serve our cause well, in both your imminent aspiration and indeed in ours as well.’
Osserc slowly nodded. ‘Well said. I shall leave at once-’
‘I would think morning will do. Perhaps even later. It will do us well to hear Calat Hustain’s thoughts on the matter of this threat, and his course of action beyond sending a troop out to investigate. We are now here as representatives of the Legion, and we must be direct in our offers to assist.’
But Osserc scowled. ‘Well enough for you, Hunn, but I am representative of nothing-’
‘Untrue. Here, and in the morning, you will stand in your father’s stead, and I will be certain to make the others aware of that.’
‘But what will I say to them?’
‘Nothing. Just listen and, if a sharp question pricks you awake, voice it. But be spare in your queries — let others ask the bulk of them, and heed well the conversations to follow.’
Osserc nodded, although he remained nervous.
‘See Sharenas over there?’ Hunn Raal asked. ‘She watches and listens — not to my cousins so eager to adopt her, but to Ilgast and Calat. Heed her methods, Osserc. She plays well these political scenes.’
‘We must learn more of this Vitr.’
‘We shall,’ Hunn Raal assured him. And probably have little say in the matter, for I feel events quickening.
Sharenas had watched Tulas leave the room, had observed with interest the man’s sudden acuity. Dead in spirit he might be, but in the matter of salvation of others — in this case his betrothed — he was first to the fore. In fact, she could almost see the lurid flames ignited in him, this potential opportunity to die in defence of the woman he was to take as wife, and so live pure in noble grief for ever, rather than descend into the squalid truths of an unhappy marriage, where old ashes would begin settling on glory before the last stone was set on the threshold of their new home.
There was something almost pathetic in Kagamandra’s energy as he prepared to set out into the night in search of Faror Hend. This was a man who would wither without hands and feet, without the promise of sure motion and actions to undertake with verve and will. But those brave expostulations were all short-lived, the echoes of deeds quickly falling away, and what was the poor man left with, but a renewed silence or, worse, the unheard howl inside his own skull? No, far better these hands in motion, these feet to carry him; better all these things that need doing, and indeed could be done with.
To bind a broken man, by word or thread or chain, was ever a lost cause. Worse yet, how likely was the broken man to in turn break all that was given to him, including young Faror Hend? Was it not Gallan who wrote ‘ On trembling floor / ashes will flow ’, and would not Faror’s world tremble so in the company of Kagamandra Tulas? He will dust her, coat her from head to toe, and she will become the hue of stone, a statue blind to every garden. Gallan, you should write about this betrothal, and set it well upon a stage. I see knives in the wings.
Serap leaned close, ale-soured breath hot on Sharenas’s cheek, ‘Join us tonight, will you? See how heated it’s all become? Blood rushes close under the skin at times like these.’
‘What times would those be?’ Sharenas asked drily.
On Serap’s other side, Sevegg giggled behind her hand.
Hunn Raal’s whores. That’s all they are. He brings them and casts them out among those he would make into allies or, Abyss forbid, friends. But I’m not interested in that, dear captain. I fall in on your cause, as will my sister and cousin. Be content with that, lest you sour my regard. She stepped away from the cousins, evading a drunken paw from Risp, and strode from the main room.
In the small compound, she found Tulas saddling a horse. Six Wardens were doing the same with their own mounts, while a dozen of their comrades checked over the kits of those soon to leave the fort. Lanternlight played out yellow and filled with night insects. Sharenas found a groom standing nearby and gestured him over. ‘Ready my horse,’ she told him. ‘I will ride with them.’
The boy hurried away.
Looking up, she saw Tulas staring across at her.
Sharenas walked to him. ‘You know my skill with a spear,’ she said.
He continued studying her for a moment longer, and then turned back to his horse. ‘You are most welcome, Sharenas Ankhadu, and I thank you.’
‘There is too little love in the world to see it so endangered.’
She saw how her words made him stiffen — but slightly, as he was a man used to self-control. ‘Have you spoken to Spinnock Durav?’ she asked.
‘I did, before exhaustion took him.’
‘Then we have a trail awaiting us.’
‘Yes.’
The groom returned with her horse. She resigned herself to a long, wearying ride. But she was determined to witness this pursuit. Anyway, better the horse than the whore. If that Durav had eyes open this night, well, I might have stayed in the fort. A most handsome young warrior.
I wonder if Finarra and Faror shared him out there in the wilds?
Amused by the thought, she climbed into the saddle and took up the reins.
The others were ready. The gate was opened once more this night, and they all rode out.
Ensconced in the commander’s private room, modest as it was, Ilgast Rend settled in the rickety chair, wincing as it creaked beneath him. Opposite him, in a matching chair, Calat Hustain asked, ‘Your thoughts on what she had to say, Lord?’
Ilgast rubbed hard at his eyes, blinked away swimming blots of colour, and then scratched down through his beard, considering. ‘I spared them no room, commander.’
‘Ah, of course. The efforts at healing must try you, Lord. I admit to a sense of wonder, at this rare skill with earth and heat, moulds and roots. Upon battle’s field, I have seen miracles performed with sharp knife and gut and thorn, but this mysterious sorcery you have found in such mundane things, it is most astonishing.’
‘There is power in nature,’ Ilgast replied, ‘and what is often forgotten is that nature lies within us as much as it does out there, amidst high grasses or shoreline. To heal is to draw across the divide; that and nothing more.’
‘It is said that such power grows.’
Ilgast frowned at the suggestion, not because he would deny it, but because the notion — which he himself sensed — disturbed him. ‘It was ever my belief, commander, that we who blinked the mist clear from our eyes, and so saw truly the flow of life, were but privileged, by quirk of temper or gift of vision. We beheld a power in constancy, yet one unaware of itself. Of no mind, if you will. Neither living nor dead; rather, like the wind.’ He paused, chewing on those thoughts, and then sighed and shook his head. ‘But now, I grow to sense… something. A hint of deliberation. Purpose. As if, in taking from the power, it shifts a shoulder and sets regard upon the taker.’
‘That is… strange, Lord.’
‘As if in looking down into the river,’ Ilgast continued, his frown deepening, ‘one discovers the river looking back up at you. Or a stone returning stern attention. A glance catching the eye of earth, or sand.’ He rubbed vigorously at his face again. ‘It leaves one startled, I tell you, as if in an instant the world is unmade, and all its comforts are revealed as false, and the solitude we’d thought private was in truth played out before a silent audience; and the minds that gave thought to all we did, why, they think nothing like us.’
He saw Calat Hustain look away, into the fire.
‘Forgive me, commander,’ Ilgast said, with a gruff laugh. ‘Healing wearies me. There is a Shake word to describe that sense, as of the myriad things in nature giving sudden and most fixed attention upon a person, and the uncanny shiver that comes of it.’
Calat nodded, eyes still on the fire. ‘ Denul.’
‘Just so.’
‘But the monks speak of it as a kind of ecstasy. A moment of spiritual revelation.’
‘And if the revelation diminishes the self? What ecstasy is found in that?’
‘That of helplessness, I should imagine.’
