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god. I’ll spare you, though it’s the only time I’ve had an excuse to make a really good rhyme for “scarf.” Finally, after some prodding, I turned from my newfound muse and settled down on the deck near Tress. She would have preferred to work with me belowdecks, out of sight, but I had been stubborn. I’d wanted to watch...
“and you could think of the way to break your curse. I could ask you, ‘Is this letter in the word?’ Theoretically, you won’t be able to say yes if it were.” This one wouldn’t have worked. It was an easy enough workaround that the Sorceress had thought of it, and had basically “programmed” the curse to forbid the person...
met. Interestingly, most also ascribe—or in their past used to ascribe—volition to storms. They never simply are. They want something. The weather patterns on Tress’s world aren’t specifically Invested—so they aren’t self-aware. But you wouldn’t have known that from the way the rain came straight toward the Crow’s Song...
from their spores had set the sea rippling, and their retreat doubled that, making it billow and quake. You don’t normally get true waves on the spore seas—not like you do on liquid oceans—but when you do, they’re extremely dangerous. The Crow’s Song shook like the ice in a good cocktail, then tipped to the side like t...
construct. We define it. Nature doesn’t care; it sees everything as a chemical process. It couldn’t care in the slightest that a bunch of carbon, hydrogen, and oxygen one day decided it would really prefer to sit on a sofa rather than a bench. Therefore, something lives if we decide it does. To us on that ship, that da...
were personal, yet somehow abstract at the same time.. “It’s really interesting,” he was telling her, “how much we can smell of the world that you don’t seem to be able to. Everyone’s shoes smell different. Did you know that?” “I’d have thought they all smelled the same.” “Not to a rat!” Huck said, sitting on the table...
down below. It might, Tress explained, help her understand how to make better roseite patches in the future. It was an unremarkable lie, but if Laggart saw through it, he likely thought she was trying to make work to stay busy. The cannonmaster gave his permission and said he’d keep anyone from bothering her. The excha...
her mistake had merely cost her a little dignity—traded away for the pleasure of knowing what it felt like to be a grape trellis. “In my bag,” Tress said, still chuckling. “Fetch me the silver knife.” As Huck scrambled to obey, Tress noticed the ends of the vines were still growing. As before, when she thought about th...
delicious theme. And—though one might not believe it after experiencing the variegated ways the Dougs could assault a language—the crew was not stupid. They saw that Tress was helping Fort. And suddenly their meals contained food rather than something merely—by the strictest definition of the word—edible. So when they ...
a bin by the wall. Neat and organized chests for items under the bed. And a picture hanging above the porthole, lit by a flickering desk lamp. It was a drawing; these people hadn’t discovered photography yet. But it was a good one, drawn expertly but quickly by a street artist in the zephyr capital. It depicted a tall,...
do?” “Yes. Er, I should probably have told you earlier. The captain is taking us to see the dragon.” “Xisis?” Salay said, spinning again in her seat. “Is he real?” “Ulaam says he is. And the captain has books that claim the legends are real.” “Well, Ulaam would probably know,” Salay said, rubbing her chin. “But why vis...
alone—nor was it surprising that the more she learned, the less afraid she had become. It is that way with most topics, as fear and knowledge often play on different sides of the net. There are obviously exceptions. Certain individual humans, like certain sausages, break this convention. While neither larger group is c...
your friend is out of your reach. That you should give up on this quest and take care of yourself.” She didn’t respond, though the anger she felt at his words manifested in the vines tightening on her fingers—as if they too were frustrated. She forced herself to relax as Huck dribbled another spoonful of water on the v...
has rigged up some way to continuously feed the creatures that pop out of the spores. They roam and rove the oceans—midnight monsters the size of ships. You remember that thing you created to watch Crow? You think you could fight a hundred of those attacking the ship?” That…did seem daunting. The vines on Tress’s finge...
this should be sufficient. Her vines intercept physical danger, but they don’t care if she’s immobilized. Their needs and hers do not entirely align, hmmm? So long as she keeps living to provide them with water, they don’t care what happens to her.” “Do you think it’s overkill?” Tress asked. “If what you say is true, w...
