Relics of the Gods

The chair in the deepest part of the Iron Palace at Ironhold. Its back is woven of very fine lines of the old script, like a cloth that breathes, giving off a very faint silver light of its own. Whoever sits on it is called king.

On the inner side of the old king's breastbone something black and curved, shaped like a tooth, had grown, half of it forced out through the flesh. It gives off a very faint silver light — exactly the light on the back of the Throne.

There is a character on the surface of the old king's tongue, grown up out of the flesh, its strokes sunk into the tissue. The old scroll records: The first word appears upon the tongue of man, grows within the bone; the king dies.

A line of old law nobody likes to bring up: when the Throne calls a man's name, it calls three times. For the first two, a member of his family may answer for him, “He is not here.” The third he has to answer himself.