Not that Travis could imagine there was anyone who might detect them. As far as he could see, there was only desert. No trace of any living thing–plant, animal, or person–broke the monotony of sand and sky.
They spent the day dozing as best they could beneath the cover of the shelter, though even in the shade the heat was oppressive, and any sleep led to fitful dreams from which they woke sweating, with heads throbbing. Travis considered speaking to Master Larad as a way to pass the time, but his mouth was too dry for conversation, and he had already drunk his ration of water for the morning. Besides, the Runelord was curled up on a small carpet and lay so still that Travis began to worry about him.
He’s fine, Grace spoke in Travis’s mind, touching his arm. At least mostly. He’s still feeling seasick from last night’s camel ride. Or sandsick, I suppose. I gave him a simple that’s helping him keep down some food and water. He just needs to rest.
Travis nodded, glad Grace was keeping an eye on Larad, then tried to rest himself. He could speak to the Runelord later.
Throughout the day, the T’golmoved in and out of the shelter, appearing and vanishing like the shadows in Travis’s half dreams. He saw more of them than he had at night; even the assassins needed rest. In addition to Avhir, there was Rafid–a compact man with a harsh, brooding face–and Kylees, a dark‑skinned woman who would have been lovely if she smiled. She didn’t.
Travis did not speak to the T’gol, though he often felt their eyes–bronze, copper, and gold–upon him. Also, Rafid seemed often to glower at Farr, though the dervish appeared not to notice.
At last the sun sank toward the western dunes. The T’goldismantled the shelter and lashed the packs to the camels.
“You’ve got a cut on your hand,” Grace said to one of the assassins. It was the woman Kylees.
“It is nothing,” the T’golsaid, starting to pull away, but Grace caught her hand with surprising speed and turned it over.
“The wound is small,” Grace said in her brisk doctor’s voice. “However, there’s some swelling. It could be infected.”
“I said it is nothing. There was a sand scorpion in my hut in the village yesterday. I was foolish enough to be slow in smashing it with my hand, giving it time to sting me. However, their poison is weak, and I bled it out with my knife.”
“Good. Then it should heal well. But let me give you an ointment–”
“I do not need your petty northern magics,” Kylees said, pulling her hand back and stalking from the camp.
“Proud much?” Travis said, watching the assassin walk away.
Grace sighed. “I think I embarrassed her. She shouldn’t have let that scorpion sting her. T’goldon’t like to make mistakes.”
“Only sometimes they do,” Travis said, his gaze moving to Vani.
Grace took his arm. “Come on. I think your rear end has a date with a camel.”
They set out again as dusk stole over the desert. As before, the night zephyrs soon died down, and the silence of the desert was broken only by the groan of sand settling: an eerie sound that made Travis think of distant voices moaning in pain.
Master Larad appeared to have grown somewhat accustomed to the gait of his camel. He looked only moderately nauseous, and Travis decided to see if talking might take his mind off his discomfort. With some effort, he managed to get his camel close to the Runelord’s.
“So what was so important that you traveled hundreds of leagues, crossed the ocean, and rode a camel just to tell me?”
Larad grimaced. “If I had known what the journey would be like, perhaps I would have rethought undertaking it.” His grimace became a bitter smile. “But is that not always the way, Master Wilder? The foolish blithely go where the wise dare not venture. So here I am.”
“And?”
“And magic is failing, Master Wilder,” Larad said, his eyes glinting in the light of the full moon. “Both runic magic and the magic of the Weirding, which is spun by witches.”
Travis let out a breath. “Grace told me. But I think I knew it before I even came to Eldh. Magic is always weak on Earth, but the last few runes I spoke there seemed to keep going awry, even though they should have been simple.”
“The runestones are crumbling,” Larad went on. “As are all bound runes. Do you understand what that means?”
Of course he did. How could he not? He was the one who had broken it, then bound it again.
“Eldh,” Travis said softly. “It’s a bound rune.”
“Yes, it is. And if the power of runes continues to weaken, soon there will be nothing to hold that rune together.”
Travis clutched the reins in numb hands. “Did you tell Grace this?”
“Her Majesty’s thoughts have been focused on the rift in the sky, and on finding you. I saw no need to add to the knowledge that already weighs upon her.”
“She believes I can stop the rift,” Travis said, sighing.
The scars that crisscrossed Larad’s face were silver in the moonlight. “So the dragon said, and dragons can only speak truth. You have the ability to discover the Last Rune, Master Wilder, and to wield it. But there is one thing Queen Grace does not realize.”
To Travis it was as clear as the moon. “The end of magic. If runes no longer work properly, how can I speak the Last Rune? Or bind it?” He was sweating despite the chill air. “But maybe there’s still time. Magic hasn’t stopped working, not completely.”
“Yet it grows weaker each day, and you tell me that for you even simple spells go awry. What of greater magics? Have you tried any powerful runespells of late? Perhaps they cannot be worked anymore. Perhaps time has already run out. I journeyed here to tell you that. And to bring you these.”
He reached inside his robe and drew out an object: a small iron box, carved with runes.
Travis gave him a startled look. “You brought the Imsari with you?”
“Magic is weakening, but the Great Stones can amplify the power of a runespell many times over. I thought you might need them in order to speak the Last Rune.”
Larad held out the box. Travis started to reach for it; his hand ached to hold the Imsari, to feel them pulse against his palm.
By force of will, he pulled his hand back. There was already too much temptation to use power in this place. “You keep them for now,” he said, the words hoarse.
Larad gave him a quizzical look, then shrugged and tucked the box back inside his robe.
They rode in silence after that. As the camel paced, Travis rubbed his right hand, feeling the tingle of the rune of runes on his palm. It was quiescent now, but if he spoke a rune it would flare to life.
Or would it? Magic was growing weaker, and Travis hadn’t tried speaking a rune of significant power in over three years. What if he tried and couldn’t?
Why not find out, Travis?Jack’s voice spoke in his mind. How aboutLir ? The rune of light can be used to work wondrous magics. It’s always been one of my favorites. We shall all speak it with you in chorus, and create a midnight sun blazing in the sky!
A thousand voices murmured in Travis’s mind; he moistened his lips, preparing to speak the rune.
“By Olrig!” Larad swore, gazing upward, his camel coming to a halt.