any thoughts of self-pity with the memory of the small dragon embryo lying in the pool of it own blood or the infant boy being carried out by Tarmak warriors to die alone on an empty, heartless landscape.
Shaken, she thanked Afec and walked outside where the hot sun baked the stone walls and a cloudless sky arched overhead. She considered Afec’s advice then rejected it. The heat of the day felt good on her aching shoulders and her thoughts were too restive to give her peace. She wanted solitude and space to think.
Knowing the gardens would be busy on a fine day like this, she skirted the lawns of the exercise fields and took the running path around the perimeter. The walled enclosure that formed the grounds of the Akeelawasee covered a rectangular area of about ten acres. It was by far the largest open area in the confines of the Imperial palace. Linsha had explored much of it in the hope of finding a way out, but the walls were heavily guarded, and so far she had not found so much as a mouse hole. She reviewed her memories of what she had seen. She had only searched out of habit, knowing an escape attempt toward the city or the interior was doomed. She hadn’t thought about an escape toward the sea, and she’d never bothered to see how close the walls came to the cliff edge.
Her muscles felt warm in the morning sun and her joints were a little more limber, so she broke into a gentle jog that carried her slowly around the small lake, through the copses of trees and flowering vines and out into the open lawns of the farthest reaches of the Akeelawasee. It seemed odd to be out here without Malawaitha to harass her. She hadn’t realized how much the Tarmak woman had preyed on her mind until the vindictive bully was gone. Callista had told her that Malawaitha was buried without fanfare in an unmarked grave somewhere in the palace gardens. Although the regret lingered, and more than a little guilt still gnawed at her, Linsha felt as if a great weight had been removed from her thoughts.
Trotting on, she drew closer to the enclosing wall of the garden, and for a while she followed the path in the shadow of the high stone barrier. She felt the eyes of the guards on her back and ignored them. Let them watch. All she wanted to do was look.
She came to a particular rock formation that jutted out of the ground like the prow of a ship. It was blanketed with lichen and tenacious wildflowers, and it served as the turning point on the trail. From the rock, the trail curved to the right and wound its way toward the opposite wall. The shorter connecting wall, the wall that paralleled the cliffs, was out of sight beyond a low rise and a tall hedge of evergreen shrubs.
Linsha slowed to a gentle walk and veered off the path as if she were simply out for a stroll. Meandering through the grass, she found a narrow path, probably made by sentries, that followed the wall and made its way up the rise and through a thin break in the hedge. The shrubs grew tall and thick and crowded her in their dark green, fragrant foliage. Then she was through, and she stepped out into a different world.
Behind her, past the hedge, the palace gardens were lush and well tended, but here on the edges of the promontory, the greenery had been stripped away and there was nothing here but stone walls and wind-swept rock. She walked forward. Perhaps twenty feet away was the fortifying wall, a massive structure about ten feet thick and thirty feet tall. A narrow stair climbed up to the parapet at the top of the wall and a small guard tower that overlooked the wall and what lay beyond. She could see two guards on the walkway standing with their backs to her, but she knew there were probably more around. Both Tarmaks were well armed and carried bows already strung. It would be better to let them know she was there, she decided, than surprise them and end up with an arrow in her chest. She shouted a greeting in her roughest Tarmakian.
The two Tarmaks whirled in surprise, and as she suspected, two more came running from the tower. They glowered down at her, jabbering at her in Tarmakian too fast for her to follow and gesturing for her to turn back. She calmly ignored their gestures and walked up the stone steps to the walk. Clasping her hands, she bowed to them politely.
“Can any of you speak Common?” she asked.
“Drathkin’kela,” one warrior replied in a rough voice. It was the
She bowed again and said a silent thank you. Courtesy was her weapon here, and she was not yet fluent enough in Tarmakian to feign such politeness.
“I am not here to get in your way,
The
“You may stay for a short while, but you will go when I tell you. And Ruthig will stay with you.”
She glanced up the towering Tarmak he indicated and shrugged. All four of them could stand around her, as long they let her see beyond the wall. With deliberate care she chose a place in full view of the Tarmaks, climbed carefully to the top, and sat down cross-legged on the sun-warmed stone. The wind from the sea teased her hair and filled her nose with the smell of saltwater. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. The wind was out of the west, and although she could smell nothing but warm rock and cool sea, she fancied that this same wind had swept over Ansalon a few days before and still carried some essence of her homeland on its capricious breezes.
She had come a long way to look over this wall, but she did not look down immediately. Instead she cast her eyes to the sea beyond the harbor, to the northern Courrain Ocean that gleamed a blue-gray in the late morning light and rolled endlessly south toward home and freedom. She looked far beyond the distant shores of the bay, past the dark towers of the Orchemenarc, and concentrated on the hazy horizon between water and sky, and when she had that vision indelibly etched into her memory, she closed her eyes and turned her focus inward to the secret recesses of her heart and the power she knew beat there.
She had not tried this in a long while simply because she had failed so often it was hardly worth the effort. But she had learned why from Danian at the gathering at the Grandfather Tree-the spirits of the dead drained the power for their own purposes. She had never learned why the spirits had been trapped in the living world or why they needed the energy; all she knew were the effects of their desperate hunger. But this place was far from Ansalon and the wars that plagued that troubled land. Maybe, just maybe, the souls were not here.
She drew deeper into herself, putting away the discomforts of her sore eye and aching throat, her wounded hand and stiff muscles, until the world receded from her and she found at last the tranquility she had so desperately missed. Her heartbeat slowed; her muscles relaxed. Slowly she gathered the mystic power of her heart and spread it out through her body to soothe her pain, strengthen her limbs, and invigorate her mind. It flowed through her body, a warm, tingling intoxication that fired her body and her spirit. The spell was almost complete when she felt the familiar faint tickle on her face and neck. The power suddenly drained from her like water from a broken cup and there was nothing she could do to stop it. The spell broke and vanished. She sighed. Apparently there were hungry souls here, too, and the magic was gone for now. At least the spell had worked long enough to serve its purpose. She felt stronger and more vigorous than she had in days.
A hand prodded her back and she heard a voice say, “Drathkin’kela, the guards will be changing soon. You must go.”
She pulled herself back to the world, to the external sounds of the sea below her, to the smells, and the heat, and the wind. Opening her eyes, she looked at the sea’s horizon then let her eyes slide slowly downward until she was staring at the edge of the cliff. Her face lightened into a broad smile.
10
Afec was waiting for her when she came back from the midday meal. He looked her over carefully and said, “I know my skills are as good as any Keena’s, but I don’t believe I have seen anyone heal as fast as you. The