Elỳn ushered Brandyé and the Hochtraë into the inner courtyard, much to the guards’s displeasure, and the door was locked behind them. She led them to a dining hall under the great towers, and hot meat and fresh bread were brought to them swiftly. The Hochtraë dug in with gusto, but Brandyé was too stunned to consider eating. What Elỳn had said—could it possibly be true?
It was bitterly cold when Brandyé awoke. All around him was white, and he could make little sense of what his eyes saw, or his fingers felt. A deep wind was blustering in his face, and he turned so that his back would shelter his front. Snow blew past him in great flurries, and he felt his feet rapidly grow numb.
Those few who were spared in Viura Râ were those who had sought protection under the roots of the high buildings, and Brandyé was among those. With him were Athalya and the Sarâthen, and some few of the Council of Erâth. The protection of Paräth had been paramount to some of these folk, though Brandyé could not understand why; to see such death and destruction wrought over such a thing brought nothing but tragedy to his thoughts, and for weeks he despaired.
Satis Writes 