When I first arrived in Su-Lanté, I had been a walking curiosity, and wherever I went, I attracted attention. After the coronation of Thurl, and the excitement that followed, I suddenly became invisible. The usual calm of the village was replaced by a whirlwind of activity, departures and arrivals, the construction of new buildings and the restoration of old ones, especially since the procession of visitors and the commotion they brought in their wake didn't seem to be about to stop. It was necessary to welcome herds, to organize the pastures and to establish others, to cart wood, stone and earth for the craftsmen, to store supplies and fodder under the cover of the cold caves. Those who weren't busy with logistics roamed the forests and twin valleys to gather what they could, wild grains, mushrooms, walnuts and fruits. Since manpower had become plentiful, I was hardly thought of. In the midst of the turmoil, tossed around here and there, I felt so often useless that I found excuses to leave the village and wander alone. On the roads, I chewed on the words I intended for Thurl, rehearsed the speech that would win my freedom, without ever fully believing it. My desire to leave the mountains nibbled, nagged on the inside and sometimes swelled like an irrepressible breath.

The training yard was now buzzing with famous warriors who didn't know each other, who looked at each other, who were sizing each other up, and who would have to learn to live together. These big, strong men seemed most concerned about their status in relation to the king and to each other. Tensions were rising and there had already been a few fights. The older ones were keeping out of these peculiar maneuvers, but many young, arrogant and aggressive warriors were involved, and I think I was too special not to be seen by them as anything but a problem. Stranger, tespiné, guest, prisoner, that was too many contradictions to consider, and they treated me with suspicion when they didn't ignore me entirely. Urixx and Thesarl had gone back on patrol, but even if they had been there, I don't think they could have changed anything. I was no longer welcome among the fighters, and I didn't know many people in the pillbox. I tried to talk about it with Liras and Forcas, but they had other things to do. The general hostility made me abandon the barracks until the situation calmed down.

In the hall of the fort things weren't much better. The augurs of the visiting lufes had played an important role in the election of Thurl. Thelis had of course told them about the lighting of the eye of the kings, but now that the gods' tool was before their eyes, a few conversations were enough to convince them that I had been a pawn in history and that I was no longer of much interest. Moreover, my mastery of their language was fumbling, and they were clearly displeased to hear me use brownian. They were not the only ones. One evening, Thurl took me aside to make me understand that not only did he have no time for me, but that except for Breanna, I had to limit my interactions with the other nobles.

At first, even if it wasn't enjoyable for me to be left out, I thought that the situation could work in my favor: if my presence bothered them, it would be an additional argument to put forward when it came to negotiating my departure. And then, suddenly, autumn covered the mountains with its melancholic breath. I was still waiting when, stunned, I saw the passes whiten under the assault of the first snow, moons before I expected it. With a heavy heart I had to face the facts: it was too late. I could no longer see how I could leave before spring. This realization led to another one: I had built up hope all summer long, but in truth, this structure didn't mean much. There had hardly been a handful of allusions, rare and doubtful. After a long time of wavering, I had to face the possibility of my own helplessness and the idea that the Ceras would never give me back my freedom, as Thurl had told me after our first meeting.

In despair, I gathered up my courage and tried to do everything I could by asking Breanna to intercede with her father, despite the peril of the undertaking. I tried to be formal, because any mention of Brindy and my desire to go looking for her triggered unpredictable mood swings in Breanna that oscillated between sympathy and hurtful reproaches. In this case, my attempts were not successful. The daughter of the new king told me straightforwardly that her father had no more time for her than for me, and that she had seen little of him since he had returned. Her eyes were wide and glistening, and I could see that she was lonely and probably a little overwhelmed, and that the only thing I had been giving her to contemplate for two moons was my own discomfort. I apologized, as frankly as I could. She understood, I think, then tried to touch my arm, and I had to avoid it. We hadn't talked about it, but we both knew that her father's coronation would change a lot of things. Breanna had become a political issue and I imagined that many lords would want her hand. She had already inherited a permanent guard, a scarred man from the east who looked at me suspiciously, and I had no doubt that more changes would follow.

Some of our guests left Su-Lanté as winter approached, but many others chose to stay. The population had doubled since my arrival. Work was still being done to find decent housing for the newcomers, and the fort's road, the only real street in the village, was often crowded with materials and workers. I sometimes thought with bitter amusement of how I had once thought of the mountains as a frozen wasteland, and imagined that perhaps many Bownians must have looked up to the peaks and thought the same thing. And yet, here, nestled in the heart of the Wall, Su-Lanté was swarming like an impatient anthill.

The snow began to fall with more regularity, small showers at first, thin and crisp, clinging to the rocks and pasture paths I liked to walk on. Little by little, the latter became less and less accessible, so that I had to reduce the perimeter of my walks. I used the crossbow more cautiously, because the game was getting scarcer and harder to catch. The goats were parked in the village to protect them from the cold and from predators, feeding them bales of hay and dried alfalfa picked in late spring. Skins and furs appeared on the shoulders of the Ceras. As the draughts became downright icy in the heights, I had to take my carmian cloak out of the casket where it had been lying all summer. I quickly discovered that this red outfit made me stand out too much and didn't attract only friendly looks, especially from the newcomers. Eventually I asked one of the furriers at the fort to help me make a short coat from the skins of the marmots I had hunted during summer. When we finished our work a few days later, I was able to blend in again, as shaggy and hairy as the others.

