Elenai would have asked for details then and there, but as she and N’lahr rounded the corner they discovered a crowd gathered in front of the barracks building, one apparently more agitated than festive. A couple dozen people were talking with the squires on duty outside. Judging from their hand wringing and wide gestures the questioners weren’t liking what they heard.
A man on the edge caught sight of Elenai and N’lahr, and at his prompting all eyes swung to watch them as they neared. The crowd quieted, although one gruff voice called that there were kobalin in the city, and a matronly woman demanded to know if it was true.
“I’ve not heard this news,” N’lahr answered calmly.
“But we saw kobalin being brought in through the gates,” a young woman said.
“Only one,” an older man clarified. “But it was huge, and black.”
A gangly man with a cobbler’s apron stepped forward. “Was he a prisoner?”
Another chimed in. “It was with Altenerai. Why would they bring one into the city?”
Elenai relaxed. There could only be one kobalin entering the city with Altenerai. Ortok had arrived.
“That’s no prisoner,” N’lahr said. “He’s come to help us fight the Naor.” The crowd regarded him in stunned silence as he explained. “There’s no danger. You’re safe. This kobalin has aided us before, and will do so again. And he’ll be leaving the city tomorrow.” He strode among the gathering, returned the salutes of the sentries, and stepped through the door they opened for him. Elenai came after. She had a sense that her commander was amused, though he wasn’t smiling.
Elenai had last seen Ortok a number of days before, when they’d had to leave him in the shifts with some squires and the formidable elder alten, Tretton. All had been wounded, and unable to keep up with Kyrkenall, N’lahr, and Elenai as they raced to save Vedessus.
From the squire at the duty desk, they learned healers were seeing to the squires but Tretton had already been tended and would be in the mess hall. They found him putting down his knife and rising smoothly the instant he caught sight of N’lahr. His eyes were tired, but there was no other sign of fatigue in the man’s manner. There wouldn’t be. He effected a dignified salute with his off hand, for a white sling supported his right arm. “Hail, Altenerai.”
Elenai had to remind herself to answer with N’lahr. “Hail.”
Alten Gyldara, seated nearby, had likewise risen, smiling warmly as she acknowledged them. She sought Elenai’s eye particularly, and Elenai was pleased to have earned the regard of the long-admired instructor after fighting at her side through wave after wave of Naor warriors.
Ortok, a hulking shadow over the largest pile of food Elenai had ever seen, turned on the bench with a wide grin on his furry face and his dark eyes glinting in the reflected light from a nearby window. “Greetings!” he boomed. “Fine food has been brought. And lady magickers have helped the arm of Tretton. He can move it now.”
To demonstrate, Tretton raised his arm in its sling and flexed his hand in a fist.
“How does it feel?” N’lahr asked him.
“Almost normal.”
A single nod from N’lahr acknowledged he was glad to learn this news. More likely relieved, for it was his blade that had injured the man. “The squires?”
“Still being tended,” Tretton answered. “Yeva has an infected wound, but the healers thought she had a fair chance. They’re not sure Renn’s shoulder will recover fully, but Dalahn’s just about ready for service now.”
Once more N’lahr nodded. “You made excellent time.”
“Yes,” Tretton agreed.
Ortok looked confused as he bit off a slab of roasted meat. Kobalin had a terrible sense of time, Elenai recalled, because the length of seasons and even days in the shifts, where they made their homes, had few set patterns.
Yet it seemed the kobalin had more important matters in mind as he spoke up, his resonant bass carrying clearly. “Gyldara tells that you have now finished your great battle against Naor.” He half turned and scooped scrambled eggs into his mouth with his fingers. Tretton’s gray mustache tightened a bit, though Elenai wasn’t sure why until the kobalin swallowed and climbed from the bench. “With the battle over, we should duel. Unless you wish to eat first.”
Ortok was a head higher than N’lahr and half again as wide. His powerful, furry arms stretched nearly to his knees. And Elenai had learned he was swift, too.
Gods. Surely he wasn’t still serious about fighting the commander? Here and now?
Ortok grinned, showing huge pointed incisors. Tretton stepped to one side, ostensibly to retrieve his goblet, although to Elenai’s eye he was ready to assault Ortok’s left flank.
Gyldara watched tensely from the right
Tall though he was, N’lahr raised his head to meet the kobalin eye to eye. “If I fight you now, Ortok, one of us dies.”
“Yes.”
“I can’t die right now. My people need me to defeat the Naor who are attacking one of our cities to the southeast. I must lead an army to fight them.”
“Then you will have to kill me to help them.”
N’lahr shook his head. “If I kill you, you won’t be able to kill any Naor, either. I’d rather we were both alive to do that.”
“It is good to kill Naor,” Ortok agreed. The kobalin waited, as if musing, silent.
“I release you from your debt, Ortok. You’ve more than repaid it. But I won’t fight you. I wish for neither of us to be killed or injured.”
“You will not fight me?” The kobalin’s voice rose indignantly.
“No. I hope you will accept a different pledge. The debt of friendship.”
Ortok puzzled over that, his jaw outthrust. “You wish me to take your debt?”
“I wish us to exchange debts.”
Ortok’s brow furrowed. “If we exchange debts,” he rumbled slowly, “then we cancel them, unless one is heavier than the other.”
“That’s not how friendship works. Kyrkenall and I are indebted to one another because we’re friends.”
“You are his superior.”
The explanation was too simple. “I was his friend before I became his commander.”
Ortok mulled this over while saying nothing.
“Don’t you have any friends among the kobalin?”
“Of course!” Ortok shook his head as if N’lahr was an amusing idiot. “But we always know who leads. And you and I cannot decide that without a duel.”
“I suggest we consider ourselves equals,” N’lahr said.
“How can I be equal when you have an army and I do not?”
That was a reasonable objection. “If you can get an army,” N’lahr said, “you can command it at my side.”
Elenai wasn’t sure what to make of that suggestion, but the kobalin scratched his head, apparently giving the idea serious thought. He must have decided to accept it, for after a moment he returned to his central concern. “And after we kill more Naor, then we duel?”
“A debt of friendship doesn’t lead to dueling.”
“I like the words you speak about armies, and equals.” Ortok smacked his chest. “Better than fighting at your side is leading an army at your side, although this will take some planning. But best still is fighting in the end, after we kill Naor.”
“That’s not how it’s done between friends.”
“This”—Ortok paused to point at himself and then N’lahr—“is not how it is done between kobalin and Altenerai.”
“Not usually.”
“Well then. If this is different, then so is our end. We will duel, after we kill the Naor, but until then I accept your debt of friendship. How is friendship done?”
Elenai wished for a different result than this. At least N’lahr had bought some time. She’d grown fond of Ortok and hated to think of him dying. She supposed it was just possible he might kill N’lahr in the battle. Neither prospect was remotely appealing.
The commander raised his hand. “We clasp hands.”
“Are there words of power to say?” Ortok asked.
“Give me a moment.” N’lahr was silent for a good while, then lifted his hand, palm out. “When we take hands, we pledge to aid and counsel one another in peace and war, and to safeguard and protect the allies, friends, and possessions of the other so long as those friends and allies do not bring harm to our other friends, possessions, and allies.”
