Peri felt no answering levity. Her fingertips traced the scar again. There was a faint coldness within her, a memory of darkness.
It is a test that leaves its mark upon the spirit even more than the body.
“The temple?” she asked slowly, trying to distract herself. “We did it, didn’t we? Raised Eregis?”
“Yes.” The humor was gone from Atheris’s voice, and Peri felt him tremble against her. He was silent for a long moment.
“We raised the greatest power I have ever touched,” he said at last. “We brought it bursting up out of the earth. And once it was freed—the rain, it almost came of itself. The force of the explosion, the shaking of the earth—the temple was falling down around me as I carried you out. Some surely escaped, but many must have died.” He fell silent.
Peri remembered the slaughterhouse above the central chamber and shivered. Yes, many had died.
“One final sacrifice,” she said.
Atheris shivered, too.
“As soon as you are strong enough,” he said slowly, “we should go. There were many people running around outside the temple—guards, worshipers, priests. It was very chaotic and many will simply flee, surely. But I think when the storm dies some will be back—to look for survivors trapped in the rubble, perhaps, or even to loot the wreckage for the temple’s treasures. There will be guards, priests—perhaps even Bone Hunters. We must be gone before then.”
Peri sat up, grimacing at the dull pain.
“I can ride,” she said.
Atheris laid his hand on her shoulder, pushing her back gently; she resisted stubbornly.
“You cannot,” he said. “You need rest.”
Peri chuckled bitterly.
“I’m a Bregond,” she said. “I can ride blind, deaf, sound asleep, half-dead, through fire or earthquakes or windstorms. Trust me, if you can lead, I can stay in the saddle.”
Atheris pushed her back again more strongly, and this time Peri lay back irritably.
“When we are both struck by lightning,” he said patiently, “there will be nobody left to drag us back from the edge of death. The storm is moving north—slowly, but it is moving. As soon as it is safe, we will go, even through hard rain, I promise. But in the meantime there is nothing to do but rest.”
Peri could not argue with that, but now that she was awake it seemed impossible to sleep again.
“Did you check the packs?” she said. “Is everything there? Our supplies, gold, weapons—”
Atheris hesitated for a long moment.
“Our packs are intact,” he said slowly. “Even your healer’s bag and our gold.”
“But?” Peri pressed.
“But—” He hesitated a moment longer, then sighed. “Your sword. You dropped it in the temple.”
Peri bolted upright, ignoring the pain this time.
“My sword,” she whispered. Oh, Mahdha, no, not that, not the one thing I’ve held on to, not when I’ve lost everything else.
“Peri, we have gold enough,” Atheris said hurriedly. “We will buy another, the best steel that can be bought.”
“My sword,” she said through clenched teeth, “was the best steel that can be bought. My foster brother, my best friend and instructor and clan leader, had it made for me when I learned the Ithuara. I’d rather leave my right leg behind.” When Atheris said nothing, she added acidly, “You’ve got your prophecy, you’ve got your rain. If I get myself killed now, it hardly matters, right?”
Peri felt Atheris recoil slightly at her words. Then, unexpectedly, his lips crushed down on hers in the darkness and lightning flashed through her; weariness, pain forgotten, she pulled him to her, her fingers digging hard into his shoulders. There was a brief fumbling struggle with wet clothes; then Atheris’s skin was wonderfully hot against hers, and it was as if the warmth of life itself entered her body again. She clung to him with all her strength as if he was her only anchor to this world, but by the time the wave of pleasure crested and broke, Peri knew without doubt that she was alive again.
“All right,” she gasped against Atheris’s cheek, still holding him close as their hearts slowed. “All right. You win. It matters.”
Atheris chuckled in her ear, then drew back slightly, enough that Peri caught a glimpse of his smile when the lightning flashed—outside, this time.
“More than battle heat, remember?” he said gently.
Peri flushed.
“Yes,” she said, so softly that she could barely hear herself over the rain. “More than battle heat.”
