“Are you sure that’s wise?” asked Caelum. “As I recall, it was a boulder that snapped the sword in the first place.”
“Only because the wraith had tainted it,” Rikus replied. “Before that, I used it to cut things harder than stone.”
Neeva motioned for Rikus to perform his test. “Go ahead.”
The mul faced the second boulder. The sun’s light had just touched the rock, casting a rosy glow over its brown surface. He swung, and his shortened sword struck with a dissonant chime that made Magnus miss two notes in his song. Fearing the weapon would snap, Neeva started to pull her son away, then the blade sank though the stone, trailing wisps of black shadow. The sword did not stop cutting until it had cleaved through half the thickness of the boulder.
Rikus scowled. “It doesn’t cut like it used to,” he said, bracing a foot against the stone as he pulled the sword out of it. “But it’ll do.”
The mul returned the weapon to his scabbard, where the tip of the blade was still stored.
“Good,” said Rkard. He turned to his mother and asked, “So now we’re going to Samarah, right?”
“We’ll see.” Neeva glanced toward Sadira. The rays of crimson sun were creeping up the sorceress’s legs, returning her flesh to the ebon hue it customarily assumed in daylight. “First we must see if Sadira awakens.”
“But we’ve got to go!” objected Rkard. “If we don’t, I’ll turn into a banshee, just like Jo’orsh and Sa’ram.”
Neeva frowned. “What makes you think that?” she asked, squatting down so she could look her son in the eyes. “Muls aren’t like dwarves. They don’t have to choose a life purpose.”
“But your son is no ordinary mul,” interrupted Wyan. The head fixed his sallow eyes on the boy’s face. “Rkard has a destiny, and who can tell what will become of him if he doesn’t fulfill it now?”
Caelum plucked the head up by his topknot. “Don’t say such things to my son!” he yelled. “You know nothing of his destiny!”
“I knew the Scourge still had its magic,” Wyan countered. “Perhaps I know other things as well.”
“Then tell us,” Neeva commanded, drawing a dagger.
Wyan’s cracked lips twisted into a sneer. “You know the answer,” he said. “That’s why you’re so afraid.”
Rkard slipped forward and stood eye-to-eye with the head. “Nothing scares my mother!”
“You’re wrong, brat!” snarled the head. “Your mother’s paralyzed with fear. If she lets you attack Borys, you’ll be killed. But if she doesn’t let you fight, you’ll turn into a banshee, more hideous than Sa’ram or Jo’orsh.” Wyan showed his gray teeth in a cruel mockery of a smile. “What’s a mother to do?”
Rkard took Neeva’s hand. “I’m not afraid of the Dragon,” he said. “I’ll kill him.”
“Of course you will-but not until the time’s right.” Neeva turned him away from Wyan. “Let’s check on Sadira and see if the sun’s awakened her. We could use some good tidings.”
They found the sorceress cradled in Magnus’s arms. She was now completely bathed in sunlight, and her skin was as black as ever. The sores and bruises that had marked her body the previous evening were gone, and there were no other signs of injuries from her battle with the wraiths. Still, her emberlike eyes did not burn with their usual intensity, and she lay slumped in a limp heap, rubbing the Asticles signet between her thumb and forefinger.
Motioning for Rkard to wait with his father, Neeva went to the sorceress’s side. “Are you well?”
Sadira’s eyes flared back to life. She slipped Agis’s ring back onto her finger, then reached up and grasped Neeva’s hand.
“I’m fine,” she said, pulling herself to her feet. “I wish I could say the same for Agis-and for the rest of Tyr.”
“What do you mean?”
Sadira took a deep breath then said, “Agis is dead.”
“It can’t be!” Neeva gasped. “How could you know?”
“I know,” Sadira replied. “I had to fight my way out of the Gray, and the wraiths tried to make me stay by using his spirit as a hostage.” Tiny streamers of black shadow began to rise from the corners of the sorceress’s eyes. “I destroyed them.”
“You can’t be sure you were in the Gray,” said Caelum, coming to Neeva’s side. “It could have been a delusion-”
“Sadira was in the Gray, or it wouldn’t have taken me so long to call her back.” Magnus pushed his hulking mass to its feet. “And the wraiths are gone, or they would still be attacking us. The only way she could have destroyed them was by fighting them in the Gray.”
“Agis is dead,” Sadira said. This time, she could not keep from crying as she spoke.
“I’m afraid so,” Magnus agreed. “That’s the only explanation for seeing him there.”
Sadira began to sob, black shadow rising from between her blue lips in puffing billows.
Neeva wiped her own cheek, surprised to find tears running down it. During her days in the arena, she had seen many friends die-some at her own hands, when the game promoters felt particularly cruel-and she had thought all her tears were gone. The warrior was glad to discover that some remained for Agis, the only noble she had ever called friend. She touched her hand to her heart in the gladiator’s traditional sign of farewell, then raised it toward the east, where he had died.
When Neeva looked toward Rikus, she found the mul staring at the ground with glassy eyes. His lips were quivering, and he was shaking his head as if he did not believe what Sadira had said.
“Rikus,” Neeva said softly.
The mul looked up. “I thought Agis was too smart to die,” he said. “I didn’t believe what Patch said.”
“Neither did I,” Neeva said. “But we didn’t have much chance to think about it.”
“Agis held everything together-the council, the relief farms, our house.” The mul stepped past her, reaching for Sadira. “What are we going to do now?”
The sorceress pushed him away. “How do I know?” she yelled. “With Agis dead, what does it matter?”
Caelum quickly slipped in between Sadira and Rikus. “Agis was a friend to us all, and we’ll miss him,” he said. “But he wouldn’t want us to give up. We must consider what to do next.”
Sadira shook her head angrily. “Haven’t you been listening?” she demanded. “Agis is dead. The only thing that will happen next is Tyr’s destruction.”
“You may be overreacting, Sadira,” said Magnus. “I don’t see how one man’s death will bring about the downfall of a city that’s stood for a thousand years.”
“Don’t you understand?” the sorceress asked. “The Dragon knows we’re coming. That’s why he sent the wraiths to kill me.”
“And if Borys killed Agis, then you fear he’s also stolen the Dark Lens,” Caelum concluded.
Neeva’s stomach began to churn with a sick, hollow feeling. She could not quite believe that Agis was dead, or that they had lost the Dark Lens before they had even seen it, and something in the back of her mind told her it was not true. Then she remembered what Patch had said: Agis died in the Bay of Woe-whatever that was-and Tithian stole the Dark Lens.
“I don’t think Borys killed Agis,” Neeva said. She stepped over to Wyan and snatched the head off the boulder. “Where did Agis die? What happened to the Dark Lens?”
“Agis fell in the giant islands,” the head answered, smirking cruelly at Sadira. “He and Tithian stole the Lens together, but only the king escaped alive. He’s the one who sent me.”
“Where’d you get Agis’s ring?” Sadira demanded. She snatched Wyan from Neeva’s hand and held the Asticles signet in front of his nose.
“Tithian gave it to me,” Wyan said. “He didn’t think you would answer a summons from him, so he wanted you to think Agis had sent me. He’s waiting for you in Samarah-with the Dark Lens.”
Sadira’s blue eyes flared, and she stared at the head without speaking. Finally, she asked, “How did Agis die?”
Wyan’s long tongue licked his cracked lips. “The giants were warring over the Lens,” he said. “Agis fell in the final battle.”
“With Tithian’s dagger in his back, no doubt!” Sadira hissed.