Rieser snorted softly, then pushed his own sleeve back and passed his left hand over his forearm. An identical mark appeared on the underside. “I have no need of your magic. I have my own.”
Ah ha! Got you. That explains who is maintaining Hâzadriën’s disguise. This man might actually prove useful in a pinch. “No amount of magic is going to hide us from a necromancer or slaver’s wizard. Sometimes a bit of lying works better. So with Micum as our master, we should go unnoticed.”
“And then what?”
“Then I steal that book for you, we all come back, and you let us go.”
Rieser just gave him a smug look and kicked his horse into a trot.
“Now I trust him even less,” Micum muttered in Skalan.
“Me, too, but he knows if he double-crosses us and tries to hurt Alec, Sebrahn will sing again. Maybe Sebrahn could kill a few more of them, in close proximity.”
“Then all we have to do is get Alec to pick a fight with that surly young fellow Rane and we’re home free.”
Seregil had been thinking the same thing, but for later, not now. It had been madness to think that they could take Sebrahn back into Plenimar without someone noticing him. Thero’s disguise was fading away more rapidly now. In the morning light Sebrahn’s skin was blotchy and his hair was more silver than brown. If the Hâzad wanted to look after him while they were gone, he couldn’t think of better caretakers—if Sebrahn let Alec leave. He glanced at Sebrahn ahead of them, riding contentedly on Hâzadriën’s saddlebow. “Maybe he won’t be so quick to defend Alec anymore, now that he’s found another of his own kind.”
“Don’t let Alec hear you say that. I think he’s heartbroken already.”
Seregil sighed. “Bilairy’s Balls! Why does he have to love the damn thing so much?”
“Wouldn’t you if it had your face?”
“No, I would not!” Seregil whispered.
“Can you love Sebrahn, who has Alec’s face?”
“I wish I could. I care for Sebrahn, but keeping him is simply impossible for so many reasons. Alec knows that as well as I do. He just can’t admit it to himself yet.”
“He’s softer hearted than you.”
“Soft headed, more like it,” Seregil muttered. It wasn’t the best trait in a nightrunner, but Seregil had to admit it was one of the things he admired about Alec. Still, it wasn’t going to make things any easier when they came back with the book and had to face the inevitable.
That night they camped beside a small waterfall. As Alec scavenged for firewood, he noticed that there were handprints carved into the trees here, as there had been at the western end of the trail.
“This must mark the end of Tamír’s Road,” Seregil said.
Alec’s heart sank lower; this meant they were that much closer to parting from Sebrahn. He knew Seregil was right about the risk of taking him, and the thought of Sebrahn being torn apart by another alchemist made him sick.
But what about when we have the book and come back? Of course Seregil would barter Sebrahn for him; Alec even felt the pricking of guilt. He’d had to choose between the two of them once before; he’d chosen Seregil. He believed he would again, but hoped to hell he didn’t have to.
They reached the edge of the forest early the following morning. Rolling foothills fell away to a plain, and Alec could just make out the thin blue line of ocean on the horizon.
“We’ll reach Beggar’s Bridge by tomorrow,” Seregil told them.
“It’s a Tírfaie town?” asked Rieser.
“That’s right.”
“Then my people will go back to the waterfall and make camp there.”
“We’ll be needing our weapons back,” said Seregil.
Nowen and Rieser exchanged a look, and the captain nodded.
Their weapons were returned. Alec smoothed a hand along his bow’s smooth limbs, checking for damage. It was sound, as were the arrows, thank the Light.
Alec stole a glance in Seregil’s direction, looking for any sign that they were going to fight their way out of this or make a break for it. He’d stayed close to Hâzadriën and figured out half a dozen ways to get Sebrahn away from him when the time came.
Instead, Seregil turned in the saddle and offered Rieser his hand.
“Will you keep our bargain now, Bôkthersa?” asked Rieser, ignoring it.
“We will if you will,” Seregil replied.
“The tayan’gil will be kept safe, and my people will be here when we return. I swear it by Aura, and so do they.”
Seregil turned to Alec. “Well?”
It was tempting to refuse. He even thought of letting Seregil and Micum go without him, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that, either.
“Alec?” Seregil gave him an apologetic look.
There didn’t seem to be any way out. Dread settled in the pit of Alec’s stomach. “But if they aren’t here, if Sebrahn is gone, then I’ll kill you, Rieser í Stellen, and I’ll track down the others, too. I swear that by Aura.”
Rieser smiled, almost as if he approved. “I know you would, Alec í Amasa.”
“You should take off your sen’gai here,” Seregil advised. “Aurënen ships often put in at Beggar’s Bridge. Your pattern isn’t one anyone will have seen before. And if you’re caught with it in Plenimar, there’s bound to be trouble.”
The man unwound the long length of blue-and-white cloth and handed it to the woman named Nowen, who carefully tucked it away in her saddlebag.
Seregil gave Alec a look that said clear as words, There’s no help for it, talí. We’ll take this one step at a time.
But there was still the matter of what Sebrahn would do now.
“At least let me say good-bye.” Alec dismounted and went to Hâzadriën’s horse. Sebrahn came willingly into his arms. Alec hugged him close for a moment, his heart like a stone in his chest, then he set the rhekaro on his feet and knelt in front of him.
“I’m leaving, Sebrahn.” His throat went tight and he had to clear it before he could go on. “Seregil and Micum and I, we’re going away for a little while.”
Please, throw a fit. Sing this away!
But Sebrahn just looked up at him with those wide silver eyes. “Leeeeaving.”
“Yes, leaving. You’re staying. Staying? With Hâzadriën.”
Sebrahn looked at him for a moment, then turned and held his arms up to the tall rhekaro.
“It’s time to go,” Seregil said quietly. “Come on.”
Alec’s heart ached as he lifted Sebrahn back up into Hâzadriën’s arms. “Take good care of him.”
The tall rhekaro said nothing, and his expression did not change as he shifted Sebrahn in his lap.
Going back to Windrunner, Alec swung up into the saddle and looped Patch’s lead rein over his pommel. Looking back over his shoulder, Alec saw Hâzadriën and the other ’faie ride off without a backward glance.
Sebrahn did nothing.
And Alec’s heart broke a little more.
Rieser braced for an attack as soon as they were out of sight of the other Ebrados, but his traveling companions appeared to be ready to keep their word, at least for now. If they slipped away from him, he would hunt them down. If they murdered him, Turmay would know and there would be nothing to stop his riders from heading home with the small tayan’gil. Either way, he would have accomplished his mission.
All the same, he couldn’t help noticing how Alec bit his lip and looked away as they went on.
“Sebrahn will be safe. I’ve given you my word.”
Alec spared him a black look and rode to the head of the line.
Seregil admired Rieser as they rode away from his people. The man might not trust them, but he trusted in their honor. It was astonishing, really, and so ill-founded.
“We have a day or two of riding ahead of us,” Seregil told him as they set off down through the foothills toward the coast. “We might as well pass the time pleasantly. Why don’t you tell us about this ‘white road’?”