Thialnir did not make Ra-khir wait. "No, Ra-khir, they're gone."
"Gone?" Ra-khir needed more. The Renshai rarely used euphe misms, especially for death.
"Calistin rode north to demand the battle that should have been his to fight."
Ra-khir inhaled sharply in sudden understanding. "He's riding into thousands of enemies to challenge Valr Magnus?"
Thialnir smiled, which seemed inappropriate to Ra-khir. "Did you expect otherwise, Sir Knight? Pen-fruit doesn't grow on hadongo trees, and aristiri hawks don't hatch from lizard eggs."
Ra-khir managed only a slight upward twitch of the corners of his mouth. It was more of a tolerant smile than an amused one. "I get it. You're saying Kevral was a maniac, so I should expect the same from my boys."
"Kevral?" Thialnir reared his head backward in exaggerated surprise. "Kevral was simply one of many brave and talented Renshai. The maniac, as you so eloquently put it, is Calistin's father."
Me? Ra-khir did not know what to say.
"As I understand it, you single-handedly declared war on the Westlands' largest city."
"Well, yes, but-"
"And engineered a prison break through the high kingdom's impossible maze."
"That was-"
"Looked upon Valhalla while alive, volunteered to face unknown physical and magical dangers on multiple worlds, and even took Colbey Calistinsson's prized stallion."
"Now wait a second! I didn't take Colbey's horse. He gave it to me." Ra-khir realized how ridiculous that sounded even as the words left his lips.
But Thialnir only smiled more broadly. "I rest my case."
It was not worth arguing, even if it weren't all true. Ra-khir sighed. "You couldn't stop Calistin?"
"I could more easily have stopped the Ragnarok, I think." Thialnir's grin turned lopsided. "Besides, he disappeared immediately after the battle. There was no chance for talking."
Ra-khir knew he had no choice but to go after Calistin, to keep him from committing suicide out of a sense of obligation or, worse, retaliation. "And Saviar?"
Thialnir looked around Ra-khir toward the fire. "Saviar, I could have stopped. But I didn't."
Ra-khir blinked. It sounded like a foolish answer, but Thialnir was no fool. For the moment, he reveled in the knowledge that both boys had survived the battle and let Thialnir explain.
"His brothers needed him more than we did."
"Brothers?" Ra-khir felt certain he had heard the plural. "You mean Subikahn was here, too?"
As always, Thialnir got right to the point. "Yes, though not officially. He remained hidden."
Ra-khir's brow furrowed, and he fell silent as he pondered the significance of that information.
As if in direct response to the thought, Thialnir explained. "Calistin's too impulsive and would benefit from Saviar's common sense. And Subikahn returned without his torke, which means he's in some kind of trouble in the East. Given that he's a prince, it's likely serious; and his refusal to actually join us, his own people, suggests he may have murdered Talamir and can't face us. Saviar claims he got himself banished from the Eastlands."
"Subikahn banished from the East?" It seemed utterly impossible.
Thialnir's huge shoulders rose and fell again. "I don't know if it's true, but Subikahn and Calistin needed Saviar more than I did. So, I told him to go. It didn't take much encouragement."
Ra-khir loosed a pent-up breath, thrilled to learn all three of Kevral's boys still lived, at least until their own stupid, adolescent bravado got them killed. At any rate, they're together. United, it would take an army to bring them down.
"By the way,"Thialnir added, not quite conversationally. "I promised not to tell anyone about Subikahn."
Ra-khir froze. He raised his head ever so slowly to meet Thialnir's gaze. "Then… why did you tell me?"
Thialnir loosed a chuckle. "Because you needed to know. If I'd mentioned in advance it was something I wasn't supposed to pass along, you wouldn't have let me tell you."
"Of course not."
"But now that you know, you'll have no choice but to keep the secret, too. So, no harm done."
Though glad he knew, Ra-khir wished Thialnir had not deceived him. No Knight of Erythane would willingly become complicit in the breaking of confidences. But now that he had the information, Thialnir was right. He had to keep it confidential. "Not very nice, Thialnir."
Thialnir rolled his eyes. "Renshai aren't known for their sweet dispositions." He extended a hand in friendship. "Can I make it up to you with a good meal and a protected place to spend the night?"
Ra-khir knew he had a lot of work ahead of him. Tracking hundreds of people moving together to a known destination had proven easy. Following three youngsters randomly northward across the enormous Westlands would prove a much more formidable task. "I accept your hospitality with gratitude, though I question your honesty about that meal."
Thialnir's brows rose in question.
"Any group of men about to hurl an unskinned, unbutchered deer onto a blazing fire knows absolutely nothing about cooking. The stink of burning hair itself might kill us all, and it will take a week to cook through whole."
"Ah, but I didn't lie, Ra-khir.You and your…" he paused.
"Apprentice," Ra-khir filled in. "Darby."
"You and your apprentice are here to oversee the cooking; so, if you stay, you will get the good meal I promised."
Ra-khir could not deny the reasoning. "Thank you, Thialnir. We accept your kind, and honest, invitation. I consider it an honor to dine among Renshai."
Thialnir smiled but said nothing. The words were diluted by the realization that, not long ago, Ra-khir ate with Renshai every day. I consider it an honor to dine among Renshai. Likely, Thialnir had never heard such a thing before. And it pleased him.
Subikahn awakened with a start to find himself flopped over a deadfall, his brother's sword still clenched in his fist. He had no memory of falling asleep nor of what might have awakened him. The fire had burned down to ash and glowing cinders. Beside it, Saviar sprawled beneath piles of clothing, breathing in uneven snores and moans.
Breathing. That one realization reassured Subikahn. He sprang to his feet, shaking the last vestiges of slumber from his thoughts and movements. Only then, he realized it was a misplaced sound that had awakened him. He cocked his head, trying to rediscover it: the shuffle of a human footstep, a ladylike sneeze. Poking his head through the brush, he glanced along a path so lightly traveled he had assumed only deer walked it toward the pond from which he had filled their waterskins. Now, he saw a young woman striding along it, carrying an earthen jug.
Hel? Dressed in a light, swirling fabric, auburn hair billowing in the breeze, she little resembled the half-rotting, centuries-old depictions of the Underworld goddess Subikahn had seen. Yet, he also knew the gods had magic to shapechange. They also had plenty of minions.
Subikahn leaped onto the pathway, sword raised. "You cannot have him!"
The girl screamed, dropping the jug, which shattered in the dirt.
Torn between attacking and apologizing, Subikahn lowered his sword.
The girl ignored the broken crockery to focus fully on Subikahn. She turned sideways, raised her hands, and took a cautious backward step. "Stay away from me! I'm warning you!" A breathy quality stole all threat from her tone. Terror leached through her bravado. A misty outline, like heat haze, grew around her.
"Are you a minion of Hel?" Subikahn demanded, afraid to immediately discount the possibility. If he guessed wrong, he might doom his brother's soul.
"Am I… what?"
"A minion of Hel," Subikahn repeated impatiently. "Are you a minion of Hel?"
"A minion?"
"Yes!"
"Of… Hel?"
"Yes!"
The young woman paused. Even from a distance, Subikahn could see her eyes narrow. "Are you entirely moonstruck?"
Subikahn knew he had to sound insane, yet he dared not take a chance. He stuffed the sword into his belt. If she was a supernatural creature, she ought to disappear. Yet, she remained, although he could no longer see the shimmering vapor that had encompassed her. Not all was normal about this stranger. "I'm not crazy. I'm just protecting my brother."