by DAVID B. COE
"What if it's a ruse?" Gries asked.
"Then I suppose we'll be killed."
Cries raised an eyebrow, and went to find Waterstone's marshal.
The two of them returned a short while later with their horses as well as Jenoe's and Tirnya's.
"You think this is wise?" Jenoe asked, taking the reins from Cries. "They're on horses," Gries said. "I believe it puts us at a disadvantage to face them on foot."
Jenoe looked at Tirnya.
She nodded, taking a breath. "I agree."
"So do I, actually," Jenoe said. He looked at Hendrid, who nodded in return.
They swung themselves onto their mounts and rode out to meet the enemy, halting a short distance from them and eyeing them warily. Three of the men who waited for them were clearly Fal'Borna. They were stout and broad, with golden-hued skin and long hair worn tied back. The fourth man appeared to Tirnya to be from another clan. His skin was as pale as bone and he was taller than the others, though just as broad. Actually, she'd never seen a Qirsi like him, and she found herself continually glancing his way.
The three Fal'Borna were of different ages. One of the men appeared old for a Qirsi, and the other terribly young. But it was the third man who spoke, breaking a lengthy silence.
"By all rights, you and your army should be dead by now," he said, his voice as deep and cold as ocean waters. "Those of your kind who trespass on our lands rarely live to see their homeland again."
Jenoe smiled thinly. "I've seen no evidence yet that you're capable of killing us. So perhaps you should skip the idle threats and tell us what you want."
The Fal'Borna narrowed his eyes. "Without your Mettai friends, you're nothing."
"And with them we're more than you can handle. So I'll ask you again, what do you want?"
"You were leaving before we caught up with you," the pale stranger said.
"Isn't that so?"
Tirnya's father regarded him with genuine surprise. "I've never heard such an accent before. What clan are you from?"
"I'm from the Forelands," the man said. "But I ride with the Fal'Borna, and I'll die with them if I have to."
Jenoe stared at him for another moment before nodding slowly. "Yes," he said. "We were leaving. We've come to see that we were wrong to start this war, and we wish to return to Stelpana. As you've seen, though, we're willing to fight if you force the matter."
"We won't," said the Fal'Borna man. "If you leave now, we'll allow you safe passage out of our lands. Raise a weapon against us again, and we'll unleash the full might of our magic."
"What about other armies we might encounter between here and the Silverwater?"
"I can speak to other alaqs-Weavers have that ability. I'll tell them to let you pass. But they'll be just as unforgiving if you break your word."
Tirnya thought that her father would reply in kind with a threat of his own, but he seemed to think better of it.
"All right," he said. "We'll need time to care for our wounded, but you have my word as commander of this army that as long as we aren't attacked, we'll do nothing to harm any of your people."
"Done," the Fal'Borna said. He glanced at his companions, wheeled his horse away, and started back toward his army. The other men followed, though the Forelander hesitated just a moment, as if he wanted to say something more. Instead, he simply rode away with the others.
"I never thought I'd see this day," Hendrid said, watching them go. "The Fal'Borna agreeing to a truce; who'd have thought it possible?"
"Not me," Jenoe said. "Let's do what we have to and be on our way before they change their minds."
Chapter 25
There were many other wounded in the Eandi army besides Enly, and though none of them was as badly hurt as the lord heir had been, many of them were in terrible shape. Not long after Tirnya, Gries, and the two marshals returned from their parley with the Fal'Borna, one of the Mettai, a man Tirnya had never spoken to before, approached Jenoe. He was slight and shorter than Tirnya, and he had dark hair and dark eyes, like so many of the Mettai.
"Excuse me, Marshal," he said. "But if you need healing for your warriors, we can help you."
Jenoe smiled, though he looked puzzled. "Thank you…"
"Barjen, sir."
"Thank you, Barjen. Tell me, where is the eldest?"
The man shook his head. "She grieves for her son, and she has asked me to speak for our people in her place."
"What about the curse?" Tirnya asked.
"We'll use care when we heal your men," Barjen said. "Mander saved a man who should have died. It's not surprising that the curse took him. We won't be so bold, and if a spell does go wrong, the cost shouldn't be as great."
Tirnya's father appeared to weigh this for a few moments. "Very well. We appreciate your offer, Barjen. We have many wounded and not much time to get them ready for the journey back home. So however many of them you can heal, we'd be most grateful."
"Then we'll get started right away."
The army had its own healers as well, men trained in the use of salves, tonics, and poultices, and for the rest of the day everyone in Jenoe's force focused their energies on aiding those who had been wounded. The Mettai used their magic on those whose injuries were most serious, while Stelpana's healers tended to the rest.
Tirnya did what she could to help the healers who had marched from Qalsyn, preferring to keep her distance from the Mettai, though because of distaste for their magic or fear of the curse she couldn't say. She also avoided Enly. The mere thought of him roiled her emotions in ways she couldn't quite comprehend, and she needed time to sort out her feelings. She thought him arrogant and insufferable, and though there had been a time when she was attracted to him despite his many faults, that was long ago.
