31: RAINBOW LAKE
Qown’s memory1 The Upper Circle of the Capital City, Quur
Just after the Lysian gas attack at the Culling Fields
They ended up stealing a horse and wagon from behind the Culling Fields and steering it into a back alley.
“That could have gone better,” Galen said.
Anlyr just pressed his lips together and shook his head.
“Go ahead and say it,” Galen said.
“Never underestimate stupid people,” Anlyr said.
Sheloran sat up and straightened her agolé. “I’m reluctant to call Gerisea stupid when we’re the ones hiding behind a chandler’s.”
“Can’t we just go back to the Veil?” Qown asked.
“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Anlyr said. “If Gerisea is smart”—he gave Galen a look—“then she’ll have people watching the exits to the Lower Circle. There aren’t that many of them.”
Galen sighed. “No, you’re right. That would be the smart thing to do.” He chewed on his lip before turning to Qown. “How did you know? Just before the gas erupted, you knew something was wrong.”
“I’ve seen Lysian gas before,” Qown explained. “I’ve seen it wipe out entire towns. That’s why I—” He swallowed. “That’s why I knew how to deal with it.”
“You are my new official favorite person,” Sheloran murmured.
“Anyone have any suggestions on where we can go? Since House D’Talus is out of the question and I just made the significantly viler of my two aunts a high lord?”
Qown swallowed. “Rainbow Lake.”
Galen raised an eyebrow at him.
“The Temple of Light. My temple, on the shore of Rainbow Lake.” Qown forced an entirely fake smile on his face. “We’ve been hiding out in a brothel. Let’s try the opposite.”
“It would be nice to go home again,” Anlyr murmured.
Galen took a deep breath. “Sold. Now we just have to get there.” He fished a small, flat piece of jade out of an inside pocket. “Fortunately, I know just how to do that.” He saw the questioning look on Qown’s face and smiled. “As it happens, any family members of House D’Aramarin can use the portal system at any time, to any location, no questions asked.” He held up the jade token. “And my mother was a princess of House D’Aramarin. Bring the wagon.”
Galen hadn’t been exaggerating. Not a single House D’Aramarin servant asked questions. Qown thought it odd; after all, Galen was dressed in blue and had blue eyes. He clearly wasn’t House D’Aramarin. But that token was apparently the only identification that mattered.2 Within minutes, they were walking up to the afternoon gate attendant.
The Gatestone system was the transportation hub of the entire empire. Most locations might have a single circular area that was cordoned off to form an octagon of green tiles. Qown knew that magical transportation arrays were engraved on the underside of the tiles, but outsiders were never allowed to see them. This, however, was the hub of the Gatestone system, and so there were no fewer than eight such gates, all of which could be operated simultaneously.
Qown had only used the gates a few times in his life, and later, it seemed that almost everyone he knew could open a gate themselves. So this was a weird feeling. Still, everything went correctly, and they (and their horse and wagon) made it to the other side. By this time, it was late afternoon, so the easiest thing to do was find a hospitality house, reserve rooms for the night, and head out to the temple itself in the morning. Qown ordered the three poison victims to bed early—he’d cured the main issues, but that didn’t mean their systems hadn’t taken a dangerous shock. Given the healing he’d given them, they would sleep deeply through the night. Gerisea hadn’t been taking chances. Qown let Anlyr fuss over defenses and perimeters and all the other security issues that his heart desired, and also retired early. Bluntly, he was tired.
However, he wasn’t so tired that he didn’t wake up in the middle of the night to a deafening roar, the ground shaking, and a sound roughly analogous to boulders shattering. He ran out to the balcony, watching as people all over the city unshielded mage-lights and opened windows. Dogs started barking. The upset murmurs of people echoed around them. In the distance, the sky lit up several times, lightning flashing in all the wrong colors: lavenders and blues and greens.
