"Luck to you, too, Seregil, and the Maker's healing," Beka returned warmly, relieved to see even this small break in his sorrow. He'd scarcely spoken since they'd set sail. "Bring Father safe home again."
Alec was waiting for her by the longboat. Putting her arms around him, Beka squeezed him tight and felt the embrace returned.
"Take them to Watermead, both of them," she whispered against his cheek. "Stay there as long as you need to. Poor Nysander, I can't believe he'd ever have wanted things to turn out like this."
"Me neither," Alec said, still holding her by the arms as he stepped back.
He looks so much older, Beka thought, seeing the depths of sadness in his eyes.
When Nanta had slipped away to the horizon Alec went below. Seregil was sitting on the end of Micum's bunk.
"I found something for you in Nanta before we sailed," Alec said, handing Seregil a cloth-wrapped parcel. Inside was a small harp, like the one he'd carried in Wolde.
"It's nowhere near as good as yours, I know," Alec went on quickly as Seregil folded the wrappings back and touched the strings. "But I thought it might—Well, Micum is still in pain and I thought maybe if you played for him it might give him some ease."
A white lie, perhaps, but it did the trick.
Micum gave Alec a knowing wink as Seregil propped the instrument on his knee and plucked out a few tentative notes.
"It's a fine instrument. Thank you," Seregil said, not looking up. He plucked out a few searching chords, then swept the strings, releasing a glissando of plaintive notes.
Thero came in to tend Micum's leg and stayed awhile to listen. Seregil didn't sing, but plucked out tune after tune, the music mournful and soothing.
Micum slipped into a peaceful doze and Alec sat quietly in the corner, watching Seregil's face as he played on through the afternoon. His expression betrayed little. The mantle of silence remained in place.
Seregil's spirits seemed to rally somewhat during the voyage back to Rhiminee. He spoke more freely, though not of Nysander or the Helm.
Never of those. He walked the deck with Alec and Thero, ate sparingly with neither relish nor complaint, and played the harp by the hour, covering his own pain a little by easing Micum's.
Micum and Thero took heart at these small changes but Alec, who shared a pallet with Seregil on the floor of Rhal's cabin, knew how he trembled and groaned in his sleep each night. An intuition uncomfortably like the one that had dragged him back to the Cockerel that fateful night kept him by Seregil's side as much as possible. The man he'd known for so long was gone, leaving in his stead a quiet stranger with distance behind his eyes.
Alec sat alone with Micum the afternoon of their fifth day out from Nanta. Micum was dozing, his face pale and haggard against the bolsters. The harp lay at his feet where Seregil had left it after soothing him to sleep. There's continued ministrations had kept rot from setting into Micum's leg, but the little cabin was stifling with the flat, heavy odor of unhealthy flesh.
Moving quietly so as not to disturb Micum, Alec opened the cabin window and propped the door open with a pack. Just as he was about to steal out again, however, Micum opened his eyes.
"That's a long face you've got on," he rasped, motioning for Alec to sit by him. "Out with it. What's wrong?"
Alec shrugged unhappily. "It's Seregil. He's like a shadow. He doesn't talk, he doesn't smile. It's like he's not really here at all. I don't know what to do for him."
"I think you're doing right by just standing by him for now, just as you did when he ran afoul with that wooden coin. It made all the difference to him then. He's told me so himself."
"That was magic and he was fighting it, too. But killing Nysander—" Alec fiddled with the edge of the blanket, searching for words. "It's like he killed part of himself."
"He did. We have to give him time to sort out what's left."
"Maybe." But in his heart Alec feared that the longer they waited for Seregil to come around, the farther away he drifted.
Magyana was waiting for them on the quay the day they sailed into Rhiminee harbor. Alone and unattended, she wore a dark mourning veil over her silvery hair.
Seregil placed a little bundle containing Nysander's few belongings in her arms, his voice failing him when he tried to speak.
"I know, my dear," she murmured, embracing him.
"Nysander and I said our farewells the day I sent him across to find you. He suspected that he would not return, and asked me to tell all of you not to grieve for him, but to forgive him if you can."
"Forgive him?" gasped Thero, standing rigidly beside Micum's litter. "What could there be to forgive?"
Magyana did not answer, but her gaze stole briefly back to Seregil, who'd turned away.
Alec's eyes locked briefly with hers and in that instant the mutual understanding ran deep.
"It was also Nysander's wish, Thero, that you should complete your training with me," she continued.
The color fled from the young wizard's thin cheeks as he sank to his knees before her. "I can't go back to the Oreska, not after what happened that night. The attack, the Plenimarans getting in, it was my fault. If I hadn't told Ylinestra about Nysander's walks, his studies—Looking back now, I see what all her questions were leading to, but at the time—I just didn't know! But the Council would never allow me back."
Magyana laid a hand on his bowed head. "You forget that I, too, am a member of the High Council, as was Nysander. He spoke with them one last time before he left. There is no impediment to your return. His last words to me on the matter were that he hoped I would see to it that you completed what you have begun so well."
Cupping his chin, she gently raised his anguished face. "I would be honored if you would accept me as your teacher, Thero. In truth, it would be a great comfort to have you with me, and to see the education of my friend's last pupil completed. It would be the greatest honor to his memory."
Thero rose and bowed. "I'm yours to command."
Magyana smiled gently. "You will learn that, like
Nysander, I seldom command anything. I hope the rest of you will accept my hospitality tonight?"
"I thank you, Magyana, but I don't think—"
Seregil broke off, unable to meet her gaze.
"I understand." She touched his cheek. "Later then. Tell me where you plan to stay and I'll send word for Valerius to see Micum."
"Wheel Street tonight, then out to Watermead."
"I will see that he comes to you at once. Aura Elustri malreis, Seregil tali."
Clasping hands with Alec, she bid him farewell, then bent over Micum. "Shall I send word to Kari?"
Micum took her hand with a meaningful look and said softly, "Maybe we'd better wait until Valerius has had a look at me, eh?"
Magyana pressed his hand. "Very well. May Dalna speed health to you, Micum, and peaceful hearts to you all." With Thero at her side, she walked away through the dockside throng to a waiting carriage.
"If you've no further need of the ship, the men are anxious to put out again," said Rhal, coming over to take his leave of them. "We've made two crossings with an empty hold and there are enemy ships to be plucked."
"The ship is yours to command, Captain," Seregil told him. "And the luck of Astellus go with you. I expect the Green Lady will be the scourge of both seas."
Moving Micum into a hired cart, Alec and Seregil set off for Wheel Street. The house was just as they'd left it. Evidently Mardus had been well apprised enough of their movements not to waste time on unnecessary destruction.