“What?” Korin asked, needing to move somewhere, anywhere, but he’d exhausted the available space.
“Lisen would have to testify to the Elders, as would you, of course.”
“Do you think I’m going to bring the Empir of Garla out here under these circumstances? That’s madness.”
“She would come though, wouldn’t she?”
“I don’t know. And even if we did both testify, what good would that do Rinli? It wouldn’t speak to ignorance because we both told her what we’d seen…sensed…whatever.”
“So you’ve witnessed her do this?”
“Enough.” Korin stepped to within inches of Hozia and looked down on the small woman. “You’re asking too many questions.”
Hozia spread her arms in an open gesture. “I’m sorry. I allowed my excitement to overcome my judgment. But I still say there may be a defense in there somewhere. Remember, in the main the people of Terses like Lisen. It’s the Empir they can’t stomach. If Lisen were to come here and humbly speak to her daughter’s ignorant failings, it might work.”
“And Lisen won’t come unless I’m the one to summon her. And I can’t leave Rinli here alone in order to go get her.” Korin folded down onto his pallet, locked his hands behind his neck and pulled his head forward and down.
“I can assume the role of her advocate and then I’ll demand they put any hearings off until you return. I won’t tell them you’re bringing Lisen back, just that it was urgent business relative to the trial.”
“Maker and Destroyer.” Korin rubbed his hair back with his hands. “I have to think it through. I’ll let you know.”
“Be wise but be swift,” Hozia warned, then left.
Korin fell back on his pallet and stared at his cave’s familiar rocky ceiling. To leave Rinli alone here without him to protect her for nearly a month was foolish. To deliver Lisen to this seething pack of manta was insanity. He had to come up with something, something that didn’t place everyone he loved in a jeopardy worse than their current circumstances. He could send someone with a letter to Lisen. But he felt a yearning to engage her fully from the moment she knew, allow her to join with him in making this decision. He couldn’t do that from a distance.
It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Hozia. As senior Elder, she could probably convince them to hold off doing anything until he got back. They respected her, despite her love for Rinli and himself, the two part-Garlan spawn in their midst. With the more temperate daylight temperatures, he could leave whenever he wanted to, but they would have to let him see Rinli first, privately. He needed to gauge her mood and tell her what she should know.
No, he didn’t dare leave. How could he even think of such a thing? He had to stay here for her. But leaving could be for her as well. His mind rattled about in confusion, and he lay on his pallet considering beating his head against the rock face until he knew what to do.
“Korin?”
That timid little voice, his Madlen. He sat up and drew her in with a hand gesture. “Come on.” She stepped in and stood before him. “Sit.” She did so like a well-trained pet. “Did you know?”
“Oh, no. I would have been outside, far beyond them, waiting to tell you to run away, I promise.”
“I know,” he said and smiled, hoping to ease her pain even when he could do nothing for his own, but he realized he’d failed when he saw tears well up in her eyes.
“Save her, Korin. They don’t know it. They can’t see it. But they need her.”
Korin reached out to cup in his hand the chin of the young woman he’d once played with as a child. “Why do you say that, Madlen?”
“Because she’s not just the Protector of Thristas. She’s more. She’s the prophecy. She’s Mantar’s Child.”
“And how can you say this?” Korin asked with genuine curiosity.
“Because I know. That’s all. I just know.”
Her eyes brimmed with tears, unspilled and eloquent. How could Korin counter that? The questions that had plagued him for a lifetime slipped away. With the witness of this young woman, the small remaining nagging doubts dissolved. He had to save the life of the prophecy. He would fly to Avaret and, with Lisen’s help, make the decisions in need of making. He owed it to himself, to Lisen and Rinli. He owed it to the Tribe. He sighed.
And I owe it to The People. They’ve waited long enough.
Decision made, he set his sights on one quick meeting with Rinli, then departure.
“Thank you, Madlen.” He kissed her on the forehead, then left her there, duties to accomplish.
