“Well, I suppose that means goodbye to our fees.” Itzen came up behind him once the boy had gone, slipping his arms around Ginglen’s waist and resting his chin on Ginglen’s shoulder. Ginglen laid one hand on his husband’s arm, and reached up to pat his cheek with the other.
“Practitioner Lowens paid us four days in advance, so we’re actually still a day to the good. Though I wasn’t obliged to tell the White Court that.” He sighed. “We’d be in her debt anyway, you know that.”
“What do you think this is all about?” Itzen followed Ginglen into their private rooms, a small suite off to the left of the entrance hall. “Think it might be . . .” he tilted his head in the direction of the stables, “Chispa’s niece?”
“I’d guess not, since we weren’t asked to come along as well.”
Itzen took the authorization from him, and whistled when he read it. “Santaron Metenari, no less. The newest member of the White Court council. Soon to be the next Headmaster, they say.”
Ginglen turned to look his partner in the face. Itzen was perfectly serious. “I don’t like this, I don’t like it at all.”
“They have the authority, you couldn’t refuse.” Itzen rested his hands on Ginglen’s shoulders and gave him a little shake.
“I know, I know. The White Court is getting more and more high-handed and it’s giving me a bad feeling.”
“We could throw ourselves on the protection of the Red Court.”
Ginglen felt a little better once they’d finished laughing.
Five
Arlyn
I COULDN’T FEEL MY hands and feet; sounds were far away. Had to be shock. Elva should be dead. Long dead. The tone of his voice when he told me not to touch him, like a punch to the gut. The stony look on Fenra’s face. How could I have been so stupid? How did it never occur to me—I swallowed over and over. I thought I was going to vomit. I examined her face for understanding, for sympathy, didn’t see any. Somehow that strengthened me. Straightened my back, squared my shoulders. I pushed my hair back off my face.
“Who am I kidding?” I said. “If I’d known ahead of time that losing Elva was the price I had to pay for sealing away the Godstone, I’d have paid it gladly. There are more important things than one person. Elva would have said the same.”
Fenra coughed again, as if the muscles of her throat were tight. “How long has he been here?” She unwrapped her cravat from her head, smoothed out the material and tied it around her throat, regardless of the heat. She wouldn’t meet my eyes. I couldn’t blame her.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I’m not even sure how much time has passed in our dimension.” I rubbed at my eyes. “There’s a lot I don’t remember.” I watched her process this information.
“Long enough that you did not expect to find him here,” she said finally. “Otherwise you would have warned me about him before we got this far.” She took in a deep breath. “Well, at least he is going to help us. Even if he will not forgive you.”
Another blow. How real that sounded, coming from Fenra’s mouth. “I don’t know what he’s feeling.”
“Do not be ridiculous. Of course you do. And if you are in any doubt, I can tell you.”
I pressed my lips together, looked away.
The door opened. Elva stepped back into the room. He now had a sword belt slung around his hips, a blade I didn’t recognize hanging from it. He used to carry a single pistol on his right hip; now he wore a double holster, with a pistol under each arm, a make I’d never seen before. Over his left arm he carried a dark red cloak. I wondered whether he’d chosen the color so as not to show blood. He glanced once at me before settling his attention on Fenra. From the set of his shoulders, he felt at ease with her. There was something in her he recognized, and trusted.
“If you are ready, Practitioner Lowens.”
Without another word Fenra stood, dusted down her trousers, followed Elva out of the room. On the street outside were three horses, saddled, with packs and canteens. Elva immediately mounted the large black beast on the left. Fenra approached a smaller gray animal, making sure to let it see her before she caressed its head, murmuring to it. Elva watched her from the back of his own mount, his expression soft, almost smiling.
This left a chocolate brown animal which paid me no attention whatsoever when I hauled myself into the saddle, though it shifted its feet as I settled myself.
Elva nodded at a thin, hatless man leaning against the outer doorframe of the sheriff’s office. The man nodded back, touching an index finger to his forehead.
“Is it very far?” Fenra said as the horses moved forward. “It’s just that except for those biscuits I have not eaten in almost a day, and if my power is needed . . .” She fell silent when Elva shook his head.
“About an hour’s ride,” he said. “You’ll find dried meat and fruits in the right-hand saddlebag, hard cheese and road bread in the left. Water in the canteen.”
At first we rode single file with Elva in the lead, Fenra next. Once out of the town proper, Elva slowed enough that he rode at her side. When I tried to join them he clicked his tongue, and my horse fell in behind them again, ignoring any further instruction from me.
He should let me explain, I thought, my lips pressed tight. This wasn’t fair. I knew he’d understand if he’d only listen. It wouldn’t change his situation, but he’d be happier with me. Anyone else would have been demanding an explanation—why wasn’t he?
“Elva!” I called. I can’t say that he stiffened, but he definitely sat up straighter.
“Arlyn, stop.” Fenra spoke quietly, but she flicked her fingers at me.
She didn’t need to do that. I would have stayed quiet if she’d just asked me to.
