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SUNLIGHT STRUCK SHIANAN as he emerged from the cover of the trees, making him wince and squint. His stride did not break. A soldier did not slow for things such as changing light.
He had chosen a route to run on his third day here, needing some outlet for his nervous energy. Running gave him a way to work his taut muscles without the need for an opponent, and he would find few fighters capable of challenging him here.
He did not know how many leagues he covered. He ran until he was too winded to continue, when he slowed to walk and regain his breath. Then he ran again. He ran through peasants’ fields, past mills powered by streams or slaves, over greens where geese and pigs fed while tended by staring children, through unnaturally straight herb gardens. Hours passed before he made his way back to the large house of warm golden travertine. The over-sized oaken doors were open and he went directly inside.
Kraden was directing barrels to one storeroom or another when Shianan passed through, rubbing an arm over his damp face. The majordomo noted his arrival. “Good afternoon, my lord. Lisbeth! Something to drink for the master!”
Shianan waved away the ale the maid indicated first, nodding when she offered water instead. Fhure had excellent water, sweet from a spring which burbled forth in the cellar of the main house and then out through a channel into the yard. Shianan liked the taste of it.
It was good that he liked the water, for there was little enough else to like about Fhure. He had never really visited his county, as he had never been able to spare the time from his duties, and though the servants were obedient enough, even obsequious, he thought he detected an underlying resentment. He understood it—they had been long neglected—and he thought he could address it, had he the mind. But he could not face the challenge of another disapproving eye, and so he largely ignored them, peremptorily greeting the steward and promising curtly that they would go over the management at some later date. He went woodenly through the days, eating and drinking, pacing the corridors and exploring his property, running through his fields and the village down the hill from the main house.
He had heard nothing from Alham, not from Septime nor Ariana. He had not told them where he would go. He thought it would be simple enough to guess, if they wished, and he more than half hoped they wouldn’t.
Tears of frustration burned at his eyes as emotion rose anew. He had tried his best, and it had not been enough. In the end, his desperate efforts to please were meaningless. He had offered his earnest service and received nothing in exchange. It was a market he would not enter again.
He blinked against the treacherous tears, feigning another wipe of his sweaty forehead to rub them away. Then he lifted a hand, bringing the maid. “I’m filthy,” he said shortly. “I need a bath.”
“I’ll have one prepared, your lordship.”
MARU BENT OVER THE table, observing the tiny structures Tamaryl was tracing in the broken crystal. “It cycles endlessly?” he asked skeptically.
“Not endlessly, of course,” Tamaryl said. “It enhances, back and forth like a magnifying echo, and I think enough to allow us to leap across the between-worlds. We can use it for more than just harmonizing against the shield. The problem is, the fracture produces too much refraction, spilling energy out. It’s an enormous energy sink to start—that’s why the Shard is useful to the Circle, but not to a single mage—and to be truthful, I don’t think I can generate enough power.”
But Tamaryl would not have broken bad news in this manner. “So you have thought of another way.”
“We can leech power from the Shard itself.”
Maru caught his breath. “Can we?”
“I think I can channel it, even if I cannot generate it. I’ll need to infuse a little at a time, what I can create now, storing enough to start the interaction. It should be able to accumulate enough that, with the inherent amplification, it will approximate typical power.”
A typical che’s power, Maru understood. Not the Pairvyn’s. “Will it be enough?”
“We need only a few minutes, and then we should be able to jump before anyone comes to check on the fluctuation, if they even notice.”
Maru nodded. The plan was dangerous, but it was the most likely they’d found thus far. “You haven’t told them yet. Perhaps the White Mage could help infuse—”
“I’ll tell them later,” Tamaryl interrupted, and his soft voice spoke more than his words.
“One more question,” Maru ventured, as much to distract Tamaryl as anything else. “When we reach home—will we heal?”
Tamaryl’s face clouded. “I think so.” Then he looked at Maru with a more hopeful expression. “We find this world’s magic a little more difficult to use. That’s always been the case. When we are in our own atmosphere again, we should find it easier to draw our own power.”
Maru nodded again. He was nim; if he never recovered from the Subduing, his social position would remain unchanged. He would remain crippled, bound to the earth instead of traveling freely, and he would find himself performing manual labor instead of magical tasks, but he would remain what he was.
Tamaryl, on the other hand, could not return without his power. He was already a figure of suspicion, having been condemned and exiled, having returned with a human mage, having demanded release from a long betrothal. He would need careful politicking to regain his stature again even with his restored title. It would happen, of course—Tamaryl was a good Ryuven, and with time the skills which had made him Pairvyn ni’Ai would win him respect once more——but it would take concentrated effort and display of magnificence.
However, if he returned wounded and empty of power, no different than the Subdued, he would be easy prey in Oniwe’aru’s court.
Tamaryl smiled. “Cheer up, Maru. If we’re careful, no one will come until it’s too late to stop us, if at all.”
Maru nodded, unconvinced.
Tamaryl looked at the crystalline chip. “It’s our best hope. A few days more, so that I have enough power stored in the fragment, and we’ll chance it.”