A GRAY DAY, A COLD GRANITE CLIFF, CRAGGY AND HIGH ENOUGH TO HAVE SNOW THOUGH THERE IS NONE TO BE SEEN. A MAN WITH A FACE TATTOOED BLUE WITH FEATHERS FALLS, PLUMMETING STRAIGHT AND TRUE AS A STONE FALLS, AND SO SHE KNOWS HE IS ALREADY DEAD. A BIRD FALLS WITH HIM, BLUE-TIPPED WINGS HELD TIGHT AGAINST ITS BODY, AND DHULYN KNOWS THAT THE BIRD HAS TIME-MORE THAN ENOUGH-TO SPREAD ITS WINGS AND SAVE ITSELF,
BUT SHE KNOWS THAT IT WILL NOT, THAT THOUGH ITS HEART BEATS AND ITS EYES ARE CLEAR, IT, TOO, IS ALREADY DEAD.
Dhulyn sighed and tried to turn over, opened her eyes when she found the weight of bedcoverings impeding her. Mountain wool blankets, from the weight, and the sharp smell. She snaked one hand free and felt it caught by Parno’s, larger, rougher, but as familiar to her as her own.
“Have I been asleep long?”
“A few hours. Is the pain better, or worse?”
“Better, I think.”
Parno turned her hand over and kissed the palm. She pushed herself up on one elbow, and, using her grip on Parno’s hand for leverage, managed to roll onto her side so she was still lying under the covers, but able to see her Partner without twisting her neck.
“Anything?”
“More discussion, but they’re agreed. Dal will meet you at Yerloa’s Spring at the hour the moon sets tomorrow night. That will bring you to the north gates of the city just as they open, and we’ll meet inside the Dome just as the morning watch is settling in and getting complacent.”
“What of the Tarkina?”
“She’ll stay here where it’s safer. Mar and that Scholar boy as well.” He took the hand he still held, and bumped it softly against his lips before adding, “Well-watched, as you advise, but I still say you should let me kill the twisted little book reader.”
Dhulyn sighed. “It is the purpose of Scholars to learn, and this one has learned something of the world that his Library neglected to show him. Let him live with that knowledge, and with the knowledge of the evil he is capable of. And let us not forget, we may yet learn something from him ourselves.”
Parno shrugged, though his own smile did not touch his eyes. “It’s your decision, I suppose. Let me know if you change your mind, though. I’d be happy to kill the little dung eater later.”
Dhulyn tugged his hand. “I’ve Seen Gun helping Mar. They were both looking into that bowl of hers.”
Parno sat back, releasing her hand and placing his own on his thighs. “They’ve been wondering, the Tarkin especially, whether you’ve Seen anything. I don’t think they’re going to care much about Mar and her bowl.”
“Daresay you’re right.” Dhulyn began pushing back the blankets that covered her. “I saw Lok-iKol again, and I killed him again. Sometimes he had two eyes, sometimes one.”
“But you still See his death, so that’s to the good. Nothing we’ve done so far changes that?”
“Evidently.”
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“I Saw Tek-aKet on the Carnelian Throne.”
“So why don’t you look happy about it?”
She shrugged as best she could lying propped up on one elbow. “I was standing next to him with my sword out.”
Parno nodded his understanding. “Armed in the presence of the Tarkin is one thing, but weapons out in the throne room? That’s not likely.”
“Exactly what I thought. The throne room might have been just an overlap from the image of Lok-iKol, but…”
“You don’t know for certain.”
“I don’t know for certain.”
When she looked into Parno’s eyes, she saw there the same knowledge he would see on her face. She couldn’t know for certain. She never had, and this is what the loss of her tribe really meant-not just her mother and father, but the loss of all and any who might have taught her to School her Visions, to read them properly, even to guide them. That had always been the drawback, the flaw, to using her Sight. But with so much, and so many, relying on her now, what else could she do?
“I need to know more about how the Sight works,” she said. “I can’t go on hiding from it.” She looked up at him. “That’s the lesson the Scholar has taught me.”
“When this is over, we’ll go looking for some answers.”
“It seems the Scholar might have answers.”
“You just don’t want me to kill him.” Parno’s swift grin faded just as swiftly. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”
She nodded, lower lip caught between her teeth. “The Green Shadow fears the Marked, for reasons unknown to us. It follows that the Shadow has knowledge of the Marked, also unknown to us. In killing it, might I be destroying the source of the very information I seek?”
“Do we have a choice?”
She kept her eyes down.
“You Saw Tek on the throne, so that has to be good,” Parno said, in the firm tones of a man telling the surgeon to go ahead and cut.
“I Saw him on the throne,” she agreed.
“Watch Dal, my soul,” he said after a moment’s silence. “I’ve made it clear he’s not to think of me, but… watch him.”
“I do not like these Houses of yours,” Dhulyn said, taking his offered hand and letting him pull her out of the bed.
“They’re none of mine,” he said.
But Dhulyn had noticed that he’d called Lok-iKol-and even the Tarkin himself-by their diminutives, Lok and Tek. As if he felt somehow free to speak of his old kin as he must have done when they had all been young together.
When Mar saw Parno Lionsmane run down the steps and into the entrance on the far side of the inner courtyard, she immediately abandoned the stone bench where she’d been told to wait for the Tarkina, and flew up the stairs the Lionsmane had used. Earlier, he’d been carrying blankets, and the only person Lionsmane would be carrying blankets for would be the Wolfshead. And that meant she was up these stairs. Mar went directly to the only closed door on the floor above and opened it without knocking.
“Dhulyn Wolfshead.”
The Wolfshead had her heel hooked on the sill of the window casement, and was leaning over, stretching out the long muscles in the back of her leg. The older woman looked over her shoulder, lowered her heel to the floor, and straightened to her full height.
Heart still pounding from her run up the stairs, breath still coming short, Mar took one look at the Wolfshead’s face and flung herself into the Mercenary’s arms.
“Dhulyn, I’m so sorry,” Mar said, sobbing out the words. “This is all my fault.”
Mar felt the Wolfshead relax, ever so slightly. The muscled arms came up, and the long-fingered hands took Mar by the shoulders and held her away.
“Sun and Moon, Lady Mar.” The words were kind, but the tone, and the face when Mar had courage to look up at it, were cool and closed. “Don’t make yourself so important, child,” the Wolfshead continued. “You didn’t make the Jaldeans insane, and you didn’t make Lok-iKol rebel against his Tarkin.”
“But you and the Lionsmane-”
“We’re still whole and hearty, no harm done; in fact the contrary, if our help to the Tarkin has come in time.”
“But I betrayed you.” Mar wiped her face with her sleeve. “Please, let me explain. You must forgive me.”
“Tchah. There’s nothing to forgive. How could you betray us? It’s not as though we’re Brothers.”
Mar swallowed with difficulty, the Wolfshead’s face blurring as she blinked away tears. Finally, she nodded, and, keeping her eyes lowered, left the room.
“I give you notice, Scholar, that my Partner keeps giving me reasons I shouldn’t kill you. The day will come she’ll run out.” Parno had found Gundaron of Valdomar exactly where he’d looked for him, coming out of the underground council room after a short audience with the Tarkin. The boy had what seemed like a bundle of cut paper in his arms.