The Shadow Of What Was Lost (29 page)

Caeden suddenly looked uncertain.
“I… just know.” He shook his head. “The same way I knew a Shackle would kill
the one in Anabir.”

Taeris rubbed his chin. “It’s
possible,” he admitted. “The Law of Decay works differently in the city; it’s
impossible to use Essence there. So if a Shackle can kill a sha’teth, Deilannis
could affect them in the same way, I suppose.” He shrugged, though he continued
to look at Caeden with slightly narrowed eyes. “Regardless, it’s our only
option now. And it’s past time we were on our way.” Leading by example, he took
the reins of a horse from Dezia and mounted it in one smooth motion.

There were six horses, so each of
the boys picked a mount they thought they could handle without too much
trouble, and they started northward. Davian had a little difficulty adjusting;
his mount was nothing like Jeni back at Caladel, his only prior experience of
riding. He winced as he bounced along, knowing without asking that he was going
to be sore by the end of the day.

They rode without incident for a
time, silent for the most part. Occasionally Dezia exchanged conversation with
one or another of the boys, but usually stopped under Aelric’s disapproving
glare. After she spoke briefly to Caeden, though, Aelric pulled the red-haired
boy aside as they rode – away from the others, but close enough that Davian
could still hear them.

Aelric's expression was affable
enough, but his words were cold steel. “I know who you are,” he said to Caeden
softly. “I don’t know whether you’re innocent, as everyone else here seems so
eager to believe – and I don’t care. Under no circumstances on this journey are
you to talk to my sister.”

Caeden’s eyebrows raised, but he
remained otherwise impassive. “And if she talks to me?”

Aelric slapped Caeden on the back
as if they were having a friendly chat, clearly unaware that Davian could hear
him. “Politely remove yourself from the conversation.”

For a moment Davian thought he
saw a flash of anger on Caeden’s face, but if it had been there, it was covered
straight away with a pleasant smile and nod. “As you wish,” said Caeden, not a
trace of offense in his tone.

Aelric, apparently satisfied,
rode on ahead. Caeden saw Davian looking at him and gave an uncomfortable
shrug. The two rode side-by-side for a few minutes in silence.

“Do you dream at all, Davian?”
Caeden asked suddenly.

Davian blinked at the question.
“Sometimes,” he answered. “Not often though… and I don’t really remember much
after.”

“I’ve been having dreams.
Nightmares.” Caeden shivered. “I can’t remember much of them either, mostly,
but… they’re bad. I wake up shaking and sweating most nights.”

The admission came hard, Davian
could tell. He gave Caeden a sympathetic look. “Given what you’ve been through
-”

“No.” Caeden cut him off. “It’s
not that. It’s not about getting beaten. I dream about that sometimes, too, and
it’s awful. But this is something worse. Much worse.” He was quiet for several
seconds, and Davian wondered whether he should ask anything further about it.
He was just about to speak again when Caeden shifted in his saddle, leaning
closer.

“Do you think I did it?”

Davian stared at Caeden for a
long moment. “Did what?”

“You know what I’m talking
about,” said Caeden, his tone reproachful. He jerked his head towards Aelric.
“People like him tend to assume the worst about me – but I don’t care what they
think. You and Wirr, though… you’re a different story. You’ve been nothing but
friendly to me, but at the same time, I can see you holding back. Being
cautious.” He shrugged. “I don't blame you, I just want to know what you think
of me. Honestly.”

Davian chewed his lip; the
subject made him a little nervous. “Honestly? I think it’s likely the Gil’shar
lied about you. Taeris says you’re probably a pawn in something larger that’s
going on, the same as me, and I think he’s right. Besides - I’ve seen your face
whenever you think about those accusations. I know the whole thing makes you
sick to your stomach.”

Caeden nodded slowly. “But?”

