“They did give me something else,” Mat whispered, looking down at the ashandarei in his hands as the Aelfinn began to hiss more loudly. Thus is our treaty written; thus is agreement made. It was carved on the weapon. The blade had two ravens, the shaft inscribed with words in the Old Tongue. Thought is the arrow of time; memory never fades. Why had they given it to him? He had never questioned it. But he had not asked for a weapon. What was asked is given. The price is paid. No, I didn’t ask for a weapon. I asked for a way out. And they gave me this.
