Lochivan signaled to another Tezerenee, who rushed over and took charge of the riding drake. That detail taken care of, the patriarch’s son started walking, Sharissa’s pack still under one arm. The slim woman followed, if only because she knew that he would keep walking regardless of whether she followed. As long as he had her pack, Sharissa knew she would have to listen to him.
“The crossing is deadly; the elf your father took as a mate must have told you that.”
“She survived, didn’t she?”
“Others perished. Besides, do you think you can sail there all by yourself?”
“I have the use of my abilities back-no thanks to you and yours, Tezerenee.” He paused before a clear, smooth location that would leave her near the very middle of the camp. Coincidentally, several Tezerenee stood patrol nearby. “The elves, I understand, are not without their own measure of power. We may be mighty, but the elements must always be respected.”
Reaching out, she tore the pack from his hands. “When have the Vraad ever respected the elements? Have you so easily forgotten Nimth?”
“Hardly. I have learned more than you think, Sharissa. I respect this world. That will not keep me from doing my duty to the clan, though. The Dragon-realm must be brought under control. This idiocy of one race after another passing beyond must end. Already it seems to have claimed the Seekers. We are, if you recall, the founders’ last hope for a successor. We cannot disappoint their memory.”
While he had been talking, Sharissa had knelt down and opened the pack. Each of the food items she removed could have been conjured instead of carried, but Barakas wanted sorcery kept to a minimum. Unlike the millennia of excess that Nimth had suffered under the Vraad, this world was more grudging. The Tezerenee might be able to use the old world’s sorcery, but it still drained them physically. Even Sharissa had bodily limitations. Barakas claimed he wanted everyone at their best should an attack occur. It was also possible that the Seekers might not yet know that they were coming. An excessive use of magic might alert the avians and destroy any advantage of surprise the expedition had.
Sharissa doubted that these were the foremost reasons. She suspected that the patriarch wanted his men to take the aerie without the aid of sorcery; it would serve to bolster morale and add credence to the belief that an empire in this land was their true destiny.
“Listen to me!” Lochivan hissed as he came down on one knee next to Sharissa. His voice was very low and very anxious. “I am your friend whether you believe me or not. I am thinking of you!”
“As long as it doesn’t interfere with your noble thoughts concerning your clan. I’m tired, Lochivan. Go talk to one of your brothers or sisters or cousins or anyone, but stop talking to me.”
He rose, a dark shadow outlined by the last dim rays of the sunken sun. “You and that elf… two of a kind!”
“What about the elf?” Sharissa tried her best not to look too interested.
Lochivan took her interest as an opening. “I have to spend another fruitless evening trying to convince him of the futility of holding back any longer. With his companions dead and his people far away, he should be reasonable. Instead, he merely grits his teeth and stares into space.”
She barely heard most of what he said. “What have you done to him this time?”
The edge in her voice did not go unnoticed. “Only what must be done. We have been careful; damaged, he is no good to anyone. He knows this land better than we. His knowledge must be added to our own.”
Could she possibly-? The thought was so outrageous that she nearly discarded it immediately. Sharissa looked up at the dark figure of Lochivan. “I could speak to him if you would only let me.”
“Why would you want to do that?”
His disbelief was expected. Why would she help the Tezerenee? The sorceress hoped her answer would soothe his suspicions. “I want to save him from any more of the hospitality of Barakas-him and Darkhorse. Let me see what I can do. If I succeed, I expect to be able to spend a bit of time with Darkhorse, too.”
“You expect-”
She raised a hand. “Does not the patriarch say that those who serve shall be rewarded? Have I asked that much?”
Lochivan was silent for so long that Sharissa feared he had rejected her suggestion out of hand and was merely marveling at her gall. Then he laughed.
“I will ask for permission. It may amuse him as much as it does me.” He began to depart, then turned back and, in a quiet voice, added, “It may come as no surprise to you that you are being watched.”
“I hardly thought Lord Barakas wouldn’t safeguard against my good intentions. I think I know what might happen should I desire to test my abilities.”
That produced another good-natured laugh. “You would be wasted on Reegan, Sharissa.”
She busied herself with her blanket and did not reply.
“I am dismissed, I see. Should I gain permission for you to speak to the elf, I will send word. Until then, good evening to you.” His heavy boots crushed fallen twigs and leaves as he moved off. Sharissa waited until the sounds grew faint before turning around to watch his departure.
“I would rather marry Reegan,” she whispered. “At least he I can trust to be consistent.”
“Lady Sharissa?”
The sorceress blinked sleep from her eyes. Night still shrouded the land, but that did not tell her anything of import. “Is it near morning?”
“No, my lady.” A female warrior was bent over her, helm in one arm. Dressed in something finer than armor, she probably would have been attractive. Tezerenee had in general done without magical alterations to their face and form, preferring to live with what nature had chosen for them. For many Tezerenee, that meant less-than-pleasant features. A few of the patriarch’s offspring, such as Gerrod or his late brother Rendel, had been fortunate enough to gain more from their mother than their father.
“What hour is it?”
“We are barely past midnight, Lady Sharissa.”
The warrior was scratching her cheek. In the light of the partial moons the sorceress could see that the same dryness that many Tezerenee suffered had spread to this one’s cheek, ruining what beauty she did have.
Sleep made the sorceress slow. There was a reason why a Tezerenee might have come to her now, but she could not think of what it was. “Then why have I been disturbed?”
“The Lord Barakas Tezerenee has given you permission to speak with the elf.”
“Alone, of course.”
“Of course, my lady.”
They both knew this was far from the truth, but arguing about it would avail Sharissa naught. She would merely have to be careful how she spoke with Faunon. He would understand why. The elf was no one’s fool.
Sharissa rose. “Give me a moment.” She picked up some of the food, including some of the Tezerenee wine Reegan had given her. That the clan of the dragon could make such excellent wine was their only saving grace in her eyes.
When she was ready, the Tezerenee led her to the wagon where Faunon was kept. Two sentries stood ready to receive them. Sharissa expected to see Lochivan nearby, but could not find him. It did not break her heart.
Her guide spoke to the others and indicated Sharissa. One of the guards nodded and both stepped aside. Nodding as if their obedience was to be expected, the sorceress strode past them and over to the wagon door. The Tezerenee preferred a wagon that was more of a room on wheels, including windows and a door. There was no real need for such an elaborate structure where a simple cloth-covered wagon would have sufficed; the wagon was merely a result of the clan’s tastes. In some ways, it resembled a tiny citadel. Sharissa knew that it was even protected to some extent by defensive spells.
A light from within blinded her when she opened the door. Her eyes, accustomed to the darkness, took a moment to recuperate. Sharissa saw that a lamp illuminated the interior and wondered if it had been left specifically for her use. The lamp hung on a hook in the ceiling. Beyond it were several mysterious sacks from which emanated a slight magical aura, but nothing that made her worry. Supplies of some sort; she had seen their like often.