Ever.” “Well, that’s quite definitive,” he said. “You’ve grown rather forceful, hmmmm? I remember when you first arrived, and you seemed embarrassed to turn me down.” “I’m not any different now. I’m simply more desperate.” “More desperate than those first few days on the ship?” he asked. Tress hesitated, thinking back ...
to keep myself from vomiting forth another poem. She must have seen something in my eyes, the fragment of lucidity I still possessed. “I’m terrified,” she repeated. “Not only for everyone else, though I do feel that. I’m scared for myself and what Crow is going to do to me. I can’t beat her. Deep down, I know it.” I ra...
and the barrel of water from the cannon station. Go! Go!” Tress went running for her room, shoving past Laggart on the steps. He bellowed after her, but she wasn’t of a mind to listen. She had minutes, maybe, until the rain arrived and their story ended. Unless Tress could add another chapter through sheer force of wil...
side to the spores.” She took a deep breath. “Then tie the other rope around me and do the same.” Everyone in the group turned, pointedly, and stared at her. Then Salay barked orders, and the crew saw it done. Ann personally lowered the barrel, while Fort and a few Dougs gingerly lowered Tress. She touched down, feelin...
wind, and the embrace of the abyss. On Tress’s world, it’s not the water below that is the danger, but the water above. However, the nightmare is the same, born of the sure knowledge that the very thing you sail, the very thing that carries you and gives your life meaning, will someday try to kill you. Twin streams of ...
silver-edged axes, the Dougs would be able to loosen the vessel, then cut them free once the seethe returned and the tree sank. They’d practiced it as a way to escape being tangled up during a cannon battle. So Crow wasn’t worried about the ship. Or about reaching the dragon, as the lair was very close now. She’d told ...
wished she could wither away before their expectations. They could use her flaking soul to brew some more tea. “Maybe we shouldn’t,” Tress said softly. “What?” Ann said. “Girl, she’s going to trade you.” “I’m not losing another crewmember,” Salay said. Fort studied her, thoughtful. “The crew is alive by a miracle,” Tre...
trying to restrain her. Fortunately, I’ve devised a weapon that might work. It…” What was that? “It…” Tress shivered. She felt something. A familiar itch, distinct as the scent of her mother’s bread. Without thinking, she reached to the side, into the shadows underneath the overhang of Fort’s counter. Some of the darkn...
hands bloody. He just smiled and wagged the pistol’s tip. Reluctantly, Tress led the way, and the five of them emerged on deck. The Crimson Moon hung ominous in the night sky, pouring spores down in a vast haze—like the misty sheet of rain you might get beneath clouds on another planet. Here, the bright moonlight made ...
for the guns. Crow kicked the leg out from the table—scattering the weapons to the deck—then surged forward and slammed her elbow into Fort’s face. Tress had never heard anything quite like the crunch that made. The sharp crack of breaking cinnamon sticks mixed with the dull thud of tenderizing a gull’s breast. The sou...
in her eyes—still stunned from the punch—Tress saw the captain fire it and hit Ann in the chest. The flare connected with a thump, and her body cushioned the trigger enough to prevent it from going off. So it fell to the deck, and there—hitting tip-down—it released its explosion of vines to wrap around Ann. “For cheati...
saw Salay looking at her. Then Tress felt worthless instead. Salay was holding her thigh, where blood was seeping through the makeshift bandage. Through her pain, she was looking to Tress, pleadingly. Tress turned away. At that moment, Salay finally understood. She finally believed. “You were never one, were you?” “No,...