Atheris gazed at her a moment longer, then pulled a tunic out of the pack and handed it to her.
“We will find your sword if we can,” he said. He grinned. “A fine strong blade is worth some risk to keep.”
Peri chuckled wryly.
“You can take that to the market and buy—”
“—two skins of brandy and a hot bath, if I had my way,” Atheris said, chuckling, too. “Come. Best go now if we are going. Anyone near the ruins now will be more concerned with themselves than us, and when the storm lessens, we should start south.”
Peri and Atheris’s robes, on which they had been lying, were damp from the wet ground but better protection from the rain than the soggy blankets. Atheris insisted that Peri rest while he loaded the horses, but she balked at riding while he led. In any event, as he had said, the storm was still violent enough that riding was a risk she preferred not to take.
Peri was amazed and appalled to see what she and Atheris had wrought upon the temple. The slight rise on which it had been built was now a noticeable concavity in the earth, and the once majestic structure was now little more than a huge, jumbled heap of stone blocks and broken columns. Even the gate and outer wall were a complete shambles. Peri’s heart sank. There was no chance at all that she and Atheris could make their way back to what had been the central chamber.
Then she saw the still forms scattered here and there in the ruins and she swallowed hard, struck silent by the sight. Many had lost much more than a sword. Eregis had had his final sacrifice, indeed, and it had been a great and bloody one. Peri closed her eyes.
A few tears won’t grieve this one away, she thought numbly. How do I weigh the lives we saved against the lives we ended here by our deeds? She thought of the guards she’d “mercifully” left alive, locked in her grandfather’s cell, and swallowed hard against the lump rising in her throat.
Atheris said nothing, but he led the horses closer without hesitation, not wincing from the sight. He walked up to the nearest body and bent down, touching the throat. He shook his head briefly and stood again, but Peri had known even before he stooped that no life remained in that pale form. There was no life here; hours had passed since the temple fell, and those who had survived had already walked or staggered away, alone or with the help of their fellows. She could feel that clearly even—
No!
Peri grabbed Atheris’s arm, shouting over the noise of rain and thunder.
“Over there!” she said, pointing. “I think there’s someone still alive.”
Atheris glanced at her strangely, but obligingly pulled the horses in the direction she had indicated. Peri had to steady herself against the nearest horse as she followed. She couldn’t blame Atheris for his skepticism. She’d never been enough of a healer to sense anything at such a distance, much less through a downpour like this.
Then through the darkness Peri caught a glimpse of gold partially under a fallen column, and for a moment her breath caught as she remembered the golden statue of Eregis in the center of the temple. Had the statue been thrown clear of the ruins somehow, or had, incredibly, the god indeed risen and walked? Given the sheer power she and Atheris had raised, Peri was not prepared to discount the latter possibility entirely.
A second glance, however, told her that what she’d seen was only the edge of a gold-trimmed robe, and for a moment she let out her breath in a sigh of relief; then she froze again as she recognized the robe and remembered when sh
e’d last seen it. Atheris stopped, too, apparently sharing her recognition; then he moved forward more slowly, and Peri made no effort to hasten him.
Seba lay unmoving, the fallen column covering most of her left side, and even the driving rain did not entirely wash away the blood that trickled from her mouth and nose, but her eyes were open and she gazed at Atheris and Peri calmly, unsurprised.
“Well, Lady Perian, so you came back, just as I did,” Seba murmured, blood and rain bubbling on her lips. “At least you had the sense to stay away while the stones were still falling. I congratulate you.”
Silently Peri knelt in the mud, holding out the edge of her robe to keep the rain from Seba’s face.
“Ah, thank you.” Seba sighed. “You’re a charitable child.”
Peri laughed bitterly.
“You think I’m charitable after I ruined all your plans?”
“Ruined?” Seba chuckled weakly. “Oh, no, my Harbinger, you’re all that I hoped, and more. But you didn’t come back for me, I know.” Her free arm fumbled under her robe, and her eyes sparkled. “Was it for your grandfather? Or for this?”
