‹ There’s no need to do anything of the sort.› Walsharno flipped his ears in the courser equivalent of a shrug when Bahzell and Hathan looked at him. ‹ We’ll just suggest to Dathgar that it would be better for Tellian to rest for another day or two-and, of course, that we don’t want anyone telling Tellian that, given how stubborn he is. And then we’ll suggest exactly the same thing to Tellian about Dathgar.› He flipped his ears again. ‹ They’ll both jump for it the same way Gayrhalan jumps for sugar.›
“Sure, and a sad thing it is to see such deceitfulness so early in the morning,” Bahzell sighed.
‹ Oh?› Walsharno cocked his head, examining his wind brother with one skeptical eye. ‹ And do you have a better idea?›
“That I don’t,” the hradani conceded cheerfully. “And it’s no quarrel I have with deceitfulness so long as it’s after working, when all’s said.”
“From your lips to Tomanak’s ears,” Hathan said feelingly. “And if convincing the two of them to go easy on each other doesn’t work, we can always add Tarith. For that matter, I’m pretty sure we could convince him to hobble around for a day or two-with a properly stoic expression, you understand-to convince Tellian he needs the rest!”
“No doubt,” Bahzell agreed.
“Good.”
Hathan reached up to rub Gayrhalan’s nose again for several seconds, then looked back at Bahzell and Walsharno, and his expression was far more serious than it had been.
“Things were a bit hectic yesterday,” he said. “I’m not sure I got around to thanking the two of you for saving Tellian’s and Dathgar’s lives. If I didn’t, I should have.” His eyes darkened with emotion. “I knew they were both gone, and all I could think of was telling Hanatha. I think it would have killed her, too, you know.”
“I’m thinking she’s a stronger woman than that,” Bahzell disagreed. “Still and all, it’s happier I am we’ve no need to find out one way or the other.”
“The gods know I agree with you there!” Hathan said. “When you pulled those arrows out of his chest, Bahzell…I was afraid you were going to finish him off on the spot!” He shook his head. “Of course, I knew even then that we were going to lose him anyway if you couldn’t heal him, but still-!”
“I’ll not deny it gave me a twinge or two,” Bahzell admitted. “Yet I couldn’t be leaving them where they were, and there was no time at all, at all, for being gentle about it.”
“No, and I knew it at the time. For that matter, I had to do the same thing with Dathgar!”
‹ And a good thing he did, too, › Walsharno said, looking at Gayrhalan. ‹ Tell him he was my hands, Gayrhalan. Without him, we’d have lost Dathgar for certain.›
Hathan cocked his head as he listened to the other courser relaying that to him. Then he nodded to Walsharno with a courteous formality.
“It was my honor,” he said quietly. “But we were all lucky to have the two of you and Vaijon along! Toragan only knows how many we would’ve lost without you.” His mouth tightened. “For that matter, it was bad enough with all the three of you could do.”
“That it was.”
Bahzell’s ears flattened and his eyes darkened. Not even a champion of Tomanak could recall someone who’d already crossed the wall between life and death, and seven of Tellian’s armsmen had made that journey before he or Vaijon could summon them back. Walsharno had helped with that effort as much as he could, but one thing he and Bahzell had learned over the years since he’d become the very first courser champion of Tomanak was that there were differences in their healing abilities.
Bahzell wasn’t entirely certain why that was so, but they’d discovered that Walsharno’s ability to heal coursers or horses was far stronger than Bahzell’s…and that Bahzell ’s ability to heal the Races of Man was greater than Walsharno’s. They’d discussed the difference often, and they’d come to the conclusion that the difference lay in who-and what-they were. The degree to which any champion of Tomanak could succeed in a healing depended in large part upon how completely and deeply he could visualize his patient’s restoration…and how deeply into that patient’s soul and innermost being he could reach. Coursers and the Races of Man were simply different from one another in some deep and fundamental ways, and that affected how deeply and intimately they could fuse with those they sought to heal, become the essential bridge between the hurt and dying and Tomanak.
Whatever the reason, Walsharno was plainly better than Bazell at healing coursers or their smaller equine cousins while Bahzell was better at healing fellow hradani and humans. That was why Bahzell had concentrated on saving Tellian and entrusted Dathgar to Walsharno. It was also why Walsharno had lent his strength to Bahzell and Vaijon, putting all his driving will behind them as they’d plucked as many of the wounded back from death as they could. They’d done all any man could do, and without Walsharno’s aid they would have lost still more of them. Bahzell and his wind brother both knew that, and so did Vaijon, yet the hradani also knew it would be a long time before any of them fully forgave themselves for having lost so many.
‹ Don’t be silly,› a deep, rumbling voice said in the back of his brain. ‹ You did well-all of you. But there are limits to what even my Swords can accomplish.›
And I’d’ve done still better if I’d spent less time making bad jokes and more seeing what it was the lot of us were riding into, Bahzell thought grimly.
‹ Or if I’d taken you by the hand and warned you about it. Or if Tellian had been wearing armor the way he ought to have been. Or if it had been raining, instead of sunny, and their bow strings had stretched in the wet. Or if an earthquake had swallowed them up or they’d been nibbled to death by tree frogs.› The voice of Tomanak Orfro took on a decidedly testy edge, and Bahzell had a mental image of his deity standing there with his hands on his hips and a stern light in his eyes. ‹ Oh, and while we’re on the subject of “if,” if Walsharno had been able to maneuver under those trees and if the both of you had had wings. Have I left anything out? Or do the two of you have something else to feel guilty about?›
Bahzell started to reply, then stopped himself.
‹ Better,› Tomanak snorted in the spaces of his mind, and the god’s voice turned a bit gentler, though its edge didn’t disappear entirely. ‹ Done is done, my Sword. All I’ve ever asked of you is that you do your best-which you always have-and not even I can undo the past. You know why that is, and I think you might bear that in mind when you consider your own actions and their consequences. I have nothing against remorse when it’s merited, Bahzell, but there’s something a little childish about blaming yourself for being merely mortal, and that’s what you’re doing when you go borrowing guilt for things not even a god can change.›
Bahzell felt a twinge of resentment at being called “childish,” but it disappeared as quickly as it had come. After all, Tomanak was the God of Truth. Which was undoubtedly the very reason the word had stung.
I’ll try to be bearing that in mind, he thought a bit tartly. In the meantime, though, would it be as how you’ve any more to be telling us?
‹ No,› Tomanak replied. ‹ Too many threads are flowing together here, with far too many possible outcomes. Even if I were tempted to give you more detail, it would be too likely to simply confuse the issue for you-possibly even make you hesitate at a critical moment. I can tell you this, though: you were right about Tellian’s cough. I know you never found who was poisoning him, Bahzell, but that’s because you couldn’t look in the right place.›
Bahzell frowned for a moment. Then his eyes widened, and he sensed Tomanak’s nod.
‹ That was the first sign that the Dark Gods have decided to take an active hand again, › he confirmed. ‹ And if the truth be known, Carnadosa’s a much shrewder adversary than Sharna or Krahana, and far closer to sane than Shigu’s ever been. Nor is she so arrogant as to confront us without careful planning and all the support she can muster. Watch yourselves, Bahzell, Walsharno. You can’t begin to reckon how dearly Phrobus and all his children would love to see the two of you dead.›