They’d had no help from a Royal Physician, who had been rousted from some hidey-hole to do little more than tell them all the things he didn’t know and make contradictory guesses. Amid suggestions to keep Avahn warm and keep him cool, and cup him and dose him with purgatives, all they could do was keep him clean and pray.
Were weaker seizures a good or bad sign? Medair tried to decide, anxiously watching Ileaha watching Avahn. It was easier to see her as Ileaha now that the change in colouring was not so new. She had almost the same face, even if the height was all wrong, and that hair. Her attention never drifted for an instant, as if she were intent on capturing every moment of Avahn’s ordeal. Every moment of–
That train of thought was interrupted by the door opening, and Cor-Ibis, followed by Kel ar Haedrin, entered. He crossed to Avahn who, after only a few decems, seemed to have already lost weight. Cor-Ibis' face became particularly blank as he studied his heir, whose colour was a sickly greenish-white shade that made him look like he was decaying inside his own skin.
"Kel ar Haedrin will watch over Avahn now."
Despite Ileaha’s obvious reluctance, he led them to a room where the rest of the Palladians waited to sit down to a meal delivered by Decian servants who made little effort to conceal stony animosity.
"Hold," he said when they were alone, and quietly cast. Poison detect, which made every sort of sense. Queen Sendel might have declared them guests, but no Queen had the power to order her people to forgive and forget a field of blood. He followed it with a second casting, one which brought a hush which reminded Medair of the muffling effect of the mist. Something to prevent eavesdropping.
"Queen Sendel has accepted a geas," he said, nodding to give them permission to eat. "That in no way binds the rest of Decia, so we will continue to take as many precautions as is feasible. I have recovered the rahlstone which was in Avahn’s custody, and tomorrow morning when we are both rested, the Kierash and I will attempt to construct a gate to Athere. All will return but Kel ar Haedrin and myself." He added a glance at Islantar which was an order, absolute no matter what their ranks. "I cannot move from Falcon Black until we are certain that the device used to create the gates – for Queen Sendel has confirmed the existence of a device – is not here, and that any information King Xarus may have collected regarding the summoning of wild magic is destroyed."
"A wend-whisper from my – the Kier – reached me during the afternoon," the Kierash put in. "Sent shortly after our disappearance. Others may arrive with further information, particularly if the gate-caster was discovered outside Athere’s walls."
"We will use the rooms alongside Avahn’s," Cor-Ibis continued. "The entrance to that corridor can be effectively guarded, and the kaschens and Kel ar Haedrin will mark shifts overnight."
"I can help with that," the Mersian Herald offered. "My skill with the sword is only moderate, but I will at least serve as a second pair of eyes."
Medair ate with a sense of unreality, listening to Cor-Ibis answering a handful of questions from Islantar regarding the search of the castle. She could not argue with the basic sense of his plan, but wanted to. To leave him here! But he was right, absolutely right, that the gate device needed to be found. Not only so it could not again be used against Athere, but because the question of how it had been created needed to be settled. And Medair had to go, for though they had taken some small precautions against making clear her identity to the majority of Falcon Black’s occupants, she knew it would be as great an act of stupidity for her to stay as it would be for Islantar.
When the meal was over, Ileaha joined Kel ar Haedrin caring for Avahn. The doors of all the rooms along the corridor were standing open and, aware that Cor-Ibis was dividing his attention between her and Islantar, Medair walked randomly through one and closed it behind her, to sit blankly and try to force herself to think.
Her role had run its course. She no longer had the Horn. She no longer had the secret of her past, and no-one would think of rallying around her name. Herald no longer. But she did not want to die. So it became a matter of choosing how to live.
Outside, doors closed. After a long pause she could hear Cor-Ibis talking to the Mersian Herald and the first of the kaschen who was to guard the corridor leading to their rooms. A long night for them on top of a tense day, but there was no-one else to trust. Medair listened to one last door close, and then she stood by her window remembering a soft voice say: "Please, Medair."
He had made his position very clear. And she could hardly deny that she wanted to be with him. She was past any self-delusion on that front. But wanting him and making a life with him did not follow in easy progression and she was not cruel enough to go to him now unless she had conquered these interminable doubts. He didn’t deserve to have her taking temporary solace from him.
And she was undoubtedly the coward Ieskar had named her, because what held her back now was not any belief that she was still bound by vows to the past, but what others would think of her. Awful as using the Horn had been, she still did not see how she could have done anything except support Palladium over Decia. But though she did not believe that decision was pinned to her feelings for one particular Palladian, there would be all too many who would never accept any other explanation.
Her old pride hated the idea. Medair an Rynstar turning her back on the true Corminevar bloodline because she wanted to spread her legs for a White Snake. Seduced by the enemy. She was already so detested, so loathed, and doubted she was equal to standing before people like Thessan Estarion as they embroidered their hatred for her with such an ugly embellishment. There was no way to make them see that what she felt for Cor-Ibis truly was separate from her decision about the Horn of Farak.
And some part of her must believe it to be true, for she was still so frantically trying to draw back from him that she continued to think of him as Cor-Ibis. He was Illukar. He had held out his hand and she longed to take it and did not. What reason was there? Only this need to wallow in guilt, and cling to an image of honour unsullied by failure. Not wanting to die, but not able to move beyond the past. Caring what people like Thessan Estarion would think was pointless and craven and she could not help it. Proud little Herald, putting on a show for the crowd. Former Herald, false hero, counterfeit legend.
Nor could Medair deny that, quite aside from anyone else’s opinion, it still mattered to her that he was Ibisian. He was a White Snake.
Deep down, she knew his greatest fault was that he was too like Ieskar for her to ever be quite comfortable wanting him. "You do not like to face certain truths," Ieskar had said, standing dead in the Hall of Mourning. He’d made her take his hand, and told her she had no reason to hate the people of this time, and it was a thing she knew in her head was true and in her heart was at least mostly true. The war was long over and Ibisians weren’t the enemy any more. She closed her eyes and pictured her hand against Ieskar’s, and his eternally calm voice telling her that what she felt was hate.
It was a line of thought she simply could not pursue, and she consoled herself with the fact that Ieskar had never smiled as Illukar did. And she was still standing here by the window.
Had she let desire influence her decisions? Would she have given the Horn of Farak to Ibisians if Illukar las Cor-Ibis had been something other than everything she admired? Because if it was true, then she already had cause to be ashamed and it did not matter if no other person ever knew that she loved a White Snake, for she knew herself. And if her decision to give up the Horn was not tainted, because the Palladian Ibisians were not accountable for the past, then how could loving a Palladian Ibisian be any less free from taint?