Then came the flash that silhouetted a giant draconian shape, head swooping down to bite at something. The roar rolled over the town a moment later, loud enough to shake walls, easy to mistake for violent thunder if one didn’t know the truth was so much worse.
Qown stared in mute shock. Then a fact filtered through the horror: direction.
That direction was Rainbow Lake. That direction was the Temple of Light.
“No! Oh no!” He turned to head inside and ran smack into Anlyr, who was also frowning, but not at the direction of the devastating dragon attack. The House D’Mon guard was frowning specifically at him. Then, like someone had pulled a veil across Anlyr’s face, he smiled, any sign of anger or disapproval gone.
“Anlyr, let me pass—”
“What would you do?” Anlyr’s voice was surprisingly soft. “What difference could you make? All you would do by heading that way is put your own life in danger, and your job is here, alive.”
“People will be injured over there—”
“Wait until the dragon leaves,” he said.
Qown inhaled. “I am a healer. I’m not going to turn my back on people who need me.”
Anlyr rolled his eyes. “Don’t make me tie you down,” he said. “I’ll do it.”
“I’m not the person you’re assigned to protect!” Qown snapped.
Anlyr laughed.
Qown started to shove past him. No sooner had he than the man grabbed him by the arms and pulled them behind his back. Qown knew Anlyr didn’t actually intend to hurt him, but that didn’t mean the guard was being gentle. “I’ll start screaming!” Qown threatened. Even as he made the threat, he remembered that Galen and Sheloran had enough damage to their lungs from the Lysian gas that he’d sent them to bed with a sleeping tincture. They weren’t going to wake, even under threat of dragon attack.
Anlyr dragged him back inside. “Go right ahead,” Anlyr said pleasantly. “And given what’s going on outside, I’ll be very impressed if anyone even bothers to check on you. They’re all too busy hoping the giant dragon doesn’t decide to go after this town next.”
“Anlyr! Stop this right now!” But he didn’t; Qown found himself being forced into a chair with his arms twisted behind him. He tried to escape as Anlyr began binding his hands with a cord. “You have rope? Who carries rope on them in the middle of the night?”
Anlyr stopped for a moment, and Qown felt something lean against him from behind. He realized Anlyr was resting his head against Qown’s and laughing, hard, his whole body shaking from it.
“I’m so happy this amuses you,” Qown said through clenched teeth.
“Oh, you have no idea the … restraint … I’m showing right now.” Anlyr said happily as he moved Qown’s hair out of the way so it wouldn’t be caught on the ropes or the chair pressing against his back. He smoothed his hand down the side of Qown’s head as if he were a dog on a leash while Qown could only sit there and seethe.
Seethe and … think about Anlyr’s hands touching him. Truthfully, Qown was starting to feel a little uncomfortable. And then angry about that feeling because he was quite sure Anlyr knew perfectly well that he was making Qown feel uncomfortable.
Anlyr finished tying his knots and came around to Qown’s front, crouched back on his heels between Qown’s legs while he rested his elbows on Qown’s thighs.
“Comfortable?” Anlyr asked.
“No!” Qown said. “You can’t leave me here all night, you know.”
“No?” Anlyr thought about it. “Hmm. Pretty sure I can. Also, I don’t trust you not to run off and do something stupid and heroic. Seriously, you need to break this habit. It’s only going to get you into trouble.” He looked to the side past Qown, where the lights and roaring shook the skies in the distance. “I’m probably saving your life, and lucky me, you won’t even be grateful.”
“You have me tied up,” Qown pointed out.
“You won’t be grateful for that either.”
Qown choked.
The corner of Anlyr’s mouth quirked up as he stared into Qown’s eyes. It left absolutely no doubt in Qown’s mind that yes, Anlyr knew exactly what he was doing, and yes, he was doing it on purpose.
“Don’t … I don’t—” Qown started to stammer.
Anlyr sighed and wrinkled his nose. “Relax, Qown. Forcing someone is only fun when it’s pretend. Besides, I make a personal point to never rape anyone who could kill me with a hard look.”