“Will we share food?”
“Of course,” N’lahr said. “We will share supplies.”
“It will be as though we are elders,” Ortok said, “but with bloodshed.”
Elenai wasn’t sure what the relationships between kobalin elders were like.
“Your pardon,” Tretton interrupted. “What do you mean about elders and bloodshed, if you don’t mind me asking?” His phrasing was impeccably polite, though his eyes were ice cold.
Ortok looked over at him as if explaining to a child. “Elders no longer prove might with combat, but N’lahr and I do.”
“I see.” Tretton hadn’t remotely relaxed his ready stance, and Gyldara, who had backed to cover Ortok’s right flank, also looked grave.
Ortok raised his hand and then lowered it to N’lahr. “It is a strange thing, this debt. What if we don’t like it?”
“Then we must talk about it.”
“Talk, but not fight?”
“Some friends fight. Usually not to the death.”
“Huh. Maybe only good friends do that.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You fae are strange. Here is my hand.” The kobalin thrust it forward, fingers extended widely.
There was that word again. The Naor had begun using it to distinguish the people of the realms from the “true” humans, they themselves. It was odd to hear that it had worked its way into kobalin speech as well.
N’lahr extended his own hand. Elenai heard Gyldara suck in a breath as the commander clasped about half of Ortok’s great lower arm. The kobalin’s fingers closed completely about the commander’s forearm.
“You are so small, N’lahr. If I didn’t know better, I would think you were weak.”
“He’s not at all,” Tretton interjected.
“Oh, I know,” Ortok agreed. “That is why you are so confusing. Do we say other words to close the ceremony?”
“Friend,” N’lahr improvised.
“Friend,” Ortok said with a growl, then grinned at him, displaying an impressive number of teeth. N’lahr released his grip and the kobalin did likewise.
“Now I have fed, and we have talked. I should like a time of rest.”
“We can arrange that. Do you have quarters yet?”
“We have not discussed a sleeping place.”
“Stay here for a moment and enjoy some more wine. The four of us will go find a place for you.”
“I do like the wine,” Ortok said, and ambled back to the table. The wood creaked as he resumed the bench.
“Ortok,” N’lahr said, “you are clear that there’s to be no dueling between you and my friends and allies?”
Ortok paused in mid-reach for the wine jug. His eyes gave a very human roll, as if N’lahr were exasperating. “If I duel them and die, I won’t be able to kill you, and then I would break my word. Surely you know me better than that.”
“Of course,” N’lahr said.
Ortok shook his head. “I will never understand why you make simple things so complicated.”
N’lahr motioned the others after him and then headed into the hallway. Gyldara came last, closing the door behind them as Tretton reached N’lahr’s side and stared at him.
“That agreement won’t protect us,” Tretton said. “You can’t truly predict what he’s going to do.”
N’lahr spoke. “You traveled with him. You know he’ll never break his word.”
Tretton frowned. “He’ll hold to the letter of his understanding, but we don’t fully understand the rules he lives by and he really doesn’t understand ours, and someone’s going to be hurt. Probably not you. An alten or some squire or some poor soldier who’s been taught that kobalin are the enemy.”
He had a point, and Elenai looked to N’lahr to see how he’d react.
“He’s a tremendous asset, Tretton. He’s like having another alten serving with us.”
Tretton stiffened and his breath came in a great sniff. “You compare the refined discipline of an alten to a chaotic kobalin?!”
“He has the power of an alten,” N’lahr said. “Stop looking for problems. You know what I meant. The Naor are marching on Alantris and we need all the help we can get. Kobalin help included.”
Tretton clearly did not like the sound of that. “I’m aware of the Naor threat. But keeping company with a kobalin is a dangerous policy.”
“We’ve little spare time, and almost none for pointless debate. Are we going to have a problem, Tretton?”
Tretton eyed him steadily. The oldest alten still in service, he was the product of a different time. Like Asrahn had been, his manner was formal, but unlike Asrahn he wasn’t obviously convivial even with his colleagues. Cordial was as close as he ever seemed, although there was clearly depth of feeling in him, judging by the way he’d reacted to Decrin’s death. And during Elenai’s second year as a squire, she’d heard a rumor he’d gotten publicly, scandalously drunk with Alten Enada on one of her rare visits to Darassus, singing bawdy songs with her while propped up against an old fountain on the main esplanade.
But he customarily held himself apart, as though he were wary of forming close connections. Elenai supposed that was reasonable, given that everyone Tretton had begun service with was dead or retired. And most of those retired ones were likely dead as well.
It could be, though, that Tretton was aloof because that was his nature. The preeminent scout and tracker among the Altenerai, he was as famed for his iron will as his implacable spirit. His talent in the wilderness was so great it bordered upon magical. Having heard that he could hold a post without moving for days, Elenai wondered if he might be planning that now.
After the slightest nod of acknowledgment to his commander, Tretton responded. “I asked too few questions of Denaven. I deferred to his rank even when I disagreed with his judgment.”
“Does that mean you don’t intend to defer to my rank?” N’lahr, too, sounded calm. Stern, but calm.
“I intend to question. Once, you had Asrahn and Kalandra and Aradel to counsel you. And Kyrkenall, I suppose.” There was a dismissive note that Elenai didn’t feel was entirely fair.
Tretton continued. “Those three aren’t with us, and all the rest of these lack wisdom, no matter their skill and worth.” The older man didn’t look at either Gyldara or herself, nor did he seem troubled about speaking of them as though they weren’t present. “Having learned from previous errors, I intend to question you.”
“Noted,” N’lahr said. “I’m still the same man I was.”
“So it would appear. But it’s not the same world.”
“Also noted.” And with that, the moment between them seemed resolved. At least for now. Tretton didn’t object to the subject change when N’lahr asked Gyldara if she knew where Ortok should sleep and which squire might be best suited for assisting him there. They stopped at the duty desk to assign the younger alten’s recommendation, then the commander sent another to fetch Kyrkenall before leading the way to the small square room he’d adopted for his office.
At N’lahr’s gesture they took to the benches, Gyldara and Elenai choosing the one on the wall facing N’lahr’s desk, and Tretton selecting the one opposite the door to the courtyard. Elenai could see where N’lahr had exercised this morning, just visible through the door’s hazy glass window.
“What about Alten Lasren, sir?” Gyldara asked.
“Let him rest,” N’lahr said. “I’ll have work for him soon enough.”
Lasren had been wounded by Kyrkenall even before the great battle, only after which it had been apparent he’d been in far more pain than he’d let on. The healers had seen to him, but he’d likely need time to recover.
N’lahr took his chair behind the desk and looked over to Gyldara. “What did you learn from the Naor prisoners?”
Each of them turned to look at her, a far from objectionable thing. All of the Altenerai were healthy and well-formed, but Gyldara in particular was a lovely woman, with flawless skin, bright eyes, and fine features. Her golden hair shone with sunlight pouring through the window in the courtyard door.
