Path of Fate (48 page)

Reisil reached up and set Saljane on her shoulder, dropping her hands to her side. Closing her eyes, she let the lightning go, pushing it down and away until it drained from her. When she opened her eyes again, she knew they were clear, jade green.

“If you are asking me why the Blessed Lady trusts me, I cannot answer. If you are asking whether I can be trusted, I can only say that the Lady gifted me with a friend I did not want, a power I did not seek, and a responsibility that weighs heavily. I have come to cherish Saljane, as I do the Lady’s faith in me. I have always loved Kodu Riik, and I love life. But I am a healer, and I know that when disease takes a tree, it must be cut down, and when limbs become twisted and dangerous to the rest of the tree, those limbs must be pruned, if the tree is to live and thrive.” She paused, thinking of Kaval’s betrayal. “It is true that we sometimes trust those who are unworthy of it.” Her eyes slipped to Kebonsat and her heart contracted. She swallowed the sadness that rose in her, remembering his chill withdrawal and his courage in withstanding the Demonlord’s trial. “It is also true that sometimes we trust those who are worthy and deserving.”

The Dark Lord continued to watch her as if expecting more, and Reisil suffered his scrutiny, her cheeks stained red, her eyes still and level. Then he turned away, heaving again that gusty sigh of chill, bleak nights on the high ice. Reisil shivered as the frost crystallized on her hands, cheeks and eyelashes.

“Greatest Lord,” came a thin, ancient voice. The white-robed cleric had returned, leaning heavily on the shoulder of the boy, accompanied by a young wizard in black robes, marked at the wrists, collar and hem with patterns in white. The twisted wire triangle that Kvepi Mastone and Kvepi Buris had worn was not in evidence on his collar. The young wizard stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the white-robed cleric, his handsome young face pale, but resolute. “I greet you with gratitude and joy.” The old man bowed, held steady by the wiry strength of his
chela
.

“Priest of Whieche, it pleases me to see you, though I wonder, what is your part in this?”

“Greatest Lord, it sorrows me to say that you look now upon almost the whole of the Order of Whieche. Myself, my
chela
who is not yet pledged, and a handful of others who continue to follow the Bright Path in hiding, are all that remain. The rest have been drawn down the Dark Path or killed. Ah, it has been a wasting time for the order. But at last there will be a reckoning, a return to balance. We come before you: I, high priest of Whieche, and Kvepi Chollai, wizard of Nethieche, two halves of a whole, the Bright and Dark Paths circling endlessly in the sacred wheel of life and death, birth and withering. We stand before you at the will of Karalis Vasalis and Karaliene Pavadone, their marriage itself a pairing of the Bright and Dark Paths, as they each trained in one of our orders, so as better to serve you, Greatest One.”

Reisil started, her eyes flickering back and forth between the two monarchs of Patverseme, her mind racing at this revelation. Wizards? The both of them?

“Greatest One,” the young Kvepi Chollai said, kneeling to the floor. “I have come here not only at the behest of Karalis Vasalis and his Lady. I come here also for my brothers, who have long felt the taint of corruption within the Guild, but had no means to act, no means to know if doing so violated your trust. I come to you to beg guidance, to say that there are many of us yet who serve you faithfully and wish to see balance again between the Orders of Nethieche and Whieche.”

The Dark Lord stared down at the two men, his thick form shifting and pulsing like billowing smoke from a funeral pyre. At last he spoke into the waiting silence.

“I am pleased by your words. For gifts given cannot be withdrawn, and I should not like to destroy the Guild. But be assured, a cleansing will be done.” Reisil licked dry lips, remembering Kvepi Mastone’s death. “In the future, the gift shall be sown with more care. I, unlike Amiya, neither care to involve myself in human cares, nor do I find it so easy to give trust where it has been broken. But I warn you now, and let there be no mistake. My eyes will travel unblinking along the path of the sun and I will destroy the weeds that grow in my garden.”

His silver gaze flashed to Reisil and sharpened a moment, then passed to Karalis Vasalis and Karaliene Pavadone. “What you have done or not done has been answered, and the punishment stands as given. Let it serve as a reminder.” He turned to the priest of Whieche and his companion wizard. “See that the Guild is cleansed, for I will not be patient if I find you unequal to your words. Do not take overlong.”