Rinli paced back and forth, from one side of her tiny cell somewhere in the depths of the mesa to the other, wringing her hands, wishing her father would come. She’d done it. She knew that now. She’d done what Tinlo had accused her of, and there was no running from it. Not anymore. Her mother had tried over and over to convince her that she bore this power, but she had buried the truth from her mind and denied it to both her mother and her father. Now, every time she thought about it, she felt it again. Felt herself pushing Tinlo again. It was dazzlingly clear; she’d forced him to drop the knife just as her father had arrived to intercede. And then Tinlo had run. She hadn’t understood why at the time, but she’d made sure he’d feel unwelcome. He had committed himself to killing her, then hadn’t. But as he’d left her and Madlen, the job undone, he must have begun to wonder why he’d halted and dropped his knife, and that was when he’d allowed the memory to run through his mind. He’d caught it quickly and taken both his confession and his accusation immediately to the Elders.
Why didn’t they take me into custody right then? Because they knew I’d be heading out for Garla soon, and they could take their time considering Tinlo’s testimony? If I’d never returned to Thristas, there’d be no need to act, but since I did, they grabbed me up before Fa could stop them.
She kicked the pallet on the floor, and its corner curled back. The story of my life—corners constantly turning back on themselves. Destroyer’s blood, I’m dead.
And this cell. Dark—save for one candle—and so tiny she’d had to crawl in through a hole to access it. She didn’t even know where it was. An entire childhood invested in investigating every little nook, every little fork in the tunnels, and she’d never come upon this before? How long could a person survive in such a place? And then she realized. I won’t be allowed to find out. She shivered.
Where is Fa?
But more importantly, what about her mother back in Avaret, ignorant?
She heard scraping at the hole and breathed a sigh of gratitude when she recognized the top of her father’s head. He regained his feet, swiped his hands back and forth to loosen the dirt they’d accumulated when he’d crawled in, then reached out to her. She went straight into his arms. She’d prided herself on growing long past the sort of immature neediness that Insenlo always demonstrated with her incessant hugs, but whatever pride she had once felt about her adult independence had withered in her soul.
“Oh, Fa. They’re right. I did it.”
“Shh,” he cautioned, then continued in a whisper. “Hozia and two Defenders are right outside.”
“I know how it feels,” she said, whispering as well. “I know how the push feels from inside. I remember.”
She felt her father sigh from deep in his chest. “That’s a start,” he said.
“I need Mother. Is there any way—”
“That’s why I’m here. I have to leave, but I will be back. Hozia and I have a plan, and she’s promised to take care of you while I’m gone.”
“But—”
“The sooner I leave, the sooner I’ll be back, all right?” He leaned back and brought her face up to look at him.
“I think I may have pushed the Elders to decide against Tinlo, too. Do you think they’ve figured that out as well?”
He pulled her back into his arms and held her to him. “Hozia would have told me. She didn’t.”
“And now I have to trust her.”
“She
was your first supporter, Rin.” He paused. “I wouldn’t go if I didn’t have to.”
“Please bring Mother. I really need her.”
“I’ll do what I can.” He kissed her on the top of her head, though she was now tall enough that she had to lean forward for him to reach it. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
And then he was crawling back out of the hole. She could hear muffled voices on the other side, but she couldn’t decipher what they said. Then the voices trailed off, and she was alone.
Korin pulled one of the straps tight over his satchel and buckled it to the saddle. Then he came around the other side to check the cinch one last time. The last thing he wanted was to find himself and the saddle slipping off his horse at a gallop. He pulled the flap and then the stirrup down and stared at the horse for a moment.
“Is that everything?” Madlen asked from the little corner she’d claimed as her own.
“Yes,” he replied. “You keep an eye on Rinli. She’s your responsibility now.”
“I brought some supplies.” Korin looked up to see Hozia striding into the stable, a large satchel over her shoulder.
