The door to her sitting room opened. “Suri, you have to listen to me.”
“Go away!”
“This is important.” Jarrick closed the door and knelt beside the couch. “I have to tell you.”
There was a curious excitement in his expression that stopped her. She hadn’t seen him quite like this before. “Tell me what?”
“Suri, while I was in Alham, I—”
She gasped. “You found him,” she breathed. “You found him?”
He nodded intently. “I did.”
She threw her arms around him. “Where is he? Is he safe? What’s he doing? How did he get to Alham? When is he coming?”
“Easy, easy.” He gently removed her arms so that he could hold her eyes. “I found him wholly by accident. He was with the man I went to see. It was complicated, but—but in the end, he came back with me.”
“He’s here?” Her voice was too loud, and she clapped a hand over her mouth. “He’s here? Where?”
“Near Abbar. Isen’s house. Hush! No one else knows, you understand? Not even Isen. He thinks he’s just a friend.”
“Let’s go! I’ll get my—”
“Sara, listen.” He was having trouble choosing his words. “Suri... It’s been three years. And while you and I have been living here, living like this—he’s been a slave, Suri. Not a clerk at a desk, but a working slave.”
Slow horror crept over her. What was he trying to tell her? “Like Han?”
“Like Andrew, the other one I brought back. He knew him. Like—like the dock slaves.”
She recoiled. “Not Luca...”
He clasped her hands. “If we go, you have to be prepared. He won’t laugh and hug you, Suri. He was afraid to come here, afraid of Father and Thir and all of us. Do you understand?”
No, she didn’t understand. Understanding lay in a great black crevasse which threatened to engulf her if she leaned to peer into it. She didn’t understand... But she clenched her jaw and said, “I want to see him.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
ARIANA WOKE, HEART racing, and stared into the darkness. But it was wrong—her bed was wrong, the sound of her breath was wrong, it was—
No, she was in her father’s workroom, she remembered. Already the dream was slipping away, leaving only its unrest and breathlessness and exhaustion.
Ariana pushed herself upright and muttered into the darkness, regretting the lack of window in her father’s workroom. That was to the benefit of his experiments, his privacy, and the current welfare of Tamaryl, but it made spending the night inconvenient. She fumbled after a candle, wondering if she would be able to light it without a firesteel.
“Good morning, my lady,” came a voice through the dark.
She nearly dropped the unlit candle, grasping for magic with the other hand. “Who’s there?”
“Don’t you know me? Don’t tell me I look as awful as I feel.”
Relief ran through her. “Tam?” She lit the candle—with her will—and hurried toward him. “Tamaryl, how are you? Will you be all right? Why are you here?”
“One moment. Help me to sit up, please.” He clung weakly to her arm and tried to push himself to lean against the wall. He looked at her and smiled thinly, breathless with effort. “Isn’t this ironic?”
“I’d thought of that.” Ariana heard the outer door close. “There’s Father.”
“Good, he will have the best chance of knowing.” He bent his neck and slowly, carefully, stretched his wings. “Ouch.”
“What’s wrong? Are they damaged?”
He chuckled. “No, no. Only, trust a human not to know how to lay someone on his own wings.”
“I’m sorry, it didn’t come naturally to me,” said Hazelrig as he came through the door. He closed it behind him and immediately crossed to Tamaryl, embracing him gently. “Welcome, my friend. I am so glad to see you awake.” He released him. “You worried us. We’ve been taking turns to sleep here with you.”
“That long?” Tamaryl looked distressed.
“Why did you come?” Ariana asked again. “You could have died! Did something happen there?”
“Not exactly,” he answered. “I came to find Maru.”
“Maru? But, he’s there. Isn’t he? We left him there.”
“So we did. But he—Maru came back here, to the human world.”
“What? How?” Ariana shook her head. “The shield nearly killed you, and Maru couldn’t withstand more, could he?”
Tamaryl looked unhappy.
