“Why? I am already here.”
That was, of course, vintage Kivara, thought Ryana. Living only in the present. “Perhaps it does not mean anything to you,” she said, “but it is important to Sorak to know and understand his origins. And perhaps to some of the others, as well.”
“Important enough to risk going to a place full of undead?” Kivara said. She shook her head. It looked odd to see him evidence her mannerisms. Even though Ryana had grown up with him, it was something she had never quite gotten used to completely. It always threw her off a bit.
“That is not the only reason, as I told you,” said Ryana. “We go to Bodach in the service of the Sage.”
“This is boring,” said Kivara, her limited attention span used up. “I don’t wish to talk about it anymore.”
“What would you rather talk about?”
“I don’t know. It’s not much fun talking to you. You never have anything interesting to say. You never like to have any fun.”
“I like to have fun as much as anyone,” Ryana said. “However, there is a time and place for such things.”
“Only you never seem to find the time or the place,” Kivara replied petulantly. “Look at what we’re doing, Ryana! We flying! We are as high as birds! Does it not make your spirit soar?”
“Yes,” said Ryana, “but if I only pay attention to the soaring of my spirit, then I may do something careless, and we will both fall to the ground and to our deaths. That is something that you need to learn, Kivara. There is nothing wrong in taking joy in your emotions and in the thrilling sensations you experience, but not at the expense of your better judgment. Because if you do, then you lose all sense of perspective and self-preservation.”
“That is what the Guardian is for,” Kivara said indifferently. “I cannot be bothered with such things.
Not when I am flying!” And she jumped to her knees, throwing out her arms once more. The raft once again rocked dangerously on the wind funnel that bore them up, and Ryana grabbed her for support.
“I think that will be quite enough,” the Guardian said, taking over from Kivara. The voice was still Sorak’s, but the tone was completely different. The pitch had dropped slightly, and her voice was one of calm control and reassurance. Ryana could imagine Kivara protesting loudly within Sorak’s mind, but the Guardian had emerged now and taken firm control. “Forgive me,” she said. “She slipped out.”
“It’s all right, Guardian,” said Ryana. “No harm done.”
“I am not so sure,” the Guardian replied. Her tone sounded slightly concerned. “Kivara is growing more and more difficult to control. Each time she comes out, she more stubbornly resists going back under. She appears to be growing stronger.”
“You think there is a chance that you may lose control?” Ryana asked, unnerved by the idea.
“I do not know for certain,” the Guardian replied. “I certainly hope not. That would upset the balance of the tribe.”
“It could upset a lot more than that,” Ryana said, looking down at the raft uneasily. “She isn’t bad, I know that, but the trouble is she simply does not think.”
“She is very young,” the Guardian replied. “And in a full grown male body, at that. That makes things more difficult.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Ryana said. “Well, we can always look on the bright side. At least we’ve lost Valsavis. There is no way that he can possibly catch us now.”
“Are you quite certain?”
Ryana shrugged. “Even mounted on a fast kank, it would take him days just to reach the silt basins, and then he’d still have to go all the way around them to reach the peninsula where Bodach lies. By the time he gets there, we will surely have completed our task.”
“Perhaps,” the Guardian replied. “But then what? Bodach is still a long way from anywhere. If I recall the map in The Wanderer’s Journal correctly, the nearest settlement to Bodach is North Ledopolus, and the nearest city would be Balic, but it lies on the opposite shore of the Estuary of the Forked Tongue. We would still have to cover a great deal of ground to reach civilization, and that would give Valsavis more than ample opportunity to close the distance between us.”
“I had not thought of that,” Ryana said with concern. “Has Sorak considered this?”
“He has considered it,” the Guardian replied, nodding. “For the present, he is primarily concerned with surviving the undead in Bodach and finding the Breastplate of Argentum. And that will certainly pose challenges enough. Valsavis can be dealt with later, but you must not think that we have seen the last of him. He is too clever and resourceful a man to be so easily discounted. True, he will have a long journey to Bodach, but there is no telling how long it may take us to find the talisman. And we have no way of knowing how much of our time will be spent dealing with the threat of the undead. All Valsavis has to do is head for Bodach, since he already knows that is our destination. And he also knows that the only way back to civilization from Bodach is to the west.”
“We could just fly right over him,” Ryana said. “Perhaps,” the Guardian said. “But we do not know that Kara would be willing to convey us to our next destination. She has already undertaken much on our behalf. Or on behalf of the Sage, I should say. Either way, it would not be fair for us to expect any more from her. If she chooses to return to Salt View once she has done her part in conveying us to Bodach, that is certainly her right.”
“Yes, of course,” Ryana said. “I understand.”
“Don’t worry, little sister,” Sorak said, emerging suddenly. “We will manage. We always have.”
She smiled, pleased to see him back again, especially after her unsettling experience with Kivara. “Did you have a nice nap?”
“Yes. I truly needed the rest. But what of you? You have not slept.”
“You think I could sleep under these circumstances?” she said.
“I suggest you try,” he said. “You will need all of your strength and energy when we reach Bodach.”
“It should be morning when we get there,” she said. “The undead will be at rest.”
“Yes,” said Sorak. “If we are fortunate, we may complete our task in time and leave Bodach before nightfall. But we must not count on that. We cannot afford to assume anything. You really must try to get some rest. At least for several hours.”
She glanced around uncertainly. “Sleep on a tiny wooden raft hundreds of feet above the ground, buffeted by the wind?” She shook her head. “Well, I can try, but in truth, I do not think that it will do any good at all.”
“Here,” he said. “I will hold you. Try to get some sleep.”
She snuggled into his strong arms. It felt good to be there.
“Close your eyes,” he said.
She took a deep breath and shut her eyes. Suddenly, she heard a gentle humming in her mind, very low at first, then rising slowly, until the voice of Lyric, singing beautifully, not aloud, but in her mind, filled her with his song. She held her breath for a moment in amazement and delight. She had never known that he could do that. Then she sighed and settled into Sorak’s arms, secure in their embrace as Lyric sang to her, a gently soothing, haunting melody for her and her alone. The rocking motion of the raft upon the wind seemed almost like the rocking of a cradle. She smiled as she lay in Sorak’s arms, her mind filled with Lyric’s song, and soon she drifted off to sleep and dreamt of the verdant valleys and forests high in the Ringing Mountains. And the winds continued to blow them toward the city of the undead.
“Ryana,” Sorak said, squeezing her gently. “Wake up.”
Her eyelids fluttered open, and for a brief moment, she did not remember where she was. She had gone to sleep with Lyric’s beautiful voice singing in her mind and had dreamt of her young girlhood at the villichi convent in the Ringing Mountains.