Swords Over Fireshore (37 page)

Eliani sighed, nodding. Her throat tightened and fresh grief washed through her.

“He will join the Lost.” Her eyes were blurring with tears, and she rubbed at them impatiently.

“It is fortunate he has such friends to go to.”

Eliani nodded. “Yes.”

Suddenly the grief overwhelmed her and she gave a gasping sob. Angry with herself, she stood and turned away, leaning a hand against the cold rock of the cliff as she struggled to control her emotion. A moment later a hand touched her shoulder, and warmth spread through her.

Startled, she held still. At first she thought it was healing, but then she knew it was merely the strength of Ulithan's khi, warm and gentle, filled with subtle power. She was awed by its depth. She turned, tears forgotten, and gazed into Ulithan's eyes, then laid her head upon his shoulder as if that were the most natural thing to do.

The water skin sloshed as he dropped it. His arms folded around her and Eliani closed her eyes. She felt a deep satisfaction ripple through his khi, and realized that he had longed for this, only a simple embrace, for centuries.

They stood still for a long while, breathing together, sharing khi. Eliani's brow grew warm and she returned the signal for delay. She would explain this to Turisan later. This did not breach her vow, and she needed it as much as did Ulithan.

At last the sound of approaching footsteps made them part. Eliani stood blinking at the bright snow while Ulithan bent to retrieve his water skin.

“Eliani?”

She looked back toward the cave and saw Vanorin hurrying toward them, following their tracks in the snow, concern in his face. Her own face was burning. She hoped Vanorin would not notice, or would think it caused by the cold.

“I was beginning to worry.”

“We were talking.”

Vanorin looked at Ulithan and started in surprise. He glanced at Eliani, who nodded.

“Ulithan does not suffer the effects of the curse. Only his appearance was changed by it.”

Ulithan stepped forward with the water skin slung over his shoulder. “I have been so discourteous as to suggest that you should leave here tonight, not because I tire of your company, but because your friend hungers.”

Vanorin looked at him sharply. “I suspected you knew.”

“You will find no kobalen above the snowfall. You must travel down to the foothills, and even there you may not find them. Follow the Varindel down to the edge of the steppes, then cut north to the Bitterfield road.” Ulithan looked at Eliani. “It is not the most direct path to Bitterfield, but in this season the road is your best choice.”

Eliani nodded, resigned to it. This far south, pursuit from the alben was unlikely, and at least near the road they would have a better chance of finding kobalen.

“You have been very kind to shelter us. You must be wishing us gone.”

“No.”

It was said softly, with a tenderness that rang in Eliani's heart. She looked at Ulithan and saw him smiling at her with an expression so fond it made her cheeks burn afresh. She smiled briefly in return, then turned away and started back to the cave. Vanorin fell into step behind her.

The warmth of the cave was a comfort. Luruthin looked up as they entered, and managed a wan smile. Eliani smiled back as she joined him by the fire. She put another stick of wood on the coals and rubbed her hands together over them.

“Cold outside?”

“Yes, but clear. The sun is out.”

He gazed at the fire. Eliani saw a swallow move his throat.

“We will start tonight.”

Luruthin glanced at her, then nodded. “I have delayed you.”

“The storm delayed us. No matter. We would not have met Ulithan otherwise, and that would have been a great loss.”

She felt Luruthin's gaze upon her. She reached out to shift the wood, pushing it to a better position. A small flame appeared beneath it.

“Ulithan has agreed to let me show his history to the Council.”

“He will give you his scrolls?”

“No, no. He will make copies.”

“Ah.”

Eliani had encouraged Luruthin to read the history as well, but he had not cared to, and she dared not press him. He was grieving his own fate, and to read of other sufferers would be no comfort. She feared his sorrow might yet drive him to abandon his flesh.

Vanorin sat down between them. Ulithan moved about the cave, humming as he hung up the water skin and fussed among his shelves. Eliani watched sidelong as he took a large skin from one of the pegs and began to stretch it over a frame of lashed branches.

“We can reach the edge of the Steppes tonight, if we go swiftly.”

Eliani looked at Vanorin. “Will your ankle bear it?”

He nodded, then briefly smiled. “Thanks to your ministrations, my lady.”

Eliani sighed, wishing her ministrations could help Luruthin as well. She leaned her back against the cave wall and closed her eyes. Turisan was waiting. With some trepidation, she sent him the signal asking his attention.

