her, she realized, and she was allowing it to happen.
'Do not concern yourself with him. He knew the cost.'
'But Myrmeen and the Harpers-'
'They will live. We have no wish to do them harm, Krystin. I will not lie to you.'
His angular features twisted up in a smile that was meant to be comforting. Instead, it made Krystin's heart beat wildly as he brought his arm to her face and instructed her to stare at the eyes. She felt the haziness of dreams quickly overtake her, then heard him laugh as he said, 'Now we shall see what we shall see…'
Suddenly her world was draped in shadows. When she woke, she was alone in the room. Sixx was gone, along with the old healer's body. While she had slept, her dreams had revealed the truth. She sat up, the restraints once again dangling over the edge of the table, and heard the emerald locket clatter to the floor as it slid from her chest. Leaping off the table, she snatched it from the floor, examined its surface, and held it close to her breast.
She remained like that for a time, then rose and went upstairs to greet the others. Her wound had been dressed, and she was surprised to learn that she had only been absent for a matter of minutes.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw something move in the shadows-a reminder that not all of what she had experienced had been a dream. Dully, she recited the words Lord Sixx had given her, and Shandower laughed, not at all surprised that the old healer had evicted them. As they prepared to leave, Krystin held her locket before her. With trembling lips, she said, 'My locket, the chain broke.'
'I can fix that for you,' Ord said. 'Don't worry.'
She nodded. As they left the house and became one with the night, Krystin found that worrying was the only task she still had strength to accomplish. As they carefully made their way through the streets, to the stables where their mounts and supplies waited, Krystin hurried and walked beside Myrmeen. Without a word, she put her arm around the woman's waist and rested her head on Myrmeen's shoulder.
Myrmeen had been shocked and had raised her hands. She lowered them slowly and wrapped them around Krystin, practically dragging the girl with her as they walked along, wordless, into the deepening night.
Myrmeen squinted in the harsh light of the afternoon sun. They had left Calimport the previous evening and had been on what Shandower described as the Dead Run ever since. The route he had chosen once had been favored by traders trying to make time and avoid the blistering stretches of desert north of the city. They had come east, on a trail of land that ran parallel to the shoreline. The route was hazardous and the name it had been given was well deserved. On several occasions, the mounts had refused to move any farther. Shandower understood that they were approaching pockets of land that had been subtly altered by the magical and physical upheavals during the time of Arrival, when the gods had walked the Realms. An apparently safe patch of land could suddenly shift, like a sink hole, and swallow an entire party of travelers without a hint of warning.
Myrmeen looked past the winding, craggy cliff to the gulf below. The waters were choppy and the afternoon sun sparkling on the surface dispelled the initial impression that the sea was as hard as glass. A hazy band of white gathered at the horizon, separating the vast expanse of the Shining Sea from the distant sky. As her mount carried her through the difficult path Shandower had chosen, Myrmeen closed her eyes and imagined that she was home in Arabel, lying in her scented bath with delicate tongues of water caressing her flesh. A high squeal of laughter from behind her sent the fantasy scurrying from her mind, and she opened her eyes to the blinding sunlight. Her skin was covered in sweat from the sweltering heat. She smelled foul, and she hated it.
Shandower rode point, Reisz had been beside her, and Krystin had been riding with Ord for the past two hours. The young Harper had honored his promise and fixed the chain on her emerald locket the previous evening, when they had stopped for the night. He had used the cooking fires to fuse the metal together, a crude but serviceable solution that had delighted the fourteen-year-old.
'Keep aware, you two!' Reisz shouted. His words were met with even more laughter. The Harper shook his head sourly as he turned to Myrmeen. 'They never listen.'
'Perhaps that's just as well,' Myrmeen said with a weariness that made her sound and feel older than her thirty-four years. 'I don't think Krystin's ever had the chance just to be a child, not to have to worry about survival.'
'Ord has never had that chance either,' Reisz said.
'I should ask her about it. In all the time we've been together, I've never allowed her to be herself. I think I've been putting expectations on her. You understand, it's as if I've been saying to her, This is what I want my daughter to be. If you don't measure up, well, then, I suppose you can take the next caravan out.' '
'Were you allowed to be a child?' he asked.
She laughed. 'Most of my adult life, it seems.' With a sigh, she added, 'Reisz, I don't know what to do.'
The swarthy-skinned Harper looked over his shoulder and said, 'For one thing, you could tend to that situation before it gets even more out of control.'
Myrmeen had no idea what he was talking about. Glancing back in the direction he had indicated, Myrmeen was stunned to see Krystin and Ord riding side by side, their mounts close enough that they were able to hold hands as they rode. Krystin brought Ord's hand to her lips and kissed it gently.
A hammer blow to the forehead would have been less jarring to Myrmeen. She looked away and gripped the reins of her mount so tightly that her knuckles became white.
'How long has this been going on?' she asked.
Raising an eyebrow, Reisz said, 'How long have they known each other? You, of all people, couldn't see what was going on?'
Swallowing hard, Myrmeen said, 'I thought they were just friends. I wanted her to have someone she could confide in. She certainly wasn't embracing me in that regard.'
'You weren't doing much to encourage her, Myrmeen. And I don't believe you had much to do with this situation either-other than pushing Krystin away whenever she needed you, that is.'
Myrmeen tensed. 'Have you forgotten she stole from us?'
'She stole from you. Perhaps it was the only way to get your attention.'
'Strange words, coming from a Harper.'
'The situation is not exactly normal, Myrmeen. Perhaps when we stop next to make sure we are not being followed, I'll take Ord to the side and give him a few gentle urgings about how he should conduct himself with impressionable young ladies, and you can have a discussion with Krystin.'
Myrmeen frowned as she considered how Krystin would take it. 'One of the things I've always hated most is having someone else tell me what to do.'
'Then you won't accept my suggestion?'
'No, you're right,' she said. Myrmeen set her gaze toward his face, noting the obvious compassion that softened his scarred features. 'Reisz, there was a time when I needed to be taken care of and you were-'
'I think I should see how Shandower is faring. He could still get delirious from his wound.'
Abruptly, Reisz prodded his mount forward and left Myrmeen to ride alone for a time.
Night had fallen before Myrmeen had a chance for a quiet moment alone with Krystin. Despite Shandower's warnings that they all should remain together, Myrmeen took Krystin to the shore, where they waded into the gulfs cool, refreshing waters after removing their leathers and boots. Both women were expert swimmers, and before long they were tussling in the waters, holding each other's heads below the surface and racing each other back to shore. Afterward, they lay on the beach, the cool white sand clinging to their bare bodies in the strong moonlight. They stared up at the pinpricks of light visible beyond the layer of drifting clouds that sometimes stepped in front of the waiting moon.
'Your arm,' Myrmeen said. 'It's bleeding again.'
Krystin tensed visibly. 'The healer said it might from time to time-nothing to worry about.'
Myrmeen picked up a sheer dressing gown she had taken from her bags and returned to the waters. She wetted the gown and wrung it out as if it were a worthless rag rather than an expensive import. When she returned, Myrmeen took Krystin's arm and dabbed at the gash, cleaning out any sand that may have lodged in the wound.
Krystin was surprised by the softness of her mother's hands. From what she had gathered about the woman's past, she had expected Myrmeen's skin to be hard and worn by her trials, as toughened and leathery as her demeanor had been after their first day together. What she had seen tonight had made her question the validity of that appearance.
