Jyrbian was by the fireplace. He wore a fresh uniform. His hair was combed, not a strand out of place, lie leaned, one arm draped across the mantel, as ca-iually as if she had stopped by for an evening visit.
Khallayne didn’t see Kaede, standing by the window ledge where the sphere was concealed, until she was already through the doorway.
Kaede smiled cruelly when she saw Khallayne’s glance. “I didn’t expect we would ever see you again,” she said dryly.
“Oh, I knew she’d be back,” Jyrbian said easily.
Khallayne looked at him, surprised. Then she saw what he held in his hand, casually rolling it in his palm: the crystal sphere.
His movements might be indifferent, his voice bland, but his face was taut, the skin stretched over the muscles. His eyes were a tarnished metal gray, heavy lidded, and completely mad.
“You still haven’t told me how you did it.”
Khallayne’s eyes followed the crystal.
“Please, Jyrbian,” she said softly.
Jyrbian threw back his head and laughed, low-pitched and filled with madness.
She took a step toward him, sensed Kaede take one toward her. “Please, Jyrbian, let me have the sphere. You have no use for it here. Takar is gone forever. But it doesn’t have to be forgotten. All that we were doesn’t have to be forgotten.”
“You want it to take back to Igraine?” He held it out teasingly.
“To our people, not to Igraine.”
He grinned, his teeth gleaming. “You do know where they are? You knew all along.”
She shook her head. “No, but I’ll find them. Somehow.”
“Tell me.” He held out the sphere. “A trade. The History for the location. For my curiosity.”
Her intuition said run. Now, quickly. No more conversation. Just feet moving, one in front of the other. Quickly.
“No. You’ll just kill me, the way you killed Bakrell.”
Kaede made a muffled noise at the mention of her brother’s name. She stepped forward.
Laughter was bubbling out of Jyrbian once again. The laughter erupted, demented, maniacal. Jyrbian held the globe out to her, cupped between his palms and, as she stepped forward, smashed it, crushed it in his bare hands.
With shards of crystal and blood dripping from his hands, he regarded her.
“How could you?” Kaede screamed. “That was mine! Mine! You’ve destroyed it, as you’ve destroyed Bakrell!”
Jyrbian sidestepped her, continued his stalking of Khallayne, but Kaede jumped in front of him again. “Tell me why you killed my brother!” she screamed in his face.
“He murdered him for no reason,” Khallayne said. “He died in the dungeons of this castle.” Khallayne backed away quickly as Jyrbian swept Kaede aside effortlessly.
With a scream, Kaede rushed him. He backhanded her casually, sending her sprawling on the floor. Her head hit a chair.
Magic seethed in the pit of Khallayne’s stomach, reminding her of flames. Fire. Now. It had to be now. She closed her eyes, a dangerous thing to do, but it helped focus the power.
She felt Jyrbian tense, ready to leap, and she cast the power outward with all her strength. Coldfire. She had no idea where the spell came from. It was intuition by now.
The bluish orange flames leapt toward Jyrbian, enfolded him. He screamed in rage and twisted within the field of flame, shouted out words of an incantation, a prayer for protection from his god. Flames weakened, sputtered; still she concentrated, putting all her knowledge, her fear, her pain, into maintaining the spell. He stumbled, staggered, clutching his brow.
Then, incredibly, Kaede was standing, adding her force to the fire.
Jyrbian turned on Kaede, reaching out through the wall of flame. He grabbed her shoulder, pulled her close, into the fire with him.
Khallayne cried out. Kaede convulsed, her body arching in pain. Jyrbian’s fingers dug into her throat.
Khallayne fell to her knees, sweat and tears mixing on her face. She balled her fists into her stomach and doubled over with the effort of maintaining her attack. Kneeling on the floor, she could feel the broken shards digging into her knees and cutting into her palms. She gathered the pieces up into her hands. A residue of magic still clung to them, an echo of power and song.
Jyrbian dropped Kaede, abandoning her bruised body, and turned his attention to Khallayne.
Khallayne rose to meet him, the pieces of crystal in her fingers, met him with fury for what was lost- the city, the Ogre civilization, the Song of History.
Unable to defeat the flames that surrounded him, he reached through them. A lamp exploded. Something large fell behind her. The window, the beautiful, etched glass window, exploded inward, sending glass arcing toward the ceiling.
Behind him, Kaede climbed slowly to her feet, almost unable to walk. Khallayne couldn’t understand her, but her lips were moving as she stumbled toward Jyrbian.
He turned his attack on her. Something leapt toward Kaede. She took the blow full-force in the chest, but kept moving, walking toward him, leaning forward as though into a blizzard-strength wind.
Too late, he realized what she was doing. He tried to back away, but Kaede reached out for him. She stepped into the fire of Khallayne’s spell, bringing with her whatever spell it was she’d been casting, and turning the power of his own attack back on him.
“Go!” she whispered to Khallayne. “Go!”
Khallayne ran as things in the room erupted into flame, as the rocks and crystals on the window ledge began to explode.
In the doorway, she paused to look back, seeing only Jyrbian’s face, the face she’d once thought the most beautiful in all of Takar, twisted with hate.
She wheeled and ran down the corridors, down the stairs, and out into night, into the cool air. But she could still hear Jyrbian’s voice, twisted, demented, inside her head, screaming.
Her horse had been left at the coliseum, so she took Jyrbian’s big stallion. He stood in his stall, still saddled.
Khallayne galloped down into Takar, back into the flames, automatically heading for the west gate. To get back to the plains, she’d have to take a different route than before, toward Bloten. The passes northward would already be snowed in.
The streets were almost empty. Most of the houses and buildings showed damage, but the worst of the fires still burned brightly to the east, nearer the coliseum.
No one bothered her. No guards challenged her as she galloped through the gates and out onto the wide road leading out of Takar.
She almost didn’t hear her name being called out over the pounding of the horse’s hooves. She looked back and saw a small figure in rough clothing running down the shoulder of the road, waving her arms, cloak streaming out behind.
Jelindra! She pulled hard on the reins, bringing the horse to a stop. She was sure Jelindra would be gone by now! She slid to the ground. Jelindra almost knocked her off her feet as she threw her arms around her.
“Oh, Khallayne, I though you’d never come!”
Khallayne hugged her just as tightly. “I thought I wouldn’t either. I can’t believe you’re still here.”
Jelindra appeared healthy, though her face was dirty and her hair full of twigs. “I told you I’d wait,” she said. “I hid in the woods, and I watched the road every day. Then I saw the fires, and I thought you weren’t going to come!” She threw her arms around Khallayne again.
Khallayne hugged her back. “Well, I’m here now. Let’s go home.”
Nodding, Jelindra stepped back, wiping away tears and streaking dirt across her cheeks. “How will we find
