Blindly she put out her hand to Lief, and he clasped it, his eyes filling with tears. How much our journey has changed us, he thought, dazed with grief. Jasmine shows feeling, and reaches out for comfort! I am not ashamed to weep! How Barda would smile at that.
Steven touched his arm. “Do not grieve before you must, my friend,” he said gently. “Barda is strong, and a fighter. He will not give up easily. And Queen Bee honey has performed miracles before.”
Lief felt Jasmine’s hand tighten on his own. Then there was a sudden movement beside him. He looked around and saw that Dain had pushed his way to the bed, and was kneeling at his side. The boy’s eyes were wet, but his face was determined. “Barda must not die,” he said. “If we tend him carefully, surely he will recover.”
Jasmine’s face was glowing with gratitude as she looked at Dain. But this time Lief felt no jealous pang. If Barda was to be saved, he needed all the hope and help he could get.
That night, and another day, passed in a dream. Lief, Jasmine, and Dain watched over Barda in turns, coaxing him to take honey, water, and spoonfuls of broth. At times Barda seemed to strengthen a little, rousing himself and even speaking. But soon the weakness would take hold again, and before long he would be worse than ever.
It was as if he was on a gradual downward slide that could not be halted. The stirrings were coming less often now.
Barda is dying, Lief told himself. I must face it. But still he could not make himself give up hope. Jasmine certainly had not. And Dain was a tower of strength, taking longer and longer turns at the bedside, sparing them as much as he could.
At sunset, Lief had just stood up from the bedside, giving up his place to Dain, when a shrill cry was heard outside.
“Ak-Baba! Beware!”
Suddenly all was confusion as people began streaming through the door into the shelter. Lief looked around frantically. Where was Jasmine?
Then he remembered. Jasmine had gone with Zeean and Fardeep to collect water. He pushed his way through the throng in the doorway and ran outside. Almost at once he saw the three he was seeking. They were standing with brimming pails, looking upward at the dark shadow approaching through the orange glare of the sky.
“Jasmine!” Lief shouted. “Run!”
But to his surprise Jasmine simply turned and smiled wearily at him. He looked up once more, then realized what the shadow was.
It was no Ak-Baba. It was a Kin! Ailsa, if he was not mistaken. She was surrounded by a wavering cloud of blackbirds. As they came over the Mire, the birds swooped away and Ailsa began dropping to earth. A small figure in her pouch was waving vigorously.
Gla-Thon, Lief guessed, squinting up at the sky and waving back. Quick-thinking, sharp-tongued Gla-Thon. He recognized her sturdy body, her frizz of brown hair. And who but Gla-Thon would have thought of asking a Kin to fly her speedily to the meeting? Old Fa-Glin may have agreed to make peace with the gnomes’ Kin neighbors. But Lief thought it unlikely that he would have consented to ride with one.
Now six of the seven tribes are represented here, Lief thought, as he ran with Jasmine to welcome the newcomers. I should be excited. I should be filled with hope.
And in a way he was. Celebration, and much talk, would follow this arrival, he knew. He looked forward to explaining everything to Gla-Thon. He was overjoyed to see Ailsa again. But the fear of losing Barda hung over him like a cloud, blurring every thought, every feeling.
A few days later, Lief was sitting beside Barda’s bed, half drowsing, when there was a light touch on his shoulder. Startled, he spun around and met two solemn black button eyes set in a wrinkled blue-grey face.
“Manus!” he exclaimed, leaping up and bending to fling his arms around the Ralad man. “Oh, Manus! You came!”
“Of course,” said Manus. He turned to the golden-maned man standing behind him, with Jasmine. “Our friend Nanion, chief of D’Or, was the means of my arriving so quickly. Nanion has a way with horses which I do not. His feet reach the stirrups, for one thing! But I must say it was an uncomfortable journey. I was terrified half out of my life, and bruised from head to toe!”
Nanion laughed. “To follow a swarm of bees over rough country is no easy task,” he said. “And this Ralad complained from the beginning of the journey to the end. I am relieved to have arrived at last, and to be free of his nagging.” But his eyes were warm as he spoke. Plainly, he and Manus had become good friends.
“How did you come to have a horse?” Jasmine asked. “And such a fine one!”
Nanion shrugged. “A certain shopkeeper made it available to me,” he said. “I only hope he has a good explanation ready for its owners when they come seeking it.”
“I daresay he has,” said Doom dryly, strolling up behind them. “Good explanations are Tom’s specialty. So — he finally decided to take sides, did he?”
Manus smiled. “Not quite that, I think,” he said. “He warned Nanion that lightning does not strike twice in the same place. Meaning, I suppose, that we should expect no more favors from him.”
“But I think he had forgotten that he had already done us one good turn,” Nanion put in. “Shortly before I saw him, he had given two of my people some news. Grey Guards are being ordered to the west. Fighting is expected.”
Doom’s eyebrows shot up. “Indeed?” he muttered. He drew Nanion aside, leaving Manus alone with Barda, Lief, and Jasmine.
“This is a sorrowful thing,” Manus murmured, looking down at the big man lying so still on the bed. “Can nothing be done?”
Lief shook his head. “He has not stirred since sunrise,” he said, all his grief flooding back. “I think — it cannot be long.”
Manus bowed his head. “Then I am glad I arrived when I did,” he said softly. “For it means much to me to see him again. He has a great heart.”
He looked up, meeting Lief’s eyes squarely. “He has not given his life in vain,” he said. “Jasmine has told me why I was summoned, though I think I had already guessed. You three have worked a miracle.”
“Part of a miracle,” Lief answered. “The heir is still to be found.”
“And is that not why we are all here?” Manus asked quietly. He stood up. “The moon is rising. It is time for the seven tribes to join once more. It is time for the heir to be summoned.”
Candles flickered around the walls. Faces — grave, excited, afraid — formed a half circle around the seven. All eyes were on the Belt, lying in shadow, on the table where Lief had set it.
They were standing by Barda’s bed. Jasmine had insisted on that. “In whatever twilight world he is wandering, he may hear us,” she said. “And even if he cannot, it is his right to be present.”
No one argued with her. But it was clear to all that Barda’s long struggle for life was almost done.
Zeean stepped forward. “I, Zeean of Tora, am here,” she said gravely, laying her hand upon the amethyst.
Gla-Thon was next. “And I, Gla-Thon of the Dread Gnomes,” she said, her head held high as she caressed the emerald.
Lief watched, holding himself rigidly, as one by one the others moved forward.
“Fardeep, of the Mere.” Fardeep’s usually hearty voice was shaking. Humbly, he touched the lapis lazuli.
“Steven, of the Plains.” Steven towered over all the rest, his golden hair gleaming as he bent to the opal.
“Manus, for the Ralad people.” Manus brushed the ruby with gentle fingers.
Glock lumbered forward. His face was fierce and proud as he stretched out his huge paw to the diamond. “I am Glock, last of the Jalis,” he growled. And Lief caught his breath as he saw tears spring into the savage eyes.