“Then let me bring her back.”
“Here? To Sanctuary? For what purpose?”
“If you won't let
The King shook his head. “Events unfold as they should, Shananara. We cannot interfere.”
“What events?” she scoffed. “Where is it written that you should destroy yourself holding Sanctuary out of time, while the demon child sits on her hands trying to decide if she even believes that we exist or not?”
“You did not speak to R'shiel before she left us. She has learnt much.”
“She doesn't know a fraction of what she needs to know. And who is there to teach her? Brak?”
“I thought you were fond of him.”
“I am, but he's hardly the one I would have chosen as the demon child's mentor. He doesn't even like her. And he certainly doesn't trust her.”
“She will learn what she needs to know in Hythria.”
“But does R'shiel know that? She's just as liable to head in the other direction.”
“You worry too much, Shanan. These things have a way of working themselves out. R'shiel will come to accept her destiny and will learn what she needs in due course.”
“Before or after the Harshini are destroyed, brother?” Leaning forward, she studied him intently, as if she could see through his skin and into his soul. “Xaphista's minions have control of Medalon. The Defenders have surrendered to Karien. Hythria is on the brink of civil war and Fardohnya is arming for invasion. And you are beginning to weaken. I can see it in your eyes. You tremble constantly and cannot control it. Your eyes burn. Your aura is streaked with black. A flicker, a slight wavering in your hold on the spell that holds Sanctuary out of time, and Xaphista's priests will know where we are. Once that happens, you will be able to count the days on the fingers of one hand before the Kariens are standing at our gates.”
“R'shiel will deal with Xaphista before that happens,” he assured her.
“I wish I shared your faith in her. But how long do we have, Koran? How long can you keep draining yourself?”
“As long as I need to.”
She leaned back with a defeated sigh. “Then I can only pray to the gods that it will be long enough.”
“The demon child will do what she must.”
Shananara did not look convinced. “You place far too much faith in that uncontrollable half-breed.”
The Harshini King nodded tiredly. “I'm aware of that, Shananara, but unfortunately that uncontrollable half- breed is our only hope.”
CHAPTER 2
The marriage of Damin Wolfblade, Warlord of Krakandar, to Her Serene Highness, Princess Adrina of Fardohnya, took place on a small, windswept knoll in the middle of northern Medalon on a bitterly cold afternoon. It was little more than two weeks since the bride had unexpectedly become a widow.
The sky was overcast and low, the sullen clouds defying the brisk, chilly wind by staying determinedly in place. The somewhat less-than-radiant bride was dressed in a borrowed white shirt and dark woollen trousers. The groom looked just as uncomfortable in his battle-worn leathers. The assorted guests appeared either bemused or amused, depending on their country of origin.
Officiating over the ceremony was a tall, serious looking Defender, who wore the insignia of a captain and quoted the stiff, practical and very unromantic Medalonian wedding vows that were carried away by the wind almost as soon as he uttered the words. This wedding was taking place because the demon child had demanded it, and a quick ceremony - enough to make it legal - was all R'shiel cared about. She had neither the time nor the patience for any pomp or ceremony.
“This is probably a waste of time, you know,” Brak muttered as he watched the ceremony with a frown.
“Why?” R'shiel asked softly, not taking her eyes from the bride and groom, as if they would somehow manage to escape their fate if she looked away.
“This marriage will only hold up if you can get the High Arrion to accept the legality of a Medalonian ceremony as soon as you get to Greenharbour,” he explained.
“The leader of the Sorcerers' Collective?”
“The High Arrion is Damin's half-sister.”
“She's not going to be very happy about this, is she?”
“Even if she wasn't concerned about her brother, as the High Prince's heir, he's doing a very dangerous thing.”
“But worth it, Brak. In the end, it will be the best thing that could have happened. This will force peace between Hythria and Fardohnya. Nothing else we can do will achieve that.”
Brak looked unconvinced. “There's an awful lot that can go wrong, R'shiel.”
“It'll work.”
He stared at her.
“Trust me, it'll work!”
“I'm surprised Zegarnald is letting you get away with this.”
“I have the God of War's solemn promise that he won't interfere. Besides, he'll think this is likely to cause a war.”
“That's because it
“Only in the short term.”
He shook his head at her folly and turned his attention back to the ceremony. It was almost over. Denjon was calling on the gods to bless the union - Kalianah to bless it with love, Jelanna to bless it with children. He sounded very uncomfortable, but R'shiel had insisted on acknowledging the gods, even in some small measure. Personally, she didn't think it would make much difference, but Damin and Adrina were both pagans and it was what
Denjon declared the union sealed, to the scattered applause of the gathered Defenders and Hythrun who had come to watch. The newlyweds turned to face the crowd and smiled with the insincere ease of those trained from childhood to perform in public. They stepped down from the knoll and began to walk towards R'shiel and Brak. R'shiel shivered, although it was not from the cold.
“Just how much power do the Sorcerers' Collective have, anyway?”
“Politically or magically?”
“Both, I suppose.”
“The magic they wield shouldn't bother you. They tap into the same power we do, but it's the result of years of study, not innate ability. It's done with incantations and spells and a bit of co-operation from the gods. Politically, however, they're one of the strongest forces in Hythria.”
“So if the High Arrion publicly sanctions this union, the Warlords will accept it?”
“They won't openly object, but don't count on acceptance.”
“Then we need the Sorcerers' Collective on our side.”
“Most definitely.”
R'shiel nodded, her mind already working through how to get the High Arrion on side. And the King of Fardohnya. Brak could deal with him. In fact, she had a sneaking suspicion he was going to enjoy it. Her mind churned with possibilities, as she pondered the problem. The scheming came to her as naturally as breathing - one of the legacies of being raised by the Sisters of the Blade.
“Well, it's done now,” Damin remarked as he and Adrina reached them.
“A true romantic, isn't he,” Adrina complained. “Do we have to stand around here chatting? I'm freezing.
