would be no travelers. There hadn't even been any animals. And so the gates remain open, because to shut them would be a waste of time and a bother. And now the people stand before the open gates, themselves travelers, and wait in silence for their journey to commence.
Their king and prince arrive, accompanied by the army, the soldiers bearing kairn grass torches. Myself—necromancer to the king—and my fellow necromancers and apprentices walk behind. After us trail the palace servants bearing heavy bundles containing clothes and food. One, shambling close behind me, carries a box filled with books.
The king comes to a halt near the open gates. Taking one of the torches from a soldier, His Majesty holds it high. Its light illuminates a small portion of the dark city. He looks out across it. The people turn and look out across it. I turn.
We see wide streets winding among buildings created out of the stone of Abarrach. The gleaming white marble exteriors, decorated with runes whose meanings no one now remembers, reflect back to us the light of our torches. Welook upward, to a rise in the cavern floor, to the palace. We can't see it now. It is shrouded in darkness. But we can see a light, a tiny light, burning in one of the windows.
“I left the lamp,” the king announces, his voice loud and unusually strong, “to light the way for our return.”
The people cheer, because they know he wants them to cheer. But the cheers die away soon, too soon; more than a few cut off by tears.
“The gas fueling that lamp will last about thirty cycles,” I remark in a low voice, coming to take my place at the prince's side.
“Be silent!” Edmund rebukes me. “It made my father happy.”
“You cannot silence the truth, Your Highness. You can't silence reality,” I remind him. He does not reply.
“We leave Kairn Telest now,” the king was continuing, holding the torch high above his head, “but we will be back with newfound wealth. And we will make our realm more glorious and more beautiful than ever.”
No one cheers. No one has the heart.
The people of Kairn Telest begin to file out of their city. They travel mostly on foot, carrying their clothes and food wrapped in bundles, though some pull crude carts bearing possessions and those who cannot walk: the infirm, the elderly, small children. Beasts of burden, once used to draw the carts, have long since died off; their flesh consumed for food, their fur used to protect the people from the bitter cold.
Our king is the last to leave. He walks out of the gates without a backward glance, his eyes facing forward confidently to the future, to a new life. His stride is firm, his stance upright. The people, looking at him, grow hopeful. They form an aisle along the road and now there are cheers and now the cheers are heartfelt. The king walks among them, his face alight with dignity.
“Come, Edmund,” he commands. The prince leaves me, takes his place at his father's side.
He and his father walk among the people to the head ofthe line. Holding his torch aloft, the king of Kairn Telest leads his people forth.
A detail of soldiers remains after the others have gone. I wait with them, curious to know their final orders.
It takes them some time and a considerable amount of effort, but at last they succeed in pulling shut the gates, gates marked with runes that no one remembers and that, now, as they march off with the torches, no one can see in the darkness.
CHAPTER4
KAIRN TELEST,
ABARRACH
I AM WRITING NOW, UNDER ALMOST IMPOSSIBLE CONDITIONS . I explain this to anyone who may perhaps read this volume at a later date and wonder both at the change in style and the change in the handwriting. No, I have not suddenly grown old and feeble, nor am I plagued by illness. The letters straggle across the page because I am forced to write by the dim light of a flickering torch. The only surface I have for a tablet is a slab of flint, foraged for me by one of the soldiers. My magic
Their king and prince arrive, accompanied by the army, the soldiers bearing kairn grass torches. Myself—necromancer to the king—and my fellow necromancers and apprentices walk behind. After us trail the palace servants bearing heavy bundles containing clothes and food. One, shambling close behind me, carries a box filled with books.
The king comes to a halt near the open gates. Taking one of the torches from a soldier, His Majesty holds it high. Its light illuminates a small portion of the dark city. He looks out across it. The people turn and look out across it. I turn.
We see wide streets winding among buildings created out of the stone of Abarrach. The gleaming white marble exteriors, decorated with runes whose meanings no one now remembers, reflect back to us the light of our torches. Welook upward, to a rise in the cavern floor, to the palace. We can't see it now. It is shrouded in darkness. But we can see a light, a tiny light, burning in one of the windows.
“I left the lamp,” the king announces, his voice loud and unusually strong, “to light the way for our return.”
The people cheer, because they know he wants them to cheer. But the cheers die away soon, too soon; more than a few cut off by tears.
“The gas fueling that lamp will last about thirty cycles,” I remark in a low voice, coming to take my place at the prince's side.
“Be silent!” Edmund rebukes me. “It made my father happy.”
“You cannot silence the truth, Your Highness. You can't silence reality,” I remind him. He does not reply.
“We leave Kairn Telest now,” the king was continuing, holding the torch high above his head, “but we will be back with newfound wealth. And we will make our realm more glorious and more beautiful than ever.”
No one cheers. No one has the heart.
The people of Kairn Telest begin to file out of their city. They travel mostly on foot, carrying their clothes and food wrapped in bundles, though some pull crude carts bearing possessions and those who cannot walk: the infirm, the elderly, small children. Beasts of burden, once used to draw the carts, have long since died off; their flesh consumed for food, their fur used to protect the people from the bitter cold.
Our king is the last to leave. He walks out of the gates without a backward glance, his eyes facing forward confidently to the future, to a new life. His stride is firm, his stance upright. The people, looking at him, grow hopeful. They form an aisle along the road and now there are cheers and now the cheers are heartfelt. The king walks among them, his face alight with dignity.
“Come, Edmund,” he commands. The prince leaves me, takes his place at his father's side.
He and his father walk among the people to the head ofthe line. Holding his torch aloft, the king of Kairn Telest leads his people forth.
A detail of soldiers remains after the others have gone. I wait with them, curious to know their final orders.
It takes them some time and a considerable amount of effort, but at last they succeed in pulling shut the gates, gates marked with runes that no one remembers and that, now, as they march off with the torches, no one can see in the darkness.
CHAPTER4
KAIRN TELEST,
ABARRACH
I AM WRITING NOW, UNDER ALMOST IMPOSSIBLE CONDITIONS . I explain this to anyone who may perhaps read this volume at a later date and wonder both at the change in style and the change in the handwriting. No, I have not suddenly grown old and feeble, nor am I plagued by illness. The letters straggle across the page because I am forced to write by the dim light of a flickering torch. The only surface I have for a tablet is a slab of flint, foraged for me by one of the soldiers. My magic
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