Moon’s glow…it made her knees grow weak. Crow shoved her forward anyway, causing Tress to stumble into the vast crimson chamber, then fall to her knees. She choked back her emotions, as tears could be fatal if those spores could indeed express their aethers. But she couldn’t help curling up, trembling. For a time, she ...
of all six limbs, up the sides of the neck, and formed two burnished horns, accompanied by a line of spikes down the back—more subdued, the subjects to the regal majesty of those horns. There were other mortals in the dragon’s house, though they were not allowed in the entry hall when supplicants arrived. Xisis did not...
of Tress. “Great dragon,” Crow said, “this girl is the servant brought to be your payment. I am the captain of the ship!” “So you’re saying you’re the more valuable prize,” Tress said, rubbing at her throat where Crow’s nails had scored her. “I do prefer my servants to be of a certain quality,” Xisis said. His voice wa...
ground quickly.” He gestured to Crow. “I cannot see a reason why I’d want this piece of filth in my domain when I could have someone even-tempered, well-liked, and skilled.” “You should have tried to be more awful, girl,” Crow said. “I warned you that this life was not for you.” “I…” Tress took a deep breath, looking u...
“Thank you,” Tress said. Crow, in turn, began to claw at the gag, her eyes wide. The strange black cloth wrapped her further, then pulled her back tight against the pillar. “She really is awful, isn’t she?” the dragon said. “I’m afraid so, sir,” Tress said. “Well, I suppose I do need someone to scrub floors, now that I...
to make an important deal, make certain your payment can’t speak for itself.” You’d be surprised how often that advice has been relevant during my travels. “Here,” Tress said, handing one of the small packages to Ann. “The dragon couldn’t help me with my problem, so I got this for you.” The woman took it, frowning. But...
said. “See? I’m good at the job.” “The Midnight is dangerous,” Tress said. “The dragon wasn’t willing to give me any help. Even he fears the Sorceress.” “Well,” Salay said, “we’ll just have to figure out how to cross the Midnight like we did the Crimson, Captain. Do we set sail now, or wait for the morning?” Other obje...
can’t have anyone stepping on you! You’re a hero! The rat perked up. “Yeah,” Ann said. “And we’ve got to do something about that cat—can’t let it roam free! I’ll build a cage or something for it, keep it in my room until the next port.” All turned to Salay, who did her best to look calm and commanding despite her crutc...
ooze into all the little nooks. Because we adapt, we sometimes don’t recognize how twisted, uncomfortable, or downright wrong the container is that we’ve been told to inhabit. We can keep going that way for a while. We can pretend we fit that jug, awkward nooks and all. But the longer we do, the worse it gets. The more...
men, an entire legion of them, who can’t be harmed in any way. I started working on a way to distract them, until I realized you already solved this problem, Tress. The new sign was an improvement over the other. Lines of text disappeared at the top, replaced with new ones at the bottom, so he didn’t have to stop—he co...
this one too.” “Growing a tree of verdant vines?” Tress said. “To reach the top, and get in that way? I thought of that, Ann, but surely the Sorceress keeps the door locked.” But not the window, Fort said. Where she lets out her ravens. “Far too small.” For a human, he wrote. Their eyes turned toward Huck, who stood be...
heads in question. However, when someone tries, it makes others more willing to try. And when you taste a little success—even vicariously—it can act as a mental laxative. Or if you prefer, a little success is the metaphoric bang on the front of the mental vending machine that jostles loose the stuck ideas. Tress’s eyes...
moved to her instead, and let her take over. She was closer to it, which Tress thought was key. She took complete control, then severed the bond before she could be drawn into the thing’s eyes and experience life as if she were a midnight cup. It popped and evaporated, leaving smoke, then nothing. Fort gasped, then too...
a little more. Those were words with gristle. Laggart was not a smart man. True, the things he lectured people on could fill a dictionary—but what he actually knew would barely fill a postcard. That said, he wasn’t an idiot either. He settled somewhere between smart and stupid, perched on the very peak of the bell curv...
her to the hold of the ship, where I sat in chains, happily thinking of great conversation starters like politics, religion, and your uncle’s overtly racist views. I experienced my tawdry ruminations among the remnants of the ship’s food stores. An alarmingly small collection now, as I’d happily dumped the rest of the ...
