Raven's Shadow (41 page)

Seraph raised an eyebrow, but cleared her throat. “Emperor,” she reminded Brewydd.

“When you're as old as I am,” said Brewydd. “You can call anyone anything.”

Phoran smiled. “It's my Memory,” he said. “It's all right, Tier. Go to sleep, I'll tell them.”

The Emperor patted the end of the bed and found a safe place to sit. He spoke quietly and told them how the Memory came to be bound to him. At some point in the story, Tier drifted off.

 

“They were guarded,” said Brewydd, after Phoran finished his story. “It couldn't take them. In the normal course of things, unable to feed, it would have just drifted away. But you were there.” She nodded her head. “I've heard of something like that happening. The Memory attaching itself to the wrong person. As long as it gave something back, its victim will continue to live. What did it give you?”

“Answers to my questions,” said Phoran. “That's how I found Tier.”

“Why was it able to kill the Masters now?” asked Seraph. She was touched by the way that Phoran kept patting Tier's feet.

“They were draining themselves trying to control the Passerines and fight our wizards,” explained Brewydd. “I expect that weakened the protections that kept the Memory from killing them before.”

“It will leave Phoran in peace, then?” asked Seraph.

“If it has accomplished its task it should,” said the old woman. “I suppose your son will understand that the life of an emperor who just might be what this Empire needs is worth a little discomfort. Tell your man to try not to make anyone mad enough to hit him in those knees again and he'll be right as rain in a month or so. I'd better go back and see if my services are needed elsewhere.”

Phoran got up reluctantly. “I suppose I'd better go as well—before some idiot thinks I'm lost.”

“I'll be fine,” Tier said faintly. “Go reassure the idiots.”

Phoran was laughing as he left. Seraph shut the door and took Phoran's place on the end of the bed.

“Is there anyway I can lay down beside you that won't make it worse?” she asked.

“No,” he sighed without opening his eyes. “Come here anyway.”

When she was tucked against him, he buried his face in her hair.

“Telleridge killed Myrceria in front of me,” he said. “He'd had her tortured, but she didn't tell him anything. Telleridge didn't know about you.”

“There was nothing you could have done,” Seraph said, hurting for him and for the woman she'd met only briefly.

“How do you know that?” he whispered, because he needed to believe she was right.

“Because if you could have done anything, you would have. It's all right, Tier.”

“He was her father, and he tortured her and killed her,” said Tier. “And he enjoyed doing it. Was he shadowed?”

“Can't people be evil on their own?” she asked with a sigh. “You'll have to ask your sons; Ravens can't see shadowing—but I think so. Shh,” she said. “I love you. She did, too.”

She let him hold her while he cried quietly into her hair until the tiredness of being healed overwhelmed him. Then, between one breath and the next he slept.

 

Seraph awoke from a doze to a light knock on the door. Carefully, she extracted herself so Tier slept on undisturbed.

Lehr and Jes waited out in the hall. Seraph motioned them out, went out herself, and shut the door so they wouldn't disturb Tier.

“I told him what Papa said,” said Lehr. “Jes said he didn't kill anyone.”

Seraph looked up and down the hall and quietly explained.

“It's fine, Mother,” said the Guardian. “No one will be much more afraid of me than they already are.”

“Mother,” said Lehr, “You need to hear why Jes left the Eyrie.”

“I was following a black-robed wizard,” said the Guardian. “Father was right, all the wizards were tainted. But there was one . . . did you see him, Lehr?”

“No,” Lehr said. “I only saw the five wizards the Memory killed.”

“There was one who left when the wall disintegrated. He wasn't just tainted, Mother, he was the taint itself.”

“Like the Unnamed King?”

The Guardian nodded. “I didn't see the taint at first, Mother. I followed the wizard out of the room and into the halls on the other side of the wall. Before I could get close, the Memory was there. It touched the wizard.” The Guardian flinched. “I don't know what the Memory did, but it felt as if a veil had been pulled away and revealed the wizard for what he really was.” He took a shaky breath. “Jes is very brave, Mother, even I don't scare him—but what hid beneath the wizard's illusionary veil was evil. The wizard hit the Memory with some kind of magic, and the Memory was just gone. The wizard didn't see us. When it left, we didn't follow.”

“Good,” said Seraph, reassuringly. “You did the right thing.”

“When I caught up with him,” said Lehr, “he showed me where the man had gone—and I couldn't find his trail. Mother, I could see where rats had been running down the hall, but I couldn't pick up his tracks.”

 

Seraph touched Lehr's shoulder. “It's all right,” she said and hoped it was true.

If it hadn't been for Skew, Tier would have had to wait
another week before setting out for Redern, but the old horse's soft gaits were easy on Tier's ribs. He seemed to understand that Tier was hurt: not even Gura's anxious weaving in and out around his legs caused Skew to alter his smooth stride.

If he remembered to breathe shallowly, it didn't even hurt too much—but he didn't like to do that, because it only increased the number of Seraph's anxious glances. She had wanted to wait, but he needed to get home to Redern—needed to have all of his children together where he could protect them.

There was another Shadowed who walked the land.

There were other explanations for all that had passed. He wasn't certain if even Seraph really believed it in the light of day—but the Healer knew. She hadn't said anything, but he could see in her eyes that she believed.

Tier glanced over at the brightly colored cart that Brewydd rode in. It was her voice, he thought, that had made Benroln insist on accompanying them back. Benroln had said that Phoran would do better without Traveler aid now that the Sept of Gerant was there.

Doubtless Benroln was right about that. The Sept of Gerant
had said as much when he'd come to see Tier off in lieu of the Emperor. The political situation was unstable and Phoran clung to the throne primarily because there were so few of imperial blood around to fight him for the Empire. Phoran had wished him good travels in secret the night before they'd left.

“I like your Gerant,” said Seraph. “He reminds me of Ciro, a little. Quiet and unassuming until his skill is called upon.”

Tier smiled down at his wife who walked at his stirrup as if she were afraid he'd fall out of the saddle. “He liked you as well. Told me that I'd made a good exchange when I chose to follow you instead of the sword.”

“He laughed when you told him you were a farmer,” she said.

Tier glanced at her sharply, but her face was tilted down, watching the ground.

“Not this year,” he said. “But with the money Phoran sent us back with we'll be able to survive this year and buy another horse to replace Frost for next planting season.”

“You don't think we'll be planting next season either,” she said softly, her hand coming up to grip his calf.

He shook his head, then realized that she wasn't watching him. “No,” he said.

She took a step closer to Skew, until her shoulder pressed against his leg. “I don't know what awaits us, but I don't think the Stalker is through with us yet.”

Jes laughed, and Tier glanced up to see the Traveler Raven Hennea stalk away from his son. He'd thought at first that she was younger than Seraph until he'd gotten a good look at her eyes. When he'd asked Seraph, she'd told him she didn't know how old Hennea was either. Ravens seldom lived as long as Larks, but it could be very difficult to tell how old they were.

He'd worried until he'd seen how she watched Jes when she thought no one was watching. He knew what love looked like.

“Today,” Tier told Seraph, “the sun is warm on my face. Let's save tomorrow's troubles for tomorrow.”

Patricia Briggs
lived a fairly normal life until she learned to read. After that she spent lazy afternoons flying dragonback and looking for magic swords when she wasn't horseback riding in the Rocky Mountains.

Once she graduated from Montana State University with degrees in history and German, she spent her time substitute teaching and writing. She and her family live in the Pacific Northwest, where she is hard at work on her newest project.

Visit her on the web at
www.hurog.com
.