one front. Korandellan was weakening and she was worried sick about Tarja. She had received no word of him since crossing into Hythria, and she had no idea of how things stood in Medalon.
Dranymire sensed her urgency and did not complain when she told him their destination. He suggested warning Brak of their imminent arrival, and R'shiel gladly agreed. She was surprised how much she missed Brak, or at least his counsel, and was hopeful he would be able to ease her mind about Tarja. He might even know what was happening in Medalon. And she was certain that she would need his help in getting to the Citadel.
The journey north took four days, and by the time the pink walls of Talabar appeared in the distance, R'shiel felt almost confident that she had mastered the skill of dragon riding. She still ached for hours when she climbed off the beast, but she no longer clung with grim determination to the dragon's back for fear of plunging to her death. As Dranymire had explained, it was simply a question of balance. Besides, after riding a water dragon through the foaming waves of the Dregian Ocean, R'shiel decided that airborne dragons were a vastly preferable method of transport. At least you could talk to them. They didn't just smile at you with stupid, fixed grins, then drag you down under several tons of cold water, just for the sheer joy of it.
Dranymire began to lose altitude while they were still several leagues from the harbour. He headed for a clearing that appeared in the vast canopy of trees passing beneath them in a green blur east of the city. Brak had arranged to meet them here, and her heart quickened a little at the thought of seeing him again. The reason was quite simple and more than a little disturbing. Brak was the only person, Harshini or demon, god or human, who she trusted implicitly. Including, she realised with a frown, both Tarja and Damin.
Her reason for distrusting Damin was fairly straightforward. He had a bad habit of acting first and worrying about the consequences later. If he let her down, it would not be lack of honour, but lack of forethought, that betrayed her. Tarja was a little more complicated. His love for her was imposed on him. It might vanish as abruptly as it had appeared and his anger when he realised how he'd been manipulated could easily turn that love to hatred. She wished she knew where he was, and that he was safe. She desperately wanted to know what he was thinking.
Brak was waiting for them in the clearing when they landed. The humid jungle was alive with the sounds of insects and other creatures she could not see, and the trees shook as the unseen beasts leapt from tree to tree. Whatever they were, they seemed unafraid of the dragons and not too bothered by the presence of the Harshini.
R'shiel slithered off the dragon's back, and collapsed inelegantly as she hit the ground. Brak smiled and stepped forward to help her up.
“Not as easy as it looks, is it?”
“I'm getting the hang of the riding. It's the walking around afterwards I'm still having trouble with.” She looked up at him smiling as she climbed unsteadily to her feet. “I'm so glad to see you, Brak. Do you think we could just sit for a moment?”
“I think you'd better,” he agreed, helping her across the clearing to a fallen log that was slowly being consumed by the jungle around it. She sat down gratefully as Brak turned and bowed respectfully to the dragon.
“Lord Dranymire.”
“Lord Brakandaran.”
“I thank you for delivering the demon child safely.”
“Luck and a modicum of natural ability is the only reason she survives, my Lord. I can claim no credit.”
Brak smiled. “I thank you all the same, my Lord.”
“Will you be long discussing your plans? We have been in this meld for days now, and I wish to allow my brethren an opportunity to rest.”
“Dissolve the meld, my Lord. We shall call on you later, should your services be required.”
The dragon bowed its huge head towards Brak. “You may wish to take this opportunity to teach the demon child some manners regarding the brethren, Lord Brakandaran. She is sorely in need of education.”
As soon as he finished speaking, the meld began to dissolve and the dragon disintegrated into a writhing mass of little grey demons that vanished almost as soon as they were free of the meld. Within moments Brak and R'shiel were alone in the clearing.
“What did you do to upset Dranymire?”
“Who knows? As he said, I'm sadly lacking in demon etiquette.” She flexed her knees stiffly and looked up at him. “You seem pretty good at it.”
“I've had several hundred years of practice.”
“Are you really that old?”
“Don't I look it?”
“Actually, you don't look a day over thirty-five.”
“My family always did carry their age well,” he agreed with a grin, then he sat beside her, his smile fading. “What are you doing here, R'shiel? I thought you were wreaking havoc in Hythria?”
“I was.”
Brak laughed.
“I don't mean that the way it sounds, Brak! Everything was going along fine until High Prince Lernen up and died on me. Then Damin's cousin claimed the throne and then when we got to Greenharbour, Glenanaran and the others were half dead from trying to protect the Sorcerers' Collective. And
“You've been busy. When did you speak to Korandellan?”
“A few days ago. I used the Seeing Stone.”
“My, we have come a long way, haven't we?”
“Don't patronise me, Brak.”
“I didn't mean to. But the news about Sanctuary concerns me.”
“I know. And there's nothing I can do about it until I sort out Hythria and Fardohnya.”
“Why? Does it really make that much difference? Why not leave them to their bickering and do something about Xaphista? Do something about the situation in Medalon?”
“I
“Tarja's been captured, R'shiel.”
She swallowed hard as her heart relocated itself in her throat. “When? How?”
“It happened about a month ago. He sank the ferry at Cauthside but didn't get away quickly enough. The Kariens have been waiting for the flood waters to subside, but they've not been idle. They'll be ready to cross the Glass River any day now. Tarja is being taken to the Citadel for trial.”
“I'm surprised they didn't kill him,” she remarked tonelessly.
“He's too important. Publicly hanging Tarja in the Citadel will be the Kariens' final and unequivocal declaration of mastery over Medalon. His death will tear the heart out of the resistance.”
“It'll tear the heart out of more than the resistance,” she said softly, then buried her face in her hands, wishing the whole world would just stop for a while and let her catch her breath.
“I'm sorry, R'shiel.”
“I almost wish you hadn't told me.” She straightened suddenly, looking at him curiously. “How do you know all this, anyway?”
“I have a new friend. She keeps me informed.”
“She?”
“The head of the Assassins' Guild is a woman.”
“How nice for you, Brak.”
“Now who's being patronising? And you still haven't answered my question. What are you doing in Fardohnya?”
“Trying to undo the damage I caused. Once the Convocation is held, and Cyrus loses the election,