“I can’t—”
“Oh, you could. You just don’t have the motivation. I’m not stupid enough to provide you with any either.” He studied Qown thoughtfully. “Although we could still do that pretend bit, if you wanted.”
“I’m sorry?” Qown hated how panicked he sounded.
“Come now. I know Vishai take a vow of chastity, but I also thought you were supposed to be honest about your emotions. And whether or not you’re happy about the idea, you have to admit that you are interested. You’re just burning up with how interested you are, aren’t you?”
Qown felt a stab of guilt. Honesty was important. So was breathing, he reminded himself. Breathing was important. He needed to remember to do that. “Whether I am or not doesn’t change anything.”
“I rather think it does,” Anlyr said, moving his hand farther up Qown’s thigh without actually touching him. Qown could all but feel the heat radiating from the man’s hand. “Say yes, and then we can pretend you said no to your heart’s desire. Ah, it wouldn’t be your fault at all. You were helpless. My prisoner.”
“I am helpless and your prisoner,” Qown pointed out.
Anlyr smiled and looked up at Qown through his eyelashes. “Are you, though?”
Qown’s throat felt very dry.
“I … I thank you for the courtesy of your polite offer,” Qown finally managed to say, “but I’m afraid I shall have to decline.”
It had been so much easier to say that in Jorat.
Anlyr laughed. “Gods, you’re adorable.” He glanced back behind him toward the cots. “So which one of them are you saving yourself for? Galen or Sheloran? Hmm. A little of both, I think, but mostly Galen. Can’t say I blame you. Those D’Mon boys are awfully pretty.”
Qown’s heart rate increased. “That’s … He’s not … Nothing is going to happen.”
Those eyes turned serious, even stern. The change was so startling it felt like being doused in cold water. “Good. Keep it that way.”
That stopped Qown. “Wait. Is this some kind of weird test? Was all this to try … Are you protecting him?”
“No, I’m protecting you,” Anlyr said. “You know you don’t get to have him, right? There is no scenario where someone like him ends up with someone like you. It’s just not how this world works.” This time, his hand did come down on Qown’s thigh, did stroke upward, and Qown couldn’t stop himself from shivering. “Now, if it’s just a matter of you having a late coming of age, I am generously offering you the opportunity to get it all out of your system.”
“Ha! Generous?”
“I’m a giver,” Anlyr admitted.
“You’re a terrible person!” Qown said.
Anlyr leaned forward and put a finger against Qown’s lips, the action so intimate it silenced Qown better than a gag.
“Shh,” he said. “Let that be our little secret.” Anlyr winked at Qown before he stood up and walked back out toward the balcony. “Now try to get some sleep. I suspect tomorrow will be very trying for everyone.”
Qown woke when he heard movement. That turned out to be Galen, who’d been the least injured and so presumably needed the least sleep. He walked over in front of Qown and squinted at the man, bemused. “Um, do I want to know why you’re tied up?”
“Your stupid guard did this to me. He’s a menace! Don’t let the face fool you. He’s evil! You have to untie me right now!”
Anlyr began to talk mid-yawn, and then started over. “There was … Sorry—looks like some sort of dragon was fighting something over by Rainbow Lake, so our very own personal saint here decided he wanted to go up there while the dragon was still stomping around. I apologize if I overreached, my lord, but you seem to like him, so I assumed you’d want him to stay among the living.”
Galen blinked at Anlyr. “Right. Yes, thank you. You did the right thing.” He frowned, looking at Anlyr, then Qown, then back to Anlyr again. He didn’t seem very pleased by whatever he saw, and scowled. Then to Qown, he said, “Don’t be like my brother Kihrin. Nobody likes a hero.”
Behind him, Anlyr chuckled.
“Must I point out that in fact everyone likes a hero?” Qown said as he pulled on his restraints.
Galen shook his head. “No. Everyone likes to tell stories about heroes. That’s not the same thing at all. Didn’t your Father Zajhera tell you a dead physicker heals no one? Even I know that rule.”
