The next day dawned clear and cold; autumn was giving way to winter. Telar dreaded what was to come; he doubted he would be allowed near the library, after slipping off the day before. He would have to spend the whole day at the war-arts. Nimarl might never let him read again.
“And I have read only half of The Book of the Great, up to the passage where Shirra meets Gharus on Mount Nyngal to decide in single combat the fate of the kingdom,” he told Kailar at breakfast.
Kailar looked at him with the amused expression Telar was beginning to find familiar. “The Book of the Great? Isn’t that a rather war-filled book for someone who hates the thought of war as much as you do?”
“It’s different in legends,” Telar said defensively. “It means something. Here-and-now, all it is is killing other pe
