". . . and so in five months more I am to yield D'Arnath's throne."
D'Arnath's daughter . . . enchanted for a thousand years. How can so many believe such a fantastic tale ? Karon's comments sounded clear and sharp in my head.
"She makes no attempt to explain the mystery herself," said Je'Reint. "We subjected her to every test we could devise. The Archivists quizzed her on everything known of D'Arnath's time, but her only 'errors' were to correct perceptions that had never made sense. Our picture of D'Arnath's reign has been clarified immeasurably."
Ven'Dar sighed and settled his chin on his folded hands, far less excited than his heir—his former heir, now. "Ce'Aret gave her the most stringent tests of truth-saying and was entirely satisfied. As Je'Reint, her own grandson, stood to be set aside, one cannot say she was too easy on the woman. We even drew old Ustele from his moldy hermitage long enough to examine her, believing that if anyone could unravel her story, the old skeptic would do it. By the end of it, he was weeping and kneeling at her feet. When the Preceptors voted to vest her, placing her in the direct line of succession, not one dissented. I begged them to delay the anointing a while longer, but in truth, the people would not have stood for it. They are so hungry to put the last thousand years behind them. D'Arnath's name works a magic in the spirit that my best efforts cannot match."
What was written of D'Arnath's children? I recall only sons.
Je'Reint jumped in again. "Very few histories survive from D'Arnath's day—books were a particular casualty of the early years of the war. The most reliable source mentions a single daughter, lost in the war when she was seventeen. We've no record of her name. But D'Sanya led us to a ruined house long buried in the Vale of Maroth—her mother's house, indisputably. She showed us the mark of Garafiel, the most famous swordmaker in Dar'Nethi history, on D'Arnath's sword and claimed that Garafiel was in love with her mother long before she was betrothed to D'Arnath, but they were forbidden to marry because they were cousins. We had never noticed the—"
"By Vasrin Shaper's hand, she showed us how the vines engraved on the sword's hilt hid the letters of her mother's name!" Ven'Dar's outburst silenced Je'Reint. "The Archivists traced Garafiel's lineage and Maroth's, and the kinship was true as D'Sanya had said, though we'd never known it."
Ven'Dar's emotion hung in the air for a few moments, until our silence allowed it to disperse and vanish like smoke in a breeze.
Gerick, did you ever hear of—?
"No." Gerick jerked his head in sharp denial before Karon could finish his thought.
Well then, what of her power?
Ven'Dar sighed and rubbed his brow. "We've seen nothing like it in living memory. She has healed hundreds of Zhid prisoners with her touch. In less than half a year, she has reforested the Vale of Grithna, dead since the early years of the war. The caress of her hand on its soil gave the land such vigor that in a single day the grass was knee-high, the flowers abloom, and saplings two fingers thick stood taller than a man. She lends her power to Builders and Gardeners and Healers, unraveling enchantments and spell traps laid by the Zhid, soothing nightmares and diseases of war victims."
And still Karon continued probing. Yet you do not believe .
"I cannot" —Ven'Dar shook his head, tightening his lips and squeezing his tired eyes—"and yet I cannot explain precisely why. Everywhere I hear whispers saying, 'Ven'Dar was a fine shepherd, but we have anointed the true Heir of D'Arnath. She should take her father's place.' Ah, my good friend, after her first visit to the Bridge she walked into a palace courtyard weeping, and her tears revived a spring that had been dry since D'Arnath's death. What could it be but my own selfish pride that prevents my belief?" He threw his hands in the air, jumped up from his stool, and paced the length of the chamber three times, like a clock spring unwinding. "My own doubts betray me. The Bridge— To cross these past two days—my first crossings since they anointed her— has been extraordinarily difficult, as if I were a minnow swimming against a torrent, as if my heart knows I don't belong there any more."
There must be something. You have never been driven by pride or greed. Think. Then tell me one thing that makes you doubt.
Ven'Dar folded his arms, closed his eyes, and held still for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was calmer, uncertainty banished. "She has built herself a great house in Grithna Vale, and in the last two months she has begun to take in people the Healers have judged too ill to benefit from their gift."
Those like me.
"Yes." The prince stepped to the bedside. "A hospice she calls it. Lady D'Sanya uses her power to ease their suffering—suspend their death, as it were. Those who were bound to their beds are no longer; those whose eyes or heart or limbs were failing now have use of them. As long as they do not leave the confines of the hospice, they are as they were before they were stricken . . . except for their talents. They cannot pursue sorcery of any kind. But they feel no pain and do not die. Even after so short a time, public opinion considers those who suggest this result is not a blessing to be, at the least, foolish and self-deceiving. I don't know what's come over them all."
A seductive . . . most seductive outcome . . .
Ven'Dar wandered across the room to the wide windows and back again. "Je'Reint and I have gone over this a hundred times. Dar'Nethi have viewed death as a passage to be accomplished in peace and care when the Way leads us to it, not some fearful event to be avoided at the cost of our innermost being. I have spent my life teaching that the source of our power is accepting whatever joys and sorrows life grants us and viewing them in the larger perspective of the universe. To admit that this woman is D'Arnath's daughter and this hospice a reflection of his philosophy that we have called our Way is to give up my foundation. I cannot do it. Not until I'm sure."
Though he spoke to all of us, Ven'Dar's gaze settled on Gerick, who sat with his chin propped on his clenched fists and his eyes on the floor. "And she has come out of Zhev'Na. How can I trust her? I came to you yesterday to ask if you would meet with her . . . read her . . . and tell me where I'm wrong."
I hear more urgency in you than these events can explain. You've five months before a final decision must be made. You say the woman herself does not push for you to yield, and even the people see how she needs time to be ready for such responsibility. Why the hurry?
Ven'Dar sighed and looked down at Karon with sorrow and affection. "You leave me no choice but to burden you with everything?"
You may have service of all the resources I can muster at present —the paltry few .
Ven'Dar's rueful smile unfolded like a moth's wings, and he returned to the bed, perching on the stool once again. "Despite all, I'm happy you're here, my friend. It is a considerable relief to share all this with you. Can you forgive me?"
Tell me.
"We never knew how many Zhid the Lords controlled. We captured or killed a great number in the year following the Lords' death. Though leaderless and directionless, they couldn't stop fighting. Over the next two years, Zhid renegades drifted in one by one from the Wastes, often starving, weak from lack of power. Still vicious, though. Some of them claimed that thousands more were holed up in the northern mountains. But our Finders could locate no such colonies, so we dismissed their claims.
"In the fourth year, the trickle stopped. Not one more Zhid in the months after. We've kept searching with no result. But half a league from the place the Lady walked out of the desert, we found two dead men—armed and accoutered as Zhid. The evidence of her weapon and the blood on her tunic indicate she was in a fight, though she claims to remember nothing of her desert madness. Then, a few months ago, traders made a regular run to a Tree Delvers' village in the north, a former Drudge work camp that had grown and prospered. It appeared that every resident of the village had got up in the middle of the evening meal and vanished. Some signs of a fight, but no people, either alive or dead. We've seen at least three similar incidents in the past months. In short, I'm afraid we find ourselves facing a new enemy or the revival of an old one."