With that, the shadow form lost cohesion, erupting upward like a gout of ash and smoke from a volcano. It rose higher and higher, then turned and plunged downward like a sea serpent diving into the ocean depths. Into the great hole in the center of the wizard’s summoning triangle he dove down into the earth until he disappeared, and with him, the bodies of the three wizards.

All that was left was Kvepi Mastone’s shredded robe and a glowing hole that sank deep into the nether depths, and from which a glowing heat pulsed, parching skin and eyes, charring the edges of the wood around the hole until they burst into flame.

For a long moment no one spoke, staring into the distorting waves of heat rising from the hole. In the soles of her feet Reisil felt a vibration and almost beyond the reach of her ears she heard a faint, faint grumble. Karalis Vasalis glanced about, seeing the frozen nobility beginning to move, faces tight with fright and confusion. He called guards and instructed them to escort the nobility safely away.

“We had best depart at once,” he suggested to his companions as the boards around the whole began to burn in earnest. “This place is no longer safe.”

He led them down from the pavilion, cradling his white, withered hand in the crook of his left arm. “Let us adjourn to camp farther up the river. We will speak and decide what must be done next. And sign that treaty.” He gave a grim smile to the Iisand. “I will have men prepare tents and food for us. There is a carriage for your lady.”

He turned away without waiting for an answer and snapped an order to Chamberlain Dekot, who had materialized beside him. The gaunt courtier nodded and then hurried away without a word.

Reisil took a breath, her gaze snagging on Karalis Vasalis’s ruined hand. “I might be able to—”

“No.” He gave a slight smile to soften his abrupt reply. “You are kind to offer, but it is a little enough price to pay. And one that I am meant to pay. Better to look to Mesilasema Tanis, who appears to have need of you.”

But when Reisil stepped to her side, the Mesilasema shrank away, moaning inarticulately and clutching at her husband. Reisil bit her tongue and stayed behind when the carriage came and Iisand Samir lifted his lady inside. Fehra clambered up on the driver’s seat, accompanied by Reikon. Juhrnus and Bethorn mounted horses and followed after the carriage.

“There will be peace.” It was not quite a question, mumbled through stiff lips as Reisil watched the carriage disappear into the night.

“For now, for a while,” Sodur answered, standing beside her and scratching Lume’s ears. “No little thanks to you.”

Reisil gave a sad smile. “Thanks to the Blessed Lady. Without her, I could do nothing.”

“Perhaps. But you proved yourself worthy of her trust, of her gifts. You did not fail her, or us. You were what Kodu Riik needed. So thanks go to you as well.” The ice in Reisil’s chest warmed with his words and impulsively she gripped his hand.

“Thank you for that.”

“Anytime. You are leaving now?”

“No reason to stay. I fear for the Mesilasema, but she will not let me help her, and Edelsat’s family is suffering greatly. If things are settled here—”

“They are, nor can you stay in the hopes of helping someone who won’t be helped. I too fear for her.” He shook his head. “But it is right that you should give aid to Edelsat’s family, and right that you should go now.” He looked around, seeing Edelsat standing a distance off, watching them uncertainly, his eyes like black wells in his pale, gaunt face. Sodur nodded at him and turned back to Reisil. “Come to us in Koduteel when you are able. There is much yet for you to learn, and many friends for you to meet.”

“I’ll do that. Give my farewells to . . . everybody.” Tears pricked Reisil’s eyes, for Kebonsat and Ceriba had gone away with the Karalis and Karaliene. She would have liked to speak once again to Kebonsat, to say . . . what? What could she say? She would see Ceriba again, she knew, in two weeks’ time. If Ceriba still wished to go to Elutark.

“Bright journey,” Sodur said as she gripped his hand again, and then she crossed to Edelsat.

Saljane tipped her beak to caress her
ahaladkaaslane
’s cheek. Reisil wiped a trickle of tears away, feeling the warmth in her chest expand. She had Saljane, would always have Saljane.

Edelsat welcomed her with a tired, tight twist of his lips and led her away to find the remnants of his men, and to begin their journey back to Mekelsek Keep.

R
eisil finished rubbing down the dun gelding, smiling when he butted against her leg, demanding a scratch on his ears. She complied and he let out a groan of satisfaction. When her fingers were tired, she patted his forehead and went to build her fire.

