child was born, Xaphista redoubled his efforts to find us. We could not risk exposing ourselves, and Sanctuary would flare like a beacon to a Karien priest. Every time we return to real time, Death is waiting to claim those who have cheated him. There are no children to replace those who are lost.” She seemed to understand his confusion. “In case you’re wondering, that’s why everyone is so happy to see you. You will aid the demon child and she will remove the threat of Xaphista. Then we will be free once more.”
“Remove the threat of Xaphista? You mean kill him.”
Samaranan frowned. “Please don’t say it like that, Brak.”
“Why not? It’s the truth.”
“You know what I mean. You’ve been back for little more than a heartbeat. You could at least
“Forgive me,” he snapped. “I’ll try very hard not to mention the fact that Korandellan has brought me back to train Zegarnald’s pet assassin.”
She stopped and glared at him, her black eyes as close to anger as they were capable of getting. “Stop it! This is not easy for any of us. There is no need for you to make it even harder.”
“You think this is easy for me?”
Samaranan’s eyes softened and she reached out to touch his face. “I’m sorry, little brother. I forget sometimes what it must be like for you.”
“Don’t apologise, Sam. I shouldn’t be heaping all my anger on you. There’s a god or two I’d like to throttle, but it’s not your fault.” Brak smiled wanly. “I promise I’ll try to be as Harshini as I can while I’m here.”
Her relief was evident. “Thank you.”
They resumed their slow pace through the broad halls. Brak listened idly as Samaranan filled him in on the family happenings, which, considering how much time Sanctuary had spent removed from reality, was a fairly short list. There were no new nieces or nephews or cousins to celebrate. Only the demons, who could flit between dimensions at will, were able to reproduce – but even their numbers were starting to dwindle in the face of the Harshini’s prolonged withdrawal. The Harshini and the demons were interdependent, and the creatures could not sustain an increase in their numbers that the Harshini were unable to match. It occurred to Brak that if something were not done soon, the Harshini would no longer be simply hiding. Their current state of limbo would eventually prove fatal. The knowledge was an added burden he did not want or need.
They reached Korandellan’s chambers eventually, and the tall, delicately carved doors swung open at their approach. The King was waiting for them, his smile benign, his arms outstretched in welcome. The resemblance between him and the demon child took Brak by surprise. Korandellan was tall and lean and impossibly beautiful, as all the Harshini were. With the demons clustered behind Samaranan’s long skirts, Brak fell to his knees and lowered his head, surprised at his need for Korandellan’s benediction.
“You have no need to kneel before me, Brakandaran. It is I who should bow to you. You have suffered much on our behalf.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he retorted without thinking.
“Brak!” Samaranan gasped. Even the demons seemed appalled by his disrespect.
But the King laughed. “Oh, how I’ve missed you, Brakandaran! You are like a breath of fresh air. Come, get off your knees and let us talk as friends. Samaranan, tell your family to prepare a feast. Tonight we will welcome your lost brother home.”
“There’s really no need...” Brak began as he climbed to his feet. The King ignored his objections.
“Leave us now. Your brother and I have much to discuss.”
Samaranan bowed gracefully and backed out of the room. The demons followed her, subdued in the presence of the King. The doors swung shut silently as they departed. The King turned to Brak and his smile faded.
“What news have you of the outside world?”
“Nothing that is likely to bring you joy,” Brak warned. “The Defenders were in Testra when I left. They were making plans to move north, to protect their border from the Kariens.”
“Shananara tells me you went to Hythria.”
“I indulged in a bit of theatrics, I’m afraid,” he admitted. “The Defenders needed help and I had to stop them killing the demon child. I made a rather dramatic appearance in Krakandar and convinced Damin Wolfblade to form an alliance with them.”
“The High Prince’s heir?” Korandellan shook his head with a faint smile. “You never did listen to me when I told you about the dangers of interfering with mortal politics. But... perhaps such an alliance might eventually bring peace between Medalon and Hythria, so in this case, I will forgive you.”
“You always forgive me, your Majesty. It’s your one fault.”
“I have more than one, I fear. And what news of the Kariens?”
“As soon as word reaches them about the death of their Envoy, they’ll have the excuse they’ve been looking for to invade Medalon.”
“Then war is unavoidable?” The King looked pained even contemplating such an idea.
“I’m afraid so.”
“And Fardohnya? What is Hablet doing? It is unlike him to let such momentous events take shape without him trying to turn it to his advantage.”
“I wish I knew,” Brak told him with a shrug. “A couple of years ago he was making overtures toward Hythria. He sent one of his daughters to meet with Lernen Wolfblade, but I don’t know that anything came of it. It’s hard to tell with Hablet. He makes and breaks treaties as if they were piecrusts. You should think about sending someone to his court, now that the word is out that the Harshini still live.”
The King shook his head. “I risked much in letting Shananara aid you, and I cannot sleep for fear of the danger Glenanaran and the few others who have returned to the outside might be in. The High Arrion has promised me that the Sorcerer’s Collective will protect our people in Greenharbour, but we are not revered in the manner we once were. Our seclusion appears to have left us unprepared for the human world. Her assistance will come with a price, I suspect. Besides, Fardohnya is too close to Karien. I would not put it past Hablet to see some advantage in dealing with the Kariens, and I would not willingly give him a hostage.” Korandellan walked to the balcony that overlooked the broad, sun-kissed valley. He studied it for a long moment before he spoke again. “A part of me rejoices to see you again, Brakandaran. Another part of me fears what your appearance heralds.”
“And just exactly what does my appearance herald?”
Korandellan did not answer immediately. When he did, he completely changed the subject. “The demon child lives.”
“Cheltaran healed her, then?” It was a relief to learn that his journey had not been in vain.
“Yes... and no.”
The vague reply surprised Brak, and worried him. “What do you mean?”
“When the demons brought R’shiel here she was on the brink of death. No, even more than that, Death had her by the hand and was leading her away. Cheltaran healed her wounds, but Death does not like to be cheated, particularly by the God of Healing. They are having something of a... disagreement... over the demon child’s fate.”
“That sounds ominous. Where does that leave R’shiel?”
“She lives, but only just. Death holds one hand, Cheltaran the other.”
Brak sagged against the balcony. “But it’s been months!”
“I know. But now that you are here, we should be able to resolve the conflict.”
“You want me to step into an argument between Death and a god? Thanks for the vote of confidence, your Majesty, but I think you vastly overrate my powers of persuasion.”
The King turned to him, his expression serious. “I overrate nothing, Brakandaran. A compromise of sorts has been worked out to solve the problem. Unfortunately, none of us is capable of carrying it out.”
“Compromise? What compromise?”
“A life for a life,” Korandellan told him heavily. “Death will relinquish his claim on R’shiel, if another life is given in her place.”
Brak closed his eyes for a moment as the weight of the task Korandellan asked of him pressed on him like a falling building.
“You want