It was Ewan Hazelrig who answered, with a resigned tone. “Unless he carried something to negate the shield’s energy.”
Tamaryl turned, and for the first time she could remember, Ariana thought he looked afraid to face her father. “You know?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t. But I’ve been looking for the chipped-off bit of the Shard, asking if anyone had borrowed it. No one had. And we’re receiving reports of Ryuven raiding parties.” His expression was pained. “I thought you wanted the shield as much as we did. You helped to develop it. I thought you wanted to end the war.”
Tamaryl’s eyes fell to his lap. “I did. I do. But—but I hadn’t seen, not until I went back with Ariana, how bad it’s become.” He looked at Ariana, as if hoping for her confirmation. “The crops are failing worse than before. My people are starving. This war may have started as much for prestige and profit as for food, but now it’s for food. There is a chance we can save our crops, and I still hope for that. But in the meantime, we need the resources your countryside can offer.”
Ewan Hazelrig held his eyes. “So you stole the chip, so that you could continue the raids even through the shield.”
Ariana’s fingernails dug into her palms. Tamaryl—but he couldn’t. Not Tamaryl, not the sweet boy she knew, not the brave man who had carried her to his world to save her life and then carried her back at his own risk. Not Tamaryl, who had fought so hard to create and protect the shield to end their war.
In your world, my lady, I would obey you. But here, I am Pairvyn ni’Ai.
“Oh, Tamaryl,” she breathed, and he flinched under her disappointment.
“So where is Maru now?” asked her father, pragmatic as ever.
Tamaryl nodded. “A few nim were entrusted to retrieve supplies. No sho, few che.”
“So we would not sense the more powerful Ryuven as they crossed.”
“And to prevent larger conflicts! If they were not here for you to sense, there would be no mages and soldiers to wage battle against the sho, and no sho to wreak more harm during the raids.”
“Only our common people would be harmed.”
“My common people are dying.” Tamaryl’s face was conflicted and ashamed, but his voice was firm.
There was a moment of cold silence, and Ariana at last prompted, “What happened to Maru?”
Tamaryl seemed to refocus. “But this last time, the group was broken apart, and the two who returned did not bring Maru with them.”
“And so you came to find him.”
Tamaryl nodded. “He could not have leapt home alone through the shield.”
“And then you’ll carry him across the shield like this?” Ewan gestured to Tamaryl’s fractured body. “You’d kill him.”
Tamaryl’s mouth tightened but he answered, “I would not abandon him here. I would find a way.”
Hazelrig softened his tone. “And if he died in the fighting?”
“Then I will learn what happened to him.” Tamaryl turned back to Ariana. “But that is not certain. He could have run away, could have hidden. He could have been taken prisoner.”
Ariana thought of Shianan’s reports of Ryuven raids. The commander had never mentioned prisoners.
It was too easy for Tamaryl to read that she had no hope for him. He turned to the White Mage. “Nor even you? You didn’t fight him?”
He shook his head slowly.
Tamaryl’s hopeful, desperate face fell. “Oh. I—I see.”
Hazelrig p
ut a hand on the Ryuven’s shoulder, and he hesitated before speaking. His words weren’t the saddened consolation Ariana expected. “There is one possibility.”
Tamaryl seized on this, but cautiously, fearful of disappointment. “Where? How?”
“I will undertake to look for him—”
“Would another mage have helped him?”
“Not as we did you, hiding you in another, less vulnerable form.” Hazelrig looked uncomfortable. “Ariana, would you bring something for him to drink? He’s had only soup these past days.”
Ariana kept her eyes on her father as she reached to the watered wine on the next table. She poured some and set the cup down, holding his gaze and daring him to send her away again.
He relented. “I will tell you both, but I ask that you pledge your silence. There are very few who know this, and it was my hope that neither of you would ever be among them.”
Ariana leaned on the table beside Tamaryl.
