nDalar grunted. \"Brightlord Sheler's company. Southeast side. You can-\"\n\nKaladin was already running. This wasn't supposed to happen. Tien was supposed to stay safe. Stormfather. It hadn't even been four months yet!\n\nHe made his way to the southeast side of the hill and searched out a banner flapping a quarter of the way down the incline. The stark black glyphpair read shesh lerel-Sheler's company. Surprised at his own determination, Kaladin brushed past the soldiers guarding the hilltop and found himself on the battlefield again." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Things looked better over here. Sheler's company was holding its ground, although assaulted by a wave of enemies. Kaladin dashed down the incline, skidding in places, sliding on blood. His fear had vanished. It had been replaced by worry for his brother.\n\nHe arrived at the company line just as enemy squads were assaulting. He tried to scramble farther behind the lines to search for Tien, but he was caught in the wave of attacks. He stumbled to the side, joining a squad of spearmen.\n\nThe enemy was on them in a second. Kaladin held his spear in two hands, standing at the edge of the other spearmen and trying not to get in their way. He didn't really know what he was doing. He barely knew enough to use his shieldmate for protection. The exchange happened quickly, and Kaladin made only a single thrust. The enemy was rebuffed, and he managed to avoid taking a wound.\n\nHe stood, panting, gripping his spear.\n\n\"You,\" an authoritative voice said. A man was pointing at Kaladin, knots at his shoulders. The squadleader. \"About time my team got some of those reinforcements. Fora time there, I thought Varth was going to get every man. Where's your shield?\"\n\nKaladin scrambled to grab one off a fallen soldier nearby. Ashe was working, the squadleader swore behind him. \"Damnation. They're coming again. Two prongs this time. We can't hold like this.\"\n\nA man in a green messenger's vest scrambled over a nearby rock formation. \"Hold against the east assault, Mesh!\"\n\n\"What about that wave to the south?\" the squadleader-Mesh-bellowed.\n\n\"It's handled for now. Hold east! Those are your orders!\" The messenger scrambled on, delivering a similar message to the next squad inline. \"Varth. Your squad is to hold east!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kaladin got up with his shield. He needed to go find Tien. He couldn't-\n\nHe stumbled to a stop. There, in the next squad down the line, stood three figures. Younger boys, looking small in their armor and holding their spears uncertainly. One was Tien. His team of reserves had obviously been split apart to fill holes in other squads.\n\n\"Tien!\" Kaladin screamed, falling out of line as the enemy troops came upon them. Why were Tien and the other two positioned in the middle front of the squad formation? They barely knew how to hold a spear!\n\nMesh yelled after Kaladin, but Kaladin ignored him. The enemy was upon them in a moment, and Mesh's squad broke, losing their discipline and turning to a more frenzied, unorganized resistance.\n\nKaladin felt something like a thump against his leg. He stumbled, hitting the ground, and realized with shock that he'd been stabbed with a spear. He felt no pain. Odd.\n\nTien! he thought, forcing himself up. Someone loomed above him, and Kaladin reacted immediately, rolling as a spear came down for his heart. His own spear was back in his hands before he realized he'd grabbed it, and he whipped it upward.\n\nThen he froze. He'd just driven his spear through the enemy soldier's neck. It had happened so quickly. I just killed a man.\n\nHe rolled over, letting the enemy drop to his knees as Kaladin yanked his spear free. Varth's squad was back a little farther. The enemy hit it a little while after attacking where Kaladin had been. Tien and the other two were still in the front.\n\n\"Tien!\" Kaladin yelled.\n\nThe boy looked toward him, eyes opening wide. He actually smiled. Behind him, the rest of the squad pulled back. Leaving the three untrained boys exposed." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And, sensing weakness, the enemy soldiers descended on Tien and the others. There was an armored lighteyes at their front, in gleaming steel. He swung a sword.\n\nKaladin's brother fell just like that. One eyeblink and he was standing there, looking terrified. The next he was on the ground.\n\n\"No!\" Kaladin screamed. He tried to get to his feet, but slipped to his knees. His leg didn't work right.\n\nVarth's squad hurried forward, attacking the enemies-who had been distracted with Tien and the other two. They'd placed the untrained at the front to stop the momentum of the enemy attack.\n\n\"No, no, no!\" Kaladin screamed. He used his spear to hoist himself to his feet, then stumbled forward. It couldn't be what he thought. It couldn't be over that quickly.\n\nIt was a miracle that nobody struck Kaladin down as he stumbled the rest of the distance. He barely thought about it. He just watched where Tien had fallen. There was thunder. No. Hooves. Amaram had arrived with his cavalry, and they were sweeping through the enemy lines.\n\nKaladin didn't care. He finally reached the spot. There, he found three corpses: young, small, lying in a hollow in the stone. Horrified, numb, Kaladin reached out his hand and rolled over the one that was face-down.\n\nTien's dead eyes stared upward.\n\nKaladin continued to kneel beside the body. He should have bound his wound, should have moved back to safety, but he was too numb. He just knelt.\n\n\"About time he rode down here,\" a voice said.\n\nKaladin looked up, noting a group of spearmen gathering nearby, watching the cavalry." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"He wanted them to bunch up against us,\" one the spearmen said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He had knots on the shoulders. Varth, their squadleader. Such keen eyes the man had. Not a brutish lout. Lean, thoughtful.\n\nI should feel anger, Kaladin thought. I should feel... something.\n\nVarth looked down at him, then at the bodies of the three dead messenger boys.\n\n\"You bastard,\" Kaladin hissed. \"You put them in front.\"\n\n\"You work with what you have,\" Varth said, nodding to his team, then pointing at a fortified position. \"If they give me men who can't fight, I'll find another use for them.\" He hesitated as his team marched away. He seemed regretful. \"Gotta do what you canto stay alive, son. Turn a liability into an advantage whenever you can. Remember that, if you live.\"\n\nWith that, he jogged off.\n\nKaladin looked down. Why couldn't I protect him? he thought, looking at Tien, remembering his brother's laugh. His innocence, his smile, his excitement at exploring the hills outside Hearthstone.\n\nPlease. Please let me protect him. Make me strong enough.\n\nHe felt so weak. Blood loss. He found himself slumping to the side, and with tired hands, he tied off his wound. And then, feeling terribly vacant inside, he lay down beside Tien and pulled the body close.\n\n\"Don't worry,\" Kaladin whispered. When had he started to cry? \"I'll bring you home. I'll protect you, Tien. I'll bring you back....\"\n\nHe held the body into the evening, long past the end of the battle, clinging to it as it slowly grew cold.\n\nKaladin blinked. He wasn't in that hollow with Tien. He was on the plateau." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He could hear men dying in the distance.\n\nHe hated thinking of that day. He almost wished he'd never gone looking for Tien. Then he wouldn't have had to watch. Wouldn't have had to kneel there, powerless, as his brother was slaughtered.\n\nIt was happening again. Rock, Moash, Teft. They were all going to die. And here he lay, powerless again. He could barely move. He felt so drained.\n\n\"Kaladin,\" a voice whispered. He blinked. Syl was hovering in front of him. \"Do you know the Words?\"\n\n\"All I wanted to do was protect them,\" he whispered.\n\n\"That's why I've come. The Words, Kaladin.\"\n\n\"They're going to die. I can't save them. I-\"\n\nAmaram slaughtered his men in front of him.\n\nA nameless Shardbearer killed Dallet.\n\nA lighteyes killed Tien.\n\nNo.\n\nKaladin rolled over and forced himself to his feet, wavering on weak legs.\n\nNo!\n\nBridge Four hadn't set its bridge yet. That surprised him. They were still pushing it across the chasm, the Parshendi crowding upon the other side, eager, their song becoming more frantic. His delusions had seemed like hours, but had passed in just a few heartbeats.\n\nNO!\n\nLopen's litter was in front of Kaladin. A spear rested amid the drained water bottles and ragged bandages, steel head reflecting sunlight. It whispered to him. It terrified him, and he loved it.\n\nWhen the time comes, I hope you're ready. Because this lot will need you." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He seized the spear, the first real weapon he had held since his display in the chasm so many weeks ago. Then he started to run. Slowly at first. Picking up speed. Reckless, his body exhausted. But he did not stop. He pushed forward, harder, charging toward the bridge. It was only halfway across the chasm.\n\nSyl shot out in front of him, looking back, worried. \"The Words, Kaladin!\"\n\nRock cried out as Kaladin ran onto the bridge as it was moving. The wood wobbled beneath him. It was out over the chasm, but hadn't reached the other side.\n\n\"Kaladin!\" Teft yelled. \"What are you doing?\"\n\nKaladin screamed, reaching the end of the bridge. Finding a tiny surge of strength somewhere, he raised his spear and threw himself off the end of the wooden platform, launching into the air above the cavernous void.\n\nBridgemen cried out in dismay. Syl zipped about him with worry. Parshendi looked up with amazement as alone bridgeman sailed through the air toward them.\n\nHis drained, worn-out body barely had any strength left. In that moment of crystallized time, he looked down on his enemies. Parshendi with their marbled red and black skin. Soldiers raising finely crafted weapons, as if to cut him from the sky. Strangers, oddities in carapace breastplates and skullcaps. Many of them wearing beards.\n\nBeards woven with glowing gemstones.\n\nKaladin breathed in.\n\nLike the power of salvation itself-like rays of sunlight from the eyes of the Almighty-Stormlight exploded from those gemstones. It streamed through the air, pulled invisible streams, like glowing columns of luminescent smoke. Twisting and turning and spiraling like tiny funnel clouds until they slammed into him." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And the storm came to life again.\n\nKaladin hit the rocky ledge, legs suddenly strong, mind, body, and blood alive with energy. He fell into a crouch, spear under his arm, a small ring of Stormlight expanding from him in a wave, pushed down to the stones by his fall. Stunned, the Parshendi shied away, eyes widening, song faltering.\n\nA trickle of Stormlight closed the wounds on his arm. He smiled, spear held before him. It was as familiar as the body of a lover long lost.\n\nThe Words, a voice said, urgent, as if directly into his mind. In that moment, Kaladin was amazed to realize that he knew them, though they'd never been told to him.\n\n\"I will protect those who cannot protect themselves,\" he whispered.\n\nThe Second Ideal of the Knights Radiant.\n\nA crack shook the air, like an enormous clap of thunder, though the sky was completely clear. Teft stumbled back-having just set the bridge in place-and found himself gaping with the rest of Bridge Four. Kaladin exploded with energy.\n\nA burst of whiteness washed out from him, a wave of white smoke. Stormlight. The force of it slammed into the first rank of Parshendi, tossing them backward, and Teft had to hold his hand up against the vibrancy of the light.\n\n\"Something just changed,\" Moash whispered, hand up. \"Something important.\"\n\nKaladin raised his spear. The powerful light began to subside, retreating. A more subdued glow began to steam off his body. Radiant, like smoke from an ethereal fire.\n\nNearby, some of the Parshendi fled, though others stepped up, raising weapons in challenge. Kaladin spun into them, a living storm of steel, wood, and determination." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Soldiers in blue yelled, screaming war cries to encourage themselves. The sounds were like a roaring avalanche behind Adolin as he swung his Blade in wild swings. There was no room fora proper stance. He had to keep moving, punching through the Parshendi, leading his men toward the western chasm.\n\nHis father's horse and his own were still safe, carrying some wounded through the back ranks. The Shardbearers didn't dare mount, though. In these close quarters, the Ryshadium would be chopped down and their riders dropped.\n\nThis was the type of battlefield maneuver that would have been impossible without Shardbearers. A rush against superior numbers? Made by wounded, exhausted men? They should have been stopped cold and crushed.\n\nBut Shardbearers could not be stopped so easily. Their armor leaking Stormlight, their six-foot Blades flashing in wide swaths, Adolin and Dalinar shattered the Parshendi defenses, creating an opening, a rift. Their men-the best-trained in the Alethi warcamps-knew how to use it. They formed a wedge behind their Shardbearers, prying the Parshendi armies open, using spearman formations to cut through and keep going forward.\n\nAdolin moved at almost a jog. The incline of the hill worked in their favor, giving them better footing, letting them rumble down the slope like charging chulls. The chance to survive when all had been thought lost gave the men a surge of energy for one last dash toward freedom.\n\nThey took enormous casualties. Already, Dalinar's force had lost another thousand of his four, probably more. But it didn't matter. The Parshendi fought to kill, but the Alethi-this time-fought to live." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Living Heralds above, Teft thought, watching Kaladin fight. Just moments ago, the lad had looked near death, skin a dull grey, hands shaking. Now he was a shining whirlwind, a storm wielding a spear. Teft had known many a battlefield, but he had never seen anything remotely like this. Kaladin held the ground before the bridge by himself. White Stormlight streamed from him like a blazing fire. His speed was incredible, nearly inhuman, and his precision-each thrust of the spear hit a neck, side, or other unarmored target of Parshendi flesh.\n\nIt was more than the Stormlight. Teft had only a fragmentary recollection of the things his family had tried to teach him, but those memories all agreed. Stormlight did not grant skill. It could not make a man into something he was not. It enhanced, it strengthened, it invigorated.\n\nIt perfected.\n\nKaladin ducked low, slamming the butt against the leg of a Parshendi, dropping him to the ground, and came up to block an axe swing by catching the haft with that of his spear. He let go with one hand, sweeping the tip of the spear up under the arm of the Parshendi and ramming it into his armpit. As that Parshendi fell, Kaladin pulled his spear free and slammed the end into a Parshendi head that had gotten too close. The butt of the spear shattered with a spray of wood, and the Parshendi's carapace helm exploded.\n\nNo, this wasn't just Stormlight. This was a master of the spear with his capacity enhanced to astonishing levels.