The Frugal Wizard's Handbook for Surviving Medieval England by Brandon Sanderson

Author:Brandon Sanderson
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781938570384
Publisher: Dragonsteel Entertainment LLC
Published: 2023-04-02T00:00:00+00:00

FAQ

Why Does Everyone in Britain Speak Modern English in My Pre-Norman-Conquest Dimension? Shouldn’t That Require an Incredible Alignment of Social and Linguistic Factors That Would Never in a Million Years Align in Such a Convenient Way?

Apparently not.

We started toward the manor. The crux of our plan again depended on me. Hopefully, it would go better this time. I didn’t want to resort to flaming words again; I did not trust them.

With Ealstan’s guidance, we kept to a less-traveled pathway. Perhaps someone would have noticed we didn’t belong in the full light of day, but at night, Ealstan’s bearing prevented anyone from questioning us. He looked like an official man on official business.

Again, I was struck by how small the town was. It was one of the largest settlements in the region—surpassed only by Maelport, the earl’s seat. Yet we reached the manor in less than a minute; this entire compound couldn’t be much larger than a football field.

The manor was similar to the one in Stenford—longer than it was tall, made entirely out of wood, but with open glassless windows showing a hearth’s glow from inside. A woman puttered around in front, setting out offerings. The runestone rested in a large, flat courtyard before the building. It was black and jagged across the top, and bigger than the one in Stenford, maybe four feet across and three times that tall.

This time, I couldn’t deny it. The symbols etched on the black stone were glowing a soft blue.

The three of us loitered in the shadows while the woman finished her work. “Hey,” I whispered. “Is the runestone here more powerful than the one in Stenford?”

“Yes,” Sefawynn said. “It was created to protect a larger area. It expels bogs and helps soothe helpful wights. Any residing in the region should help defend the city during an attack.”

“And my wight?” I said. “Will this affect it?”

“It might weaken it,” Sefawynn said. “The stone wants it to either settle down and protect the region, or to leave. Your wight is resisting both, staying bound to you. Whatever has attached to you—nicor, draca, or some variety we haven’t defined—it’s strong. Frighteningly so.”

“Wait,” I said. “How can you tell? How can you even see that I have a wight?”

“It’s a thing of skops,” Thokk said. “How could they know if a wight was bound or loosed if they couldn’t see the signs?”

How indeed. I glanced at Sefawynn, whose face was hidden in the shadows of her hood.

“So…” Thokk whispered. “Why are we sneaking about again?”

“Again, elder,” Ealstan said. “This is dangerous. Perhaps you should—”

“Why should I care if it’s dangerous?” Thokk said. “Do you know how old I am? I probably only have a few months left. Not much to risk here! So what are we doing?”

“Runian is going to persuade the reeve to tell us what he knows about Sefawynn’s brother,” Ealstan said. “Once we know his location, Sefawynn and I will free him while Runian distracts the reeve.”

It was the compromise we’d come to.

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