“Just a minute.” Vannor confronted Meiriel. “Why do you have to find Aurian?”
“She needs my help,” the Magewoman replied. “Miathan put a curse on the child. She’s carrying a monster—”
“What!” Parric exploded. “The bastard! I’ll kill him!”
“Steady, Parric.” It took all of Vannor’s strength to restrain his friend from starting back up the tunnel. “This is not the time. We need to get away to safety before we can deal with this.”
They set off to join the other rebels at the sewer outfall, Sangra leading the way with Parric, who was still beside himself with rage and grief. Dulsina took Meiriel into her charge. As they walked, Elewjjxjdrew Vannor back, out of earshot of the others. “Listen,” he said, “Lady Meiriel may be telling the truth, but I’d caution you to take care. She may seem lucid now —but since Finbarr’s death she has been completely deranged. You’re dealing with a madwoman, Vannor. Whatever you do, don’t trust her.”
30
Raven
The Prince and his followers broke camp at sundown, pausing only for a quick bite of food before setting off again across the desert. Though the moon had not yet risen, there was plenty of light. The gem sands burned and twinkled in a multiplicity of crystal hues, holding the sunset glow long after it had left the sky. Wisps of sand, drifted gently across the ground by the errant night breeze, crossed their path like roaming wildfire beneath the stars. Aurian was strangely silent and preoccupied, and Anvar, riding by her side, was marveling at the surety with which Yazour seemed to find his way in this featureless land. Moved by boredom and curiosity, he rode forward to ask him how it was done.
Anvar caught the flash of Yazour’s smile beneath his veils. “Ah,” he said. “It is the magic of my people. The desert is bred into our blood, over endless generations ...” He laughed. “My friend, I’m teasing. There are ways, to be sure—the lie of the land, the drift of the dunes in the prevailing wind—but mostly I navigate by the stars!”
Anvar grimaced. “I never thought of that! I suppose it’s because the stars are so different here.”
Yazour’s eyebrows rose. “The stars are different? How strange! Tell me, Anvar, are all things different in your northern home? What is it like there?”
Anvar smiled, liking this young man, and wondered where to start. But he never got to reply, for at that moment, his horse gave a scream of pain and lurched over, stumbling and floundering in the soft gem dust. Anvar was thrown abruptly forward, struggling to keep his balance and his hold on the reins. Yazour cursed viciously and grabbed at his bridle, steadying the plunging mare and bringing her to a halt as Anvar slid down. The animal was trembling, the tip of one hind hoof barely touching the ground.
“Blood of the Reaper! It’s lame!” Yazour was examining the flinching hoof. The horror on his face went far beyond the exingencies of the situation.
“What’s wrong?” Harihn’s voice came harshly from above their heads as he pulled up his stallion beside them.
Yazour looked grim. “Anvar’s mount has been hurt.”
Harihn shrugged. “A pity,” he said coolly. “You know what to do, in that case.”
“But Your Highness—”
“See to it, Yazour!”
The warrior sighed. “My sorrow, Anvar,” he said softly. “If there were only some other way—”
“What do you mean?” Anvar was alarmed by the way Yazour was looking at him. As though he were already dead . . .
“It is the Desert Law.” Harihn’s voice was cold and remorseless. “We have no spare horses—the last went to those friends your Aurian insisted on bringing. Because we carry so little water, we cannot allow you to delay our progress to the next oasis. The Desert Law states that you must be left behind.”
“What did you say?” No one had seen Aurian approach. Her hand was on the hilt of her sword. She pushed back her veils, and her eyes glinted with a fey, steely light as she advanced on Harihn. “If you think I’ll let you leave Anvar here to die, then think again, Prince.”
“Lady, stay out of this. There can be no exceptions to the Law!” Harihn beckoned, and a ring of soldiers materialized around the Mage, their crossbows cocked and poised. “Will you fight my entire army for the sake of one man?” the Prince asked softly. Aurian’s cold eyes blazed. “Don’t make the mistake of threatening me,” she growled. Shia, at her side, punctuated her words with a menacing snarl. The Mage pointed a finger at the Prince. “I could strike you down before those bolts had time to reach me. Would you care to reconsider?”
“Lower those weapons!” Yazour snapped. The troops, schooled to a man, obeyed their captain instantly.
“How dare you!” Harihn spat.
“He has more sense than you,” Aurian said, dismounting.
“I’m sure we can solve this problem without violence, Harihn. Anvar, let me see your horse.”
Anvar held the horse while the Mage, frowning with concentration, knelt to examine the injured hoof. “Hmm,” she murmured softly, “nothing to see—but what’s this?”
As Anvar watched, her hands began to glow with a faint, violet-blue nimbus that extended over the foot of his mare. The Mage’s concentration was so intense that it seemed to spread outward, affecting all the watchers. No one stirred, or made the slightest sound. Just as the tension reached unbearable proportions, there was a grating sound and something slid out of the soft, sensitive sole of the hoof and into the Mage’s hand. “There,” Aurian crooned to the mare. “That’s better. Now to fix the damage . . .” The aura flared, then vanished. Aurian straightened, mopping her brow, as the horse set its hoof to the ground, lightly at first, then with increasing confidence.
A murmur went through the assembled soldiers. Aurian was examining something in her hand, her face suffused with rage. She held it out for Yazour’s inspection. On her palm lay a small sliver of metal. “The point of a dagger, if I’m not mistaken,” she said grimly. “It had been driven into the hoof, and every time the horse stepped on it—The poor creature must have been in agony! Whoever did it knew that with his horse disabled, Anvar would be left here to die. This was no accident —it was attempted murder!”
Yazour’s face was livid. “My apologies, Anvar, that this was allowed to happen. I swear the culprit will be found—and punished. Are you all right, Lady?”
“I’m fine.” Aurian was swaying on her feet.
“Let me help you.” Yazour assisted the Mage back onto her horse, and she turned to Anvar, her expression troubled.
“Stay close,” she told him. “Until we know who did this, we can’t take any chances. I’ll get Bohan to act as bodyguard.” She whirled her horse expertly on its hind legs, throwing up a luminous cloud of the scintillating dust, and was gone, calling for the eunuch as she went.
Harihn laughed scornfully. “Bodyguard, indeed! You need a wet nurse, Anvar. You should have remained a slave—or a eunuch! No man spends his life hiding behind a woman’s skirts!”
“Why, you . . .” Anvar leapt toward Harihn, ready to tear him from the saddle and rearrange his too handsome face. He was brought up short by Yazour hauling on his arm.
“No, Anvar!” Yaaeur said urgently. “He wants you to attack him! If you threaten the Prince, his soldiers will seize you, and not even your Lady herself could help you then.”
Anvar forced himself to breathe deeply, though he was trembling with rage. He looked Harihn straight in the eye. “Another time,” he growled. Then turning his back on the Prince, he mounted his horse.
Harihn’s comments rankled. Anvar rode beside Bohan, isolated behind a barrier of rage. As his horse’s stride ate up the miles, so his anger fed upon itself. It was too much. It was too bloody much! Would he never be master of his own fate? First a servant, then a slave, and now, it seemed, less than nothing! And because he had finally acknowledged his debt to Aurian, it was humiliating that he should be forced to depend on her so much. For the Gods’ sake, he had promised Vannor that he would look after her\ What a joke that had turned out to be! His furious thoughts chased in circles, as he rode through the night.