This is a story told to children, part of the long cycle of beast fables and so-called "table tales" that common minstrels, verhals, and chanters are allowed to tell. Pardians of Nuroshka disdain such raffish yarns and claim the right to tell the true histories of the Uzmani, which are rich and complex. Table tales are the more popular for these and other reasons.

In the days when the ground was new and Ulundre had not yet found out all the paths of the world, but after Hechramon had giv. . .

Leaf crouched like a spider in the narrow alcove, the stones of the floor pressing cold through her leggings. Her long, thin limbs were folded into as small a bundle as she could manage. She closed her eyes and leaned forward, listening.

From the hallway came the sounds of movement: the scuff of boot soles on stone, the clink of mail shirts, the rough whisper of men’s voices, too low to make out the words. Leaf inhaled slowly, willing herself to fade into the dark recess.

A moment . . .