The Seven Towers
The Seven Towers
“Part of him wanted to shout that Ranlyn’s accusation could not be true, that Carachel could not, would not, have planned such a thing, but another part held him silent. The charge was monstrous, but it explained too many things—Carachel’s reluctance to tell Jermain much about the Matholych, his insistence on holding the Hoven-Thalar against all reasonable military practice, Elsane’s visit ten days before. Jermain felt like a fool; why hadn’t he seen, or at least suspected?
Silence hung over the... camp. At last Carachel looked up—not at Ranlyn, at Jermain. His face was a mask, but his voice held a plea. “I do what I must.”
“The wall between ‘must’ and ‘will’ is often hidden beneath the sand,” Ranlyn said.
Carachel’s eyes were still on Jermain. “What I do is the only way to keep destruction from the Seven Kingdoms; I swear it!”
“Do you truly expect me to agree to such a slaughter?” Jermain’s voice was icy.
“Will you have the Matholych come again, and again a hundred years from now, and on forever?MoreLess
Silence hung over the... camp. At last Carachel looked up—not at Ranlyn, at Jermain. His face was a mask, but his voice held a plea. “I do what I must.”
“The wall between ‘must’ and ‘will’ is often hidden beneath the sand,” Ranlyn said.
Carachel’s eyes were still on Jermain. “What I do is the only way to keep destruction from the Seven Kingdoms; I swear it!”
“Do you truly expect me to agree to such a slaughter?” Jermain’s voice was icy.
“Will you have the Matholych come again, and again a hundred years from now, and on forever?MoreLess
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