Sansyra would have expected to be racked with grief, but after insensate rage it was numbness that overwhelmed her. All during the long, difficult return journey to their hiding place, and the terrible report, Sansyra doggedly carried out her duties. It was almost as though she was one step removed from herself, a dispassionate observer watching her body work. She was even able to rest, although she hardly felt connected or refreshed after she woke in the afternoon. When Varama asked if she would guard while contacting N’lahr, she agreed without reservation.
The two altens swiftly compared states of readiness. N’lahr couldn’t help revealing apprehension when he learned noises had been heard outside one of the tunnel entrances deeper in the city. The Naor had begun to probe another access point so Varama had once again collapsed the entire tunnel. It would take the Naor a very long time to clear that obstacle.
From N’lahr they learned additional details about last night’s significant Naor defeat outside the walls, including a summarized description of Alten Gyldara’s battle with a wounded Naor dragon.
Once the two Altenerai had traded information, N’lahr changed subjects. He’d gotten a little better at masking his feelings, but there was no missing the concern in his tone. How’s morale?
Varama’s answer was blunt. It’s low. We’ve lost almost all of my original lead officers, and nine warriors. The Alantrans shift constantly between anger and despair, for their city is being destroyed and their people suffer and they feel that our actions are futile.
It was worse than that, Sansyra thought, and was a little ashamed that Varama noticed and wove it into her conversation.
Sansyra is correct in that some feel our actions actually exacerbate the Naor depradations. At least one of the Alantrans blames me for slaying Denalia, although if she had been captured alive she would have suffered terrible anguish and may have been forced to reveal our position besides.
Will they follow your plans? N’lahr’s simple words belied the serious edge behind them.
By contrast, Varama was coolly controlled. They need follow me this one last time. The plans will see us through. There is nothing more that can be done.
You are wrong, for once. Speak to them, Varama. Tell them you’re aware of their suffering. Let them know that you’ve suffered, too, for some will be too self-involved to realize how well you conceal your reactions.
That sounds like what Renik would have said. Sansyra thought she detected an echo of some ancient loss there, different from grief in a way she didn’t fully understand. And then Varama’s feelings were opaque once more. Sansyra struggled to keep her speculations to herself, but couldn’t help wondering a host of things that she had never before suspected.
N’lahr was briefly pleased. If I sound like the Commander, N’lahr communicated, then that’s all the more reason to heed my advice.
I shall take it under consideration.
Following that pronouncement, the surprises were complete, and the two touched briefly upon their timetable before concluding their conversation. Varama shut down the stone and sat for a time staring into space. Sansyra wondered if she was expected simply to depart, but held still in the chair across from her superior.
Finally the alten met her eyes.
“All of us have had our hurts,” she said. “I believe it often surprises the young that their elders have a number of tragedies in their accumulated experiences. But I think the old often forget how painful wounds can be while fresh. I couldn’t help but notice yours, Sansyra. How is your morale?”
In attempting to put her own thoughts into perspective, Sansyra’s discipline faltered, and before she knew it, she’d begun to cry. This shamed her, and she struggled to put an apology together as she kept her face low to minimize its scrutibility.
“Dialogue is a poor salve to many hurts,” Varama observed sadly.
Sansyra fought to master her feelings, and to curtail regret, and to put aside those last comforting moments with Lemahl, with her head upon his shoulder. She wanted another memory like that, and not to constantly see him fall, hand tightly gripped to the hilt at his side. She’d known what he would do if he couldn’t rise and follow.
“And it’s generally more devastating to watch death take those who are dear, or those depending on you,” Varama added, “than to brave a deadly direct assault.”
“How do you find the strength to go forward?” Sansyra managed to say softly.
Varama looked away before answering, her gaze directed at something beyond the wall. “Renik once said that when there is no avenue of retreat, and you cannot hold your ground, the only choice is to advance.”
That hadn’t helped. “I’m tired of advancing,” Sansyra admitted quietly. “I want to be somewhere where people’s lives don’t hang on every choice we make, and to be someone who doesn’t have to make those choices.”
Varama faced her. Her overbright eyes held a fierce look in an otherwise haggard mein. “We’re fighting so that other people, and maybe even ourselves, might reach that place.”
“That’s what you should tell the others.” Sansyra wiped at her eyes. She’d finally managed to regain control.
Varama eyed her coolly. “I suspect that they’ve heard enough from me already.”
“No, Alten. I think you need to talk to them as you’ve talked to me. They’ve seen your strength. Sometimes people need to see your weakness as well. It lets them know you’re … human. That you’re able to see things as they do.”
Varama smiled faintly. “I am all too human, Sansyra, and also weary of the choices to be made here.” She regarded Sansyra quietly for a time, then addressed her courteously. “It’s time we both rested. Your counsel is appreciated. You’re dismissed.”
“Yes, Alten.” Sansyra rose. “Thank you,” she said, but to that Varama only nodded distractedly. She left the alten there and returned to the welcome oblivion of sleep. That afternoon, those who remained met in the cavern with its wide pool. Sansyra tried not to dwell on their diminished numbers. The squires and soldiers were drawn up in formation, by rank. In the last days they had blended freely, united in their struggle, and their loss.