“I spoke with seven ranked prisoners at length and separately,” she said. “I kept a weaver squire on hand to monitor surface thoughts. In summary, the Naor have developed a new weapon.” She then spoke quickly, describing terrible creatures that were something like their old allies, the ko’aye, feathered reptiles. Except that these beasts were far larger and had the power to tear down city walls. “That’s why the Naor last night didn’t have siege engines,” she said. “These ‘dragons,’ as they call them, were supposed to fly to Vedessus just as soon as they smashed the walls of Alantris. Praise the gods they did not.”
Elenai tried to imitate the solemn manner of her older companions, who might have been alarmed by the news but revealed only mild concern.
“Aradel must have found a way to stop them,” Tretton suggested.
“Chargan claimed he’d already taken Alantris,” Elenai remembered suddenly. The mage’s image in blood had said as much last night.
N’lahr, it seemed, hadn’t forgotten at all, for his nod was slow. “How many dragons do the Naor have?”
“The officers weren’t sure, but I got the sense they were limited in number. Apparently they’re hard to get and hard to control. They’re dangerous to groupings of defenders, but would have trouble picking out individuals to attack. And, like ko’aye, they put themselves at risk if they fly low enough to assault us.”
Gyldara continued, her voice growing strained. Probably she’d put hours into her questioning before rolling into bed, only to rise in time to report. “I confirmed that Chargan, the weaver who spoke to us last night, is one of Mazakan’s grandchildren. He’s reputed to be a very capable magic worker. But I suppose that was obvious.”
It had been fairly so, since the man had apparently sent his image to talk to them from hundreds of miles away.
“I’ve also confirmed he’s part of a final force meant to rendezvous with the one already in Alantris,” Gyldara continued. “Mazakan’s plan was to hold both Alantris and Vedessus and then advance with the bulk of all three armies for Darassus.”
“Just like Chargan boasted last night,” Elenai said. “But if he’s such a powerful sorcerer, why is he in the rear? Shouldn’t they have had him with either of the first two armies? To make their success more likely?”
“Maybe they meant to protect him,” Gyldara suggested. “Although I suppose they could have placed him to the rear of either of the besieging armies, and kept him safe that way.”
“Certainly,” Tretton agreed. “Elenai’s question stands.”
“I can think of two possible reasons,” N’lahr said. “First, magic workers are accorded honor, but still have lesser status than Naor warriors. He probably wouldn’t have been allowed to lead an army against one of our cities—that would have been left to someone of higher status—but as a scion of Mazakan he might be given some authority over others for specific lesser tasks. Second, someone has to be responsible for recruiting or subduing these dragons. That may be Chargan, in which case he’d remain behind to collect more for the assault on Darassus. How far out is his army?”
“He’s due to reach Alantris about a week from now. His younger brother’s troops were to reach it at about the same time these Naor arrived at Vedessus. In all likelihood they’re already at the walls. Or through them,” Gyldara finished grimly.
N’lahr paused for only a moment. “I want to move out tomorrow. If the Naor are in the city, we’ll find a way to root them out. And if they’re not yet there, we’ll have to defeat them before Chargan turns up with his group.” He was starting to brief them about the troops the governor was turning over to them when someone rapped on the hallway door. “Enter,” N’lahr ordered.
Elenai fully expected Kyrkenall to come through, and then, upon seeing a third ranker poke in her head, realized the alten probably wouldn’t have bothered knocking.
The squire stepped inside and saluted. The younger woman looked more uncomfortable than she should be, even accounting for the fact she stood before four Altenerai.
“At ease, Squire,” N’lahr said. “Report.”
“Kyrkenall is in the stables, sir. He said that…” She paused minutely. “That he doesn’t have time for a meeting right now.”
N’lahr stood.
“Did he say anything else?” Elenai asked.
“Not … Yes, but…”
“But not that bears repeating,” N’lahr finished. “All right.” He turned to Tretton and Gyldara. “Get started organizing and cataloguing the supplies we need. It’s a tall order to get it all ready in the time we have but I know you can do it. The Naor had a lot of smoked meat we can use. And Gyldara, good work.” He caught Elenai’s eye while striding to the door. “Come with me.”
She followed him out of the room, wondering at his speed until he explained.
“Kyrkenall’s heading out to look for Kalandra.”
“He wouldn’t do that—not without permission,” Elenai said.
He shot her a look. “That’s why he didn’t ask for any.”
“But that’s a terrible idea,” Elenai objected. “There’s too much going on. And what about the storms in the shifts? And how remote the last little fragment was—he needs to travel with a weaver. Isn’t he thinking about any of that?”
“Of course not. Because he doesn’t want to.”
They pushed their way into the outer courtyard. There were target markers stored to the left of the doorway they exited, and stables built into the wall to right and left. Kyrkenall was leading a horse quickly toward the thick double gate. Lyria, his sturdy dun, was saddled.
He didn’t look especially happy about their arrival, but paused and faced them. He was fully dressed for an expedition, complete with travel kit and extra bundles of arrows. His great black bow was stored in Lyria’s saddle holster.
“You can’t look for her right now,” N’lahr said as he strode forward.
“I didn’t ask.”
“Your horse is even more exhausted than you are,” the commander pointed out, which was a line of attack Elenai hadn’t considered. “And you’re bad enough. The bags under your eyes have bags. You’re going to get yourself killed.”
Kyrkenall frowned at that and absently scratched the side of Lyria’s nose. She snorted. “I won’t press hard until we reach the border.”
“I know you want to find her. I want to find her. But we made that mistake before and we barely got here in time to save Vedessus. Naor have already marched on Alantris. They’ve probably got it surrounded.”
“Then coax up another miracle. You don’t need me. You’ve got more Altenerai now. I hear Tretton’s back, too. And the Kaneshi cavalry’s probably on its way as well.”
Elenai had only learned at breakfast that the governor had sent word to the nearby realms as soon as the Naor had been spotted in Arappa.
“I’m glad you’re keeping well informed. Did you hear about the dragons?”
“‘Dragons’?”
“Naor secret weapons. Great winged beasts, larger than ko’aye, that can knock down walls with ease. They’ve likely already been used against Alantris. And they’re overdue here.”
Kyrkenall’s brow furrowed. That was apparently a bit of news he hadn’t learned.
“We need to counter these dragons with aerial forces of our own. I need you to make peace with the ko’aye.”
Elenai inwardly shook her head, amazed both that N’lahr had already devised a strategy to counter the Naor “weapons” and that he’d struck on an argument to intrigue Kyrkenall, maybe into changing his mind. The commander could just order him to stay, but that didn’t seem to be how it worked between them. Unfortunately, the alliance with the winged lizards had been broken years before, and from what Elenai had learned, repairing it would be no simple matter. Did he really expect Kyrkenall to serve as diplomat?
Kyrkenall let out a dry barking laugh. “The queen royally pissed them off. I told you that. When the Naor attacked their holdings, she didn’t help them like they’d helped us. They were driven from their own hunting grounds and we didn’t lift a finger. I would have—if I’d known.”
Probably when all that had happened he’d been out in the wilds on his long, fruitless search for Kalandra.
“We’ll have to make amends,” N’lahr said
“How would I even start?”
“Do we know where the ko’aye went?” Elenai asked.
