What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
There is shadow under this red rock,
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
-- From The Waste Land by T.S Eliot
This story is a piece of Warrens Widdershins Ways and Woes, you should have worked your way through it and arrived here from A secret of the Heart. Where we faced a disquieting truth.
This part will cover the Auri's journey to Wains, where she notices something is amiss and finds an Amyr doll under the couch. Then we'll unwind the journey from another perspective. Our last couple of looks into Auri haven't been comforting, we turned events and then turned them back again until the pieces started to fit, and the words they tell are no children's story. Were left hollow and betrayed, we want desperately to find a light that will turn these shadows into simple solid things. Ahead we see the blue-green flicking of foxen, playing off the curved burrow of the underthings below. It reflects on iron pipes and murky waters, lighting our way. We follow...
We catch up with Auri as she visits Wains, discovers a new room, and notices something isn't quite proper.
Auri brushed off her hands, swung the door open, and stepped lightly into Wains. The hallway was wide enough to drive a wagon through. High-ceilinged and long enough that Foxen’s light could barely reach the tangle of debris that blocked the far end. Above her, bluewhite light scattered off a crystal chandelier. Dark wood paneling hugged the lower portion of the walls, but above that was ornate plasterwork. There were broad frescoes decorating the ceiling. Women in gauze lounged about whispering and rubbing oil on each other. Men frolicked about in the water, flapping around ridiculously in their absolute altogether.
-- SROST:1:35
Note the bluewhite light, a chandelier, dark wood, a picture of women and men frolicking. She finds the Crystal here, the one we discussed so long ago, but lets skip over that for now. She decides to open the 9th door in Wains. She calls the new place, it opens into, a sitting room. It has a velvet chair, a low wooden table, etc..
A tall velvet chair. A low wooden table. A plush couch on a plush carpet. In the corner was a tiny cart filled with glasses and bottles. They were very dignified.
-- SROST:1:27
She tells us something is wrong with the room.
There was something wrong with the room.
She looks around, she mentions the carpet in the room is like moss:
plush of the carpet was sweet beneath her feet, like moss,
She sees a tiny whiteness under the couch:
and when she bent down to run her fingers over the hush of it, she glimpsed a tiny whiteness underneath the couch.
She reaches for it:
She reached deep into the shadows with a small white hand, having to stretch a bit before her fingers caught it. Smooth and cool. It was a tiny figurine carved from a piece of pale, retiring stone. A small soldier with clever lines to show his hauberk and his shield.
It's they Amyr that was featured discussed in the Warrens Post. But it wasn't the issue with the room:
It didn’t belong here, but it wasn’t wrong. Or rather, it wasn’t what was wrong with the room. The poor thing was simply lost. Auri smiled and put the doll in her pocket with the crystal. It was then she felt a tiny bump beneath one foot.
She takes a long look at a bone button, but it's right where it should be:
She pulled up the edge of the carpet, rolled it back, and found a small bone button underneath. Auri eyed it for a long moment before giving it an understanding smile. That wasn’t it either. The button was just as it should
That's it! That's a couple minutes in Auri's day. Nothing special. Nothing was nothing else. Nothing was anything it shouldn’t be.
Oh, how I wish that were true, but everything wasn't anything like the way it should be...
You grip the world in our hands and turn it against itself for a third time,
widdershins, the breaking way. The ground thrums off in the distance as if
struck by a giant hammer and a great wind strikes you. The earth writhes and splits
apart tearing forming chasm in the land before you. You know great answers lie on the other side,
so you ready yourself to jump. A hand on your shoulder brings you up short. Manet gives you a smile
and calmly sits, swinging his feet over the edge of the gap.
"You're too eager. You should go chase the wind." His old face holds a hint of childish amusement as his hands spread out to take in the open space before him.
"You said you used to chase the wind," You ask. “Did you ever catch it?”
“In some ways yes...” He motions you to join him on the ledge. "but do you really want to catch her or do you want to know her?"
"I'm afraid she might run forever, afraid she might not love me back..." You stare into the deep unknown.
"Don't be afraid, I'm here. Sit" His voice holds a touch of sadness. You nervously take a seat near the grizzly seer. "This is a good place for seeing" He motions out across the landscape: wind, sky, broken earth and darkness below. "It's an edge, with more than a hint of falling."
"What of falling?"
“If you fall, you fall,” Manent shrugged. “Sometimes falling teaches us things too. In dreams you
often fall before you wake.”
"wake from what dream..." He puts a finger over your lips and points upward. You look up to the night sky, full
of unfamiliar stars, but they paint no picture nor tell you any tales. You see movement in
the corner of your eye and look down just in time to see Manet push off from the
ledge. He hangs in-front of you above the chasm." You know the name of the
wind?" He gives a sad smile and shakes his head, then his arms move above him in a quick cutting fashion. His body seems to go rigid, his head slumps and he begins to fall. As the darkness takes him, his eyes flash open. They are clear and utterly, hopelessly sane.