* * *
Fenra
Any other time the surprise on the sheriff’s face when Arlyn actually stayed quiet would have been funny. Right now, the roiling of my stomach prevented my feeling amused. I wrapped the piece of road bread I had been nibbling back into its waxed paper. An unfamiliar sharp and bitter taste that caught at the back of my throat lurked somewhere among the nuts and dried fruits.
“How did you do that?” he asked.
“I am a practitioner,” I reminded him.
“He’s a practitioner.” After the first time, the sheriff had not called Arlyn by name—either of them.
“Not anymore. He has no power, he cannot function as a practitioner.”
“Did he tell you that?” Incredulity underlined with bitterness. “And you believed him?”
I shrugged. “He told me he left you here. Was he lying about that?”
“He told you? That’s a surprise. He never liked people to know when he was in the wrong. Did he tell you about the Godstone? Ah, I see he did. The lengths his ‘curiosity’—huh.” Elvanyn swung his head from side to side. “Arrogance is the real word. When he wouldn’t listen, I told him I’d go to the council.” He waved around us. “This is where I went instead.”
“He learned you were right, but sealing away the Godstone took all his power. He could not come back for you.”
“And he’s told you that as well, I suppose? No, don’t.” He cut the air between us with his hand. “I know how charming he can be. He could persuade a bee to leave a flower. Look, if what he says about his power is true, why didn’t he ask someone else to help him? Didn’t want to admit he’d made a mistake? Wait, oh, that’s right, he’d be that arrogant.”
I did not want to tell Karamisk that I had asked Arlyn that myself. I wondered if I should tell him about the lowness. Not my secret to tell, I decided finally.
“Sheriff Karamisk,” I began.
“Elvanyn. Call me Elvanyn. Or Elva.” His smile only reached his eyes for a moment, and he seemed again the light-hearted man I had first met. Almost.
“Then I am Fenra,” I said. “I have had similar thoughts myself, but not
speaking to him now may be a bad strategy.” They both needed to be shut of this.
This time Elvanyn shook his head while staring at the sky. “My head’s spinning like I don’t know which way is up. I’ve been here such a long time . . . At first I was so angry. And hurt. And frightened. If he’d come back in the first few months, even in the first few years, I probably would have done my best to kill him. Only he didn’t come back. And . . .” His voice died away.
“A person cannot stay angry indefinitely,” I put in.
“Exactly. Though it’s hard to remember that right now.” He switched his reins from one hand to the other. The horse took no notice. “When I realized I wasn’t aging, I was happy, thinking I’d still be here if he came back. Then I was horrified, at the thought that he might not.” He quirked up an eyebrow, whistled without making a sound. “Some days I’m still not sure. But I’ve made a new life here. I’ve done well.” He gave me a twisted grin. “There are others, not like me, but they age very slowly. We have to move along before people notice, but gunslingers travel, so no one’s surprised.”
We rode a while in silence. “So,” he said finally, “you’re saying that he came to his senses in time, and used all his power to lock the Godstone away?”
“Yes.”
“Is it true? That he has no power? Can you tell?”
“I have spent most of my life working as a healer. That is a mistake I could not make.” I shrugged again. “But I only know Arlyn. Xandra Albainil is someone I have never met.” And I do not think I want to, I said only to myself.
Elvanyn was silent for a long time. “I’m coming back with you.”
This left me speechless. “But your life here?” I finally managed to say.
“Even if he has no power, it doesn’t mean he isn’t dangerous. You think you can trust him? You can’t. He’s using you right now, isn’t he? What if he has a plan to take your power from you?” I opened my mouth to protest, but Arlyn was using me, that much was true. “Or maybe he thinks he can get his own power back from the Godstone—again with your help,” Elvanyn continued. “You can’t be sure—what if he’s more Xandra than you think? His arrogance—his carelessness—exiled me, and if there was anyone he loved in the world, I was that person. If he could make the Godstone in the first place—”
“What?”
“Ah, so there’s something he didn’t tell you? No, I see from your face he didn’t.” Elvanyn’s crooked lips said “I thought so” as loudly as if he had spoken.
No, Arlyn had not told me. I thought he had found it. I pressed my lips together. He had said he could not remember everything, but surely this was not something he could have forgotten. He had chosen not to tell me.
Just as he had chosen to seal the Godstone away. I had to believe that the Arlyn I knew was not the man who had made the artifact in the first place. Not the one who had deserted his best friend.
“The Godstone is in his vault,” I pointed out. “When he found he could not destroy it, he sealed it away.” I clung to my conviction. I had to.
“Or when he found he couldn’t use it in the way that he expected.”
I drew in a breath through my nose. “I must trust my own instincts,” I said as firmly as I could. “What can I do to convince you Arlyn is a changed man?”
“Nothing comes to mind.”
Movement drew my eyes upward. I saw the uneven ‘v’ of a flight of geese. Was it autumn here, or spring? “No offense, Elvanyn, but if what you say is true, what can you do this time, that you were not able to do before?” He was quiet long enough for me to think that I had offended him.
“Of course I couldn’t stop him then. A guard lieutenant against the most powerful practitioner? I was here before I knew it. Now, if what you say is true, he can’t do that again. But he’s up to something, he always is, and you need an ally, whether you know it or not. I’m coming.” That was the tone of a stubborn man who has made up his mind. I felt an unexpected sense of relief.
