Tormada: My queen! Sibeth: You called for me. Tormada: Tell her what you hear. Soldier: Nothing. Sibeth: Nothing? Soldier: No voices. No tools. No sizzle of pans or fires in the pits. No babies crying. Just the muffled sounds of many feet.
Your children feel your absence every bit as much as I do. But their futures, the ones you gave your life to ensure, stretch out before them with infinite promise.