In the depths of winter, time seemed to stand still, like our breaths in the frozen air. Each dawn looked like the previous one. The piling up of bodies in the great hall of the fort, the short expeditions to bring back some wood or supplies, the frost that slowly crawled to cover everything. I sometimes scanned the frozen peace of the twin valleys when I dared to face the cold long enough, wondering where life could have found refuge. Boredom was a constant enemy, which we tried to chase away through games and debate and storytelling. Perhaps I understood a little better the calm of the Ceras, born of waiting and silence, of the whispering that became necessary when a hundred souls were crammed into the same space. At the solstice, there was a pilgrimage which lasted a whole day. Thelis led us towards the south and we spent the night on a large frozen lake, whose water was so clear that one could see through the ice its ravined bottom.

Spinel had been relegated to the background, to the depths, like a lethargic dream. I had to be patient, because escape had become impossible and dwelling on it served no purpose other than to make me suffer. I had the impression that Thurl avoided me, or made sure to spend little time with me, now that he had more. On the rare occasions when we did talk, he managed to change the subject when I tried to turn the conversation to the subject of my future. On one occasion, I was able to ask him to test me by letting me fight the Brownians with his men, which was, in my mind, the most obvious way for me to prove my integrity to him. He had shaken his head, and I didn't say anything more. His gaze, at times, frightened me. If I couldn't control anything, I lived one day at a time, spending time in the training yard, improving my speaking of the local language by the fires and by Breanna, whom I now taught in her quarters, warmed with difficulty by an urn of coals. The wax of the tablets was so hard that we sometimes broke our styluses. I had adapted to the rhythm of the mountain, a life slowed down like the hibernation of the beasts. I lost track of time. It was hardly if I noticed an improvement of the weather, and the return more and more frequent of the sun. I didn't expect anything more, and then, as usual, I was caught off guard by the course of events.

It was a cold night, I had gone to bed earlier than usual, because the murmurs of the common room had died down and no other story seemed to want to follow the tale that had just ended: the tragic story of a tespiné named Turis, who had died in the mouth of his mortal enemy, the king of bears. I had not enjoyed the fable very much. Too many obvious parallels could be made with my own situation. I may have been the only person in the fort to sleep alone at this time of year, but the Ceras had provided me with plenty of furs and my mat was large and comfortable. I don't know what woke me up, perhaps the rustling of the thick curtain that I used as a door, or the repeated sparks from the flint. In any case, when I opened my sleepy eyelids, a frail and trembling figure was standing near the entrance, clutching at an oil lamp. I moved a little briskly, unable to articulate a sound, struggling to remember where I had put my dagger. The flame flickered, rose a little more until it illuminated Breanna's shy features, her immaculate skin in the dancing glow. The girl took a few short steps, then came to sit on the edge of my bed. She wore a simple buckskin dress. Her gaze was evasive. "I couldn't sleep," she said quietly, before leaning over to put her lamp next to mine.

I rubbed my horrified eyes, my heart pounding. "Your father will have me killed if anyone finds you here," I whispered. "He won't know," Breanna replied, her gaze fixed on the flame. I thought her features were tense, and she looked like a convict. "Please don't ask me to leave." She came closer, shaking more and more. I couldn't tell if it was the cold or the emotion. Her dress slipped, revealing a milky shoulder. In the darkness, she groped around looking for my fingers, and found them, and squeezed them gently. I let her do it, mainly because she caught me off guard and I couldn't see how to get out of her grip. I was afraid, but at the same time this didn't seem so unfamiliar to me. Somehow I wanted it too. Breanna brushed the sides of her dress. "I'm yours, if you want me." Her eyes gleamed like those of a feverish man. I took a deep breath. I was lonely, very lonely, and the idea of a body pressed against mine, of a woman wanting me, was something I had often dreamed of. I bit my lips. "No," I croaked half-heartedly. Breanna's expression didn't change. She began to meticulously unzip the ties of her dress, as if she hadn't heard me.

"No one will know," she whispered. "I'll say I gave myself to the spirits." I pushed back my blankets, shaking my head, feeling more and more sure of myself. "No, Breanna," I insisted. She searched the shadows for my gaze. "Don't you like me?" she asked in a pleading tone. I breathed in again, and backed away, shivering, until my back met the stone. My voice was low and hissing, and not as compassionate as I would have liked. "It's not you. Your father has been good to me, as good as he could be. I don't want him to be able to blame me for anything when I ask him to give me my freedom." Breanna began to sob. "We could run away together, then. You've seen the way they look at me. I don't want to be this bone that the lufes fight over. I want to see the world. Take me with you, please." My heart pinched, and tears rolled down the cheeks of the king's daughter, to drip on my furs. Her wet gaze seemed foreign to me, confused, and yet I hesitated. I really hesitated in front of this ultimate plea, because I understood it only too well. "Please," Breanna repeated. I swallowed, seized with a terrible nausea. "No," I finally whispered, with tears filling my eyes.

