“He was returned there as soon as… the disaster occurred. They would not linger in Avonar in such uncertainty. It would risk their plan.”
“You speak in riddles, sir. Do you mean to tell me that you-the Preceptors-knew my son was captive of the Zhid and you did nothing?”
“What could be done? It is not forbidden for anyone, Dar’Nethi or Dulcé or Zhid, or even one of your own kind to come before the Dar’Nethi Preceptorate and make petition, ask hearing, or bring grievance. If someone brings a boy to us, we cannot say, ‘We think you come from Zhev’Na, therefore you get no hearing.’ We claim that our world will be made whole again, and that all will be healed and live in peace-and when he says he brings the son of D’Arnath’s Heir-we listen.”
“This makes no sense.”
Gar’Dena grimaced. “We could not wrest the boy from his protector while they stood supplicant in the council chamber-especially as the boy remained with the man willing. The child was not afraid and made no attempt to distance himself. It is not possible for us to trespass our laws in such a case. The Lords know our traditions and our scruples, you see, and use them very effectively against us. But we had to confirm the boy’s identity. Our Prince was… as you saw. We must have an Heir, and even those of us who suspect the identity of the boy’s protectors were powerless to change-”
“But you knew. Once he had passed your cursed ‘test,’ why didn’t you take him from Darzid?” I was no longer cold, not inside, not outside. “How could you let the despicable man take him back to the Lords?”
“Because this Darzid is not a man!” The floor rumbled with the same fury that had shaken the council chamber, but his anger was not directed at me. He gripped his hands together until I thought he must crush his own fingers. “We do not know who or what he is any more than you do. We know that he has at least one ally among the Preceptors. Even if we were willing to endanger the child’s life when we know so little, we dared not challenge the Lords in the very heart of Avonar. This city is our last defense. This battle must take place outside these walls. Better to appear stupid and corrupt and ineffective. Let them think they have all the time they need. And that, madam, is where you come in.”
“I don’t understand.”
He released his hands, his shoulders sagged, and a woeful grin worked its way through his oversized gloom. “We planned to find you. A blessing to be sure that you dropped into my not inconsiderable lap-though we were fortunate to keep you from being divided among our covetous Preceptors.”
“I wouldn’t have gone with Exeget. I’d kill him first.”
He sighed deeply. Gar’Dena did nothing small. “Such was not an unguessable reaction, madam, though killing Exeget would not be at all simple. But since we so fortunately avoided that particular ugliness, we wish to proceed. There is a plan and help to be had if you will accept it. If you consent, we will send you to Zhev’Na to rescue your son.”
Astonishment and anger would not release me as yet. “I still don’t understand. If you’re so worried about my son, then why, in the name of all gods, didn’t you send someone to rescue him weeks ago? You don’t need me.”
Gar’Dena’s good humor went the way of his rage, leaving only a serious intelligence that one might more properly expect from a Preceptor of Gondai. “Because we cannot send a Dar’Nethi. The rescuer must be someone from your world. You will see why as we prepare. You were the most reasonable choice and came highly recommended. Yet, we had to judge you for ourselves-to make sure that you were not overwhelmed by our world, that you were not rash or stupid and likely to make things worse instead of better. When we saw how carefully you moved, we came to believe you would do. And too, our plan was not possible before tonight. Treacherous waters must be carefully navigated. That’s all I can tell you. To say more would compromise our plan.”
At last I began to listen. He waited patiently as I tried to think. “Was this Dassine’s design?” I said.
“Dassine knew nothing of this plan. But he would agree that we have no other possibility.”
“Who are the others included in this ‘we’?”
“You will not know that.” A finger of anticipation tickled my spine.
“Then tell me, Master Gar’Dena-did Karon know of your plan? Was his action… the knife… what he did…was that part of your plan? Did you drive him mad or did he consent to it? I need to know.”
Paulo shot a glance at me, curiosity flashing across his dirty, tear-streaked face.
The big man closed the doors of his broad face and laid one ponderous fist upon his heart. “Of course the Prince’s death was not part of our plan. We had hoped- But the examination was ruinous. We thought we had shown him alternatives… convinced him… Ah, Vasrin Shaper, I cannot speak of the matter. His death is a grievous blow to Gondai and our people. If we cannot retrieve his son, we are undone.”
Why could I not feel Karon’s loss, even after such sober speech as this? Gar’Dena’s voice was near breaking. I had seen the knife and the blood and the terrible wound. I had seen Karon fall, and with the others watched life desert his pain-ravaged face. But in that precious instant we were together, he was not mad and not desperate. And if he was not mad, then I could not believe he would ever, in the farthest extremity, take his own life.
So I put him away for a while, laid aside my grief and regret and mourning. I only whispered an answer to the sweet echo that lingered in my head. You have no need for forgiveness. I embrace your life, beloved, all that you were and all that you remain. “Tell me your plan, Preceptor.”
CHAPTER 24
Karon
The Dulcé say that life is a tapestry, the warp and weft laid down by Vasrin Shaper-the female half of the duality that is our god-and we who exist in the world are assigned our position and shading to perfect its marvelous pattern. The Valloreans say that life is a garden, each of us planted in our proper row so as to nurture or shelter those who grow beside us, or to wind ourselves about each other in mutual companionship or mutual destruction. But I think we Dar‘Nethi have it right, that life is a path laid down as you walk it and taken up behind you as quickly as you pass. That is why it does no good to look back and say “if only…” for where you have traveled is already unclear, and it does no good to say “tomorrow…” for where you are going is not yet laid down. Better to savor each moment as if it were the first or the last. Perhaps we’ve come to this conclusion because that is the source of our power… the savoring.
I had never considered myself a remarkable man, but as I sat before the Dar’Nethi Preceptorate, knowing what I did of my own life and contemplating what I was about to do, I believed I could say truly that no experience in the history of two worlds had rivaled my own. That of D’Arnath himself, perhaps-the sorcerer and king become warrior, powerful enough to build a link between worlds, reverenced so truly by his people that his successors never took his own title, but considered their highest honor to be named his Heir. But even D’Arnath had lived only one life. I had lived two, each of them twice through, once in the proper order of time as all men do and once in memory. And for ten years I had been properly dead, my orphaned soul linked to an artifact of power-a small black crystal pyramid-by the enchantments of an audacious Healer. And next… I could not think of next.
My trembling was quite real on that occasion, both as a result of what I had been through and in anticipation of its sequel, and when I said, “Ten breaths more and I will be unable to stop screaming,” I believed that to be the literal truth.
I had known I would have to follow Dassine’s instructions to give myself to the Preceptorate. All I could offer the Lady Seriana and her companions were a bit of power and a strong sword arm, and neither appeared sufficient to their needs. The problem of the child was too complex, and Dassine, the one who understood such complexities, was dead. My mentor’s legacy was my life, and the only thing he had ever asked in return was my trust. I could not refuse him.