\n\nThe bridgemen gathered around Teft, amazed. His wounded arm didn't seem to hurt as much as it should. \"He's like apart of the wind itself,\" Drehy said. \"Pulled down and given life. Not a man at all. A spren.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Sigzil?\" Skar asked, eyes wide. \"You ever seen anything like this?\"\n\nThe dark-skinned man shook his head.\n\n\"Stormfather,\" Peet whispered. \"What... what is he?\"\n\n\"He's our bridgeleader,\" Teft said, snapping out of his reverie. On the other side of the chasm, Kaladin barely dodged a blow from a Parshendi mace. \"And he needs our help! First and second teams, you take the left side. Don't let the Parshendi get around him. Third and fourth teams, you're with me on the right! Rock and Lopen, you be ready to pullback any wounded. The rest of you, wrinkled wall formation. Don't attack, just stay alive and keep them back. And Lopen, toss him a spear that isn't broken!\"\n\nDalinar roared, striking down a group of Parshendi swordsmen. He charged over their bodies, running up a short incline and throwing himself in a leap, dropping several feet into the Parshendi below, sweeping outwith his Blade. His armor was an enormous weight upon his back, but the energy of his struggle kept him going. The Cobalt Guard-the straggling members who were left-roared and leaped off the incline behind him.\n\nThey were doomed. Those bridgemen would be dead by now. But Dalinar blessed them for their sacrifice. It might have been meaningless as an end, but it had changed the journey. This was how his soldiers should fall-not cornered and frightened, but fighting with passion.\n\nHe would not slide quietly into the dark. No indeed. He shouted his defiance again as he smashed into a group of Parshendi, whirling and hauling his Shardblade in a circling sweep. He stumbled through the patch of dead Parshendi, their eyes burning as they fell." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And Dalinar burst out onto open stone.\n\nHe blinked, stunned. We did it, he thought in disbelief. We cut all the way through. Behind him, soldiers roared, their tired voices sounding nearly as amazed as he felt. Just ahead of him, a final group of Parshendi lay between Dalinar and the chasm. But their backs were turned to him. Why were they-\n\nThe bridgemen.\n\nThe bridgemen were fighting. Dalinar gaped, lowering Oathbringer with numb arms. That little force of bridgemen held the bridgehead, fighting desperately against the Parshendi who were trying to force them back.\n\nIt was the most amazing, most glorious thing Dalinar had ever seen.\n\nAdolin let out a whoop, breaking through the Parshendi to Dalinar's left. The younger man's armor was scratched, cracked, and scored, and his helm had shattered, leaving his head dangerously exposed. But his face was exultant.\n\n\"Go, go,\" Dalinar bellowed, pointing. \"Give them support, storm it! If those bridgemen fall, we're all dead!\"\n\nAdolin and the Cobalt Guard dashed forward. Gallant and Sureblood, Adolin's Ryshadium, galloped past, carrying three wounded each. Dalinar hated to have left so many wounded on the slopes, but the Codes were clear. In this case, protecting the men he could save was more important.\n\nDalinar turned to strike at the main body of Parshendi to his left, making certain the corridor remained open for his troops. Many of the soldiers scrambled toward safety, though several squads proved their mettle by forming up at the sides to keep fighting, opening the gap wider. Sweat had soaked through the brow rag attached to Dalinar's helm, and drops of it fell, overwhelming his eyebrows and falling into his left eye. He cursed, reaching to open his visor-then froze." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The enemy troops were parting. There, standing among them, was a seven-foot-tall giant of a Parshendi in gleaming silver Shardplate. It fit as only Plate could, having molded to his large stature. His Shardblade was wicked and barbed, like flames frozen into metal. He raised it to Dalinar in a salute.\n\n\"Now?\" Dalinar bellowed incredulously. \"Now you come?\"\n\nThe Shardbearer stepped forward, steel boots clanking on stone. The other Parshendi backed away.\n\n\"Why not earlier?\" Dalinar demanded, hurriedly setting himself into Windstance, blinking his left eye against the sweat. He stood near the shadow of a large, oblong rock formation shaped like a book on its side. \"Why wait out the entire battle only to attack now? When...\"\n\nWhen Dalinar was about to getaway. Apparently the Parshendi Shardbearer had been willing to let his fellows throw themselves at Dalinar when it seemed obvious he would fall. Perhaps they let the regular soldiers try to win Shards, as was done inhuman armies. Now that Dalinar might escape, the potential loss of a Plate and Blade was too great, and so the Shardbearer had been sent to fight him.\n\nThe Shardbearer stepped up, speaking in the thick Parshendi language. Dalinar didn't understand a word of it. He raised his Blade and fell into stance. The Parshendi said something further, then grunted and stepped forward, swinging.\n\nDalinar cursed to himself, still blinded in his left eye. He dodged back, swinging his Blade and slapping the enemy's weapon. The parry shook Dalinar inside his armor. His muscles responded sluggishly. Stormlight still leaked from cracks in his armor, but it was abating. It wouldn't be much longer before the Plate stopped responding." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Parshendi Shardbearer attacked again. His stance was unfamiliar to Dalinar, but there was something practiced about it. This wasn't a savage playing with a powerful weapon. He was a trained Shardbearer. Dalinar was once again forced to parry, something Windstance wasn't intended do to. His weight-laden muscles were too sluggish to dodge, and his Plate was too cracked to risk letting himself get hit.\n\nThe blow nearly threw him out of stance. He clenched his teeth, throwing weight behind his weapon and intentionally overcorrecting as the Parshendi's next blow came. The Blades met with a furious clang, throwing off a shower of sparks like a bucket of molten metal dashed into the air.\n\nDalinar recovered quickly and threw himself forward, trying to slam his shoulder into his enemy's chest. The Parshendi was still full of power, however, his Plate uncracked. He got out of the way and quite nearly hit Dalinar on the back.\n\nDalinar twisted just in time. Then he turned and leaped onto a small rock formation, then stepped to a higher ledge and managed to reach the top. The Parshendi followed, as Dalinar had hoped. The precarious footing raised the stakes-which was just fine with him. A single blow could ruin Dalinar. That meant taking risks.\n\nAs the Parshendi neared the top of the formation, Dalinar attacked, using the advantage of surer footing and high ground. The Parshendi didn't bother dodging. He took a hit to the helm, which cracked, but gained a chance to swing at Dalinar's legs.\n\nDalinar leaped backward, feeling painfully sluggish. He barely got out of the way, and wasn't able to get in a second strike as the Parshendi climbed atop the formation." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Parshendi man made an aggressive thrust. Setting his jaw, Dalinar raised his forearm to block and stepped into the attack, praying to the Heralds that his forearm plate would deflect the blow. The Parshendi blade connected, shattering the Plate, sending a shock up Dalinar's arm. The gauntlet on his fist suddenly felt like a lead weight, but Dalinar kept moving, swinging his blade for his own attack.\n\nNot at the Parshendi's armor, but at the stone beneath him.\n\nEven as the molten shards of Dalinar's forearm plate sprayed in the air, he sheared through the rock shelf under his opponent's feet. The entire section broke free, sending the Shardbearer tumbling backward toward the ground. He hit with a crash.\n\nDalinar slammed his fist-the one with the broken armguard-into the ground and released the gauntlet. It unlatched and he pulled his hand free into the air, sweat making it feel cold. He left the gauntlet-it wouldn't work properly now that the forearm piece was gone-and roared as he swung his Blade single-handed. He sliced through another chunk of the rock and sent it falling down toward the Shardbearer.\n\nThe Parshendi stumbled to his feet, but the rock smashed down on top of him, sending out a splash of Stormlight and a deep cracking sound. Dalinar climbed down, trying to get to the Parshendi while he was still. Unfortunately, Dalinar's right leg was dragging, and when he reached the ground, he walked in a limp. If he took the boot off, he wouldn't be able to holdup the rest of the Shardplate.\n\nHe gritted his teeth, stopping as the Parshendi stood up. He'd been too slow. The Parshendi's armor, though cracked in several places, was nowhere near as strained as Dalinar's. Impressively, he'd managed to retain his Shardblade. He leveled his armored head at Dalinar, eyes hidden behind the slit in the helm. Around them, the other Parshendi watched silently, forming a ring, but not interfering." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dalinar raised his Blade, holding it in one gauntleted hand and one bare one. The breeze was cold on his clammy, exposed hand.\n\nThere was no use running. He fought here.\n\nFor the first time in many, many months, Kaladin felt fully awake and alive.\n\nThe beauty of the spear, whistling in the air. The unity of body and mind, hands and feet reacting instantly, faster than thoughts could be formed. The clarity and familiarity of the old spear forms, learned during the most terrible time in his life.\n\nHis weapon was an extension of himself; he moved it as easily and instinctively as he did his fingers. Spinning, he cut through the Parshendi, bringing retribution to those who had slaughtered so many of his friends. Repayment for each and every arrow loosed at his flesh.\n\nWith Stormlight making an ecstatic pulse within him, he felt a rhythm to the battle. Almost like the beat of the Parshendi song.\n\nAnd they did sing. They'd recovered from seeing him drink in the Stormlight and speak the Words of the Second Ideal. They now attacked in waves, fervently trying to get to the bridge and knock it free. Some had leaped to the other side to attack from that direction, but Moash had led bridgemen to respond there. Amazingly, they held.\n\nSyl twirled around Kaladin in a blur, riding the waves of Stormlight that rose from his skin, moving like a leaf on the winds of a storm. Enraptured. He'd never seen her like this before.\n\nHe didn't break his attacks-in away, there was only one attack, as each strike flowed directly into the next. His spear never stopped, and together with his men, he pushed the Parshendi back, accepting each challenge as they stepped forward in pairs." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Killing." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Slaughtering. Blood flew in the air and the dying groaned at his feet. He tried not to pay too much attention to that. They were the enemy. Yet the sheer glory of what he did seemed at odds with the desolation he caused.\n\nHe was protecting. He was saving. Yet he was killing. How could something so terrible be so beautiful at the same time?\n\nHe ducked the swing of a fine silvery sword, then brought his spear around to the side, crushing ribs. He spun the spear, shattering its already fractured length against the side of the Parshendi's comrade. He threw the remains at a third man, then caught anew spear as Lopen tossed it to him. The Herdazian was collecting them from the fallen Alethi nearby to give to Kaladin when needed.\n\nWhen you engaged a man, you learned something about him. Were your enemies careful and precise? Did they bully their way forward, aggressive and domineering? Did they spout curses to make you enraged? Were they ruthless, or did they leave an obviously incapacitated man to live?\n\nHe was impressed by the Parshendi. He fought dozens of them, each with a slightly different style of combat. It seemed they were sending only two or four at him at a time. Their attacks were careful and controlled, and each pair fought as a team. They seemed to respect him for his skill.\n\nMost telling, they seemed to back away from fighting Skar or Teft, who were wounded, instead focusing on Kaladin, Moash, and the other spearmen who showed the most skill. These were not the wild, uncultured savages he had been led to expect. These were professional soldiers who held to an honorable battlefield ethic he had found absent inmost of the Alethi. In them, he found what he'd always hoped he would find in the soldiers of the Shattered Plains." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That realization rocked him. He found himself respecting the Parshendi as he killed them.\n\nIn the end, the storm within drove him forward. He had chosen a course, and these Parshendi would slaughter Dalinar Kholin's army without a moment's regret. Kaladin had committed himself. He would see himself and his men through it.\n\nHe wasn't certain how long he fought. Bridge Four held out remarkably well. Surely they didn't fight for very long, otherwise they would have been overwhelmed. Yet the multitude of wounded and dying Parshendi around Kaladin seemed to indicate hours.\n\nHe was both relieved and oddly disappointed when a figure in Plate broke through the Parshendi ranks, releasing a flood of soldiers in blue. Kaladin reluctantly stepped back, heart thumping, the storm within dampened. The light had stopped streaming off his skin noticeably. The continual supply of Parshendi with gems in their braids had kept him fueled during the early part of the fight, but the later ones had come to him without gemstones. Another indication that they weren't the simpleminded subhumans the lighteyes claimed they were. They'd seen what he was doing, and even if they hadn't understood it, they'd countered it.\n\nHe had enough Light to keep him from collapsing. But as the Alethi pushed back the Parshendi, Kaladin realized how timely their arrival had been.\n\nI need to be very careful with this, he thought. The storm within made him thirst for motion and attack, but using it drained his body. The more of it he used, and the faster he used it, the worse it was when he ran out.\n\nAlethi soldiers took up perimeter defense on both sides of the bridge, and the exhausted bridgemen fell back, many sitting down and holding wounds. Kaladin hurried over to them. \"Report!\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Three dead,\" Rock said grimly, kneeling beside bodies he'd laid out." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Malop, Earless Jaks, and Narm.\n\nKaladin frowned in sorrow. Be glad the rest live, he told himself. It was easy to think. Hard to accept. \"How are the rest of you?\"\n\nFive more had serious wounds, but Rock and Lopen had seen to them. Those two were learning quite well from Kaladin's instruction. There was little more Kaladin could do for the wounded. He glanced at Malop's body. The man had taken an axe cut to the arm, severing it and splintering the bone. He'd died from blood loss. If Kaladin hadn't been fighting, he might have been able to-\n\nNo. No regrets for the moment.\n\n\"Pullback across,\" he said to the bridgemen, pointing. \"Teft, you're in command. Moash, you strong enough to stay with me?