‘It’s T’riss,’ Sour’s voice whispered in Murk’s ear.
Murk raised his gaze. The Azathanai was peering beyond him, a playful smile at her lips. ‘Greetings, Sour. You are well informed. As I would expect.’
‘And the other?’ Murk enquired slowly, ‘if I may ask?’
‘She has withdrawn. Released all that she ought to have released ages ago. And who knows, perhaps she will learn to accept all she ought to have accepted all these ages. She no longer manifests a presence directly here in the mundane. As for the future,’ she gave a small shrug, ‘who can say?’
‘A goddess in truth,’ Murk murmured.
‘Precisely. Together with all that comes with it — desired or not.’
‘And yourself?’ Murk asked, emboldened enough to lift a brow.
The woman’s smile broadened and she spread her arms. ‘Myself? I am merely an Enchantress. Nothing more. Now,’ she waved them off, ‘go get your superiors. I will speak with them.’
A small contingent was brought together. K’azz selected his lieutenant, Shimmer, together with two mages, Gwynn and Lor. Yusen brought Burastan, Murk and Sour. The girl came as well, accompanied by the swordswoman whom she clung to and wouldn’t be parted from.
The party made its way across the grounds of Jakal Viharn. A fine white ash dusted everything like snow. It fell as a thin drifting sleet. The utter silence was almost a shock to Murk. Even their footsteps were smothered. It was as if they walked in another world, he imagined.
T’riss, if indeed it was she, awaited them as before. Murk noted that upon seeing the big man, Nagal, K’azz and party paused in recognition. He came to them before they reached the Enchantress.
‘Nagal,’ K’azz greeted him. ‘I am sorry about Rutana.’
The giant nodded, frowning. He gazed down at his wide hands, clenched as if yet ready to grasp some foe. ‘Even after what he did she still would not allow me …’ His voice thickened until he could not continue and he lowered his head even further. ‘I was so angered. I ran …’
‘I’m sorry.’
The man nodded and walked away, his head lowered as he examined his knotted hands. K’azz turned to the Enchantress, who urged everyone forward. The girl ran ahead only to come to an abrupt halt as if shocked or uncertain. The Enchantress rose and embraced her. ‘We will speak later, Lek. We have much to catch up.’ She raised her gaze to the swordswoman. ‘You too, Ina. After this.’
The swordswoman, Ina, nodded, and wrapped her one arm around the girl to lead her away. They walked a distance and sat together on the tumbled blocks of a fallen wall.
Murk watched them go feeling an ache in his own chest. Both wounded. Doesn’t it make sense they should seek each other out? The girl’s vulnerability made him think of Celeste. Gone now, as well. He hoped she was not unhappy with her choice.
‘Captain Yusen,’ the Enchantress began sharply. ‘I understand you have a request of me.’
‘I do. We request transport out of Jacuruku.’
T’riss waved an assent. ‘I will send you anywhere you wish to go. No doubt you will want time to discuss this with your troops.’
‘Of course. Our thanks.’ He gestured for Burastan and Murk and Sour to move off.
‘Before you go, however,’ the Enchantress continued, ‘I possess some information that might bear upon your choice.’
Yusen turned back, his gaze tightening. ‘Yes?’
‘In Aren, Seven Cities. Since the killing of the Fist last year, there has been an investigation. It seems that his plans to usurp imperial authority have been uncovered, together with his murder of several officers who would not cooperate. His death diverted civil unrest that would have cost the lives of thousands. I believe the price upon the head of his killer, together with his fugitive followers, has been rescinded.’
Yusen remained utterly still. His gaze shifted to Burastan, whose eyes had grown huge. ‘We will need time to discuss this,’ he managed, his voice thick.
‘Of course.’
Yusen and Burastan bowed and walked away. Murk watched them go. What do you know? I would never have guessed. But I did wonder. Sour and I sniffed something there.
The Enchantress turned to K’azz and after their gazes met for a moment Murk was surprised to see that it was she who lowered her eyes. After a long silence, she spoke down to her hands clasped on her lap: ‘Do not ask that of me.’
‘Then where, Enchantress?’ The man’s voice was brittle with suppressed emotion. ‘Where must I go for my answer?’
‘There is only one place left.’ She spoke very slowly, as if reconsidering. ‘But there is great danger. Not just to you …’
‘I am asking for knowledge, Enchantress. Surely you would not be one to withhold that?’
Her answering smile was cold. Yet she tilted her head, granting the point. ‘Very well. In only one place can you find your answers, K’azz … Assail. Only there.’
The mercenary commander received the news as if he’d been half expecting it. He nodded to himself as she spoke. ‘My thanks, Enchantress.’
‘Let us hope your thanks do not turn to curses.’
‘Yes.’
‘I also offer you transport back to Stratem.’
‘That would be most welcome,’ the mercenary commander answered, sounding very relieved.
‘I am sure.’
He bowed, as did his lieutenant, Shimmer, and the mages. The Enchantress turned to Murk and Sour. ‘Now … what can I do for you two?’
‘As I said,’ Murk answered, clearing his throat. ‘I seek no gift.’
‘Yes. However,’ and she rose to lean close to him, ‘I can offer you this.’ And she brushed his cheek with her lips. Murk’s knees went numb and he staggered, utterly shocked.
To his stunned puzzlement she said: ‘That was for how you handled a very delicate relationship. I offer it in her place. Well done, Murken Warrow.’
Murk found himself walking off, a hand at his cheek, hardly aware of his surroundings. Well, damn, maybe he should take up worship of the Queen of Dreams. From this day forward she might just be the queen of his dreams anyway.
He must have been standing staring into the distance for some time when someone cleared her throat next to him. He started, blinking, and looked over. It was Burastan.
‘She has that effect, doesn’t she?’ she said.
Murk rubbed his cheek. ‘Yeah. She sure does.’
‘C’mon. We’re debating where to go. I’m all for returning straight to Aren. Yusen says no. He suggests some frontier town in Genabackis. Feel out the situation. What do you say?’
‘Did he really kill the Fist of Aren?’
‘Yeah. Stabbed him right over his briefing table. I did for his aides.’
‘He was planning to declare himself ruler of Seven Cities?’
Her jaws worked as she chewed that. ‘What he intended would have reopened old wounds. Terrible old wounds. It would have been a bloodbath. Yusen cut it off at the root. We wouldn’t abandon him so he chose to run — exile.’
‘I see. But now the Enchantress says you can return.’
‘Yes! And so we should! C’mon, talk some sense into the man. You’re good at that.’
Murk eyed the tall fierce woman sidelong. I am? Since when?
*
Ina had wanted to die, of course. That moment when she woke and saw what they had done. She felt no resentment against the mage, or the Enchantress — she understood they had done what they did to save her life. But would she have done the same? She’d heard it was one of the worst ways to go. Eaten alive from the inside out. She would’ve killed herself long before that.
At home there were places for the wounded. Honoured roles for those crippled in fighting: teacher, tutor, guard. Her wound was not gained in such a respectable fashion. Illness, sickness, had no place in her society. The weak were cast out, allowed to perish as they would. She had never given the practice a second thought. It was tradition. The way their forebears taught them. Now, however, she wondered at its fairness. Were the sick or malformed or maimed to be blamed for their affliction? Was it less ‘purification’ than plain intolerance?