Aurian sighed. “Gods, Zanna, I hardly know where to start....”
It took a good hour to tell the Nightrunner woman the whole tale. Zanna listened, saying nothing, though Aurian could see that she was aching to interrupt from time to time. When Aurian finally finished, she let out a long whistle. “By all the Gods—that’s incredible! Aurian . . .” She leaned forward and put her hand on the Mage’s arm, staring at her intently. “What you said about Forral and Anvar, and the Caldron of Rebirth—do you think it might have happened to my father, too?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Well . . .” Zanna told Aurian about Vannor’s poisoning, and the old woman who had come and healed him in some miraculous fashion. “And after that, he changed somehow,” she said sadly. “It’s hard to explain, but he was never the same man.” She hesitated. “Aurian—do you think that old woman have been Eliseth? And if it was, then what did she do to my dad?”
Aurian frowned. “Who can say, Zanna? But it looks very to me. As to how she changed him—well, I have no idea. From what you say, there doesn’t seem to have been the kind of exchange that occurred between Forral and Anvar.—Something obviously happened though—and whatever it was, you can be sure that no good will come of it.”
“If he’s still alive,” murmured Zanna, “I’d be willing to take that risk, believe me.”
She must have been wrong about the hawk. When Aurian awakened a third time to find the bird gone, it was hard to contain her disappointment. She had been so sure . . . Well, I can’t think why, the Mage chided herself. So it was the only creature around when you came back through. So you were sure that Anvar had come with you. So the creature seemed to be dead, then you saw it move ...—But a hawk! You idiot! Is it even possible for a human spirit to occupy the form of a bird? Then she thought of Chiamh and Wolf, and Maya in the shape of an invisible unicorn. If all these things were possible, why not a bird?—Grince and Forral were already up and about, and the Nightrunner healer, Emmie, pronounced Aurian fit to do the same. “Do you know what happened to the hawk that was here?” the Mage asked her, as she clambered stiffly out of bed and began to scramble into her clothes.
The woman’s face fell. “Lady, I’m sorry,” she said. “The poor creature looked sick, so I took it down to the kitchen quarters to see if it would eat. When I was crossing the harbor cavern, it just took off on me and flew away out to sea.”
Aurian’s heart ached with disappointment. She turned away from Emmie so that the woman could not see her face. So that was that, then. It couldn’t have been Anvar—or why would he have left her? Feeling incredibly stupid, Aurian fixed a bright smile on her face and turned back to the Healer. “Never mind.—He’s probably better off where he is.”
When the Mage returned to her chambers, Forral was waiting for her. She took one look at his face, and Anvar’s blue eyes glinting cold with wrath, and suddenly found herself wishing that she’d stayed where she was, in the infirmary.
“What I want to know is, what the bloody blazes did you think you were doing?”
Forral paced the floor, unable to contain his anger. “You nearly got us all killed!”
“There’s no need to point out the obvious,” Aurian retorted, eyes flashing.
“It’s your own fault that you were there in the first place. I didn’t want you to follow me. And if it’s any business of yours, I was trying to find out what Eliseth was doing.”
“By going off into some trance and lying there like a dead thing? Couldn’t you just scry for her, or whatever it is you Magefolk do?”
“There were good reasons why that wasn’t possible,” Aurian shouted. “You’re not a Mage—you don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about! Anvar would have understood. ...”
Her words lay between them like a naked sword.
“Ah, so that’s what’s rankling with you—bloody Anvar again!” Forral snarled.
“Maybe you were just trying to get yourself killed, so you could follow him ..
.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Aurian said flatly. “That’s what happened when I lost you.”
“What?” Forral stopped pacing and stared at her.
“It’s true,” Aurian flung at him. “I very nearly drowned myself the night you were killed, then in the days—the months, really, after I lost you, I was taking the most insane risks. It was Anvar who stopped me—he protected me and took care of me until I was thinking rationally again.”
“Well, I hope you didn’t resent him as much as you seem to resent me for doing the same thing.”
Aurian stared at him, openmouthed, for a long moment. Slowly, the anger drained out of her. “Damn,” she said wryly. “You’ve got me there. Actually, you’re right—more often than not I gave him an awful time.”
“Good,” the swordsman said decisively. He turned away so that she couldn’t see his face. “That’s one comfort, anyway,” he muttered.
“What?” Aurian wasn’t sure she had heard him right. “Why in the world would you say a thing like that?”
Forral swung round and glared. “Because I’m jealous of him, that’s why,” he roared. “Insanely, murderously jealous ... That bastard lay with you—you loved him. ...” In three swift steps he closed the gap between them. Seizing the Mage by the shoulders, hard enough to wring a gasp of pain from her, he covered her mouth with his own and kissed her until she fought for breath.—For a moment Aurian struggled against him—and then she didn’t care anymore.—She was done with fighting this insane situation. He was Forral, he was Anvar—both the men she’d loved and mourned. And she wanted him, them—whatever. Almost savagely, she returned his kisses, then they were tearing at each other’s clothes. Forral picked her up and hurled her down onto the bed, and with a triumphant laugh, Aurian pulled him down on top of her. That first time, they coupled with savage ferocity, blasting away the walls that had grown up between them. Then, almost before the echoes of that first, fierce passion had time to die away, they made love again, gently, this time, and with infinite tenderness.
When at last it was over, and they lay spent in one another’s arms, Forral looked at her searchingly, and the Mage was moved to see tears standing in Anvar’s intense blue eyes. “So you do still care,” he whispered.
Aurian gave a languorous sigh. “You bloody fool,” she said softly. “Of course I do.”
Someone was pounding on the door. Aurian turned over and made a small sound of complaint, unwilling to be disturbed from her happy dreams. “Go away,” she shouted.
“Wake up!” It was Zanna’s voice. “Hurry! You’ve got to come—just wait till you see who’s here! D’arvan and Parric and Chiamh, and . . .” Her voice cracked.
“Oh, Aurian, they have Dad with them!”
Aurian leapt out of bed and ran to the door. Forral almost beat her to it.—When they opened it, Zanna’s face was a picture. She looked from one to the other. “I know I said to hurry,” she told them faintly, “but I think there’s time for you to put some clothes on first.”
As she came through the common-room door, Aurian’s heart leapt to see Chiamh.—His face lit up at the sight of her. Their reunion was without tears or laughter; they simply embraced, with quiet delight and deep, deep joy. “I’m so happy to see you,” Aurian said softly. “I never thought I’d set eyes on you in human form again—and it was all my fault, for not mastering the Sword of Flame, and controlling the Phaerie.”
“No,” the Windeye told her. “You take too much blame upon yourself. It was the Forest Lord who trapped us in our equine forms—he did not ask us to choose, or to help; he never once looked on us as human. At least Hellorin’s son is far more enlightened,” he added. “It was he who bargained for our freedom.”