OSIRA’H
After they all felt the resounding empathic tremors of massacres taking place in Mijistra and at the Hiltos shrine, Jora’h announced his immediate departure from Theroc. He needed to be back among his people, although Osira’h was just as concerned about his own vulnerability to the shadows. As the nexus of the thism, the Mage-Imperator was a target.
Because of his inability to help his people through the distant disasters, Jora’h looked sickened. Osira’h could feel the emotions emanating from her father, though he tried to quell them, knowing that all of his people would sense his dismay—which would weaken the Ildiran race further.
Osira’h had been sad that she would leave Prince Reyn, but that was just the sorrow of parting—not a tragedy. Now there was a crisis at the heart of the Empire. Part of her longed to stay with Reyn; he needed her and she gave him strength. But Osira’h belonged back on Ildira. Her unique halfbreed powers had allowed her to save the Empire before. She needed to be ready to do it again.
As the entourage rushed to depart, Ildiran cutters were en route from the warliners in orbit. King Peter and Queen Estarra came to bid the Ildiran delegation farewell.
Wanting to stay with her until the last possible moment, Reyn accompanied Osira’h to the landing area on top of the canopy. Since his recent collapse, he had been tended by Confederation medical specialists as well as traditional Theron doctors. Unable to cure his debilitating illness, they treated the symptoms. Even knowing that he had contracted it from a microfungus indigenous to the worldforest had not helped them find a solution. Local Theron remedies had no more effect than the most sophisticated pharmaceuticals developed on New Portugal, or black-market drugs from some place called Rakkem. His parents had offered immense rewards for any flicker of hope, but so far, no miracle had appeared.
During Reyn’s recovery, Osira’h had been his closest companion. In his private chambers, with the windows open and colorful flying insects dancing outside, Osira’h remained with him, holding his hand and encouraging him to rest, while Reyn insisted vehemently that he was fine. “It was just a dizzy spell. I felt weak, but I’m better now.”
Much to Peter and Estarra’s satisfaction, Osira’h had a greater force of will, and she made him take his recovery slowly. Despite his protests, he was obviously glad that she remained there.
Osira’h had always known she would return to Ildira. She tried to prepare herself mentally for that, yet she didn’t want to be separated from him. But there would be ample diplomatic opportunities for the Mage-Imperator’s daughter and the Confederation’s Prince to see each other again. She clung to that.
With a drone of engines, Ildiran cutters landed on the canopy, flying complex maneuvers and trailing prismatic ribbons in the air, as if this were an ordinary skyparade. At about the same time, with a clatter of small engines, a group of flying craft skimmed along the treetops from the west: her sister Muree’n along with Yazra’h, back from their wyvern hunt. They, too, would have sensed the crisis in the thism network.
The green priest Beltrias had sent word ahead about the results of the hunt through telink, so they knew the monster had been killed. Beltrias led the way, beside Anton Colicos, who clung to his wobbly aircraft. On their own flyers, Yazra’h and Muree’n sat proud in their armor, but their triumph was diminished because of the distant tragedy.
After landing, Yazra’h swung off her vehicle with remarkable suppleness. Muree’n imitated her, while Anton struggled to dismount. When he nearly tripped, Yazra’h flashed out a hand to steady him, as if she were deflecting a poisonous viper from striking him. Embarrassed, the human historian mumbled his thanks.
Without wasting time on greetings, Mage-Imperator Jora’h said, “Come! The Empire needs us. We depart for Ildira immediately.”
Yazra’h placed her hands on Anton’s shoulders in a formal gesture of farewell. “I am sorry to leave you.”
He seemed surprised. “I’m going back with you. Your rememberers need me—they can’t sort through all those ancient Shana Rei records themselves, and they sure don’t have the imagination to connect the dots unless somebody shows them how. You need me there.”
Yazra’h accepted his decision. “Yes, I do. I will protect you.”
Blushing, he laughed. “Really? You just dragged me out into the deep forest on a monster hunt.”
She cocked her eyebrows. “You survived—and you returned with a glorious story.”
Wistfully, Nira touched the fronds on the canopy, engaging in direct contact with the worldforest one more time. “We have to go.”
Osira’h turned to Reynald. “Be well—I want you to promise me.”
He sounded awkward. “I’m doing my best. I wish you could stay.”
“The Ildiran medical kith continue to research, but I will also contact my sister Tamo’l. Maybe she can find some way to treat your sickness.”
Reyn let out a sigh. “I appreciate that, but there are many diseases, many sick people. It’s not fair to the rest of them to expend so much effort on me.”
“It is not about being fair. It is about you, and I care about you.”
She wasn’t sure which of them moved first, but Osira’h was holding him, and Reyn wrapped his arms around her to hold her in return. She could sense the Ildiran entourage and the Mage-Imperator watching them, but she didn’t care. Muree’n seemed puzzled at their show of affection, as if she hadn’t even considered the possibility of a relationship between the two of them.
“I will see you again, Reynald of Theroc,” Osira’h said.
“As soon as possible,” he answered.