It was early yet for her to stop, but the ride from Priede had been swift, and she wasn’t due to meet with Ceriba until the following morning. She liked this spot. From her vantage point on the bluff, she could see across the river to the pink walls of Kallas. Below it her former cottage nestled amidst the fruit trees rustling in the light breeze.

“It is pretty, isn’t it?” she said idly to Saljane, dangling her legs over the edge of the cliff. Green tangles of berry bushes and cottonwoods screened off the sides of their camp. Saljane sat on a limb, tearing hungrily at a silver grayling she’d pulled from the river. Reisil munched on a handful of squashed strawberries Odiltark had sent with her. In her bag she had rosemary-roasted chicken, a sharp lemon cheese, a loaf of nut bread baked just the evening before, and a sack of tart chokecherry wine from last year’s pressing. Odiltark had pressed the foodstuffs into her hands, lamenting her scrawniness while still exclaiming over the seeds and sprouts she’d harvested on the leisurely ride from Mekelsek Keep.

“Funny, isn’t it? Seems like a year since I left Kallas, instead of just weeks. I hope someone has remembered my garden. I’d hate to see it all go to waste,” she said to Saljane, who did not answer, absorbed in gobbling her feast.

It did seem like a year to Reisil. She thought of how homesick she’d been, how much she had resisted walking the path the Lady had set for her. And now?

Now she eyed her former cottage with a tinge of regret, the kind of fond regard that is for bygone times, which are remembered better than they were, and which comfort in times of pain and fear. But the gnawing ache of it was gone, and in its place was a joy in being strong, in being the means of defeating evil and returning joy to those who had lost hope.

She did regret that she could no longer take the time to stay in one place and grow things. She took such satisfaction in watching the green curls unfurl from the earth, tending them as they spread leaves and opened delicate flowers. She thought of Kaj Mekelsek, crying heavy tears as she banished the plague from his home. Too late for his wife, but not so for his children and grandson. Not so for his servants, menat-arms and retainers.

She smiled to herself, stretching and cracking her back. Things would always grow, wherever she was, and she would tend what green things she could when she could. But now her garden was all of Kodu Riik.

She thought again of Edelsat’s father. Proud Kaj Mekelsek had wept unabashedly, offering gifts of gold, silver, horses and jewels. She refused all, accepting in the end only a saddlebag bulging with travel supplies, at the bottom of which she later discovered a fat pouch of gold and silver coins, and a necklace of heavy silver links, to which she attached the Lady’s gryphon amulet. The last was a gift of Edelsat, she knew, feeling a pang of sorrow.

He had come to her in the velvet darkness as she walked beneath the stars, stretching tired muscles, gratified that Edelsat did not have to watch his family die a torturous death. He had taken her hand, touched her face with gentle fingers. And in the darkness she had wanted his touch, wanted to be held, to stroke his warm skin, feel his heart beating beneath her cheek.

But it could not be so. He continued to hold her hand when she’d spoken in pained fits and starts of her bruised heart, already given to another, sent to a cold shore where it found no welcome, no comfort, only rocky indifference.

“I wish it were me, but if it is not, then a better harbor your heart could not have found. Kebonsat is not thinking well—his sister stolen away and so abused, his father missing, perhaps dead. His own torture and near death. Ellini help us all. But his heart is large and I have seen his eyes on you. They are not the eyes of indifference.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Reisil had replied hopelessly, grateful for the comfort. “For our lives must be separate, his to grow sons and take the title of his house, mine to serve Kodu Riik in the Lady’s name.”

Still, when she rode away, she had taken the knowledge of Edelsat’s deep friendship with her, and the rebellious hope of something else.

She quickly sloughed her melancholy like an old skin, letting the sun warm her spirits. She stopped often to dig plants, to listen to the unfamiliar patter of the mountain birds, to sit by a still mountain pool and gaze at the reflection of the sky in its depths. She had nearly two weeks to make the journey and no sense of urgency.

It was a healing time, to reflect, to fly with Saljane—and no more fear of heights. She walked to the edges of precipices, gazing into deep-cleft forest valleys, across vistas of rock to faraway purple mountains she didn’t know the names of. It was a time to feel herself, to know herself, to walk in silence in the green cathedrals of towering redwoods, sleep beneath the sweeping boughs of traveler pines, breathe the sharp, red cedar-scented air, drink of crystal mountain streams and watch the gamboling antics of growing fawns and playful river otters.