by DAVID B. COE
Besh didn't break stride, but rather walked right up to the two men and stopped in front of them. He heard Sirj hurrying to catch up with him.
"Where are you going, Mettai?" one of the Fal'Borna asked him.
They were both young men, powerfully built, with golden eyes, long white hair, and bronze skin. Strange as they appeared to him, they were also beautiful and forbidding. It almost seemed to Besh that all Fal'Borna warriors resembled these two. Looking closer, he could see that the man who had spoken had a rounder, softer face than the other, and that his eyes were more widely spaced. But the differences were subtle. It was as if Qirsar himself had reached down and created these people in his own image.
"I was on my way to speak with my friend Grinsa," Besh told the men, offering his most disarming smile. "He and I have matters to discuss. And I have to admit that I'm also hoping he'll have a bit for me to eat."
The two men exchanged glances.
"Is there a problem?" Besh asked, looking from one of them to the other, as Sirj stopped beside him.
"You're to stay here," said the first man. "Both of you. We can have food brought to you."
Besh's smile faded. "I was led to believe that we're guests of your a'laq. Was I wrong? Are we in fact prisoners?"
"You're Mettai," the man said, as if that answered the question. "We're at war with your people. You are guests of the a'laq. If you weren't, you'd be dead by now."
"We were declared friends of the Fal'Borna by an a'laq named F'Ghara," Sirj said. "That must count for something."
Besh still carried F'Ghara's white stone in his pocket. He pulled it out now and held it up for the man to see.
The Fal'Borna cast a quick look at the necklace, but his expression didn't change at all. "I don't know anything about that," he said. "I was ordered to watch you, and to keep you here. The rest is up to the a'laq."
Besh turned to Sirj, who stared back at him bleakly. After a moment the younger man shrugged and shook his head.
The old man faced the warrior again. "I'd like to speak with your a'laq."
"The a'laq decides who he'll speak to. If he chooses to see you, you'll be summoned."
Besh felt himself growing angry. If this was what it meant to be a guest of the Fal'Borna, he would have hated to be their prisoner. But he knew that railing at this man would do no good, and that defying him might well get him killed, and Sirj, too.
"Food, then," he said thickly. "We'd like to eat. Please. And we'd like to speak with the Forelander."
The warrior nodded, then looked at his comrade, who turned and started toward a cluster of shelters. There was nothing for the two Mettai to do but make their way back to their shelter.
"This isn't going to end well," Sirj said under his breath as they walked. Besh merely nodded, knowing the younger man was right.
They think Besh and Sirj made it up?" Grinsa asked, hardly believing what Cresenne was telling him. She nodded, watching him. She looked pale and frightened and lovely.
She had found him wandering the empty grounds of the marketplace, where he'd gone after his conversation with E'Menua. Bryntelle was with the young Fal'Borna women who cared for the sept's children, and Cresenne had been at the tanning circle where she usually spent her days. He'd been surprised and pleased to see her, but that had quickly given way to alarm when she began to tell him what she'd heard. They had walked beyond the horse paddock, where they were unlikely to be disturbed. They gazed out over the plain as they spoke, holding hands once more. Even now, angry and afraid for the two Mettai, he couldn't be with Cresenne without touching her. They'd been apart for too long. It was almost as if he needed to assure himself that she was real, rather than a dream or some conjured illusion.
"Is it possible?" she asked after a lengthy silence. "I know you trust them, but you have no proof that their spell will protect us from the plague, do you?"
He looked at her, pained by the question. She shook her head and lifted his hand to her lips.
"I'm sorry," she said. "But F'Solya… she sounded so sure of herself. And she said that the only way to test the spell was to put our lives at risk, which is true."
"I'm alive," he said. "So is Q'Daer. That's my proof."
"Don't be mad at me. I was just… I don't know anything about these men except what you've told me. And most of what I've heard about the Mettai-the plague, their alliance with the Eandi-doesn't lead me to trust them. I know that they saved you, and for that I'll forever be in their debt, but if F'Solya can make me wonder about them, imagine how easy it will be for I'Joled and the others to convince the rest of the sept that they're our enemies."
