the tip of the blade, and saw how it hung there, swelling into a fat shining pearl. She saw it shudder and drop, and heard the soft pat of sound as it struck the carriage floor.
She had not spoken.
There came a sharp cry. A cold chill seized her heart. It was as if the blade had plunged deep into her, even as it killed the stranger she could have saved.
Then came a groan, followed by the scuffle of running feet. She looked around and saw the pilgrim running for his life down the road. She shut her eyes tight and blushed a deep hot red.
She heard the rattle of the wheels and the tapping of countless hooves on the stony track as the carriage began to move once more. She felt her left wrist released and the tingle of blood returning to her fingers. She felt the tears rolling down her cheeks.
Then came the mocking voice of the Jahan.
"So now you know."
"You didn't cut his throat," said Echo. "I knew you wouldn't."
"You knew only one thing. That you cared more for your little finger than for another man's life. If I'm a monster, so too are you."
Echo said no more. She couldn't begin to find words for the storm of fear and shock and shame within herself. She had never known men could be so cruel. She had never known she could be so afraid. She had never known she could let a man die.
"Now you will kiss my hand."
He held out his huge hand before her. She took it, then bowed her head and kissed it.
"No more talk of running away."
She hated him then, more than she had ever hated anyone in her life: this great ugly man who made her hate herself. She wanted more than anything to hurt him, and to see him cry as she had cried. She knew she had no choice for the moment but to stay with him. But secretly she vowed that she would die before she married one of his sons. And one day, she would make him in his turn kiss her hand.
3. The Shadow of Noman
M IRIANDER LED THE EIGHT NOVICES INTO THE S HADOW Court. Morning Star, walking in line immediately behind the Wildman, was surprised to see that his colors had changed. The amber brown tones that told her he was uninvolved and unhappy had turned to a pale yellow glow. It was as if he had awoken from sleep. There was something he wanted very much, and his colors told her that he now expected to get it soon.
Once they were in the Shadow Court, Miriander spoke to them.
"We will enter the Night Court," she said, "and sit there for a little while, and I will show you something of the past of our Community. To see this, you will need to share my memories."
She smiled at them as she spoke, and every one of them, not realizing they were doing it, smiled back. This new teacher was so strong and so beautiful that they all wanted to please her.
"These memories will become visible to you as pictures in the air. They are memories that were shown to me by my teacher, and to him by his. In this way the Noble Warriors have forged an unbroken chain of memory from the early days of our Community to today. You will now join this chain."
She led them on into the darkness of the Night Court, and they sat down cross-legged on the ground. The highdomed windowless space was lit only by hundreds of pencil-thin shafts of light, which entered through small holes in the curving roof high above. The stripes and speckles of brightness fell on their faces and clothing, on walls and floor, dissolving their forms into the shadows.
"Look upwards," said Miriander. "Look at nothing. Expect nothing."
Seeker did as he was told. He let his attention fall on the motes of dust that hung in the fine beams of light, and then on the shadowy emptiness beyond. From somewhere outside he thought he heard cries and the pattering of many feet. He felt a rumble in his stomach and realized he was hungry. He wondered what they would be given for lunch. He particularly liked the custard that the meeks sometimes made, when the hens were laying well and there was a surplus of eggs. He even liked the skin that formed on the
She had not spoken.
There came a sharp cry. A cold chill seized her heart. It was as if the blade had plunged deep into her, even as it killed the stranger she could have saved.
Then came a groan, followed by the scuffle of running feet. She looked around and saw the pilgrim running for his life down the road. She shut her eyes tight and blushed a deep hot red.
She heard the rattle of the wheels and the tapping of countless hooves on the stony track as the carriage began to move once more. She felt her left wrist released and the tingle of blood returning to her fingers. She felt the tears rolling down her cheeks.
Then came the mocking voice of the Jahan.
"So now you know."
"You didn't cut his throat," said Echo. "I knew you wouldn't."
"You knew only one thing. That you cared more for your little finger than for another man's life. If I'm a monster, so too are you."
Echo said no more. She couldn't begin to find words for the storm of fear and shock and shame within herself. She had never known men could be so cruel. She had never known she could be so afraid. She had never known she could let a man die.
"Now you will kiss my hand."
He held out his huge hand before her. She took it, then bowed her head and kissed it.
"No more talk of running away."
She hated him then, more than she had ever hated anyone in her life: this great ugly man who made her hate herself. She wanted more than anything to hurt him, and to see him cry as she had cried. She knew she had no choice for the moment but to stay with him. But secretly she vowed that she would die before she married one of his sons. And one day, she would make him in his turn kiss her hand.
3. The Shadow of Noman
M IRIANDER LED THE EIGHT NOVICES INTO THE S HADOW Court. Morning Star, walking in line immediately behind the Wildman, was surprised to see that his colors had changed. The amber brown tones that told her he was uninvolved and unhappy had turned to a pale yellow glow. It was as if he had awoken from sleep. There was something he wanted very much, and his colors told her that he now expected to get it soon.
Once they were in the Shadow Court, Miriander spoke to them.
"We will enter the Night Court," she said, "and sit there for a little while, and I will show you something of the past of our Community. To see this, you will need to share my memories."
She smiled at them as she spoke, and every one of them, not realizing they were doing it, smiled back. This new teacher was so strong and so beautiful that they all wanted to please her.
"These memories will become visible to you as pictures in the air. They are memories that were shown to me by my teacher, and to him by his. In this way the Noble Warriors have forged an unbroken chain of memory from the early days of our Community to today. You will now join this chain."
She led them on into the darkness of the Night Court, and they sat down cross-legged on the ground. The highdomed windowless space was lit only by hundreds of pencil-thin shafts of light, which entered through small holes in the curving roof high above. The stripes and speckles of brightness fell on their faces and clothing, on walls and floor, dissolving their forms into the shadows.
"Look upwards," said Miriander. "Look at nothing. Expect nothing."
Seeker did as he was told. He let his attention fall on the motes of dust that hung in the fine beams of light, and then on the shadowy emptiness beyond. From somewhere outside he thought he heard cries and the pattering of many feet. He felt a rumble in his stomach and realized he was hungry. He wondered what they would be given for lunch. He particularly liked the custard that the meeks sometimes made, when the hens were laying well and there was a surplus of eggs. He even liked the skin that formed on the
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