'Do you think it's another bear?'
'No this is different. No beast could make me feel this way.' 'No beast except the Red Dragon,' he muttered.
'If its men who are pursuing us,' Master Juwain said, 'then shouldn't we be on our way as soon as possible?'
'If it is men,' Atara said, slinging on her quiver, 'then as soon as they show themselves, my arrows will pursue them.'
She wondered if we shouldn't find a place of concealment by the side of the road and simply wait for whoever might be riding after us. But I couldn't countenance shooting at men from behind trees as my would-be assassin had shot at me. And I couldn't bear more killing in any case. Because our pursuers might still be untold miles away, it seemed the safest course to ride west as quickly as we could.
And ride we did For most of the first hour what day's journey, we moved along at a swift canter. Our horses' hooves struck the road in a three-beat rhythm of iron against stone, clop-clip-clop, again and again. When they grew tired, we slowed to a trot. At last we broke for a rest as Atara dismounted and pressed her ear to road to listen for the sound of other hooves.
'Do you hear anything?' Maram called to her from the side of the road. 'What do you hear?'
'Nothing except you,' Atara told him. 'Now please be quiet.'
But after a few moments, she stood up and slowly shook her head.
'Let's ride, then,' Maram said. 'I don't like the look of this wood.'
I smiled then because I thought it wasn't the trees or any growing thing that disturbed him. Some miles back, we had entered a hilly country again – but nothing so rugged or high as the tors along the gap of the Shoshan Range. Here the hills were low and rounded, and were covered in chestnut yellow poplar, black ash and oak. In the broad valley through which we rode grew stands of beech, walnut, sycamore, elm and silver maple. Many of these giants of the forest were clothed in honeysuckle and wild grape. In truth, it was a lovely wood, sweet with fruits and singing birds, and I lamented that only man could bring any evil into it.
We rode through the rest of the day. Around noon, the sun boiled away the last of the mist, and the sky cleared to a hazy blue. It grew quite hot, and humid, too, with the earth's moisture flavoring the air like a fermy soup. I was hot from a fever that had now spread from my head into the rest of my body. Beneath my layers of surcoat, mail and underpadding, I began to sweat. For a long while, 1 suffered this torment as I had been taught. But then the worms in my belly seemed to ignite like writhing tendrils of flame; my skin felt like a tunic soaked in oil and set on fire. I wanted to pull off this wrapping of burning flesh, along with all my clothing and armor, and jump into the stream that ran by the roadside. Instead, I fixed my gaze on the white blister or the sun as it slowly made its way toward the west. I might have screamed at the agony of it all if I hadn't remembered that Valari warriors are not allowed to give voice to such pain.
We made camp that night in a grove of elms by a stream half a mile from the road.
We risked no fire until it grew dark and the smoke from the damp wood we found would not be seen. Our meal that evening was as cold and cheerless as it was sparse: upon opening our food bags, we found that half our biscuits and all our cheese had grown a thick, green fur of mold. Although Master Juwain cut away as much of it as he could, neither Atara nor Maram had much appetite for what remained.
And I had none. Since I didn't have the strength to chew the leathery dried meat that Atara urged upon me, I sat back against a tree drinking some cool water. Although I insisted on staying awake to take the first watch – and perhaps the other watches as well – I almost immediately fell asleep. I never felt my friends' hands lifting me onto my bed of furs by the small fire.
I was vaguely aware that I was writhing and sweating there on the ground for most of the night. At times I must have dreamed. And then suddenly I found myself somehow awakening many miles away in a large room with rich furnishings. I stood by a magnificently canopied bed marveling at the gilded chests and wardrobes along the walls. There I saw three long mirrors, framed in ornate gold as well. The ceiling was like a chessboard, with squares of finely carved white wood alternating with the blackest ebony; an intricately woven carpet showing the shapes of many animals and men covered the floor. I couldn't find any window or door. I stood sweating in fear because I couldn't imagine how I had come to be there.
And then the mirror opposite me began rippling like still water into which someone had thrown a stone. A man stepped out of it. He was slightly above average height slim and well-muscled, with skin as fair as snow. His short hair shone like spun gold, and the fine features of his face radiated an almost unearthly beauty. I gasped to behold his eyes, for they were all golden, too. He was elegantly dressed, in a golden tunic trimmed with black fur. Across the chest the tunic was embroidered with an emblem that drew my eyes and held them fast: it was the coiled shape of a large and ferocious red dragon.
You're standing on my head,' he told me in a strong, deep voice. 'Please get your muddy boots off it.'
I looked down to see that I was indeed standing on the eyes of a red dragon woven into the wool at the center of the carpet. I instantly found myself moving backward. No king I ad ever known – neither King Hadaru nor even my father – spoke with such command as did this beautiful man.
'Do you know who I am?' he asked me.
'Yes,' I said. I was sweating fiercely now; I wanted to close my eyes and scream, but I couldn't look away from him. 'You're the Red Dragon.' 'I have a name,' he said.
'You know what it is – say it.'
'No,' I told him. 'I won't.'
'Say it now!'
'Morjin,' I said, despite my resolve. 'Your name is Morjin.' 'Lord Morjin, you should call me. And you are Valashu Elahad. Son of Shavashar Elahad, who is of the line of Elemesh, Aramesh and Telemesh. Do you know what these men did to me?'
'Yes – they defeated you.'
'Defeated? Do I look defeated?' Morjin positioned himself by one of his mirrors as he adjusted the folds of his tunic. He stood very straight, and his face took on a fierce and implacable countenance. It seemed that he was searching for fire and iron there and finding both in abundance. He looked into his own golden eyes for a long time. And then he turned to me and said, 'No, in the end, it was I who defeated them.
They are dead and I am still alive.'
He took a few steps closer to me and said, 'But they did defy me. Even as you have, Valashu Elahad.'
'No,' I said, 'no, no.'
'No… what?'
'No, Lord Morjin.'
'You killed one of my knights, didn't you?'
'No, that's not true – are assassins knights?'
'You put your knife into him. You killed this man, and so you owe him a life. And since he was my man, you owe me your life.'
'No, that's a lie,' I said. 'You're the Lord of Lies.'
'Am I?'
'You're the Lord of Illusions, the Crucifier, the Great Beast.'
'I'm only a man, like you.'
'No-that's the worst lie of all! You're nothing like me.'
Morjin smiled, revealing small white teeth as lustrous as pearls. He asked me, 'Have you never lied, then?'
'No – my mother taught me not to lie. My father, too.'
'That is the first lie you've told me, Valashu. But not the last.'
'Yes, it is!' I said, I pressed my hand to my throbbing head. 'I mean, no, it isn't – I wasn't lying when I said it's wrong to lie.'
'Is it really?' he asked me. He took another step closer and said, 'It pleases me that you lie to me. Why not be truthful about what all men do? You honor the truth, don't you? You're an Elahad aren't you? Then listen to this truth that I give to you freely: He who best knows the truth is most able to tell a falsehood. Therefore the man best at lying is the most true.'
'That's a lie!' I half-shouted. But my head hurt so bad I could hardly tell what was true and what was not. 1