The curtain was pulled aside, and Thurl suddenly entered the small room. Behind him came Dorl and Liras. Dorl looked serious, and the lamp glinted on the bare blade of his scythe. I faltered, unable to utter even a feeble explanation. The king put a large fur cloak over his daughter's shoulders, and she stood up, without looking at me. Confused, bewildered, I didn't dare to make the slightest move, then suddenly I understood what had been going on. How I had been put to the test since my arrival in Su-Lanté. It was a question of evaluating me, slowly, by means of deception. They had asked Breanna to seduce me and she had done it. We had not been left together so that she could learn frank-sabir. It was mainly her charms that she was sharpening in my presence. However, I didn't doubt for a moment the sincerity of our relationship. Undeniably, there had been complicity between us, and even affection. Thurl briefly held the young woman close to him, whispered a few words in her ear, and then she left, her head down, her face defeated. I realized that her tears had not been faked. That they were tears of grief, because she had cornered me into a dead end. I had a choice to take her or give her up. Whatever my decision, our bond couldn't have survived, and she knew it. What she had mourned wasn't the life that was meant for her, but the only friend she ever had.

The silence that followed was heavy and tense. Something swelled inside me, sad anger and fear, then it abruptly subsided and turned into resignation. Thurl looked at me for a long time. Finally I bowed my head. "Get dressed, and come with us," he finally growled. I carefully moved as if my body were one big tumefaction, and put on my trousers and then my doublet. I finished with the belt, cursing inwardly that the dagger wasn't in its sheath. My heart was pounding. My mouth was dry. Liras took the lamp that Breanna had left behind, Dorl positioned himself at my back, and the four of us headed for the specular dome.

Our steps echoed, dry and gloomy. The air rustling through the rocky corridors was frigid, but a large, simmering urn filled with embers awaited us at our destination. Thurl invited me to sit on one of the stools that had been set up there. Liras and Dorl stood in the warmth of the urn, their eyes glistening. Above us, the pale glow of the moon pierced the translucent stone, but the illumination came mostly from the burning coals and the oil lamp. In the darkest corner, under the archway that led to the nobles' quarters, I thought I could make out the silhouette of narche Chara, motionless and cold. The king cleared his throat. "So I can't have your head cut off," he told me without preamble. I shrugged my shoulders, not feeling any real relief. "Nothing's stopping you from doing so," I said, staring at the king. He had a thin smile, which also seemed a little forced to me:

"I won't change your mind? Are you still intent on leaving?"

I nodded slowly but firmly. "I will not change my mind, king of the Ceras." Thurl frowned. "I don't like the idea of you leaving the mountains. But I cannot have you killed either, because you have been loyal and upright. I'm just as reluctant to keep you here against your will. Some day you would turn against me, I think, and I have enough enemies already." He paused, rubbing his palms together for a long time, then a jolt shook him, as if he had just been snatched from his thoughts. Thurl straightened up on his embroidered stool. His features were harsh in the light, his wrinkles were showing and his silver beard looked as shaggy as ever. His voice became authoritative and a little bitter, too. "You have shown yourself trustworthy, but you have refused my friendship and that of my people. That I do not forget. I grant you your freedom, Fyss the tespiné, and my men will escort you to our borders. But you shall go as you came, and you shall have nothing else from me." Thurl walked away shaking his head. I bowed mine, not daring to breathe. I was left there, bathed in confusion and hope, and the rays of the winter moon. Soon there was only silence and the soft hum of the embers.

I exhaled loudly, my gaze lost on the surface of the magmatic glow, opening and closing my hands by reflex, without really knowing what to do with them. I thought I was alone, then narche Chara materialized on the other side of the urn, her bare feet covered with frostbite, her face hollow, deformed and tortured. She said nothing, only stretched her long emaciated fingers over the coals. Her nails were dirty and broken. We stayed like that for a long time, in the strident agitation of my thoughts. I should have been concerned about myself, no doubt, about what had just happened. Yet I could only think of Breanna, of the cold darkness of her quarters, and also of what would be waiting for her when I would be gone.

I looked at narche Chara out of the corner of my eye, measuring with my soul the insane courage it took to choose to stay here, with tragedy and insanity as my only projections and references. Then I tried to place myself outside, somewhere on an unknown road, far from this people that was trying to be reborn and that I was going to leave behind me. I managed to do so without difficulty. So easily, in fact, that I sighed wistfully. Shaken inside, without succeeding in embracing anything of the disorder, the idea eventually arose that I might find Brindy. I smiled sadly and fiercely. My eyes went back to the embers, then to my hands, and a big shiver ran down my spine.

I was going home.