"You are free to study my shackle if you'd like."

"I might, if I had the slightest idea what to look for."

Kastimund shrugs.

"I wouldn't know."

"It's a problem, and I hate not being able to solve problems."

"I apologize for upsetting you with the unsolvable state of my ongoing eternal torture."

"Charming, but unnecessary."

"Mm," is his reply, and he turns away to watch the scenery again.

The scenery is lovely. Esere did good work.

Riale puts trees and rocks and small hills into the book as they pass. He's getting faster about it.

Good for him.

Kastimund doesn't seem like he'd like to engage in any conversation.

Then they can fly to Dawnbrook in silence.

The sun climbs the sky, passing from the Twilight face ahead of them up into Light above. Riale doesn't see any scenery he needs to stop for. When the sun peaks at noon, he eats lunch. In the afternoon he starts filling the book with people. Every single one is a true copy.

Apparently a whole few hours is as long as Kastimund can tolerate the silence before boredom wins out against being sullen.

"Do you tire of getting everything in the book perfectly on the first try?"

"Do you expect me to?"

"It seems like it might get old, after a while."

"I truly can't imagine why."

"Magnified sense of achievement when you do reach perfection?"

"Mm. No. I don't have time to be less than perfect."

"Fair enough." Sigh. The end of the world: why does it mess with proper narrative structure. Why.

"Besides, there's still one imperfect picture in this book."

Smile.

"Indeed."

"Has anyone ever gotten any of the spirits into the book perfectly?"

"No."

"Hm."

Kastimund raises his eyebrows slightly.

"I wonder if it would help."

"Experiment with one of the others first. Saerith, maybe. Or Laisanni. I don't believe I'd like my page to match its fellows."