\"\n\n\"Sure am,\" Moash said, a grin on his bloody face. He looked excited, not exhausted. All three of the dead had been on his side, but he and the others had fought remarkably well.\n\nThe other bridgemen retreated. Kaladin turned to inspect the Alethi soldiers. It was like looking into a triage tent. Every man had a wound of some sort. The ones at the center stumbled and limped. Those at the outsides still fought, their uniforms bloodied and torn. The retreat had dissolved into chaos.\n\nHe made his way through the wounded, waving for them to cross the bridge. Some did as he said. Others stood about, looking dazed. Kaladin rushed up to one group that seemed better off than most. \"Who's in command here?\"\n\n\"It...\" The soldier's face had been cut across the cheek. \"Brightlord Dalinar.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Immediate command." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Who's your captain?\"\n\n\"Dead,\" the man said. \"And my companylord. And his second.\"\n\nStormfather, Kaladin thought. \"Across the bridge with you,\" he said, then moved on. \"I need an officer! Who's in command of the retreat?\"\n\nAhead, he could make out a figure in scratched blue Shardplate, fighting at the front of group. That would be Dalinar's son Adolin. He was busy holding the Parshendi off; bothering him would not be wise.\n\n\"Over here,\" a man called. \"I've found Brightlord Havar! He's commander of the rearguard!\"\n\nFinally, Kaladin thought, rushing through the chaos to find a bearded lighteyed man lying on the ground, coughing blood. Kaladin looked him over, noting the enormous gut wound. \"Who's his second?\"\n\n\"Dead,\" said the man beside the commander. He was lighteyed.\n\n\"And you are?\" Kaladin asked.\n\n\"Nacomb Gaval.\" He looked young, younger than Kaladin.\n\n\"You're promoted,\" Kaladin said. \"Get these men across the bridge as quickly as possible. If anyone asks, you've been given afield commission as commander of the rearguard. If anyone claims to outrank you, send them tome.\"\n\nThe man started. \"Promoted... Who are you? Can you do that?\"\n\n\"Someone needs to,\" Kaladin snapped. \"Go. Get to work.\"\n\n\"I-\"\n\n\"Go!\" Kaladin bellowed.\n\nRemarkably, the lighteyed man saluted him and began yelling for his squad. Kholin's men were wounded, battered, and dazed, but they were well trained. Once someone took command, orders passed quickly. Squads crossed the bridge, falling into marching formations. Likely, in the confusion, they clung to these familiar patterns." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Within minutes, the central mass of Kholin's army was flowing across the bridge like sand in an hourglass." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The ring of fighting contracted. Still, men screamed and died in the anarchic tumult of sword against shield and spear against metal.\n\nKaladin hurriedly pulled the carapace off his armor-enraging the Parshendi didn't feel wise at the moment-then moved among the wounded, looking for more officers. He found a couple, though they were dazed, wounded, and out of breath. Apparently, those who were still battleworthy were leading the two flanks who held back the Parshendi.\n\nTrailed by Moash, Kaladin hurried to the central front line, where the Alethi seemed to beholding the best. Here, finally, he found someone in command: a tall, stately lighteyes with a steel breastplate and matching helm, his uniform a darker shade of blue than the others. He directed the fighting from just behind the front lines.\n\nThe man nodded to Kaladin, yelling to be heard over the sounds of battle. \"You command the bridgemen?\"\n\n\"I do,\" Kaladin said. \"Why aren't your men moving across the bridge?\"\n\n\"We are the Cobalt Guard,\" the man said. \"Our duty is to protect Brightlord Adolin.\" The man pointed toward Adolin in his blue Shardplate just ahead. The Shardbearer seemed to be pushing toward something.\n\n\"Where's the highprince?\" Kaladin yelled.\n\n\"We're not sure.\" The man grimaced. \"His guardsmen have vanished.\"\n\n\"You have to pullback. The bulk of the army is across. If you remain here, you'll be surrounded!\"\n\n\"We will not leave Brightlord Adolin. I'm sorry.\"\n\nKaladin looked around. The groups of Alethi fighting at the flanks were barely holding their ground, but they wouldn't fallback until ordered." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Fine,\" Kaladin said, raising his spear and pushing his way through to the front line. Here, the Parshendi fought with vigor. Kaladin cut down one by the neck, spinning into the middle of a group, flashing outwith his spear. His Stormlight was nearly gone, but these Parshendi had gemstones in their beards. Kaladin breathed in-just a little, so as to not reveal himself to the Alethi soldiers-and launched into a full attack.\n\nThe Parshendi fell back before his furious assault, and the few members of the Cobalt Guard around him stumbled away, looking stunned. In seconds, Kaladin had a dozen Parshendi on the ground around him, wounded or dead. That opened a gap, and he tore through, Moash on his heels.\n\nA lot of the Parshendi were focused on Adolin, whose blue Shardplate was scraped and cracked. Kaladin had never seen a suit of Shardplate in such a terrible state. Stormlight rose from those cracks in much the way it steamed from Kaladin's skin when he held-or used-a lot of it.\n\nThe fury of a Shardbearer at war gave Kaladin pause. He and Moash stopped just outside of the man's fighting range, and the Parshendi ignored the bridgemen, trying with obvious desperation to take down the Shardbearer. Adolin cut down through multiple men at once-but, as Kaladin had seen only once before, his Blade did not slice flesh. Parshendi eyes burned and blackened, and dozens fell dead, Adolin collecting corpses around him like ripened fruit falling from a tree.\n\nAnd yet, Adolin was obviously struggling. His Shardplate was more than just cracked-there were holes in parts. His helm was gone, though he'd replaced it with a regular spearman's cap. His left leg limped, nearly dragging. That Blade of his was deadly, but the Parshendi drew closer and closer." } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Serve as the author's scribe, continue the tale.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, knights radiant\nAuthor: Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: The Way of Kings\nChapter: 94" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The highstorm winds began to blow against Dalinar's complex, powerful enough to make rocks groan. Navani huddled close to Dalinar, holding to him. She smelled wonderful. It felt... humbling to know how terrified she'd been for him.\n\nHer joy at having him back was enough to dampen, for now, her fury at him for how he'd treated Elhokar. She would come around. It had needed to be done.\n\nAs the highstorm hit in force, Dalinar felt the vision coming on. He closed his eyes, letting it take him. He had a decision to make, a responsibility. What to do? These visions had lied to him, or had at least misled him. It seemed that he couldn't trust them, at least not as explicitly as he once had.\n\nHe took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and found himself in a place of smoke.\n\nHe turned about, wary. The sky was dark and he stood on afield of dull, bone-white rock, jagged and rough, extending in all directions. Off into eternity. Amorphous shapes made of curling grey smoke rose from the ground. Like smoke rings, only in other shapes. Here a chair. There a rockbud, with vines extended, curling to the sides and vanishing. Beside him appeared the figure of a man in uniform, silent and vaporous, rising lethargically toward the sky, mouth open. The shapes melted and distorted as they climbed higher, though they seemed to hold their forms longer than they should. It was unnerving, standing on the eternal plain, pure darkness above, smoke figures rising all around.\n\nIt wasn't like any vision he'd seen before. It was...\n\nNo, wait. He frowned, stepping back as the figure of a tree burst from the ground close to him. I have seen this place before. In the first of my visions, so many months ago. It was fuzzy in his mind. He'd been disoriented, the vision vague, as if his mind hadn't learned to accept what it was seeing. In fact, the only thing he remembered distinctly was-" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You must unite them,\" a strong voice boomed.\n\n-was the voice. Speaking to him from all around, causing the smoke figures to fuzz and distort.\n\n\"Why did you lie tome?\" Dalinar demanded of the open darkness. \"I did what you said, and I was betrayed!\"\n\n\"Unite them. The sun approaches the horizon. The Everstorm comes. The True Desolation. The Night of Sorrows.\"\n\n\"I need answers!\" Dalinar said. \"I don't trust you any longer. If you want me to listen to you, you'll need to-\"\n\nThe vision changed. He spun about, finding that he was still on an open plain of rock, but the normal sun was in the sky. The stone field looked like an ordinary one on Roshar.\n\nIt was very odd for one of the visions to set him in a place without others to talk to and interact with. Though, for once, he wore his own clothing. The sharp blue Kholin uniform.\n\nHad this happened before, the other time he'd been in that place of smoke? Yes... it had. This was the first time he'd been taken to a place where he'd been before. Why?\n\nHe carefully scanned the scenery. Since the voice didn't speak to him again, he began to walk, passing cracked boulders and broken bits of shale, pebbles and rocks. There were no plants, not even rockbuds. Just an empty landscape filled with broken stones.\n\nEventually, he spotted a ridge. Getting to high ground felt like a good idea, though the hike seemed to take hours. The vision did not end. Time was often odd in these visions. He continued to hike up the side of the rock formation, wishing he had his Shardplate to strengthen him. Finally at the top, he walked over to the edge to look down below." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And there he saw Kholinar, his home, the capital city of Alethkar.\n\nIt had been destroyed.\n\nThe beautiful buildings had been shattered. The windblades were cast down. There were nobodies, just broken stone. This wasn't like the vision he had seen before, with Nohadon. That wasn't the Kholinar of the distant past; he could seethe rubble of his own palace. But there was no rock formation like the one he stood on near Kholinar in the real world. Always before, these visions had shown him the past. Was this now a vision of the future?\n\n\"I cannot fight him any longer,\" the voice said.\n\nDalinar jumped, glancing to the side. A man stood there. He had dark skin and pure white hair. Tall, thick of chest but not massive, he wore exotic clothing of a strange cut: loose, billowing trousers and a coat that came down only to his waist. Both seemed made of gold.\n\nYes... this very thing had happened before, in his very first vision. Dalinar could remember it now. \"Who are you?\" Dalinar demanded. \"Why are you showing me these visions?\"\n\n\"You can see it there,\" the figure said, pointing. \"If you look closely. It begins in the distance.\"\n\nDalinar glanced in that direction, annoyed. He couldn't make out anything specific. \"Storm it,\" Dalinar said. \"Won't you answer my questions for once? What is the good of all of this if you just speak in riddles?\"\n\nThe man didn't answer. He just kept pointing. And... yes, something was happening. There was a shadow in the air, approaching. A wall of darkness. Like a highstorm, only wrong." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"At least tell me this,\" Dalinar said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What time are we seeing? Is this the past, the future, or something else entirely?\"\n\nThe figure didn't answer immediately. Then he said, \"You're probably wondering if this is a vision of the future.\"\n\nDalinar started. \"I just... I just asked...\"\n\nThis was familiar. Too familiar.\n\nHe said that exact thing last time, Dalinar realized, feeling a chill. This all happened. I'm seeing the same vision again.\n\nThe figure squinted at the horizon. \"I cannot seethe future completely. Cultivation, she is better at it than I. It's as if the future is a shattering window. The further you look, the more pieces that window breaks into. The near future can be anticipated, but the distant future... I can only guess.\"\n\n\"You can't hear me, can you?\" Dalinar asked, feeling a horror as he finally began to understand. \"You never could.\"\n\nBlood of my fathers... he's not ignoring me. He can't see me! He doesn't speak in riddles. It just seems that way because I took his responses as cryptic answers to my questions.\n\nHe didn't tell me to trust Sadeas. I... I just assumed...\n\nEverything seemed to shake around Dalinar. His preconceptions, what he'd thought he'd known. The ground itself.\n\n\"That is what could happen,\" the figure said, nodding into the distance. \"It's what I fear will happen. It's what he wants. The True Desolation.\"\n\nNo, that wall in the air wasn't a highstorm. It wasn't rainmaking that enormous shadow, but blowing dust. He remembered this vision in full, now. It had ended here, with him confused, staring out at that oncoming wall of dust. This time, however, the vision continued." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The figure turned to him. \"I am sorry to do this to you. By now I hope that what you've seen has given you a foundation to understand. But I can't know for certain. I don't know who you are, or how you have found your way here.\"\n\n\"I...\" What to say? Did it matter?\n\n\"Most of what I show you are scenes I have seen directly,\" the figure said. \"But some, such as this one, are born out of my fears. If I fear it, then you should too.\"\n\nThe land was trembling. The wall of dust was being caused by something. Something approaching.\n\nThe ground was falling away.\n\nDalinar gasped. The very rocks ahead were shattering, breaking apart, becoming dust. He backed away as everything began to shake, a massive earthquake accompanied by a terrible roar of dying rocks. He fell to the ground.\n\nThere was an awful, grinding, terrifying moment of nightmare. The shaking, the destruction, the sounds of the land itself seeming to die.\n\nThen it was past. Dalinar breathed in and out before rising on unsteady legs. He and the figure stood on a solitary pinnacle of rock. A little section that-for some reason-had been protected. It was like a stone pillar a few paces wide, rising high into the air.\n\nAround it, the land was gone. Kholinar was gone. It had all fallen away into unplumbed darkness below. He felt vertigo, standing on the tiny bit of rock that-impossibly-remained.\n\n\"What is this?\" Dalinar demanded, though he knew that the being couldn't hear him.\n\nThe figure looked about, sorrowful. \"I can't leave much. Just these few images, given to you. Whoever you are.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"These visions... they're like a journal, aren't they? A history you wrote, a book you left behind, except I don't read it, I see it.\"\n\nThe figure looked into the sky. \"I don't even know if anyone will ever see this. I am gone, you see.\"\n\nDalinar didn't respond. He looked over the sheer pinnacle, down at avoid, horrified.