“I don’t have time to repack,” Korin protested.
“I’ll help you.” Hozia loosened the straps on Korin’s satchel, then slipped the second pack up, and before Korin could complain, she’d hooked it all up to even Korin’s satisfaction. “Some lapin strips, some dried succulent apples.”
“It’s not like I don’t know how and where to find food.”
“But you won’t, will you,” Hozia replied. “You’ll ride as long as you can without eating, and when you can’t do it anymore, you’ll be good to nobody.”
“All right, all right.” Korin held his hands up in surrender.
“Be sure to open it up once you get over the rim. I’ve packed a couple of surprises that won’t last as long as the dried lapin and apples.”
Korin sighed. He’d thought riding to rescue Lisen when Ondra had abducted her had been a hard trip. Nothing like this. He shook his head. Nothing like riding like the wind all the way to Avaret.
He turned to his horse and was about to mount when Madlen grabbed him from behind. “Save her. There has to be a way. Please save her.”
Hozia clapped him on the shoulder. “And as I said earlier, be wise.”
“And be swift,” Korin added with a nod, pried Madlen off and took to the saddle. He looked down on the two women into whose hands he was entrusting his daughter’s fate for the next month. They were good, but he would have to be better. He kicked his horse and headed out onto the desert. Mid-afternoon, but because it was winter, the temperature was more than tolerable. So he kicked his horse into a canter, and watching for nesting holes in the path ahead of him, he rode out of Mesa Terses, heading for Avaret, for the promise of the sea on the other side of the mountains.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“SAFE JOURNEY”
Lisen sat down to breakfast with the two children remaining to her here in Avaret and thanked the Creators when a servant lifted a heavy cup in her direction, signaling the man’s understanding that Lisen required hot liquid immediately. Within seconds, she was wrapping her hands around a warm cup of brewed keshis, a drink she’d discovered in the desert the first time she’d returned there with Korin and Rinli. She’d complained she hated the various teas available in Garla, that they tasted nothing like what she’d grown used to on Earth. Korin had scowled at her when she’d said this and then brought her a mug filled with keshis. It wasn’t coffee, but it was better than what passed for tea here. And on a day like today, with the temperatures dropping in anticipation of Greatdark two weeks away, it warmed all the right spots in her body.
“Good morning, Mother,” Insenlo said, waiting until after her mother took her first sip of tea before speaking.
“Sen,” Lisen replied. “Did you sleep well?”
“Better than you.”
Once again, Insenlo knew more than she should, but Lisen had stopped questioning the child’s knowledge long ago.
“Fa and Rin or the passing of that old hermit at Solsta?” the girl asked.
Lisen combined a smile with a grimace, and Insenlo nodded her understanding—both and neither, and no further discussion would be tolerated.
“Nas,” Lisen said, attempting yet again to draw her son out of his shell of rejection. “How would you like to join me for a ride later today? It would be nice to get out one more time before the frost forces all the flowers to flee.”
“Mother, you know I hate riding, and I don’t care about the damn flowers.” And with that whiny response, he stood up, pushing his chair back and making a hasty exit, most likely to hide out in his room for the rest of the day. At least there he was safe, unlike Rinli in the desert.
“Sen, a ride today?”
“Yes. But this afternoon, all right? I have an assignment from Jentil to finish first.” The children’s mentors were relentless, but Lisen suspected that Insenlo actually asked for extra work.
“Of course. I’ll have the horses saddled after lunch.”
The servant set a plate down in front of Lisen containing a biscuit, an egg and a gorta, a small, tangerine-like fruit. Nothing but the biscuit appeared palatable this morning, so she picked at it as she sipped at her keshis. She had nothing planned for the morning and decided returning to bed was the most appealing thought she’d had since rising. But no, there would be items in need of attention already laid out by Chesa in preparation for her arrival in her office. She hoped word from Korin would lie on the top of her work for the morning, but it was really too early yet. She didn’t expect anything until at least Greatdark.