At least, this is what she had been telling herself for the past several hours. But she would never forget the panic that gripped her when she saw him fall from the talons of that eagle. Her heart had quailed at the thought of his death, of having to live the rest of her days without him. Half the time he made her want to tear out her hair. They bickered constantly, disagreed about almost everything. But she'd known him nearly all her life.
That's what it was! They'd been… well, yes, friends… for so long that she couldn't imagine not having him around. He was as familiar to her as her parents. This made sense to her. She even nodded to herself, drawing an odd look from the healer she was assisting at the moment.
He was like a brother. Anyone would have been terrified of losing a brother.
But with that thought came a memory, unbidden and unwelcome. Her vivid recollections of the passion they had shared, the taste of his skin, the feel of his lips on her neck and breasts, gave the lie to the idea that he had ever been anything akin to a brother to her.
"Captain."
She started, spilling some of the tonic the healer had asked her to hold for him.
He glared at her and she winced. "I'm sorry. Do you need me to get more for you?"
The man forced himself to smile, as if remembering that he was speaking to the daughter of Jenoe Onjaef. "No. Thank you. You must be… You've had a long day. Perhaps you should rest."
"Yes, all right," she said, knowing a dismissal when she heard one.
She placed the vessel carefully on the ground beside the healer and walked away, taking care once more to steer clear of Enly. Without intending to, she walked right into the Fairlea army and had nearly made it all the way to where Cries was giving orders to his men before she realized her error.
Tirnya and Gries had barely spoken since the night they kissed, the night Cries made it clear to Tirnya that he wished to spend the rest of his life with her. So much had happened since then. They'd fought battles with the white-hairs, Gries had tried to convince her father to use Torgan's piece of basket, Enly had nearly died.
She really wasn't sure how she felt about Fairlea's lord heir-what was it with her and lord heirs? Not wishing to face him right now, she turned quickly and started ba
ck toward the Qalsyn camp.
"Tirnya!"
She forced a smile onto her face and turned. Cries was striding toward her, his golden hair dancing in the wind, the late-day sun shining in his dark eyes. Gods, he was handsome.
"Were you looking for me?" he asked.
"Um… not really. I was just… I was wandering."
He gave a little frown. "Oh. All right. How's Enly?"
She glanced back over her shoulder, as if she could see Enly from there. "I think he's doing well. He's tired. The Mettai tell us it'll be days before he can walk again. I'm not even sure he can ride."
"Still, it's remarkable that he's alive at all."
Tirnya nodded. "Yes, it is."
They stood for a moment in awkward silence. She avoided looking at him, but she could feel him watching her.
"You're angry with me," he finally said. "You think I was wrong to speak to Torgan and to tell your father we should use the plague."
She shook her head. "That's not… That doesn't matter anymore."
Ile reached out and gently took hold of her hand. She made herself meet his gaze.
"Have you given more thought to what we talked about the other night?" he asked.
"There's hardly been time."
He gave her what had to be the most beautiful smile she'd ever seen on a man. "Then will you give it more thought now?"
She exhaled, closing her eyes briefly. "Cries, I…" She shook her head, looking away again.
The smile on his face changed, grew more forced. She might even have seen a touch of bitterness in his eyes. "I think I understand."
"You do?"
I le released her hand and laughed. "You don't even know your own heart, do you?"
"What?"
"You and Enly deserve each other. You're both so certain that you don't care about the other, when it's plain to the rest of us that you're both being fools."
Tirnya opened her mouth, closed it again.
"I've left you speechless, have I?"
"You have no right… Enly and I are… You know nothing about me!"
"Forgive me, Tirnya," Gries said, smiling again. "But I do think that you and Enly are pretending there's nothing between you when in fact there is. And I think that I've had enough of playing that game with you." He regarded her for another moment, then shook his head and walked away.
Tirnya watched him go, feeling that she was in a haze. Eventually she returned to her father's camp, where she found Jenoe staring across the battle plain at the Fal'Borna, who had made camp within sight of the army of Stelpana.
"Is everything all right, Father?"
He started. Facing her he offered a wan smile and nodded. "I think so. They haven't done anything to indicate that they've reconsidered. How's Enly?"
"Why does everyone assume that I've been checking up on Enly? I'll have you know that I haven't seen him in a couple of hours now."
Jenoe merely raised an eyebrow.
"Sorry, Father," she said sheepishly.
He said nothing, though he did appear to be suppressing a smile. "What has you so amused?" Tirnya asked crossly.
"Nothing," her father said, raising his hands to calm her. "Nothing at all."
"Father?"
He shrugged, a small grin on his face. "I just think your mother would be amused to know that you've got two lord heirs falling over themselves trying to get you to notice them. She's always been afraid that serving in my army would keep you from marrying well. That doesn't seem to be the case at all."
Her cheeks burned, but she had to smile. "How is it you know all this?"
"I'm not that old, Tirnya. And where my daughter is concerned, I miss nothing."
"So what should I do?"
He shook his head and kissed her brow. "That, I can't say. You know your heart. Or at least you ought to."
"Gries says that I don't."
He started to say something, then stopped himself.
"Tell me," she said.
Jenoe hesitated. "I think Gries wishes that you didn't. But he knows better, and deep down, so do you."
