Her frightened face seemed to tighten. “Yes.”
“Where are you, Charina?”
“The castle. My uncle’s castle. I am up on the ramparts and—oh, look at the pretty thing!”
“What are you doing, Charina?”
“Leaning forward to see the—No! No! Please, don’t! No!”
The sheer terror of that scream cut Kevin to the heart. Oh, Naitachal, don’t! Let her be!
But the Dark Elf continued softly, “Who is it, Charina? What is he doing?”
“Uncle! Uncle, please! I won’t tell anyone! You don’t have to kill me!”
“Who killed you, Charina?”
“No, no, there’s been a mistake, it’s all a mistake. I’m alive and—”
“Who killed you, Charina?”
“I—My uncle killed me! He pushed me from the ramparts when none could see! He murdered me and threw my body down a refuse shaft!”
She burst into an anguished keening, rocking back and forth in mid-air. Without taking his glance from her, Naitachal fiercely waved the watchers away. They scrambled up and behind the wagons without any argument.
“Oh, that poor kid!” Lydia whispered. “She didn’t even get a chance to live before that bastard—”
Berak waved her to silence. “Now comes the most difficult part.” His voice was so soft it barely disturbed the air. “Now he must help her deal with her own death and at last find rest.”
They waited in silence as the time crept slowly by. And at last Naitachal staggered out to meet them. He said not a word, but sank to the ground, head in hands. Berak moved to his side, murmuring in elfish, and Naitachal nodded. The White Elf nodded as well, and returned to Kevin and Lydia—
“It’s done,” he said softly. “That poor lost child is gone.”
Naitachal continued to sit where he was, black cloak like a shroud about him, and all at once Kevin couldn’t stand it. Seritha was already brewing one other herbal teas, and the bardling took a flagon from her and hurried to the Dark Elf’s side.
“Naitachal? Naitachal, it’s me. Kevin.” The Dark Elf slowly raised his head, his eyes empty. “H-here,” the bardling insisted. “Drink.” For a moment he wasn’t sure Naitachal was going to obey, but then a hand cold as the grave took the flagon from him. The Dark Elf held it for a moment in both bands, gratefully absorbing its heat, then drank. For a time he sat with closed eyes. Then Naitachal turned to look at Kevin again. And this time life glinted in the sorcerous eyes.
“Thank you. I was wise to name you an anchor.” “And ... Charina is ...”
“Gone. Though gone where I can’t say. And no,” the Dark Elf added with a hint of returning humor, “I’m not being metaphysical. She was a gentle girl, but she did, after all, come of warrior stock. I dare say we’ve not seen the last of her just yet.” “What ... ? “ But more Naitachal wouldn’t say.
“The best way to be invisible,” Berak said with his usual dramatic flair, “is to be obvious. If we try to sneak into Count Volmar’s castle like thieves with something to hide, Carlotta is sure to notice.”
Naitachal nodded. “Just as she’d be sure to notice any manner of magic-working.” He glanced at Kevin and Lydia. “Now, those two should make convincing enough members of your troupe.”
“With a little judicious dying of hair,” Seritha added, eying Lydia’s curly black locks, “and some nice, minstrelly recostuming. But as for you,” she added, studying Naitachal, “hmm ...”
“I am not,” the Dark Elf said flatly, “dressing up as a dancing girl—Once was quite enough, thank you.”
Berak gave a shout of laughter. “A
“You heard me. We made a pretty group, the lot of us, Kevin here and Lydia and Eliathanis—”
