We had a mild summer, punctuated by frequent storms. Amplified by the enclosure of the twin valleys, the thunder came to us by rumbling like a river which leaves its course, to break around the peak in incredible echoes. The water slammed on the hot stones of Su-Lanté, carrying away the filth and cleaning the smallest mineral fold, and we hid under the lauze or in the cool corridors of the fort, waiting for the storm to pass. The following days, the rain that had accumulated in the rocky basins warmed up. The children would gather around the puddles to play in them with a lot of splashing, the adults would put their feet in there in the evening, until the sun dried up the peak again and filled its old rocky skin with light. The mountain wasn't my world, and I doubted that I would ever feel at home there, but that didn't stop me from reveling in those jagged nights and the breathtaking panoramas, whether they reverberated in the blazing sun or were revealed delicately behind a crackling curtain.

In the middle of the Harvest moon, I began to be able to evaluate the results of my training with Urixx. I was now a regular in the training yard, which I had gradually integrated. When time allowed, we did maneuvers in groups, and once the language barrier was overcome, most of them understood that we probably had things to learn from each other. I did my best to tell them about the Vals' strategies, which confused them considerably, as well as the composition and tactics of a brownian shield wall. In return they told me about the guerrilla warfare in the mountains and their breathless excursions in Gray-March. We shared many of our meals together, so I was welcomed into their ranks. Even Harl, the most fierce and arrogant of them, the one who had provoked me when I first arrived in Su-Lanté, behaved with a little more restraint towards me. Our confrontations on the field had a lot to do with it, even if I often lost to him.

The Ceras wrestled with each other on a regular basis and occasionally organized friendly tournaments open to everyone. The difference between our methods gave rise to some very interesting confrontations. Their martial customs emphasized the use of holds, to take the opponent to the ground and submit him, while the sweeps and punches I had inherited from Ulrick aimed at keeping a distance. With their lightweight stature, Urixx and a few others were at a disadvantage in hand-to-hand combat compared to the more massive men, and even if their handicap persisted, I showed them some of my techniques, which could, depending on the circumstances, restore the balance with more or less success. I also continued to practice the crossbow in private, and I took the weapon with me on my walks, during which I sometimes hunted. I lost a few bolts in the process, but I frequently brought back small game, a grouse, a pheasant, and sometimes a marmot when I found time to climb to the pastures. I would give my preys as gifts to my hosts in the village or to Marwenn, and I also learned to skin the marmots, using their fur to make mittens and a hat for winter. For the time being, I was happy to store the skins in the fort, along with the rest of my belongings that were struggling to brighten up my alcove.

I continued to teach Breanna as diligently as I could, sometimes baffled by her contradictory attitudes. Her physical attentions became frequent, so much so that I sometimes avoided them as discreetly as I dared, for fear of what Marwenn might do, if she ever noticed anything. Breanna occasionally made ambiguous comments, whose cleverness caught me off guard, but she could just as easily behave in an awkward and tactile manner, like a child trying to get attention. As soon as I got used to the idea that she was attracted to me (which filled me with conflicting emotions), everything changed again. Painful looks and scathing remarks replaced what I had taken for seduction, intimacy was broken by an icy and superior posture that had nothing to envy to that of narche Chara. I found these changes unfair and confusing. In spite of the danger, this forbidden banter was a good and sweet thing, something I seemed to have experienced only too rarely. That Breanna could end it frightened me as much as the possibility that she might go too far.

On stormy nights, as the lightning tormented the distant ridges, I often thought of the lufe's daughter's tale of the hidden people, and of my strange dreams and the black eyes of the Seïd of the Stone Forest. It was becoming increasingly clear to me that, despite the books I had read and the tales I had grown up with, there was much I didn't know about the lands I had grown up in. I often missed the company of the Vals, who had taught me so much, and I knew I would have needed their help to put my doubts aside. The Padekke, which I still embraced, albeit feverishly, was no longer enough to chase away the conviction that events had once taken place that couldn't be fully explained, that perhaps they were still taking place, and that I had witnessed them. It seemed to me that a great mystery was awakening again at the edge of the world, and an elusive anguish accompanied this premonition.