\n\n\"This isn't just about you either,\" the figure said, raising his hand into the air. Alight winked out in the sky, one that Dalinar hadn't realized was there. Then another winked out as well. The sun seemed to be growing dimmer.\n\n\"It's about all of them,\" the figure said. \"I should have realized he'd come for me.\"\n\n\"Who are you?\" Dalinar asked, voicing the words to himself.\n\nThe figure still stared into the sky. \"I leave this, because there must be something. A hope to discover. A chance that someone will find what to do. Do you wish to fight him?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Dalinar found himself saying, despite knowing that it didn't matter. \"I don't know who he is, but if he wants to do this, then I will fight him.\"\n\n\"Someone must lead them.\"\n\n\"I will do it,\" Dalinar said. The words just came out.\n\n\"Someone must unite them.\"\n\n\"I will do it.\"\n\n\"Someone must protect them.\"\n\n\"I will do it!\"\n\nThe figure was silent fora moment. Then he spoke in a clear, crisp voice. \"Life before death. Strength before weakness. Journey before destination. Speak again the ancient oaths and return to men the Shards they once bore.\" He turned to Dalinar, meeting his eyes. \"The Knights Radiant must stand again.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I cannot comprehend how that can be done,\" Dalinar said softly. \"But I will try.\"\n\n\"Men must face them together,\" the figure said, stepping up to Dalinar, placing a hand on his shoulder. \"You cannot squabble as in times past. He's realized that you, given time, will become your own enemies. That he doesn't need to fight you. Not if he can make you forget, make you turn against one another. Your legends say that you won. But the truth is that we lost. And we are losing.\"\n\n\"Who are you?\" Dalinar asked again, voice softer.\n\n\"I wish I could do more,\" repeated the figure in gold. \"You might be able to get him to choose a champion. He is bound by some rules. All of us are. A champion could work well for you, but it is not certain. And... without the Dawnshards... Well, I have done what I can. It is a terrible, terrible thing to leave you alone.\"\n\n\"Who are you?\" Dalinar asked again. And yet, he thought he knew.\n\n\"I am... I was... God. The one you call the Almighty, the creator of mankind.\" The figure closed his eyes. \"And now I am dead. Odium has killed me. I am sorry.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Can you feel it?\" Wit asked of the open night. \"Something just changed. I believe that's the sound the world makes when it pisses itself.\"\n\nThree guards stood just inside the thick wooden city gates of Kholinar. The men regarded Wit with worry.\n\nThe gates were closed, and these men were of the night watch, a somewhat inappropriate title. They didn't spend time'watching\" so much as chatting, yawning, gambling, or-in tonight's case-standing uncomfortably and listening to a crazy man.\n\nThat crazy man happened to have blue eyes, which let him getaway with all kinds of trouble. Perhaps Wit should have been bemused by the stock these people put in something as simple as eye color, but he had been many places and seen many methods of rule. This didn't seem anymore ridiculous than most others.\n\nAnd, of course, there was a reason the people did what they did. Well, there was usually a reason. In this case, it just happened to be a good one.\n\n\"Brightlord?\" one of the guards asked, looking at where Wit sat on his boxes. They'd been piled there and left by a merchant who had tipped the nightwatchmen to make certain nothing was stolen. To Wit, they simply made a convenient perch. His pack sat beside him, and on his knees he was tuning his enthir, a square, stringed instrument. You played it from above, plucking at strings with it sitting on your lap.\n\n\"Brightlord?\" the guard repeated. \"What are you doing up there?\"\n\n\"Waiting,\" Wit said. He looked up, glancing eastward. \"Waiting for the storm to arrive.\"\n\nThat made the guards more uncomfortable. A highstorm was not predicted this night.\n\nWit began playing the enthir. \"Let us have a conversation to pass the time. Tell me. What is it that men value in others?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The music played toward an audience of silent buildings, alleys, and worn cobblestones. The guards didn't respond to him. They didn't seem to know what to make of a black-clad, lighteyed man who entered the city just before evening fell, then sat on boxes beside the gates playing music.\n\n\"Well?\" Wit asked, pausing the music. \"What do you think? If a manor woman were to have a talent, which would be the most revered, best regarded, considered of the most worth?\"\n\n\"Er... music?\" one of the men finally said.\n\n\"Yes, a common answer,\" Wit said, plucking at a few low notes. \"I once asked this question of some very wise scholars. What do men consider the most valuable of talents? One mentioned artistic ability, as you so keenly guessed. Another chose great intellect. The final chose the talent to invent, the ability to design and create great devices.\"\n\nHe didn't play a specific tune on the enthir, just plucks here and there, an occasional scale or fifth. Like chitchat in string form.\n\n\"Aesthetic genius,\" Wit said, \"invention, acumen, creativity. Noble ideals indeed. Most men would pick one of those, if given the choice, and name them the greatest of talents.\" He plucked a string. \"What beautiful liars we are.\"\n\nThe guards glanced at each other; the torches burning in brackets on the wall painted them with orange light.\n\n\"You think I'm a cynic,\" Wit said. \"You think I'm going to tell you that men claim to value these ideals, but secretly prefer base talents. The ability to gather coin or to charm women. Well, I am a cynic, but in this case, I actually think those scholars were honest. Their answers speak for the souls of men. In our hearts, we want to believe in-and would choose-great accomplishment and virtue. That's why our lies, particularly to ourselves, are so beautiful.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He began to play areal song. A simple melody at first, soft, subdued. A song fora silent night when the entire world changed.\n\nOne of the soldiers cleared his throat. \"So what is the most valuable talent a man can have?\" He sounded genuinely curious.\n\n\"I haven't the faintest idea,\" Wit said. \"Fortunately, that wasn't the question. I didn't ask what was most valuable, I asked what men value most. The difference between those questions is both tiny and as vast as the world itself all at once.\"\n\nHe kept plucking his song. One did not strum an enthir. It just wasn't done, at least not by people with any sense of propriety.\n\n\"In this,\" Wit said, \" as in all things, our actions give us away. If an artist creates a work of powerful beauty-using new and innovative techniques-she will be lauded as a master, and will launch anew movement in aesthetics. Yet what if another, working independently with that exact level of skill, were to make the same accomplishments the very next month? Would she find similar acclaim? No. She'd be called derivative.\n\n\"Intellect. If a great thinker develops anew theory of mathematics, science, or philosophy, we will name him wise. We will sit at his feet and learn, and will record his name in history for thousands upon thousands to revere. But what if another man determines the same theory on his own, then delays in publishing his results by a mere week? Will he be remembered for his greatness? No. He will be forgotten.\n\n\"Invention. A woman builds anew design of great worth-some fabrial or feat of engineering. She will be known as an innovator. But if someone with the same talent creates the same design a year later-not realizing it has already been crafted-will she be rewarded for her creativity? No. She'll be called a copier and a forger.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He plucked at his strings, letting the melody continue, twisting, haunting, yet with a faint edge of mockery. \"And so,\" he said, \" in the end, what must we determine? Is it the intellect of a genius that we revere? If it were their artistry, the beauty of their mind, would we not laud it regardless of whether we'd seen their product before?\n\n\"But we don't. Given two works of artistic majesty, otherwise weighted equally, we will give greater acclaim to the one who did it first. It doesn't matter what you create. It matters what you create before anyone else.\n\n\"So it's not the beauty itself we admire. It's not the force of intellect. It's not invention, aesthetics, or capacity itself. The greatest talent that we think a man can have?\" He plucked one final string. \"Seems tome that it must be nothing more than novelty.\"\n\nThe guards looked confused.\n\nThe gates shook. Something pounded on them from outside.\n\n\"The storm has come,\" Wit said, standing up.\n\nThe guards scrambled for spears left leaning beside the wall. They had a guardhouse, but it was empty; they preferred the night air.\n\nThe gate shook again, as if something enormous were outside. The guards yelled, calling to the men atop the wall. All was chaos and confusion as the gate thumped yet a third time, powerful, shaking, vibrating as if hit with a boulder.\n\nAnd then a bright, silvery blade rammed between the massive doors, slicing upward, cutting the bar that held them closed. A Shardblade.\n\nThe gates swung open. The guards scrambled back. Wit waited on his boxes, enthir held in one hand, pack over his shoulder." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Outside the gates, standing on the dark stone roadway, was a solitary man with dark skin. His hair was long and matted, his clothing nothing more than a ragged, sacklike length of cloth wrapping his waist. He stood with head bowed, wet, ratty hair hanging down over his face and mixing with a beard that had bits of wood and leaves stuck in it.\n\nHis muscles glistened, wet as if he'd just swum a great distance. To his side, he carried a massive Shardblade, point down, sticking about a finger's width into the stone, his hand on the hilt. The Blade reflected torchlight; it was long, narrow, and straight, shaped like an enormous spike.\n\n\"Welcome, lost one,\" Wit whispered.\n\n\"Who are you!\" one of the guards called, nervous, as one of the other two ran to give the alert. A Shardbearer had come to Kholinar.\n\nThe figure ignored the question. He stepped forward, dragging his Shardblade, as if it weighed a great deal. It cut the rock behind him, leaving a tiny groove in the stone. The figure walked unsteadily, and nearly tripped. He steadied himself against the gate door, and a lock of hair moved from the side of his face, exposing his eyes. Dark brown eyes, like a man of the lower class. Those eyes were wild, dazed.\n\nThe man finally noticed the two guards, who stood, terrified, with spears leveled at him. He raised his empty hand toward them. \"Go,\" he said raggedly, speaking perfect Alethi, no hint of an accent. \"Run! Raise the call! Give the warning!\"\n\n\"Who are you?\" one of the guards forced out. \"What warning? Who attacks?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "The man paused." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He raised a hand to his head, wavering. \"Who am I? I... I am Talenel'Elin, Stonesinew, Herald of the Almighty. The Desolation has come. Oh, God... it has come. And I have failed.\"\n\nHe slumped forward, hitting the rocky ground, Shardblade clattering down behind him. It did not vanish. The guards inched forward. One prodded the man with the butt of his spear.\n\nThe man who had named himself a Herald did not move.\n\n\"What is it we value?\" Wit whispered. \"Innovation. Originality. Novelty. But most importantly... timeliness. I fear you maybe too late, my confused, unfortunate friend.\"" } ]
[ { "from": "system", "value": "Extend the plot as the writer's co-author.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, siege\nAuthor: Brandon Sanderson\nTitle: The Well of Ascension\nChapter: 32" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"All right,\" Elend said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Let's vote. Please remember-giving me time will not play our hand. It will simply give me a chance to try and make my father reconsider his desire to take our city away from us.\"\n\n\"Elend, lad,\" said Lord Penrod. \"We all lived here during the Lord Ruler's reign. We all know what kind of man your father is. If he wants this city, he is going to take it. All we can decide, then, is how to best give up. Perhaps we can find away for the people to retain some freedom under his rule.\"\n\nThe group sat quietly, and for the first time nobody brought up anew squabble. A few of them turned toward Penrod, who sat with a calm, in-control expression. Vin knew little of the man. He was one of the more powerful noblemen who had remained in the city after the Collapse, and he was politically conservative. However, she had never heard him speak derogatively of the skaa, which was probably why he was so popular with the people.\n\n\"I speak bluntly,\" Penrod said, \"for it is the truth. We are not in a position to bargain.\"\n\n\"I agree with Penrod,\" Philen said, jumping in. \"If Elend wants to meet with Straff Venture, then I guess that's his right. As I understand it, kingship grants him authority to negotiate with foreign monarchs. However, we don't have to promise not to give Straff the city.\"\n\n\"Master Philen,\" Lord Penrod said. \"I think you misjudged my intent. I said that giving up the city was inevitable-but that we should try to gain as much from it as possible. That means at least meeting with Straff to assess his disposition. Voting to give him the city now would be to play our hand too soon.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Elend looked up, looking hopeful for the first time since the discussion had first degenerated." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So, you support my proposal?\" he asked.\n\n\"It is an awkward way to achieve the pause I think necessary,\" Penrod said. \"But... seeing as how the army is already here, then I doubt we have time for anything else. So, yes, Your Majesty. I support your proposal.\"\n\nSeveral other members of the Assembly nodded as Penrod spoke, as if giving the proposal consideration for the first time. That Penrod has too much power, Vin thought, eyes narrowing as she regarded the elderly statesman. They listen to him more than they do Elend.\n\n\"Should we vote, then?\" one of the other Assemblymen asked.\n\nAnd they did. Elend recorded votes as they moved down the line of Assemblymen. The eight noblemen-seven plus Elend-voted for the proposal, giving Penrod's opinion a great deal of weight. The eight skaa were mostly for it, and the merchants mostly against it. In the end, however, Elend got the two-thirds vote he needed.\n\n\"Proposal accepted,\" Elend said, making the final tally, looking a bit surprised. \"The Assembly divests itself of the right to surrender the city until after the king has met with Straff Venture in official parlay.\"\n\nVin sat back in her seat, trying to decide what she thought of the vote. It was good that Elend had gotten his way, but the manner in which he'd achieved it bothered her.