Path of Fate (44 page)

She reached out her arms and sent blistering shafts of energy through the chain. The power crackled and, one by one, each wizard winked out like a blown candle, until the barrier was gone, until all that was left of the wizards were black, smoking husks like a charred string of pearls.

Reisil stood a moment, power roaring inside her as the alien hand withdrew. She could do more, much much more. She could destroy every one of them, every wizard, every Patversemese soldier. The temptation pulled at her. If there was no Patversemese army, no more wizards, there could be no war.

Sudden horror gripped her throat and she yanked back on the ready power. How could she even think it? Snakes, rats, fleas and leeches each served their purpose in the cycle of life. To annihilate the wizards out of hand would ruin the balance. To kill the army would be entirely evil. These men had families and children.

The power subsided quickly. Reisil felt it draining away into the ground and air. But it wasn’t really gone. It would always be there, waiting. Like lightning in a jar. What trust the Lady had put in her!

She glanced at Saljane, whose eyes had returned to the familiar amber, and whose beak no longer glowed, though the tracing of golden ivy remained on her beak, as it did on Reisil’s own face.

~
We are Her hands. We will never break Her trust.

She felt Saljane in her mind, the pride, the emotion deeper than love, the devotion to the Lady. Reisil nodded, then looked around at what she’d wrought.

The Enclave was now ringed by a border of scorched earth, broken every few paces by the smoking remains of a wizard and melted blobs of iron that had been oil lamps. Reisil stood keystone at the center of the destruction.

Silence reigned, punctured here and there by piteous moans and agonized cries as those who had stood too close found blood running from their noses and ears. Acrid smoke drifted in a dense, ghostly fog, making Reisil tear and blink. She turned. For a hundred-pace radius around her, a hollow gouged into the ground, fully three feet deep. She stood on a narrow island in the center. Beyond that, a fearful crowd assembled—soldiers, lords and ladies. She turned again, looking for Kebonsat and Edelsat. They stood on the edge of the hollow, faces gray, staring at her, aghast. Blood ran from Kebonsat’s forehead and cheek; more soaked his right sleeve. She turned again.

Sodur stood before her on the floor of the hollow, Lume beside him. He smiled gently, holding out a hand to help her down. She transferred Saljane to her shoulder and took his hand gratefully.

“Quite a show,” he said in a comfortingly normal voice.

“Let’s hope it’s enough. I’d rather not do more.”

Sodur stopped, looking into her face sharply.

“Could you do more?”

Reisil lifted one shoulder in a half shrug, avoiding his searching gaze.

After a moment he said, “You have come a long way since becoming
ahalad-kaaslane
. It is said that wisdom is not given. We must discover it ourselves, after a journey through the wilderness that no one else can make for us, and that no one can spare us, for wisdom is the point of view from which we come at last to regard the world. I could not imagine that you could have made such a journey to such wisdom and courage in such a short time. But the Lady saw far better than I. You are indeed all that she could have hoped for in her chosen one. I am proud of you.”

Reisil felt herself blushing and she squeezed Sodur’s hand gratefully.

“I don’t feel wise. I feel lucky. Blessed.” She stroked Saljane and the goshawk nipped at her fingers.

At the edge of the hollow another hand reached down to help her up. She clasped its callused warmth and found herself face-to-face with Reikon. He smiled at her, as gently as Sodur had done. “Bright evening, Reisiltark. I am Reikon. I am pleased to meet you at last.” Reisil had no time to reply as the chestnut-haired woman with the corvet slapped her on the shoulder.

“Well done! I am Fehra.”

Juhrnus added his congratulations, and Ceriba touched her hand. Reisil felt warmth from these people, pride. They did not fear what she’d done, what she was capable of. She smiled gratefully at these strangers who were her family. Then they were interrupted by the Iisand Samir’s cultured tones.

“We are indeed pleased to see you, Reisiltark. And amazed. But we must resume our council with Karalis Vasalis if we are not to see the war reborn. Where are your companions?”

“Are you sure you want to?” asked Fehra, her expression as feral as her corvet’s.

The Iisand stilled, his face becoming hard and unforgiving.

“What do you propose?” His voice was soft, dangerous, but Fehra pushed on. As
ahalad-kaaslane,
she had no need to fear him.

