'As dead as I was to her, son, outside the Yuirwood, Shali was dead to me. You still have your tears; mine have all been shed. I grieved for both of you, but you've come back and I cannot deny my joy at seeing you.'
He opened his arms and it seemed, for a heartbeat, that there was radiant light within them. The moment passed, the light faded, but a sense of warmth remained. Bro was cold; he was alone. He knew the risks, and took them anyway: a semblance of a father was better than no father, no mother, no family, no one at all. His father's arms tightened around him. For another heartbeat, everything was wrong, then that moment, too, passed and he let his hands slide into the warmth between Rizcarn's hair and shirt. There was a difference, looking over Rizcarn's shoulder, but it was not as great as he'd imagined it would be, and he was still aware of his father's heartbeat.
'Come with me, son. Walk beside me as I do Relkath's work. If you're not happy, go back to the dirt-eaters'-to the human villages. No one will stop you.'
Bro nodded. Where else was he going to go? Back to a burned-out village? To the Simbul's royal city? To MightyTree or GoldenMoss? He could starve before he found his living kin. Rizcarn wasn't starving; his flesh was solid beneath his fancy shirt.
'I missed you, Poppa. I missed you so much that I hated you, too.'
'I was a fool, Ebroin. I taunted fate; you and your mother paid the price. I'm sorry; forgive me?'
Bro weighed his choices: Was Rizcarn's apology sufficient? Where else could he go?
'Is there food where we're going, Poppa? I haven't eaten in two days.'
'Of course there's food? Are you still taking me for a ghost, son? I've got a cache not far from here. We'll be there by moonset if we start walking now.'
'Let's go, then,' Bro agreed. He grabbed a handful of Dancer's mane and vaulted onto his back.
Rizcarn's face became a stern mask. 'Get down from there!'
'We'll manage. I'm done in, Poppa. There's no way I can walk till moonset. Dancer knows me, I've ridden him before.'
'Not in the Yuirwood. Only Zandilar can set a man atop her horse. Only she can choose his rider. You presume too much. She has invited you to dance, but she hasn't chosen you. You shame the gods, Ebroin. Get down.'
More than a bit daunted, Bro slid down from Dancer's back. The mere thought of walking till moonset left his feet feeling like rocks each time he lifted them, but lift them he did, following Rizcarn through the shadows.
'Who is Zandilar?' he asked when numbness had set in and his thoughts were free to wander.
'You said you had a dream, a vision. Wasn't that enough? Her name is written on the Sunglade stones.'
'Are we going to the Sunglade? Is that where I'll see her and dance with her?'
Rizcarn took several steps before answering: 'In time, son, if she chooses you. But first we must visit another place and then we must summon the Cha'Tel'Quessir. When that's done, we'll go to the Sunglade. The Yuirwood will be ours again. No outsiders, just the Cha'Tel'Quessir. The dirt-eaters, their cities, and their queen will fade away.'
Without warning, the apprehension Bro had felt when he first heard his father's voice in the trees returned. 'I'd better not go with you, Poppa. She's going to be looking for me.'
'She'll be in the Sunglade.'
'Not Zandilar. The Simbul.' He knew he'd said the precise wrong thing as soon as the words flowed out of his mouth, but there was no stopping them. 'She gave me this.' He held up his arm where the silver hair circled his wrist. 'I left Sulalk with nothing. She said she'd bring me what I needed.'
'But she didn't, did she? The witch-queen's promises are hollow. She isn't part of the Yuirwood,' Rizcarn said in the same tone he'd used to order Bro down from Dancer's back. He snapped a forked twig from a nearby bush and carefully notched the tines. 'When Relkath's work is finished, the Yuirwood won't need her sort of magic. Let me see that.'
Bro reminded himself that the first blame fell on the Simbul, who came to Sulalk and brought the wizards in behind her. Choosing between her and his father was no good choice at all, except the Simbul would take Dancer with her to Velprintalar. He held out his arm.
Rizcarn fitted the strand into the notches before he cut it. There was just enough slack for Bro to slip his hand free without disturbing the notch-bound hair.
'We'll toss this into the next stream we cross.'
Bro followed quietly. He'd aged a lifetime when Shali died. Now he'd shed those years, becoming a child again, doing what his father told him to do, just as he'd done when he was a little boy. He'd taken the wrong turn someplace, but he hadn't seen a better path. When he looked over his shoulder, he didn't see any path at all.
13
The city of Velprintalar, in Aglarond Nearing midnight, the fifteenth day of Eleasias, The Year of the Banner (1368DR)
Order had been restored to the Simbul's privy chambers at a cost measured in pride rather than possessions, although the thorn branch was gone, crushed to dust along with its crystal case.
That had hurt.
Alassra stood with her back against the doorjamb between her workroom and its antechamber while Alustriel's skilled fingers directed the last of the dust out the open window.
'You are astonishing,' Alassra said in a determinedly neutral tone.
'It must run in the family.' The elder sister shrugged. 'Well, at least you'll be able to find what you're looking for now-for a few months.'
'Nonsense. It will take me at least a year before I know where anything is.' She entered the antechamber. 'Tea?'
Alustriel followed Alassra. A plain clay pot simmered on the brazier. Fruit and a plate of cold, sliced meat sat on a table beside it. The sisters ate in silence, until Alustriel broke it.
'So, tell me, what was a little girl doing here, and why, by Mystra's mercy, did you leave her alone?'
Alassra set down her cup. 'Because it seemed like a good idea at the time? I told you: There was a problem in a village. There were loose ends and I had to get them tied up quickly. I intended to be back before now. Cold tea and crumpets, Alustriel! The child was exhausted. I thought I was right, letting it sleep-'
'Her, 'Las. Letting her sleep.'
'Don't goad me,' the storm queen warned. 'The child has seen terrible things. You're the one who says children heal while they're sleeping. She was already asleep. I sang her a lullaby cantrip. I thought it would keep her asleep until I got back.'
Alustriel sighed. 'Babies. I'm sure I said babies. Babies sleep most of the time, but even they wake up every few hours. That little girl is seven years old; she's not a baby. A lullaby cantrip won't work on a seven year old, not for long anyway. And you left her here, in these rooms! There must be a thousand ways for a child to hurt herself here.'
'How was I to know she hadn't been properly raised? If she had, she wouldn't have touched anything.'
'Tell that to the Witches of Rashemen!'
Alassra opened her mouth and closed it again.
'We can be grateful,' Alustriel continued, 'that all Tay-Fay did was open a window. That started the between whirling. I'm surprised you didn't hear.'
'I was busy. I made a mistake; I can see that, but the child was here because every adult in her village had died at Red Wizard hands. I was trying to get her, a brother, and a horse set to rights.'
'A horse? You haven't said anything about a horse. El's infamous birthday gift?'
Alassra simmered, then cooled. 'Yes, that horse, in that village. The wizards found out… Oh, never mind: It's too complicated.' Alassra poured more tea. Her sisters didn't know about Lailomun; the family needed a few kept secrets.
'Boesild said there were fresh problems with Thay.'
'He told you about Nethra?' Alassra asked.
Alustriel nodded. 'Something is different in Aglarond, 'Las. You didn't sense a breach in your own bolt-