Qown snorted and didn’t answer. In part because yes, Father Zajhera had told him that rule. And reminded him about it regularly since. But … he didn’t know. Maybe he’d spent too much time around Janel.
Anlyr frowned. “Question?”
“Yes, Anlyr?”
“Apologies, but I thought Kihrin was your uncle.”
Galen waved a hand. “Whatever. Calling him my uncle feels weird when he’s only a year older. He’s my brother until he tells me to stop. Would you kindly untie my man, Anlyr? If there’s been trouble over at the temple, we should go see if we can help.”
“Thank you!” Qown said. “Must I mention that all those healers who were supposed to help out House D’Mon are over there? Or at least were?”
Galen inhaled, suggesting that no, he hadn’t thought about that at all. “All right. Let’s wake up Sheloran. We’ll leave immediately.”
Qown couldn’t stop himself from gasping when they came around the bend.
He’d known it would be bad. For the prior hour, they’d been encountering refugees along the road, petitioners who had gone to the Temple of Light for various reasons and had fled in horror when the attack had begun. Qown had healed people until Galen ordered him to save his strength.
Anlyr said nothing, but Qown saw him fingering the thin cord wrapped around his waist—which turned out to be what he’d bound Qown’s arms with the night before. When Anlyr noticed Qown looking, he returned the priest’s stare with a smirk. Hot-faced, Qown looked away.
But he forgot all that when he saw the ruins before him, the result of nothing so simple or clean as Sharanakal’s fire or Morios’s blades. The shore by the lake was strewn with rubble, but some of that rubble was melted and some shattered. Electrical arc burns tore apart rock, while ash spiraled in dust devils twisting though the wreckage. And then there were the bodies …
The bile rose in Qown’s throat. He saw a person caught halfway through a stone block, as if they had turned insubstantial and then solid again while still melded through the rock. Another person lay dead, screaming, half their body twisted like long strings of sugar candy. Another body was—literally—turned inside out. No two people seemed to have died the same way, but it was all universally horrifying, people trapped halfway into transition to … something else. Animals and insects or masses of slick, gelatinous tumors.
Galen ran off to be sick, and Qown had to stop himself from following to do the same. Qown swallowed and shut his eyes.
He wasn’t sure if he should take comfort in the fact that there didn’t seem to be nearly enough bodies. Did that mean more of his people had survived the devastation? Or did that just mean those bodies weren’t in a state to be recognized as such?
“There’s someone over there,” Sheloran said. “I saw movement.” She left the horse and wagon and started picking her way through the rubble.
Everyone followed her. It took them nearly fifteen minutes just to make their way the several hundred feet to where, Qown realized with sinking dread, the main heart of the temple had once stood. It wasn’t recognizable as anything but a horror-splattered canvas.
But Sheloran was right; a single person stood in the middle of the destruction, pacing out the length of the temple confines while blocks of stone magically moved around him. He was clearing room for bodies.
It was Relos Var.
Not Father Zajhera. He didn’t look like the patriarch of the Vishai faith. He wore the form that Qown knew from Jorat, from Yor. The form of the wizard whom Qown was not supposed to publicly admit was his boss.
“Um, hello,” Galen said. “Who are you?”
Relos Var looked up, seemingly surprised. His eyes were bloodshot. Light, had he been crying? The truth of that struck Qown in the gut, punched the air from his lungs. Var studied their group, frowning, eyes narrowed.
“What are you doing here?” Relos Var demanded. “What happened?” He gestured toward Anlyr. “Tell me.”
The man cleared his throat, momentarily uncomfortable, then straightened. “There was a problem with the sisters. Unfortunately, the result is that Tishenya is dead, Galen D’Mon isn’t high lord, and Gerisea is. Also, Galen may be wanted for the assassination of Tishenya and illegal use of Lysian gas. Gerisea was responsible for both, but I’m sure she’ll waste no time blaming the person not in a position to defend themselves.”
