Heart of the Exiled Page 14

  “Let me speak to them.”

  Turisan could just see the glint of Rephanin’s eyes in the shadow of the golden hood. The air between them tingled with khi, and Rephanin’s voice was low and intense.

  “I have never tried to speak to so many at once. Let me address them, call for your volunteers, and we will know by the response whether they have all heard.”

  “Very well.”

  The magelord turned to the assembled guardians. Turisan gazed at them as well, wondering which of them would be willing to go with him. High Holding was not an enviable post.

  If any … hear … now.

  Turisan glanced sharply at Rephanin. He had heard a whisper, the words mostly indistinguishable.

  Rephanin seemed not to notice his reaction. He spoke again, slightly louder than before.

  If any of you can hear me, answer now.

  Frowning, Turisan looked back at the guardians. Why this request instead of the call for volunteers? He had scarcely heard the message himself, so faintly had it been given, and he stood immediately beside Rephanin.

  No response came from the guardians. The magelord’s shoulders dropped slightly, then he drew himself up.

  Greetings, guardians of Southfæld.

  This time Rephanin’s voice was strong, and the Guard’s reaction was immediate. A shiver seemed to pass through the ranks—all of them, even the farthest—accompanied by a murmur of wonder and fright.

  I am Rephanin, master of the magehall in Glenhallow. I have been asked by Lord Turisan to assist him in addressing you. Pray give him your attention.

  Rephanin turned toward him, and Turisan realized he was being invited to speak. Swallowing sudden nervousness, he looked at the guardians.

  I am Turisan of Jharanin—

  As he spoke, he became conscious of the khi of hundreds of listeners and caught his breath. The sensation was muted—perhaps because Rephanin stood between him and his audience—but palpable nonetheless. He continued.

  Today I am forming an advance to occupy High Holding. I will take one hundred fifty from the new recruits, another hundred and fifty from the established companies. All who are willing, step forward.

  For a long moment no one moved, and Turisan felt an awful dread that none of the guardians would voluntarily join his advance. Perhaps he had judged wrongly. Perhaps the mindspeech had frightened them off.

  A guardian from the company nearest him—serious and bright-eyed, a seasoned campaigner by the dust ground into his boots—took a step forward, gazing steadily at Turisan. Another joined him, then several more.

  The ranks sprang alive with movement, and Turisan watched in growing wonder as nearly every guardian present stepped up to volunteer. He looked to Berephan. The warden gazed back at him from the saddle, his expression unreadable.

  “Well, make your choice of them.”

  Turisan glanced at Rephanin. The magelord nodded.

  I will wait.

  Smiling his thanks, Turisan hastened to his horse, mounted, and rode along the ranks, selecting guardians. He made sure to include the one who had been first to volunteer.

  Dirovon, mounted on an elderly mare whose head was lowered in a manner expressive of stoic endurance, waited at the head of a company in the rear of the assembly, one that had come from the camps in the foothills. Turisan smiled as he came abreast of his old friend. “I need a commander for the advance. Do you wish for the honor?”

  “The honor of freezing my soul on the plains before Midrange?” Dirovon laughed. “Well, it is better than freezing out here. Aye, I will have it, but only for the sake of your companionship.”

  “A poor reason to accept. My companionship will not be yours for long, as I must return to Glenhallow once you are established at High Holding.”

  “Why, then, I accept because I tremble before you, Mindspeaker!”

  Turisan grimaced, but Dirovon’s grin set him at ease. The captain handed his pennanted spear to his second and, leaving his company under her command, rode with Turisan back to where the new companies stood gathered in rough ranks, some still making their way forward.

  Leaving Dirovon to organize them, Turisan returned to Berephan and made a formal bow from the saddle. “Thank you, Lord Berephan. With your approval, I have chosen my guardians.”

  The warden looked at him long, in silence. Turisan sensed his discomfort but could not tell whether he was angry. He waited, and at last Berephan moved, nudging his horse toward the force that Dirovon was cajoling into order.

