with them. That might be the only sensible thing to do, but despair hadn't progressed that far. Yet.
'My ears burn, gentle friends,' said Fairspeaker, stepping through the gate with a brace of Zr'gsz spearmen at his heels. A leather pouch with a suspiciously familiar bulge swung familiarly at his hip. 'Could it be you did me the honor of discussing me?'
Fost favored him with a long, dour look and folded himself back down to the ground.
'We've more pleasant topics to discuss, Fairspeaker. The state of the latrine, for example.'
Fairspeaker threw back his head and roared with laughter, as if this were the choicest joke he'd ever heard.
'Ah, good Longstrider, you were ever the droll rogue. You are sorely missed in the Great Nevrym. The dullards and dotards who infest the Tree haven't among them the wit to fill a thimble.'
Fost found himself listening intently, even thinking Fairspeaker wasn't such a bad fellow. After all, he did appreciate Fost's finer qualities.
Fairspeaker looked from the courier to Moriana who stood with legs braced and arms folded beneath her breasts, glaring defiantly at him. He met her eyes, shrugged at the message he read in them and turned his attention back to Fost.
'You'd be a valuable ally for the Dark Ones,' he said. 'Why throw away your life for this Sky scum?'
Why, indeed? It was all so lucid Fost wondered why he hadn't thought of it before. 'Are all Nevrymin allies of the Dark?' demanded Moriana.
'No, Lady,' he said, laughing at her. 'But soon they will be. As soon as those of us with the vision to see what's best for the Forest have assumed the mantle of power and cleared away a certain amount of the deadwood.' Moriana's answering laugh was as jarring as steel on stone.
'I, too, thought the Hissers my allies,' she said, 'and I gather my sister thought the same of the Lords of Infinite Night. You can see how wisely we chose those to trust.'
A shadow crossed his pale face, then was gone, as fleeting as a bat crossing a disk of the lesser moon.
'I have my assurances from parties of great power – or Power, if you get my emphasis. Synalon was weighed and found wanting; you merely sought to exploit the People for your own base ends and found your wickedness turned against you. I, and those of like mind, deal with the Dark from a position of strength and good faith. We will be honored well when the final victory is achieved.'
His brown eyes found Fost's gray ones. Fairspeaker smiled and Fost felt himself stirring to the gaze.
'Well, Longstrider? May I have your hand upon it… comrade?'
As if of its own accord, Fost's scarred right hand rose to touch Fairspeaker's slimmer, softer one.
Idiot! A voice cracked from the back of his skull. He's playing you like a lute! He struck the preferred hand away.
'Go drown yourself in a bucket of shit!' he snarled, deliberately using the crudity to dispel the last of Fairspeaker's verbal spell.
Fairspeaker only laughed, and waved the fingers of his raised right hand languidly in the air as if to cool them.
'Well, that's your decision. All I can say is that I am deeply regretful.' He turned to Moriana. 'Perhaps you have a clearer perception of your own interest, Princess. I can tell you that a high official of the People arrives on the morrow from Thendrun to interrogate you. You can save yourself much anguish – by which I mean earn yourself a quick and painless death – if you simply tell me now of your plans.'
'Plans?' Moriana's laugh turned bitter. 'I have none. Except to escape this stinking pen.'
'Don't lie, Princess.' The liquid eyes showed hurt. Fairspeaker patted Erimenes's new pouch. 'Your former accomplice has revealed to me many of the salient features of your scheme to turn the skystone mines to your own purposes. But the servants of the Dark need details. For example, which traitor revealed to you the workings of the skyraft controls? We know you flew here on a craft stolen from the Sky City. I tell you this so you'll understand that we know enough to tell if you try lying to us.'
Only instinct prevented Fost from dropping his jaw in amazement. It took iron self-control to keep from turning to see if Moriana was as dumbstruck. Where in the wide Realm had Fairspeaker gotten such an extravagant notion?