“Anlyr!” Galen looked furious. “What the hell are you doing?”
“What I asked,” Relos Var said dryly.
“That’s Relos Var,” Qown said, because he’d told Galen enough to be able to say that without jeopardizing his cover. “Galen, that’s Relos Var. I don’t know if you—”
“I know who Relos Var is,” Galen said coldly.
Relos Var rubbed an eye and sighed. “Gorokai attacked last night. And Rol’amar—” He drew in a sharp, shuddering breath as he stared out in to the middle distance before pulling himself back. “Anyway, apparently Gorokai’s been hiding out in Rainbow Lake for centuries pretending to be a damn fish and I had no idea.3 None. Just … incredible. Fucking incredible! For over a thousand years, Skyfire was guarded by four thousand wizards, but the night they’re all sent to the Capital, that’s the night a dragon attacks.” He made a vague gesture behind him.
Qown followed the line of his hand while his brain tried to fill in all the gaps in the destruction and piece together the floor plan of the temple as it had originally been.
And that spot …
“The Sacred Lamp?” Qown gasped. “The dragon … Gorokai the dragon stole the Sacred Lamp?”
“No, that’s currently twisted into a puzzle ring over to the side there. Gorokai stole what was inside the Sacred Lamp. He stole the Cornerstone Skyfire. Which means…” Relos Var growled. “Which means my plans have to change.” He stopped and turned back to the group, his gaze speculative.
Qown … really didn’t like the way Relos Var was looking at them.
“Skyfire,” Qown said, gulping. “Right. Aeyan’arric’s Cornerstone. I don’t know much about … Really? The Sacred Lamp housed a Cornerstone? All this time?”
Sheloran started to say something. Galen put a hand on her arm and shook his head. He watched the two men talk without saying a word.
“I created each Cornerstone,” Var said, “to supplant the power of one of the Eight Immortals. And Skyfire is linked to S’arric. Do you understand what that means? Skyfire can destroy entire cities in a flash of bright light, and it has been stolen by fucking Gorokai!”
Qown had never seen Relos Var like this before. It was more than just annoyed or inconvenienced or even angry.
He was panicked.
“What was that about Rol’amar?” Qown asked. “You started to say something about Rol’amar.”
Relos Var sneered. “It’s not important.”4
“But I thought—” Qown shook his head. “Okay. But how did Gorokai…? Don’t you control dragons?”
“Not when Vol Karoth’s awake!5 Which he is. So Gorokai is probably on his way to Kharas Gulgoth as we speak to try to break his master free from his prison.”
“We have to stop him,” Sheloran said. “There … there is a way to stop him, isn’t there?”
“Wait,” Galen said. “Who’s Vol Karoth?”
Everyone paused.
“The Hellwarrior,” Sheloran offered as if Galen would of course know what that meant. “I mean, not really, but—”
“I thought Relos Var was trying to help the Hellwarrior, though.” Galen made a skeptical face at the wizard.
“Young man, you mustn’t believe everything Jarith told you. It’s not like he had any idea what was really—” Relos Var stopped and blinked at the prince several times.
The wind howled and pushed the ash in circles around them.
“What?” Galen said.
“She’s right,” Relos Var said, pointing to Sheloran. “We do need to stop Gorokai. But it won’t be any of you who does it. He’s out of your league. I’m going to have to take care of him myself.” His eyes glinted. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t help in a different way.”
Galen let out a nervous, disbelieving laugh. “What?”
“Yes,” Relos Var said. “I think that might just work. So a change of plans is in order.”
Galen shook his head. “I don’t know who the hell you’re—”
“He’s … Gods … Galen, you don’t even know.” Sheloran was holding the fan in her hand so tightly that if it hadn’t been metal, she’d have broken it. Her hands were shaking.
