Closing his eyes, he reached forth with his magic, seeking out the magic of the Weavers nearest to him. He sensed Q'Daer immediately, and then a second similar presence who must have been L'Norr. E'Menua and D'Pera were together, of course. He hesitated, deeply conscious of the risk he was taking. Then he stepped into the n'qlae's dreams, as a Weaver could.
Whenever he had used this magic to speak with Cresenne or his sister, Keziah, he had used the same setting: a stretch of the Caerissan Steppe near where he grew up in the kingdom of Eibithar in the Forelands. It was familiar to him, just as it had been to Kezi, and it was similar enough to the lands in Wethyrn, where Cresenne spent her youth, to be familiar to her as well. But it would have been utterly alien to the n'qlae, and that would make what was bound to be an unnerving encounter for her even more difficult. Instead, he summoned an image of the Central Plain here in the Southlands. It was an imperfect image; he didn't know this land well enough to get the setting just right. But it would serve his purpose.
As soon as he reached into the n'qlae's mind with his magic, he saw her in the dream landscape he had conjured. She stood before him wrapped in a blanket and nothing more. She turned a quick circle, looking to see who had entered her dreams. When she spotted him, her pale eyes blazed.
"How dare you!" she said. "Leave me at once!"
"I'm sorry, N'Qlae," he answered, keeping his voice low and even. "I can't do that. I need to speak with you, and I don't want the a'laq overhearing our conversation or seeing us together."
"And you think I won't tell him as soon as I wake up?"
"No, I don't."
"Then you're a fool."
"You don't want those men killed. And you don't want the magic you used to get Besh to tell the truth to be the reason he dies."
She looked away, her lips pressed so thin that they had whitened. "I don't know what your woman told you, but if you think that I'll defy my husband, that I'll let you disgrace him in front of the entire sept, you're wrong."
"That's exactly what Cresenne told me you'd say. She knows how much you love E'Menua, and I know that he's revered by every man and woman in the sept." He smiled. "Don't you see? That's why I've come to you this way. I don't want to embarrass him, and I don't want another open conflict with him."
She appeared to consider this. "What is it you do want?" she asked at last. "You know that he can't turn around and declare the Mettai our friends," she went on before Grinsa could respond. "Not after what the older one said."
"You mean what the a'laq made him say."
D'Pera stared back at him.
"You're right," he said after a brief silence. "I do know that he can't pretend none of this ever happened. For better or worse, the warriors guarding the Mettai heard Besh say those things. But you and I both know that Besh wouldn't have said any of it without E'Menua's interference."
Again she didn't answer.
"You'd let him get away with this, wouldn't you? You'd let these two men die, even though you know them to be innocent of any crime against your people. And you'd do this simply because E'Menua wants it. He's like a willful child whose parents would rather coddle than discipline."
"That's my a'laq you're talking about!" D'Pera said, her voice rising.
Grinsa let out a short, sharp laugh. "Yes, I know. Q'Daer has said the same thing to me a few times now. It seems I'm not as impressed by that as the rest of you."
"You're not Fal'Borna. You can't possibly understand what an a'laq means to his people."
"No, I don't suppose I can. But coming from the Forelands I know that it's possible for Eandi and Qirsi to live together, to build friendships." He faltered, but only briefly. "Aside from Cresenne, no one in the Southlands knows this about me, but I was once married to an Eandi woman."
She looked at him with a mix of disgust and horror. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I want you to understand why I'm fighting for these men. I actually understand what it means to be Fal'Borna better than you think. I've learned a lot in the past few turns. But your people seem to think that this is the only way to live, and it's not. Besh and Sirj have risked their lives time and again to protect the Y'Qatt and the Fal'Borna from the curse that the Mettai witch set upon you. Despite the color of their eyes and color of your hair, despite the Blood Wars, they gave up everything to save the lives of complete strangers who they've been taught to hate since they were children.
"The reason E'Menua was able to get away with what he did today is that their actions are so alien to the Fal'Borna, no one in the sept really believes they could have done it. But they did. I'm alive because they did. And unlike everyone else, you know it's true. You used mind-bending on Besh today. You read his thoughts. You know the truth. That makes you different from every other Fal'Borna here."
"Your point?" she asked warily.
"Isn't it clear? Knowing what you do, you have a responsibility to try to save them."
"I've already told you-"
"Yes, I know. E'Menua won't admit what he did. For now he doesn't have to. All I'm asking is that you prevail upon him to spare their lives. Tell him they'd be more valuable as prisoners, that they might be able to teach us something about Mettai magic. Think of something. But don't let these men die."
"What if he won't listen to me?"
"Make it clear to him that you didn't like what he did today." He held her gaze. "You didn't like it, did you?"
"That's not your concern."
Grinsa smiled. "You're right. It's not. I have a long night ahead of me, N'Qlae. So I'll leave you now. I do apologize for coming to you this way. It was presumptuous of me, but I couldn't think of any other way to approach you without the a'laq's knowledge."
"What do you mean, you have a long night ahead of you?" D'Pera asked. "You intend to speak with others this way?"
"I intend to do what E'Menua should have done long ago, when Q'Daer first told him that Besh had healed us. I'm going to contact other a'laqs on the plain and pass the spell to them. I'm going to save as many lives as I can."
She eyed him with curiosity, as if looking at him for the first time. "I'm not sure I understand everything you've said to me tonight. The Forelands sound… strange. But I'll do what you ask." She started to say more but then stopped herself. "Now leave me so I can sleep." She softened the words with a faint smile.
"Thank you, N'Qlae. Dream well."
He broke the magical connection linking his thoughts to hers and opened his eyes. He knew a moment of dizziness, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. All was quiet in the sept. He got up and peered into the z'kal and saw that Cresenne and Bryntelle were both sleeping.
Returning to his seat outside the shelter, he closed his eyes once more and again reached out with his magic. This time, he reached far beyond the sept, directing his thoughts northward, toward the Horn, where so many Fal'Borna lived and where so many merchants ventured this time of year, perhaps including those who still carried some of Lici's baskets.
Before the night was through, he intended to reach to the south as well, toward Thamia and other Fal'Borna settlements near the Ofirean Sea. From all that Jasha had told him before he died, it seemed that merchants often passed the colder turns on the warm shores of the inland sea. And in the nights to come, he'd attempt to speak with a'laqs in settlements near the Silverwater. He felt certain that Torgan would be headed that way with his small scrap of cursed basket, and though he thought it likely that the one-eyed merchant would try to avoid any septs he spotted, Grinsa couldn't ignore the danger.