\n\nElend finally relinquished the lectern, sitting and letting a disgruntled Philen take the lead. The merchant read a proposal calling fora vote to turn control of city food stockpiles over to the merchants. However, this time Elend himself led the dissent, and the arguing began again. Vin watched with interest. Did Elend even realize how much like the others he acted while he was arguing against their proposals?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elend and a few of the skaa Assemblymen managed to filibuster long enough that the lunch break arrived with no vote cast. The people in the audience stood, stretching, and Ham turned toward her. \"Good meeting, eh?\"\n\nVin just shrugged.\n\nHam chuckled. \"We really have to do something about your ambivalence toward civic duty, kid.\"\n\n\"I already overthrew one government,\" Vin said. \"I figure that takes care of my \"civic duty\" fora while.\"\n\nHam smiled, though he kept a wary eye on the crowd-as did Vin. Now, with everyone moving about, would be the perfect time for an attempt on Elend's life. One person in particular caught her attention, and she frowned.\n\n\"Be back in a few seconds,\" she said to Ham, rising.\n\n\"You did the right thing, Lord Penrod,\" Elend said, standing beside the older nobleman, whispering quietly as break proceeded. \"We need more time. You know what my father will do to this city if he takes it.\"\n\nLord Penrod shook his head. \"I didn't do this for you, son. I did it because I wanted to make certain that fool Philen didn't hand the city over before the nobility extracted promises from your father about our rights to title.\"\n\n\"Now, see,\" Elend said, holding up a finger. \"There has to be another way! The Survivor would never have given this city away without a fight.\"\n\nPenrod frowned, and Elend paused, quietly cursing himself. The old lord was a traditionalist-quoting the Survivor at him would have little positive effect. Many of the noblemen felt threatened by Kelsier's influence with the skaa.\n\n\"Just think about it,\" Elend said, glancing to the side as Vin approached. She waved him away from the Assemblymen seats, and he excused himself. He crossed the stage, joining her. \"What is it?\" he asked quietly." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Woman at the back,\" Vin said quietly, eyes suspicious. \"Tall one, in the blue.\"\n\nThe woman in question wasn't hard to find; she wore a bright blue blouse and colorful red skirt. She was middle-aged, of lean build, and had her waist-length hair pulled back in a braid. She waited patiently as people moved about the room.\n\n\"What about her?\" Elend asked.\n\n\"Terris,\" Vin said.\n\nElend paused. \"You're sure?\"\n\nVin nodded. \"Those colors... that much jewelry. She's a Terriswoman for sure.\"\n\n\"So?\"\n\n\"So, I've never met her,\" Vin said. \"And she was watching you, just now.\"\n\n\"People watch me, Vin,\" Elend noted. \"I am the king, after all. Besides, why should you have met her?\"\n\n\"All of the other Terris people have come to meet me right after they enter the city,\" Vin said. \"I killed the Lord Ruler; they see meas the one that freed their homeland. But, I don't recognize her. She hasn't ever come thank me.\"\n\nElend rolled his eyes, grabbing Vin by the shoulders and turning her away from the woman. \"Vin, I feel it's my gentlemanly duty to tell you something.\"\n\nVin frowned. \"What?\"\n\n\"You're gorgeous.\"\n\nVin paused. \"What does that have to do with anything?\"\n\n\"Absolutely nothing,\" Elend said with a smile. \"I'm just trying to distract you.\"\n\nSlowly, Vin relaxed, smiling slightly.\n\n\"I don't know if anyone's ever told you this, Vin,\" Elend noted, \"but you can be a bit paranoid at times.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "She raised an eyebrow." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Oh?\"\n\n\"I know it's hard to believe, but it's true. Now, I happen to find it rather charming, but do you honestly think that a Terriswoman would try to kill me?\"\n\n\"Probably not,\" Vin admitted. \"But, old habits...\"\n\nElend smiled. Then, he glanced back at the Assemblymen, most of whom were speaking quietly in groups. They didn't mix. Noblemen spoke with noblemen, merchants with merchants, skaa workers with other skaa workers. They seemed so fragmented, so obstinate. The simplest proposals sometimes met with arguments that could take hours.\n\nThey need to give me more time! he thought. Yet, even as he thought, he realized the problem. More time for what? Penrod and Philen had accurately attacked his proposal.\n\nThe truth was, the entire city was in over its head. Nobody really knew what to do about a superior invading force, least of all Elend. He just knew that they couldn't give up. Not yet. There had to be away to fight.\n\nVin was still looking to the side, out over the audience. Elend followed her gaze. \"Still watching that Terriswoman?\"\n\nVin shook her head. \"Something else... something odd. Is that one of Clubs's messengers?\"\n\nElend paused, turning. Indeed, several soldiers were working their way through the crowd, approaching the stage. At the back of the room, people had begun whispering and shuffling, and some were already moving quickly out of the chamber.\n\nElend felt Vin stiffen in anxiety, and fear stabbed him. We're too late. The army has attacked.\n\nOne of the soldiers finally reached the stage, and Elend rushed over. \"What?\" he asked. \"Has Straff attacked?\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The soldier frowned, looking concerned. \"No, my lord.\"\n\nElend sighed slightly. \"What, then?\"\n\n\"My lord, it's a second army. It just arrived outside the city.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Oddly, it was Alendi's simple ingenuousness that first led me to befriend him. I employed him as an assistant during his first months in the grand city." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "FOR THE SECOND TIME IN two days, Elend stood atop the Luthadel city wall, studying an army that had come to invade his kingdom. Elend squinted against the red afternoon sunlight, but he was no Tineye; he couldn't make out details about the new arrival.\n\n\"Any chance they're hereto help us?\" Elend asked hopefully, looking toward Clubs, who stood beside him.\n\nClubs just scowled. \"They fly Cett's banner. Remember him? Guy who sent eight Allomancer assassins to kill you two days back?\"\n\nElend shivered in the chill autumn weather, glancing back out over the second army. It was making camp a good distance from Straff's army, close to the Luth-Davn Canal, which ran out the west side of the River Channerel. Vin stood at Elend's side, though Ham was off organizing things among the city guard. OreSeur, wearing the wolfhound's body, sat patiently on the wall walk beneath Vin.\n\n\"How did we miss their approach?\" Elend asked.\n\n\"Straff,\" Clubs said. \"This Cett came in from the same direction, and our scouts were focused on him. Straff probably knew about this other army a few days ago, but we had virtually no chance of seeing them.\"\n\nElend nodded.\n\n\"Straff is setting up a perimeter of soldiers, watching the enemy army,\" Vin said. \"I doubt they're friendly to each other.\" She stood atop one of the sawtooth parapet crenels, feet positioned dangerously close to the wall's edge.\n\n\"Maybe they'll attack each other,\" Elend said hopefully.\n\nClubs snorted. \"I doubt it. They're too evenly matched, though Straff might be a little stronger. I doubt Cett would take the chance by attacking him.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"Why come, then?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elend asked.\n\nClubs shrugged. \"Maybe he hoped he'd beat Venture to Luthadel, and get to take it first.\"\n\nHe spoke of the event-the capture of Luthadel-as if it were a given. Elend's stomach twisted as he leaned against the battlement, looking out through a merlon. Vin and the others were thieves and skaa Allomancers-outcasts who had been hunted for most of their lives. Perhaps they were accustomed to dealing with this pressure-this fear-but Elend was not.\n\nHow did they live with the lack of control, the sense of inevitability? Elend felt powerless. What could he do? Flee, and leave the city to fend for itself? That, of course, was not an option. But, confronted with not one, but two armies preparing to destroy his city and take his throne, Elend found it hard to keep his hands steady as he gripped the rough stone of the battlement.\n\nKelsier would have found away out of this, he thought.\n\n\"There!\" Vin's voice interrupted Elend's thoughts. \"What's that?\"\n\nElend turned. Vin was squinting, looking toward Cett's army, using tin to see things that were invisible to Elend's mundane eyes.\n\n\"Someone's leaving the army,\" Vin said. \"Riding on horseback.\"\n\n\"Messenger?\" Clubs asked.\n\n\"Maybe,\" Vin said. \"He's riding pretty fast....\" She began to run from one stone tooth to the next, moving along the wall. Her kandra immediately followed, padding quietly across the wall beneath her.\n\nElend glanced at Clubs, who shrugged, and they began to follow. They caught up with Vin standing on the wall near one of the towers, watching the oncoming rider. Or, at least, Elend assumed that was what she watched-he still couldn't see what she had." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Allomancy, Elend thought, shaking his head. Why couldn't he have at least ended up with one power-even one of the weaker ones, like copper or iron?\n\nVin cursed suddenly, standing up straight. \"Elend, that's Breeze!\"\n\n\"What!\" Elend said. \"Are you sure?\"\n\n\"Yes! He's being chased. Archers on horseback.\"\n\nClubs cursed, waving to a messenger. \"Send riders! Cutoff his pursuit!\"\n\nThe messenger dashed away. Vin, however, shook her head. \"They won't make it in time,\" she said, almost to herself. \"The archers will catch him, or at least shoot him. Even I couldn't get there fast enough, not running. But, maybe...\"\n\nElend frowned, looking up at her. \"Vin, that's way too far to jump-even for you.\"\n\nVin glanced at him, smiled, then leaped off the wall.\n\nVin readied the fourteenth metal, duralumin. She had a reserve, but she didn't burn it-not yet. I hope this works, she thought, seeking an appropriate anchor. The tower beside her had a reinforced iron bulwark on the top-that would work.\n\nShe Pulled on the bulwark, yanking herself up to the top of the tower. She immediately jumped again, Pushing herself up and out, angling into the air away from the wall. She extinguished all of her metals except for steel and pewter.\n\nThen, still Pushing against the bulwark, she burned duralumin.\n\nA sudden force smashed against her. It was so powerful, she was certain that only an equally powerful flash of pewter held her body together. She blasted away from the keep, hurtling through the sky as if tossed by some giant, invisible god. The air rushed by so quickly that it roared, and the pressure of sudden acceleration made it difficult to think." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She floundered, trying to regain control. She had, fortunately, picked her trajectory well: she was shooting right toward Breeze and his pursuers. Whatever Breeze had done, it had been enough to make someone extremely angry-for there were a full two dozen men charging after him, arrows nocked.\n\nVin fell, her steel and pewter completely burned away in that single duralumin-fueled flash of power. She grabbed a metal vial off her belt, downing its contents. However, as she tossed the vial away, she suddenly felt an odd sense of vertigo. She wasn't accustomed to jumping during the day. It was strange to seethe ground coming at her, strange not to have a mistcloak flapping behind her, strange not to have the mist....\n\nThe lead rider lowered his bow, taking sight at Breeze. Neither appeared to have noticed Vin, swooping down like a bird of prey above.\n\nWell, not exactly swooping. Plummeting.\n\nSuddenly snapped back to the moment, Vin burned pewter and threw a coin toward the quickly approaching ground. She Pushed against the coin, using it to slow her momentum and to nudge her to the side. She hit right between Breeze and the archers, landing with a jarring crash, throwing up dust and dirt.\n\nThe archer released his arrow.\n\nEven as Vin rebounded, dirt spraying around her, she reached out and Pushed herself back into the air straight at the arrow. Then she Pushed against it. The arrowhead ripped backward-throwing out shards of wood as it split its own shaft in midair-then smacked directly into the forehead of the archer who had released it.\n\nThe man toppled from his mount. Vin landed from her rebound. She reached out, Pushing against the horseshoes of the two beasts behind the leader, causing the animals to stumble. The Push threw Vin backward into the air, and cries of equine pain sounded amid the crash of bodies hitting the ground." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Vin continued to Push, flying along the road just a few feet above the ground, quickly catching up with Breeze. The portly man turned in shock, obviously stunned to find Vin hanging in the air beside his galloping horse, her clothing flapping in the wind of her passage. She winked at him, then reached out and Pulled against the armor of another rider.\n\nShe immediately lurched in the air. Her body protested the sudden shift in momentum, but she ignored the twist of pain. The man she Pulled against managed to stay in his saddle-until Vin smashed into him feet-first, throwing him backward.\n\nShe landed on the black earth, the rider tumbling to the ground beside her. A short distance away, the remaining riders finally reined in their mounts, coming to an abrupt stop a few feet away.\n\nKelsier probably would have attacked. There were a lot of them, true, but they were wearing armor and their horses were shod. Vin, however, was not Kelsier. She had delayed the riders long enough for Breeze to getaway. That was enough.\n\nVin reached out and Pushed against one of the soldiers, throwing herself backward, leaving the riders to gather their wounded. The soldiers, however, promptly pulled out stone-tipped arrows and nocked their bows.\n\nVin hissed in frustration as the group took sight. Well, friends, she thought, I suggest that you hang on tightly.\n\nShe Pushed slightly against them all, then burned duralumin. The sudden crash of force was expected-the wrench in her chest, the massive flare in her stomach, the howling wind. What she didn't expect was the effect she'd have on her anchors. The blast of power scattered men and horses, throwing them into the air like leaves in the wind." }, { "from": "human", "value": "I'm going to have to be very careful with this, Vin thought, gritting her teeth and spinning herself in the air." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her steel and pewter were gone again, and she was forced to down her last metal vial. She'd have to start carrying more of those.\n\nShe hit the ground running, pewter keeping her from tripping despite her terrific speed. She slowed just slightly, letting the mounted Breeze catch up to her, then increased her pace to keep up with him. She dashed like a sprinter, letting pewter's strength and balance keep her upright as she paced the tiring horse. The beast eyed her as they ran, seeming to display a hint of animal frustration to see a human matching it.