Clearly, Sheloran knew exactly who Relos Var was. Which was …
Which was really interesting, now that Qown thought about it. Galen knew the name too, but it was likely because of Jarith, and in that context, he knew of Relos Var as Azhen Kaen’s court wizard. Sheloran, though? She seemed to know exactly how dangerous Relos Var really was.
“Anlyr, I’m changing your assignment,” Relos Var said. “I need you with me.”
“Yes, Lord Var,” Anlyr said.
Qown’s focus snapped back to the guard. What.
“What the—” Galen didn’t actually say the next word, just mouthed it silently.
Anlyr calmly walked over to stand next to Var, shrugging to the others in a gesture that didn’t even begin to count as an apology.
He winked at Qown.
Qown’s lungs felt like they were on fire. In a heated rush, he realized that he’d had it all wrong. Anlyr had been there to protect Qown. He’d been there to both protect Qown and also watch him and make sure he did the job to which he’d been assigned. A hidden monitor, checking on the performance of the new recruit.
“Now the rest of you—”
“You had a spy?” Galen said, his tone venomous and his hands closed into fists. “You had a spy watching me?”
Relos Var pursed his lips. “In a manner of speaking. Don’t take it personally.”
“I suppose it does explain how you know who we are,” Sheloran murmured.
“Don’t sell yourself short, Your Highness,” Relos Var told her. “You’re quite special, after all.”
Galen just stared. “There is nothing you can say that would ever convince me to help you.”
“I know how to resurrect Jarith,” Relos Var said.
Qown closed his eyes. Oh. Yes, that would do the job nicely.
“What?” Galen asked carefully. He took a step forward.
“I know how to resurrect Jarith,” Relos Var repeated. “Shall I say it louder?”
“That’s not necessary,” Sheloran said, “but it is very uncalled for to make that kind of claim when we both know perfectly well—”
“Red,” Galen said. “Shut up.”
Sheloran flashed her husband a deeply worried look.
Galen turned back to Relos Var. “How would you get around Thaena?”
The wizard smiled. “As I said, every Cornerstone was meant to supplant one of the Eight Immortals. The Cornerstone that does so for Thaena is called Grimward, and I know where it is. I was in fact, on my way to retrieve it when”—he angrily flicked his fingers toward the horrors and debris—“this happened. So it’s simple: if you recover Grimward for me, I’ll show you how to use the Cornerstone to Return your cousin.”
Anlyr glanced over at Var. “Can’t Senera—?”
“No, she’s busy.”6
Anlyr sighed.
Relos Var continued, “You’re seeking a pirate known as the Lash who operates near Zherias. He shouldn’t be too difficult to track down. I understand he’s rather infamous. I’ll give you a way to contact me once you have Grimward, and we’ll arrange for the rest of the deal.” He paused. “Every Cornerstone has a specific set of requirements that are necessary to fulfill in order to steal the stone. I won’t lie; Grimward’s are somewhat macabre. You’ll need to kill its owner and then destroy the body before the Stone can regenerate it back to life again. Fire is traditional, but I leave that up to you.”
Galen stared at the man. “And what else?”
Var blinked, surprised. “What else?”
“Naturally. I want to see Jarith Returned, yes, but that doesn’t really help me on a personal level, does it? Not when, as Anlyr pointed out, we were forced to flee the Capital.”
Qown blinked at Galen.
“I see.” Relos Var looked faintly surprised. “Obviously, I can take care of the situation with your aunt Gerisea for you. You’ll have your title and position restored to you and any threat to that position eliminated. Is that enough for you?”
“Hm.” Galen studied Relos Var thoughtfully. “Yes, that would be more than enough.”
“So we have a deal?”
“No.”
Relos Var looked taken aback. “What did you just say?”
“I said no, we don’t have a deal,” Galen said. “And we will never have a deal. Because I have heard of you. And while you think Jarith couldn’t possibly know who or what you really are—and you’re probably right—he had figured out one thing: nobody who makes a deal with you ever comes out on top of it. I’m not so arrogant as to think I’d be any different. So no deals. Find someone else to be your lackey. I don’t like the price tag attached to anything you’re selling.”
