Path of Fate (31 page)

“Because—” She stopped. What reason was good enough? Love? Loss? Hope? Fear? She looked into the Lady’s watching eyes, colors brightening and melding, then fading as new colors surged. Realization struck.

This was a test. A test of who she’d become and what she learned, as a tark and
ahalad-kaaslane
. Sodur had said she would not come before the Lady before she proved herself. Now she had forced her way, and must still prove herself.

“Because you can,” she answered finally, speaking clearly, quivering chin held high. She felt the truth of her words into the marrow of her bones, and her voice rang with it. “And you love life and you love Kodu Riik. When infection sets in, the tark tries to cure the body. Sometimes you must cut away pieces; sometimes the body dies for all you try to do. But the goal is still to make it healthy, to keep the people healthy. Kodu Riik is sick right now. Patverseme too. And Esper and Juhrnus are part of the cure. They’ll both die, if you will it, to serve Kodu Riik. But now Esper’s death is pointless. It doesn’t serve. And without them, we might not succeed.”
We might not succeed with them.
Reisil clamped down on that stray thought, hoping the Lady had not read it.

A slow smile broke across the Lady’s face and she nodded.

“You have learned well, child.” She stretched out one hand, holding it up for Reisil to see. She gasped. The Lady’s fingers were hooked like talons and the nails were shards of crystal limned with silver and gold. She rotated her hand that Reisil might see fully. For a moment Reisil didn’t understand; then she saw the patterns on the Lady’s skin—green like a field of hay, gold like ripe barley, red as autumn willows—patterns of leaves and vines appeared on the Lady’s white skin like translucent tattoos, shifting, changing, like wind over water.

“I am the land, I am its life and its protector. You are my children and I do not like to see you hurt. But sometimes the old bull elk makes food for the wolves; sometimes the young leopard starves for lack of hunting skills. These things happen, and must happen, for it is life and the balance must be maintained or there will be chaos and horror.”

Reisil froze, hearing in those words an implacable refusal. She looked at Esper and Reisil felt that abyss of loss opening wider, spinning like a whirlpool, tearing bits of her off and sucking them down into a void of nothingness. Her head bowed, heavy with a weight she could not bear.

“But you are right. This death serves no purpose.” Reisil took a breath, uncertain that she’d heard what she heard. She cast a wild look at the Lady, who still watched her, assessing. Then the Lady nodded and came to stand behind her, putting one clawed hand on her shoulder, soft as a falling snowflake, heavy as a mountain avalanche. Reisil felt Esper’s chest jerk beneath her fingers. Power filled her like a current of liquid sunlight. It traveled through every part of her, down to her fingers and toes, warming the frigid cold in her heart, spinning light into the abyss at the center of her soul. She drew deep, sobbing breaths, each one filled with light and joy.

Then the power ran down her arm and into Esper and she watched as the color flared bright in his hide and his eyes blinked with the glow of returning vitality. Inside, his broken back knitted, his burst veins reached out to one another and connected. His tail twitched and curled up around Juhrnus’s arm. Her childhood nemesis gave a shout of joy and tears pricked Reisil’s eyes.

“That’s enough.”

Reisil took her hand away, and watched in amazement as gold drops formed on her fingers and dripped over the emerald grass. Where they fell, flowers sprang up in a riot of color.

Suddenly Juhrnus and Sodur and their
ahaladkaaslane
began to ripple. They faded from sight. The Lady removed her hand and came around to face Reisil, who continued to kneel, awe written in every plane of her face.

“Thank you,” she whispered, clutching her hands together.

The Blessed Lady smiled and brushed Her fingers over Reisil’s mud-caked hair.

“You have done well.”

“You are not angry at me? Because I refused Saljane for so long?”

“You, more than any other, understand what it means to be
ahalad-kaaslane
. Because you hold both of my gifts—tark and
ahalad-kaaslane
. You, more than any other, are a true
ahalad-kaaslane
. The first one of my children, Talis, was like you.”

She reached out and scraped a crystal talon over the pendant. “I made this for him. To accept both gifts is a difficult burden, requiring great strength and courage. The gift was offered and you have come to your choice with an open heart. Could I be angry at your care? To fulfill both is hardest of all. Wise are you in recognizing this. Luckily it is not often necessary to ask one of my children to take on such a task. Since Talis, there has been only one other who has worn both mantles.

