“I owe him my life twice over and a great deal more besides.”
“He vanished with your son.”
“We found signs of a struggle outside the gates at Windham… and Paulo’s blood. We thought the Destroyer had killed him.”
Ven’Dar was a wise man. He made no attempt to give comfort when it wasn’t possible, nor did he intrude with words when I desired none. He didn’t question me during that long, hot afternoon as I sat with Paulo, for the Preceptor already shared my most painful and intimate truths. I was not likely to hide anything of importance from him for long. And when the Healer came at sunset to check on Paulo and bring him out of the deep sleep to which she had sent him, Ven’Dar knew I would not leave, even though it had become almost unbearable for me to watch a Healer work. So he stood behind me, laid his hands on my shoulders, and cast a whispered winding of words about my pain.
One can never recall the words of power spoken by a Word Winder making his cast. Sometimes you’ll hear a phrase in casual conversation, or catch an inflection in someone else’s speech that will infuse you with a breath-catching emotion far beyond what is warranted by the current circumstance, and people say it is because the sound has recalled to you a Word Winder’s enchantment. All I knew was that for a blessed moment I was eased. Then the Healer was done, and I was offering Paulo a cup of water.
“My lord!” The dismay that glanced across his face when he saw me caused a stone to settle in my gut.
“My friend,” I said, forcing a smile and a calm I did not feel. “Of all the stragglers we’ve picked up in the Wastes, I never expected to find my most faithful companion. Are you feeling better?”
I would have sworn he turned pale under the sunburn. “I thought I was done for,” he said. “It’s come a habit I got to break.”
“I’m glad we found you.”
“There was a sandstorm. Guess I took a wrong turn somewhere.”
He sat up, took the cup, and drained it, never removing his intent gaze from my face. I wondered what he was looking for, but he spoke before I could ask. “She’s dead, then?”
“What do you mean?”
“The Lady. I kept hopin‘ you’d been able to - But I guess not.”
“Seri is alive.”
He almost leaped out of the bed. “Cripes! You had me there for a bit. I thought… you just looked… damn! Where is… I mean… she’s not here, I guess. Not in the Wastes. The ones who found me said you had battles going on.”
“She’s safe in Avonar.”
He breathed deeply and slowly. “It’s fine to hear that.”
“She was very ill.”
His eyes flicked away from my face. “I’d give a deal to see her.”
“I’ll take you to her, if you want. It might do her good to see you. Once a day we send our wounded back to Avonar through a portal. But we can’t keep it open for too long at a time lest the Zhid find our camps. I’ve matters to attend tonight, but we’ll go tomorrow if you’re feeling up to it.”
The wind billowed the tent walls, rattling the lamps and tools hung from hooks on the cross poles.
Paulo settled back onto the thin pillow the Healer had slipped under his head. “I think I’ll sleep then, if it’s all right. I got to tell you about what happened and all, but I’m swiped right now. I was afraid to sleep out there in the desert, thinking as how I’d never get up again. Got a lot to make up.”
“I’m sure that’s true. The Preceptor Ven’Dar and his aides will be close if you need anything, but I’ll tell them to let you sleep.”
“I’ll be all right. I don’t want to keep nobody from their business.”
“You can tell me all about your adventures tomorrow before we go to Seri. I have to understand how you got here, where you’ve been… You know that.”
“I understand. My lord, am I your prisoner?”
“No. You’re not a prisoner. Sleep well, lad.”
I took my leave and stepped through the curtain. Ven’Dar was waiting, and I motioned him to walk out into the night with me. “Leave him unguarded,” I said.
“But, my lord, if he’s been with your son… ”
“I’ll be watching.”
The night wind blew cold in the Wastes and quickly erased the memory of the furnace that was daylight. For a while I shared my warriors’ campfires, allowing them to relive the day’s battle for me until they’d rid themselves of enough of it that they could sleep, but always I stood where I could keep an eye on Ven’Dar’s dark tent. As the hour grew late and the campfires smoldered, flaring into false life with a gust of wind, then dying again in swirls of sparks, the warriors rolled into their blankets to dream away the horror.
Ordinarily, once I had seen to those who had to face the Zhid another day, I would go to the wounded, but on this night I sat in the dark on a hillock of warm sand and gravel, alone until Bareil brought me warm cheese, bread, and ale. “Do you wish for company, my lord, or should I leave you?”
“You are always welcome, Dulcé. A tree does not consider its trunk ‘company.’ ”
Bareil, the wise companion who had been instrumental in restoring my memory and saving my sanity after Dassine’s death, sat cross-legged on the sand beside me. “How fares young Paulo?”
“The Healers tell me he’s only blistered and dry. He tells me nothing at all.”
“Surely you do not doubt him? He would give his life for you.”
“Watch Ven’Dar’s tent, and we’ll see.”
I considered invoking the link between my madrissé and me, to discover if somewhere in his vast knowledge he could formulate any good reason why Paulo would be wandering around in the desert beyond the Castyx Rocks, bearing a message for Serf - any reason that would not speak treason. But, on second thought, I needed no more unproven theories.
Less than a quarter hour passed until the dark form rolled out from under the rear of the blue tent, crept to a clump of dead trees, then slipped through the darkness toward the lights and activity of the pavilion where the wounded lay. Bareil and I followed quietly, staying well back. The boy’s timing was perfect. He lay still on the sand, waiting for half an hour or more as the Healers went about their business. But Ven’Dar had no sooner finished the words that left a wavering oval distortion in the air before the pavilion, than the slender figure darted out of the shadows and straight through the portal. A few shouts rang out from those watching, but I assured everyone that there was no cause for alarm, and they soon went back to their grim business of transporting their fellows through the portal, patching the lesser wounds of those who were to stay, and caring for the dead.
I told Bareil to take my horse back to my headquarters, then I spent a few moments with each of the wounded before reopening the portal to Avonar and stepping through it myself.
The portal opened into a large building that had been converted into a hospice for those the Healers could not return to health or those who needed a longer time to recover. I didn’t go there often enough; it was too difficult when there was nothing I could do for those who lay in the endless rows of simple white pallets. But on that night, I spent a while with my brave warriors. I knew where I would find Paulo eventually, but it would take him some time to learn where she was and get himself there.
In the quiet hour before dawn I commandeered a horse and rode out of the north gates of Avonar, up the winding road that led to the Lydian Vale and a quiet, graceful white house called Nentao, “the Haven.” I had refused numerous offers of protection from those uneasy at seeing their sovereign ride out unaccompanied in the night. I hoped what I told them was true, that I had no need of guards. I didn’t want to believe that Paulo had turned traitor, too.
When I left my horse in the front courtyard and walked through the rose arbor into the garden, the sky was already a vibrant pink. A hand touched my sleeve from out of a leafy bower. I would have been sorely disappointed if nothing of the sort had occurred, and I stepped into the sheltering shrubbery without hesitation.