“Yes,” said Zanna belligerently. “Why, does that make a difference?”
The chief frowned. “Not to me, but sadly, I must ask you to forget your former friends—especially if you are speaking to anyone outside this community.” He leaned forward earnestly. “It is different with us—for many years now we have traded successfully with the Nightrunners, and friendship has grown between our folk.” He looked at Zanna and Tarnal. “Your people will stay with us, and become part of our settlement. You have skills, such as your shipbuilding, that would benefit us greatly.”
“Are you saying it could make trouble for us if it were widely known that we were friends with Aurian and the others?” Tarnal demanded. “Why?”
“Please—do not blame me too harshly, and do not let this affair deprive your folk of the sanctuary that they so badly heed. Your friends are under a sentence of death, Tarnal, if they ever return here. For many seasons now, a watch has been kept throughout the Xandim lands for your companions. I have the strictest orders concerning the Mage and the others, as does every chief of every settlement along the coast. If they are found in the Xandim lands they must be taken to the Fastness, and from there they will go to the mountain of the Blind God.” He sighed. “I cannot say for certain—the decision will rest with the will, or the whim, of the god. I fear, however, that they will be sacrificed.”
A lone Xandim herdsman, encamped by his fire on the broad, wind-scoured plains, looked up and saw a cluster of dark dots pass across the face of the moon, flying very high and fast. He frowned. What in the name of the goddess were they? Didn’t quite look like Skyfolk, and they didn’t usually fly by night in any case. Still, what else could it be?
Aurian had forgotten all her earlier fear, and was truly enjoying herself.—Combined with the relief of having slipped out of the Xandim settlement unnoticed, there was a nerve-tingling thrill to hurtling though the air in the frosty moonlight, and night wove a glittering bewitchment all its own to augait the Old Magic of the amulet which sped her on her way. The Mage crouched low against Chiamh’s neck for a moment-to get her glowing face out of the icy wind, and buried hands in the warmth of the Windeye’s streaming black fane. With the Othersight that came when she was wearing the talisman, she could see the land below as great fractured ites of topaz and amber that had been piled on top of one other to overlap. The stands of trees that dotted the grasslands were like the crystal growths on a frosty window. The ids were swirling torrents of silver, and the true rivers that wandered through the plains were twisting serpents that wed with misty radiance.
Grince rode behind the Mage, clasping her around the waist in a grip so tight that it was almost painful, and keeping a wary eye on the hawk that clung tightly to her shoulder, sheltering from the wind in a fold of her hood. From the corner of her eye, Aurian could see Schiannath and Iscalda speeding along beside her, their life force linked to the paths of the wind by the talisman’s power and the Mage’s will. Forral rode the great grey Schiannath, who was like a storm cloud, driven before the wild wind, and Vannor rode Iscalda, who shimmered like a pearl in the moonlight. Between the two Xandim, in a cat’s cradle of rope, a great net was suspended—one of the cargo nets from the Nightrunner ship. Shia, Khanu, and Wolf, unhappy passengers all, dangled in the net, and Aurian felt sorry for them. She knew from experience that it was definitely not the most pleasant way to travel. They would be chilled, cramped, and aching before the journey’s end. Much happier was Linnet, who flew on the other side of the Mage, effortlessly matching the pace set by the Xandim.
Aurian was pleased with the speed they were making. Even though the Xandim carried extra burdens, she could feel the Old Magic buoying them up, and so far, at least, she was experiencing little fatigue from the maintenance of the spell that made flight possible. If they kept up this pace, she estimated, they could be in Chiamh’s Chamber of Winds three nights from now. And then?—The Mage wished she knew. When she had looked into the Well of Souls, she had seen Eliseth in Aerillia—but was that any guarantee that the Weather-Mage would still be there?
When she had first reached the Dragon City, not long before sunset, Eliseth had been somewhat dismayed by the extent of the destruction. Anvar’s memories of the earthquake had been, of necessity, blurred by panic and the need for a swift escape. By the time the tremors had stopped, he had been safely back underground, and had never had a chance to see the condition of the city as Eliseth was seeing it.
The Magewoman’s winged bearers had landed her on the top of the highest tower—the very same place from which Anvar and Aurian had first looked down on Dhiammara. Below her, the great emerald tower in the center of the city was cracked throughout its length and splintered into a jagged spike, and the valley floor was a network of chasms and cracks, which gave the impression of ruin and decay. When Eliseth looked more closely, however, she saw that most of the low buildings, each one hollowed from a single gem, appeared to have survived more or less intact. She turned to Sunfeather, who stood at her side, his mouth screwed into an expression of distaste. “It’ll do,” she said shortly, daring him with a frosty look to contradict her.
He shrugged, irritating her—deliberately, she knew—by his lack of response to her challenge. “Very well, Lady. I’ll send the men down to check which buildings are safe, and to look for somewhere suitable for us to spend the night.”
By nightfall the Weather-Mage had been installed, if not comfortably, at least adequately, in one of the simple buildings. Bern, whose task was still to carry the well-wrapped Sword of Flame for her, had deposited the Artifact here in her shelter before seeking his own bed in a nearby building. Her failure to master the Sword had been Eliseth’s only setback so far—other than that, she had good reason to feel pleased with herself. Her plans were working out beautifully. She had been told by the ever-attentive Sunfeather that the Khazalim would be arriving the following night, in darkness, when it was safe to cross the desert. Tomorrow night also, the first of the slaves would begin to arrive from the settlement in the forest. Eliseth held out her hands to warm them at the flickering fire, and stretched with drowsy contentment. Now, before she curled up to sleep in the pile of thick blankets and luxuriant furs that Sunfeather had brought her, she would reach out to make contact with Vannor’s mind, and check on Aurian’s progress.
Eliseth filled the grail with water from the leather bottle by her side, and summoned Vannor’s image, sinking into his mind like a stone falling into a clear lake. Her concentration faltered as she found herself flying through the air at a tremendous speed, and with a sickening lurch, she found herself back in her own body. With a curse, she collected herself, breathing deeply and sitting perfectly still until the giddiness had passed. Then, cautiously, she tried again.
What in perdition was going on? The last time she had entered his mind Vannor had been on board a ship, and his thoughts were such a confused welter of anger, fear, and grief that she had been unable to make sense of them. Now, however, he was calmer, and raking through her victim’s latest memories, she was astounded at what she found.
Eliseth discovered, with a flash of annoyance, that she was too late to exact her vengeance upon Zanna—the wretched woman had been left behind in the Xandim settlement on the coast. Zanna’s fate was a minor detail, however; soon forgotten when the Mage discovered, to her intense shock and dismay, that Aurian could make the Xandim fly. Eliseth fought against a cold, sinking feeling of unease. This changed everything. She had thought herself secure, with plenty of time to prepare before Aurian could get anywhere near the Jeweled Desert. Now, she would have to hasten her plans along—and, as well she knew, such haste could easily breed mistakes that might cost her, if she did not take the greatest of care.