All found a place about the columns, all reaching out so that their fingers rested lightly on the crystals. The stones shone brighter with that contact. I felt Rwyan’s grip tighten and glanced sidelong at her face. Her expression frightened me, for it was one of longing and loathing combined. She shuddered, her lips drawn taut, as if she fought some private impulse. Her eyes shone, intent on the pulsing jewels. I loosed her hand and put my arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. She was heated, as if a fever gripped her. I remembered all she’d told me of the crystals and thought they called her. I moved behind her, both my arms around her waist: I thought I might need hold her back. She moaned softly and clutched my wrists, pressing against me. In other circumstances I’d have found that contact erotic; here I felt only awe, and more than a little fear.
No word was spoken, but I sensed communion. Pale light, almost lost under the radiance of the walls, began to shroud each figure. It came from the crystals, flickering tentative at first over hands, climbing arms, flowing swifter, liquid over bodies until all were encompassed in that faint nimbus. Some strained rigid, others stood limp. Some heads flung back as if in ecstasy, others drooped, slack-jawed. I saw Allanyn’s eyes close, her wide mouth stretched in a smile. A thin trickle of saliva ran down her pointed chin. The light coming from the walls dimmed as the nimbus gained strength. I thought the crystals drew power from the sorcerers in equal measure to their call on the stones, A radiance that was all colors and none bathed the figures and flowed inward, over Tezdal. I saw him shudder, his body tensing. His eyes sprang wide, then closed. He made a sound that was part sigh and part cry, loud in the chamber’s silence. He relaxed, and the glow grew stronger still, until it hid him from my sight, shimmering like pale flame.
How long we stood watching this ceremony, I’ve no idea. Time had no meaning in this vault. It was as though the crystals imposed their own chronology, dismissing those measurements that we breathing, blooded creatures set to mark their own pace. I know only that the glow dimmed, then was gone, swift as snuffed candle’s flame, and it was as if I woke.
I felt Rwyan let go her hold on my wrists and lean against me with a sigh, as if she were exhausted. I exhaled a gusty breath, staring at the bier.
Tezdal lay still, only the slow rise and fall of his chest to announce he lived. Around him hung faint light. I was reminded of that shimmering that surrounded the Sky Lords’ vessels. I saw that from each crystal there extended a pale tendril of radiance. I looked to the sorcerers.
They came slowly from their task, the Kho’rabi wizards swifter than the Changed. Allanyn was the slowest. She seemed reluctant to leave go the stones she touched. When she did, it was with a shudder, her eyes glazed, focusing only gradually. She licked her lips and wiped a sleeve across the spittle decking her chin. When she saw me watching, her lips pursed a moment. I thought she’d speak, but all she did was smile and turn away. Still there was something triumphant in her look.
Geran came toward us. His long equine face was grave, his eyes somewhat dulled. I thought him wearied.
He said, “So it’s done. Or nearly.”
Rwyan straightened in my arms. “I see only Tezdal, sleeping,” she said.
The spokesman smiled. “Lady, you know great magic was practiced this day.”
She gave him back, “Magic, surely. Great magic? Of that I see no evidence.”
The horse-faced Changed shrugged. “What we’ve done here shall be clear enough in time. Lord Tezdal shall sleep awhile, but when he wakes, he’ll have back his memory.”
“And know himself a Sky Lord.” Allanyn approached us from the side, all her spiteful composure regained. “Know you for his enemies.”
Rwyan faced her with a calm visage. “Shall he have all his memories?” she asked. “All those since we found him?”
Her voice was mild, inquiring. It confused Allanyn, who frowned and made an impatient gesture.
Geran answered, “All, lady. Both those he lost and those he gained in your company.”
Rwyan nodded solemnly. “Then he’ll remember his sworn vow,” she said. “He’ll remember Daviot and I are his friends.”
Allanyn liked that not at all.
We were taken from the vault to another chamber. Not that sparse cell we’d occupied before, but a more spacious’ room, clearly intended for overnight occupation. It was furnished as would be the chamber of a good tavern: comfortably, with all necessary requisites; but of that same blank white stone, and without decoration. There was a window-again of sealed glass-and through it I saw night had fallen. There was a table set with food and wine. We found our appetites were returned.
Rwyan filled a goblet and drank thirstily before she spoke. I was somewhat dazed by what I’d witnessed, and now that we were alone again, I felt trepidation return.
I said, “Tezdal shall have back his memory?”
Rwyan nodded, her face thoughtful. It seemed she took that restoration for a sure conclusion. She said, “They’ve far greater power than I suspected.”
“They convince you?” I asked.
And then I must drink wine to assuage the dread her answer should give. My hand trembled as I raised the cup.
She said, “They do.”
I set the goblet down. The wine soured in my belly. I steeled myself, meeting her calm gaze. I must ask a question now for which I’d no taste.
I suppose my expression was clear enough, for Rwyan gave me a wan smile and shook her head and said, “Not yet, my love. We’ve time yet.”
I sighed and filled my cup again. A few drops fell to the table. They shone in the sourceless light.
Rwyan said, “I’d see Tezdal wake and know the fuller measure of their abilities. And I think they’ll not force me ere then.”
I nodded. “How long shall that be?”
She shrugged. “I’ve no idea. Such magic is unknown in Dharbek.”
Had I been sure of the God’s existence, I’d have sung his praises then, for that small gift of time. No less, I’d have prayed that man I deemed my friend sleep on: I’d have betrayed him for Rwyan’s sake.
I said, “Think you he’ll truly honor his vow, are all his memories restored?”
“I believe he’ll try,” she answered. “But does he wake a Sky Lord reborn, he must surely find his loyalties divided.”
“And you,” I asked, “will not reconsider?”
The look she gave me was answer enough, words redundant. I felt ashamed: her resolve was so much stronger than my own.
She smiled at me then. “Have faith, Daviot. Until that moment comes, we’ve hope. I’ll not believe we’ve come so far only to die here.”
I forced a smile in answer. I saw no reason why Trebizar should not be that place the Pale Friend came for us. Our fate seemed to me only delayed, no more. I thought that did the magic of the Changed work its miracle on Tezdal or not, still that demand should be made of Rwyan; and she refuse. And then I must be bound by my promise, else I betray her and betray our love; and that I would not do. So I foresaw only that we had a little time; that too soon must come the moment I should strike her, and then-doubtless-be myself slain. That mattered nothing: without Rwyan, nothing mattered.
I heard her say, “Put off that glum face, my love. We’ve time yet, and hope.”
I stretched out my lips in facsimile of a smile and did my best to assume a cheerful manner that would match hers. “Yes,” I said, “and they feed us well.”
“And give us a most pleasant chamber, no?”
Her eyes moved sideways, in the direction of the bed.
I felt an urgency then: we had, I thought, so little time left us. I rose and went around the table. Rwyan rose to meet me, and we embraced, our kisses ardent. Of a sudden we were on the bed and not much slower naked. I was entirely unaware of the occult light dimming, for the moon’s glow took its place, silvery on her skin.
When the sun was risen a hand’s span above the walls, our door was opened and Urt stood there.
He said, “Day’s greetings, Daviot; Rwyan.”
She answered him in kind, calmly, as if his appearance afforded her no surprise. I hesitated, no longer sure
