852-858: The Daggers of Krrgan

And Krrgan had a blade that blazed with Night

(for then the Shadow and the Night were friends)

that took, from its surroundings, bits of light,

and turned them to its own shadowy ends.

With one, he modeled many more, and made

a host of relic daggers full of dark,

that spoke to those who held their handled blade,

and whispered his words to those who would hark.

His words were of great value to all rogues,

for Rogue was he, if not the First, the Best,

who knew of both clandestines and of vogues,

and knew exactly how, both, one might wrest.

These Krrgan’s Daggers six I shall denote,

if e’er one finds one’s scabbard in his coat:

One of Six: Want

The first held his ambition, avarice,

his lust, not just for gold, but for its thought,

for all that even lovers of gold miss:

what it can give—and what it can give not.

And should you use its guidance to find gold,

and use it not to gain, but to withdraw,

not buying, but, from others, to withhold,

you’ll see the blade itself open its jaw:

and it shall tell you all of usury,

and you shall be a creditor indeed,

not of gold and its reticence only,

but of all kinds of garish, gilded greed.

You’ll be, at first, the median of Want,

and find, at last, you divvy out its font.

Two of Six: Need

The second held what Want alone could not,

what Want only admired and endured:

what Want could mimic in a passing thought,

but was only the semblance (if preferred).

Though should you make one pay for it the same,

the very way they might pay for desire,

this blade will be the one that you may blame

for how far deep you fall into its mire.

For if you hearken to it, you shall turn

the very needs of all men into wants;

and you shall make the hearts of good men burn

to pay for rights in that which only vaunts.

You will be owner of your circle’s Need,

and turn necessity into more greed.

Three of Six: Pleasure

The third held something much like want, but keen:

self-centered was its pining, pleasure-prone,

wanting for what was wanting to be seen—

at least by the eyes of the wielder’s own.

Should this knife’s edge be used to plunder bliss

out from another’s grasp, beware: you’ll get:

but from its soul-assuaging honeyed kiss,

will more than happy memories beget.

For from that moment onward, every face

will tell to you its dearest, desperate wish—

you’ll know well how to mimic tender grace,

and how to lure men like free-flowing fish.

The blade will tell it all and not hold back,

and you will find pleasure in others’ lack.

Four of Six: Fulfilment

The fourth was foil, too, still, of the third,

which was for pleasure—this one, for its part,

was the fulfilment of that very word:

the pleasure, not of body, but of heart.

If you can win, with this blade, any man

his dream: his heart’s most actual import,

you’ll realize not just the race he ran,

but realize the race of every sort.

And written on the eyes of all you see

shall be not only wishes, but fond hopes:

that which even their darkest parts agree

should be, even if all their wants be copes.

The knife shall tell it to you, and the drink

of yearning shall bring your own to the brink.

Five of Six: Lust

The fifth held want and pleasure in extreme,

in its most raw and most unmetered form,

that wants not just for milk, but for the cream,

that pleasures only in what might adorn.

And if you listen well—give gushingly—

until the puppets of your string are tired,

the blade will guide you, almost lovingly,

to those who are by lusts already mired.

Then you will be their savior: he who came

with more, when more there was not any more.

Then more will come, for they will say the same

to those who moored them first onto lust’s shore.

This is the simplest of all Krrgan’s plays,

but watch, lest you, too, fall for its assays.

Six of Six: Love

The sixth, at last, the opposite of five,

tho easily masked with similar hues,

you’ll want to make your quarries feel alive,

more even than lust can despite its woos.

You’ll tell all that you’ve learned from all before,

and tell it in that voice that says no ill,

and say what all you’ve learned, and then some more:

you’ll say that it is all Love’s very will.

And if you’ve done your part well, spun your web,

your flies will all believe it. And their hearts

will sing! Their last resistances will ebb,

and praise the lies you bring, your lurid arts.

But lastly, if you’ve gone all of this way,

not your voice, but to Krrgan’s you obey.