“No matter what you think, what you feel,” her father continued, “you must be silent on this. It is a secret of the Circle.”
“But I’m a part of the Circle now,” Ariana protested.
“Oh, Ariana.” Her father laughed mirthlessly. “There are circles within circles.” He looked at each of them. “Swear for me.”
Ariana felt unsettled but slightly excited at the prospect of secret knowledge, and a little guilty at her excitement in the face of Maru’s disappearance. “I swear, I’ll say nothing.”
“Thank you.” He looked at Tamaryl. “This will be more difficult for you. If you prefer not to give me your word, you may take mine that I will search for your friend on your behalf.”
Tamaryl took a slow breath. “You have never given me reason to distrust you, my lord mage. I will trust you further and pledge my silence.”
Hazelrig nodded unhappily. “I hope you do not regret that.” He sighed again and drew a chair toward the table. “The war has been devastating to your people and ours. Especially since Luenda, you know we have been trying to find a way to end it in whatever way we could.”
Tamaryl nodded. “The shield.”
“Not just the shield, though that was a part of it.” Hazelrig folded his fingers together uncomfortably. “Offensive magics as well.”
Tamaryl and Ariana exchanged glances. This was not new to them. What was he trying to say?
“Test subjects were needed. How could we devise a shield to repel a Ryuven heart unless we had a Ryuven heart?” He looked at them pleadingly. “Do you understand? We needed Ryuven blood to work the spell to create the shield.”
“You said the Ryuven blood was from Luenda,” Tamaryl protested.
Hazelrig bowed his head. “I did not actually say that. I allowed you to believe it. I’m sorry.”
Ariana stared at him. “But that’s what we thought, too. All of us.”
“Most of you,” he corrected. “There are a few in the Circle who know that some Ryuven prisoners are kept below the Naziar.”
Tamaryl tensed against the wall, his wings shifting. “Prisoners?”
“Only a few. We did not want or need many, and no one wanted the people to fear what was in the cells.” He bowed his head. “I’m sorry, Tamaryl. I did not want to deceive you, but you can see... I had been sworn to that secret long before we met. And it would only have upset you to know.”
“And that gave you leave to imprison my people?” Tamaryl demanded in a choked tone. “To use them?”
“It was war, my friend,” Hazelrig reminded him. “Your people took prisoners as well.”
“How—how many times...” Tamaryl shifted on the table, trying to push himself higher. “You were my friend!”
Hazelrig sagged in his chair. “I am sorry, Tamaryl. I truly am sorry.”
“How could you do this?”
Hazelrig raised his head. “Your people took human prisoners, at Luenda and since. Did you release them when you took Ariana to your world? Have you returned them to us since?”
Tamaryl hesitated. “I had no authority...”
“No mage ever taken by your people has been returned, Tamaryl, not by goodwill, barter, or treaty. Is that so different?”
“Mages die,” Tamaryl muttered bitterly. “We would not return corpses.”
“Then why did you take them?” demanded Hazelrig with a pained tone. “Only to let them die?”
“They could be questioned!” snapped Tamaryl. “And those who died in our world would not kill us later!”
“And the others? The soldiers, those who weren’t mages?”
“All right!” Tamaryl’s voice broke. “Yes, it was war, I agree. We are all at fault. I understand that. But how can you ask me to know they are here and not to act? They are my people nonetheless! Could you sit in my residence and not move to help your human soldiers?” His wings snapped against the wall. “What if one might be your oldest friend?”
“We will find if Maru is among them,” Hazelrig promised. “If he is, I swear to you that somehow he will be freed.”
Ariana clenched her fists. “Maru took care of me, Father. He watched me and sat with me while I was ill, while Tamaryl was away.”
“I will do all I can for Maru, my dear. Believe me. But you two must trust me. There are only a few who know of the prisoners, but all of them are powerful. Tamaryl could not go before Oniwe’aru and demand the release of all human captives, nor can I free all the Ryuven. We must go carefully.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
SARA SHIFTED IN HER seat—carefully, so as not to affect the litter bearers—and began to toy with a strand of hair in place of picking at the thread on the seat cushion. The climb to Falten Isen’s house was far too long for her anticipation.
