OF those in the room, Philip was the only one to witness the light that briefly touched Zara just before her eyes opened and she took that deep, unsteady breath. He’d heard stories of other gods but never believed them. Watching Zara sit upright without aid when she should be dead, he realized he needed to re-evaluate his understanding of the world beyond.
“Tarsius.” Philip laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder.
Tarsius opened his eyes and straightened his shoulders to look up at him, his gaze skidding to a halt on Zara.
She smiled slightly.
“Zara.” Tarsius surged to his feet, drawing her into his arms, mindless of the water soaking his clothes. She submitted to his enthusiastic embrace.
Everyone rose.
Tarsius drew back with obvious reluctance. Camilla and Shin’til embraced Zara in turn.
This family truly cares for one another. Philip watched them embrace each other and Zara in relief and joy. They had accepted a thief in their midst. He suspected they would die for one another and felt a fleeting touch of envy. His family would never go out on a limb for one another, much less risk life and their twisted form of happiness for each other. “I need some air.”
Tarsius nodded.
“Go with him, Tarsius,” Camilla ordered gently. “Zara needs to change clothes.”
Philip didn’t linger, to see if Tarsius broke away. He retrieved his cloak from an acolyte in the foyer and went straight out the front door. He huddled on the front steps, wrapped in the thick woolen cloak. A cold breeze blew across the snow-covered compound, kicking up the ends of the garment. He shivered but not from the cold. The door opened behind him. He glanced back.
Tarsius emerged, tossing a cloak about his shoulders.
They stood in silence for a time. The other-gods issue, he wasn’t ready to discuss. The other issue, Zara, was safe. “I can’t rid my mind of the look in Zara’s eyes before she ran.”
Tarsius’ expression turned guarded. “She was afraid. Not her doing.”
“It wasn’t fear. That is what concerns me.” His gaze went across the compound. “Good sense says forget it ever happened and keep my mouth shut. Another part says I can’t walk away with this on my mind.”
“What did you see that bothers you so?”
“Desire.” The word was just a whisper. Philip studied his friend.
Tarsius didn’t look as shocked as he’d expected.
“I’ve known that look in a woman’s eyes” —he smiled without mirth— “ever since I understood what a woman was capable of giving me. I don’t understand why attraction to you would frighten her so.”
“Zara is as multi-faceted as a gemstone, and just as precious.” A sad smile touched Tarsius’ face. His gaze skipped away.
Philip found that highly unusual and waited.
“She loves another, and her desire for me was a betrayal of that.”
“Who is he?”
“It is a very long story, my friend. We are both exhausted. Perhaps it should wait for another day.” He moved away, hesitating with his hand on the door. “And someplace warmer.” He grinned.
“I’ll hold you to that.” Philip joined him.
“You are a good man. I count myself fortunate to call you friend.” He dropped a companionable hand on Philip’s shoulder.
Philip snorted, shook his head, and stepped away. “If you truly feel that way, then you don’t know me as well as you think.”
Tarsius shook his head. “My opinion of you has not changed in all the time I have known you.” He laughed lightly. “In fact, the longer I know you, the better I think of you.”
“Sometimes I think I get much more out of this friendship than you ever will. I’m a selfish bastard, and I know it. I don’t understand why you put up with me, and you always come back for more of the same.”
“Perhaps you are what you say.” Tarsius’ smile turned teasing.
Philip grinned back.
“But I get far more from this friendship than you will probably ever realize. Of all the people who have touched my life, only you have never asked me to be something or someone I was never intended to be.”
“It’s cold out here. Perhaps we should go in,” Philip noted, changing the subject. They were treading emotional ground. Time to change directions.
“As you wish, my friend.” Tarsius went along with the shift in topic. His grin faded when he opened the door and they walked right into his father.
“What is he doing here?”
“He is here by my wishes.” Tarsius’ gaze was direct and steady. “Warriors of Tu’mui are not our enemy. He is a friend.”
“Are you certain of that, my son?”
“Yes, Father, I am.”
“I sincerely pray you’re right.” Skarahl studied Philip for a moment, nodded to Tarsius, and disappeared down one of the hallways.
“He doesn’t seem nearly as difficult as I imagined him to be,” Philip admitted with a puzzled frown, watching the man’s unhurried retreat.
“He is changing.”
“People say that change can be good.”
“Yes, they do.”
* * *
“You completely fouled that up.” Ray’din glared at the beautiful woman in sheer attire. “Things are worse than ever.”