She had a point. E'Menua had made clear that he wasn't ready to trust them; what F'Solya had said to Cresenne was quite similar to what E'Menua had told him. And he had to admit that he had doubts of his own. None of them had anything to do with Besh's and Sirj's motives. He trusted the two men completely. But Cresenne was right: How did they know that the spell had made Grinsa immune to another onset of Lici's plague? How did they know that he was able to pass that protection on to Cresenne and Bryntelle and the others?
"Grinsa?" she said, her forehead furrowed with concern. "Say something."
"There's not much I can say, except to admit that you're right. E'Menua voiced similar suspicions. Once the Fal'Borna have made up their minds about an enemy, there's very little chance of convincing them otherwise."
"But we have to try," she said. "Don't we?"
He looked her in the eye and smiled. "Yes. So let's start by convincing you."
"What do you mean?"
"Come with me. We'll go and speak with Besh and Sirj. Once you're convinced, maybe the four of us can think of some way to win over the others."
She smiled in return and they started back toward the settlement. As they neared the shelters, Grinsa changed directions, drawing a puzzled look from Cresenne.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"If we're going to have any chance of changing E'Menua's mind, we'll need Q'Daer's help. He should be part of this conversation."
She frowned deeply.
"You disagree?" Grinsa asked.
"No. But this sounded much more pleasant when it was just going to be the four of us."
Grinsa laughed. "Well, I can't argue with that."
Q'Daer and L'Norr were still outside the a'laq's shelter. L'Norr's face colored slightly at the sight of Cresenne, but he said nothing.
"Can we have a word with you?" Grinsa asked Q'Daer, taking care to keep his voice low.
Q'Daer looked sidelong at the entrance to E'Menua's z'kal, as if the a'laq were standing right there. After a moment, he nodded. He climbed to his feet and followed them a short distance from the shelter.
Before Grinsa could say anything, Q'Daer told him, "The Mettai wish to speak with you."
"Did they tell you what it was about?"
Q'Daer shook his head. "I didn't see them. One of their guards came to me and asked where he might find you."
A chill went through Grinsa's body. "One of their guards?" he repeated. "They're being held prisoner?"
Q'Daer's expression soured. "They're being watched, Forelander. And before you say anything more, you should ask yourself if you have any reason to be surprised by this. I tried to tell you that the Mettai didn't belong here. We should have sent them back to their lands when we had the chance. Now…" He looked away, shaking his head.
"Now, what?" Grinsa demanded.
"It doesn't matter. What is it you want to discuss with me?"
"This!" Grinsa said. "We came to you to talk about the Mettai. There are people saying that they can't be trusted, that their spell hasn't done anything to protect us, and that they're the enemy."
Q'Daer didn't look at him, and for a moment Grinsa thought he'd refuse to talk to them and walk away. But then the young Weaver nodded once. "I've heard talk of this."
"And have you told people that they're wrong? Have you explained that Besh and Sirj saved our lives?"
At that Q'Daer met his gaze. "No, I haven't."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm not exactly sure what happened that night. I know how it seemed at the time. To both of us. But those who say that it all worked out too well for them may have a point."
Grinsa wanted to scream. Could Fal'Borna distrust of all Eandi truly run so deep? But he held his temper in check. Q'Daer hadn't said that he agreed with I'Joled and the others. He had merely admitted to having his doubts. So Grinsa started with the simplest elements of the events on the plain that led to their illness.
"Do you believe that they sickened us?"
The Fal'Borna twisted his mouth, looking like a small boy. "No," he finally said. "I believe Torgan did that, just as I believe that he killed the other merchant."
"Do you believe that Torgan was working with them?"
He shook his head. "No, I don't believe that, either."
"Then you don't believe that Besh and Sirj meant to do us harm."
"I suppose not," he said, grudgingly.
"And you can't deny that they healed us."
"I said only that the others had a point!" Q'Daer told him. "You don't need to speak to me like I'm a fool."
