“I want you to carry a message to Whin of the Wildflowers,” Bane said, catching Kae by surprise. “What message, my king?” “That she is to curse the weaver’s kail yard.” Kae exhaled, but a chill traced her spine. “Mirin Tamerlaine’s garden?” “Yes. The one that feeds this bard. Whin is to ensure that all crops, all fruit, all sustenance withers at once and remains dormant until I say they can grow again. And that goes for any other garden that tries to feed him. If it is every eastern kail yard, then so be it. Let famine come. It would not hurt the mortals to suffer at the expense of the bard.”
WTF
