They cantered into the center of town and found its quaint tavern. They tethered the animals outside.
The barkeep was leaning back on a stool, both booted feet up on the bar. He was reading some weathered old book that had lost both front and back covers, and he didn't bother to glance up until it was time to turn the page. He set the book down and greeted his customers levelly.
"Ain't got much," he said. "No shipments since Grondell got sacked."
So some news had made it here. The razing of Grondell was still the biggest.
"Mostly we came in for news," said Scythia, taking a stool at the bar. Axebourne scanned the place cursorily and joined her. "We knew about Grondell. Have you heard of anything else?"
The barkeep slipped off his stool and onto his feet. He rummaged under the bar for something, produced a dusty old bottle that was still sealed.
"You drinkin'?" he asked, fetching two short glasses.
Scythia knew he wouldn't speak freely unless they bought some of his drink. Even with the end of Overland on their very doorsteps, a man had to conduct his business.
Axebourne fished two gold thumpers out of his purse and let them fall onto the bar. They thumped. It was an extravagant amount. The barkeep nodded appreciatively. He opened the old bottle and set it down between the glasses.
"Why don't you share it with us," Axebourne said. "We have to ride back - I won't want more than one or two."
The barkeep shrugged and got himself a glass. He poured for everyone and resumed his seat.
"Two cities gone," he said. "One each day after Grondell. Messenger said it went just the same as the Temple city. You heard that part?"
Scythia nodded, heart sinking. Two more cities.
"Weird, singing towers," the barkeep said. "Make you barf up your guts. Giants smashing everything in sight. Nothing left behind."
"No fortress this time?" Scythia asked. The barkeep shook his head.
"Don't think so. Not that I was told anyway. I mean, there's only one Testadel. Maybe he couldn't push up a lesser fortress?"
Or maybe he was saving them for something bigger. Grondell was important, but it wasn't the biggest city in Overland.
"Which two cities?" Scythia asked. She took a swig of her drink for the first time. It was clear and light, but ignited a fire in her throat and belly. Something more than mead. She watched as Axebourne drank. His eyes lit up, and she chuckled inwardly. He loved the heat of it.
"Chasmreach and Shrill," the barkeep answered. Scythia's heart sank further. Chasmreach had been her home. Axebourne set his drink down hard and looked up at the barkeep.
The man flinched, as if surprised Axebourne would care.
"You're sure?" Axebourne asked. "Chasmreach?" The barkeep nodded.
Axebourne looked at his wife. "I'm sorry, darling."
He put a hand on her back but didn't watch her face for long. He knew better than to do any more than that. When she needed more, she would ask.
Scythia took the news as stoically as she could, but it was a punch to the gut. Something that had always been was now no more. Something far more personal than Grondell, or the Temple. A place where she had memories, where she had learned love, and hate, and the drive to seek the wider world. It wasn't as if any of her family were still around to have died in the attack. Still, it had been home. If the barkeep said anything more, Scythia didn't hear it.
She was no longer Scythia of Chasmreach.
They rode back toward Chasmverge slowly and in silence. Axebourne knew she would talk when she was ready. It was many miles before she felt so, and when at last she did, everything came out in an incoherent flood. She suffered the deluge of old memories, long-missed images of her parents, the grands, uncles and aunts and cousins. She shared some of these with Axebourne as she wept, though he had long ago heard most of her stories, and she his. But he listened as if it were the first time.
She asked him if they could stop for the night. It wasn't late - it wasn't yet even dinner time - but she didn't feel like being cooped up in the wizard's tower yet. She needed more fresh air, more open space, and to the Chasm with it if they were attacked out here in the wild. Axebourne agreed readily. He'd always liked sleeping out under the moon anyway.
They laid out pallets and made a fire. Axebourne ate, Scythia did not, and they talked and held each other until the silver moon slid high overhead. At last they lay back together under the deep, black sky, and loved each other fiercely, dispelling the darkness for a time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
A Strange Wind
When all was said and done, Pierce and the garrison men had provided Sev with more silicon than he'd needed to grow the magnificent crystals he'd use to distill that glorious blue light. They were long and fat, most as big as a child, some as big as a man. Sev had used his strange craft to enchant each seed crystal with an almost biological need to grow quickly, and large, and so the whole process hadn't taken as long as Ess and Eff had expected. Naturally, they had wanted to know all about the enchantment and process, and now they did.
The crystals had been taken outside, and every day at dawn Sev sat with them, using a peculiar power to draw the sunlight into his big hands as it passed through them. Despite the two wizards' intense curiosity, Seve insisted he couldn't teach them how to perform the last step, for it was something only his race could do, as far as he knew.
The blue light congealed in his hand, and he crushed it in his palm like a physical thing. After holding it in a tight grip for