Davian took a deep breath. “
But
…
everything’s been so backward, this past month. I’m not sure I can trust my own
judgment any more.” A stab of grief and fury cut through him as he thought
about Ilseth Tenvar and Caladel, and he gritted his teeth. “I hope you’re the
person you seem to be, Caeden, truly. I like you. But I probably won’t feel
certain of anything until we reach Tol Athian and you get your memories back.”
He looked Caeden in the eye. “What do
you
think?”

Caeden grimaced. “I… don’t know.
Part of me wishes I could remember, so I don’t have to wonder.”

 “And the other part is afraid of
what you will find if you do?”

“Yes.” Caeden didn’t show much
outward emotion, but Davian could see the pain in his eyes.

Davian hesitated, unsure of what
to say. “I suppose… even if you find what you’re afraid of, you’ll still have a
choice moving forward,” he said eventually. “If you're a good man now... well,
what you did in the past, is in the past. There’s no reason you can’t continue
to be a good man in the future.”

Caeden thought for a while, then
inclined his head. “That’s good advice,” he said softly. “And I appreciate the
honesty.”

Their horses drifted closer to the
rest of the group, and the conversation died away after that, leaving Davian to
his own thoughts again. To his grief. It was no longer sharp or threatened to
come out in a burst of emotion, like the previous night; instead it sat as a
constant, grinding emptiness in the pit of his stomach, an ache that felt as
though it would never recede.

For a while he brooded on his and
Wirr’s escape from Caladel. Elder Tenvar had obviously known what was going to
happen; was he then involved somehow? Perhaps even responsible? The more Davian
thought about it, the more it seemed likely, and the angrier he became.

The day passed slowly, the group
travelling in silence for the most part, constantly tense as they watched for
any sign of pursuit from Thrindar. There was none, though, and they found a
sheltered patch of ground suitable for making camp just as the rim of the sun
was disappearing below the horizon.

Dusk was properly turning into
night when they heard the sounds of a horse trotting up the road.

Other people had been scarce on
the northern road, so Davian turned curiously from the newly-made fire to watch
as the figure rode at a steady pace towards them. The horse was reined in as
the traveller came within range of the fire, and a familiar voice called out.

“El take you, Taeris, but you
could have come by the temple before you left!”

Davian relaxed as the horse was
urged a little further forward, and Nihim's face became visible beneath his
hood. Wirr grabbed the reins of Nihim's mount as he dismounted, leading it away
to be tied with the others.

Taeris greeted the priest with a
bemused look. “Nihim, what are you doing here?”

The tall man shrugged. “I heard
the princess was less than gracious with your little party, and thought you
might be headed this way. Despite omitting that minor detail when last we
talked.” He gave Taeris a meaningful stare.

Taeris just nodded, looking
resigned.

Aelric, who had been listening,
interjected indignantly. “Princess Karaliene was more than gracious!” he
protested. “These men are criminals here; she gave them more than most others
would have.”

“That she did,” Taeris assured
Aelric soothingly.

Nihim glanced at Aelric, then
raised an eyebrow at Taeris. “Don’t tell me you’ve added a Loyalist to your
group, old friend?”

Taeris smiled. “Nihim Sethi, meet
Aelric Shainwiere, the finest swordsman to ever deliberately lose the Song of
Swords.”

Aelric scowled at the
introduction, but Nihim chuckled. “Shainwiere, is it? Yes, I heard some
mutterings about you before I left this morning,” he said in amusement. “I
suppose I can see why you might have joined Taeris' excursion out of the
country. Nobody likes giving their life’s savings to a man who deliberately and
publicly dumps it into the nearest sewer. Makes them look somewhat foolish, one
might say.”

Aelric flushed, but didn’t
respond.

Nihim grabbed Taeris by the arm,
murmuring something to him in a low tone. Taeris nodded, expression grave, and
turned to the others. “I need to speak with Nihim privately for a time,” he
said. “Make sure someone’s on watch while I’m gone.” Without further
explanation, he and the priest walked out of the firelight and started down the
road.