"That's not what I'm doing, Q'Daer. I'm trying to figure out what you believe and what you don't. And it sounds to me like you don't think the Mettai are enemies of… of our people, but you're also not certain their spell actually has made us immune to the witch's curse. Is that right?"
The Fal'Borna was scowling again. It seemed to Grinsa that his face didn't relax into a smile as most people's did, but that this was his most natural look. He nodded once more. "Yes, that's about right."
"Come with us, then. Cresenne and I were on our way to speak with Besh and Sirj. The three of us are their only friends right now."
"I'm not their friend," Q'Daer said quickly.
Grinsa took Cresenne's hand and the two of them started walking in the direction of the Mettai's z'kal.
"You don't believe they want to kill us," he said over his shoulder. "Right now, that makes you as good a friend as they have among the Fal'Borna."
He hoped that Q'Daer would follow, but wasn't certain he would until he looked back and saw the young Weaver walking behind them, muttering to himself, his eyes trained on the ground.
Grinsa noticed the guards well before they reached Besh and Sirj. At first he saw only the two directly in front of them. But as he started looking for them, he spotted several more. They were keeping their distance from the Mettai, but they were there just the same, and he had no doubt that Besh and Sirj had noticed them.
The two Mettai were sitting on the ground in front of their shelter, eating. Besh saw Grinsa first and quickly got to his feet. Sirj did the same.
"Are you both all right?" Grinsa asked as he, Cresenne, and Q'Daer drew near to the two men.
"We're prisoners," Besh said flatly.
"You're guests of the a'laq," Q'Daer told him, before Grinsa could respond.
Besh glared at him. "I don't know what that means. We're being watched by armed guards. We're surrounded by them. That I understand."
"Do you understand as well that your people and mine are at war? Do you understand that we're under attack by Eandi and Mettai alike? How do you expect to be treated?"
"Like the men who saved your life," Besh said, his voice as cold and hard as Grinsa had ever heard it.
The last thing Grinsa wanted was for Q'Daer to express his doubts about whether the Mettai really had saved them.
"This isn't helping any of us," he said, before Q'Daer could answer. He turned to Besh and Sirj. "We need to find some way to convince E'Menua that the two of you aren't threats to the sept."
"I would have thought that the spell we cast protecting all of you from Lici's plague had done that already."
Perhaps there was no way to avoid this conversation.
Grinsa looked at Cresenne. "Tell them."
She gazed back at him, clearly reluctant.
He took her hand again. "It has to be you. Coming from Q'Daer, it'll sound too belligerent. And I'm not the one who spoke to F'Solya."
Cresenne nodded and raked her free hand through her hair. Grinsa couldn't help but smile at the gesture-it was so familiar, and yet it had been so long since he'd last seen her do it.
"What is it you want her to tell us?" Besh asked.
"Many in the sept don't believe that your spell will protect them," Cresenne answered, facing the two Mettai. "Some think that the magic simply won't work. Others…" She took a breath, her eyes flicking briefly in Grinsa's direction. "Others wonder if you're trying to trick them into risking their lives. They think you want them to believe that the spell will protect them, but-"
"I understand," Besh said, despair in his dark eyes.
He stared off to the side. It took Grinsa a moment to realize that he was looking at one of the guards.
"So the fact that I killed Lici means nothing?" the old man asked after a lengthy silence. He faced Grinsa again. "The necklace given to us by F'Ghara means nothing?" His voice rose as he spoke. "The spell we cast to cure you and Q'Daer of the plague means nothing?"
"You were given the necklace before we knew of the coming war," Q'Daer said, surprising Grinsa with his tone, which was as gentle as Besh's had been harsh. "And there are those who would believe that you sickened us and then cured us to win our trust."
Besh let out a bark of laughter, high-pitched and abrupt. "Whose mind works that way? Who would do such a thing?"
"Lici," Sirj said in a low voice. "She would have done it."
This was met with another silence, though after a moment Besh gave a small nod, as if conceding the point.
After some time Besh raised his eyes to look at Cresenne. "The person who voiced these doubts to you, does he wield much influence with the a'laq?"