“Deep into kobalin lands, in the shifts, where I’m sure the hazards are innumerable and the hunting is thin,” Kyrkenall answered. “Toward the northeastern tribes there are some fair-sized fragments.”
“Which is why Ortok will show the way, and act as negotiator with any kobalin.” N’lahr looked hard at his friend. “And you’ll negotiate with the ko’aye.”
The archer shook his head. “You’re out of your mind this time, N’lahr. No, I’m going after Kalandra.”
N’lahr didn’t say anything for a very, very long time, and the dark-eyed archer looked back and forth between him and Elenai. “Aren’t you going to tell me I can’t go?”
Still the moment stretched on. N’lahr stood motionless.
“N’lahr?” Kyrkenall asked.
Finally the commander responded. “I’m going to ask you who’s better to send,” he said simply.
“Well, there’s Aradel.”
“I mean right here. I’m sure she’s quite busy in Alantris. And you know that.”
Kyrkenall growled. “Damnit to the darkest pits, N’lahr … you think we’re going to be able to talk to the ko’aye?! They’ll tear apart any one of us that gets close.”
“Gyldara, Lasren, and Elenai have never met them. Tretton will never be in the air. And I can’t go. You’ve flown with more than one of them. They like you.”
“Liked.”
“You’re all I have, Kyrkenall. If Kalandra’s survived this long by herself, she’ll manage a little longer.”
Kyrkenall cursed colorfully, then sighed in profound disgust. “Why do you always have to be right?”
N’lahr smiled sadly at his friend and turned to Elenai. “I want you to go with him and Ortok. They need a weaver if the storms get bad.”
She should have expected that, because it’s an argument she had made a moment earlier. She swallowed. “Yes, Commander. How soon do we leave?”
“Tomorrow morning. Right now I want you to go spend time with your family, as you promised. I’m sorry,” he added with quiet sincerity, “that it can’t be longer.”
“They’ll understand.”
Kyrkenall’s voice was low, resigned. “What do you want me to offer them in exchange for joining us?”
“Find out what they want, but let them know that I have returned, and that I will honor my promise. I will help them recover their homeland. We should have bound all the Altenerai to that oath.”
Now that Elenai better understood the history, she frowned at the thought of the queen’s slippery reasoning. She had justified the annulment of the agreement with the ko’aye in part by saying that it was only N’lahr who’d pledged to aid them, something a dead man couldn’t do.
N’lahr was thinking along similar lines. “This time I hope you and Elenai and the others will join me.”
“Happily,” Kyrkenall said fiercely. “But what if they won’t trust us again?”
“The queen kept me from keeping that word, but she won’t be able to stop all of us. Tell them that. Even if they’re not interested, they should know the Naor are out in force and away from their own holdings. It might be the ideal time for the ko’aye to retake their ancestral lands. If they don’t join us, they can still weaken the Naor in that fight. But they are our friends, and they were our allies. Find a way to remind them.”
Kyrkenall looked doubtful.
“How are you going to convince Ortok to guide us?” Elenai asked.
“He said he wanted an army. Maybe he can find one out there to lead.”
“And bring back? You want an army of kobalin on our lands, too?” Kyrkenall asked.
“As I told Tretton, we need all the help we can get. Now give Lyria and yourself a little longer to rest. Tomorrow morning is soon enough.”
Frowning, Kyrkenall turned and clicked his tongue, and Lyria plodded after him toward the stables.
“I expected it would be harder than that,” Elenai said softly.
N’lahr smiled a little. “You need to get on your way, and I need to speak with Ortok.”
She was briefly confused, thinking N’lahr was changing his mind and ordering her into service now. “And you should probably change out of your uniform,” he continued. “I’m sure they’ll want to see you in it, but it will feel a little more like home if you’re not in your khalat.”
Her khalat. It still felt strange to think of it in a possessive way. “What about … that matter you wanted to ask me about? The hearthstones?”
“It will keep. We’ll talk when you get back.”
She started to object that she wasn’t actually that hungry, not after the breakfast, then nodded her agreement. “I’ll check in this evening.”
“You don’t need to hurry. Our lives will be nothing but hurry after today.”
Clearly he was wasn’t slowing down, and she wondered briefly if she should stay to help him more, but she merely nodded again, wondering where she’d find a change of clothes. She’d fled Darassus with nothing but the garments she was wearing.
Fortunately, Gyldara had a spare blouse, and some squires offered a selection of leggings that fit fairly well. She felt almost naked without the khalat and sword, but once she was a few blocks away from the barracks she realized that she was free—no longer was she instantly recognizable, and people went about their day without halting their work to stare, congratulate, or thank her.
This anonymity proved so pleasant that she was almost saddened as she turned down the side street of the main square and drew in sight of home.
It wasn’t an impressive a structure from the front, typical of all those on this street. Within though, she knew it was spacious, with a wide courtyard that her father found ideal for entertaining—after-parties for cast members, business meetings, and sometimes rehearsals were held there. All this activity to grow his theater and provide for his daughters, she’d realized later, might also have helped drown the silence in his wife’s absence.
When last Elenai had visited three years ago, she’d hesitated, because it no longer felt quite like her home, but then opened the door without knocking. Today she raised her hand to the fading red wood, and rapped it.
From within came the sound of laughter and talking. It seemed that no one had heard, and she was lifting her fist to knock again when she heard the distinctive tread of footsteps. The door opened before her.
Elenai didn’t recognize the young woman who brightened at the sight of her. She was of average height, dark-skinned, with curling black hair bejeweled.
“Oh! Elenai. I’m Ahzelia. Caslia’s girlfriend,” she said quickly, seeing no sign of recognition in Elenai’s eyes. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you.” Belatedly, the woman stepped to one side and gestured for her to enter. “Please, come in, it’s your house.”
“Thank you.” Elenai stepped over the threshold and onto a new green rug stretching down the entry hall. She waited politely while Ahzelia closed the door, feeling out of place.
“Your sister’s told me so much about you,” Ahzelia went on. “She’s always looked up to you.”
“Has she?” Elenai found that declaration implausible. She’d always wanted a close relationship with Caslia and seldom had one, and certainly she’d never seen much evidence that Caslia wanted to emulate her.
Ahzelia laughed in a self-conscious way. “She told me how determined you always were. She said you took a target and a spear into the courtyard and practiced every morning for hours.”
“She hated that,” Elenai said, remembering Caslia shouting down from the balcony to stop the clatter.
They moved out of the entry hall and into the central living space fronting the courtyard. Two of her three aunts and their husbands were placing napkins and utensils on a long table while some of her younger cousins chased a pair of brown spotted puppies. It was her grandmother who saw her first, turning with pitcher in hand and then flinging water from it as she threw open her arms. “Elenai!”
All those fears about feeling apart from things evaporated in the explosion of cheerful greetings. Her grandmother’s embrace was exactly as she’d remembered: strong, no matter her protests that she was growing “feeble in her old age.” Her grandfather had aged more obviously. There was little left of his hair but fringes along the side. His smile was warm as ever, though, and he still smelled of wood and resin from his carpentry shop. Her aunts complained, as they had before, that she was too thin, but added this time that she needed sleep.