We must make sail for the Verdant Sea, restock, then…” He trailed off, meeting her eyes. He wilted. “Hoid talked, didn’t he?” “You’re remarkably good at reading human emotions,” she said. “For a rat.” “Well, emotions are emotions,” he said. “Doesn’t matter the species. Fear, concern, anxiousness.” “Betrayal?” she asked...
you don’t mind. Let’s keep sailing, and go save that man of yours.” “But, the food…” Tress said. “Pardon, Captain,” another Doug said, “but we can eat verdant for a little while.” “Agreed,” said another. “If it helps you, we can eat weeds for a few weeks.” “Wait. You can eat verdant vines?” Tress asked. The Dougs were ...
sailed inexorably toward the terrible Midnight Moon, until it reached the border. That place where spores mingled, like a scar that was festering and black on one side. A limb that had suffered full necrosis. Black spores, stretching to infinity. Tress watched from the quarterdeck, feeling an unnatural quiet as the Dou...
then turned and regarded her, grey-skinned fingers laced in front of him as he leaned against the counter. “Speak, please.” “Ulaam,” she said, “I can’t defeat the Sorceress.” “No, of course you can’t,” he said. “All of the others are expecting me to. And…I’m increasingly terrified I’ll let them down.” “Ah, well then,” ...
small room. “We are going to die. This quest is foolishness! When it was only me who was risking my life for Charlie, that was bad enough. I can’t force the rest to join me.” “You aren’t forcing them, Tress,” Ulaam said. He finally rose and began to make the tea. “Have you seen how they walk these days? How they hold t...
out alive, it is that man. I tell no joke or exaggeration in this, Tress. When he wants to, there are few people in the entire cosmere who can influence events like our dear friend with the inappropriate undergarments.” I’ll have you know I owned those briefs before the curse, and I stand by the purchase. Tress conside...
she thought, am these two cups. One side utilitarian, one side dreaming. Opposites. Yet both served the same function. Remarkable. That butterfly, though, had gone out on the ocean alone. It hadn’t brought an entire crew with it to die. She took a deep breath and tied her hair back, then took the two cups and stalked o...
in a little way and skirt the edge of the border for a while. Try to attract one of these monsters. Then we trap it with verdant spores and haul it on board. From there, we can retreat to the Crimson and take our time experimenting on it.” “Too dangerous,” Tress said. “More dangerous than you going in alone?” “Too dang...
heard the part about helping the crew. About protecting them. And so, she doubled down. “Thank you, Salay,” Tress said. “Now, please prepare the launch. I will be going alone into the Midnight Sea to test my theories about controlling the spore monsters there.” The sigh this time was accompanied by a barely contained g...
worse than stressful—yet empty—time. Free time that you can’t use in any way always feels like nature itself is mocking you. Finally though, Tress spotted movement. The Midnight Essence had gotten alarmingly close to her without being noticed. Perhaps because it was black upon black, though the fact that it was moving ...
see, there was too much sea to cover for the Sorceress to pay attention to each creature individually. She made them in batches, then sent them out with orders, maintaining only a loose control. Indeed, if she’d tried to actively direct all of these things, even she would have been quickly dehydrated and killed. Beyond...
rising from the spores. In this case, the slate-grey stone skerry was suspiciously circular, and perhaps two hundred yards wide. A few trees tried to spruce up the landscape but failed, both by being too intermittent and by not being the right species. Instead they were spindly, gnarled things with tufts of leaves grow...
hadn’t dawned yet, but the glow was on the horizon. The midnight monsters steered the boat in an odd way as they approached the island, and Tress soon observed why. Long, jagged lines of stone cut up through the sea here, like sandbars with teeth. The Sorceress had chosen her island deliberately; the approach to the pl...
a loud voice, spoke. “As I was commanded, I’ve returned to the tower with a captive to present to the Sorceress. Magic door, please open! Uh, I was told—” The door swung open on its own. “Right,” he said. “Good.” He scurried in, then looked down at himself, then back at Tress. Uncertain what would happen next. The midn...
woman herself sat at her desk near the bookshelves, holding a fluffy white cat and idly doing something on her laptop. Or, I mean, her “magical seeing board” that let her watch events outside, as well as occasionally play a mystical card game to pass the time. Her skin glowed, and she had a silvery effervescence to her...