That morning, Jarrick had announced he had a meeting in Abbar, and Sara had casually mentioned she would go with him to shop in the village. Jarrick had insisted they not tell their father or Thir about Luca, not yet.
She leaned to look out the window, trying to see the house, and felt the litter dip as one of the bearers did not adjust quickly enough for the weight shift. “Sorry,” she called. “But can’t we go just a little faster?”
“We’re climbing a mountain, Suri,” came Jarrick’s gentle chiding. He dropped back beside the litter so he could smile at her. “Be patient a little longer; we’ll get there.”
“I feel I could run up this mountain.”
“And ruin your complexion for your wedding?” He grinned. “Only a few minutes more.”
He was right; she could see Isen’s house after the next bend. She drummed her fingers nervously and imagined, for the hundredth time. “Luca!” she would cry as she entered.
He would look up from his book—of course he would be reading, he was always reading—and his face would light at seeing her. He would stand, but she would already be reaching him, throwing her arms about him and hugging him close, so close that he could not slip away again, and he would hold her tightly and say, “I missed you, little sister,” and she might cry...
They were nearly at the gate. Only a few minutes more.
THERE WAS A TINY WRINKLE in the sheet below Luca’s cheek, but he could not be bothered to shift for it. As he had hesitated that morning, wondering whether he would ask her after all, Marla had, with her basket of oils and salves, matter-of-factly asked if he would have his massage in the room or on the roof. He had now been facedown on the narrow bench long enough that she had worked nearly to his toes, soothing pains he hadn’t even been aware of until she began coaxing them out, feeling world and worries slip to a distant, negligible memory.
Now she was rubbing firmly at right angles to the stripes on his back, doing something she’d explained would reduce the scarring. He didn’t quite understand, but he had no reason to protest. Her touch was warm, reassuring, comforting, and the soothing of his tense muscles seemed to peel away some of the shame he carried.
A bell chimed distantly, and the steady pressure slowed. A moment later it chimed again, and her h
ands paused. “One moment, my lord. Stay in the sun. I’ll return quickly.”
“Mmn,” he agreed. The sunlight was warm across his back and legs, bare for her work. He sighed comfortably and slipped back to the hazy consciousness of near-sleep.
JARRICK RANG THE BELL three times before someone opened the small grate. “I was on the roof, my lord, I’m sorry,” said the woman who looked through at them.
“I’m Jarrick Roald, you’ll remember. We’re here to see Luca.”
“My lord?”
“Dom! Dom Nerrin.” He chastised himself for the slip. “I brought him here with your master.”
The servant opened the gate. “Of course. Please come inside.”
Sara hardly waited for the litter to settle on the tiles before leaving it. “Where is he?”
“My lady, I—”
“Where is he?” she repeated excitedly.
“On the roof, my lady, but if you—”
Sara was already running, handfuls of skirt gathered out of her way. Behind her Marla started forward. “My lady! Please!”
But Jarrick was faster, and he reached the stairs before Marla, inadvertently blocking her as he hurried after Sara. Marla hurried after them. “But, my lord, wait!”
LUCA HEARD DISTANT voices, but they seemed a part of the little world which did not concern him, far as it was from the blissful sunlight. He felt himself sinking through the padded bench into a pleasantly dark sleep...
“Luca!”
The voice ripped through his stupor and tore at him. He twitched and tried to rise, but his mind responded more quickly than his muscles.
“Luca, I’m—” Her voice cut off abruptly.
He seized handfuls of the sheet and rolled off the bench, stumbling as he hit the floor. He pulled the sheet to shield himself and stared at her.
Sara had frozen mid-syllable, her mouth hanging uncertainly. She had seen. She was completely stunned.
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