Sometimes I wondered what advice Ulrick would have given me in such circumstances. I sometimes thought about what he had said to me in the Culon heights, when he had braved the lightning to question my superstitions. "The only wisdom that can exist here is to say we don't know." I had played with the idea of going to do the same thing, of going to the mountains to curse the spirits of the Ceras under the lightning, but in the end I had to face the facts: I lacked the courage. I tried as best I could to content myself with the confession of my ignorance, but this posture itched as much as any other. I wanted to know and understand, to get to the bottom of a story that - it seemed to me - concerned me too. The answers that the peregrine had promised me before I was captured in Ac-Pass pounded in me a more and more irresistible call, all the more so as I was certain that Brindy was at his side. Faced with the questions, the dark conjurations that Breanna's story had brought to light, my anxiety grew as much as my desire to find the one I had grown up with. Also, in spite of the uneasiness and the tumult, I felt somewhere pleasure to feel born again the certainties and the desires, the curiosity and the questioning, so many things which I had believed for a long time swallowed by the pit. I found missing, unexpected parts, processes and desires that looked like what I had been before.

If I had made my departure a sort of general principle, and this from the very beginning, I began, at the end of the summer, to feel its necessity with more urgency. This had to do with a certain configuration of things, the renewed confidence from the handling of the weapons, the exhaustion contracted in Ifos which had been chased away more quickly than I had thought possible, the anxiety I felt for Brindy and which I have already mentioned, but which also radiated in a more diffuse way, until it encompassed all the beings I had known. The men and women who must still exist there, somewhere, whose names I didn't even know, but who gave - according to my feelings - all its consistency to the world. I had to step on brownian soil again. Maybe only one time would be enough, the time to establish a sort of inventory of the place. Above all, I wanted to honor the promise I had made to Brindy, which I had already failed to do twice. I made up my mind to renew my demands when Thurl would be back, whether he was wearing a crown or not, to beg him if necessary, because in spite of the friendships that were being formed, the habits that I was developing and some of them becoming familiar, nothing could drive away this irrepressible need. I loved Brindy. I had always loved her. I didn't care what form or configuration it might take in the reunion I hoped for, whether it was called passion or tenderness, brotherhood or anything else. I only knew that, if it was possible, I had to be near her.

Shortly before the leaves began to turn yellow, on a peaceful, blue morning, an exhausted runner came to the village entrance to announce the return of Thurl. Narche Chara welcomed him privately, under the specular dome, in the sole company of Breanna. The news spread like a fire in a fir forest and Su-Lanté went into a frenzy. At noon the whole village was gathered in the courtyard of the fortress or in the surroundings, a swarming crowd that didn't care about the burning zenith and the dripping of sweat on the stones they walked on. The rumor ran on all the lips, an ecstatic but contained rustle that one didn't dare to say aloud for fear of breaking the dream and provoking a less favourable awakening. When the waiting had stretched until becoming unbearable, Chara showed herself finally on the parapet of the pillbox. Framed by the climbing plants of Marwenn and the flight of the butterflies, her severe figure against light cut an impressive contrast on the azure of the sky. Her appearance was followed by a deep silence like the breath of a dreamer.

"Eti Thurl Cerchésé finéré," she stated in a loud voice. Thurl is king of the Ceras. If she spoke any more words, they were drowned out by the thunderous cheers that followed. I stood in the shadow of the wall, with Urixx by my side whose cheeks were wet with tears. He wasn't the only one to cry with joy. Everywhere around us there were improbable scenes of jubilation. With exuberance, I saw the breeder who had offered me the hand of his daughter pulling out his hair by handfuls. Several women began to dance spontaneously, without any music - except for the litany of cries - following their exalted steps. On the guardhouse, two experienced soldiers were hugging each other, sobbing like children, while others were wandering around, trembling and haggard, their gazes elusive and bewildered.

After the announcement, a mimetic smile had come to wrinkle my mouth, but it quickly faded. I was gradually invaded by a shameful feeling, a retreat which had imposed itself. Faced with the joy of the Ceras, I had the sensation of violating an intimacy that didn't belong to me, of contemplating a collective madness that I could not help but find disturbing. To put on a brave face I slapped a few people on the back before slipping out through the entrance of the pillbox as soon as it was possible. After a break in the garrison's dining hall, I walked through the winding tunnels to my alcove, where I isolated myself while waiting for the evening, confused and tormented.

From outside, the echoes of the party reached me, a noise like I had never heard in Su-Lanté. I ended up going back in spite of myself, fearing that my absence would be misinterpreted, with a shuffling step and a weary gait. On the way to the main hall, I ran into narche Chara who was heading back to her room, her robes rustling and her face pinched. Her eyes stared here and there like those of a magpie or a bird of prey. I bowed my head in silence and stepped aside so that she could pass, but she stopped in front of me for a few moments. I could hear her moistening her lips and thought she was going to speak to me. The candlestick she was holding trembled, and she left me as quickly as she had come. I then tried to get drunk on thorn wine without much success, amidst the shouting and debauchery, and I didn't see Chara again until the next day.