only ways to be sure about them, you know. That or a good fire.” The Sorceress strolled through the center of the circular room, walking across the map of the world inscribed on the floor. Offworlders called the place Lumar, which is a pretty good translation of the name used by several native languages. Tress had neve...
please open the bridge’s holding chamber.” “As you wish,” a monotone voice said. It was the spirit that inhabited this place, you see, obeying the will of its owner. Yes, like the speaking minds inhabiting the ships you’ve seen landing on your planet. One of the doors at the side of the room clicked audibly, then swung...
and gardening?” It was here—right at the bottom of the steps, listening to those questions from Charlie—-that Tress’s sadness assaulted her. It fought dirty, you see, as sadness usually does. Going for the kidneys. Or the heart. Charlie didn’t seem like he’d changed at all. That was good. She’d worried his captivity wo...
he loves me.” The room fell still save for one sound. Sniffling. Tress approached the desk and found Huck the rat behind it. He looked up at her, his eyes red. Unlike the doppelganger she’d been given, Huck was a mess. Shivering and crying as he curled up in a ball. Tress knelt. “Charlie…” “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I...
Then his head cocked. The same thought occurred to the two of them simultaneously. “Charlie,” she said, “if the way to break your curse was to bring the person you love to the Sorceress, why are you still a rat? Is it because… Is there someone else you love?” “No!” he said. “It’s you. But…” “It’s because,” the Sorceres...
first midnight monsters had appeared. Three of them slithered up on deck, completely impervious to normal weapons, looking for warm bodies and blood to feast upon. For liquid, for water. For death. Instead they found a large man standing at the center of the deck surrounded by barrels of water. Each with a keg of spore...
They should have stayed away!” “Like you should have stayed away?” Charlie said. “Instead of coming for me?” Tress looked at him sitting in her palm, tears in her eyes. And the avalanche started to tremble. She realized that she was the fool. Not for coming to save Charlie—but for trying to keep others from following t...
me. “We’ll do it,” Salay said. “We’re coming.” “Don’t get yourselves hurt!” Tress said. “Captain,” Ann said, “we’re going to save you. Because you deserve it. You remember, you once told me somethin’ that made me see the world in an entirely new way.” “And that was?” Tress asked. “‘Here, try on these spectacles.’” Ann,...
of light erupted from them and crossed the room, slamming Tress back against the wall and holding her there. A crash and a clank sounded as two cups tumbled free of their perches. The one with the butterfly shattered. The other bounced, gaining a new dent. The Sorceress turned back to mobilizing her armies. Charlie—who...
had stolen Huck’s tiny pirate hat, thinking he didn’t deserve it. Which, strictly speaking, was wrong. Can you really be mad at a pirate for stabbing you in the back? It looked much worse on me. So of course I wore it clipped in place. I was grinning wildly, wind in my hair, eyes wide—because I figured they might dry o...
you can’t complete your turns. Too much, and you end up kissing the rocks. That day though, the ship appeared to obey neither wave nor wind, spore nor shoal. The ship obeyed Salay, and for a short transcendent moment, we seemed not on a ship at all. We rode upon her willpower made manifest, dodging rocks by inches, lea...
was something far more mundane, but equally pernicious. Ann didn’t miss just because she had poor eyesight. She missed because of momentum. There’s an opposite force in life to the avalanche Tress was feeling. There’s always an opposition, you see. A Push for every Pull, an old adversary of mine always says. Sometimes ...
not because she’d assumed she would succeed, but because something had to be done. And though many things had gone wrong on her quest, she’d somehow always managed to make them go right too. She had found her repeated success almost uncomfortably consistent. In the same way that if you keep rolling sixes, you start to ...
be trapped outside the tower. And the story would end there. Tress looked to Charlie. “I’m sorry. That in the end, we got captured. It’s like we said would happen, isn’t it?” He nodded. “But Tress,” he said, “I remember another part of that conversation. Something about shining armor.” “I don’t think they make armor in...