Without love, the fire
Without joy, the salt
Without wind, the fall
Were going to retrace our steps with Auri.
Only now instead of looking will be seeing. When Auri enters Wains, were presented with a fresco painting on the ceiling.
There were broad frescoes decorating the ceiling.
~ Auri SROST "The Far Below Bottom of Things" 26
A fresco is a technique of mural painting, commonly used in cathedrals. You have likely seen part of the "Creation of Adam" by Michelangelo, but take a look at the full piece on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Here is the upper part of The Fall and Expulsion from Paradise:
The one Auri sees has women and men scantily clothed or naked, lounging and frolicking about:
Women in gauze lounged about, whispering and rubbing oil on each other. Men frolicked about in the water, flapping around ridiculously in their absolute altogether.
This is the Fae, those she sees are faen in there revelry:
I'm not saying she is seeing a painting of the Fae. I'm saying, she is seeing the Fae. The dark wood paneling are trees, the men and women are Fae and mortal guest unabashedly enjoying each others company.
Let me draw your attention to some other aspects of "The sitting room" as Auri calls refers to it. It has a chandelier with bluewhite light reflecting on a crystal chandelier.
Above her, bluewhite light scattered off a crystal chandelier. Dark wood paneling ~ Auri
Much like the sky above our young hero Kvothe, miles, days and worlds away in the Fae.
I was reminded of a vast, empty cathedral swathed in sooty velvet. ~ Kvothe
Kvothe is reminded of a Cathedral, here is an arch from the Durham Cathedral:
And the imagery were given in The Slow Regard of Silent Things:
Auri called this room Annulet, which is the decorative part of a pillar or column. which are would be in picture above if it showed a bit more of the pillar going down. Pillars, similar to what kvothe likens the tree trunks to...
Light swelled and I caught a moment’s glimpse of our surroundings. Dark trunks of trees rose like massive pillars as far as the eye could see. ~ Kvothe
The Chandelier's bluewhite light, reflected on his eyes...
There were no low-hanging branches, no undergrowth, no grass. Only dark moss underfoot and the arch of dark branches overhead. I was reminded of a vast, empty cathedral swathed in sooty velvet. ~ Kvothe
The carpet moss beneath Auri's toes:
plush of the carpet was sweet beneath her feet, like moss... ~ Auri
it's pleasant touch one Felurian knows:
So I followed, naked and unprepared. Felurian struck out at a good pace, the moss muffling the sound of our bare feet. ~ Kvothe
Now, like Kvothe we travel naked, unprepared, and with mounting terror, for on the edges of our memory we know what comes next. It reaches from the dark corners of our mind, the air draws tight in our throats...
Kvothe knows neither the names of the stars, or the secrets they hold. He sees the surface and can't fathom the depths bellow, and so he makes a foolish show:
Thinking myself clever, I made a sympathetic binding for light and held my hand above my head as if it were a torch. I was more than slightly proud of this, as the motion-to-light binding is rather difficult without a piece of metal to use as a focus. Light swelled and I caught a moment’s glimpse of our surroundings. Dark trunks of trees rose like massive pillars as far as the eye could see. There were no low-hanging branches, no undergrowth, no grass. Only dark moss underfoot and the arch of dark branches overhead. I was reminded of a vast, empty cathedral swathed in sooty velvet. ~ Kvothe
Felurian heard the deep tremble and so she makes a hasty gamble, two hearts beat as one...
“ciar nalias!” Felurian snapped. An instant later Felurian leapt at me and bore me to the ground, her lithe, naked body pressed against mine. ~ Kvothe
Now something wicked this way comes. For though the stars seem tiny from afar...
and when she bent down to run her fingers over the hush of it, she glimpsed a tiny whiteness underneath the couch. ~ Auri
they too can scar...
She was full of broken glass and burrs. She was weary and disappointed with all of everything. ~ Auri
And you would not want to meet them as they truly are...
She reached deep into the shadows with a small white hand, having to stretch a bit before her fingers caught it. ~ Auri
so stay still as selas...
There was a soft sound of movement above us, as if someone was folding a huge piece of velvet around a piece of broken glass. Saying that I realize it makes no sense, but still, that is the best way I can describe the sound. It was a soft noise, the half-heard sound of deliberate movement. I cannot tell you why it made me think of something terrible and sharp, but it did. My forehead prickled with sweat, and I was filled with a sudden pure and breathless terror.
~ Kvothe
small as edgeless round bone....
Felurian spoke a gentle, edgeless word. I felt it press against my skin, sending silent ripples through the air the same way a thrown stone makes circles on the surface of a pond. ~ Kvothe
She pulled up the edge of the carpet, rolled it back, and found a small bone button underneath. Auri eyed it for a long moment before giving it an understanding smile. That wasn’t it either. The button was just as it should. ~ Auri
and pray they leave you alone.