“She’ll have to stay a while with us,” bosomy Zianna cried, “and we’ll fatten her back up! Remember what a chubby toddler she was?”
Everyone parted for her “uncle” Crenahr, waiting politely with a huge grin. Her mother’s cousin had been a steadfast if somewhat remote presence all of her life. At first she’d thought him stern, only realizing as she matured that he’d always been painfully shy.
She opened her arms and they embraced.
“It’s so good to see you,” he said, then, beaming, stepped back to take the hand of a small woman with a gap-toothed smile cradling an infant somehow sleeping through all the ruckus. “This is my wife, Mahra.”
Of course—she’d received his letter announcing the date, astonished the old bachelor would settle so late in life. She’d always thought of him married to his job, overseeing the windmill-powered pumps that brought water from the deep aquifers below the city.
“And our son,” the graying man said proudly, “Reynahn.”
She teared up at that, and hugged him once more, for Crenahr had honored Elenai’s mother by choosing the male form of her name.
There then came a blizzard of greetings from younger cousins, all far taller than she recalled. Her father was the oldest of five children, making her the eldest of her generation in that family. She scarcely recognized some of her cousins, or they her, and the youngest goggled at her.
And then her pretty aunt Irehna, only four years her senior and something like an older sister, took her by the hand out into the courtyard where her father and uncle were putting finishing touches on a slew of baked goods. A second table was arranged out here, in the sunlight, and various of her father’s friends were either helping set up or standing in little groups talking. These shouted her name and raised hands in greeting.
Her father looked up from his work over the stove, beamed at her, turned his utensils over to a handsome, graying brunette Elenai didn’t recognize, and came toward her with open arms.
Jenahl Dartaan still had a thick shock of black hair, still threaded naturally—though it looked theatric—with strands of silver. He had a square, open face lined with laugh and care. His embrace was even tighter than it had been last night.
“By the gods it’s good to see you.” He held her close and then thrust her apart, looking hard at her while he gripped her shoulders. “Last night you looked a little like a frightened wild animal.”
She’d felt like one. She and the other warriors had hastily cleaned up, but the cheering throngs had been too reminiscent of the crowding Naor, eager for her blood, and she’d been tense even with those she loved. Her father must have noted a similar look now, for he turned and used his penetrating director’s voice: “Give her some room! Don’t smother, for goodness sake!”
They laughed a little and faded back, and then her father steered her past a rack of trout suspended over coals, and brought her to the handsome brunette woman overseeing some blue and green peppers split open on searing hot rocks.
The stranger was waiting with an expectant smile, and Elenai’s father put his hand to the woman’s arm while still touching Elenai, as if being in contact with both somehow brought them closer.
“Elenai, I want to introduce you to my … to someone I’ve been seeing. This is Kelindra.”
“It’s such a delight to finally meet you,” the woman said.
Surprised both by the woman’s name and by what was apparently an important relationship she’d heard nothing about, Elenai hesitated too long. After the awkward silence she strove to explain her reaction. “I’m sorry—one of my friends is in love with a woman named Kalandra, and it caught me off guard.” Realizing that sounded foolish because most people had heard of Alten Kalandra, she added: “I mean, Alten Kalandra. My friend, Kyrkenall, the alten, is desperate to find her … it’s a similar name. Of course, different people can have the same name, or similar ones…” She stuck her hand out as if to ward away the inane babbling that probably sounded like name dropping. “I’m so happy to meet you.”
Kelindra clasped arms with her cautiously, still seemingly uncertain what to make of her. Elenai didn’t blame her. She’d sounded ridiculous.
Her father laughed and squeezed her shoulders from behind. “I’ve managed to render my daughter speechless. I’m sorry, my dear. I didn’t mean to surprise you.”
“No, it’s fine.” Elenai looked back to smile at him, and then turned her head to share it with Kelindra. “I’m happy for you. Did you meet in the theater?”
“I’m an old friend of Crenahr’s,” the woman said. “He introduced us. I’m afraid I’ve dreamed of your father from afar for ages.”
“What do you think of that?” her father said with a laugh, and a shoulder pat.
Elenai managed to sound almost normal as she turned to greet her father’s brother, and then worked her way through her father’s friends, wondering the while where her sister was.
This was all made clear when Caslia turned up with two more cousins, each carrying baskets of fresh baked bread from a nearby bakery.
What a difference three years had made. No longer was her sister hunched defensively. Now she held her head high, even if that meant she was a handspan taller than nearly everyone. Once gawky and stork-like, Caslia had filled out a little, but more importantly, moved with assurance. If not classically pretty, she radiated charm and confidence that was attractive in itself, something Elenai hadn’t noted during their brief conversation the night before. But then she’d been a little overwhelmed by the reception and distracted by the crowd.
Once the food was ready, her father clapped his hands and called for attention, then hopped up on a bench with the dexterity of a younger man. His voice, often deployed on the stage, had no trouble reaching everyone in the courtyard and living areas beyond. He commanded everyone to fill their cups, and once this was done, lifted his goblet.
“Now I know all of you are almost as eager as I am to throw yourselves at this food.”
Elenai felt a little pang of regret, for she was still mostly full from the governor’s breakfast.
“So I want to say a few words before they’re drowned out by the babbles and mastication!”
This elicited a few chuckles.
“The last time I saw my eldest daughter, she was a quiet squire newly risen to the third rank. She never said it to me, but I knew she worried whether or not she had the mettle to keep on rising. I knew. I think most of us always knew. Now she’s returned to us, not just an alten with a field commission, but as one of the saviors of our very own city. My dear, I am so proud of you, and only wish your mother could be here to see you now!”
“Hear, hear!” a male voice at the rear echoed.
Elenai felt tears welling and managed not to cry. Nor did her father, though she saw him struggling. “Welcome home, Elenai. We are all grateful for your service and your presence in our lives. Here’s to your health, and to the Altenerai! Long may you both prosper!”
He raised his goblet, and the answering chorus of relatives and guests cried, “To your health, and to the Altenerai!”
She drank, feeling her face flush a little at all the attention.
“Now,” her father said, “let’s get to the eating!”
With that, the uncomfortable moments were mostly over. The food was as excellent as ever, and family stories and old jokes and the mundane trials of daily life were exchanged around, about, and with her. The courtyard felt almost like home, and at least familiar. The affection was real, and not the mindless adulation she’d been seeing in the eyes of the squires.
Over the course of the afternoon, she fielded occasional questions about the battle, and the Naor, and what she thought would happen next. Her answers downplayed the violence and played up the hope. Younger children wanted to see her ring light, and ask about the bizarre magical storms she’d witnessed in the deep shifts, and hear the tale of Kyrkenall vanquishing the kobalin Vorn. She followed that up with tidbits about steadfast Ortok and his friendship with N’lahr.
More than a half-dozen children of relatives and friends were gathered at this point, in a half circle before the old wooden chair she’d taken in the corner. Her aunt Irehna had wandered up to listen. “So what’s N’lahr really like?” she asked.
Elenai saw an amused glint in her aunt’s dark eyes, and remembered in a flash how she’d once confided her interest in the great swordsman to Irehna. That was mortifying.
