27
Dally’s first thought when she opened her eyes was, the man seated by her bed appeared to be everything she was not.
Self-assured, poised, handsome. And rich, by the look of things. He wore the warrior mage’s grey uniform, only his was in the form of tailored trousers and overmantle and matching boots, with the Oberon insignia sewn into one side of his shirt and Shona’s on the other.
He managed a regal bow even while seated. “A very good morning, Lady Dally.”
She pried apart her dry lips and rasped, “Please don’t call me that.”
“Thirsty?”
“Very.”
“Let me help you sit up.”
When his hands settled upon her arm and the back of her neck, Dally realized it was the man who had aided her before the attack. She found it mildly remarkable how it was not his good looks nor his deep voice but rather his touch that she recognized. She felt once more an intense bonding. Which caused her to blush. She did her best to hide behind her cup.
“More?”
“Please.”
“How shall I call you?”
“Dally is the only name I’ve ever known. Unless a childhood dream is real, and Dahlrin was indeed the name I was given at birth. As Mistress Edlyn suspects.” She drained the cup. The water tasted exquisite. “Thank you for your gift of strength yesterday.”
He offered another of his seated bows. “You are most welcome, Dally. I am Connell.”
“You are a wizard?”
His smile was magnetic. “Some would dispute that claim, but yes. I am.”
Dally looked around. Her pallet was surrounded on three sides by sunlit cloth. “I’m in the infirmary.”
A grey-haired mage chose that moment to walk past. He saw Dally was awake, scowled at Connell, then asked her, “How are you feeling?”
She took stock and replied, “I’m not sure.”
Connell asked, “Do you remember last night?”
The images were disjointed, all save the blast of multicolored power she had sent up into the stars. “Did I hurt someone?”
At a gesture from the medic, Connell rose and stepped away from her bed. “None of our company, if that’s what you mean.”
Cool fingers inspected the base of her skull. Only then did Dally feel the distant pain.
The healer asked, “Does that hurt?”
“A little.”
“A little is good. A lot is bad. If the pain grows worse you must tell me.”
Connell asked, “Can she go?”
Clearly the medic disliked Connell’s presence. “There is no apparent damage. But head injuries surprise us from time to time.” He said to Dally, “Remember, the first sign of rising discomfort, you must alert me or another medic.”
When they were alone, Dally asked, “What did you do to upset the man?”
“Not me, but our leaders.” Connell did not resume his seat. “If you are ready, there’s something they desperately need for you to do.”
Dally felt a shock of rising dread with the realization of why he was there. “Oh no.”
“I’m afraid so.” He offered his hand. “Will you come?”
The medic protested again as they departed the infirmary, but no one made a move to stop them. A low mist clung to the village of Elmtree, turning all edges soft and making it impossible for Dally to tell where sounds came from. Then a soft rush of footfalls was followed by a wet nose pressing into her side. Dally knelt in the damp earth and allowed Nabu to lick her face. The simple act helped immensely to anchor her to the moment.
When she lifted her head from the dog’s fur, she saw the last remaining unnamed dog hovering just out of reach, waiting her turn. Dally reached out one arm. The dogs smelled of damp pelts and life. She gave in to the simple pleasure for a time, then rose and asked, “Why now?”
“They never tell me anything.” Connell gestured toward the unseen camp. “Shall we?”
Beneath his glib words, Dally detected a faint bitterness. She knew the question was valid. Why did they want her to hunt for answers now? Somewhere in the distance she heard a pair of fiddlers practicing a jig and knew the village was preparing a fete. The battle was won. The legends had come alive before their very eyes. The thorn barrier was no more.
Dally walked alongside the tall mage and asked, “Couldn’t their questions wait just one day?”
“Apparently not.”
Gingerly she touched the point where she had struck the stone. “My head hurts.”
Connell pointed into the mist. “Which is why an Elven healer is standing just beyond the portal. Or so they claim.”
Dally said, “You know something.”
“I suspect,” he corrected. “I have watched powerful people not say things all my life. It has granted me a hard-earned ability to deduce what they keep unspoken.”
His words almost made sense. “All your life you’ve been surrounded by power?”
“My earliest memories are of a prince’s audience chamber. My family members are wealthy traders with a heritage stretching back to Falmouth Port’s earliest days. They were the first to offer fealty after the Oberons retreated there. And they have reaped the whirlwind ever since.”
All Dally heard made this man seem impossibly far removed. A universe of wealth and experience separated them. It was ridiculous to feel such disappointment. All she said was, “Oh.”
“I learned early and well to hear what was not being said. And what they don’t want to admit, not even to themselves.”
“What did you not hear from our leaders today?”
He stopped and lowered his voice, though there was no one visible to overhear them. “Two things. First, they don’t want to admit to something all leaders dread.”
“What is that?”
“They have no idea what to do next,” Connell replied. “Which leads us to the second unspoken message. They suspect the dark wizard who led the attack has survived. There is no evidence one way or the other. And the remaining fiends have vanished. The Elves have scoured the forest and found no sign. But they fear the true foe is still out there, and I agree.”
Dally nodded reluctantly. “They need to know if he’s going to attack again, and how.”
“And where,” Connell confirmed.
“They could ask the Ashanta.”
“And they will, if they must. But the Ashanta are being extremely, well, Ashanta. So they’d rather ask you.”
The mist coalesced into a dense white entity that threatened to cut off Dally’s air. Even so, she managed a quiet, “I’ll do it.”