I was too exhausted to be careful.
Collapsing to the ground and folding my legs beneath me, I inspected the contents of my field bag, which had been ripped and chewed but not ruined by the puma. Two skins still had water in them; the rest had been punctured. That alone made my survival doubtful past a day or two. I didn’t know where to find fresh water between here and Khul Bashab. Unless I returned to the wagon and found more unbroken skins, surviving until the city was as likely as a kraken grazing on dry land. The jerky and all the beans remained, but with little water to cook the beans they were almost worthless. And even if I had water, without a weapon for defense my death was almost certain. The chances of crossing the plains without running into something with sharp teeth and an appetite were extremely small.
But the journal my aunt had given me remained along with my quills, and my ink pot was still intact because it was made of thick Hathrim glass.
I began writing what had happened while I was still breathing hard, sorrow springing fresh in my eyes. I will never forgive myself should I live to return to civilization. My family had died because of my selfishness.
The sun is sinking to the horizon, shadows darkening in the forest.
A flicker of movement in the trees. Is that—?
Kalaad’s judgment is upon me. I am in the middle of a nest of bloodcats, their fur camouflaged against the bark of the nughobes. They were asleep when I arrived, but now they stir and I can see them moving where I didn’t before. They will smell me soon if they haven’t already. They will certainly see me when I move. There is no escape; they are too fast and too many. They will hunt me down together, and I have nothing to keep them at bay.
So be it. It is only fair that I be food for them when I have made food of so many other creatures on the plains. It is natural, and it may even be justice.
Teldwen will prosper without me, I am sure. Farewell.
—
A cry of dismay rose on the wind when the bard returned to himself. “Don’t worry,” he reassured his audience. “That is not the end of Abhinava’s story. It is only the end for today. Meanwhile, near the Godsteeth, Gorin Mogen’s plans took shape while most of the rest of the world wondered if he was still alive.” When he took the seeming of the Hearthfire, more than doubling his size, the giant looked pleased with himself.
Shaping steel is all about the application of heat and pressure. Shaping the hearts and minds of a population is similar, except instead of the hammer and tongs, one uses words and gestures, and they generate their own heat and pressure. Before Mirana Mastik could sow any more discontent and get people thinking of sailing south, I gathered the survivors and told them to make themselves comfortable for the season at least.
“The ash continues to rain down from Mount Thayil and spread south to any place we might think to land to start afresh. If you were inclined to think of Thayil’s eruption as some kind of judgment or punishment—and I am not one of those—then the judgment will hang over Hathrir for the entire season. So we must remain here, sow and reap here, build here, and yes, even prosper here. We have no other choice. Very soon, there will be no patch of sky in Hathrir where the sun is not blotted out by ash. I have brought you to the best possible place to start anew. So let us begin!”
I gestured to Jerin. “My son, Jerin Mogen, will begin building a proper hearth for Thurik’s Flame under the supervision of La Mastik herself!”
Applause broke out for this, and I grinned. Let her complain now when the very first thing I commanded was to do honor to her god.
“And I will personally build our first smithy so that we may create the Hathrim glass and steel the world hungers for!”
More applause.
“There is employment for everyone here. Trees to be harvested. Land to be sown. Animals to be hunted. An entire city to be built! For though this is Nentian land and we are guests here, they will no doubt approve of our industry and be grateful to us for developing land they have long thought too wild to be tamed. And