Varama faced them and told them to stand at ease. Her eyes were dark rimmed and deeply lined, as they had been for days, but for once her hair was properly brushed. Her khalat was clean and her boots, if not quite shining, held a dull luster that reflected torchlight. Sansyra felt a pang, sensing something in Varama’s gaze that was lost and fragile and bewildered before the door slammed shut again. What, she wondered, might Varama say to allay their worries?
The alten spoke in her high, clear voice, thinner with fatigue. “If I’ve asked much of you, it is in part because there was no one else to ask. We few were in this place, at this time. None of us wanted bloodshed, but the enemy brought it, and they are resolute in their aim.” She paused and let her regard roam over them. “They mean simply to end us—body, mind, and soul. They end us not only at the points of their weapons, through their depraved degradations, and in the fires of their wanton destruction, but by ending the freedoms that we usually take for granted; that so long as it harm none, we may choose our vocation, our loves, our dwelling places, even our customs. These freedoms are defined in our laws and define us to friend and enemy alike.
“Those of you who pledged, like me, to the Altenerai Corps, swore not only to defend these laws, but to shield the people who practice them, unto your dying breath. And those soldiers of Alantris who stand with us vowed to defend their city and their homeland with their lives.
“Those vows have been bravely kept at great cost. We have been united in our efforts to weaken the enemy, and we have succeeded beyond hope. That so many have perished to reach this point is a bitter measure, but like the taste of hard liquor, let that give you fire. For we have come to the decisive moment. Everything hinges on the actions we take tonight. If we falter, all those who have given their lives will have died in vain.”
Sansyra felt a lump form in her throat.
“But if we triumph, the enemy will be driven from our sight, and our people will live, free once more. This night we must let loose the beast of war, red handed and merciless. And if this be our numbered day, we must rejoice, that we fall in so noble a struggle.”
There was a rustle behind her as one soldier came to attention and saluted, and then the remaining Alantrans followed. Quickly, Sansyra called the squires to attention and presented her own salute, and she felt rather than saw the outpouring of emotion from the squires with her.
She would have liked, so much, if that shared humanity had somehow pierced the strange bubble that surrounded her commanding officer and provided comfort to the person within, she who was ever befuddled by the imperfect resolve of those around her.
Instead Varama gave only the slightest of nods, and ordered them to their stations. Men and women filed past. The alten, though, beckoned her close, and they stepped to the pool, under the shadow of a single lantern.
“That was nicely said, Alten,” Sansyra offered. At Varama’s blank look, it occurred to her that Varama was already thinking beyond the speech. The compliment passed over the alten with an eye blink as her officer got to the point.
“I want you to have this.” Varama pulled her hand from her pouch, opened her fingers, and revealed a semblance stone. Sansyra felt a little dejected at the sight of it. She looked up at her mentor’s face. Did she expect her to take on the semblance of an alten as she and her troops secured the gate?
“I know your own magical stores are scant. You can tap this not as a way to disguise yourself, but as a source of energy to power your weaving. It’s like a limited hearthstone.”
“Don’t you need it?”
“I have Belahn’s old stone, the one N’lahr sent, and I will tap it well this night. Take the semblance. Drain it dry. It might make the difference.”
“I will. Thank you.” The gesture touched Sansyra deeply, for it was tantamount to a deep embrace.
Varama continued, “It’s vital you win your gate and hold it. This should be an assignment for an alten, but you’re nearly there—”
“I’m not sure I want the ring,” Sansayra blurted out in confession.
Varama looked startled at last, then quickly recovered. “That’s your prerogative, and something about which we should speak at a later time. Assuming we have one.”
Sansyra nodded but didn’t interrupt further.
“Whatever happens from here, I wish you to know that I appreciate your aid. Yours was a challenging role. I told you the numbers needed for a task, and it was you who had to pick the names. And often it was you who saw them fall.” Briefly Varama’s invisible veil slipped and Sansyra glimpsed a hint of anguish.
It was gone so swiftly she might have imagined it. “Thank you,” Varama said, for once meeting Sansyra’s eyes with something approaching warmth.
“It is my pleasure, and honor, to serve you, Alten. There is none with whom I would rather work.”
“That is kind,” Varama said, and it might be that just this once she actually registered the compliment, for she hesitated a brief moment before continuing. “I’ve wished for years we could outfit the higher-ranked squires in better armor, because too often we have to send you into places where we’d go ourselves, and without so fine a protection.”
There was no way around that, owing to expense and lengthy preparation of the fibers used to fashion khalats, and the slow growth of the trees from which they were processed. “That’s how it’s always been. You know we couldn’t have gotten to this moment without you, Alten. Please be careful. We may need you yet.”
“I will do what must be done. Just as you will. Now we’d best be on our way.”
So saying, Varama stepped past. Sansyra followed, and they headed forth to free the city or die in the trying.