He shook his head. “My task is far from done, Shananara. I might have found the demon child, but in case you haven’t noticed, she’s sailing away from us, as we speak, into real danger.”
“Tarja seems more than capable of taking care of her.”
“Kalianah has made certain of that.”
“Oh dear, what did she do?”
“She interfered. As she usually does. The Goddess of Love thought R’shiel might be more tractable if somebody loved her.”
“And she chose a human? That’s cruel.”
“Maybe. He probably has a better grasp of the situation than R’shiel does.”
Shananara sighed. “She is very young yet and not fully comprehending of her situation. She will come around eventually. And Tarja will see that she is safe.”
Brak glanced at the Princess. “You’ve been in Sanctuary too long, Shananara. There’s a big, nasty world out there. Tarja’s got some very human ideas about honor. He is planning to take on the entire Defender Corps with a handful of hopeful farmers. R’shiel is in more danger than you can possibly imagine. You may be right, thinking she will come around, but I’m more concerned that she lives long enough to do it.”
“But what can we do? We can’t get involved in a human war.”
“No, but I know somebody who wouldn’t mind a bit. And he’s quite fond of Tarja in a bloodthirsty, warrior sort of way.” He laughed at her puzzled expression. “Don’t try figuring it out. You simply wouldn’t understand. It’s a human thing.”
“Just tell me if you can help them or not.”
“If Lady Elarnymire and her brethren can take the form of something strong enough to fly me south, I think I can. If you could ask Brehn to stall our little band of reckless humans with some unfavorable winds, I think I can bring help in time. It will take me less than a day to get where I’m going. On sorcerer-bred mounts, help could be in Testra within a few weeks.”
“Sorcerer-bred mounts?” Shananara asked. “You’re going to Hythria, then? You’re not planning to involve the Sorcerer’s Collective, are you? Korandellen wanted you to find the demon child, Brak, not change the entire political climate in three nations. Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“No. I don’t even know if it will work. But I am sure that I will have killed Lorandranek for nothing, if the child I saved by taking his life is hanged as an escaped convict, before she can do what she was born for.”
Shananara looked unconvinced. “I don’t know, Brak...”
“Let me put it this way. The gods want to get rid of Xaphista, and they can’t kill one of their own kind. That’s why they need R’shiel. If she dies, they will demand another demon child.”
“I know that, but—”
“If the gods demand another demon child, Shananara, either you or Korandellen will have to conceive a half-human child and risk the insanity that destroyed Lorandranek. Are you sure that’s what you want?”
“He speaks wisely,” Dranymire agreed. “We must do what we can to protect the demon child, and if that means involving ourselves once again in human affairs, then so be it. Lorandranek never intended the Harshini to withdraw permanently.”
“Perhaps you’re right. Maybe the time has come for us to step forward again. Go then Brak, and may the gods speed you on your journey. I will speak with the God of Storms. And Maera. I will see that R’shiel is delayed until you can bring help.”
Brak nodded and walked over to Lady Elarnymire, who chittered excitedly as he approached. She had missed him during his long absence from Sanctuary and was still in a state of excitement over his return. He did not want her and her brethren losing their concentration mid-flight. Demons in their natural form were no more able to fly than he was. He would not ask them to form another dragon. Dragons were spectacular, but they were complex creatures and hard to maintain. A large bird would be better, one with speed and agility and no desire to swoop down on a herd of hapless cattle whenever it felt hungry. He squatted down and patted the demon fondly, explained what he needed, then turned to Shananara as a rather alarming thought occurred to him.
“When you return to Sanctuary, you might want to prepare Korandellen for the worst,” he suggested.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I’m not sure how he’s going to take the news that Lorandranek’s long-awaited child was raised by the First Sister to be a Sister of the Blade.”
chapter 56
It took nearly three weeks to return upriver to Testra on a journey that had taken a tenth of that time downstream. It was partly the fault of the fickle river winds, partly because Drendik insisted on docking by the riverbank at night, and partly because the boat was plagued with minor mishaps that were almost too numerous to be coincidental.
On their third night out, the steering gear jammed, and it took the Fardohnyans nearly two days to fix it. After that, it was just one thing after another. A sail tore inexplicably. The hull developed a crack in the forward hold, and they began taking on water. When they got that under control, the aft hold sprang a leak. Finally, when everything on the boat appeared to be in working order, the winds dropped, and Drendik found himself sitting in the middle of a river that seemed determined to push them south with the current. The Fardohnyans dropped anchor and muttered about the gods no longer favoring them. Drendik even suggested making an offering, to appease their obvious displeasure. But nothing they did seemed to have any affect. Tarja fretted at the delay, but R’shiel found herself welcoming it. The river was peaceful, the Fardohnyans were embarrassingly solicitous of her comfort, and she was, for the moment, safe.
Ghari and Tarja had spent the first few days closeted together, forming their plans for their assault on the Defenders. Tarja was anxious to find Jenga before Joyhinia landed in Testra, certain that the Lord Defender could be persuaded to listen to him. He was equally concerned that they not force an armed confrontation with the Defenders in any great number. The rebels had courage and fervor aplenty, but little in the way of weapons or training. They were guerrilla fighters, not disciplined troops. In any organized, head-on confrontation, even outnumbered, the Defenders would slaughter them. But once their plans were made, reviewed, amended, and then reviewed again, there was nothing left for the two rebels to do but wait, and worry, and wait some more.
R’shiel found herself with more idle time than she’d ever had in her life. Drendik needed no convincing that she was the demon child and was determined to treat her accordingly. She was allowed to do nothing for herself. The Fardohnyans insisted on calling her “Your Highness” or “Princess” or even “Divine One,” which made her squirm uncomfortably. Shananara te Ortyn was a Harshini Princess – beautiful, poised, and trained to handle her magic with the delicate touch of a master. No matter how tempting the knowledge that she had a name and a family of her own, the part of R’shiel raised in the bosom of the Sisterhood did not want to accept her “fate.”
Tarja appeared to be amused by her dilemma when he finally emerged from his war council with Ghari. He advised her to enjoy the Fardohnyans’ attention while it lasted. R’shiel retorted that it was all right for him; nobody was trying to bow and scrape every time he tried to blow his nose. Tarja had laughed at her complaints and offered to treat her like she was still back in the Grimfield, if that would make her feel better. R’shiel stormed off and didn’t speak to him for the rest of the day.
But the slow river journey sealed the final healing layer on R’shiel’s battered soul as they painstakingly wound their way north. Her nightmares of Loclon and the savagery of Elfron’s staff were, if not forgotten, at least no longer unbearable. How much of her newfound peace was the result of Shananara’s healing, and how much was simply her own inner strength, she had no idea.
Finally, a day south of Testra, Drendik bumped the