“Did he really come back from the dead?” a little redheaded boy asked. She’d lost track of who he was, apart from being the son of one of the theater hands.
“He wasn’t really dead,” she said. “He was trapped in a huge crystal and sealed in a tower. Kyrkenall and I rode nearly to the world’s end to free him.”
That pronouncement was absorbed with wide-eyed wonder.
“Children,” Irehna said as she stepped carefully through them, “I’m going to borrow Alten Elenai for a little while myself.”
There were a few disappointed sighs as Irehna dragged Elenai up by the hand and headed for the stairs. She’d slid off her sandals earlier, as was Irehna’s habit, and padded barefoot up the steps to the balcony ringing the courtyard.
She managed to be showy even in bright loose leggings and off-shoulder blouse, for she was wide hipped and small waisted, a woman secure with her own appearance so that she was beautiful however dressed. She sat down in the shadow of the awning near Elenai’s old room, her legs hanging out through the gaps in the slats supporting the balcony rail, and passed over a wine bottle as Elenai sat. Her smile was mischievous. “So I finally have you to myself for a little while,” she said.
Elenai drank deep. All that talking had been thirsty work.
“How are you, really?” Irehna asked.
“I’m not sure, really,” Elenai confessed. “I was afraid I wouldn’t belong anymore. But it’s still home, even if it feels different.”
Irehna brushed back her mane of curling dark hair, her eyes fixed upon Elenai. “Is that because you’ve grown up, or because of what you’ve seen and done?”
“A little of both. I mean, I think I’ve grown up because of some of the things I’ve seen and done.”
Irehna took another pull and, at Elenai’s demur refusal, sat the bottle between them. “Remember when we used to sit here in the evenings?” she asked. “I had such a crush on that actor Oramahn. What was that play?”
Elenai laughed, remembering how her aunt had worked so hard to get the young man’s attention. But Oramahn had always remained politely distant. “The Rise of Myralon.”
“That’s the one! Do you know, he came by the furniture store last year to look me up. He’d decided the stage wasn’t for him, and does tile work or something.”
“What did he want? Was he still handsome?”
“Oh yes. He apologized for avoiding me those years ago. Here I’d been thinking he was only interested in men. But he said he hadn’t wanted to date the director’s sister!”
“That wouldn’t have stopped most.”
She smiled. “Some use it as an introduction.”
“So did you get together with him?”
“No. He’s married. And he’s a little dull, so it’s all for the best. Now tell me truly—you used to dream about N’lahr. How has that worked out?”
She should have known her aunt would come back around to that, but she was still surprised. “Oh. There’s nothing going on. He’s my commander.”
Irehna might actually have decided upon restraint, for her next question wasn’t teasing. “Is he really as humorless as everyone says?”
“No. I mean, he’s direct, but he’s … he’s really a very nice man, and a sad one. And I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone as intelligent. He’s always focused clearly on what he needs for the objective, but he’s also paying keen attention to what’s happening moment to moment. He’s planning ahead but not missing anything at the same time. I don’t know how he does it.”
“And what about Kyrkenall?” Irehna asked. “What’s he like?”
Despite herself, Elenai flushed a little, and Irehna laughed.
Elenai quickly held up a palm. “There’s nothing like that between us, either,” she said.
“But you wish there was?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “By the gods but he’s a beautiful one.”
“I could introduce you,” Elenai said. She rather thought Kyrkenall would enjoy meeting Irehna. Probably most men would, and many women. “But he’s in love with Kalandra, and she’s missing.”
“I’d love to help him try to forget her,” Irehna jested.
“He’s a handful,” Elenai cautioned.
“I like a handful,” Irehna said with a laugh, then reached out and patted Elenai’s wrist. “But I think my niece has first claim.”
Elenai shook her head, for she had no claim upon Kyrkenall. And she didn’t think she’d want to claim him. How might she convey her conflicted feelings about the brave, reckless, cunning man, haunted and deeply loyal and a little mad? Maybe he couldn’t really belong to anyone, which was why it might be best that he’d given his heart to someone who wasn’t really there.
Her aunt recognized her change in mood and wisely shifted from talk of relationships. “What’s next for you? There are rumors the Altenerai have to move out soon. People say Alantris may be under attack.”
It certainly hadn’t taken long for the news to spread. “They are. And a lot of the Vedessi Guard is leaving with them.”
Irehna was no fool, and read between the lines. “But you’re not?”
“I’ve another mission.”
“A secret mission?”
“It’s secret so long as I don’t tell anyone.”
Irehna chuckled. “Is Kyrkenall going with you? Ho ho! I see from that blush he is!”
“It’s not like that,” Elenai said, wondering why her body was reacting like this to her aunt’s prodding. Perhaps knowing Irehna had always been a creature of strong sexual appetites, spending time beside her put her in mind of her own.
“If your relationship ends up being less like you think and more like you wonder about, make sure you’ve the proper protections.”
“Always,” Elenai said, a little aghast she should be talking about such things, much less considering the possibility of them happening on an urgent mission into the deeps. With a kobalin nearby, no less. She worked to change the subject before it grew more embarrassing. “Tell me about father. Is it a good match?”
Irehna frowned a little. “He seems very happy.”
“You don’t like her?”
Irehna sighed. “She’s nice enough. She wants to change things around the house, though, for no real reason. She’s changing the way he dresses, too. Making him over a little. But maybe it was time for a new wardrobe,” Irehna admitted. “Every woman wants to put a little bit of a stamp upon her man, I suppose. But she seems just a little fussy. He’s fine with it, though.”
“And what do you think of my sister’s match?”
“Oh, they’re young still, but they’re good for each other. Ahzelia has a pretty singing voice. And she just dotes on Caslia. But then Caslia’s really blossoming now. Her last play was something to see. She based it on an unfinished play your mother had written.”
“I didn’t know,” Elenai said. Her mother, a talented actor and gifted singer, had been dabbling with playwriting in the years before her death. Her sister had been determined to follow in her absent mother’s footsteps from a very young age, but Elenai hadn’t known she’d worked on anything their mother had written. Much less that any of Caslia’s plays were more than trial pieces.
“It debuted two weeks ago,” Irehna said. “It’s this dreamy swashbuckling fantasy with moments of high humor and mixed identities and love. It was all anyone was talking about until, well, the Naor turned up.”
Elenai looked down across the crowd and saw her sister in the midst of a group of laughing people, the center of attention as she shared a story.
“No wonder she looks so confident.”
“She has a lot of talent for someone so young. But she grew up surrounded by wonderful stories, so any kind of natural knack was going to get fertile ground.”
That made sense. She was happy for her sister, and a little sad, too, for the gulf that had long been between them. “Her girlfriend says Caslia’s told her all about me.”
“You sound skeptical.”
“We never really got along.”
“You were sort of an impossible older sister, though, weren’t you? Good at everything and pretty and successful?”
“That’s not how I remember it.” She recalled years of frustration and struggle.
“That’s because you were constantly striving to better yourself. Caslia was painfully jealous.”
“It hadn’t felt like jealousy. I think ‘hateful’ is the word you’re looking for. You can only hear ‘I wish you were dead instead of Mom’ so many times before you start to think she might really mean it. I know she loved me, sometimes, but I never got the sense she liked me.”