Eroshia glared back, unruffled by his ire. “I almost had her. Another few seconds and she’d be dead.”
“But, she isn’t. You failed miserably.” Distant screams of agony and torment seemed almost to answer his words. Another’s misery did little to cheer him as it usually did. In fact, it had the opposite effect. He glared into the distance. “Shut up, Marcon.” Screams fell silent, stifled rather than an end to the assassin’s pain.
“That dog and that meddling soldier. We must do something about them.”
“Neither of us has been able to touch the soldier.” He advanced toward her.
“Will you torture me for failure as you do that mortal?” She changed the subject, her challenge turning to something more than anger. A fire started in her eyes.
Ray’din stilled, watching it build. A smile crossed her face. She stepped to him, touching his face with a small hand.
“If I could.”
“Do your best.”
* * *
Trace hesitated in the hallway, the open door looming before him. Was he doing the right thing? Many years had passed since he’d last stood here. He’d never expected to return, but Zara had drawn him back.
He was still hesitant about learning under another Doro’esch. It would require great trust to open his mind, his life, to someone else, but he’d missed so much by remaining distant from the man who could teach him to use a long neglected talent. He’d ignored it long enough.
Resolute, he straightened his shoulders, stepped forward and knocked soundly on the doorframe.
* * *
Zara rested in her room, watching people pass the open door. Though Sear’dan had restored her health, he hadn’t entirely restored her strength. She closed her eyes, more than a little afraid to sleep lest the dreams return. She rolled onto her back and raised her hands. They were scarred from the ice, but Camilla assured her they would heal.
“Ah, Zara, you’re awake. I hoped to speak with you today.” Master Ka’lema shuffled into the room, his cane tapping the floor.
Zara dropped her hands to her chest and watched his approach. He eased his hunched frame into a chair, wincing slightly. Even in rest, his robes swirled with a rainbow of colors, seeming to have a life of their own. She watched them.
“Someone visited me earlier today. Trace Tyler. A fascinating young man. He had a rather interesting story to tell. It seems a certain young woman used an intriguing bit of illusory skill to defeat a prominent assassin.” His eyes held hers. “Convinced herself that cage bars weren’t real, he said.”
She smiled slightly but said nothing.
“Imagine my disappointment when I couldn’t proudly declare her my student.” He shook his head with a sigh. His gaze grew serious and a little sad. “My offer still stands. I’m old and failing in health. I fear I may die before I can teach everything you must know, but I have no desire to die without passing along my knowledge and skills. Based on what I’ve seen and heard, I know you would learn well and do me proud. I have no children of my own. I’ve spent my life learning. Besides, it would do no good if I had slowed down long enough to have a family. Such abilities are not usually passed to our children, so I would still need a student.”
She frowned, wondering where the abilities came from if not the parents.
Master Ka’lema frowned, seeming to sense her thoughts. “What of your world? Do your children inherit illusory ability?”
“Yes.”
“Hm.” He seemed to consider that carefully. “Your mother was a master?”
She nodded.
“This is most remarkable. Well, be that as it may.” He waved a hand as though shooing a fly away. “I hope you will allow me to pass my knowledge to you.”
He rose unsteadily and leaned heavily on his cane. A hand pressed to the small of his back, rubbing it. He grimaced then smiled, shaking his head. “Ah, the banes of old age.”
His cane tapped down the hallway until the sound of it could no longer be heard.
Zara slept, Jerrod at her side, Vil’joh close.
* * *
U’uskoh laughed, blue eyes sparkling and bright. Zara smiled and ducked her head, a bit embarrassed. It was pretty funny, even if she didn’t say as much. She really needed to think about what she said before she said it.
Zara stirred slightly, trying to recall what the conversation had been about. The exact context eluded her, but the memory of U’uskoh’s patient amusement was strong. She reached out, seeking his warmth. A cold pillow met her exploring fingers.
Coming fully awake, she searched for him. Reality hit with the force of a two-handed sword. She remembered where she was, and U’uskoh was not with her. Sorrow resurfaced, doubling her over on the bed.
How was she supposed to live without him? What was she to do with her life? He had given her life direction and purpose. Would she stop missing him? Stop loving him? Forget him over time? That only intensified the ache. She wanted to scream into the night, but she huddled into herself, holding the pain close.
“You need not forget.” Vil’joh’s voice pierced the darkness, a reminder that she wasn’t alone.
“What can I do?”
“Remember,” he said as though the answer was obvious.
“How?”
He made no response.