In the following days, the paths that had been empty all summer were suddenly filled with travelers. Most of them had decided to go to Su-Lanté to welcome Thurl when he arrived. Sometimes large groups of about twenty individuals came from the nearest villages, but others came from much further away at the request of their lufes. Many of them wanted to settle permanently. The empty buildings of Su-Lanté began to fill up with a disconcerting speed, the garrison and its abandoned corners were dusted, the three stonecutters were overworked, and everywhere I looked the foundations were laid for small building sites to come. In less than a week, the population increased by a good hundred souls, and the influx continued, to the point where I began to wonder if the twin valleys would be able to feed so many people. At the fort, the commotion was endless, between welcoming newcomers and preparing for Thurl's return, no one had a moment to themselves. I did my best to help, carrying wood or food, or the heavy packages of wax for Porlas.

A few nights later, about an hour after sunset, the stars were struggling to appear in the clear sky. The moon would soon be full and new riders had arrived early. Thurl's procession was getting closer. From the battlements of the fortress, several of us watched for the pass that I had crossed almost four moons before, under the veiled threat of weapons, with fear in our stomachs and doubt in our bones. Somewhere to the left, Breanna and narche Chara were doing the same from the heights of the tower, and if I looked up, I could make out the outlines of their dresses in spite of the gloom. They were dressed in their finest clothes, Marwenn had done a lot of embroidery for the occasion, deep blues and greens, ancient designs like I had seen in the kings' cemetery. The warriors with whom I stood wore their helmets and battle outfits, and they had been polishing their mails and ring armours all day long. The braided leather of their skirts glistened with perfumed grease, as did their shields and the iron of their weapons. I myself had made an effort to cut my hair, and did some braids with a colored thread that Marwenn had given me. I had also asked for an armor, the boiled leather breastplate that was sometimes lent to me for training, but Urixx had shaken his head gently, and Thesarl had done the same. We left it at that. I understood, in a way. It was a symbolic night, and I didn't belong with them.

On the ridge, we thought we saw movement, distant flashes, dark shapes. Urixx stretched out his arm. Suddenly, on the sky line, a torch burst into flames. Another followed, then two, then ten, and the flames spread again and again until a great serpent of fire appeared in the distance in the mountains. The hoarse echo of horns sounded. Su-Lanté's horns echoed back, amplified by the darkness and the mountainsides. Then I saw the rings of the snake unfold. The procession shook like a lava reptile and meandered slowly towards the peak. I couldn't help but shudder, the hairs on the back of my neck and arms standing up, and I couldn't tell if it was because of the triumphant concert or because of what the wild sound of the horns reminded me of: the victorious charge of Val's cataphracts in Ac-Pass, but also the night battle that had broken the siege along with everything else.

While I ruminated, at the same time melancholic and amazed, the sparks we had prepared were lit. My eyes stared at the approaching column and at the slope. I had never seen Su-Lanté illuminated in this way, setting the night on fire like a gem of light. The fire licked the stone to bring out unsuspected hues, plunging the usually dark village into a tumult of flickering colors. I could see that the king was marching ahead as when he left, but the ranks of those accompanying him had swelled. We could see the glitter of the soldiers' mail advancing in his wake, a good fifty or so as far as I could tell, and each of their movements set off swarming reflections, similar to the dance of a school of silver fish. The Ceras had formed a guard of honor at the entrance to the village, and they bowed one after the other as Thurl passed. They passed fifty spans below, and then we lost sight of the procession as they began the spiral path around the peak to the fort. The warriors with whom I was standing left me in a hurry to take up position in front of the fortifications. I hesitated, not knowing if I should follow or not. Finally, I chose a place near the guardhouse, among the porters and other civilians of the fort. I didn't understand why, but my heart was pounding.

At the sound of the horns, the procession returned. The pounding of boots now resounded in every corner, and the crowd that had let the king pass advanced behind his procession with the same martial rhythm. The trumpeting din rose to a crescendo in the final stretch. I could make out the faces of those approaching, Thurl first. The glow of the flames shone on his face, and he wore a golden headband on his forehead. With the others, I knelt down just before he stepped under the arch, but I didn't lower my head. I wanted to enjoy the show, and the idea of bowing down to a man, whether he was a king or not, had never particularly pleased me. In spite of the horns, which made a noise that shook the rock of the peak, Thurl must have noticed my face. His impassive gaze brushed over me for a few moments before he disappeared, taking with him the shadow of a smile. For one night, just one night, the Ceras had stopped hiding.