* * *
They started back toward Stelpana the following morning, under the watchful eyes of the Fal'Borna. A haze of smoke hung over the battle plain from the pyres the Qirsi had built the night before for their dead. Enly had spent a restless night, kept from sleep by the stench of burning bodies and the pain in his limbs and ribs. He felt too weary for this journey, but he knew that he had no choice. Every part of his body ached. He trusted that the eldest's son had done all he could to heal his broken bones and bruised organs, but he was sure that had the man still been alive he would have counseled rest. By all rights Enly should have been dead. He feared that he was asking too much of his battered body to travel so soon.
Jenoe set an easy pace, no doubt concerned for Enly and the other wounded, but any movement at all was too much. His men had fashioned a litter for him, and he lay on it stiffly, gasping at every bump, every jolt. His lead riders took turns checking on him. Aldir even rode beside him for a while, trying to make conversation, until Enly gently but firmly informed the man that he didn't wish to speak with anyone.
"0' course, Capt'n," Aldir said. "Let us know if'n ya need anythin'." With that he rode ahead, joining the other riders.
Immediately Enly felt badly for sending the man away. But he couldn't bring himself to call Aldir back. He remained alone, staring back at foot soldiers who steadfastly avoided his gaze, and watching the day slip by. He assumed that Gries and Tirnya were together, but the one advantage of not being on his horse was that he couldn't look for them.
Tirnya had saved him. He was certain of it. And even at the time, barely alive, in more agony than he had ever thought possible, he had noticed how she wept for him, how she begged the eldest and then Mander to save him. Fool that he was, he allowed himself to believe that she did this because she loved him.
He knew better now. He had been dying; she didn't want him dead. Even in the midst of their worst moments, she had never wanted him dead. Probably the thought of his death frightened her.
The first time they stopped to rest, Enly stayed on his litter. As uncomfortable as he was, he thought it would be infinitely worse to have to climb off of it and then back on. He sipped a bit of water and chewed gingerly on a piece of cheese. Even his face hurt.
When they halted again later in the day, he did get up, not because he felt any better, but because he could no longer resist the urge to look for Tirnya. He spotted Gries first, and much to his surprise, Tirnya wasn't with the man. She was with her father and Stri. He refused to believe that this meant anything, but it did lift his spirits.
Soon they were moving again and, perhaps mercifully, the pain made Enly forget about anything else.
Late in the day, Barjen joined him and asked him how he felt. When Enly told him, the Mettai nodded as if he had expected this.
"That will pass eventually," the man said. "But it could take half a turn or more. Your injuries were severe." He faltered briefly, but then went on. "With injuries like yours, there's only so much our magic can do."
Enly felt as if someone had poured cold water down his back. "What do you mean?" But he knew. Actually he'd been expecting this. He'd come too close to dying for there to be no lasting effect.
"You might not be able to… to do things that you used to. I've heard soldiers speaking of your skill with a sword. You might not be the swordsman you once were. You might not be able to move as nimbly or as fast."
He swallowed, nodded. "Thank you for telling me."
"Of course. Should I leave you?"
Enly shook his head, but didn't say anything at first. Something had been gnawing at him for the past day, and he didn't know quite how to put into words what was on his mind.
"I didn't mean for the eldest's son to do what he did," he finally said, knowing that this didn't sound right. "Neither did Captain Onjaef. We didn't know what the curse would do."
"We know that," Barjen s
aid. "None of us knew, except perhaps Mander. He seemed to understand."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Barjen said. "Live well. Make his sacrifice mean something. That's all any of us can ask of you."
"How is the eldest?"
The Mettai shook his head. "Not well."
He started to walk away, but Enly called him back.
"Forgive me for asking," he said, "but yesterday, when you healed the others, did anything… did anything go wrong?"
"No," Barjen said. "Not a thing. It probably means nothing. But there are a few among us who wonder if by embracing the curse as he did, Mander finally broke it."
"Is that possible?"
"I don't know," the man told him. "I suppose we'll find out."
"I hope those of you who believe this are right," Enly said.
"Thank you." The man smiled and walked away.
Enly took a long, slow breath. With injuries like yours, there's only so much our magic can do. He'd be lame for the rest of his life. That's what the man was telling him.
"Damn," Enly said quietly. He felt tears welling and he willed them away. He could still be a soldier, and someday he'd still be lord governor. He refused to give in to self-pity. He stared back at the foot soldiers with his head held high. But inside, his heart ached. Tirnya would never settle for a broken man.
A short time later, they halted for the night. Enly's men built him a fire and laid out his sleeping roll and blankets. He ate a small supper and then lay down, grateful to be still and warm.
He had almost dozed off when he heard footsteps nearby. Opening his eves, he saw Tirnya standing over him.
"Hello," he said guardedly.
"Hello." She stood there for a moment, clearly feeling awkward. At last she sat down on the grass beside his fire, a few fourspans from where he lay. "How are you feeling?" she asked.
"Lousy."
She frowned.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you wanted an honest answer." He forced a smile. "I feel great, never better."
Her frown deepened and she stood again. "I'm sorry you're not well. I'll leave you alone." She turned to leave.