Irehna nudged her. “Think how she felt. Always younger and worse at everything than her pretty, accomplished sister, who had five years more experience. And she was competing with you for the attention of a distracted, grieving father. I know Jenahl’s a good man, and he tried, but he can be absent even when he’s there. And he missed your mother so terribly. He built her up so much your sister practically worshiped her memory. It’s no wonder she set herself up to follow in her footsteps, is it?”
“It sounds like she’s done it. I guess she gets the love of theater naturally.”
“Probably so.” She nudged Elenai again. “I don’t know how to explain you; though your father’s strong for his size, he’s no athlete. I guess you’re determined.”
“I’m just stubborn. And maybe too stupid to give up.”
“I don’t think there’s anything stupid about you, Elenai. I never have. I’m very, very proud of you.”
“Thank you.”
Irehna then asked a question outside her usual interests, and it sounded odd to Elenai’s ears, perhaps because she was being consulted as an expert, not a relative. “Do you think you can save Alantris?”
“I think it’s going to be difficult. The Naor have brought another large army.”
Irehna grew grave. “Do you think the Naor are coming back here?”
She shook her head. “Vedessus is safe for now, and probably for a good long while. But we might be in for another long war. And there’s more to it than that…” She fell silent, wondering how much she should say about the queen and the conspiracy, even here, within her own home and to one of her very favorite relatives. In the end, she decided to provide more detail. Word was going to go out to the populace one way or another, and it would be better if some of it was the truth. “The queen’s the one who betrayed N’lahr,” she said finally. “She knew he was alive, locked him away, and spread the lie that he was dead.”
Irehna’s elegant eyebrows rose in astonishment. “Why?”
“She’s completely caught up in magical studies,” Elenai said. “And she traded him for more magical secrets. Dark ones, we think.” That was a fair enough summary of what they guessed was happening, even if it left out the specificity of the hearthstones. “She needs to be brought up on charges. But that’s going to be kind of hard to do right now with an invasion under way. Queen Leonara sent people to try and kill Kyrkenall and me, once we found out about N’lahr. And we’re worried about what she’s going to do now that N’lahr’s back and exposing her misdeeds.”
Irehna could only stare. “By the grace of Elahn,” she said. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
She shrugged. “It’s not something you mention in casual conversation, is it?”
“What are you going to do about it?” Irehna asked in growing alarm.
“N’lahr presented testimony to the governor this morning. We’ll try to let the governors handle it. Meanwhile, we have to find a way to win the war.”
“Hail, Alten Elenai,” Irehna said quietly, and reached for the bottle. She raised it in salute. “And here all I was asking about was whether you were sleeping with any Altenerai. You’re really in the thick of it, aren’t you? Like a hero from legend.”
Elenai snorted.
Irehna drank. “I won’t be surprised if your sister ends up writing a play about you.”
“Gods,” Elenai said. “I don’t even want to think about that.”
And then her aunt spoke with surprising insight. “You just want to be you, for a little while, don’t you? Before you have to run off and play soldier some more.”
Elenai answered her softly. “I’m kind of afraid that I’ve become a soldier, and I had to run off and play Elenai.”
Her aunt put her arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “You still seem like Elenai to me. Just sadder, and wiser. And a lot more dangerous, apparently.”
“And you certainly seem like Irehna. Beautiful and flirty and a little dangerous yourself. Are you still breaking hearts? Is there anyone important in your life?”
Irehna laughed. “I opened my own little shop across the street that specializes in more high-end work. Lots of ornamental railings and decorative wall hangings and that sort of thing. Between that and arranging the timber shipments, I’ve been very busy.”
“But not too busy?”
Irehna smiled, pleased with herself. “There’s a certain broad-shouldered potter who’s been taking up some of my time,” she admitted. “He’s a little intense. And very brooding.”
“That sounds like nearly every man I serve with,” Elenai said. “I’d be mad to get involved with any of them.”
“There’s involved, and there’s involved. But you be careful,” she admonished, as though she might instill caution when she herself practiced so little.
Late that afternoon, as Elenai made farewells to all, she reflected on Irehna’s admonition and how it dovetailed with that of her father’s and her sister’s. Nearly everyone had told her to be careful. She hadn’t dared tell them a whole host of things she’d been involved in over the last month. It wasn’t that she hadn’t attempted to act with care, but that dangerous things were occurring to her with astonishing frequency, and no amount of care would shield her from experiencing them. Skill and planning could compensate, but a careful person wouldn’t be readying to ride off into the shifts with Kyrkenall the Eyeless and a kobalin lord sworn to slay the commander of the Altenerai.
There had been no point in trying to explain or discuss any of that. They wouldn’t have truly understood.
Her visit hadn’t been easy, but she knew a sense of loss as she passed through the streets on the way to the barracks. People hurried back and forth from the markets with last minute purchases for supper, and there was something about their bustle different from that she’d seen after the city woke. She realized that word had spread that the Vedessi Guard was leaving. The city’s unease was palpable, though whether it was because they feared for their departing warriors or for their own welfare with them gone, she couldn’t say.
Once within the barracks, she bypassed a line of squires queuing up to eat, asked N’lahr’s whereabouts, and found him in his office.
He opened the door and gestured for her to enter. “How was your visit?”
She took the bench across from him and waited while he retook the chair. A square of light thrown from the window illuminated his desk and the paper, inkwell, pen, and blotter awaiting his return.
“It was good,” she said.
“Did you see both sides of your family, or only the one?”
“Both,” Elenai said. “One side is rather small. The Naor wiped out my maternal grandparents’ village,” she explained. “While my mother was visiting.”
“I’m sorry.”
She was surprised she could speak of it so plainly. “One of my mother’s cousins survived because he happened to be visiting a library in Vedessus. And she died because she happened to be visiting her parents.”
He nodded solemnly. It was enough. She knew his own background was even more dire—in a similar raid he’d lost most of both sides of his own family.
“He’s just gotten married, and has a small child, so I guess that side of the family’s a little larger now.” She wasn’t sure why she told him that, but his expression cleared a little. “How are things here?”
“Much to do and little time, as you’d expect. You could have stayed away longer.”
“It was time to leave,” she said. And that seemed explanation enough for him. “Now tell me about this hearthstone problem you’re having.”
N’lahr opened a lower desk drawer. From it he withdrew a pair of fragments and set them on the dark old wood. “My hearthstone.”
He didn’t have to say as much—Elenai recognized the two small halves. Seven years ago he’d sliced it in two with Irion and ended up encased in a crystalline prison.
Knowing that N’lahr never wasted words, she looked to him for an explanation.
Yet it was a while in coming. The commander was silent in thought for a long moment. “I can feel the thing when I’m away from it,” he said, with the air of someone admitting a minor infraction. As though he’d been caught filching desserts.
He’d asked for the pieces back as the celebration had wound down last night, and she’d obliged without question. “I assumed you’d wanted it for security reasons.”
“I wanted to test my ability to know its precise location in relation to me. Even over in the governor’s palace I could feel right where it was, down to a finger’s width. Is that what it’s like to be attuned with one?”
