Even as Aurian spoke to Hargorn, she saw Hebba beckoning to her from the doorway. Though the woman’s sitting room was stuffed to capacity, Hebba herself had taken one horrified look at Shia and Khanu, and fled with a shriek into the sanctuary of her kitchen. Aurian, who had been close friends with Shia for so long that she intended to forget that first impressions of the cat could be terrifying, had been hoping that the woman would make herself useful while she was there by cooking some food and heating water for baths. Now she discovered that the kindly woman had been busy making her wishes come true.—Forral was discovering that his hopes for understanding from Hargorn were in vain. While Aurian was away bathing, he had taken his old friend aside and told him what the Mage had done in the tunnels beneath the Academy. Hargorn’s reaction came as a surprise.
“Well, you can say what you like, Forral, but I think you’re a bloody fool,” the veteran said bluntly. “Honest, I don’t know what you’re getting so upset about—you told her yourself there was no way any of those soldiers could be allowed to escape. Dead is dead—what’s the difference between Aurian dropping the roof on their heads and you running a sword through their guts?”
“Magic is the difference,” the swordsman insisted. “Don’t you see—those men had no chance to fight back? They never even knew what had happened to them.—Aurian is leading herself along a dangerous road with this business. Her actions were the very abuse of magical power that she herself is fighting against!”
“And don’t you think the poor lass knows that?” Hargorn retorted. “I could see it in her face—and knowing Aurian, it’ll take her far longer to forgive herself than it’ll take you to forgive her.” He sighed. “Forral, you’ve been away too long. I think you’ve built up some notion of a perfect Aurian that never existed. You know as well as I do that in war we all do things we’re not proud of, and you’ve forgotten that Aurian has been at war for a very long time now—a weird, inhuman war where there are no great battles, and most of the skirmishes go unseen by our Mortal eyes. I’m not excusing what she did—it’s a worrying development, I agree. But so long as she doesn’t start making a habit of it, I don’t think you should fret about it too much. I think she’s learned a lesson today.”
Forral opened his mouth to protest, but before he could say a word, Hargorn forestalled him. “No—now you listen to me, Forral. You tell me you’re disappointed in Aurian—how much more must she be disappointed in you? When she felt bad she knew she could always count on you, no matter what. You can’t just suddenly reappear and start judging her like this. She’s managed well enough without you for a long time now—or is that what’s really eating at you?”
The swordsman scowled. “Now, look here ...”
“No, you look. Instead of getting angry at me now, just think about it for a while. And for the Gods’ sake, and your own, make up your quarrel—if quarrel you can call it—with Aurian. She needs you, Forral, as she’s never needed you before, and you can keep her out of trouble far easier if the two of you are friends.”
Forral sighed. “I suppose you’re right, Hargorn. You old bugger—when did you become so wise and sensible?”
The veteran grinned. “Living with Dulsina, Vannor’s woman, if you must know. I got to know her when we were both with the rebels.” He shook his head sadly.
“It just about broke her when Vannor was taken by the Phaerie. Afterward, she came here to stay with Hebba and me for a while, but now she’s gone to the Nightrunners—that’s where she is now. Zanna is taking good care of her.”
To the Mage’s delight, the redoubtable Hebba had provided baths for those who wanted them, in a scullery behind the main kitchen where a blazing fire heated the water in the copper set into the side of the wide fireplace. Clean clothes that looked approximately the right size were folded in a pile on a chair nearby, and several towels were warming on the drying rack above the fireplace. Aurian, soaking in a hot tub with the cold tankard balanced on the rim, felt her heart beginning to warm to Hebba. The kindly woman had thought of everything, and the Mage was reminded, with a wistful pang, of Nereni. She wondered what Eliizar’s wife was doing now—and how she was enjoying the surprise gift that Aurian had left for her at their parting.
When the Mage came out of the scullery, still drying her hair, she found that Hargorn had managed to master his shock at seeing Forral in a different body.—He and the swordsman were deep in talk, and Aurian smiled to herself, touched by the quiet, undemonstrative pleasure they clearly found in each other’s company.
Forral looked up and saw her. Hargorn gave him a vicious dig with his elbow, and he held out his arms. “I’m sorry, lass, for blaming you so harshly,” he said simply. “I wasn’t thinking straight.”
Aurian went to him, but instead of embracing him, she stood back and took his hands in her own. Somehow she could scarcely bear to have Anvar’s arms around her when another soul looked out from behind his blue eyes. “Do you recall that first day we met, and you told me off for playing with fireballs in the wood? Do you remember what I said?”
The swordsman grinned. “Aye, you wretch—you said it was an emergency.”
“Well, it was an emergency today, too. I know it was wrong—I just couldn’t think of another way out of the situation.”
Forral sighed. “I know, lass. But don’t be tempted to do it again. Remember what happened to you the next time I caught you playing with fireballs.”
“Indeed!” Aurian snorted. “You’d have your work cut out to do that again!”
And, feeling lighter of heart, she suddenly embraced him after all. It had taken a while, but now she was getting used to the idea, she could admit to herself that she too was glad to have Forral back, though she still missed Anvar desperately. His absence was a constant, unalleviated ache inside, and she knew that the pain would never leave her until she could hold him in her arms once more. If only Forral could stay without sacrificing Anvar, Aurian thought with a sigh. There must be a way out of this dilemma—but I’m damned if I know what it could be.
“Listen, Grince.” Jarvas’s ugly face creased in a frown. “I want to talk about you in private, while everyone is distracted.”
Grince’s heart sank. While Jarvas was, at heart, a gentle soul, he had an uncertain temper and an uncompromising way of looking at the world. The thief wondered if his escapade the previous night had upset the big man, and if he would be going home tonight with more bruises to add to his collection.—Jarvas took the thief by the elbow and drew him into a quiet corner.
“Grince—I’ve known you since you were a lad, and frankly, it’s about time someone made you pull yourself together.” Jarvas was frowning, his ugly face furrowed in concern. “Frankly,” he went on, “I don’t blame you. Everybody round here knows what a bastard Lord Pendral is. I know what he did to you, and I understand why you’d want revenge. But don’t you understand what you’ve done? Pendral has his troop of armed bullies combing the city for the jewel thief, and even if you give the jewels back now, it won’t make any difference.—He’ll never rest until he tracks you down—and he’s bound to catch up with you sooner or later. You’ve put yourself in deadly danger, lad. I’m afraid you’ll have to disappear for a while—and fast.”
Grince stared at Jarvas in dismay. Bent on revenge as he was, he had never truly considered the repercussions of his action. What a fool he had been! He had dug his own grave last night, if word got back to Pendral.
Jarvas put a big, rough hand on the thief’s shoulder. “Don’t fret,” he said kindly. “We’ll get you out of this yet. Pendral’s men won’t come in here, so you’re safe enough for now.. ..”