Five and Alina have captured a human old man, part of the forest denizens — a disempowered, but knowledgeable elder, who struggles, at first, to understand them. The pair may notice that the quartz piece still serves to liaise communication with the elder, but its interpretative skills are reduced, and some words appear to be missing. Later study, if they choose to make it, will show that it's simply a matter of dialect — the forest people speak a version of the local language that's too niche for Karsa's language enchantments.
He is resistant, at first, to speak to them and threatens the vengeance of his people, then suicide, then a hunger strike. Now and then, in the first few hours, he will pledge loudly that Anurr will avenge him, if he is not released, and if not him, the wind, and if not the wind, the forests. The land looks after its own, he insists.
But Alina's kindness thaws him, and he yields most of his answers to her, whispered, in return for feeding and drink:
He comes of the forest, where they are free to choose their fates, their fealties, their people. No man is stolen, no man taken. They were never gone, who is so blind to claim otherwise? They stayed deeper in the woods, and now they come forward, because the lord Anurr requires them. Is it so difficult a thing to grasp, loyalty? He gives them strength and courage and asks so little in return. Once he ruled them all fairly and (word, missing in translation), and he has come for them now, as he was then, just as young, as powerful, as honest. They take what he gives, willingly. Those who are too young or not yet swayed are not (word), do they think them savages?
And the newcomers, taking over Anurr's old keep? Look what they have made of it, their disgusting, (word)(word)(word) finnicky instruments. They shame the land, and they shame Anurr. They do not belong even on their knees here, kissing the footsteps of the once and forever chieftain. This was his home, where he took his wife, where he met his fellow kings and the lord merchants, where he breathed his last. To house beggars here now is blasphemy.
As for what Anurr control, the wolves and the voices — no, pretty children, those are only the wind — he only largely smiles, but does not say.
no subject
He is resistant, at first, to speak to them and threatens the vengeance of his people, then suicide, then a hunger strike. Now and then, in the first few hours, he will pledge loudly that Anurr will avenge him, if he is not released, and if not him, the wind, and if not the wind, the forests. The land looks after its own, he insists.
But Alina's kindness thaws him, and he yields most of his answers to her, whispered, in return for feeding and drink:
He comes of the forest, where they are free to choose their fates, their fealties, their people. No man is stolen, no man taken. They were never gone, who is so blind to claim otherwise? They stayed deeper in the woods, and now they come forward, because the lord Anurr requires them. Is it so difficult a thing to grasp, loyalty? He gives them strength and courage and asks so little in return. Once he ruled them all fairly and (word, missing in translation), and he has come for them now, as he was then, just as young, as powerful, as honest. They take what he gives, willingly. Those who are too young or not yet swayed are not (word), do they think them savages?
And the newcomers, taking over Anurr's old keep? Look what they have made of it, their disgusting, (word)(word)(word) finnicky instruments. They shame the land, and they shame Anurr. They do not belong even on their knees here, kissing the footsteps of the once and forever chieftain. This was his home, where he took his wife, where he met his fellow kings and the lord merchants, where he breathed his last. To house beggars here now is blasphemy.
As for what Anurr control, the wolves and the voices — no, pretty children, those are only the wind — he only largely smiles, but does not say.