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be harmed.
 Perhaps. He sounded inexpressibly weary.  If I had not
already taken so much from you, I would call a halt here. My
vanity is not worth feeding at this cost.
Not your vanity. Kaveh, who does not want to die when
you perish. Would he take refuge in Rodhlann's children,
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generation after generation, unable to touch the world but
unwilling to let go? As much as Minau-who-was had loved
him, Muir found the idea terribly sad.
 We cannot quit, she told him.  I have not granted your
wish yet.
 You have already done more for me than I should have
asked. I would stop, before I take all you are.
Too late.
She gave him a wistful smile.  Sometimes one can only
walk a road until its end, Rodhlann. So ... let us walk.
Without looking to see if he followed, she quickened her pace,
falling in behind some weary-looking rebel soldiers.
It was a hard march.
Many of the supply wagons had been destroyed by Bedu-
born fires, and there was little game to be found along the
road. Merchant oases found themselves hard-pressed to
accommodate their needs, as the trouble in Inay had caused
trade to be sporadic. Hunger and sickness plagued them, and
Muir found herself playing the role of nurse. She saw
Rodhlann mainly at night, when he would seek her in silence,
his face pale as moonlight, and draw her into his arms. He
spent his days walking beside the limping Z'ev, answering the
man's questions and perhaps posing his own. Men shied away
from the one they named afreet, although hardship inured
them even to Rodhlann's strangeness.
The ancient road wound through the Arkyries and over the
foothills. It was dead country during Behrid, the sparse
vegetation yellowed with the cold. Even the insects were
silent, and the lizards had burrowed deep to sleep through
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the season. Only the Omintago remained wakeful, whispering
as she walked of its beneficence and beauty. Such a vain
river, the Omintago, but perhaps it had cause, as all its
brothers and sisters had dried long since, evaporated into
distant clouds that rarely gave back rain.
Then they parted ways from the river, passing deeper into
the waste. At night, the sands shone, glimmering with frost.
They camped beside the road most evenings, too weary even
to set up tents, for those who still possessed them. The rest
huddled together for warmth, rebels and Elite Guards
mingling freely, lest more of one side freeze, thus leaving the
other advantaged. And when the journey was nearly done,
they paused near Erathos. Strange to return so close to
home, when home was no more. Ballendin lay a few hours in
the opposite direction, but only ghosts awaited her there.
Just under twenty-hand soldiers and Elite Guard watched
while Z'ev dug around the stones, reclaiming something, but
Muir strode to the edge of the well and then knelt to peer into
its depths.  Shashida, she whispered.  I know you. I ...
remember. Is there anything I can do?
The water stirred and made an almost wistful sound, rising
toward her hand. Ridiculous to believe she could comfort the
echo of a goddess, but Muir was full of odd conceits and even
more unusual talents. A light touch on her shoulder made her
start; Muir spun and tried to straighten in one motion, tangled
her feet in her djellabah, and teetered on the edge of the
well.
She sighed as Harb steadied her with a large hand,
studying her with intent dark eyes. He did not look like the
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other Elite Guards; he was older and more worn, clad in a
ragged merchant's tunic and loose trousers, and he wore no
bracers. He made a scooping gesture with his hands and then
flicked them upward. She tilted her head, before guessing,  It
is safe to drink the water. She does not begrudge it.
He nodded, turned, and signed to Z'ev, who relayed the
information to his soldiers. The men lined up to fill their
waterskins; it had been some while since they left the
Omintago and all were down to a few brackish swallows. After
a brief rest, they continued toward Inay, whittling away the
distance while her uncertainty swelled. Act the part, and they
will want to accept you, Z'ev had said. But she had only
Immelia as an example of how an izzat's daughter behaved.
And Muir thought the men might murder her on the road if
she spent the journey barking orders.
They made camp some distance from Inay. Overhead, the
sky was the color of crushed plums, gauzy clouds hiding
Sahen from sight; Anumati was only a sliver of herself,
casting a diffuse light that softened everything. Muir sat near
Rodhlann, chewing the last of the jerky and naan, purchased
at the last oasis. Quite unexpectedly, Z'ev, Harb, and the
small man who acted as the interpreter for the Elite Guard
joined them. Another of Z'ev's men Muir thought his name
was Marid sat down quietly nearby. None lamented the lack
of a fire, though she would never again take for granted
warm food or a comfortable pallet. She thought her spine
must have permanent dents from sleeping on stones.
A screech broke the night, and a shadowy form dove from
the heavens. She flung herself down, protecting her bad arm,
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only to find the men chuckling at her. A golden bird lit on
Z'ev's wrist, digging its talons enough to prick the skin; she
suspected it would have taken the arm off anyone else.
There, it sat quietly, tilting its head from side to side.
Z'ev read the message it bore, then crumpled the stained
parchment in his fist.  It seems I still command some loyalty
in Inay. Harb, you remember Bron, the guard who manned
the gate the night Malak Tadit brought us word of Ballendin?
He has managed to hold his chancellorship and has been
sending reports with the hawks in hope one might find me.
The interpreter looked oddly somber.  What is the city's
status, Ksathra Z'ev?
Muir had noticed that the man, while tacitly in charge, had
begun to defer more and more to the exiled ksathra. She had
to admit, he cut an imposing figure. Even in his stained and
ragged robes, with his untended beard and wild silver-shot
hair, he possessed a certain presence that made one want to
follow him. His smile was full of melancholy, but his eyes
burned like the sun through topaz.
 The market has been closed for several days, at least at
the date of this message. Rebels fight openly in the streets,
and the maze has been fired. Food riots have broken out, and
Japhet has been hounded into the palace. I have no way of
knowing what has happened since.
Rodhlann wound an arm around her shoulders, as if the
civil unrest could harm her from such distance.  What do you
plan to do?
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 An excellent question. The ksathra looked pensive.  We
lack the numbers to reclaim Inay by force ... unless you plan
on eradicating the resistance as you did in Ballendin?
She sensed Rodhlann's amusement.  Muir would be
unhappy if I repeated the offense.
She wondered when her approval had become paramount
... and then she remembered. He did not have the power any
longer, but he did not want their enemies to know. Right now,
assumption of his strength kept the two of them safe, along [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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