A long line of grim, silent wizards emerged from the corridor that led to the Guildmaster’s office and wound through the main Hall. Larine couldn’t bear to look at any of them. Which of her friends and guildmates would die tomorrow? Which of the familiars who clung close to their bondmates would be forced to draw the last dregs of life from both of their bodies and throw them into the storm? Which of them would pass through the darkness into the Mother’s light, never to return?
Hanion and Thunder walked to the end of the line and took their place. Larine fell in behind them, Daisy at her feet. None of them spoke. There was nothing left to say.
The night wore on and the line crept forward. One by one, the wizards entered Dabiel’s office. Each emerged a few minutes later and walked silently with their familiar to the stairs. Larine studied their faces surreptitiously as they passed, but none revealed a clue as to what had been said.
Finally, they reached the front of the line. Hanion held the door for Thunder, shot Larine a look of anguish and resolve, and entered. The door closed behind him with a thud.
Larine strained her ears, but she could hear nothing from beyond the stone wall and thick wood. She rubbed Daisy’s head. The dog licked her hand.
Much too soon, the door opened again. Hanion strode out, his hand on Thunder’s neck. He gave her an inscrutable look, in which all she could read was deep and enduring love, and passed her, down the corridor and into the Hall. Larine took a shaky breath and forced her hands to open the door and her feet to carry her through.
Dabiel was seated behind her desk. She wore the Guildmaster’s cloak, its gold trim glittering in the light shed by lanterns on the walls. She nodded, carefully formal, as Larine sat down in the single chair facing the desk. Usually two stood there, but one had been moved to the far side of the room. Tonight each wizard must make their decision and communicate it alone.
Not entirely alone. Daisy jumped into Larine’s lap. She’d grown too big to fit comfortably, but Larine didn’t care. She wrapped her arms around the dog. Daisy licked Larine’s face, and her tail thumped her side.
Dabiel gave them a bleak, exhausted smile. “The Mother asks you to sacrifice your life to save the people of Elathir from the approaching storm. Are you willing?”
Larine squeezed her eyes shut. There was only one thing she could say. “Yes.”
Dabiel sucked in her breath. Larine opened her eyes to find her friend staring at her. She ducked her head. “I am willing, Dab. I’ll go if you need me to. But please, if there are enough others who volunteer, don’t choose me. I know Hanion said no. At least, I hope he did. I don’t want to leave him. But if he said yes, and it has to be one of us, send me. I felt the Mother speaking to me, and he didn’t. I know this is my duty. If you have to choose me, at least let me know he’ll live.”
Larine raised her eyes to meet Dabiel’s. She flinched at the depth of pain and grief she saw there. “Dear Mother, Dab. Are you all right?”
“Of course not. How can I be?” Dabiel slumped in her chair and groped for Buttons.
Larine pushed Daisy out of her lap with an apologetic thought and jumped to her feet. She rounded the desk and threw her arms around Dabiel. The Guildmaster sagged against her, body shaking with silent sobs. “I’m here. It’s all right to cry.” She stroked Dabiel’s hair, remembering all the times her friend had done the same for her, and how much comfort it had given, even when she’d been empty and hopeless. Still, the gesture seemed pitifully inadequate. She’d never faced anything close to the horror Dabiel was enduring.
After a much shorter time than Larine thought she needed, Dabiel stilled and pulled away. She rubbed her eyes. “Blast it, Lar, I’m sorry.”
“You’ve got nothing to apologize for. I’m only doing what you’ve done for me a dozen times. You don’t have to go through this alone.”
“But I’m not the one who’s making the sacrifice.” She picked up her pen and opened a book on her desk. Larine carefully averted her eyes. “I can’t tell you what Hanion said.”
“Of course.” Larine returned to her chair, after eyeing Dabiel and deciding she was unlikely to break down again.
“Or any of the others.” Dabiel wrote, closed the book, and put down the pen. “But I promise I’ll honor your request and spare you if I can. You’ll only be on that ship if I’ve got no other choice.”
The knot in Larine’s stomach released. “Thank you.”
“Thank you.” Dabiel mustered a wan smile. “I would have preferred if you’d refused completely, but at least you gave me a chance to save your life.” She raised her hand as Larine started to protest. “And I know I can count on you to do what’s necessary, if that’s how things turn out.”
Larine clamped her mouth closed on the question she desperately wanted to ask. But Dabiel read the flick of her eyes toward the book with an effortlessness born of their long acquaintance. “It’s going to be close, Lar. Not many are left who haven’t told me their decision. I don’t know if there are going to be enough.”
Larine frowned. “I’m surprised. I would have thought almost everyone would volunteer.”
“I’m glad they didn’t.” Dabiel stared at the book, her fists clenched. “At least this way I know I convinced them to tell me the truth, not feel obligated to say yes no matter what. At least I know the ones who’ve volunteered mean it.”
“We do.” Larine put all the certainty she could muster into her voice. “You’re not sending anyone who isn’t absolutely certain they’re willing to do this. Freely, because the Mother asks, without any pressure other than knowing what will happen if we don’t.”
“Thank the Mother. I couldn’t bear it otherwise.” Dabiel waved at the door. “Go. Get some sleep if you can. All of us will need every scrap of energy we can salvage tomorrow, whether we go or stay.” One corner of her mouth turned up with strained but genuine humor. “Although I expect you’ll find a way to pass the time if you can’t sleep.”
Larine ached to be in Hanion’s arms. She didn’t know how much more lovemaking they could cram in before morning, but she intended to find out. She nodded and rose. Before leaving, she stopped at the desk and laid a hand on Dabiel’s arm. “If you need me, for anything, I’m here. Just ask.”
“I will.” Dabiel’s hand covered Larine’s and squeezed. “Now go be with him. For as long as you can.”