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But even among the thoughtful and the imaginative,
there were great dangers. After all, dear brother, there was
an enemy approaching, an enemy magnified by his absence.
The dragonarmies grew larger, their atrocities greater, as we
waited and imagined. A story passed through the ranks that
the slaughter of Plainsmen had been even more horrible
than first reported, that the draconians had found a way, in
the dark recesses of lore and intricate magic, to breed more
of their kind upon the Plainswomen - a hardier strain,
maturing quickly and able to withstand extremes of climate
- and that on the plains these children grew, feeding first
upon what little provision the country offered, then turning
upon themselves in a frenzy like sharks, until only the
largest and most hardy of the brood survived. Survived to
be armed with the black bow and the terrible curved knife,
which they would carry over the miles and the snow to the
Tower of the High Clerist.
And in addition to the rumors of war, a nightmare closer
to home, for the second night in the tower the wine ceased
to flow in the quarters of the knights, and we turned to
water and to mare's milk, knowing that those, too, would
dry in the long weeks of waiting
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