“Well,” Insenlo said as she wiped her mouth with the napcloth and rose from her chair, “I’m going to get working on that assignment.”
She headed for the door to the hall but halted abruptly to avoid a figure rushing into the room.
“Fa?”
Lisen looked up from her biscuit and gasped just as Korin, disheveled and worn, pulled up to keep from knocking a wide-eyed Insenlo over.
“Lisen. Thank the Maker.”
“Fa?” Insenlo repeated.
“Sen, go,” Lisen ordered, the bile of fear at the sight of her spouse gasping for breath and barely able to hold his head up rising into her throat. “We’ll talk later.”
Insenlo nodded, stole a moment to give her father a quick hug, then ran out of the dining room. Korin remained where he stood, locks of hair loosed from his braid, his clothes looking like he hadn’t changed in weeks. And in his eye, she saw it—the something she’d dreaded since he and Rinli had left for Thristas after Council. Now, at last, she would know.
“What…what is it?” she asked, closing her eyes as though momentary blindness would make the truth easier to handle.
“They’ve arrested Rinli. They’re going to try her for using hermit magic.”
Her focus on him alone, she jumped up from her chair, barely getting to him before he collapsed into her arms. His body had brought him this far and no farther. She helped him down into the chair at the end of the table and knelt down onto her feet in front of him. She cupped her hand under his chin and pulled his head up. Clearly he hadn’t slept in days, maybe weeks. Had he ridden straight through?
“Now tell me,” she said, her voice as soothing as possible in spite of her fear. “They arrested her. For what?”
“She did it. She admitted to me that she did it. She told me she hadn’t realized it at the time, but looking back she could see it now.”
“What?”
“She pushed Tinlo, to stop him from killing her.”
“Damn it!” She stood up and paced away from him, no longer able to silence her frustration. Frustration with Rinli. Frustration with herself. Frustration with this gift that was no gift. Frustration with the damn Thristans and their unreasonable fear of hermit magic. Finally she turned back to him. “For Creators’ sake, she did it to save her life. And Madlen’s, too.
”
“I rode straight through, only rested when I thought the horse would drop.”
Lisen reached over to her plate and pulled it over in front of her spouse. “Here. Eat. I’ve barely touched the biscuit. The rest is yours. Then we can talk.”
Korin didn’t eat like a starving person; he considered every bite before putting it in his mouth and savored it before swallowing. Lisen loved the mysteries this man constantly offered her, but damn it, she needed answers.
“Tell me everything. Like why are you here and not with Rin?” she asked. “A messenger could have gotten here as fast with a note.”
“I know,” Korin said, swallowing a bite of egg and setting his fork down. “That was my first plan. But when I told Hozia, privately of course, that you and I had seen this happen before and how we’d tried…well, she thinks you should come and testify on Rinli’s behalf. She’s promised to keep the Elders from holding any hearings until we return.”
“Perfect,” Lisen scoffed. “The Protector of Thristas and the Empir of Garla in their clutches.”
“I don’t know,” Korin said. “Rinli wants you. She wants you. And she was willing to take the risk of being left alone so I could come get you. How could I say no?”
“I still say a note would have been better. You’ve left Rin alone in a strange land.”
“First, she’s not alone. She has both Madlen and Hozia. And second, it’s not a strange land to her. It’s her home.”
“She is alone. You’re not there to protect her.”
“It was a risk, I know. But would you have come? I mean, if I’d just sent a note? Could I have compelled you with words alone?”
“To come?”
Korin nodded, sitting back in his chair, pushing the plate away.
“I’m not sure you’ve compelled me by being here.” It was a lie, but damn it, he’d left their child alone. She had to impress him with the foolhardiness of that before she conceded the point. After a moment of awkward silence, she spoke again. “So, tell me exactly what happened. How and when and everything.”
Protector of Thristas: A Lisen of Solsta Novel Page 34
