E'Menua halted, as did Grinsa.
"Are you saying that they could summon creatures from legend?"
"I'm saying that I don't know what they can do. You laughed when I mentioned the fox and hornets. I wanted you to understand that this power they possess is no trifle."
The a'laq rubbed a hand over his face, looking deeply troubled. "There are tales of monsters-creatures of myth, demons from Bian's realm. Our magic would be powerless against them."
Grinsa wasn't sure what to say. "It may be that they can't do this, A'Laq. I just don't know."
"I want to speak with them," E'Menua said, starting back toward Besh and Sirj's z'kal. "I want to speak with the Mettai immediately."
Grinsa hurried after him. He didn't expect that Besh and Sirj would have any interest in speaking with the a'laq, but he knew better than to argue. And he knew that he had to be there when the a'laq questioned the two men, if for no other reason than to protect them when they refused to answer.
F or the past few days, Besh had spent most of his time sleeping or fighting off the interminable boredom. In the best of times, Sirj was not one for idle conversation. Since discovering that they were prisoners of the Fal'Borna, the younger man had retreated into a sullen, brooding silence. Besh could hardly blame him, but it did make for long, tedious days.
At first, just after the a'laq's betrayal, Besh had been too angry to sit still. He'd paced around the tiny shelter, seething, trying to think of some way to retaliate. Soon, though, he came to realize that there was no way. He and Sirj were powerless here. It wasn't that the Fal'Borna had taken his blade. As Lici had shown him all too clearly while she was still alive, a Mettai needed only a bit of malice and sharp fingernails in order to conjure. But it didn't matter whether he and Sirj could draw upon their own blood; whatever magic they might have been able to do was nothing next to the power of the Fal'Borna. They were being held by a foe they could not defeat, menaced constantly by magic that could overwhelm their own.
After three days, he had surrendered to despair. Even his faith in Grinsa and the Forelander's ability to protect him, which had led him to this sept in the first place, had now vanished. He knew that Grinsa wanted to help them, that he was trying still to win their freedom. But he no longer believed Grinsa could succeed.
So it was that he was asleep again when the flap covering the shelter's entrance suddenly was thrown back, flooding the small structure with light.
Besh sat up so quickly that his head began to spin. His heart was racing and he felt disoriented.
"Come out here!" a voice commanded. "I want a word with both of you."
"It's the a'laq," Sirj said quietly. "Do you think he means to kill us?"
"I'm here, too."
That voice Besh recognized. "Grinsa?" he called.
"It's all right," the Forelander said. "You're in no danger."
Besh and Sirj shared a look.
"All right," Besh called.
Sirj stood and pulled Besh to his feet. Then both men stepped out into the daylight.
It was just the two of them: Grinsa and the a'laq. The Forelander appeared calm, which Besh found reassuring. E'Menua, on the other hand, looked unnerved and agitated. Besh was pleased by this, too.
"I want to know more about your magic," E'Menua said. "I want to know what it can do."
"You mean," Sirj said, "you want us to help you defeat the Mettai who are marching against you."
"That's right," the a'laq answered. "You claim that you mean my people no harm. They may be harmed by the magic these other Mettai use against us." Besh laughed, drawing a hot glare from the Fal'Borna.
"Forgive me," Besh said. "But I have to ask: What would you call a Fal'Borna prisoner who helped his captors in a fight against you? A traitor? A demon? Or would you dispense with name-calling and simply kill him?"
The a'laq looked so angry that for a moment Besh thought the man might strike him. Instead, he showed the first true sign of weakness Besh had seen in him.
"I… I could free you. If you answer my questions, I can release you, send you back to your people."
Something had the man deeply frightened.
"That would be even more of a betrayal," Sirj said. "I won't buy my freedom with the blood of other Mettai."
"I can use my magic against you!" the a'laq said. "I can make you answer!"
Besh smiled bitterly. "You can make me say a lot of things. You've already proven that."
The a'laq's face colored.
"If I was in your position, I wouldn't answer, either," Grinsa said. "But I don't think any good can come of a defeat for the Fal'Borna, or a defeat of the Eandi for that matter. We need to find some way to drive this army back across the Silverwater without too many people being killed. Any information you can give us might help with that."
Sirj let out a sharp laugh. "So you count yourself as one of them now?"
"Sirj," Besh said, laying a hand on the man's arm.
"It's all right," Grinsa told him. He looked at Sirj. "I deserved that. I promised that I'd keep you safe, and I've failed. I'm sorry." He took a breath. "Yes. In this war, I consider myself Fal'Borna. If the Eandi and the Mettai reach this sept, they won't stop to ask where I come from or how long I've lived on the plain. They'll see my white hair and my yellow eyes, and they'll kill me. And then they'll do the same to Cresenne and our daughter."
Sirj dropped his gaze.
"You think you can prevent this war?" Besh asked.
Grinsa shook his head. "The war's probably started already. But I'm hoping that we can find a way to end it before too much damage is done. And as I see it, the only way to stop the war is to drive the Eandi back. If they manage to retake any of these lands, it could mean another century of warfare. The Fal'Borna won't waste any time in trying to take back the cities and lands they've lost. More Eandi will come, and before long fighting will spread all across the Southlands."
"So you do want us to help them," Besh said, unable to keep the despair from his voice. He understood the Forelander's reasoning, and he could hardly argue with the progression of events Grinsa had laid out. The history of the Southlands was littered with battles and failed campaigns that began much the way this latest invasion had. But he couldn't help feeling that Grinsa had betrayed them in some small way.
"I want you to help me. The a'laq will leave us, and we can-"
"I will not!" E'Menua said, glaring at the Forelander. "They're my prisoners! I'll stay here and question them for as long as I see fit!"
"You just offered to free them," Grinsa said.
"If they were to tell me what I want to know!"
"And Sirj has already said no to that," Grinsa said. "I'm offering a compromise. They'll talk to me, and I'll carry the information they give me into battle. If any of what they tell me can save Fal'Borna lives, I'll share it with you. But other than that, what the three of us discuss here will remain secret." He turned to Besh and Sirj. "Is that acceptable?"
"It's not acceptable to me!" the a'laq said.
Grinsa regarded him placidly. "Then you'll learn nothing from them at all."
"There are other ways!"
"None that I'll allow you to use."
The two Qirsi stood staring at one another, the a'laq clearly enraged, Grinsa calm, but resolute.
"You tricked me," the a'laq finally said. "You planned this all along."
"It was your idea to come here, A'Laq. I simply followed, and I planned nothing. But I won't apologize for turning your choice to my advantage. You tricked all of us the other day. You deserved this."
"I should have known better than to trust you."
"You can trust me," Grinsa said. "I meant what I said a moment ago. If any of what I learn from these men can help me save even one Fal'Borna life, I'll tell you immediately."
E'Menua didn't look mollified. "I won't free them."
"It wouldn't be safe for them to leave the sept right now anyway. Let them remain here as your guests. Allow them to leave their z'kal and wander freely throughout the settlement."