\n\nThey reached the city a few moments later. Breeze reined in as the doors to Iron Gate began to open, but, rather than wait, Vin simply threw down a coin and Pushed, letting her forward momentum carry her toward the walls. As the gates swung open, she Pushed against their studs, and this second Push sent her sailing straight up. She just barely crested the battlements-passing between a pair of startled soldiers-before dropping over the other side. She landed in the courtyard, steadying herself with one hand against the cool stones, as Breeze entered through the gate.\n\nVin stood. Breeze patted his forehead with a handkerchief as he trotted his animal up beside her. He'd let his hair grow longer since she'd last seen him, and he kept it slicked back, its lower edges tickling his collar. It wasn't graying yet, though he was in his mid-forties. He wore no hat-it had probably blown free-but he had on one of his rich suits and silken vests. They were powdered with black ash from his hurried ride.\n\n\"Ah, Vin, my dear,\" Breeze said, breathing almost as deeply as his horse. \"I must say, that was a timely arrival on your part. Impressively flamboyant as well. I do hate to force a rescue-but, well, if one is necessary, then it might as well happen with style.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Vin smiled as he climbed down from the horse-proving he was hardly the most adroit man in the square-and stablehands arrived to care for the beast. Breeze wiped his brow again as Elend, Clubs, and OreSeur scrambled down the steps to the courtyard. One of the aides must have finally found Ham, for he ran up through the courtyard.\n\n\"Breeze!\" Elend said, approaching and clasping arms with the shorter man.\n\n\"Your Majesty,\" Breeze said. \"You are in good health and good humor, I assume?\"\n\n\"Health, yes,\" Elend said. \"Humor... well, there is an army crouching just outside my city.\"\n\n\"Two armies, actually,\" Clubs grumbled as he hobbled up.\n\nBreeze folded up his handkerchief. \"Ah, and dear Master Cladent. Optimistic as always, I see.\"\n\nClubs snorted. To the side, OreSeur padded up to sit next to Vin.\n\n\"And Hammond,\" Breeze said, eyeing Ham, who was smiling broadly. \"I'd almost managed to delude myself into forgetting that you would be here when I returned.\"\n\n\"Admit it,\" Ham said. \"You're glad to see me.\"\n\n\"See you, perhaps. Hear you, never. I had grown quite fond of my time spent away from your perpetual, pseudo-philosophical pratterings.\"\n\nHam just smiled a little broader.\n\n\"I'm glad to see you, Breeze,\" Elend said. \"But your timing could have been a little better. I was hoping that you would be able to stop some of these armies from marching onus.\"\n\n\"Stop them?\" Breeze asked. \"Now, why would I want to do that, my dear man? I did, after all, just spend three months working to get Cett to march his army down here.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elend paused, and Vin frowned to herself, standing just outside the group. Breeze looked rather pleased with himself-though that was, admittedly, rather common for him.\n\n\"So... Lord Cett's on our side?\" Elend asked hopefully.\n\n\"Of course not,\" Breeze said. \"He's hereto ravage the city and steal your presumed atium supply.\"\n\n\"You,\" Vin said. \"You're the one who has been spreading the rumors about the Lord Ruler's atium stash, aren't you?\"\n\n\"Of course,\" Breeze said, eyeing Spook as the boy finally arrived at the gates.\n\nElend frowned. \"But... why?\"\n\n\"Look outside your walls, my dear man,\" Breeze said. \"I knew that your father was going to march on Luthadel eventually-even my powers of persuasion wouldn't have been enough to dissuade him. So, I began spreading rumors in the Western Dominance, then made myself one of Lord Cett's advisors.\"\n\nClubs grunted. \"Good plan. Crazy, but good.\"\n\n\"Crazy?\" Breeze said. \"My mental stability is no issue here, Clubs. The move was not crazy, but brilliant.\"\n\nElend looked confused. \"Not to insult your brilliance, Breeze. But... how exactly is bringing a hostile army to our city a good idea?\"\n\n\"It's basic negotiating strategy, my good man,\" Breeze explained as a packman handed him his dueling cane, taken off the horse. Breeze used it to gesture westward, toward Lord Cett's army. \"When there are only two participants in a negotiation, one is generally stronger than the other. That makes things very difficult for the weaker party-which, in this case, would have been us.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Yes,\" Elend said, \"but with three armies, we're still the weakest.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" Breeze said, holding up the cane, \"but those other two parties are fairly even in strength. Straff is likely stronger, but Cett has a very large force. If either of those warlords risks attacking Luthadel, his army will suffer losses-enough losses that he won't be able to defend himself from the third army. To attack us is to expose oneself.\"\n\n\"And that makes this a standoff,\" Clubs said.\n\n\"Exactly,\" Breeze said. \"Trust me, Elend my boy. In this case, two large, enemy armies are far better than a single large, enemy army. Ina three-way negotiation, the weakest party actually has the most power-because his allegiance added to either of the other two will choose the eventual winner.\"\n\nElend frowned. \"Breeze, we don't want to give our allegiance to either of these men.\"\n\n\"I realize that,\" Breeze said. \"However, our opponents do not. By bringing a second army in, I've given us time to think. Both warlords thought they could get here first. Now that they've arrived at the same time, they'll have to reevaluate. I'm guessing we'll end up in an extended siege. A couple of months at least.\"\n\n\"That doesn't explain how we're going to get rid of them,\" Elend said.\n\nBreeze shrugged. \"I got them here-you get to decide what to do with them. And I'll tell you, it was no easy task to make Cett arrive on time. He was due to come in a full five days before Venture. Fortunately, a certain... malady spread through camp a few days ago. Apparently, someone poisoned the main water supply and gave the entire camp diarrhea.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Spook, standing behind Clubs, snickered.\n\n\"Yes,\" Breeze said, eyeing the boy. \"I thought you might appreciate that. You still an unintelligible nuisance, boy?\"\n\n\"Wassing the whereof not,\" Spook said, smiling and slipping back into his Eastern street slang.\n\nBreeze snorted. \"You still make more sense than Hammond, half the time,\" he mumbled, turning to Elend. \"So, isn't anyone going to send fora carriage to drive me back to the palace? I've been Soothing you ungrateful lot for the better part of five minutes-looking as tired and pathetic as I can-and not one of you has had the good graces to pity me!\"\n\n\"You must be losing your touch,\" Vin said with a smile. Breeze was a Soother-an Allomancer who could burn brass to calm another person's emotions. Avery skilled Soother-and Vin knew of none more skilled than Breeze-could dampen all of a person's emotions but a single one, effectively making them feel exactly as he wanted.\n\n\"Actually,\" Elend said, turning and looking backup at the wall, \"I was hoping we could go backup on the wall and study the armies some more. If you spent time with Lord Cett's force, then you could probably tell us a lot about it.\"\n\n\"I can; I will; I am not going to climb those steps. Can't you see how tired I am, man?\"\n\nHam snorted, clapping Breeze on the shoulder-and throwing up a puff of dust. \"How can you be tired? Your poor horse did all the running.\"\n\n\"It was emotionally exhausting, Hammond,\" Breeze said, rapping the larger man's hand with his cane. \"My departure was somewhat disagreeable.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What happened, anyway?\" Vin asked. \"Did Cett find out you were a spy?\"\n\nBreeze looked embarrassed. \"Let's just say that Lord Cett and I had a... falling-out.\"\n\n\"Caught you in bed with his daughter, eh?\" Ham said, earning a chuckle from the group. Breeze was anything but a ladies' man. Despite his ability to play with emotions, he had expressed no interest in romance for as long as Vin had known him. Dockson had once noted that Breeze was just too focused on himself to consider such things.\n\nBreeze simply rolled his eyes at Ham's comment. \"Honestly, Hammond. I think your jokes are getting worse as you age. One too many hits on the head while sparring, I suspect.\"\n\nHam smiled, and Elend sent fora couple of carriages. While they waited, Breeze launched into a narrative of his travels. Vin glanced down at OreSeur. She still hadn't found a good opportunity to tell the rest of the crew about the body change. Perhaps now that Breeze was back, Elend would hold a conference with his inner circle. That would be a good time. She had to be quiet about it, since she wanted the palace staff to think that she'd sent OreSeur away.\n\nBreeze continued his story, and Vin looked back at him, smiling. Not only was Breeze a natural orator, but he had a very subtle touch with Allomancy. She could barely feel his fingers on her emotions. Once, she had found his intrusions offensive, but she was growing to understand that touching people's emotions was simply part of who Breeze was. Just as a beautiful woman demanded attention by virtue of her face and figure, Breeze drew it by near unconscious use of his powers." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Of course, that didn't make him any less a scoundrel." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Getting others to do as he wished was one of Breeze's main occupations. Vin just no longer resented him for using Allomancy to do it.\n\nThe carriage finally approached, and Breeze sighed in relief. As the vehicle pulled up, he eyed Vin, then nodded toward OreSeur. \"What's that?\"\n\n\"A dog,\" Vin said.\n\n\"Ah, blunt as ever, I see,\" Breeze said. \"And, why is it that you now have a dog?\"\n\n\"I gave it to her,\" Elend said. \"She wanted one, so I bought it for her.\"\n\n\"And you chose a wolfhound?\" Ham asked, amused.\n\n\"You've fought with her before, Ham,\" Elend said, laughing. \"What would you have given her? A poodle?\"\n\nHam chuckled. \"No, I guess not. It fits, actually.\"\n\n\"Though it's almost as big as she is,\" Clubs added, regarding her with a squinty-eyed look.\n\nVin reached down, resting her hand on OreSeur's head. Clubs did have a point; she'd chosen a big animal, even fora wolfhound. He stood over three feet tall at the shoulder-and Vin knew from experience how heavy that body was.\n\n\"Remarkably well-behaved fora wolfhound,\" Ham said, nodding. \"You chose well, El.\"\n\n\"Regardless,\" Breeze said. \"Can we please return to the palace? Armies and wolfhounds are all well and good, but I believe supper is more pressing at this point.\"\n\n\"So, why didn't we tell them about OreSeur?\" Elend asked, as their carriage bumped its way back toward Keep Venture. The three of them had taken a carriage of their own, leaving the other four to follow in the other vehicle." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Vin shrugged. OreSeur sat on the seat across from her and Elend, quietly watching the conversation. \"I'll tell them eventually,\" Vin said. \"A busy city square didn't seem the right place for the revelation.\"\n\nElend smiled. \"Keeping secrets is a hard habit to break, eh?\"\n\nVin flushed. \"I'm not keeping him secret, I'm just...\" She trailed off, looking down.\n\n\"Don't feel bad, Vin,\" Elend said. \"You lived along time on your own, without anyone to trust. Nobody expects you to change overnight.\"\n\n\"It hasn't been one night, Elend,\" she said. \"It's been two years.\"\n\nElend laid a hand on her knee. \"You're getting better. The others talk about how much you've changed.\"\n\nVin nodded. Another man would be afraid that I'm keeping secrets from him, too. Elend just tries to make me feel less guilty. He was a better man than she deserved.\n\n\"Kandra,\" Elend said, \"Vin says you do well at keeping up with her.\"\n\n\"Yes, Your Majesty,\" OreSeur said. \"These bones, though distasteful, are well equipped for tracking and quick movement.\"\n\n\"And if she gets hurt?\" Elend said. \"Will you be able to pull her to safety?\"\n\n\"Not with any speed, Your Majesty. I will, however, be able to go for aid. These bones have many limitations, but I will do my best to fulfill the Contract.\"\n\nElend must have caught Vin's raised eyebrow, for he chuckled. \"He'll do as he says, Vin.\"\n\n\"The Contract is everything, Mistress,\" OreSeur said. \"It demands more than simple service. It requires diligence and devotion. It is the kandra. By serving it, we serve our people.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "Vin shrugged." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The group fell silent, Elend pulling a book from his pocket, Vin leaning against him. OreSeur lay down, filling the entire seat opposite the humans. Eventually, the carriage rolled into the Venture courtyard, and Vin found herself looking forward to a warm bath. As they were climbing from the carriage, however, a guard rushed up to Elend. Tin allowed Vin to hear what the man said, even though he spoke before she could close the distance.\n\n\"Your Majesty,\" the guard whispered, \"our messenger reached you, then?\"\n\n\"No,\" Elend said with a frown as Vin walked over. The soldier gave her a look, but continued speaking; the soldiers all knew that Vin was Elend's primary bodyguard and confidant. Still, the man looked oddly concerned when he saw her.\n\n\"We... ah, don't want to be intrusive,\" the soldier said. \"That's why we've kept this quiet. We were just wondering if... everything is all right.\" He looked at Vin as he spoke.\n\n\"What is this about?\" Elend asked.\n\nThe guard turned back toward the king. \"The corpse in Lady Vin's room.\"\n\nThe'corpse\" was actually a skeleton. One completely picked clean, without a hint of blood-or even tissue-marring its shiny white surfaces. A good number of the bones were broken, however.\n\n\"I'm sorry, Mistress,\" OreSeur said, speaking low enough that only she could hear. \"I assumed that you were going to dispose of these.\"\n\nVin nodded. The skeleton was, of course, the one OreSeur had been using before she gave him the animal body. Finding the door unlocked-Vin's usual sign that she wanted a room cleaned-the maids had entered. Vin had stashed the bones in a basket, intending to deal with them later. Apparently, the maids had decided to check and see what was in the basket, and been somewhat surprised." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It's all right, Captain,\" Elend said to the young guard-Captain Demoux, second-in-command of the palace guard. Despite the fact that Ham shunned uniforms, this man seemed to take great pride in keeping his own uniform very neat and smart.\n\n\"You did well by keeping this quiet,\" Elend said. \"We knew about these bones already. They aren't a reason for concern.\"\n\nDemoux nodded. \"We figured it was something intentional.\" He didn't look at Vin as he spoke.\n\nIntentional, Vin thought. Great. I wonder what this man thinks I did. Few skaa knew what kandra were, and Demoux wouldn't know what to make of remains like these.\n\n\"Could you dispose of these quietly for me, Captain?\" Elend asked, nodding to the bones.\n\n\"Of course, Your Majesty,\" the guard said.\n\nHe probably assumes I ate the person or something, Vin thought with a sigh. Sucked the flesh right off his bones.\n\nWhich, actually, wasn't that far from the truth.