Galen turned around and started to walk away. He turned back to address the others. “We’re leaving. Clearly, we’re going to have to find someplace else to spend the night, anyway.”
“Um, but, my lord…,” Qown started to say.
“Now, Qown.”
Sheloran gave Relos Var one last, suspicious look before she did the same.
Which left Qown standing there, looking at him.
Relos Var didn’t seem upset. He had a faint smile playing on his lips. When he saw Qown still remained, he made a shooing motion. “Follow your little friends,” he ordered.
“And remember what I said,” Anlyr told Qown.
Qown stared at the two men for a beat longer, not responding. Then he turned and fled, running to catch up to the others.
They returned to the horse (which they had technically stolen when they’d taken the attached wagon), turned it around, and walked back to town.
Galen stopped just outside of city limits and looked at both Sheloran and Qown. He had a scowl affixed firmly on his face. “All right. How do you both know him?”
Sheloran raised her eyebrows. “Blue, he’s Relos Var.”
“Explain that like it’s not perfectly obvious to a three-year-old.”
“He’s not human. He’s not even kind of human. He’s responsible for—” Sheloran sighed. “He is older than the empire, responsible for the creation of the Immortals, and basically a god himself. To say he’s dangerous is a bit like saying an erupting volcano is a tiny bit warm. At least, so my mother says.”
Galen swung his attention to Qown. “And you?”
“I told you I was being kept hostage in Yor,” Qown said. “Relos Var was the court wizard there.”
“Yes, that part I’d heard,” Galen scoffed. “I’m supposed to believe that the Duke of Yor has a millennia-old almost-god as his court wizard?”
“Had,” Qown corrected. “The Duke of Yor’s dead. The witch-queen Suless killed him.”
The two royals both stared at him blankly.
“Blue, much as I do support your decision, don’t you think—?”
“There’s nothing to talk about, Red,” Galen said. “My father was part of the group of cackling would-be villainous idiots that bastard leads. And that is all the endorsement I need to know that any enticement he offers is a trap. Men like that don’t think they need to play true with anyone else. People don’t matter to them.”
“Oh, I don’t … I don’t know if that’s fair—” Qown started to say.
“Don’t start!” Galen scowled at Qown. “He had that man spying on me, Qown. People with good intentions don’t do that. So drop it. We’ll find some other way to get what we want. And as for Jarith—he was my friend. Words cannot even begin to describe how unhappy I am that he’s gone, but he is. And no vague promises of a manipulative wizard with a world-conquering agenda is going to bring him back.”
Qown swallowed. He didn’t know if Relos Var was lying or not, but he knew of exactly two people who had managed to defy Thaena and come back from the dead—Gadrith and Xivan. Neither had done so as living beings. Would Jarith be grateful or even want to be returned in such a condition? He didn’t know.
“Let’s go back to town,” Qown suggested. “I’m sure there’s another inn where we can stay until we figure out what our next steps are.”
Galen nodded. “Yes. A meal might be nice too.” He seemed defeated, tired, even a bit broken.
But Qown couldn’t help but admire him, a little, or maybe a lot, for doing what so many others hadn’t and sticking to his convictions. He just wished …
Qown was well aware that it would be his job to convince Galen to change his mind.
He just had to figure out how.
Later that night, they settled in to a rented room. One room, because previously Anlyr had been staying with Qown, and now Galen didn’t want to leave any of them alone just in case he came back. The chance meeting with the wizard had turned him deeply paranoid.
But Qown was grateful, because honestly, he wasn’t sure Anlyr wouldn’t come back either.
That night, after Qown had used Worldhearth to allow Sheloran to check in with her people in the Shadowdancers, Qown insisted on continuing their treatment.
“I’ve treated Lysian gas,” Qown explained, “but never as a swallowed substance. I don’t know what long-term effects it will have on either of you.” He gave them each a cup of brewed medicine. “This will help.”
