Langley rode out onto the plain to gather up several lords for a council. As the council prepared to convene, Gaborn gave Myrrima and Borenson a message case to carry to King Zandaros. “Be sure that this gets through,” Gaborn told them. “Algyer col Zandaros would be a powerful ally, and we cannot afford to have him as our foe.”
“It will get through,” Myrrima promised. “And I’ll take good care of Iome, so long as our roads lie together.”
“I know,” Gaborn said. “May the Earth protect you.” He drew close, hugged her to say goodbye. The act surprised her. Though she saw Iome as a friend, Gaborn was still “the King,” and therefore too high above her station for such a show of affection.
Myrrima went to Averan. The little girl’s eyes were glazed. She looked forlorn. Myrrima took her hand, “Little sister. I’m going to Inkarra, and I’ve come to say goodbye.”
“Oh,” Averan said. “That means I’ll never see you again.”
“No,” Myrrima promised. “I’ll be back.”
But Averan shook her head. She said matter-of-factly, “No one comes back from Inkarra, and I’m going to the Underworld.”
Myrrima wanted badly to comfort the girl. “Have faith in yourself and your king. And have faith in me. I’m your big sister now.”
But Averan just shook her head. “Not really.”
She was right. Roland had never petitioned the duke to adopt Averan as far as anyone knew. Averan had never been made Borenson’s sister, and Roland’s promise was left unfulfilled. This girl had no one.
Myrrima’s own father had been taken at an early age. She’d had a mother and sisters to help care for her, and knew how vital their support had been in her life. Averan’s own loss seemed a small matter, easily corrected.
Myrrima turned to Gaborn. “Your Highness, Roland Borenson planned to petition Paldane to become Averan’s guardian. But he died before he could make his plea. I wonder now if you can grant Roland’s petition, my petition, now.”
Gaborn looked to Averan. “Would you want this? Would you take Myrrima as your sister?”
Averan appeared more thoughtful than excited. She nodded.
Gaborn glanced at Sir Borenson. “If I grant this, you become her brother indeed, and her guardian.”
Binnesman cut in. “She’s an Earth Warden. The Earth will clothe and feed her as it sees fit. And you may leave her training to me.”
Myrrima was taken aback by the wizard’s statement. “I’m sure you intend well,” she told Binnesman. “And you might train Averan in the ways of magic. But you’re not used to caring for children. Can you give her the love that she needs? And when she’s hungry, will you feed her, or merely let her grub around for roots and nuts?”
“I’m sure you mean well too,” Binnesman said. “But remember, dear lady, you are the one going to Inkarra. How well will you care for her?”
Myrrima argued, “Our estate in the Drewverry March is large enough to accommodate a child. She could stay with my mother and sisters, when she’s not training.”
Binnesman warned, “Wild birds like cages as much as she’d like a house, I think.”
Gaborn eyed them both. “The child can live in a house and eat at a table and still be an Earth Warden. I see no reason why Roland’s desires should not be granted. But I still haven’t heard from Sir Borenson.”
“My father made that choice already,” Borenson said.
Gaborn said softly, “So be it. Then Averan, I grant you into the care of family Borenson. Even if it be in name only, you have the right to call yourself Roland’s daughter.”
Myrrima nodded, looked at Averan gravely, and said, “Now we are sisters.”
It was a small act of decency, but the words brought tears to Averan’s eyes.
Myrrima hugged Averan and said, “My mother and sisters will be going to Drewverry March.” She took a necklace from around her throat, placed it on Averan. It was a small pendant of a silver fish. “When they see this, I’m sure that they’ll welcome you. It was a gift from my father. Drewverry will be your home, whenever you want.”
Averan hugged Myrrima fiercely, choked out, “Goodbye.”
Then Myrrima shook hands with Binnesman, and even his wylde. In moments she, Borenson, Iome, and Iome’s escorts began packing for the quick ride. Iome would take Gaborn’s forcibles to the Courts of Tide.
Gaborn called a man out of his ranks especially to lead the group, a swarthy fellow with a single black eyebrow who looked as disreputable as his namesake would imply. He was called Grimeson.
But as Grimeson began tying down a tarpaulin over the treasure wagon, he shouted, “We’ve been robbed!”
There was a great commotion as he tore the lid off one crate, threw the empty box to the ground, and began opening each crate in turn.
Several men rushed to the wagon. The guards protested, “But it hasn’t been out of our sight!”
“How well were you watching when the Darkling Glory attacked?” Grimeson asked.
The guards let out a cry of consternation, began shouting, “Search the camp.” There were hundreds of horses tied up and down the creek in small enclaves. Myrrima didn’t know where to begin searching, who to look for.
Gaborn closed his eyes, seeking inward. “Don’t bother. The thief is gone. Feykaald is riding to Indhopal.”
Borenson said, “He has less than an hour on us. We can catch him!”
The old Wit Jerimas urged Gaborn, “Milord, you must retrieve those forcibles. Make no mistake. If Raj Ahten learns that you still have so many, he will come after them.”
But to Myrrima’s surprise, Gaborn shook his head. “No. I feel a pall settling over Raj Ahten. There is trouble in Kartish. Surely the children of Indhopal need those forcibles as much as we do.”
Myrrima thought that someone would speak out against the notion.
Knights Equitable and lords from half a dozen lands stood within hearing. But no one spoke against Gaborn.
For days he had been saying it: all of the world’s people were Gaborn’s charge. Perhaps now they had begun to believe.
So Myrrima, Borenson, and Iome’s retinue mounted up. They waited for Iome.
She and her king walked together and stood under an oak by the brook, talking for a long while. Myrrima saw tears stream down the queen’s face. They were far enough away that no one could hear what they said, but Myrrima could imagine.
Iome was leaving Gaborn. He would go to the Underworld to hunt for the One True Master. Iome feared for him even as she held him. When at last she was able to tear herself away, Iome got on her mount and spoke not at all.
Force horses pulled the treasure wagon so fast that it sang over the highways. They raced southeast through grasslands, following the river Donnestgree as it surged toward the ocean and the Courts of Tide.
Few villages dotted the plains. Myrrima asked Borenson why. He pointed out that the driving winds would not allow many trees, and the soil here blanketed a thick crust of volcanic stone. Without wood for fuel, few people wanted to settle here, though the land was bountiful enough for wild cattle.
But people had lived here once. She saw the remains of castles on many a lonely hill. Borenson pointed out the site for the Battle of the Five Wizards, and halted once to show her bones of a giant encased in a rock by the wayside. She saw the very tower where Leandra had pushed her mother to her death upon hearing that Andreas was no more.
Near the old altar at Rimmondy they scared a flock of young wild graaks up from the carcasses of some cattle that had been chased over a cliff.
In the late afternoon they reached a crossroads two hundred miles southeast of Carris where silver birches bent over a still river, their leaves perfectly mirrored in the waters.
To the south lay the road that Myrrima and Borenson would take, while Iome headed northeast. They stopped to let the force horses graze and drink.