“Not entirely.” Her first instinct was to reassure him, for there was no missing his concern, muted though it was. But she didn’t want to mislead him, either. “Mine’s in my quarters. Give me a moment.” She paused to slip into the inner world and reached out with her senses, encountering his life force, the glow of Irion, the duller energy of the shattered hearthstone, the life forces of all those in the building, and after a time she latched on to the faint energies of the inactive hearthstone in her quarters. The moment she did so she felt that longing to open it that had so begun to worry her, so she resisted its pull.
With a breath of effort she let go of her magical sight and spoke to the commander. “Do you sense other things when you’re reaching for it?”
“I don’t reach for it. I just know. And I don’t sense anything else. Only the stones.”
She stepped up to the desk and held one of the pieces up to the square of light framed by the door’s window. Even in her grasp she barely felt its power. She knew from before that the shattered remnants held only a fraction of the energy of a fully formed hearthstone, but she considered it with her inner sight and confirmed her earlier impression.
“Do you sense a connection between it and me?” N’lahr asked.
“No. But your life force was enmeshed with this stone for years. I guess it’s not too surprising you have a connection to it.”
“It goes beyond detecting the thing,” he said with mild annoyance. “My sense of time is off. And I think it’s getting more obvious to others.”
At her hesitation, he continued. “Kyrkenall thought I was simply pausing too long during our chat this morning, didn’t he? It didn’t even seem a pause to me, until he started prodding. From his tone I gathered it wasn’t the first question. How long was I quiet?”
“A good long time,” Elenai admitted. She was growing more troubled about the symptoms and their possible dangers. “What about when you delayed during the breakfast, or held the one-legged stance so long this morning? Were those the same things?”
His blank expression changed to one of true unease. “I didn’t realize I’d done anything of the kind.”
Elenai wasn’t sure what to say. “Suppose that happens while you’re in the midst of a battle?”
“Yes.” Being N’lahr, he didn’t bother stating obvious worries.
“Does your sense of time ever seem to speed ahead?”
“No. But then that’s not what being imprisoned was about.”
“Maybe we should keep it farther away from you,” she suggested.
“Do you think that’s the answer?”
“I’m not sure.” She thought. “I might be able to tell more if I opened one. Unless you think that’s dangerous.”
“You tell me.”
She considered the possible dangers and decided they were slight. “I’d like to try it. I’m going to step out into the courtyard so I’m a little farther away from you, but so we can signal one another.”
He acquiesced with a nod and opened the door for her.
She walked over the old pavers and moved for the point farthest from the door, in the shadows of the second-story eaves. Once there, she labored to focus on what she had to do and not upon N’lahr’s well-being, but it was a challenge. What if N’lahr were to get worse and worse? What if he were on his way to becoming a permanent statue?
For that matter, though, who was to tell what would happen if she tinkered with a broken hearthstone? Slicing it open the first time had introduced a completely unforeseen and catastrophic result. Suppose just poking at it when the stone was damaged did the same? To her? Or would it act against the person it was apparently linked with and encase N’lahr again?
The more she thought about it, the more she realized she’d too quickly dismissed the dangers.
She had an errant thought that she ought to consult with someone who knew something more about hearthstones, instead of relying upon the limited knowledge of an amateur like herself. But while there were certainly more experienced mages in Vedessus, when it came to hearthstones she was the best resource N’lahr had. And that was a little surprising.
Opening a hearthstone had grown simpler and simpler, but this proved a challenge. She searched and searched for the flaw and got to thinking it might be on the other half. Rather than return and search that piece, though, she considered the dead center of the stone, usually unreachable, and touched it with a clockwise spiral of energy as she would when facing an actual opening.
The stone flickered to life in her hands and she felt the soothing brush of its power, dull though it was. When contrasted with the blazing heat of the activated hearthstones she was familiar with, this thing was but a coal lately removed from a dead fire. It retained only a hint of energy. It seemed uninclined to encase her in crystal, or to subdue N’lahr once more. She glanced over at the commander, peering with interest through the window and suddenly she was in his thoughts.
She had practiced a few linking exercises over the years, where two mages shared memories, but this was nothing like that. She was suddenly aware of everything he thought and felt.
He ruminated upon an old memory. A dust cloud billowed. His oft smiling, now wide-eyed father shouted to mind his sister and whirled from the horses and new plow to snatch a hoe. He, N’lahr, was pulling the little girl away from the seedsack and dragging her into the drain ditch, feeling her shake with each fresh scream from their mother or older sister. He pleaded with her to stay quiet, even when the screaming stopped and the hairy strangers grunted and cheered. He was filled not with fear, but impotent rage.
She didn’t know he’d sheltered a sister. N’lahr was famously the only survivor from his village.
She died of high cough in the refugee camp later that spring.
“You can hear my thoughts, too?” she asked, thinking it at the same time.
I can. The rage, she felt, had never fully left him.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “About your family.” She worked to set aside the deep grief and anger he’d shared, and looked down at the stone, seeking in vain for some sign of obvious connection between it and the commander. There was nothing visible in the outer world, much less glowing threads of energy in the inner.
Intrigued, Elenai shut the stone down, relieved when it cooperated with little effort. She walked back to N’lahr. He opened the door and eyed her, apparently waiting for her judgment, but she still wasn’t sure what she’d say. Finally, she began with the obvious. “This could be very dangerous in the wrong hands.”
He seemed unfazed. “How far do you think you can go with it?”
That question didn’t truly make any sense to her. “What?”
“How far do you think you can take it and still communicate with me?”
She answered honestly. “I have no idea. I don’t even know how it works.”
“Do you think the other stone needs to be near me for the trick to work properly?”
“I don’t know. But I’m not sure you should keep either near you.”
“All right. You can take one with you. I’ll have someone else hold the other half, but keep it away from me. At the rear of the baggage train, say.”
She didn’t care for that at all. “You should leave both pieces here, where the Naor are in no danger of getting hold of it. You’d be in extreme danger if this stone were to fall into enemy hands. I’d just as soon see both pieces destroyed, if I knew how.”
He shook his head. “There’s an advantage here you may not appreciate. It’s just possible the stones can give us a way to communicate from a distance.”
The full force of his idea caught her off guard. “You think that I can reach you while we’re traveling?”
“We know a talented weaver can use a hearthstone to send messages, even between realms. Why not send a message to me? I’m no mage, but I’m somehow attuned to this stone.”
“Not in a good way. Or in a controlled way, at least.”
He turned over his hand, as if casting off a worry. “We should experiment. I’ll have you ride to the far side of the city, on the wall, and try there.”
“Of course, but—”
“Good. And then if that works, it may work when you’re farther out. In either case, it will be farther away, which may limit the stone’s effect upon me.”
“I suspect. I don’t know for sure.”
He nodded. “Good. I want to be kept abreast of your progress.”
Didn’t he understand the risks? “You’re overlooking the dangers of your connection with this broken hearthstone. I have no way of knowing what prolonged involvement with it, or proximity to it, is going to do to you.”
When he met her eyes, she realized that he understood completely. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.” He jabbed a finger at the broken pieces. “That thing stole seven years. It’s about time that it helped me for a change.”