“But now there is great need. Kodu Riik will not survive a continued war. The land will become barren and so will her people. I had hoped Upsakes would recognize this and aid in the peace. . . .” The Lady bent and picked up a small animal—Kasepu. The little weirmart shivered and clutched at the Lady, mewling and crying. Reisil recognized the sound. It was the same one Juhrnus had been making. A sound of profound grief and loss. Her heart ached for the poor animal. The Lady stroked the distraught weirmart, turning a sad face to Reisil.

“She has been betrayed, more than I. Upsakes lost his way. He became arrogant, thinking of the glory of Kodu Riik rather than its health and safety. This is why you are needed. He has corrupted many with words of alarm and promises of vengeance. Iisand Samir remains steadfast to me. He did not threaten Kallas. Those were lies to create dissent and support for Upsakes’s plan.”

She sighed, a strangely human and unexpected behavior. “You must stop this war. You must decide what flesh must be cut away, what cure must be wrought to save Kodu Riik. And you must see that it is done. It will not be easy. It will be bloody with a great deal of death. But if you fail, the cost will be far higher.”

She stopped, her gaze resting on Reisil with an unsettling intensity. Reisil swallowed. She had already thought of these things—of having to kill in order to save others. She nodded, agreeing, knowing she was committing herself to horrors she could not yet comprehend, but also that it was necessary and that in doing so, she served the callings of both tark and
ahalad-kaaslane
.

“Good. Then I have one more gift to give you.” The Lady bent so that She was eye-to-eye with Reisil.

“Your journey has taken you into the realm of Pahe Kurjus, the one you call Demonlord. I have little influence in his lands, as he has little in mine. But he permits magic in his realm, and therefore you may benefit from this.”

She reached out her hand so that the razor-edged talons of Her thumb and forefinger hovered before Reisil, filling her vision. Then they shot forward, stabbing into Reisil’s eyes.

Reisil screamed as hot pain exploded and tongues of fire swept through her head. Then as fast as it had come, it was gone.

She blinked and could see. The Lady stood upright, stroking the weirmart as if She’d never moved.

“You know of the wizard sight—to see in utter darkness without light. Now you have such sight also. You will find also that your skill with healing will be greater than before. Focus your mind on what you want to accomplish, and it will happen. But I warn you, use what I have given you sparingly. It will drain you even to the point of death. There will always be more illness than you can heal. Remember you are both tark and
ahaladkaaslane,
and that you must allow the cycle of life to happen.” She looked at Saljane for a long moment and Reisil could sense a conversation between them.

She looked back at Reisil. “Serve me well in this, for I depend upon you to choose the right path.”

Reisil nodded dumbly, overwhelmed, and once again the silvery-gold light suffused the glade, closing around Reisil like a cloak of cedar-scented feathers, warm and comforting. The light faded and Reisil found herself back in the clearing, the scent of cedar filling her lungs.

“Reisil! At last you have come back. Are you well?” Sodur aided her to stand, careful not to jar Saljane. Reisil smiled at him, feeling a spurt of amazement that she could see him so clearly in the dim firelight. She glanced around, seeing Juhrnus sitting with Esper, the two communing together, nose to nose. Kebonsat had been caring for the horses, and now approached her, a look of frowning thunder on his face.

She saw everything with crystal clarity, as if the moon shone like the sun.

“I am well, though Saljane is poking holes in me, and I wouldn’t refuse a bath.” Sodur fetched her gauntlet and slid it up over her arm. Saljane shifted so that he could maneuver it beneath her and then he buckled it in place. Reisil flexed her arm and stroked Saljane’s head, the bird ducking down so that her
ahalad-kaaslane
could reach better, crooning deep in her throat.

~
I am glad you are here. I didn’t think I was going to see you again after Upsakes dumped me down the bank.

~
I would fly through fire for you.

~
I know. We are
ahalad-kaaslane.
I am understanding what that means. I know you have half my heart, my soul. Together we are one.

~
Yes.
Saljane bumped her head harder into Reisil’s hand, radiating pleasure and joy.