“You put your trust in me so quickly?” I knew that if I smiled I would definitely offend him.
“Am I wrong?” This time his smile was warm and genuine.
We rode a while longer in silence, though Elvanyn remained at my side. When I looked over my shoulder I saw Arlyn slumped in his saddle, his eyes closed. I felt an almost overwhelming wave of exhaustion sweep through me.
Elvanyn tapped me on the thigh and pointed to my right-hand saddlebag when I looked at him. “Eat something,” he said. He was right. Not the bread though, my stomach still rebelled against that. But dried plums and dried apples were the same in both dimensions, it turned out.
What would I be able to do, even if we found the right spot? Could I open this gate? Where would it take us? I looked back again. I was reluctant to wake Arlyn just to ask him. We had no other option, and I would know soon enough.
* * *
Arlyn
I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep until the horse stopped moving. We’d left the road while I napped, and come cross-country several miles, as far as I could judge. Nothing looked familiar. There were hills around us now, thick with trees and underbrush, though the trail we followed showed regular use. I tried to examine the ground more closely; my horse snorted at me, wriggled until I sat straight again. Not all the hoofmarks I saw belonged to horses.
Finally Elva called a halt, dismounting. Fenra followed him, favoring her bad leg while Elva looked on with concern. He knew better than to offer a practitioner his help. Neither of them noticed me clinging to the saddle when my legs threatened to give out under me. My horse looked around at me, showed me his teeth.
“We’ll leave the horses here,” Elva said, shifting canteen and pack from the animal’s rump to his own shoulder. I did the same with mine before he asked. That would surprise him.
Fenra shot him a look I was familiar with and stopped massaging her knee. “They are worried about their safety.”
Elva looked from her to the horses and back again. “They can’t come with us, the trail’s too rough. And they’ve always been safe before.”
“Perhaps so.” Fenra began picking up small stones, a few twigs. “But they have not felt safe. I will make a ward for them. It will only take a moment.”
“You must have a very strong connection to know what they’re feeling.”
Fenra set down the last twig and dusted off her hands. “They are real to me in the same way you are.”
Elva held out both hands, palms outward, and smiled. “No offense. Anyone who doesn’t respect an animal that helps keep him alive is an idiot.”
I dusted off my trousers and joined them. “How long a walk have we?”
“Not long.” Elva answered me, but looked at Fenra. I told myself he was worried about her leg. We should have asked for a cane while we were still in town. Without discussion Elva and I divvied the load from Fenra’s packs between us, leaving her unburdened. She walked with her hand on my shoulder, and I felt a part of me relax. As usual, once we were moving, she seemed to have no trouble with her leg at all.
Elva was right, however. Not more than a mile later we passed through a rocky ravine that showed signs of spring runoff. Soon it leveled out, plants and trees put in an appearance, and we found ourselves in a clearing. Someone had been keeping the area cleared, not obviously, but the signs were there if you knew how to look.
Frowning, Elva turned slowly, until he was facing the sun. “Here,” he said, spreading his hands before him. “This was my entry point.”
“The sun would be in a different orientation at a different time of day,” Fenra pointed out before I could.
“That’s why I’m not using only the position of the sun.” Elva kicked some growth out of his way and sat down on a rock jutting out from behind a bush. He set his hands on his knees and looked for the first time at both of us. “This is what I first saw.” He gestured
behind us. “There’s been some changes, of course, young trees have grown larger, and others have fallen and rotted away. But I’ve kept this rock clear of growth, and it’s exactly where it’s always been. I tripped over it when I arrived.” He patted it as though it was a favorite dog.
“Can you clear this growth away, Fenra? I’ll need a spot to write my pattern.”
“I have paper.” Elva patted his pockets, stopped when Fenra shook her head.
“I believe we will need something very much larger.” She looked at me; I nodded. “I think there is something I could do. Arlyn, how big a clear spot do you need?”
“From that poplar to the rock, from that shaggy bush to this sapling.”
She paced out the area I’d indicated, stepped into the center, crouched down on her heels. She rubbed her hands as if to clean off her palms, pressed her hands together, pulled them apart slowly. A glow formed between her two hands, instead of the lines of light I was expecting. Elva stared at her with narrowed eyes, trying to see what only a practitioner could see. I remembered that whenever I could, I used to explain to him what was happening as I was doing it, the changes as we traveled from Mode to Mode. Not now. Fenra couldn’t be distracted. Besides, Elva wasn’t listening to me anymore.
Fenra placed her hands palms down on the ground. The glow seeped out of her hands and spread over the area we needed before sinking into the ground. Her lips moved, but she wasn’t speaking aloud.
“She’s singing.”
I glanced at Elva, but he wasn’t talking to me, just thinking out loud. I considered Fenra again, took into account her facial expressions and how her breathing moved, realized he was right. She was singing, but not for us to hear. She stroked the plants, singing directly to them. Kneeling now, she sat back on her heels, rested her hands on her thighs.
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