Sheloran took hers with grace. The problem, naturally, was Galen.
“If that’s going to make me sleep,” Galen said, “then I don’t want it.”
“You need to heal,” Qown chided.
“I don’t like … I don’t like being helpless,” Galen said. He gave Qown a sharp look. “Last night, with Anlyr … he didn’t do anything, did he?”
Qown exhaled. Light. “No. No. That would be pretty silly of him, wouldn’t it? I mean, out of character. He would have given the whole charade away. No, he just tied me up. That was bad enough.” He gestured toward the medicine. “I should drink one of those myself, with how little sleep I had last night.”
“Not a problem. You can have mine.” Galen held up the cup and offered it to Qown.
“Galen,” Sheloran chided. “Don’t be a child.”
Qown wrapped his hand around Galen’s and pushed it gently back toward the man. “Drink it, my lord. Please. I don’t want you unconscious if anything serious should threaten us either. If anything happens, you’ll wake.”
Galen grimaced. “It’s not you. I’m just not feeling very trusting right now.”
Qown smiled. “If I were going to try something, I could have done so last night. Or for that matter, I could do something now. Do you think I need to use this to send you to sleep? Because I really don’t.”
Galen stared at him in consternation. “Fine. Against my better judgment.”
“As long as you drink,” Qown said.
Galen did, tipping the cup back, wincing at the taste. “Why … why do these always taste so terrible?”
“It’s tradition,” Qown said. “You should feel a little sleepy soon. If you make the effort, you can ignore the impulse, although I don’t recommend it.”
It would also make Galen more than a little suggestible. That would be harder to ignore.
“Fine,” Galen said and started stripping off his clothes, which made Sheloran giggle. And then she started undressing too.
Qown spun around.
“You’re a physicker,” Sheloran teased, amusement floating through her voice. “How can you possibly be embarrassed by a naked person?”
“I just, it’s that … Are you two in bed yet?”
“We are,” Galen admitted.
When Qown turned back, he found that true enough. Galen had left on his misha, Sheloran her raisigi. None of them had had opportunity to grab clothing when they’d been forced to leave the city so precipitously.
“We should probably try to pick up some clothing tomorrow,” Qown said. “Something less identifiable.”
“Mmm,” Sheloran agreed. “Are you getting undressed, or do you intend to sleep in your agolé?” Her lips curved. “Not that it matters to me, but Galen deserves nice things.”
Galen batted Sheloran’s arm. “Stop,” he told his wife. “Stop teasing.”
Qown knelt next to the mattress. “I thought we might talk about Jarith.”
Both of them stopped laughing and turned back to him. Galen’s stare was not at all friendly this time.
“It’s just…” Qown cleared his throat. “It seems to me that Relos Var gave us all the information we need. Is there anything stopping us from … going ahead and finding Grimward on our own?”
Galen blinked at him. “You mean … leave Quur?” He said it like it was an impossible, ridiculous idea. Who could leave Quur? Who could even think of such a thing?
“My lord, given what we left behind, taking time to lie low and allow matters to calm seems prudent. Gerisea will have her people looking for you.”
Sheloran tugged on Galen’s sleeve. “You know, we can keep in contact with everyone at the Veil using Qown’s Cornerstone. It’s not a terrible idea.”
Qown beamed at her. “Thank you.”
“But—” Galen seemed to still be grappling with the whole “leaving Quur” idea. He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. “I don’t think the three of us versus an infamous pirate king are good odds, Qown.”
Qown grimaced, because Galen was right about that.
“But we don’t know, do we?” Qown said. “Besides, you’re a fantastic swordsman, I can heal, and Sheloran is just terrifying—”
“Aw, thank you,” she said happily.
“Y-you’re welcome,” Qown said. “As long as we have to keep a low profile, anyway, why not investigate if this is possible?”
Galen chewed on the inside of his lip. “Huh. You may have a point.”