“What happened to you?” Kebonsat stood opposite her, hands on his hips, his feet splayed, looking like a bull trembling on the edge of rage. Reisil knew his rage stemmed from concern. To fight and kill one of the men he trusted most in the world, then to have his companions evaporate into thin air—he was off balance, and only in anger did he find comfort and control.

Reisil gave a gentle smile and reached out for him. She caught her breath. The welts on her arms were gone! And for the first time she realized the pain in her ribs and face was gone as well. Her smile widened, dazzling in the firelight gloom.

“I have been with the Blessed Amiya. And look what She has done!” She held her arms out so that he could see.

“Saljane—how do you feel?”

~
Strong. Can fly high and far.

Reisil laughed. “She is well. Now we will be able to ride fast and Saljane will spy out the way.”

She put her arm around Kebonsat’s shoulders, feeling the tension in him. “The Lady wills that we shall find Ceriba and prevent the war. I have much to tell you all, but first I would wash and then eat.” She glanced at Juhrnus and then to Sodur. “You might try to get him cleaned up as well.”

With that she retreated down to a shallow scooped-out cove along the river where the water chuckled merrily over its stone bed. When she returned, she found Kebonsat turning a pair of fat grouse on a spit. Sodur and Juhrnus were nowhere to be seen.

“Bathing, downstream,” Kebonsat told her when she asked.

Reisil nestled close to the warmth of the fire, studiously ignoring Upsakes, who lay hunched on the ground where Sodur had left him. No matter that his feet and hands were bound, that he could neither see nor speak through the blindfold and gag. Reisil felt his presence like a sucking vortex of hate and rage in the evening stillness.

She concentrated on pulling her comb through the tangles in her hair, letting the repetitive motion smooth her jangled emotions even as she smoothed the wild mess of her hair. Saljane perched on the stack of firewood nearby.

“If this wandering about is going to be my life from now on, I think I ought to just cut it all off,” she complained with a yelp when she tore out a knot.

“I have often thought the same thing,” Kebonsat said with an unexpected lightness. He came to sit behind her, taking the comb and sliding it through her hair. “It’s a tradition that nobility in Patverseme keep their hair long, but damned inconvenient, especially when traveling across country.”

“Don’t you usually have squires or someone to help?”

“Aye, and tents and armor and cooks and furniture. Not on this journey, however. And I have never been a good housekeeper or valet.”

“Must be a terrible hardship for you,” Reisil teased.

“Terrible. Ah, what wouldn’t I do for a bubble bath, a hot brandy and someone to clip my toenails.” Reisil glanced over her shoulder at him. He looked perfectly earnest and she giggled.

“You know when I first met you I thought you were an ass,” she said. “Arrogant and puffed up, staring down your nose at everybody. You surprised me, though. You let Ceriba badger you in the kohv-house, and the way you smiled at each other—pure mischief.”

“Thank you, I think.” A shadow crossed over his face and his smile leached away.

“We’re going to get her back. She’ll be all right.”

The look on his face was haunted, his eyes full of inexpressible pain. “I’ll not forgive myself if—”

“There are no ifs. We
are
going to get her back and she
is
going to be all right. Now give me back my comb and get to turning that spit. If you burn our dinner I’ll tell your father you simply cannot be sent out into the wilderness without a full entourage, including your own personal nail-clipping, brandy-warming bath maid.”

Kebonsat began to laugh and Reisil smiled. This she knew how to do—to break the tension, to help someone deal with fears and pain. She prayed to the Blessed Lady that she was right, that they would find Ceriba safe and rescue her.

And then prevent a war.

Simple.

Reisil sighed and yanked on her hair. It was time to tell Juhrnus and Sodur about Kaval, and Upsakes’s lies. And then make a plan.

A
fter supper, expectant silence fell as Reisil settled beside the fire with a cup of mint tea, resting her elbows on her knees. Esper coiled in Juhrnus’s lap. Juhrnus circled his arms around his
ahalad-kaaslane,
eyes red-rimmed. Lume stretched full-length beside Sodur, his silvery fur gilded by the light of the fire’s flames. Kebonsat sat to the side of Reisil, his expression lost in the shadows. The night was chill this high in the mountains, and Reisil hitched herself closer to the fire.