“What actions?” His voice was taut. “Where?”
“In the desert of Haomane’s Wrath.” The dragon sounded amused and regretful. “Sssuch a sssmall choissse, on which to hinge ssso much. A boy and a bucket of water. Is that what you ssseek to know, ssson of no one?”
Ushahin, pale as death, nodded. “Yes.”
NINETEEN
Darkhaven shook with lord Satoris’ fury.
The very foundations trembled at the Shaper’s roar. Torches rattled in their sconces, flames casting wavering shadows against the black, marble walls. Overhead, storm clouds gathered and roiled, shot through with smoldering bolts of lightning. In the Chamber of the Font, the marrow-fire surged in blinding gouts and Godslayer pulsed, quick and erratic.
“Where?” the Shaper raged. “Where are they?”
Tanaros closed his eyes and touched the rhios in his pocket. “I do not know, my Lord Satoris,” he whispered.
“The Dreamspinner didn’t know, Lordship. Said the dragon couldn’t say.” Vorax tugged at one ear and scratched his beard. “Only it wasn’t heading here, like you’d think. Vedasia, he thought.” The Staccian shrugged. “Something about birds and Dwarfs.”
“It’s what the ravens saw, those who were shot.” Tanaros cleared his throat, summoning the will to meet the Shaper’s furious red stare. “Did Ushahin not speak to you of it, my Lord?”
“Yes.” It was a low growl, rising as he continued. “Of Malthus and deserts and ravens and Vedasia. Not of the Water of Life!”
Tanaros winced at the volume. “He didn’t know, my Lord.”
“So this Water of Life, it can put out the marrow-fire itself?” Vorax cast a dubious glance at the surging blue-white column of the Font, which was the merest manifestation of the Source below. “Take a river’s worth, I reckon. No need to fear, my Lord, unless Neheris Fourth-Born herself plans to cross the divide and Shape the rivers.”
“No.” The Shaper sounded weary. “You misunderstand, Staccian. The Water of Life is the very essence of water, drawn from the navel of Uru-Alat itself. It would take no more than a mouthful to extinguish the marrow-fire. And I … I did not know any lived who could draw it forth from the earth.”
There was a profound silence.
“Well,” Vorax said. “Why would sodding Malthus take it to Vedasia?”
Lord Satoris glared at him, raising his voice to rattle the rafters. “I don’t know!”
“My Lord,” Tanaros said carefully, pressing his fingertips to his temples to still the echoes. “Whatever else is true, it seems certain that he did. Malthus’ Company was seen in the marshes, and Carfax’s men vanished there. Ushahin said …” He cleared his throat again “ … Ushahin said seagulls bore rumors of a ship, sailing from Dwarfhorn. If it is so, then they are bound for Pelmar to unite with Haomane’s Allies.”
“Seagulls.” The Shaper’s glare turned his way. “Seagulls!”
“My Lord Satoris.” Tanaros spread his hands helplessly. “It is what he said”
The Shaper brooded, pacing the Chamber of the Font. Shadows swirled in his wake, and his eyes were like two red embers. “Ushahin Dreamspinner waits in Jakar,” he growled. “Haomane’s Allies march toward Beshtanag. The trap lies baited and ready. If my brother Haomane thinks I will fold my hand at this new threat, he is very much mistaken.” He halted, pointing at Vorax. “Lord Vorax. With two things, I charge you. You will use the Marasoumië to communicate my will to Ushahin. He is to summon the Grey Dam of the Were. Oronin’s Children do not wish to be drawn into war; very well. But this thing, they will do.” He smiled, and his smile was grim. “On pain of my wrath, they will hunt Malthus’ Company, and slay them. All of them, and most especially this … boy … from the Unknown Desert. The Water of Life, they will spill where they find it.”
“My Lord.” Vorax bowed, his rings glittering. “And the second thing?”
“I charge you with the defense of Darkhaven. To that end, I lend the Helm of Shadows into your usage.” Lord Satoris glanced at Tanaros, and his voice softened. “Forgive me, my general. You have born it nobly in my service. But I dare not leave Darkhaven without a safeguard.”
“My Lord Satoris.” Tanaros touched the hilt of the black sword at his waist “This is all I need. This is all I have ever needed”
Overhead, the stars continued their slow, inevitable movement.
In the desert, Ngurra raised his voice. “I hear you, old woman!”
She made an irritated noise, emerging from the spindly shadows of the thorn-brush to join him on the cooling rock. “You’ve ears like a bat, old man!”
He worked a wad of gamal into his cheek, smiling into his beard. “Bats hear much that is hidden from other ears.”
The red star had risen on the western horizon, riding higher than before. Warabi settled herself beside him, joints creaking. Together, they watched the stars revolve around the basin of Birru-Uru-Alat and the cleft rock-pile in its center. Alone among the old ones gathered at the Stone Grove, they kept the watch. As for the rest of the Yarru-yami, they were dispersed among the Six Clans. At Dry Gulch and Owl Springs, at Blacksnake Bore, Ant Plains and Lizard Rock, the Yarru had gone to earth.
“So it comes,” she said with sorrow.
“It comes.” He nodded, shifted the gamal wad into his other cheek. It fit neatly into a pocket there alongside his gums, teeth and tongue teasing out the bittersweet juices that sharpened the mind. “They have a choice, old woman. They all have a choice. Even the one who comes with a sword.”
“I know.” Her voice was muffled, gnarled fingers covering her face. “Ah, Ngurra! It is such a short time we have.”
“Old woman!” His hands encircled her wrists, swollen by a lifetime of digging and labor. “Warabi,” he said, and his voice was gentle. “An eternity would not be enough time to spend with you. But it has been a good time.”
Lowering her hands, she looked at him. “It has.”
“The children,” he said, “are safe.”
“But who will teach them if we perish?” Her eyes glimmered in the starlight. “Ah, Ngurra! I know what must be. I know we must offer the choice. Still, I fear.”
He patted her hands. “I too, old woman. I too.”
She stared at the stars. “The poor boy. Where do you think he is tonight?”
He shook his head. “The Bearer’s path is his own, old woman. I cannot guess. He has chosen, and must choose again and again, until his path finds its end.”
The dwarf ship docked at Port Delian, on the southern coast of Pelmar.
Carfax had the impression that the Dwarfs were glad to be rid of them, for which he did not blame them. Malthus’ Company had breached Yrinna’s Peace, destroying it irrevocably. As a war-proud Staccian in the service of Lord Satoris, he’d never had much use for peace.
Captivity had begun to change his perspective.
Peace, he thought, did not seem such an undesirable thing. Mayhap it would quench the killing urge he saw in the young knight Hobard’s eyes whenever the Vedasian glanced at him, or the cold calculation in the eyes of Blaise Caveros, who still considered him an unwelcome threat.