Part 19 (1/2)

He spent much of the time thinking of Reshel. He still missed her keenly; more than he would have thought possible. When he'd seen her body lying in a pool of blood atop the Sundering, he felt something break in his chest. In a way, his future ended in that moment, and even now he had not regained it. All of his dreams for the two of them together, no matter how unlikely, were still a possibility while she lived and felt the same way about him. There was always a chance they could have convinced the king to allow them to wed, and if no decision had been made before King Abran's death, he felt certain-well, relatively so-that Gerin would have sanctioned it.

But that future was gone. The future where they were together, happy and comfortable with each other, perhaps even with children. Sometimes that lost future was so vivid in his mind it was like a memory of something actually lived. And he still did not know what path his life would take. He was like a man wandering lost in a fog.

He thought of their time together and held it close to his heart, though the memories had edges and cut him as well. Memories of holding her hand and speaking quietly with her, their faces so close their noses sometimes touched, which made them both laugh. Of the excitement of stolen kisses, the scent of her fresh skin, her fingers twining through his hair, his hands cupping her face.

Tears would have sprung to his eyes from his pain if the Soul Stealer's power had allowed it. But it did not, and so he bore his pain in anguished, utter silence.

The wound of Reshel's loss was as fresh as ever, and he despaired of it ever healing.

When they stopped for the night at the edge of a small woods, she gave him some food and commanded him to eat. ”Some of those I've captured tried to starve themselves as a way to escape me,” she said in her strangely accented voice. ”There is no escape unless I grant it. The sooner you realize it, the better you will be.”

They did not make a fire. Sitting in the growing darkness, she said to him, ”What did you discover in those black Towers? I saw the destruction of the Steadfast army. Was it Gerin Atreyano who called the wall of blue fire? You may speak.”

He felt control of his voice return to him. It was a small, subtle change, and he was surprised at how relieved he felt.

”Who are you? Are you the same-”

”Silence.”

As quickly as it returned, the control of his voice vanished.

”You will only answer questions I ask. If I am pleased, I may allow you to speak more. If I am not pleased, you will remain silent until I deliver you to the Herolen, and I promise you that they will make you tell them whatever they want to hear. Tell me what you found in the Towers. Do not lie. Speak.”

Balandrick felt a deep compulsion to tell her everything he knew about the Watchtowers. He tried to resist, to say something, anything, else.

But her power was too great. He could not fight it, and the words spilled out of him.

Her eyes grew wide when he spoke of the Words of Making, the only emotion she had shown since capturing him.

”Do you know how to reach this fortress where the wizards live?” she asked.

”Yes.” Inwardly, he cursed himself for betraying Gerin. How can I be so weak? he thought miserably.

A wild, animated light danced across her dark eyes. ”You have told me more than I would have thought possible.” She fixed her stare upon him once more. ”You may ask me questions. Speak.”

His volition moved forward in his own mind, as if he were rising to the surface of the sea from dark depths. There was no other way to describe the sensation. He was now free to speak.

He wanted to weep, but he steeled himself. He needed to be strong if he hoped to escape and prevent her from taking the knowledge he'd just given her back to her masters.

”Are you the one who captured Gerin before?”

”Yes. That is obvious. Do not waste the gift I give you or I will silence you again.”

”Where will you take me? Are there-”

”Silence. I am no fool. I know you are trying to find a weakness in what I am doing, a way to escape.” She turned away from him, pondering what he had told her, leaving him to rage against her in the quiet s.p.a.ces of his mind.

For the first time, he realized she had never asked him his name.

Katel's mind raced with possibilities. The soldier had told her everything she had hoped to learn when she first set foot upon these sh.o.r.es with Rulhamad. That seemed so long ago now. A lifetime ago. So much had happened since then, but one thing remained constant-the fire in her heart that refused to be quenched despite her many setbacks.

Her hope for her son, Huma. Hope that she would one day see him again, and set him free from the bonds of the Harridan. That they could live normal lives without being shunned by all others of the Steadfast. She would rise above the life she had been given.