\n\n\"Your Majesty,\" Demoux said. \"Would you like us to dispose of the other body as well?\"\n\nVin froze.\n\n\"Other one?\" Elend asked slowly.\n\nThe guard nodded. \"When we found this skeleton, we brought in some dogs to sniff about. The dogs didn't turn up any killers, but they did find another body. Just like this one-a set of bones, completely cleaned of flesh.\"\n\nVin and Elend shared a look. \"Show us,\" Elend said.\n\nDemoux nodded, and led them out of the room, giving a few whispered orders to one of his men. The four of them-three humans and one kandra-traveled a short distance down the palace hallway, toward a less used section of visitors' chambers. Demoux dismissed a soldier standing at a particular door, then led them inside." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"This body wasn't in a basket, Your Majesty,\" Demoux said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It was stuffed in aback closet. We'd probably never have found it without the dogs-they picked up the scent pretty easily, though I can't see how. These corpses are completely clean of flesh.\"\n\nAnd there it was. Another skeleton, like the first, sitting piled beside a bureau. Elend glanced at Vin, then turned to Demoux. \"Would you excuse us, Captain?\"\n\nThe young guard nodded, walking from the room and closing the door.\n\n\"Well?\" Elend said, turning to OreSeur.\n\n\"I do not know where this came from,\" the kandra said.\n\n\"But it is another kandra-eaten corpse,\" Vin said.\n\n\"Undoubtedly, Mistress,\" OreSeur said. \"The dogs found it because of the particular scent our digestive juices leave on recently excreted bones.\"\n\nElend and Vin shared a look.\n\n\"However,\" OreSeur said, \"it is probably not what you think. This man was probably killed far from here.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"They are discarded bones, Your Majesty,\" OreSeur said. \"The bones a kandra leaves behind...\"\n\n\"After he finds anew body,\" Vin finished.\n\n\"Yes, Mistress,\" OreSeur said.\n\nVin looked at Elend, who frowned. \"How long ago?\" he asked. \"Maybe the bones were left a year before, by my father's kandra.\"\n\n\"Perhaps, Your Majesty,\" OreSeur said. But he sounded hesitant. He padded over, sniffing at the bones. Vin picked one up herself, holding it to her nose. With tin, she easily picked out a sharp scent that reminded her of bile.\n\n\"It's very strong,\" she said, glancing at OreSeur." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He nodded. \"These bones haven't been here long, Your Majesty. A few hours at most. Perhaps even less.\"\n\n\"Which means we have another kandra somewhere in the palace,\" Elend said, looking a bit sick. \"One of my staff has been... eaten and replaced.\"\n\n\"Yes, Your Majesty,\" OreSeur said. \"There is noway to tell from these bones whom it could be, since these are the discards. The kandra would have taken the new bones, eating their flesh and wearing their clothing.\"\n\nElend nodded, standing. He met Vin's eyes, and she knew he was thinking the same thing she was. It was possible that a member of the palace staff had been replaced, which would mean a slight breach insecurity. There was afar more dangerous possibility, however.\n\nKandra were incomparable actors; OreSeur had imitated Lord Renoux so perfectly that even people who'd known him had been fooled. Such talent could have been used for the imitation of a maid or a servant. However, if an enemy had wanted to get a spy into Elend's closed meetings, he would need to replace a person far more important.\n\nIt would be someone that we haven't seen during the last few hours, Vin thought, dropping the bone. She, Elend, and OreSeur had been on the wall for most of the afternoon and evening-ever since the end of the Assembly meeting-but the city and palace had been in chaos since the second army had arrived. The messengers had had trouble finding Ham, and she still wasn't certain where Dockson was. In fact, she hadn't seen Clubs until he'd joined her and Elend on the wall just a bit before. And Spook had been the last to arrive.\n\nVin looked down at the pile of bones, feeling a sickening sense of unease. There was a very good chance that someone in their core team-a member of Kelsier's former band-was now an impostor." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "PART TWO" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "GHOSTS IN THE MIST" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It wasn't until years later that I became convinced that Alendi was the Hero of Ages. Hero of Ages: the one called Rabzeen in Khlennium, the Anamnesor.\n\nSavior." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A FORTRESS SATIN THE misty murk of evening.\n\nIt rested at the bottom of a large depression in the land. The steep-sided, craterlike valley was so wide that even in daylight Sazed would barely have been able to seethe other side. In the oncoming darkness, obscured by mist, the far edge of the massive hole was only a deep shadow.\n\nSazed knew very little about tactics and strategy; though his metalminds held dozens of books on the subjects, he had forgotten their contents in order to create the stored records. The little he did know told him that this fortress-the Conventical of Seran-was not very defensible. It relinquished the high ground, and the crater sides would provide an excellent location for siege engines to pelt rocks down at the walls.\n\nThis fortress, however, had not been built to defend against enemy soldiers. It had been built to provide solitude. The crater made it difficult to find, fora slight rise in the land around the crater's lip made it practically invisible until one drew near. No roads or paths marked the way, and travelers would have great trouble getting down the sheer sides.\n\nThe Inquisitors did not want visitors.\n\n\"Well?\" Marsh asked.\n\nHe and Sazed stood on the crater's northern lip, before a drop of several hundred feet. Sazed tapped his vision tinmind, drawing forth some of the eyesight he had stored within it. The edges of his vision fuzzed, but things directly in front of him seemed to grow much closer. He tapped a little more sight, ignoring the nausea that came from compounding so much vision.\n\nThe increased eyesight let him study the Conventical as if he stood before it. He could see each notch in the dark stonewalls-flat, broad, imposing. He could discern each bit of rust on the large steel plates that hung bolted into outside stones of the wall. He could see each lichen-encrusted corner and ash-stained ledge. There were no windows." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I do not know,\" Sazed said slowly, releasing his vision tinmind. \"It is not easy to say whether or not the fortress is inhabited. There is no motion, nor is there light. But, perhaps the Inquisitors are just hiding inside.\"\n\n\"No,\" Marsh said, his stiff voice uncomfortably loud in the evening air. \"They are gone.\"\n\n\"Why would they leave? This is a place of great strength, I think. Poor defense against an army, but a great defense against the chaos of the times.\"\n\nMarsh shook his head. \"They are gone.\"\n\n\"How are you so certain?\"\n\n\"I do not know.\"\n\n\"Where did they go, then?\"\n\nMarsh looked at him, then turned and glanced over his shoulder. \"North.\"\n\n\"Toward Luthadel?\" Sazed asked, frowning.\n\n\"Among other things,\" Marsh said. \"Come. I do not know if they will return, but we should exploit this opportunity.\"\n\nSazed nodded. This was why they had come, after all. Still, apart of him hesitated. He was a man of books and genteel service. Traveling the countryside to visit villages was enough removed from his experience to be discomforting. Infiltrating the Inquisitor stronghold...\n\nMarsh obviously didn't care about his companion's inner struggles. The Inquisitor turned and began to walk along the rim of the crater. Sazed threw his pack over his shoulder, then followed. They eventually arrived at a cage-like contraption, obviously meant to be lowered down to the bottom by ropes and pulleys. The cage sat locked in place at the top ledge, and Marsh stopped at its side, but did not enter.\n\n\"What?\" Sazed asked." }, { "from": "human", "value": "\"The pulley system,\" Marsh said." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The cage is meant to be lowered by men holding it from below.\"\n\nSazed nodded, realizing this was true. Marsh stepped forward and threw a lever. The cage fell. Ropes began to smoke, and pulleys squealed as the massive cage plummeted toward the chasm floor. A muted crash echoed against the rocks.\n\nIf there is anyone down there, Sazed thought, they now know we're here.\n\nMarsh turned toward him, the heads of his eye-spikes glistening slightly in the failing sunlight. \"Follow however you wish,\" he said. Then, he tied off the counterrope and began to climb down the ropes.\n\nSazed stepped up to the platform's edge, watching Marsh shimmy down the dangling rope into the shadowed, misty abyss. Then, Sazed knelt and opened his pack. He unhooked the large metal bracers around his upper and lower arms-his core copperminds. They contained the memories of a Keeper, the stored knowledge of centuries past. He reverently placed them to the side, then pulled a pair of much smaller bracelets-one iron, one pewter-from the pack. Metalminds fora warrior.\n\nDid Marsh understand how unskilled Sazed was in this area? Amazing strength did not a warrior make. Regardless, Sazed snapped the two bracelets around his ankles. Next, he pulled out two rings-tin and copper. These he slipped on his fingers.\n\nHe closed the pack and threw it over his shoulder, then picked up his core copperminds. He carefully located a good hiding place-a secluded hollow between two boulders-and slid them inside. Whatever happened below, he didn't want to risk them being taken and destroyed by the Inquisitors." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In order to fill a coppermind with memories, Sazed had listened to another Keeper recite his entire collection of histories, facts, and stories. Sazed had memorized each sentence, then shoved those memories into the coppermind for later retrieval. Sazed remembered very little of the actual experience-but he could draw forth any of the books or essays he wished, placing them back into his mind, gaining the ability to recollect them as crisply as when he'd first memorized them. He just had to have the bracers on.\n\nBeing without his copperminds made him anxious. He shook his head, walking back over to the platform. Marsh was moving very quickly down toward the chasm floor; like all Inquisitors, he had the powers of a Mistborn. Though how he had gotten those powers-and how he managed to live despite the spikes that had been driven directly through his brain-was a mystery. Marsh had never answered Sazed's questions on the subject.\n\nSazed called down, drawing Marsh's attention, then held up his pack and dropped it. Marsh reached out, and the pack lurched, Pulled by its metals into Marsh's hand. The Inquisitor threw it over his shoulder before continuing his descent.\n\nSazed nodded thankfully, then stepped off the platform. Ashe began to fall, he mentally reached into his ironmind, searching for the power he had stored therein. Filling a metalmind always had a cost: in order to store up sight, Sazed had been forced to spend weeks with poor eyesight. During that time, he had worn a tin bracelet, stowing away the excess sight for later use.\n\nIron was a bit different from the others. It didn't store up sight, strength, endurance-or even memories. It stored something completely different: weight." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This day, Sazed didn't tap the power stored inside the ironmind; that would have made him more heavy. Instead, he began to fill the ironmind, letting it suck away his weight. He felt a familiar sense of lightness-a sense that his own body wasn't pressing upon itself as forcefully.\n\nHis fall slowed. The Terris philosophers had much to say on using an ironmind. They explained that the power didn't actually change a person's bulk or size-it just somehow changed the way that the ground pulled against them. Sazed's fall didn't slow because of his decrease in weight-it slowed because he suddenly had a relatively large amount of surface exposed to the wind of his fall, and a lighter body to go along with it.\n\nRegardless of the scientific reasons, Sazed didn't fall as quickly. The thin metal bracelets on his legs were the heaviest things on his body, and they kept him pointed feet-downward. He held out his arms and bent his body slightly, letting the wind push against him. His descent was not terribly slow-not like that of a leaf or a feather. However, he didn't plummet either. Instead, he fell in a controlled-almost leisurely-manner. Clothing flapping, arms outspread, he passed Marsh, who watched with a curious expression.\n\nAshe approached the ground, Sazed tapped his pewtermind, drawing forth a tiny bit of strength to prepare. He hit the ground-but, because his body was so light, there was very little shock. He barely even needed to bend his knees to absorb the force of impact.\n\nHe stopped filling the ironmind, released his pewter, and waited quietly for Marsh. Beside him, the carrying cage lay in shambles. Sazed noticed several broken iron shackles with discomfort. Apparently, some of those who had visited the Conventical had not come by choice." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "By the time Marsh neared the bottom, the mists were thick in the air. Sazed had lived with them all of his life, and had never before felt uncomfortable in them. Yet, now he half expected the mists to begin choking him. To kill him, as they seemed to have done to old Jed, the unfortunate farmer whose death Sazed had investigated.\n\nMarsh dropped the last ten feet or so, landing with an Allomancer's increased agility. Even after spending so much time with Mistborn, Sazed was impressed with Allomancy's gifts. Of course, he'd never been jealous of them-not really. True, Allomancy was better in a fight; but it could not expand the mind, giving one access to the dreams, hopes, and beliefs of a thousand years of culture. It could not give the knowledge to treat a wound, or help teach a poor village to use modern fertilization techniques. The metalminds of Feruchemy weren't flamboyant, but they had afar more lasting value to society.\n\nBesides, Sazed knew a few tricks with Feruchemy that were bound to surprise even the most prepared warrior.\n\nMarsh handed him the pack. \"Come.\"\n\nSazed nodded, shouldering the pack and following the Inquisitor across the rocky ground. Walking next to Marsh was odd, for Sazed wasn't accustomed to being around people who were as tall as he was. Terrismen were tall by nature, and Sazed even more so: his arms and legs were a bit too long for his body, a medical condition brought on by his having been castrated as a very young boy. Though the Lord Ruler was dead, Terris culture would long feel the effects of his stewardship and breeding programs-the methods by which he had tried to breed Feruchemical powers out of the Terris people." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Keep going" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Conventical of Seran loomed in the darkness, looking even more ominous now that Sazed stood within the crater. Marsh strode right up to the front doors, and Sazed followed behind. He wasn't afraid, not really. Fear had never been a strong motivator in Sazed's life. However, he did worry. There were so few Keepers left; if he died, that was one fewer person who could travel, restoring lost truths and teaching the people.