Walking always helped to clear his mind. Years of long overland treks had taught him to subsume his mind into the pace of his long legs, to think of nothing but the rhythm of his own steps. Some part of his mind was always alert for danger—it had to be, in the wilds of Xen’drik—but he was able to turn off the part that planned and remembered and worried. So he walked, winding through the now-familiar streets of Fairhaven. Almost without conscious intent, he found himself standing in front of the Dragonhawk Towers at luncheon time.
“All right, Janik,” he muttered, finding to his relief that the long walk had stilled his mind. “Mathas is your friend, or was once. Trust him.”
He pulled on the door and went inside.
He cast a quick glance around the crowded restaurant and spotted Mathas, sitting at a table by a window, staring out at the autumn leaves. The elf’s hair was grayer and cut shorter than the last time Janik had seen him—but they had just returned from a long expedition when Janik had seen him last. In civilization, Mathas always kept his appearance up.
A genuine smile spread slowly across Janik’s face as he crossed the room. Mathas saw him and got slowly to his feet, deep wrinkles surrounding his mouth and eyes as he returned Janik’s smile.
When he reached Mathas’s table, the old elf threw his arms around him. Janik returned the embrace, then settled himself into the chair across from Mathas.
“I can’t begin to tell you how pleased I was to receive your invitation,” Mathas said.
“It’s great to see you, old friend,” Janik replied, his throat tight. “I—”
“I was particularly amused,” Mathas interrupted, “by its bearer. I was not aware that Kelas ir’Darran was a mutual acquaintance.”
Janik laughed, suddenly at ease. “I only met him on the airship here. After he threatened to throw me overboard, I started to like him.”
“For three years he’s kept an eye on me,” Mathas said, lifting a cup of tea to his thin lips. He took a sip, then said, “He’s starting to feel like an old friend.” He smiled. “But that might be because I was starting to forget what the company of old friends feels like.” His voice was utterly without blame or anger, and Janik returned his smile.
“I had as well, Mathas, and I’m sorry for that.”
“Kelas indicated that I am soon to leave the country. I must admit to some curiosity regarding our destination.” Mathas sipped his tea.
“Did he now?” Janik laughed.
“Well, not in so many words. I pieced it together.”
“Held his hands just so while glancing toward the horizon?” Janik had often joked that Mathas could read volumes from the slightest gesture.
“Something like that. So where are you taking me?”
Janik took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I got a letter from Dania.”
Mathas arched an eyebrow. “Really? What did she have to say?”
“Not very much, actually, but she urged me to come to Thrane.”
“Thrane? Hmm. Last I heard, she was in Karrnath.”
“What have you heard, Mathas? I’ve been so completely out of touch—it was all I could do to find you here.”
Mathas leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. “Precious little, I’m afraid, and it’s been some time. I saw Dania before we both left Sharn. She told me she’d written to a friend of her father’s in Karrnath, and he’d agreed to give her some work—mercenary work, I believe. I came here shortly after that, so if she ever wrote me a letter, I never received it.”
“When was that?” Janik asked.
“Just after the war ended. We had been back less than a year.”
A waiter approached, and Janik realized he hadn’t looked at the menu. He glanced at it quickly while Mathas ordered, decided on a Cyran duck dish, then fiddled with his fork as he asked, “So, did she talk about me?”
“What do you think, Janik?”
“I think you two probably discussed me to death, but that might just be my inflated sense of self-importance.”
Mathas smiled. “Of course we did—as we have done many, many times over the years. As usual, we came to no conclusions.”
“I hurt her pretty badly, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did.”
Janik turned sideways in his chair, scanning the crowded room. Mathas turned his gaze out the window for a moment, then looked back at Janik. “What did she say in her letter?”
Janik sighed. “Nothing about … what happened. It was actually the third letter I received. The first two were from the Cathedral. It’s really the Keeper of the Flame who has invited me to Thrane.”
Mathas leaned forward. “The Keeper of the Flame? What does she want with you?”
“Unclear. I pretty much ignored the first two letters. I didn’t feel like taking up any holy quests. Of course, Kelas assumes the Keeper wants to send us on a mission against Aundair.” Janik smiled.
“And Dania wrote to reinforce the Keeper’s invitation?”
“Exactly. Here, I’ve got the letter.” Janik pulled the folded page from his coat pocket and handed it across the table. He quoted the words he had read a hundred times. “Dear Janik, I’m writing to add my voice to the invitation you’ve already received. I urge you to come to Thrane and hear what the Keeper of the Flame has to say. And so on.”
Mathas read the last few lines of the brief letter, then handed it back to Janik.
“So she has allied herself with the Church of the Silver Flame?” Mathas asked. “Interesting.”
“Yes, that’s one of the things that puzzles me.”
“Well,” Mathas said, looking at the ceiling. “Now that I think about it, I believe that the friend of her father’s in Karrnath was affiliated with the Church. Perhaps she has simply risen through the ranks to some military position with the Church?”
“Possibly. Anyway, as you can see, the letter says nothing important—nothing about our past together, nothing about Xen’drik or Maija …”
“Or me,” Mathas interrupted.
“Nothing about you.”
“So why have you come to take me to Thrane?”
“If the Keeper wants to send me on some expedition, then I need you.” Janik sighed and studied his wine glass. “And I can’t face Dania without you.”
Mathas smiled kindly. “What are you afraid of, Janik?”
Janik sipped his wine, thinking, while the waiter set their food in front of them. After the waiter left, he said, “I’m afraid—” His voice was shaking, and he took a deep breath to steady it. “I’m afraid of the past, Mathas. I’m afraid that seeing her will make missing Maija hurt that much more.” He looked down at his plate.
“Three years have not dulled its bite?”
“Not in the least. I’ve been keeping myself busy—always on the move. It keeps my thoughts from running away with me. But I dream about her all the time, and I keep thinking maybe she’s going to just show up and apologize and make things the way they used to be. I even talk to her sometimes, as if she were still with me.”
“Then you have no clearer idea of what happened?”
“What happened? You saw as well as I did—she took the Ramethene Sword from me and gave it to Krael.”
“No, I mean what happened in her heart. Did you see any sign of a change in her, some dissatisfaction or anger that might cause her to leave us that way?”
“Did we have a big fight in the ruins—is that what you’re asking?” Janik’s voice rose. “Did I drive her away? You think maybe she caught me in bed with Dania?”
“That’s not what I mean, Janik. Nobody thinks what Maija did is your fault, and I know perfectly well what happened with Dania. All I’m saying is that you were obviously closer to her than Dania or I was. I like to think I’m a pretty good judge of people—even you humans—after all these years, and I was completely surprised by what she did. If you have any insight that could help me understand her behavior, I would certainly like to hear it. That’s all.”