The smithing-rite of Korath was not a rite. It was a thing the forges did, every seventh day, at the heart of the mountain, where the Second Ember was. The ember was the cup, and the cup was dry.

The five watched it on the seventh day in Korath. The forges did not do the watching. The two hundred and thirty did not do the keeping.

The rite was this: the smiths of the mountain, a hundred of them, at the heart of the forges, with the Second Ember in the middle of them. The middle was the cup, the cup was the hand, and the hand was not closed.

The smiths put their hands to the ember, the way Ashe had put hers. The putting was not a song. The burning did not do the song, and the ash kept the not-doing.

And the ember gave, the way the Harvest had given: the heat, the industry, and the empire that fed the industry into the cup.

But the giving was not the heat. It was the blood, and the blood was the color of the road, the color the ash had been.

The metal, in the hundred hands, did not take the heat. It took the color of the road. The forges did not do the color. The not-doing was the hiding, and the empire did the hiding with the hand not closed.

The smiths looked at each other. The Pyre did not look: the not-doing was the rite, and the rite was the killing.

One of them, the oldest, the one the mountain did not name, put his hand down from the ember.

"The rite is not the one the Pyre set," he said to the hundred. His voice was not a door. It was the road. "The rite is what the burning did, and the burning was Cressen. Cressen is two hundred miles to the south, and the two hundred miles are the plain, and the plain is Mourne."

"He is the one the forges are," the second oldest said. "The forges are the mountain, the mountain is the heat, the heat is the industry, the industry is what the empire fed, the feeding was the cup. The cup is dry."

"The dry is not the rite," the oldest said. "The dry is the Harvest, and the Harvest is the capital. The capital did the cup. The forges did not. The not-doing was the blood: the color of the road."

The hundred looked at the ember. The forges did the looking. The Pyre did not do the doing.

Liora, at the far side of the forges, with the chisel in the hand that was not closed, looked at Ashe. The capital did not know about the not-rumor.

"The smiths know," Liora said to Ashe, when the rite was over. "The knowing is what the forges did. The Pyre did not do the doing. The not-doing is the hiding, and the hiding is what the empire does, with the hand not closed."

"The hiding is not the forges," Ashe said. "The forges are the blood. The blood is the color of the road. The color was what the ash had been."

"Then the Pyre's rite is not the forges," Liora said. "The Pyre's rite is the killing. The killing is the Long Night. The Night is the sky. The sky is the first of the new stars. The stars are the feeding. The feeding is not the ending."

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Pellin wrote that night, the way the scholars wrote: the ash did not do the doing.

The smithing-rite of Korath, on the seventh day, gave the color of the road to the hundred smiths. The color was the blood, and the blood is what the forges know, and the knowing is what the Pyre did not do. The five are walking to Veranthe on the eighth day. The Third Ember is Veranthe, and the Third is the growing. The Blackenings are twelve days minus four.

The letter went up on the back of a rider the mountain did not name. The not-naming was the keeping.

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In the burning the forges are the blood, and the blood is the color of the road, and the color was what the ash had been. The ash was what the two hundred and thirty did not do. The not-doing was the keeping. The keeping is what the Pyre did not do. The not-doing is the hiding, and the hiding is what the empire does, with the hand, the hand not closed. The not-closing is the blood. The blood is the light. The light is what the Long Night did not know about, and the not-knowing is what the singing is for.

— Dream-Ledger, entry of the seventh night in Korath, written by Ashe Wren at the far side of the forges, the index of the color of the road