\n\nNot that I'm doing such at the moment anyway....\n\nMarsh regarded the massive steel doors. Then he threw his weight against one, obviously burning pewter to enhance his strength. Sazed joined him, pushing hard. The door did not budge.\n\nRegretting the expenditure of power, Sazed reached into his pewtermind and tapped strength. He used far more than he had when landing, and his muscles immediately increased in size. Unlike Allomancy, Feruchemy often had direct effects on a person's body. Beneath his robes, Sazed gained the bulk and build of a lifetime warrior, easily becoming twice as strong as he had been a moment earlier. With their combined effort, the two of them managed to push the door open.\n\nIt did not creak. It slid slowly, but evenly, inward, exposing along, dark hallway.\n\nSazed released his pewtermind, reverting to his normal self. Marsh strode into the Conventical, his feet kicking up the mist that had begun to pour through the open doorway.\n\n\"Marsh?\" Sazed asked.\n\nThe Inquisitor turned.\n\n\"I won't be able to see inside there.\"\n\n\"Your Feruchemy...\"\n\nSazed shook his head. \"It can let me see better in darkness, but only if there's some light to begin with. In addition, tapping that much sight would drain my tinmind in a matter of minutes. I'll need a lantern.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Marsh paused, then nodded. He turned into the darkness, quickly disappearing from Sazed's view.\n\nSo, Sazed thought, Inquisitors don't need light to see. It was to be expected: the spikes filled Marsh's entire sockets, completely destroying the eyeballs. Whatever strange power allowed Inquisitors to see, it apparently worked just as well in pure darkness as it did in daylight.\n\nMarsh returned a few moments later, carrying a lamp. From the chains Sazed had seen on the descent cage, Sazed suspected that the Inquisitors had kept a sizable group of slaves and servants to attend their needs. If that was the case, where had the people gone? Had they fled?\n\nSazed lit the lamp with a flint from his pack. The lamp's ghostly light illuminated a stark, daunting hallway. He stepped into the Conventical, holding the lamp high, and began to fill the small copper ring on his finger, the process transforming it into a coppermind.\n\n\"Large rooms,\" he whispered, \"without adornment.\" He didn't really need to say the words, but he'd found that speaking helped him form distinct memories. He could then place them into the coppermind.\n\n\"The Inquisitors, obviously, had a fondness for steel,\" he continued. \"This is not surprising, considering that their religion was often referred to as the Steel Ministry. The walls are hung with massive steel plates, which bear no rust, unlike the ones outside. Many of those here are not completely smooth, but instead crafted with some interesting patterns etched... almost buffed... into their surfaces.\"\n\nMarsh frowned, turning toward him. \"What are you doing?\"\n\nSazed held up his right hand, showing the copper ring. \"I must make an account of this visit. I will need to repeat this experience back to other Keepers when the opportunity presents itself. There is much to be learned from this place, I think.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Marsh turned away. \"You should not care about the Inquisitors. They are not worthy of your record.\"\n\n\"It isn't a matter of worthiness, Marsh,\" Sazed said, holding up his lamp to study a square pillar. \"Knowledge of all religions is valuable. I must make certain these things persist.\"\n\nSazed regarded the pillar fora moment, then closed his eyes and formed an image of it inside his head, which he then added to the coppermind. Visual memories, however, were less useful than spoken words. Visualizations faded very quickly once taken out of a coppermind, suffering from the mind's distortion. Plus, they could not be passed to other Keepers.\n\nMarsh didn't respond to Sazed's comment about religion; he just turned and walked deeper into the building. Sazed followed at a slower pace, speaking to himself, recording the words in his coppermind. It was an interesting experience. As soon as he spoke, he felt the thoughts sucked from his mind, leaving behind a blank hollowness. He had difficulty remembering the specifics of what he had just been saying. However, once he was done filling his coppermind, he would be able to tap those memories later and know them with crisp clarity.\n\n\"The room is tall,\" he said. \" There area few pillars, and they are also wrapped in steel. They are blocky and square, rather than round. I get a sense that this place was created by a people who cared little for subtlety. They ignored small details in favor of broad lines and full geometries.\n\n\"As we move beyond the main entryway, this architectural theme continues. There are no paintings on the walls, nor are there wooden adornments or tile floors. Instead, there are only the long, broad hallways with their harsh lines and reflective surfaces. The floor is constructed of steel squares, each a few feet across. They are... cold to the touch." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"It is strange not to seethe tapestries, stained-glass windows, and sculpted stones that are so common in Luthadel's architecture. There are no spires or vaultings here. Just squares and rectangles. Lines... so many lines. Nothing here is soft. No carpet, no rugs, no windows. It is a place for people who seethe world differently from ordinary men.\n\n\"Marsh walked straight down this massive hallway, as if oblivious to its decor. I will follow him, then comeback to record more later. He seems to be following something... something I cannot sense. Perhaps it is...\"\n\nSazed trailed off as he stepped around a bend and saw Marsh standing in the doorway of a large chamber. The lamplight flickered unevenly as Sazed's arm quivered.\n\nMarsh had found the servants.\n\nThey had been dead long enough that Sazed hadn't noticed the scent until he had come close. Perhaps that was what Marsh had been following; the senses of a man burning tin could be quite acute.\n\nThe Inquisitors had done their work thoroughly. These were the remnants of a slaughter. The room was large, but had only one exit, and the bodies were piled high near the back, killed by what looked like harsh sword or axe strokes. The servants had huddled up against the back wall as they died.\n\nSazed turned away.\n\nMarsh, however, remained in the doorway. \"There is a bad air about this place,\" he finally said.\n\n\"You have only just noticed that?\" Sazed asked.\n\nMarsh turned, glancing at him, demanding his gaze. \"We should not spend much time here. There are stairs at the end of the hallway behind us. I will go up-that is where the Inquisitors' quarters will be. If the information I seek is here, I will find it there. You may stay, or you may descend. However, do not follow me.\"" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Continue" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sazed frowned. \"Why?\"\n\n\"I must be alone here. I cannot explain it. I do not care if you witness Inquisitor atrocities. I just... do not wish to be with you when you do.\"\n\nSazed lowered his lamp, turning its light away from the horrific scene. \"Very well.\"\n\nMarsh turned, brushing past Sazed and disappearing into the dark hallway. And Sazed was alone.\n\nHe tried not to think about that very much. He returned to the main hallway, describing the slaughter to his coppermind before giving a more detailed explanation of the architecture and the art-if, indeed, that was what the different patterns on the wall plates could be called.\n\nAshe worked-his voice echoing quietly against the rigid architecture, his lamp a weak drop of light reflected in steel-his eyes were drawn toward the back of the hallway. There was a pool of darkness there. A stairwell, leading down.\n\nEven as he turned back to his description of one of the wall mounts, he knew that he would eventually find himself walking toward that darkness. It was the same as ever-the curiosity, the need to understand the unknown. This sense had driven him as a Keeper, had led him to Kelsier's company. His search for truths could never be completed, but neither could it be ignored. So, he eventually turned and approached the stairwell, his own whispering voice his only companion.\n\n\"The stairs are akin to what I saw in the hallway. They are broad and expansive, like the steps leading up to a temple or palace. Except, these go down, into darkness. They are large, likely cut from stone and then lined with steel. They are tall, meant fora determined stride.\n\n\"As I walk, I wonder what secrets the Inquisitors deemed worthy of hiding below the earth, in the basement of their stronghold. This entire building is a secret. What did they do here, in these massive hallways and open, empty rooms?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Proceed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"The stairwell ends in another large, square room. I've noticed something-there are no doors in the doorways here. Each room is open, visible to those outside. As I walk, peeking into the rooms beneath the earth, I find cavernous chambers with few furnishings. No libraries, no lounges. Several contain large metal blocks that could be altars.\n\n\"There is... something different herein this last room, at the back of the main landing. I'm not certain what to make of it. A torture chamber, perhaps? There are tables-metal tables-set into the floor. They are bloody, though there are no corpses. Blood flakes and powders at my feet-a lot of men have died in this room, I think. There don't appear to be torture implements beyond...\n\n\"Spikes. Like the ones in Inquisitor eyes. Massive, heavy things-like the spikes one might pound into the ground with a very large mallet. Some are tipped with blood, though I don't think I'll handle those. These other ones... yes, they look indistinguishable from the ones in Marsh's eyes. Yet, some are of different metals.\"\n\nSazed set the spike down on a table, metal clinking against metal. He shivered, scanning the room again. A place to make new Inquisitors, perhaps? He had a sudden horrific vision of the creatures-once only several dozen in number-having swelled their ranks during their months sequestered in the Conventical.\n\nBut that didn't seem right. They were a secretive, exclusive bunch. Where would they have found enough men worthy of joining their ranks? Why not make Inquisitors from the servants above, rather than just killing them?\n\nSazed had always suspected that a man had to bean Allomancer to be changed into an Inquisitor. Marsh's own experience substantiated that premise: Marsh had been a Seeker, a man who could burn bronze, before his transformation. Sazed looked again at the blood, the spikes, and the tables, and decided he wasn't certain that he wanted to know how one made anew Inquisitor." }, { "from": "human", "value": "Sazed was about to leave the room when his lamp revealed something at the back." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Another doorway.\n\nHe moved forward, trying to ignore the dried blood at his feet, and entered a chamber that didn't seem to match the rest of the Conventical's daunting architecture. It was cut directly into the stone, and it twisted down into a very small stairwell. Curious, Sazed walked down the set of worn stone steps. For the first time since entering the building, he felt cramped, and he had to stoop as he reached the bottom of the stairwell and entered a small chamber. He stood up straight, and held up his lamp to reveal...\n\nA wall. The room ended abruptly, and his light sparkled off the wall. It held a steel plate, like those above. This one was a good five feet across, and nearly as tall. And it bore writing. Suddenly interested, Sazed set down his pack and stepped forward, raising his lamp to read the top words on the wall.\n\nThe text was in Terris.\n\nIt was an old dialect, certainly, but one that Sazed could make out even without his language coppermind. His hand trembled as he read the words.\n\n\"Sazed.\"\n\nSazed jumped, nearly dropping the lamp. Marsh stood in the doorway behind him. Imperious, discomforting, and so dark. He fit this place, with its lines and hardness.\n\n\"The upstairs quarters are empty,\" Marsh said. \"This trip has been a waste-my brethren took anything of use with them.\"\n\n\"Not a waste, Marsh,\" Sazed said, turning back to the plate of text. He hadn't read all of it; he hadn't even gotten close. The script was written in a tight, cramped hand, its etchings coating the wall. The steel had preserved the words despite their obvious age. Sazed's heartbeat a little faster." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This was a fragment of text from before the Lord Ruler's reign. A fragment written by a Terris philosopher-a holy man. Despite ten centuries of searching, the Keepers had never fulfilled the original goal of their creation: they had never discovered their own Terris religion.\n\nThe Lord Ruler had squelched Terris religious teachings soon after his rise to power. His persecution of the Terris people-his own people-had been the most complete of his long reign, and the Keepers had never found more than vague fragments regarding what their own people had once believed.\n\n\"I have to copy this down, Marsh,\" Sazed said, reaching for his pack. Taking a visual memory wouldn't work-no man could stare at a wall of so much text, then remember the words. He could, perhaps, read them into his coppermind. However, he wanted a physical record, one that perfectly preserved the structure of lines and punctuation.\n\nMarsh shook his head. \"We will not stay here. I do not think we should even have come.\"\n\nSazed paused, looking up. Then he pulled several large sheets of paper from his pack. \"Very well, then,\" he said. \"I'll take a rubbing. That will be better anyway, I think. It will let me seethe text exactly as it was written.\"\n\nMarsh nodded, and Sazed got out his charcoal.\n\nThis discovery... he thought with excitement. This will be like Rashek's logbook. We are getting close!\n\nHowever, even as he began the rubbing-his hands moving carefully and precisely-another thought occurred to him. With a text like this in his possession, his sense of duty would no longer let him wander the villages. He had to return to the north to share what he had found, lest he die and this text be lost. He had to go to Terris." }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Next" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Or... to Luthadel. From there he could send messages north. He had a valid excuse to get back to the center of action, to seethe other crewmembers again.\n\nWhy did that make him feel even more guilty?" }, { "from": "human", "value": "> Start Chapter" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When I finally had the realization-finally connected all of the signs of the Anticipation to Alendi-I was so excited. Yet, when I announced my discovery to the other Worldbringers, I was met with scorn.\n\nOh, how I wish that I had listened to them." } ]

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