"We're grateful t' ya far comin' t' see us," Sholi added.
"It was my pleasure." Tirnya winced. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"
Sholi shook her head, a sad smile on her lips. "We understan', Captain. Bless ya, an' go in peace." The woman took Tirnya's hand in hers for just a moment.
Tirnya nodded to them both before walking back to where Thirus was tethered. She knew they were still watching her and she had to make an effort not to seem to be in too much of a hurry.
She untied her mount, climbed slowly into the saddle, and nodded once more to Kherry's parents. Then she started back toward home.
Before she was halfway there, she realized that the only person waiting for her at the house was Zira. She turned and went in search of her men, who were training under Oliban's direction just outside the city walls. When the men saw her coming, they let out a cheer and stopped their training to gather around her.
"How're ya feelin', Captain?" Oliban called, as Tirnya dismounted.
"I'm fine," she said. And for the moment, away from Kherry's parents, away from her mother, surrounded by her soldiers, she truly was. "A bit sore still, but I'm better than I was." She looked around at all the smiling faces. "I owe you boys a bit of thanks, from what I hear."
"We was just afraid another captain would work us harder," Crow said with a grin. "They say Stri is pretty tough on his boys."
Tirnya laughed. "You just earned yourself an extra couple of hours out here, Crow. And your men, too."
The men in Crow's company groaned.
"That is, unless Crow cares to use the gold he got from His Lordship to buy me some ales."
"Gladly," Crow said with a laugh, as the men cheered again. "All right, youse," Oliban said. "Back at it with ya."
The men grumbled a bit, but not for long.
"It's good to see ya, Captain," Dyn told her.
And Qagan said, "Welcome back."
Tirnya thanked them and watched the soldiers get back to work. Oliban stood beside her and for a long time neither of them said anything. But once all the men were working again, he asked in a low voice, "How was it with Kherry's parents?"
She shrugged. "About like you'd expect."
He nodded, but said nothing.
Tirnya hesitated, wanting to say more, but unsure as to whether she should.
"Her father said something strange."
Oliban glanced at her. "Oh?"
She started to tell him more, but then stopped herself. "It was nothing really. He's… he must be having a hard time."
Her lead rider was watching her, looking curious.
Tirnya shook her head and looked away. "I shouldn't have said anything. Please forget that I did."
"Course, Captain."
They watched the men for a time.
"Has there been any more word on the pestilence in Qirsi lands?" she asked.
"The pestilence? Not that I know of, Captain. But I can have someone ask for ya. Perhaps someone in th' marketplace might know."
"No, that's all right. Thank you."
She watched her soldiers for another few moments and then turned to Oliban. "I'm getting tired. I should get back home."
"Yes, Captain. We're glad t' see ya."
Tirnya left them there. She wasn't really tired, but she realized that she needed to speak with her father. No one else would know what to make of what Kherry's father had said to her. And probably no one else would understand why she was so consumed with tidings of the white-hair plague that the merchant had told her about the day of her battle with the brigands.
At home, she looked for her father, but Zira said that she hadn't seen Jenoe in hours. She then looked outside the eastern gate, where Stri often trained his soldiers. He wasn't there either. She finally found her father in the marketplace, of all places. He was speaking with a Qirsi trader, who was selling baubles and blades, but he left the man when she called to him.
Tirnya approached him, her questions about Kherry's father and the pestilence forgotten for the moment.
"What are you doing here, Father?"
He shrugged, looking uneasy. "Nothing, really. Just… just looking around." He frowned. "Can't a man come to the marketplace now and again?"
She'd rarely heard her father lie. He wasn't very good at it. "Are you buying me a gift?" she asked, smiling coyly.
"No," he said, seeming to dismiss the notion as foolish.
"Mother, then?"
He shook his head.
Tirnya's poor relationship with Zira notwithstanding, she felt a sudden rush of outrage. His discomfort, his transparent lies. Could it be?
"Father! Are you keeping a mistress?"
"Absolutely not!" he said, his outrage a match for hers. "How dare you even think it! I would never betray your mother!"
"Then why are you here?" she demanded.
Jenoe started to answer but then stopped himself, looking around the marketplace. Tirnya glanced about as well. People were watching them. Too late, it occurred to her that they'd been speaking in raised voices here in the most crowded part of the city.
He pulled her aside to a narrow lane just off the market.
"I would have preferred that no one hear that," he said, his brows knitted, his deep blue eyes searching the marketplace.
"I'm sorry," Tirnya said. "But I want you to answer me. What are you doing here? Why are you lying to me?"
"I haven't lied!"
She gave him a doubtful look. "You want me to believe that you're just here looking around?"
He avoided her gaze, running a hand over his dark beard, and for a long time, he said nothing.
"Father?"
"It's your fault," he told her, still staring off toward the market. "Mine?"
"You got me thinking the other night." He looked at her. "The night you were wounded. You probably don't even remember all that you said." Actually, she did. She recalled every word of it. "You mean about Deraqor? About my dream?"
"In part, yes. I was thinking more about the pestilence." He nodded toward the stalls and carts in the marketplace. "That's why I came here. I wanted to hear more about what's been happening on the plain."
"What have you learned?" she asked, trying to mask her eagerness.
"Not a lot. Though there are rumors that there was an outbreak in S'Vralna."
"S'Vralna!"
"It's just rumors."
"But if it's true," Tirnya said. She faltered, not certain what she had intended to say next.
Her father eyed her, a slight frown on his face. "If it's true, what?"
"Why are you so interested in this?" she asked, not ready yet to answer his question.
Jenoe shook his head and exhaled heavily. "I don't even know. Our family hasn't had any claim to that land in generations. This is all… idle curiosity."
"Is it?"
"What else could it be?" her father asked pointedly.
She looked around again, then pulled him farther down the lane. "I don't have to tell you, Father. You know already. That's why you're asking questions of merchants. That's why you're still thinking about the ramblings of a wounded soldier, even if she is your daughter."
"What else did you say that night? Something about a dream."
"Deraqor."
Jenoe nodded. "Right, Deraqor."
"You've heard what this pestilence does?" Tirnya asked. "It kills white-hairs. It attacks their magic and drives them to destroy themselves and their homes."
Her father looked troubled. "It's not right to revel in the suffering of others, even white-hairs."
"No," Tirnya said, "it's not. But they're the enemy. Yes, there's been peace for more than a century, but you know as well as I that the Qirsi will never be anything more or less than our enemy."
"So the fact that they're dying like this-"