Leeana swallowed, and Isvaria touched her face once more.
“You’re fit to carry that burden, Leeana, whether you realize it or not…and you will. In every universe, in every time, when the moment arrives, you will. And if the Dark triumphs, it will never be because you failed the Light in that moment of need. But I tell you this, as well-if the Light triumphs in this universe of yours, it will triumph through you and Bahzell.”
Leeana’s eyes went huge, and the fingers touching her face cupped her cheek gently.
“Power and possibilities, outcomes and events, swirl so thickly about you that even a goddess can see only dimly. And we can take advantage of that dimness, we deities, and…manipulate it so that our enemies are even blinder than we. Not always, not in all places. We must choose our times, pick those events where it becomes most crucial for our enemies to guess rather than to know. Your life, and Bahzell’s, are one of those times. We can’t tell you what will happen, or even what you must do, because by the very act of telling you we would affect the outcome. But in every future I see, you come to me, Leeana. And you, Gayrfressa. You come to my table, in all your thousands of choices, and I welcome you. You come through pain, and you come through sorrow, and you come through loss, and you do not always come in triumph. But you come to me unbroken and as you are now, upon your feet and never your knees, and the light of you shines, my daughters.”
Leeana stared into the eyes of the Goddess of Death, and those eyes touched something inside her. There was a…flicker. A dancing current or a flaring candle flame. She couldn’t put a name to the sensation, not really, yet she knew it would always be there. She might lose it, from time to time, and it would be no armor against fear, uncertainty, doubt…but it would always return to her, as well, and under that fear and uncertainty and doubt there would be this assurance, this promise, from the power to which all life returned in the fullness of time.
“I know it’s a heavy weight to bear,” Isvaria told her, “but you’re fit to bear it, both of you, and love will take you to places the Dark can never come. I do not name you my champions, but I do name you the daughters I’ve called you- my daughters. Whether you come to me early, or you come to me late, I will be waiting for you, and I will gather you as my own.”
Leeana stood gazing into those eyes, feeling the iron fidelity of that promise, for an eternity. It lasted forever…and took no longer than the flicker between the beats of a hummingbird’s wings.
And then the pine woods were empty once again, except for her and Gayrfressa.
She blinked, shaking her head, feeling as if she were awakening from a dream and yet with every memory perfectly formed, and felt Gayrfressa’s matching bemusement. Perhaps it had been only a dream, she thought, but then she felt something in her hand and looked down.
It was a sprig of periwinkle, its stem wrought of silver, its tiny flowers exquisitely formed in chips of sapphire. Periwinkle, the flower of memory…and of Isvaria Orfressa, the keeper of that memory.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“So you think I should actually listen to this fool?” Arthnar Sabrehand, Fire Oar and Fleet Captain of the River Brigands, demanded.
He took another long pull from his battered tankard, adam’s apple bobbing, then smacked the tankard down on the expensive, exquisitely inlaid table-a piece of Saramanthan work worth more than most men would ever see in a lifetime which had somehow failed to make it across the Lake of Storms to its intended Sothoii purchaser some years earlier. It had been hard used over those years, but its pedigree still showed through all the casual scratches, gouges and chips, like an old and weary soldier not yet ready to quit despite wounds and too many harsh campaigns. A fresh spill of ale dribbled down the tankard’s side to make yet another ring on the tabletop, another stain on the soldier’s shield, and the Fire Oar glowered across it at the man he knew as Talthar.
“ I haven’t seen any evidence the man can find his arse with both hands!” The River Brigand chieftain belched and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “So far, Tellian and that bastard Bahnak-oh, and let’s not forget Bahzell — have pinned his ears back every time he’s crossed swords with them. And don’t even get me started on the frigging dwarf!”
Arthnar’s table manners might leave a little to be desired, Varnaythus reflected, and his shaggy mane of oily black hair and the bushy beard that went with it were an accurate hint that he wasn’t the sort of fellow you’d care to invite home as a house guest. Not unless you wanted to see your house burned to the ground, at any rate. But he did have a way of coming straight to the point. Which was probably only to be expected of the man who’d cut his way to the office of Fleet Captain, Fire Oar of the River Brigands, almost twenty years ago…and stayed on the Captain’s Thwart ever since. Becoming Fleet Captain and winning the title of Fire Oar hadn’t necessarily required much in the way of brains-ruthlessness, a ready sword, a naturally devious nature, and the ability to buy support with promises of plunder had been more than enough for that. Staying Fleet Captain, though…that took some doing.
And for all his contempt for Cassan, it’s largely his…understanding with him that’s allowed Arthnar to stay in his position, the wizard reflected. He’s actually managed to convince his council of captains that it makes more sense to charge tolls on traffic crossing the Lake of Storms than it does to raid. Cassan doesn’t care; he simply passes the cost of the toll-it would never do to call it “tribute,” after all-along to his customers and blames it on the Purple Lords and the threat of the River Brigands without ever mentioning that he’s actually paying them off. And Arthnar’s even managed to negotiate a subsidy from the Purple Lords for letting their trade pass unhindered, as well!
Of course, what neither Cassan nor the Purple Lords (nor the majority of Arthnar’s own followers) knew was that a little discreet help from Sharna, the dog brothers, and Carnadosa-in the person of one Master Varnaythus, although Arthnar knew him as Talthar Sheafbearer-had also played their part in the Fleet Captain’s successful longevity. Unfortunately, no one could ever accuse Arthnar of an excess of piety. He was perfectly prepared to work with the Dark Gods, but it was purely business as far as he was concerned, and he’d been more careful than most about staying out of their clutches. He was willing to use them, but he never forgot for one moment that they hadn’t been so happy to help him over the years out of the goodness of their hearts. He was ready enough to help them achieve their goals as long as that helped him achieve his, yet that didn’t mean he was stupid enough to trust them, and he was adamantly opposed to allowing himself to simply be used by them.
But even the wiliest fish ends up in the boat eventually, if the hook’s been properly set, Varnaythus reminded himself. If he has no objection to using Them, then They certainly have no objection to using him. And nothing They’ve said to me suggests They’re especially concerned about whether or not this particular fish survives in the process.
Given the man’s personality, Varnaythus was privately rooting for “not,” although it would never do to suggest anything of the sort to Arthnar, of course.
“I think whether or not you should listen to him depends entirely on how happy you’ll be to see Kilthandahknarthas sailing cheerfully by your ports on the Lake of Storms and Bahnak of Hurgrum and Tellian of Balthar maintaining patrols all the way down the Hangnysti to the lake,” he said after a moment, and shrugged. “Somehow I think Tellian and Kilthan are going to be less than willing to maintain the sort of…relationship you’ve had with Cassan. House Harkanath has hired entire armies in its time to deal with bandits, and I rather doubt Kilthan’s going to regard you and your fellow captains as anything other than bandits who happen to float to work. I suppose you might be able to count on increasing your subsidy from the Purple Lords as long as they think they could use you to bottleneck the Axemen’s trade down the Spear from the lake, but how long will they realistically be able to do that before Bahnak and Tellian burn Krelik and Palan to the ground?”