"In the z'kal," the first guard said, indicating the shelter with a wave of his spear.
"They're going to talk to us out here," Grinsa said, his voice seeming to grow more taut by the moment.
The Fal'Borna shook his head. "The a'laq just said-"
"I don't care what he said! We'll see to it that they don't escape. But you're not going to make the four of us crowd into that shelter."
"The a'laq-"
Before the man could finish what he was going to say, he suddenly gave a strangled cry and let go of his spear so quickly one might have thought the weapon's shaft had grown too hot to touch. The spear hit the ground and immediately shattered. Actually, Besh realized, shattered wasn't the right word. The wood exploded, fracturing into thousands of tiny splinters.
The guard stared down at it, wide-eyed, mouth agape.
Grinsa nodded with grim satisfaction. "I'll do that to every spear in the sept if I have to. Now get away from us so we can talk."
The Fal'Borna looked up at the Forelander, saying nothing, fear and rage mingling on his square face and making him look young. After a few moments he and the other guard turned and strode toward the nearest of their comrades.
"You're just giving E'Menua more reason to be angry," Cresenne said, her voice so low that Besh wasn't certain he had heard her correctly.
Grinsa scowled at her.
She didn't flinch from that look. Besh doubted that he could have been so brave. "You know it's true," she went on. "He's been looking for reasons to condemn these two and make you an outcast in the sept. And you just keep giving them to him."
The Forelander exhaled sharply and looked away, his expression softening into something more akin to a grimace. "You're right," he said. He looked at Besh and Sirj. "Forgive me. I haven't handled any of this very well."
Sirj shook his head. "I'm not sure it's your fault."
"I think most of it is," Grinsa said. "I was so certain that we could use the n'qlae to keep E'Menua from doing any harm. I was wrong. And what Cresenne said is true: I've been provoking the a'laq at every turn. I can't seem to stop myself."
"So is there anything we can do?" Besh asked.
"There has to be," Grinsa said. "I'm not going to let these people execute you. I'll fight off every one of them if I have to."
"You've been trying that," Cresenne told him, softening the words with a smile. "Maybe we should try something different."
Besh wondered if the Forelander would grow angry again. But the man smiled and took her hand.
"Point taken," he said. "You have something in mind?"
The woman shrugged. "You could try talking to Q'Daer."
"Yes!" Besh said quickly, drawing the gazes of all three of them. "When they were using their magic on me, and E'Menua was making me say those things, I had the distinct impression that he was doing it for Q'Daer."
"Of course," Grinsa agreed. "He was with us on the plain. We've been claiming all along that you saved his life as well as mine. If E'Menua can convince him that this isn't true, he can convince every Fal'Borna in the sept."
"Will he listen to you?" Cresenne asked.
"I don't know. I get along with him only slightly better than I do with E'Menua. But I'll try."
Cresenne nodded, then faced Besh again. "Did the n'qlae do what she promised she would?"
Besh frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Did she let you tell the truth? Are you sure it was E'Menua and not she who made you say those things at the end?"
He nodded. "I'm sure. She had a light touch. She compelled me to speak, but that was all. The magic that forced me to lie came from someone else."
"All right, then," she said, gazing off in the direction the n'qlae had gone when she left them.
"You're going to speak with her?" Grinsa asked.
"I'm going to try. She probably won't listen to me. The last time we spoke she basically accused me of trying to steal her husband."
Grinsa raised an eyebrow. "You never told me that."
"It wasn't worth telling." She looked at the two Mettai. "It was my idea to use mind-bending magic, which makes me as responsible as Grinsa for what happened here. I'll find some way to undo the damage we've done."
"This isn't good."
Besh looked at Sirj, who had spoken, and then turned in the direction the younger man was looking. The two guards Grinsa had sent away were returning with four more warriors.
"They can't hurt you while I'm here," Grinsa said.
"No," Cresenne said. "But they can once we're gone. Don't provoke them."
Besh heard Grinsa exhale through his teeth.
"Again, she's right," the Forelander said, looking at Besh. "You should go into the shelter. We'll do what we can."
Just a few hours before, Besh had marveled at the comfort of the z'kal and had been more than happy to call the structure his home for a few days. Now that it had become a prison rather than a shelter, he was loath to step foot in it. He knew, though, that they had no choice.
"We don't blame you for any of this," he said quickly. "It was the a'laq's doing. We know that. But we'll be grateful for any help you can give us."
Grinsa nodded. "We won't rest until you're free."
"Come on," Sirj said, pulling aside the flap of rilda skin that covered the entrance to the shelter and motioning Besh inside.
Besh glanced back at the approaching warriors one more time and then slipped into the shelter. Sirj followed him. It was dark within, and it felt far smaller than it had when he awoke that morning.
"They're in the z'kal," Besh heard Grinsa say. "And I understand that you've been ordered to guard them. But if I hear that any of you has put so much as a toe inside that shelter, if I hear that you've threatened or abused those men in any way, I'll kill every one of you. You understand me?"
Besh didn't hear any reply from the Fal'Borna, nor did he hear Grinsa or Cresenne say anything more. After some time he assumed that the two of them had moved off, she to find the n'qlae, he to find Q'Daer. He looked at Sirj again, feeling that he should offer some word of reassurance. But nothing came to him. He lay down on his pallet and closed his eyes.
Cresenne looked for D'Pera in the same place they had found her earlier, but the woman wasn't there. She knew better than to go to the shelter D'Pera and E'Menua shared. Even if the n'qlae was there, Cresenne couldn't approach her for fear of letting the a'laq know what she was doing. She walked to the tanning circle, but didn't find D'Pera there, either. She was about to give up her search when she spotted a lone figure walking near the horse paddock.
She set out in that direction, but before she had gone far, one of the young Fal'Borna girls who cared for Bryntelle intercepted her, telling her that Bryntelle was crying and appeared to be hungry.
Cursing her foolishness and feeling somewhat ashamed for having forgotten her child, Cresenne followed the girl. As the young Fal'Borna had surmised, Bryntelle was ravenous and nursed greedily for far longer than she usually did. By the time Cresenne had finished feeding her and had changed her swaddling, she felt certain that whomever it was who had been out near the paddock would be gone. To her surprise, though, that lone figure was still there. It almost seemed that he or she hadn't moved at all.
Cresenne hurried toward the figure. A bank of low dark clouds had rolled in over the plain, and a cold wind now flattened the grass that surrounded the sept. Before she had gone far, Cresenne could see that it was in fact the n'qlae she'd seen. The woman stood with her back to the sept, her wrap pulled tight around her shoulders, her long white hair dancing fitfully in the gale.
Cresenne knew that the n'qlae wouldn't hear her approach over the wind, which hissed in the grass and whistled in the wood of the paddock. So when she was a short distance from the woman, she cleared her throat.