The memories pile in behind, full of grief. Narayedaran's face the last time Inric saw him, saying farewell - and the grave he had visited during his convalescence. "Because of you..." Anvar's grief and his own, kneeling in front of Varin's grave with the blessing. Varin himself, Inric's brother, happy at his betrothal. "Your clan ties..." And Inric's own experience of the fighting, which had indeed eventually come to the Great Library, and the lasting sorrow of the graves clustered in the quiet forest. "How many people..." He bends over, unable to bear the anger, the grief and the betrayal, slamming one fist to the table. It doesn't help.