“We now have power to counter the wizards, so we don’t really need this treaty anymore. Especially with Scallas going after Patverseme’s other flank. We could beat them.”

“We might indeed win, but the cost would be too high. One more death would be too many. You’re talking about revenge, and while I certainly don’t mind seeing those wizards sent back to the Demonlord, I’m not going to put my people through any more fighting if I can help it. If nothing else, what Reisiltark has done here will help firm Patverseme’s commitment to the treaty. They can’t afford two battlefronts.”

“The Lady told me She wanted peace,” Reisil added softly. “Knowing Her will, I could not aid in further war.”

That ended the discussion. Fehra looked disappointed, but not angry. Upsakes must have had support among the
ahalad-kaaslane
. Could Fehra have been in on the kidnapping? There was no way to tell. Reisil resolved to keep an eye on the other woman.

Just then Edelsat and Kebonsat arrived with the wagon of prisoners. The group retreated back to the pavilion, where Karalis and Karaliene waited with Bethorn. The two monarchs of Patverseme held themselves stiffly apart, looking pale and suspicious.

Seeing Kebonsat and Edelsat, they thawed slightly. Kebonsat held Ceriba firmly against his side, brushing aside her concerns for his wounds.

Reisil they eyed with chill aversion.

“I wasn’t aware that Kodu Riik had any wizards,” said Karalis Vasalis to Iisand Samir. “My people will not respond well to this slaughter.” His nostrils flared and Reisil could feel his anger waxing hot. He might be at odds with the Wizard Guild, she thought. But Kodu Riik was his enemy.

“As mine did not to Mysane Kosk,” retorted Iisand Samir.

“We were at war then. We are not,
now
.”

“No, we are not. Do you wish to be?”

A muscle in the Karalis’s cheek twitched as the Iisand waited. Finally he gave a short shake of his head.

“No. But I don’t know how I’ll explain this to my people.”

“You can tell them the wizards are traitors,” interjected Kebonsat.

“What do you mean?” Karaliene Pavadone skewered Kebonsat with her glittering stare.

“We killed a wizard who was helping the kidnappers, and another plotted with Kvepi Buris to prevent us from getting here.” Kebonsat described the attack tersely, leaving nothing out. When he came to his healing by Reisil, his eyes flicked toward her, but once again he avoided her gaze.

He was afraid of her, Reisil realized, and felt a sudden sickening in her stomach. She liked him, had enjoyed his company. Her cheeks flushed in sudden realization of her own feelings. She cared for him more than that. But if the healing had terrified him, she wondered what he’d made of her destruction of the wizards’ circle.

She bit her tongue against the grief bubbling up inside her. There wasn’t any time for it.

Her eyes flashed to him. She’d almost forgotten Kvepi Buris’ angry threats. Was Edelsat’s mother really dead? How did his family fare? Her body jerked as if to rush away to help. But she forced herself to be still, knowing the need was greater here. But as soon as she could, she would race to help his family.
May I be in time,
she prayed.

Edelsat caught her eye as if reading her mind. His lips tightened and he gave her a slight nod. Whatever his feelings over what she’d done to the wizards, he clearly did not fear her. But then, in her he saw hope for his family’s survival, not just dreadful power. What did Kebonsat see? And could she blame him? Look at what she’d done to those men. The stink of charred flesh hovered over the camp, a constant reminder of the massacre.

She stroked her fingers down Saljane’s back, feeling the rumble of the goshawk’s soundless croon.

“If Reisiltark had not broken the wizards’ circle, we would no doubt be at war right now,” Kebonsat said, completing his explanation. He might believe it, Reisil thought. He might even be grateful for it, but she still repulsed him.

The two Patversemese monarchs exchanged a speaking look. Then Karalis Vasalis nodded and Karaliene Pavadone’s lips curved slightly in a smile of pure malice. She motioned to a stiffly correct, tall, balding man, the lapels and cuffs of his austere black coat embroidered with the crest of the royal house picked out in violet and gold. He bowed deferentially, his heavy chain of office swinging free from his chest as he fluidly executed the movement.

“Chamberlain Dekot, announce a formal session to convene in two hours. I require full representation by the Guild and the Lords Council, but invite all else who care to listen. And send four of your best scribes to me at once.”

The chamberlain nodded, then bowed again and backed away with practiced ease.

