Day Two

I did not sleep. I felt as if something was watching us as we camped beneath the tree. Yet when the light of dawn touched the camp, I felt relief, and my fears were dispelled – and the day brought a new joy: Merchand's humiliation! It is with no small amusement that I chronicle this – I watched Merchand, then his men, one by one – then in tandem, and finally a half-dozen, all take their hatchets to the tree, and the wood remained untouched! Merchand, finally, his face red, sought about seeking to chop the tree down with curses, to pry at the branches with hatchet and chop at it with sword – but to no avail. Had he not been so angry, I would have laughed, but the unease I had felt earlier in the day became stronger as night drew on and bid me to keep my tongue. More to my unease, I noticed that Merchand had made no signs of packing up camp – it seemed as if he would work in the light of the moon and the glow of the tree. Yet… the blue light within the tree's wood seemed sharper to my senses as he hacked at it, as if what was within was resisting his efforts. It may have been the trick of the light… but it seemed to grow stronger, pulsing like a heart after every stroke. Turning from the tree, I scanned the growing darkness, but saw naught but the blue lamps burning… except some… seemed moving, as if carried by men. What manner of men carry a flame of azoth to their chest? - “The Great Merchand” (i.e., Chronicler Yorke)