"It was a woman," she said. "And no, neither she nor her husband has much influence with E'Menua. But I believe that the doubts she voiced to me are fairly typical. They've been kinder to me than have most people in this settlement, but in other ways they're very much like the rest of the sept."
Besh nodded again, looking from Cresenne to Grinsa and finally to Q'Daer. "So," he began. "Do you think that we cursed you with the plague and then healed you so that you'd trust us?"
"I'm certain that you didn't," Q'Daer told him. "It was Torgan."
"Have you said as much to your a'laq?"
Q'Daer hesitated, then shook his head.
"Why not?" Sirj asked.
The Fal'Borna cast a dark look at Grinsa before answering. "Because while I'm sure that Torgan made me sick," he said, "I'm not entirely convinced that you hadn't intended to do the same thing."
Grinsa gaped at him. "What?"
"Don't look so surprised, Forelander. I told you again and again that they might band together against us. The Mettai may wield magic, but their eyes are dark. Their blood is Eandi."
This was true. Several times after Besh and Sirj joined their company on the plain, Q'Daer voiced concerns about the Mettai or the merchants striking at them, or even joining forces against them. At the time, Grinsa had dismissed the Fal'Borna's suspicions. He believed then, as he did now, that Besh and Sirj were sincerely interested in stopping Lici and her curse. But with an army of Eandi warriors and Mettai sorcerers now advancing across the plain, he could see why Q'Daer would be even less inclined to trust these two men.
He'd urged Besh and Sirj to leave the plain while they still could. Now he wished that he'd insisted.
"I'm sorry," Q'Daer said to the Mettai, frowning deeply. "I didn't want to say any of this, but the Forelander wanted me to come here with him, and I didn't feel that I should lie to you."
"I didn't make you sick," Besh said, sounding angry. "Neither of us did. We've left our home, our family, just so that we could keep Lici's plague from killing any more of your people. And now you think-" He looked away, his lips pressed thin, his chest rising and falling. "We never wanted to hur
t anyone."
Q'Daer shrugged. "Our people are at war."
"Sirj and I aren't."
The Fal'Borna started to reply, but then stopped himself. Grinsa thought he could guess what he'd intended to say. To the Fal'Borna, clan was everything. Q'Daer could no more imagine these two Mettai refusing to follow their people to war than he could imagine himself marrying an Eandi woman.
"So what happens now?" Grinsa asked, looking at Q'Daer.
"What do you mean, what happens? We'll be riding to war before long. The Mettai will remain here."
"As guests," Besh said, a bitter smile on his lips. "How fortunate for us. How long will it be before your a'laq decides to execute us as enemies of your people?"
Q'Daer's mouth twitched. "I don't know."
"But you think it's possible that he will?" Grinsa demanded. The Fal'Borna exhaled, then nodded. "Yes."
Grinsa glanced at Besh, who was already regarding him, looking grim. "I tried to tell you to go home," Grinsa said.
"If we'd gone when you told us to, you'd be dead." Besh looked sidelong at Q'Daer. "Both of you would be."
"What can we do?" Grinsa asked the Fal'Borna.
"Nothing. If the a'laq decides that the Mettai are to be killed, they'll die."
"Right. And I'm asking you what we can do to convince him not to make that decision."
Q'Daer's expression hardened. "Have you listened to anything I've said? I don't trust these men!"
"Mind-bending."
Grinsa and Q'Daer both looked at Cresenne. "What?" Grinsa asked.
"One of you could use mind-bending magic on them. Force them to tell you the truth about what they did and what their intentions are."
"I've had mind-bending used on me before," Sirj said, looking doubtful.
"By F'Ghara. I wouldn't be eager to have it done again. It's… unnerving." Besh laid a hand on the younger man's arm. "I'll do it," he said.
Grinsa turned to Q'Daer. "Would that convince you?"
The man frowned. "I've… I've never used that magic. I wouldn't know how, and I don't want to… to damage him."
Besh paled.
"Then I can do it," Grinsa told him.
"You could make him say anything."