Eliani!

He said no more, but she could feel his unhappiness and confusion. She reached out gently, very gently, with a warm thought.

Forgive me, love. I have been talking with Ulithan.

Talking!

Yes. And he held me for a moment, when I was overcome with sadness for Luruthin.

Turisan's dismay rolled through her in waves. She felt his fear that she would betray her oath to him, and knew that she had caused it. The flash of anger that rose in her at this mistrust she set aside. Her atonement would be to reassure him.

Here is how it was, my love.

She opened her memory to him, showing him Ulithan for the first time, laying all she had learned of this strange new friend bare to Turisan's exploration. It was frightening; she had not opened herself so completely since the night of their handfasting. Had Turisan held any ill will toward her, she was entirely vulnerable.

There was no ill will, though; only the fear which was fading now, the ripples smaller and smaller until they grew still. Turisan traced her memory of the conversation by the spring. She gave all to him, trusting that he would honor the promises she had made to Ulithan.

At last there was no more to remember. They were silent together for a long while. Eliani waited, hoping Turisan would understand and be reassured that he was yet, and always, her only love.

You comforted him as much as he you.

Yes.

Why is he so stubborn in keeping alone? He would benefit by visiting an ælven town now and again.

Eliani smiled at hearing him express her own opinion. Only picture his reception, love. They would not understand.

I suppose not.

Roguish mirth swept through his thoughts. Perhaps we can find a volunteer to offer him consolation.

Eliani chuckled aloud. Will you send out the call, or shall I?

Hm.

No, we cannot. I have promised to tell no one where he dwells.

A stirring nearby made her open her eyes. Luruthin had put another stick on the fire. Beyond him, Eliani saw Ulithan seated before his stretched skin, but he was not working it. His hands lay still at his sides as he gazed intently at her. A tingle went through her shoulders.

He knows, love. He knows we are mindspeakers.

How can he know? You have said nothing, nor would the others.

He can feel it.

Ulithan looked away, picked up a sharpened stone, and began scraping at the skin with long, gentle strokes. Eliani felt her cheeks flood with color, and wondered, though she thought it impossible, if Ulithan was aware they had been talking of him.

III

Ghlanhras

 

T
he Steppegard bowed low before the edge of the dais where Shalár sat, not meeting her gaze. “Bright Lady.”

She gazed at him a moment, taking in the changes since she had last seen him. His curling hair was now streaked with white, and his clothing showed the wear of many nights outdoors. The hunters who had escorted him forward stood watching him with suspicion.

Shalár smiled. “I did not expect to see you again, Kelev.”

He tilted his head upward just enough to look up at her. “You once offered me refuge, Bright Lady. I have come to see the wisdom of accepting, if I may yet claim it.”

“Come to see wisdom?”

She saw him tense, and knew that he feared she would seize his khi. That fear was enough.

She stood and walked toward him. To keep his gaze on her he must either kneel or stand. He chose the latter, which she expected. He had always been a prideful creature. Her hunters bristled.

She stopped at the edge of the dais. “Yes, I remember offering you refuge. What can have possessed me, I wonder? I ceased long ago to make such offers to ælven who acquired the hunger. They were never able to adjust.”

“Perhaps you saw a greater potential in me, Bright Lady.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps I did.”

He lowered his voice. “Perhaps you felt there were ways in which I might serve you.”

Shalár's lip curved in amusement. “I am certain there are ways in which you might serve me.”

She turned away, summoning one of the hunters with a gesture as she strolled to one side of the dais. “Go to my chambers and take up watch at the door. I want to speak to this one in greater privacy.”

The hunter nodded and went away down the corridor. Shalár looked back at Kelev.

“Come.”

She beckoned him with a jerk of her head and went after the hunter without looking back to see if Kelev obeyed. After only the slightest hesitation, she heard him following.

The hunter took up a place outside her door. Leaving it open, she led Kelev into the work room, seated herself at the table, and waved him to a chair. He sat and waited, gazing about the room while Shalár dipped a black quill in ink and pulled a page toward her.

“A pity about your hair.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. It means you cannot go among the ælven to gather information for me.”

Kelev gave a cough of laughter. “Lady, I could not go among them in any case. I have become rather notorious, I fear.”