Dear Olly,

I am sitting here under this protruding rock and think of all sorts of things. I was awoken a few days ago by an old man. He told me he was another one of my trade and had been hired by my teacher and the Lodge of Sturreland to return me. But my banishment is until 2-1-3, so I still have time either way and I intend to use it. He also gave me a letter from my teacher. He sounds genuinely worried, and I hate to do this to him, but out here, close to the never-ending ice, I have come too close to turn around.

I managed to escape the old guy, but his eagle gave me a hard chase. For quite some time I hurried up the slopes away from the blue eyes' plains until I arrived at a river springing forth from the rock face many hundred feet above and tumbling down over huge boulders and rocks. No ship will pass up or down this river. I heard that it flows out of the lake in the crater through an underground cavern. I decided to take a tiny goat path I saw when approaching the walls of stone.

When I was climbing up another rock wall, I saw that damn bird again, but found shelter in a small cave. I was afraid it would start pecking at me and force me to abandon my climb. The trail is narrow most of the time, but I can make it almost straight over the mountain instead of searching for an easier pass. If I had done that, the guy with the bird would have caught up with me for sure.

When I was over the peak, I finally saw the crater. It reaches almost all the way to the horizon; I would take at least seven days to cross all the way through it. The mountain mass that encircles it looks like the rim of a bowl for giants. In the middle is the lake, always steaming and in a perfect bright blue, with a large cloud of mist in the centre. Many torrents flow and fall from the stone cliffs of the rim downward to the blue lake, the river flowing out vanishes in a crevice below the mountain. And at night, a thousand dancing pillars of light rise from the ground all the way up to the stars. I cannot describe it, this beauty is beyond words, so sad it comes from yet another wound dealt to our world. How I wish you would have stood there with me.

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I could hear the spirits sing of pain, asking the seamstresses to be careful where on their tapestry they place the needle and thread while stitching it back together. There is a small village at the river leaving the crater, but I could see no fishing ships on the lake. It is probably a deep place of power. The salt river with its fiery ley-line is a timid trickle against this. It must be a brave folk that lives here.

My right shoulder is intact and painless. The flesh transmutation was still mighty frightening. I could have really screwed myself up that way. I might have more luck that sense at times.

Ssil is eagerly awaiting our arrival at the lake. On some days, she tries to push me just a few more yards before making rest for the night.

Until we meet again, in love,

Nannade.