“What about my father?” demanded Kebonsat.

Karalis Vasalis frowned. “We will demand that the guild produce Kvepi Buris and your father, but not until after the session. I don’t want to tip our hand.” His dark eyes were kind as he gripped Kebonsat’s shoulder. “Maksal is my good friend. If I could do more, I would.”

During the two hours while they waited, the weary travelers were provided with food. Reisil ate ravenously. Reikon and Sodur sat on either side of her, plying her with questions.

Her Patversemese companions had retired to a different tent to refresh themselves, and Reisil found herself missing Edelsat and Kebonsat equally. Soon she would part from them both, probably forever. The grief she’d stifled came rushing back, and with it came the sickening loss when she realized Kebonsat’s fear of her. The savory bread turned to ash on her tongue.

She swallowed convulsively, glancing at Sodur and Reikon, at Fehra and Bethorn. They all seemed easy in her company. Upsakes notwithstanding, the
ahalad-kaaslane
were the friends, the family, she’d see again and again.

“Time to go,” Bethorn said, peering outside. “Should be quite a show.”

“They’ll sign the treaty, won’t they?” Reisil asked.

“It is as vital to them as it is to us, though that does not always win the day. We shall see,” the Iisand answered, emerging from behind the drapery, his arm around his wife. She appeared pallid and weak.

“Is something wrong?” Reisil stood and moved instinctively to the Mesilasema’s side, halting when the other woman drew back against her husband with a gasp.

“My wife is expecting our fifth child in five months.

Always before she’s been strong and healthy. This time . . . I tried to convince her to stay in Koduteel while I dealt with this business here, but she would have none of it.”

The Mesilasema lifted her wan face to chide her husband. “You knew better than to ask,” she murmured.

“I may be able to help,” Reisil offered. Seeing Mesilasema’s fear at the suggestion, Reisil backed away, the blood draining from her face. She swallowed past the hard lump that knotted her throat. “You have only to ask and I will come straightaway,” she said in a stiff voice.

The other woman nodded, averting her eyes, and her husband led her away, his face shadowed with concern. The group of
ahalad-kaaslane
followed, Sodur and Reikon walking beside Reisil. Their presence comforted her as they made their way through the throng of whispering, pointing people, all staring angrily at her.

Patversemese royal guards escorted them up the stairs to the crowded pavilion. The tent had been removed and overhead the moon and stars glittered like ice in the sable sky. They found themselves ordered to a spot near the dais where Karalis Vasalis and Karaliene Pavadone now held court. Gone was the table about which they’d met before. In its stead had been set two high-backed thrones made of black oak carved with twisting symbols that seemed to melt and flow wherever the eye settled for a moment. Reisil rubbed her forehead and averted her eyes from the disquieting carvings.

The glittering nobility formed a waiting, hostile horseshoe in front of the dais. The three black-robed wizards stood on the dais to the right of Karalis Vasalis’s throne, the aged white-robed cleric standing farther back. He leaned heavily on the shoulder of his
chela
—a young boy with a black-stubbled head and a predatory face. The Iisand and Mesilasema were escorted to two lower and slightly less imposing thrones to the left of Karaliene Pavadone. These were also made of black oak, but lacked the mystical symbols of the Patversemese thrones.

The Mesilasema wilted into her seat, hands clasped over her stomach, her shoulders hunched. Despite her efforts to seem collected, she appeared weaker and more drawn. Karalis Vasalis nodded to Dekot, who gave a short, sharp gesture. The liveried seneschal struck his staff three times against the hollow floor. The booming sound echoed like a death knell and Reisil swallowed.

“Hear ye, gathered peoples of Patverseme and Kodu Riik. It is with gravest honor that I present the wise and powerful Karalis Vasalis and the radiant and beautiful Karaliene Pavadone, exalted by the stars, anointed by the gods.” He turned and gave a low, sweeping bow to the two monarchs, and then backed away.

Several moments of absolute silence passed. Neither Karalis Vasalis nor Karaliene Pavadone seemed inclined to break it, scanning the assembly with brooding deliberation. At last the Karalis signaled to Chamberlain Dekot, who stepped forward, unrolling a hastily scribed scroll. His voice rang loudly out across the gathered crowds, their faces distorted and deformed by the torchlight.