She pulled back the edge of her robe, and a shock ran through Peri as she saw the hilt of her sword.
“Why?” Peri asked, gazing into Seba’s eyes. “Why did you find it for me?”
Seba smiled, coughing briefly as new blood stained her lips.
“You give me too much credit,” she rasped. “I saw it on the ground and picked it up, and then the column fell.” She touched the column and her smile widened. “You see how Eregis repaid me for my service? Much the same as my own people. And now I’ll oblige them all by dying at last.” She coughed again, grimacing with pain. “Although not quite fast enough to suit me.”
She glanced back at Peri.
“I don’t suppose you would do me the honor?”
Peri carefully eased the sword out from under Seba’s robe and her free leg; then her eyes widened as she glimpsed a familiar bulge on the outside of Seba’s calf. She raised the edge of the robe slightly, shivering at the amount of blood muddying the ground, and slowly drew Seba’s grace-blade from its sheath. She turned and silently placed the hilt of the grace-blade in Seba’s free hand.
Seba glanced at the knife, then at Peri, and laughed, and went on laughing, even when wet, choking coughs punctuated the laughter.
Peri rose slowly and took the reins of her horse, turning away, and Atheris followed her just as silently. Seba’s laughter, too, followed her through the rain until at last it stopped, and Peri did not turn to see what had stopped it.
Chapter Ten
“Perian!”
Startled, Peri dropped the pen, her hand reflexively, reaching for her sword hilt. Then she recognized the voice and turned to meet Danber’s wide eyes, laying her hand on Atheris’s arm when he would have drawn his own blade.
“It’s all right,” she murmured. “He’s a friend.”
Danber stepped forward slightly, his eyes still on Peri’s.
“Am I, Perian?” he asked softly. “You stand alive in my tent with a Sarkond at your side. Is it a friend I see before me, or a traitor whom honor will not permit me to see or hear?”
“Atheris isn’t an enemy,” Peri said slowly. “He saved my life, got me out of Sarkond. And his magic got me into this tent to deliver a message.” She drew a deep breath. “Judge me however you like. I didn’t die when custom demanded it. Bregond needed my life more than my death.”
Danber’s eyes hardened, and Peri felt her heart breaking, but she stood firm, drawing the signet ring from her pocket and laying it on the table.
“If you won’t hear me, read what I wrote,” she said deliberately. “But give this to my aunt Kairi and make sure my mother knows, too, that High Lord Elaasar died honorably by his own hand and flies with Mahdha.”
She glanced at Atheris, then back at Danber.
“And tell Uncle Terralt that he can withdraw the troops and mages I saw camped at the border. There’s no danger of an attack from Sarkond. The people of Sarkond—what’s left of them—will have enough to keep them busy with their own country for a long, long time to come.”
Danber’s eyes searched hers.
“Is that true, Perian?” he asked softly.
Peri met his gaze squarely.
“Five days ago it wasn’t true,” she said. “Now it is. I swear on my sword, and on the blood of my family, and what’s left of my honor.”
Danber closed his eyes briefly as if pained, and when he opened them, he did not look directly at Peri, but slightly off to one side.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Perian,” he said. “I don’t know if Mahdha remembers your name. Bregond doesn’t forgive easily.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Peri wanted to tell him she had died, that she’d heard Mahdha whispering her name in welcome, but... no. “I’m leaving anyway.”
“Perhaps—that would be best,” Danber said slowly. “It might be wisest to return to your parents and—”
“No.” Peri glanced at Atheris. “I’m not going back to Agrond either.”
This time Danber met her eyes involuntarily.
“But, Perian—” Then he stopped, looking at Atheris, too.
“Back to Sarkond?” he asked softly.
Peri laughed a little bitterly.
“Bright Ones, no!” she said. “South. After that, who knows.”
“Perian—” Danber hesitated, but did not avert his eyes again. “No matter what might be said of you here, there’s still Agrond, your kin, waiting to welcome you.”
