Keeper 1: By order of the Council of the Keepers, you must come with us. Garrett,
be reasonable. Logic dictates--
Keeper 1: But we must--
Keeper 2: Has your wealth of knowledge grown so vast, that you've lost all hunger for
more? Is there no more trust between us then?
Garrett: (sigh), let's make this fast.
Interpreter: (intermittent mumbling)
Translator: My hand is copper.
My brow is lead.
Suffer me in a red patina,
swept along in a molten flow
to a sad eternity.
My stride interrupted
my thoughts untimed
my tears are become drops of silver
and shattered the crystalline fern.
I plead the wind to sweep us away.
My alabastrine limbs, useless and tired,
my carnelian heart, beatless and mired.
Garrett: Nice poem.
Keeper 1: Not poetry: prophecy. The Metal Age is upon us.
Translator: I pick the gilded apple from the iron tree
I wipe the rust from my brow
The earth rejects me, foul and changed,
the wind refuses me, unsightly and maimed.
My voice is corrupted, my tongue unwind,
my pulse is mercurial sickened, it slows.
Garrett: Iron trees? Not in my part of town.
Keeper 1: Find the humour if you must. But can you tell me truly Garrett? Are there any
trees in your part of town? I will answer for you, there are not.
Translator: Destiny and danger are still focused on the one,
the renegade who is both brethren and betrayer.
Beware the spider, for he weaves both labyrinth and lair.
Garrett: Well, you've got the danger part right anyway. 'Tell you what: you Keepers
can plant a few shrubs about town. I'll take care of me. I'll find my own way home.
Keeper 1: You're a fool! Do you not understand what is at stake?
Orland: Did you not hear the Interpreter's words?
Keeper 2: Yes, Keeper Orland. He has heard. Do not despair. Let me go after him, alone.
Not to persuade, but to leave the door open between us.
One more moment, if you will, Garrett.
Garrett: One, moment.
Keeper 2: You have trouble, my friend. Danger from someone who hired Truart to kill you.
Keeper 2: Then take this. As soon you are done with your business, the sooner you will help us.
Garrett: Don't count on it.
Interpreter and Translator: My heart it ceases, my breath undrawn.
My eyes forever focused
on the sanguine metal dawn.