Davian frowned after them,
wondering at Nihim's sudden appearance. The older men's secrecy hadn't bothered
Davian back at the temple, but out here on the road was different. If Nihim was
coming with them, they should be told what was going on.

After a moment, Wirr came to
stand beside him, looking in the same direction.

“Do you want to go after them, or
shall I?” the blond-haired boy asked in a conversational tone.

Davian smiled slightly. “I’ll go.
Tell the others I’m… relieving myself, or something.”

Wirr just nodded, wandering back
towards the rest of the group.

Following Taeris and Nihim wasn’t
difficult; the light was fading, and the two men strolled along the road,
chatting amiably. At first the conversation seemed inconsequential, but then
there was a sudden silence, and when Taeris spoke again his tone was heavy.

“Is there any chance you’ll turn
back?”

Nihim smiled, shaking his head.
“It’s my time. We both knew it from the moment you walked into the temple with
those boys. El help me, but I’ll not hide from it any longer.”

“So you’re finally done with
Marat Jha?”

Nihim spat to one side. “Every
day I wore those robes I felt dirty. Yes, I believe I finally am. I can only
pray that El forgives me for the things I’ve done while wearing them.”

Davian crept a little closer,
keeping to the thick brush on the side of the road. Nocturnal creatures were
beginning to stir around him, masking any small noises he might have made.

“I wish I could have properly
repaid you for saving her,” Nihim said suddenly.

“There was never a need. You know
that,” said Taeris. “I’d make the same choice again if the opportunity came.”

Nihim grimaced. “But it lost you
your chance to go home, sins forgiven. I know how much that meant. Now, even
more than I did back then.”

“And now here I am, about to go
home anyway, but this time with evidence. And if I can convince the Council of
the danger, they’ll trip over themselves in their haste to make amends. Who
knows. Maybe they’ll even decide not to hand me over for execution.” Taeris
shrugged. “Everything for a reason, old friend.”

Nihim raised an eyebrow. “So
you’re going with them now?”

“I have to. When they were going
to be travelling with the other Gifted, the risk was acceptable. But by
themselves... even once we're through Deilannis, I can’t just send them off
with Caeden and hope for the best, not without knowing his purpose in all of
this. There’s still a very real chance he’s dangerous.”

Nihim inclined his head. “You
won’t hear any argument from me. Just… be careful.”

Taeris grunted in
acknowledgement, staring at the ground in contemplative silence for a few
seconds. “Do you have any regrets?”

Nihim didn’t respond for a
moment, lost in thought. Then he exhaled heavily. “I do. Of course I do. But
there’s nothing that stands out - nothing that breaks my heart or plays on my
mind. I served El as best I thought; beyond that, nothing is important.”

Taeris smiled. “A good life,
then?”

Nihim smiled back. “One that was
worthwhile. That made a difference. I couldn’t have asked for more than that.”

Taeris looked at the ground
again, swallowing. “You’re taking this better than I am,” he admitted, his
voice catching.

Nihim laughed. “I’ve had twenty
years to resolve myself to it. Twenty years of knowing I couldn’t die. Twenty
years of understanding that I was playing some small part in the Grand Design.”
He shook his head, putting a consoling hand on Taeris' shoulder. “It’s more
than I could have hoped for, probably more than I deserved. Don’t mourn me,
Taeris. There’s no need.”

Taeris nodded, releasing a shaky
breath. “I wish I had your faith. It would be a comfort, given what’s ahead.”

Nihim just smiled. “One day,” he
said with certainty.

There was another long silence. 

“We should get back,” said Taeris
eventually, glancing at the sky, which was now showing more than a few stars.
“Those boys have been glaring daggers at each other all day. I think the
princess may have saddled us with more trouble than help.”

Nihim grunted. “I’m surprised she
sent any help at all. And Shainwiere, whatever his faults, was a wily choice.
Too many swords would have drawn attention, but that young man will be worth
ten normal men to you in a battle. He may make the difference if a patrol
catches you out.”