shower of light. Filling the room with white energy that momentarily blotted out all possible sensation. When it faded, I stood between Tress and the Sorceress—with the key officers of the Crow’s Song behind me and a little rat on my shoulder—my hands pressed forward, having created an Invested shield of light to shelt...
are you to make demands of me?” In response, Salay and Fort pulled pistols on her. Ann somehow got out three at once. Charlie growled. It wasn’t very intimidating, but it made him feel good to contribute. Tress didn’t bother with a gun. She nudged me. “Cabin boy,” she said, “zap her or something.” “You’re giving me ord...
docks as it slowed, on account of its new apprentice helmsman being inexperienced. Salay’s father looked chagrined, but Salay merely smiled and gave him a few pointers. The ship was not the Crow’s Song. The crew had decided that a fresh start would help them in their new lives, and besides, the captain had wanted a few...
both been changed by their journeys—but in complementary ways. Tress remained captain and expert sprouter, while Charlie turned out to be an extremely capable valet and a passable ship’s storyteller and musician, a well-versed man indeed. With a few tips, he wasn’t so boring after all. Secretly, I’ll tell you that you ...
and the pay…well, it makes up for the rest. Tress stepped back onto the deck of her ship, meeting a newly beclothed Charlie. She nodded down toward his father on the dock. “Want to say hello?” “No thank you,” Charlie said. “Did you leave Mother’s letter?” (The duchess, it should be noted, had moved away from the island...
to William Goldman’s incredible book The Princess Bride. It’s the closest thing I know of to the tone I was trying for. (Though Good Omens by the late Sir Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman is another really good comparison book for what I wanted to accomplish.) I showed the film of The Princess Bride to my family during ...
saving the files in a hidden place on the cloud where my team couldn’t see them. But I wanted something that was just for me and for my wife. Something I could share with her, and not worry about deadlines or expectations. I just wanted to write, free of business constraints or fan expectations. To see where the story ...
an early hour; he didn't feel even a bit chilly as he threw on his robe, then pulled the servant's cord beside his bed, indicating that he wanted breakfast. That was another odd thing. He was hungry-very hungry. Almost ravenous. He had never liked large breakfasts, but this morning he found himself waiting impatiently ...
were lined with guardhouses and soldiers-men intended not to keep enemies out of the city, but to keep its inhabitants from escaping. Since the Reod,1 every person taken by the Shaod had been thrown into Elantris to rot: the fallen city had become an expansive tomb for those whose bodies had forgotten how to die. Raode...
It has already begun. In a few weeks I will be nothing more than a dejected body, a corpse whimpering in the corner. A slight motion on the other side of the courtyard brought Raoden out of his self-pity. Some Elantrians were crouching in a shadowed doorway across from him. He couldn't make out much from their silhouet...
disbelief that ran across the boy's face was somehow more disturbing than the despair it had replaced. This creature had given up hope long ago; he probably begged out of habit rather than expectation. Raoden left the boy behind, turning to continue down the small street. He had hoped that the city would grow less grue...
behind drew his attention: one of the others had located the tiny skin of wine. The struggle that ensued apparently drove all thoughts of Raoden From the men's minds, and the five were soon gone-four chasing after the one who had been fortunate, or foolish, enough to escape with the precious liquor. Raoden sat in the d...
from his eyes. “We don't. We're either very careful, or we end up like those rulos you saw in the courtyard.” “In the courtyard.... Idos Domi!” Raoden pulled himself to his feet and hobbled toward the courtyard. He found the beggar boy in the same location, near the mouth of the alley. He was still alive ... in a way. ...
lack the proper implements to make fire, but Galladon forbade it. “We can't make a decision like that. What if he really has no soul? What if he stopped existing when we burned his body? To many, an existence of agony is better than no existence at all.” So, they left the boy where he had fallen-Galladon doing so witho...
men who attacked me, I'd guess the hunger only gets worse.” Raoden reached under his grime-stained sacrificial robe, pulling out a thin object and holding it up for Galladon to see. A piece of dried meat. Galladon's eyes opened all the way, his face changing from bored to interested. There was a glint in his eyes-a bit...
husband. In fact, when Sarene had left her homeland, she and Raoden had only been engaged. She had assumed that the kingdom of Arelon would wait to hold the wedding until she actually arrived. Where she came from, at least, it was expected that both partners would be present when they were married. “I never liked that ...