  “You did not tell me what you meant to do.”

  Turisan followed. “Did I not? I thought you had been present last night when I talked with Rephanin.”

  “About his speaking to your companies, not the whole Guard. And I did not know you meant to speak to them as well.”

  “If I have erred, I crave your pardon.”

  Berephan’s brow creased in a frown. “I do not know whether you have erred.”

  Berephan turned and summoned his herald with a gesture. The musician raised a silver-chased ram’s horn to his lips and blew the signal for dismissal. The Guard began filing away, back toward the training grounds to the east.

  Turisan returned to where Rephanin stood and dismounted. “Many thanks, Rephanin. You have been a great help. May I offer you my horse to speed your return?”

  Rephanin started to shake his head, then hesitated. “I—yes, if it is not a great inconvenience.”

  “None at all. I will have my hands full here all the morning.”

  Turisan offered the reins to Rephanin. “Give him over to the palace stable hands and ask them to send him back out to me.”

  Rephanin took the reins. “Thank you. I am most grateful!”

  Turisan laughed. “You could command a much better reward.”

  “At this moment, you could give me no better.”

  Rephanin mounted the horse, and Turisan thought he glimpsed fire in the gray eyes hidden within the hood’s shadow. Almost before Turisan could raise a hand in farewell, the magelord was off toward the city gates. Turisan watched him go, then turned to the shaping of his raw command.

  Rephanin lay in Heléri’s bed, his fingers entwined with hers, his soul steeped in her essence, from the scent of her body to the lambent glow of her khi. At dawn she had invited him to join her for a meal in her guest chambers at Hallowhall, and the rest had followed, to his great delight. He half suspected that Davharin had suggested the invitation. Heléri’s partner in spirit had joined their lovemaking again; Rephanin still sensed him, though distantly.

  Davharin?

  A suggestion of attentiveness washed through the peaceful drifting of his thoughts. Rephanin moved a little nearer to alertness, recalling a question that had been in his mind earlier but that he had not dared to voice.

  Do you know what is in our future?

  Rephanin sensed the contraction of khi that he now knew was Davharin’s focusing in order to use language, more necessary for the discussion of abstractions than of matters that could be expressed in symbol. He was becoming accustomed to Davharin’s methods of communication and thought the spirit showed an increased ease with language.

  Nothing is certain. Davharin’s voice was no longer overwhelming, though Rephanin suspected controlling it thus required considerable concentration on Davharin’s part. Paths are planned but may change.

  Rephanin swallowed disappointment. Can you give us no help? What of the kobalen—will we defeat them?

  I cannot tell you. We do help you in many ways. We are always near you, though you do not normally perceive us.

  Heléri stirred, shifting her position slightly, then sighed. She offered no comment, though Rephanin had a fleeting sense that she and Davharin had discussed these questions many times.

  I confess I had hoped for a more informative answer.

  A warm wave of sympathy came from Davharin. The future is fluid, and its course can easily shift. If I were to define answers to your questions, they could be false by the time t
he events took shape. They could actually mislead you and cause you to alter your path for the worse.

  I fear I do not understand.

  Yes. I have also tried to explain to Heléri, but the concept does not translate well.

  Rephanin turned his head to gaze at the beauty beside him, dark and pale, elusive yet unbending as stone when she chose. He delighted in her company and had found deep satisfaction—even healing—in their intimacy, but he knew their paths ultimately lay apart. She belonged to Alpinon, her lord’s realm. She had pledged herself to it when she had handfasted with Davharin and would return there when the Council was ended. Rephanin’s work, however, was here.

  Davharin, can you tell me if I will find a distance partner?

  That would not serve you.

  So you do know!

  Rephanin pressed his eyes shut, swallowing impatience. Perhaps the spirit realm’s guidance should not be spent on his own selfish interests.

  Davharin’s voice came to him gently, almost a whisper. I know only one thing for certain: Your search will be worth the effort.

