But I am reckless, she thought. I took the pact. I won’t leave Lorcan. I’m planning to abandon my family before they can abandon me.
She had always known Havilar was Mehen’s favorite-a little detail that rubbed against her heart like a grain of sand, until she hardened against it. It just was. But last night … last night, he had been afraid-they all had been afraid-and he had blamed Farideh for everything.
In fact, she thought, the only person who had asked her if she was all right at any point in that terror of a night, was Lorcan.
She rubbed her arm where her scar lay, dull and ordinary as it had been for the rest of the night and the entirety of the morning, and wondered, for perhaps the hundredth time that morning, whether Lorcan was all right.
Lorcan was lying about the rod. Farideh had gone off into the woods before they left and tested it. Nothing but her usual spells. Nothing extraordinary. It didn’t make the wave of fire happen on its own. The fact that Lorcan had lied to her-or at least talked her in a circle again-had her grinding her teeth.
But at the same time she was so grateful he had wrapped his arms around her and given thanks she wasn’t dead. Even though the archer had shot Havilar, Farideh looked into his eyes and saw-without a doubt-that the orc wanted her dead. When she tried to sleep, all she could see were those dark, vicious eyes watching her as if she were prey, and Havilar’s wound becoming her own.
If she said this, Mehen would be angry she wasn’t worrying about Havilar.
If she pointed out only Lorcan checked to see if she was all right, he would think Lorcan was corrupting her.
But if she was walking all the way to Neverwinter, worrying about the fact that her scar hasn’t so much as twinged … had he been corrupting her?
She squeezed her eyes closed and opened them wide a few times. Maybe someone would call for a halt. Not her, not after last night. She’d rather pass out on her feet then ask Mehen to stop.
Havilar dropped back to walk beside her, and for a few dozen feet, she didn’t say anything. She tucked her arm around Farideh’s.
“You’re swaying a little. And you’ve got shadows under your eyes, worse than ever.” Havilar kept step with her, watching her face. “Do you want me to tell Mehen I’m going to throw up?” she whispered. “So we can stop? I might throw up from the poison, right?”
“No,” Farideh said. “It’s fine.”
Havilar squeezed her arm. “I never said thank you,” she said quietly.
“You would have done the same.” Farideh cracked a smile. “Probably quicker, too, and with less … excess.”
“No,” Havilar said. “Well, yes, that. Thank you for getting rid of him. But I meant the arrows.” She clutched Farideh’s arm a little more tightly. “Gods, you can’t imagine how they hurt … Mehen might have been upset, but I’m glad you did cut them out. Especially since it probably wasn’t easy.” She swallowed. “Actually I might throw up if we talk about it.”
“Let’s not then,” Farideh said, and she squeezed Havilar’s arm back. They walked a little farther on, before Havilar pulled her to a stop.
“I told,” Havilar whispered. “I told Mehen about Brin. And the spell he did. The prayer. It wasn’t fair,” she said when Farideh tried to interrupt, “that he was blaming you for the arrows.”
“What did he say?”
She hesitated. “I was trying to help.”
“Havi? What did he say?”
Havilar bit her lip. “He’s angry we lied. And he’s still angry about Lorcan. I thought you said Lorcan wouldn’t come through if there were people around?”
Farideh shook her head. “He does what he wants, I suppose. I’ll work on it.”
“Mehen thinks you ought to-”
“I know what Mehen thinks.”
Havilar let go of her arm. “Well I think it too. Where does this end? You aren’t even trying to get rid of him anymore.”
“No one told you to get rid of Kidney Whatsit, there, just because you kept hitting people on the head when you started. I just need a chance to practice.”
“There’s a very big difference between a devil and a blunted glaive. And it’s Eater-”
“Oh, go argue with Brin!”
Farideh hurried to catch up to the rest of the group, where Havilar would be less willing to give her trouble. After last night, it was all too clear what Havilar’s problem was: she was jealous. Jealous of all the wrong things, Farideh thought. Havilar didn’t care that Farideh could cast a wall of flames or make lava erupt out of the ground. Havilar cared that somebody was paying attention to Farideh and not to her.
Havilar was jealous that Farideh was doing something without her.
She lifted her head and saw Tam watching her. She dropped her eyes and scowled at the ground. As far as she knew, the silverstar hadn’t worked out that she was a warlock, but the way he looked at everything it seemed far more likely he knew and just hadn’t decided to say anything. Yet.
“There it is!” Brin called.
From the crest of the road, Farideh could see the shattered remains of old Neverwinter, the bones of the new city growing over them. In places, the reborn city looked as if nothing had ever happened to it. In others, the damages of the fall of Neverwinter were fresh as if it had happened mere tendays ago. Rivers of hardened lava poured down the mountain’s slopes. The wide wall that stretched away as far as she could see was broken through in places. And slashed across the western end of the city-
“Karshoj,” Havilar breathed. She clambered up on a rock. “What in the Hells is that?”
Beyond another high wall, dotted with soldiers on patrol, a rift split the southwest quarter city in twain. It was as if some god had taken an enormous blade and sliced through the surface of the city, peeling open the world and leaving behind a deep wound that festered with blue fire. The hairs all along Farideh’s spine stood up.
“Spellplague,” Brin said.
“Spellplague?” Havilar repeated, excitedly. “Hells and broken planes-do you think there are spellscarred here? It would be so exciting to have a-”
“Thrik!” Mehen barked. “Don’t you even tease about that. If you so much as go near that rift-”
“All right,” Havilar said. “I was only saying.”
Farideh watched the dancing blue light that illuminated the deep rift and played up the crumbling walls. How many people thought the same as Havilar joked? — that there was power to seize there, that it might be harnessable. That they might be able to tame something as unpredictable as spellplague. As many as think the same of devils? she thought bitterly.
“What if the quarry went near it?” Havilar said. “Or into it?”
“Then we let her go, because none of us are going near that,” Mehen said. “And stop trying to make up reasons to.”
The size of the remaining walls beggared belief. Like mountains, they distorted the distance between the rise where they’d first spied the city and the gates themselves, and it was only as Farideh registered the people ahead of her on the road that she appreciated the massiveness of the city wall of Neverwinter.
The road leading to the gates of the city was crowded with carts and horses and bodies. Farideh pulled her cloak closer and concentrated on keeping the shadows from swallowing her up.
The guards at the gate kept a close eye on them as they passed, but between Tam’s shabby stateliness, Brin’s well-cut clothes, and Mehen’s stiff back, the guards seemed to approve of their little group well enough, and pointed them in the direction of the northern districts.
Now, Farideh thought. Now is when you do it. She looked at Havilar, and thought about their argument, the last one they might ever have.