Prince Raoden. She'd wanted a few1 days, at least, to spend time with him privately and in person. Her secrecy, however, had worked against her. “Tell me, Ashe,” she said. “How long do Arelish people customarily wait between a person's death and their burial?” “I'm not sure, my lady,” Ashe confessed. “I left Arelon lon...
“Is something wrong?” Sarene waved to the Seon and walked back toward their carriage. “I don't know,” she said quietly. “Something just doesn't feel right here, Ashe.” “You have a suspicious nature, my lady,” Ashe pointed out. “Why isn't Iadon having a vigil for his son? Ketol said he was holding court, as if his own s...
expansive, with large wings and pointed roofs, following Duladen construction. Others were more like castles, their stone walls looking as if they had been directly transported from the militaristic countryside of Fjorden. The mansions all shared one thing, however—wealth. The people of this country might be starving, ...
if we had forged strong ties with the new Arelish government ten years ago.” “Your father was afraid their political turmoil would infect Teod,” Ashe said. “Not to mention the Reod—no one was certain that whatever struck the Elantrians wouldn't affect normal people as well.” The carriage slowed, and Sarene sighed, lett...
Embroidery or whatever else it is that entertains you women.” With that, the king turned to his next appointment—a group of merchants. Sarene stood in midcurtsy, stunned at Iadon's complete lack of courtesy. Only years of courtly training kept her jaw from dropping. Quick but unassertive, the woman Iadon had ordered—Qu...
was acting far too cheerful for a woman who had just lost her son. “Here is your room, dear. We unpacked your things, and added some as well. You have clothing in every color, even yellow, 1though I can't imagine why you would want to wear it. Horrid color. Not that your hair is horrid, of course. Blonde isn't the same...
is in mourning. Take the queen, for instance. She didn't appear distraught when she spoke to me—you'd think she would be at least a little bothered by the fact that her son died yesterday.” “There is a simple explanation for that, my lady. Queen Eshen is not Prince Raoden's mother. Raoden was born of Iadon's first wife...
of disbelieving nervousness, both excited and apprehensive at the prospect of meeting the man who was to become her husband. More excited, however, than apprehensive. She had been away from Teod many times, but she had always gone with others from her homeland. This time she had come by herself, traveling ahead of the ...
stay. This was my idea, and Raoden's death doesn't change the fact that we need this alliance. Besides, returning home would break tradition—we both know that Iadon is my father now. It woul1d be unseemly for you to take me back into your household.” “I will always be your father, 'Ene. Domi curse the customs—Teod will...
Kae's more peripheral structures looked like they were built almost against Elantris's wall. This was not a nation accustomed to war. Yet, of all the kingdoms on the Syclan 1continent—the land named Opelon by the Arelish people—only Arelon itself had avoided domination by the Fjordell Empire. Of course, that too was so...
he approached the priests, his armored feet clicking against the chapel's stone floor. When he finally spoke, his words were directed at Fjon. “Arteth,” he said, using the man's Derethi title, “the ship that brought me here will leave for Fjorden in one hour. You are to be on board.” Fjon's jaw dropped in alarm. “Wha—”...
returning to his eyes. “Your mind may have become tainted with Arelish thoughts, but your soul is still Fjordell. You are of Jaddeth's chosen people—all of the Fjordell have a place of service in His Empire. Return to our homeland, join a monastery to reacquaint yourself with those things you have forgotten, and you wi...
moments, then turned it to one of the desk's candles. The words it held—c1ondemning Arteth Fjon as a traitor and an apostate—would never be read, and the poor, pleasant arteth would never know just how much danger he had been in. “With your leave, my Lord Gyorn,” said the bowing priest, a minor dorven who had served un...

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