And now she had the means to do it. Knowledge of the Words of Making. What they were, and where they could be found.

With some satisfaction, she realized Gerin had not been lying to her when he said he knew nothing of the Words. She'd always known it had to be so-no one could defy her power-but had never been able to explain the discrepancy between what he'd said and what the Dreamers had seen in their visions. She was still not certain how the Dreamers could have seen him with the Words if he had yet to retrieve them from their hiding place within the circlet worn by this Archmage. Perhaps they saw a vision of the future but had not realized it as such. It was the only explanation she could think of.

Still, it was no matter if the Dreamers had seen the future or not. She knew the mystery of the Words. It was a secret she controlled, and this time she would accept nothing less than absolute freedom for herself and her son as the price of handing over this prize.

22.

What do you mean he's gone?” Therain asked the palace guard at the Tirthaig. ”Where?”

The man stammered and dropped his gaze to his toes, as if hoping beyond hope that the answer was inscribed somewhere on his boots. ”I-I don't know, my lord. All we've been told is that the king returned to his castle in the west-lands. No one's sure when he'll return.”

”Why would he go to Ailethon?” Therain said, more to himself than the guard. ”There's no need for him to go there.” The ancestral home of the Atreyanos was nominally in Therain's control since Gerin had ascended to the Sapphire Throne, though Matren Swendes was charged with the day-to-day administration of the castle and its holdings, which he did according to Therain's wishes. Therain had considered moving to Ailethon after his wedding, but having become comfortable in Agdenor, he decided to remain there, at least for the present.

”Again, I don't know, my lord. I wasn't told the reason, only that he was leaving.”

”Why isn't Gerin here?” asked Claressa behind him. ”His kingdom is under attack and he's taking a leisurely ride through the countryside?”

The guard looked up. ”Under attack, my lord?”

Therain turned to his sister, grabbed her upper arm firmly and said, ”Say nothing more, Claressa.”

She glared at him and crossed her arms, but remained silent.

”Repeat nothing of what you've heard here,” Therain said to the guard, but had no illusions that his command would be obeyed for longer than it took for him to leave the soldier's sight.

”Of course, my lord.”

A servant took them to Terl Enkelares, who was in his salon, poring over the most recent report from the Minister of Coin regarding the state of the treasury. When Therain and Claressa entered, he rose from his table and inclined his head.

”My lord, my lady, it is good to see you, though I admit to some surprise,” he said. ”I had no word that you were coming.”

”Then our messages did not reach you?” asked Therain. ”Have you heard anything about the Pelklander invasion?”

”What?” The minister's alarm was genuine. ”I have not. Please, my lord and lady, sit and tell me what's happened.”

Therain described the invasion of Tolthean. Claressa continually interrupted, interjecting her own comments about needing to hurry up so they could rain ”death, destruction, and despair” upon the vile islanders, until Therain barked at her to be quiet. ”You can give your account when I'm through, but for the sake of the G.o.ds, Claressa, let me finis.h.!.+”

When Therain concluded his account of the Pelklander troop movements and his belief that they were keeping to a relatively small area, Enkelares asked him a few pointed questions about armaments, supply routes, and total troop strength. Therain had deliberately not mentioned his newfound ability to control animals, and described Claressa's rescue in purely standard military terms, embellis.h.i.+ng where he needed to. Enkelares nodded, impressed with the prince's ability to retrieve his sister, then gestured to Claressa. ”My lady, please, I would hear your point of view. It must have been harrowing.”

”More than you can know, Minister.” She filled in more detail of the earlier parts of the invasion than Therain had been able to, then described her harrowing attempt to flee the castle as it fell. She tried to describe poor Elezan's death, but though her mouth worked, no sound came out. Tears filled her eyes and splashed down her cheeks.

Therain reached out and squeezed her hand. ”It's all right,” he said soothingly. ”We understand. Just move on.”