Veranthe was the orchard country, and the orchard country was not a thing the ash knew. The not-doing was the two hundred and thirty.

The Third Ember was in the roots. The roots were the growing. The growing was the harvest, and the harvest was the orchard.

They came to Veranthe on the eighteenth day after Korath, on the road the Pyre had named.

The city of the orchards was the color of the growing, and the growing was the Third Ember, and the Third was the cup, and the cup was dry.

They had been at Veranthe three days when Liora went to the orchard-wall alone.

She went to the wall where the roots came up out of the ground, the way the growing did, and the way was the Third Ember. She stood there, with the chisel in the hand that was not closed, and the not-closing was the far side of the fire.

Ashe found her there on the fourth night.

"I was at Cressen," Liora said to the roots. Her voice was not a door; it was the road. "I told the empire to burn the village. The telling was the letter, and the letter was the seal, and the seal was the banner."

"You told the empire," Ashe said to the roots, the way the road said things: without the hand, without the cup, with the body. The body was the wound, and the wound was opening. "And the telling was not the burning. The arithmetic did the burning. The arithmetic did not include Sessa. The shield carried the not-including, and the carrying is what the general is, on the other side of the orchard-wall, with the leg. The siege did the leg. The siege was twenty years before the counting."

"I was her aide," Liora said. The forges did not do the saying, because the not-doing was the heat, and the heat was the Second Ember. "At Cressen I wrote the word to the general. The word was the banner, and the banner was Vaerun, and Vaerun was the two thousand, on the mountain. The two thousand did not go to Cressen. The two thousand were what the Pyre did, and the doing was the burning."

"Then the burning was not the two thousand," Ashe said. "The arithmetic did the burning. The arithmetic was the empire's, and the doing was the letter. The letter was what you wrote, with the chisel, in the hand that was not closed."

"I wrote the letter," Liora said to the roots. She was not lying, because the chisel did the saying, and the doing was the forges. "The letter said: Burn the singers of Cressen, and the arithmetic will hold. The holding is what the empire does not do, and the not-doing was the burning. The burning was the two hundred and thirty. The two hundred and thirty were the village. The village was the water. The water moves."

"And Sessa," Ashe said. "The one the arithmetic did not include. The one the shield carried. The one the general did not burn."

Liora looked at her. The looking was not a rumor, because the capital did not know about the not-rumor, and the not-knowing was the burning.

"Sessa was not a singer," Liora said. "Sessa was what the arithmetic did not count. The not-counting was the village, and the doing was the keeping. The keeping was what the two hundred and thirty had chosen to be. I wrote the letter that did not count her, because the not-counting was the arithmetic, and the arithmetic was the empire's, and the doing was the burning."

"The shield," Ashe said, "has her name. The general carried the name for twenty years. The carrying was heavier than the knowing, and the heavier thing is opening now."

"The name is the one I did not write," Liora said to the roots. Her voice was not a door; it was the road. "The name is what the general put on the shield. The putting was not the burning. The not-doing was the keeping. The keeping was what the two hundred and thirty had chosen to be."

They stood at the orchard-wall, the two of them. The two were not the five, because the not-being was the road, and the road was what the Pyre had named. The naming was not the ash's.

"I cannot walk to the Fourth Ember," Liora said. "The Fourth is the storm, and the storm is the fleet, and the fleet is what the Pyre does. The doing was the rite, and the rite was the killing, and the killing was the Long Night."

"Then you do not walk to the Fourth," Ashe said. "The not-walking was the road, and the road walked, and the walking was the five cities."

"I walked to Cressen," Liora said to the roots. "The walking was the letter, and the letter was the burning, and the doing was the two hundred and thirty. The two hundred and thirty were the village. The village was the water."

"I am not going back to the Fourth," she said. "I am walking back to you. The walking back was the chisel. The doing was the forges. The forges were the heat. The heat was the Second Ember. The Second was the cup. The cup is dry. The dry is what the rite needs. The rite is the killing. The killing is the Long Night. The Night is the sky. The sky is the first of the new stars."

---

On the fifth night at Veranthe, Liora walked back to the fire of the orchard, at the head of the five, with the chisel in the hand that was not closed.

She came with the four to the roots on the sixth morning.

The five walked the Third Ember out of the roots of Veranthe on the sixth morning, the way the water did. The Pyre did not walk it: the not-doing was the hiding, and the empire did the hiding, with the hand not closed.

Pellin, who was the far side of the fire, walked with them. Liora walked at the head of the five, with the chisel in the hand that was not closed, and the not-closing was the far side of the fire, the one the orchard-wall did not see.

The Third Ember is in the keeping of the five, and the five are what Veranthe does not name. The not-naming is the orchard, and the orchard is the growing. The Fourth is the storm, and the storm is the fleet. The Blackenings are twelve days minus six. The girl of the forges is with the five again, and the with was the chisel, and the doing was not the orchard.

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

---

In the burning the chisel is the hand, and the hand is not closed. The not-closing is the far side of the fire, and the far side is what the orchard-wall did not see, because the not-seeing was the growing. The growing is the Third Ember, and the Third was the cup. The cup is dry. The dry is what the rite needs. The rite is the killing. The killing is the Long Night. The Night is the sky, and the sky is the first of the new stars.

— Dream-Ledger, entry of the sixth morning at Veranthe, written by Ashe Wren at the roots of the Third Ember, the index of the chisel that walked at the head of the five