'Confess all, Fost.' Erimenes's voice lacked nothing of the unctuous tones Fairspeaker carried off so well. 'You've not been a bad companion, though you are uncouth and rather less valorous than I might have wished. I'd hate to see you suffer needlessly on account of your murdering wolf bitch.' Fost turned an ugly grin on Fairspeaker.
'I might even reconsider your offer to join you, my friend,' he said in a deadly quiet voice, 'if you could promise me one reward. Return Erimenes to a living, feeling body so that I could give him the fill of sensation he so craves. My vaporous friend, I think I've picked up some useful pointers from your old friend, the late, lamented Prince Rann.' Fairspeaker guffawed. 'You'd jest on the gibbet, friend Fost.' 'Who's jesting?' 'Mark my words, Fost! You'll regret this.'
Fairspeaker looked at the sky. A few fat, fleecy clouds gamboled in the southern sky. He let his gaze drift meaningfully at the traffic of skycraft streaming in from the northeast.
'You'll have until tomorrow morning to think over your refusal.' Fairspeaker's eyes filled with concern. 'You must understand, my friends, that once Lord Nchssk arrives, affairs will pass from my hands and I will be unable to win you any mercy.'
They ignored him. He shrugged elaborately and walked out. The Zr'gsz guards waited until he had left the compound before backing out. The gates boomed shut and the lock fell with a sound like a headsman's axe.
Fost and Moriana exchanged looks. The tale Erimenes had fed the Nevrymin was a combination of truth and utter fabrication. Had the genie thought to insinuate himself into the good graces of the Dark Ones by inventing an imaginary menace, banking on the near certainty that the more fervently Moriana and Fost denied the existence of such a danger the more fervently the questioners would disbelieve them? Or had the ages-old spirit simply gone insane?
Fost slept through the heat of the afternoon. With a sentence of death looming over him as tangibly as the bulk of Omizantrim, it might have seemed strange he could sleep at all. But sleep shielded him from having to think of his fate.
He woke to find Moriana bending over a younger Watcher woman seated on a flat rock. Moriana worked on the woman's arm, which was twisted unnaturally. The woman's face was drained of color and feeling; it showed no pain.
Moriana finally stood up, wiped sweat from her forehead and regarded the job of splinting and bandaging.
'It'd be best if you wore that sling for several weeks, Beiil. Right now the thing to do is sleep.' The woman nodded dully and rose, walking to the nearest group of Watchers who were busily not watching what the princess had done. One spoke to the woman in hushed tones and looked disbelievingly at her quiet answer.
'Damn the Hissers,' Moriana swore fervently. 'And thrice damn the Nevrymin for aiding them now that they've shown their true shade! That girl's arm was broken in the capture of the village. They locked her in a storeroom with others wounded and dying. The others were too weak to help her; she bound her own arm, but set the bone wrong. By the time the Hissers let her out to join the others, it was too late to reset. I had to break it over again.' 'She was certainly quiet.'
Moriana mopped at her forehead with the hem of her tunic. Fost looked at the bare skin of her trim midriff with a pang of longing. It had been so long for them, and now they'd never have the chance to complete their reunion.
'Ziore helped. She suppressed sensation in the girl's mind while I worked. She even left a residual block that will keep the pain from becoming too severe.'
'I keep being surprised at the way your powers have grown,' Fost said. 'Tell me. You'd rather heal with magic, wouldn't you?' Her eyes answered for her.
When the sun dipped low enough in the sky to become entangled with the black tentacles of the Omizantrim flows, Fost broke out his bowl and flask. He and Moriana ate a little, then offered the vessels once more to the Watchers. Wan and shaky, Beiil rose from her pallet and came over. Fost helped her and Fost fed her with her own spoon. When she finished, most of the other Watchers lined up wordlessly to partake of the food and drink.
As the other prisoners ate, Fost lay back with his head in his hands watching the sky set in layers of color,