  Rephanin’s eyes flickered open. A chill of hope washed through him, stealing his breath. Abruptly he sensed the spirit’s retreat. The conversation was ended. He closed his eyes again with a sigh.

  Thank you, Davharin.

  A shimmer went through the khi in the chamber, a moment’s effervescence, swiftly gone. Rephanin recognized it as the spirit’s form of a smile.

  Turisan worked the new companies until sundown, then returned to Hallowhall. Learning that the Council had dispersed, he sought his father’s private chambers, far less elaborate and far more comfortable than the governor’s public chambers. There he found Jharan enjoying a light meal with Lord Felisan, which they at once invited him to share.

  Jharan passed him a plate of cheeses. “The feast of leave-taking will be in the morning. I hope you will attend.”

  “Leave-taking?”

  Felisan sighed, a glint of laughter in his eyes belying his sorrowful tone. “Yes. It is time for me to return to Highstone, though it wrings my heart to go. Such good company, such excellent wine.”

  He held out his empty goblet to Jharan, who reached for an ewer. “Mayhap the three barrels you take with you will be of some comfort.”

  “Mayhap.” Felisan’s smile widened as he sipped.

  Jharan filled a cup for Turisan as well. “The Council concluded today.”

  Turisan felt suddenly breathless. With the Council ended, the war seemed closer, a reality, not a mere theory.

  “Forgive me for being absent.”

  “No need. Several were absent. But do come to the leave-taking if you are able.”

  “Of course.” Turisan looked to Felisan. “Do all of Alpinon’s delegation go with you?”

  “Aye. Pashani and hers are leaving as well. She is anxious to return to the Steppes.” He glanced at Jharan, raising an eyebrow. “We have not so much concluded as recessed. We will convene again in Highstone on the first of spring. By then we shall have much more to discuss, I warrant.”

  Turisan’s heart clenched. Eliani would have returned by then. Would he join her in Highstone for Midwinter?

  Thinking of her reminded him of the request she had made that morning, that he visit Heléri. He swallowed the rest of his wine in two gulps, evoking a frown of disapproval from Felisan.

  “I have just remembered an errand. Will you excuse me?”

  Jharan nodded, pushing a plate of food into his hands as he stood. “Eat something. We will see you in the morning.”

  Turisan walked to the guest suite that housed Alpinon’s delegation, nibbling nuts and dried fruit along the way. He reached Heléri’s door and knocked softly.

  Heléri smiled as she opened the door. “Lord Turisan. I am glad you chose to visit before I depart.”

  “I am glad for the chance to visit, but in truth I am sent here. My lady has a message for you.”

  Heléri looked politely curious and invited him to join her by the hearth. With a gesture she offered a nearby tray holding goblets and wine. Turisan shook his head, setting down the plate he had brought. Heléri leaned back in her chair and folded her hands.

  “What is the message?”

  “Allow me a moment.”

  He closed his eyes, sending a signal to Eliani. She responded at once.

  Greetings, love. We have just made camp.

  I am with Heléri. She is ready for your message.

  Very well. Let me find Luruthin.

  A pause followed. When Eliani spoke again, her khi betrayed a hint of strain.

  Do you remember the Three Shades?

  Turisan smiled. I could not soon forget.

  Luruthin and Vanorin claim they saw a shade there this morning.

  He opened his eyes. A shade?

  They believe so.

  Turisan looked at Heléri, whose brow grew creased with concern as she watched him. He licked his lips.

  “A shade appeared at the falls near Highstone.”

  He explained fully to her, passing along the details given to him by Eliani. As he did so, he felt a growing unease, which had to be at least in part from Eliani. He had no reason to fear the falls and had never seen a shade.

  Heléri listened in silence, the trouble in her face diminishing. When Turisan had conveyed the entire account, she gazed into the fire and softly sighed.

  “It must have been Josæli. Ghivahri did not leap.”

  Her tone was conversational and held no amazement at the subject of the apparition. Turisan gazed at her in surprise.

  “Can you have known them?”

  “No.” She smiled sadly and glanced up at him. “Though my lord did. He shared their story with me. A sad tale.”

