"Of course, A'Laq." Grinsa stood. "Thank you."
Before Grinsa could leave, L'Norr asked, "Where would you go?" Grinsa shook his head. "We don't know yet."
Even after Grinsa had told him twice, Besh couldn't quite believe that he had heard the Forelander correctly. "They really will let us go?" he said. "Whenever we want?"
Grinsa and Cresenne were both smiling. Even their baby had a huge grin on her pale, beautiful face.
"Whenever you want," Grinsa told him.
"First light," Sirj said. "I want to leave in the morning."
It was cold and it had begun to snow. Besh had no doubt that the journey home would be difficult and long. But he was every bit as eager to be leaving as Sirj.
"Yes," he agreed. "First light."
"Will you be coming with us?" Sirj asked the Forelander and his wife.
The two Qirsi shared a look and then Grinsa shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not. I don't know yet where we're going, but we've been in the sovereignties, and they weren't at all welcoming."
"No," Besh said. "I don't suppose they were."
"I believe I can prevail upon the Fal'Borna to give you food and horses," Grinsa said. "Cresenne and I can even give you some gold if you need it."
"We don't," Besh said. "But thank you. We'd welcome the food and horses, though."
Grinsa and Cresenne left them for a time, saying that they wanted to give Besh and Sirj a chance to gather their belongings. In truth, though, the Mettai had precious little with them. They put their clothes in their travel sacks, and they were done.
They had been granted the freedom to go anywhere in the sept, but they rarely took advantage of this, preferring to remain near their shelter, where they felt most comfortable. On this day, however, Besh insisted that they go to see the n'qlae. Sirj seemed reluctant, but he followed anyway, as Besh knew he would. Sirj felt responsible for him, and would want to make sure that Besh was safe.
The n'qlae was in her z'kal, and she greeted the men with little warmth. "We'll be leaving tomorrow," Besh told her. "We simply wanted to thank you for helping as you did."
"I'm not sure I did very much," the woman said. "But you're welcome."
"We're sorry for the loss of the a'laq."
The n'qlae nodded, but said nothing.
"We're sorry as well for the death of the other Weaver, Q'Daer."
"He was closest to L'Norr, the new a'laq," the woman said. "I think you'd be best off staying away from him. He won't be interested in your sympathy."
Besh nodded, thinking that it had been a mistake to come speak with the woman. "Very well. Thank you, N'Qlae."
The two Mettai left her shelter and returned to their own. Neither of them said a word.
They ate their evening meal with Grinsa, Cresenne, and Bryntelle, and for once their conversation with the Forelanders didn't linger on matters of war or their captivity or even the Fal'Borna. They exchanged stories about their homelands and their families. They talked about magic. And they tried to ignore the fact that come the morning they would say good-bye and never see one another again. They stayed with Grinsa and Cresenne late into the night, lowering their voices after Bryntelle fell asleep. But still, the evening ended too soon.
The following morning Besh and Sirj awoke with first light and, upon emerging from their shelter, found a young Fal'Borna warrior waiting for them in the cold morning air. Two horses stood beside the man, each laden with a pair of leather sacks filled with dried rilda meat, smoked cheese, and hard bread. Besh thanked the man, who just nodded and left them.
As the warrior strode away, Grinsa and Cresenne arrived from a different direction.
"Is everything all right?" Grinsa asked, staring after the Fal'Borna. "Yes," Besh said. "Horses, food-this is all that we were hoping for." Grinsa frowned, glancing around the sept. "The a'laq hasn't come." Besh smiled ruefully. "No, but I didn't expect him."
"You saved the life of every man and woman here. You deserve more."
"We're Mettai," Besh said, as if that should have explained everything. Grinsa shook his head, looking like he might say more. But Cresenne placed a slender hand on his shoulder, and that seemed to calm him.
He stepped forward and gathered Sirj in a warm embrace. "You're a good man," the Forelander said. "May the gods grant you and your family a long, happy life together."
Sirj thumped him on the back. "Thank you, Grinsa. May they help you and yours find a home where you can be safe and live out your years in peace."
Grinsa stepped back, and Cresenne gave Sirj a light kiss on the cheek. "Thank you for saving my husband," she said.
Sirj laughed. "I think he returned the favor more than once."
Grinsa faced Besh, smiling sadly. "You still have F'Ghara's necklace?" he asked. "You might need it if you encounter any Fal'Borna on the way back." Besh patted his pocket. "I have it. But we'll try to avoid any septs just the same."
"Probably wise," Grinsa said. He regarded Besh for several moments. "I wish we'd had more time," he said. "I think I could have learned much from you."
"Thank you," Besh said. "I wonder if you would do me the honor of exchanging blades with me."
The Forelander looked puzzled.
"It's an old Mettai tradition," Besh told him. "A gesture of friendship and respect."
He pulled out his knife and offered it to Grinsa. After a moment, Grinsa took it. Then he pulled out his own blade and handed it to Besh.
"You honor me," Grinsa said.
Besh smiled. "That was my intention."
They embraced like brothers, and to Besh's surprise he found himself blinking back tears.
"Be well, Besh," Grinsa whispered. "May the rest of your days be filled with joy."
"And yours, Grinsa."
Besh released the man and turned to Cresenne. "Take care of him," he said. "He seems to spend much of his time taking care of others."
She smiled. "You've noticed that, have you?" She kissed Besh as she had Sirj. "I'll do my best. And who will take care of you?"
Besh smiled in turn. "Sirj will. And his wife, my daughter. And their children. I go home to a good life. You needn't worry about me."
"Good," Cresenne said. "Then I won't. I'll just thank you for all you did for us-and for the Southlands-and leave it at that."
Besh nodded, his eyes stinging again. He turned quickly to Sirj. "Let's be on our way," he said. "We've a long journey." He paused, looking at the Forelanders one last time. Then he climbed onto his horse and led Sirj out of the sept and onto the plain.
For a long time the two Mettai rode in silence, as a cold wind swirled around them. Besh had expected to feel cold and miserable throughout this ride back to Kirayde, and he thought it likely that there would be times when he would. But for this morning at least, his relief at being away from the Fal'Borna and on his way home was enough to keep him warm.
"Do you think they're all right?" Sirj asked suddenly. "Who?"
"Elica and the children."
Besh could picture them all in his mind-Elica, strong and long-limbed, her dark hair framing her face; Mihas, Annze, and Cam laughing at some joke one of them had told, their dark eyes dancing. And beside them all, he saw his beloved Ema, dead these many years, but still a presence in his heart and his memories. She looked at him now and smiled, as if to reassure him. To reassure them both.
"Yes," he said. "They're fine."
Sirj cast a look his way. Clearly he wanted to believe what Besh had said, but was afraid to. "How can you be so sure?" he asked.