Peri touched Atheris’s hand, felt him clasp her fingers.
“They won’t welcome him,” she said. Then she shook her head. “Anyway, I can’t go back to my family. Mother—it’d tear her up just like it’s tearing you up now. I won’t do that to her. And Mother and Father still have to deal with Bregond, and harboring me would only shake a peace that took generations to build. Besides—” She took a deep breath. “There are things about my grandfather’s death that everybody will sleep easier not knowing, and Mother would never let it rest until she’d heard it all. Just tell her what I told you. It’s true, and it’s all she—or anyone else—ever needs to know.”
Danber searched her eyes again, then nodded slowly.
“I will deliver your message,” he said.
“Anyway,” Peri said, more lightly, “it gets me out of living with Aunt Kairi. Now she’ll have to find another Heir.”
Danber barely smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“She already has,” he said.
Peri sighed with relief.
“Oh, good,” she said. “Who’s the unlucky one? Aunt Fidaya’s son?”
“No.” Danber sighed. “Kalendra.”
“Kalendra?” Peri chuckled again. “How in the world did Aunt Kairi settle on her, especially since she’s barely even related by Mother’s marriage?”
“Easily enough.” Danber shrugged. “High Lady Kairi married Terralt.”
That shocked Peri to silence. If someone had told her that every watering hole in Bregond had filled with wine, she couldn’t have been more astonished.
“Your uncle seemed well pleased to take the seat as High Lord,” Danber said, smiling again at Peri’s reaction. “And High Lady Kairi finds it helpful to share those responsibilities. She says it will enable her to take her power to those sections of the land desperate for rain, and High Lord Terralt is well suited to serve as envoy to Agrond.”
Then he grimaced slightly.
“But it’s a political marriage and there’s no knowing whether they will be able to produce an Heir. So they agreed that Kalendra and I would be best suited to take the seats if they bear no children of their own.”
Peri chuckled.
“Better you than me,” she said. “For your sake, I wish my aunt and uncle happiness and fertility. But even though it lets me off from being Heir, it doesn’t change my decision.”
Danber nodded, glancing b
riefly at Atheris.
“Yes,” he said. “I understand.”
Then he hesitated.
“Perhaps Bregond will never know it owes you a debt,” he said softly. “But I know. If there’s anything you need—money, supplies?”
Peri thought of the Bregondish gold in her saddlebags, then the supplies Seba had given her—much of it ruined in the torrential rain.
“I have some money, but I’ll take what I can get,” she said, grinning ruefully. “Especially if—I don’t suppose you found Tajin?” she added wistfully, holding her breath.
This time Danber gave her the old familiar smile.
“What do you think brought me here to the border—and kept me here, even after I mourned you?” he asked gently. “I’ll have him saddled and loaded. And one for your—your friend.”
He pulled his purse off his belt and handed it to Peri rather apologetically. “Kalendra has more,” he said. “Shall I call her? Perhaps you’d like to speak to her.”
Peri shook her head quickly.
“She won’t understand. She’ll make a fuss, and I don’t want that.” She hesitated. “Give her a chance, Danber. She’s stronger than she looks.”
Then she chuckled.
“Just make her ride outside the carriage.”
Danber nodded, smiling slightly.
“She’s a kind and tolerant lady,” he said. “She deserves a husband who could properly appreciate her. But we will manage.”
“Well, then—” Awkwardly, Peri held out her hand. Danber ignored it and pulled her close, holding her tightly.
“Good-bye, Danber,” Peri whispered, burying her face in his hair. “You’ll always be more than a brother to me.”
“And you,” Danber murmured, “will always be more than a sister. Perian—if Mahdha has forgotten your name, then I will remind her, again and again, until she remembers.”
Abruptly he released her, turning away. As he reached for the tent flap Peri cleared her throat, and he paused.
“Danber,” she said softly. “I found Waterdance.”
Danber glanced over his shoulder, and this time the smile reached his eyes.
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