  “What does it mean?”

  Heléri sighed, frowning slightly. “I cannot say. I believe the shades are aroused by great agitations of khi.”

  “Then they are an ill foretoken?”

  “I would not say ‘ill.’ Shades have no awareness; they are mere echoes. They cannot judge but only respond, and only in their limited way.” Heléri leaned toward him, laying a hand feather-light upon his wrist. “This visitation tells us what we already knew—that great movements are under way. Please tell Eliani there is no cause for alarm. The shades are harmless, though their appearance can be troubling.”

  Turisan nodded and closed his eyes to pass the message to his lady. She responded wryly.

  Troubling is not how I would have put it. Luruthin is upset—I know his moods—and so is Vanorin. Love, will you ask Heléri if the shades ever appear away from the falls?

  Heléri shook her head when the query was put to her. “I have never heard of their doing so.”

  A scratching at the door forestalled Turisan’s response. Heléri rose and walked swiftly to it.

  She says no, love, and someone has arrived now. Wait until I call to you.

  Heléri returned with Rephanin. Turisan hastily stood. He was aware that the magelord and Heléri had been much in company of late. He bowed and made as if to leave.

  “Rephanin. Good evening.”

  “Forgive my interruption.”

  “No, no. I am here only to deliver a message, and that is done.”

  He glanced from the magelord, who seemed restive, to Heléri, whose face betrayed nothing of her thoughts. Feeling his own presence was unwanted, he turned to Heléri.

  “Thank you for your counsel, my lady. I will bid you both good night.”

  She smiled and saw him out. He stepped outside into the chill dark of the colonnade and glanced back as she closed the door, catching a glimpse of Rephanin, whose eyes were suddenly afire as he looked at Heléri.

  Turisan felt a similar fire within himself despite the cold and darkness. Following the whisper of the fountains, he walked to the balustrade and leaned against it, closing his eyes.

  My love? I miss you.

  Eliani’s answer was wordless and strong. He let the feeling wash over him for a time, then bes
tirred himself, looking down at the fountain court. The moonlight was feeble and troubled by clouds. The fountains were restless, pale shadows in the night.

  Are Luruthin and Vanorin at all comforted?

  A little, I think. They have retired, and I am about to do so as well.

  Show me where you are.

  Turisan shut his eyes and let her take his senses. After a moment he perceived the flicker of a campfire, the resinous smell of pine. He sighed, wishing he were there with his lady.

  Now where are you?

  He showed her the night sky and the fountain court below, dizzy for a breathless moment as his sense of place shifted. He felt her momentary flash of fear in response.

  Cold.

  Yes.

  Does a fire await you in the Star Tower?

  He smiled. I am certain it does.

  Why do you wait, then?

  Without another word he left the balustrade and started for the stairs to what had become his private chamber. Eliani’s wordless urging spurred him on, promising a night in her heart’s embrace, which was second only to that of heart and flesh together.

  Shalár walked across a meadow, the army strung out behind her. Their pace was no longer brisk.

  She quested through the sparse woodlands ahead, seeking sign of kobalen, but found none. This terrain was not the sort where the creatures were likely to stop. It would be another day or two, if not more, before the army found kobalen again. They would last, but much longer than that and their strength would begin to fail.

  Onward. They must cross this open land and get into the woods by morning. Already two of them had suffered slight sun poisoning from inadequate shelter. She must get them under good cover by daybreak.

  She looked up at the Great Sleeper, whose northwest shoulder they were crossing. Deep in the mountain’s heart there was fire, but it had slumbered since before her birth. She glanced skyward, hoping for a glimpse of stars, but gray cloud covered all the sky.

  She pushed on, skirting a patch of fleececod growing wild at the edge of the meadow. Something odd caught her eye, and she paused, halting the hunters behind her with a gesture.

  Some of the fleececod bushes were bare. Quite a few were, she realized, glancing over the patch. Fleececod did not normally drop its old cods until the new buds of spring pushed them away.