A languid moment passed, then she laughed, her body shaking with it. It was wild and delighted, as if she had just played the most marvelous joke. ~ Kvothe
You came to this world seeking deep magic, things to help you imagine what might be and to lose yourself in. Even in fantasy, we like our demons far away, quests we can conquer and return safely to our soft beds. But what do the shadows want? What is their need, song and story? Huddled all alone, under all of everything, broken and beautiful, what do the shadows dream of?
Your walking through a forest, the grass is cool under your bare feet. The dark
trunks reach far above, forming a scattered canopy. The slender moon gives enough light
to see a gentle stream far off and across it stands a stone inn. Wil, just ahead, stops
and finally breaks the silence. He seems sad; Sim is nowhere to be seen. Wils
dark eyes find yours, and he speaks. You listen with half an ear as you bend to
inspect three perfect pinecones in a row. You give a slight chuckle. Then your
brows furrow... You take a moment and respond, sure you misheard him.
"When your wives are angry, you sleep in the fire?" You turn to look up at him quizzically. But he is gone; instead, Penthe gives you a pleasant kiss on the cheek.
"no, no.. " she bats at you playful, then her twilight eyes go sudden serious, "A
man plays no role in it." You know she is wrong.
You are Kvothe, trained at the Medica. She cuts your thoughts off by clasping
your hands inside hers and bringing her head down to whisper between the secret
space the entangled fingers make.
"A man must give a woman fire if he wants to sleep." Her lids flicker like butterflies, and her eyes are deep pools you could drown in. You feel a pleasant
heat start to rise. To offset it, you stare intently at her hands. But they burst apart as Celean makes Sun Coming from Behind A Cloud.
"I am Celean, and I will learn all the secret ways!" She is dancing
backward. Behind her looms the sword tree, only now the leaves are cut-tail
glass, and they no reflect no light from the day's sun. You know you can't reach
her in time, you lunge anyway, you grasp her hands.. only to find your clutching Dennas.
You're near the Greystone with her once more. The winter fills your lungs and burns deep into your bones.
I stopped breathing for two minutes and died. She doesn't speak the words.
There etched like crawling vines on her arms, her chest, and across her face in
black ink. You both hang above the Greystone in the open air. You firmly perched
on the wind, her slipping from your grasp, to fall into its open door. Your
muscles ache. If you only had rope, wine, or time to explain.
She looks through your eyes. She knows you will let her go. She doesn't blame
you, there isn't much of her left to hold and she has betrayed you. You tighten,
tense, a finger slips. If only could make a binding with your blood, but no, you
are bloodless, a hallow bell, and when the wind strikes you there is no sound.
You do not let go.
You scream, and the mountains tear themselves apart-- your both falling. Your
hands bound as one. Auri holds you tightly as the darkness reaches to take you.
"Don't be afraid" She says softly. "I'm here. You're safe." The Draccus roars, and its blue flame consumes you both.
You are alone once more, only wood and stream and stone. The full moon hangs alone in the sky. You see flames dance upon
trees off to the south, you hear their cries for help. The sound of a broken pipe carries upon the wind and true copper
tabor strides upon the land once more. Your legs buckle and your knees sear with pain. A single wretched gasp escapes
your lips, then another... your tears are hot blood upon the ground.
The dream fades, we try in vain to grasp at it. Like catching start light in our hands, we feel like river water, and then as the haze lifts, it slips from our hands. Were left with only an image in our minds eye we see a shape, a circle, once whole, now twisted upon itself like a snake
Later Auri give her new and "perfect circle of a sitting" the name Annulet, which the dictionary gives several meanings:
Heraldry:
- In heraldry, an annulet (i.e. "little ring") is a common charge. It may allude to the custom of prelates to receive their investiture per baculum et annulum ('by rod and ring').
A charge would the emblem, the from of a shield here. The single annulet, the circle.
Architecture:
- a small architectural molding or ridge forming a ring.
- a small fillet or band encircling a column.
Focusing on the architectural definition, were given:
An annulet is also a narrow flat moulding, common in other parts of a column, viz. the bases, as well as the capital. It is so called, because it encompasses the column round. In this sense, annulet is frequently used for baguette or little astragal.
In short, a decorative part of a column. Annulets, and similar mouldings (a strip of decorative material to cover transitions) are often used in columns as part of the overall architecture of churches and cathedrals.
MANET / MANENT: Common Latin stage directions found in the margins of Shakespearean plays. Manet is the singular for "He (or she) remains." Manent is the plural form for multiple individuals. Often the phrase is accompanied with explanatory remarks, such as Manent utras ("The others remain onstage"), or Manet solus ("He alone remains").
citations are as follows: Book:Chapter:page
Its likely the pages are inconstant between books.
Note i'll be citing the books OH and TLT by just Book::Page leaving out the chapter sense each story is just one chapter itself
Bonus books, it would be proper to have them, but not strictly necessary:
SROST Chapters so I can use numbers:
