Harshini

absorbed some of her cousin's skill and knowledge. It was how the demons learnt from each other.

With a skill she hadn't known she possessed, she drew a glamour around herself and opened the door a fraction. The guard in the hall turned towards the sound, studied the door curiously for a moment before opening it wide. When he found no one, he shrugged and pulled it closed.

R'shiel ran down the corridor, still wrapped in the glamour that hid her from the notice of anyone who happened to pass her. She didn't remember learning how to do it so easily, but she seemed to know instinctively how to hold it in place. The last time she had tried such a thing, when she and Damin rescued Adrina from Dregian Castle, it had taken all her concentration.

R'shiel took the stairs to the ground floor and walked out into the street, amazed to find the city going about its business as if nothing was wrong. Wagons trundled down the street laden with produce and the roads were crowded with soldiers - but they wore Hythrun and Fardohnyan colours and looked more like tourists than warriors.

So the siege is over, she thought, beginning to wonder, a little uneasily, how long she had been asleep. If there had been time for the siege to be lifted and the city to regain some semblance of normalcy, it must have been quite a while. She walked down to the end of the street and out onto the main thoroughfare. It was even more crowded here, and there were Harshini on the streets, too. She wondered if they would notice her, or even feel the minimal power that she was drawing amidst the sights and sounds and smells of the city.

Crossing the road, R'shiel headed for the Temple of the Gods. She stopped on the corner as she saw Damin and a heavily pregnant Adrina climbing the steps. Behind them walked Tarja and Garet Warner, Shananara and a young Karien that R'shiel recognised but could not immediately name. On their heels strode a richly dressed man with a barrel chest and a greying beard. Hablet of Fardohnya.

R'shiel followed them into the Temple of the Gods, still wrapped in the glamour, and watched curiously as they took their places around the conference table.

Shananara remained standing as the others took their seats. She held a scroll in her hands and studied the others carefully for a moment before she spoke. Then she looked up, stared straight at R'shiel and smiled. Shananara knew she was watching, but she did not reveal her presence. She acknowledged R'shiel with a faint nod and turned her attention back to the table.

“It has taken quite some time, but I have here the treaty that you have all agreed to sign. If one of you breaks it, they must face the other three.”

R'shiel looked around the table curiously. Tarja and Garet looked satisfied. Adrina was positively smirking. Damin appeared relieved and a little smug. Whatever the treaty contained, it obviously hadn't done Hythria any harm. Hablet wore a look of wounded resignation. The young Karien, who R'shiel realised was the knight who had travelled with Cratyn to hunt down Adrina, looked caught somewhere between terror and relief.

“I won't go into details, but it boils down to this: all of you will withdraw your troops to the borders as they were set down prior to the Karien invasion of Medalon. No nation has gained territory and no nation has lost it. You, King Drendyn, will open your borders to the Sorcerers' Collective. Your god is dead and your people will suffer if they are not given an opportunity to find another god to believe in. King Hablet, you will also grant free access to the Collective, as will Medalon. No more arrests. No more gaols. No more persecution.”

Hablet muttered something inaudible, but he did not openly react to the rebuke. Tarja appeared unconcerned by the condition.

“Each monarch, and whatever government Medalon finally decides to adopt, will accept a Harshini adviser in their court,” Shananara continued. “The Harshini will act as final arbiters in case of disputes between the nations.

“The succession in each nation will remain as it is now, with two exceptions. In the event that King Hablet dies before his unborn son reaches maturity, then High Princess Adrina of Hythria will assume the role of Regent until he comes of age. The other change also concerns the Fardohnyan throne. The condition that requires a Wolfblade heir in the absence of a legitimate male heir is no longer valid. In the absence of a legitimate male heir to the Fardohnyan throne, it will fall to the eldest legitimate female.”

“Now, wait on!” Hablet objected. “I never agreed to that. If I die, Adrina only has to kill my son and she gets to be Queen.”

“Just because you don't think twice about eliminating members of your family, Father,” Adrina retorted frostily, “doesn't mean I share your sentiments. I give you my word; I will not kill my brother. Any of them.”

“It makes no difference in any case, Your Majesty,” Shananara explained. “Adrina is excluded from the succession by virtue of her position as Regent. If anything should happen to your son, the throne would fall to your next eldest daughter.”

“Cassandra?” Hablet laughed. “Gods preserve us from such a fate! Well, at least I know that Adrina will fight to keep her brother alive. I'm sure she'd rather die than see Cassie sitting on the throne.”

Peace.

R'shiel moved away from the pillar she was leaning against with a frown, as it dawned on her how superfluous she had become. Zegarnald would not die; he was a Primal God and truly immortal. But he would not walk into Karien and step into the vacuum left by Xaphista, either. He had wanted her tempered so that she was strong enough to face Xaphista. Well, he had what he wanted, but she had also gained a measure of revenge for the suffering he had condoned. The gods would rise and fall, gain strength and weaken as life rolled on, but the God of War would not have the strength to bully the other gods into doing his bidding. The balance had been restored.

There was no need for the demon child now. No destiny awaited her. No nation needed her counsel. That they had done all this while she slept left her feeling so inconsequential that it actually hurt.

Inkwells were being brought out, along with a number of quills, for the formal signing of the treaty. She left them to it.

There was nothing more to be done.

R'shiel slipped through the doors and out into the sunlight, realising that for the first time, she had nobody to please but herself. No destiny loomed over her like a shadow. She was beholden to no one - human, Harshini or god.

The glamour still wrapped around her protectively, R'shiel turned towards the Main Gate. She walked through it unseen by the Defenders on duty and out onto the busy road. The battlefield was still being cleared and troops were piling bodies into mass graves dug by the countless Karien prisoners that had been taken after the battle, but the Saran ran clear, its shallow waters tripping happily over the rocks beneath the surface. It was a bit grand calling it a river, actually. It was not much more than a wide stream. She stopped on the bridge and glanced back at the shining Citadel. It had been her home and her prison. Her ruin and her salvation.

Impulsively, she sent out a thought to the massive fort, a farewell of sorts. She did not know when, or even if, she would be back. She had to find Loclon. And she had an appointment with Gimlorie. Maybe she could find a way to convince Death to release Brak, too.

The Citadel responded with a benevolent wave of of affection that washed over her gently. Smiling to herself, R'shiel glanced down and discovered she was not alone. The little demon she had last seen with Mikel in Greenharbour was sitting on the ground at her feet, looking at her with its huge black eyes.

“Where have you been?” she asked, squatting down.

The creature chittered something incomprehensible and jumped into her arms.

“Is that your way of saying sorry about Mikel?” she chuckled. “It wasn't your fault, little one. You'll be a few hundred older before you can protect someone from the likes of Xaphista.”

Mention of the dead god's name set the demon off again. R'shiel stood up with the demon's skinny arms wrapped thightly around her neck. With a final glance at the Citadel, she released the glamour and crossed the bridge.

“I suppose,” she said to the demon, as she walked away without looking back, “we'd better do something about finding you a name.”