“All… right,” he whispered and tried to smile as she leaned over him. His eyes shifted, flicked over his fallen brother, then met Panev’s squarely. “Priest,” he said. “I remember what… you did for Willow. That… box of powder?” He swallowed, raised his voice a little. “I know you can heal us both. I’m… not as bad off as Blor, though. Take care of… of him first, will you?”
Eddis’ throat closed. “Jers!” Her voice wouldn’t rise above a whisper. “Gods, no, don’t do this!” His fingers gripped her hand, his eyes warning, and she fell silent.
“Do it, Priest,” Jerdren said, “before… one of us…dies…”
Panev gripped Jerdren’s fingers and signed a blessing over him.
“That’s right,” Jerdren whispered. “Go. Save him. I… can wait.”
Eddis’ eyes filled with tears. Jerdren clung to her fingers. “You can’t do this,” she choked out.
“Shhh.” His eyes flicked warningly toward his brother. She could see the priest sprinkling his powder around the knife, remembered the man’s words as he brought Willow back from near death. Panev could use this cure on one man only. Her tears spilled over and fell on Jerdren’s face. He laid his free hand gently against her cheek.
“Don’t cry, Eddis. You’re… my kind of warrior, remember?” He coughed and brought up a smile. “Tough, skilled. And so… so beautiful. Did I ever tell you that? So… gods’ blessed beautiful.” He swallowed, grimaced as pain knifed through him. “Take… care of him for me.”
She brushed her lips against his fingers as they slipped from her hand, as the breath eased out of him on a long, quiet sigh. Eddis closed his eyes, dashed tears aside with the back of her hand, and let M’Baddah help her up and hold her. Flerys clasped her close, tears plowing a muddy path down her face.
The priest staggered up. “The man will live. He will sleep for some hours, though. Those of you with the strength for it, carry him.” He made another sign of blessing over the still Jerdren. “And his brother. We will not leave such a hero behind.”
“What about ’im?” Flerys demanded, black eyes fixed on Hebold.
Eddis stroked the girl’s hair. Her eyes were hard.
“We leave him where he fell, child. He’s got everything he deserved.”
Ten days later, Eddis sat cross-legged and barefoot in the open doorway of the small, private sleeping room of the Keep’s inn, staring blankly at the paving stones, fingers absently working through a long strand of dean hair. Even that seemed too much of an effort all at once, and her hands fell to her lap.
They’d been welcomed as heroes, and Jerdren had been given a hero’s funeral pyre. Not one of them could enter the tavern or walk into the open without folk cheering them or asking about their great adventures. The castellan had brought out the treasure they’d sent ahead, and with the rest they’d brought in, each of them was wealthier than they could have imagined, even after shares were set aside for the families of men who’d died out there.
“Adventures,” the swordswoman muttered. She felt old and used, too tired and disinterested to even rise from the floor, though her back was beginning to ache and one foot had gone to sleep. “Heroes,” she said bitterly. “We had luck and skill, and even then…”
Even then, they hadn’t finished the job—not the way she and Jerdren had planned. There were hobgoblins and goblins still alive, including their chiefs. Possibly these would scatter, now that the priest was dead and his temple and chapel burned. The minotaur might keep to his maze and be no threat to those who traveled the road. It didn’t matter, she thought. I won’t go back there again.
Just now, she wasn’t certain she’d go back out to guarding caravans. People here were friendly, but she didn’t feel like one of them. Nothing in the realm called her back there, and now M’Baddah was talking about returning to his homeland. M’Whan would go, of course. She wasn’t surprised when Flerys decided she wanted to go with them.
“She’s a good child, and I’ll miss her, but M’Baddah’s better for her than I would ever be.”
Eddis knew he’d stay if she decided to go back to the road. He’d welcome her if she chose to travel with him. It was too much effort to think about, at the moment.
One good thing had come out of all this: Flerys. It was hard to remember the wild, filthy creature who called itself Blot. Now the girl walked confidently about the Keep. She kept the golden earrings Jerdren had told her to take from the bugbear chieftain’s wife, wearing them on a chain around her neck since they were much too large for her ears.
“I’ll wear them and remember him that way,” she said.
Odd, Eddis thought. Other than that brief kindness, Jerdren had paid little heed to the child.
Blorys—she hadn’t seen him in days. Not since Jerdren’s funeral. I should find him, tell him… She couldn’t complete the thought. Tell him she was sorry his beloved brother had chosen to die, so he could live? Her throat tightened.
To her surprise, most of the Keep men had quietly returned to their companies, and those she saw seemed little changed by what had happened.
Willow and Mead had left hours earlier, stopping to talk to her on their way out. Willow had been sympathetic. Mead tried to talk her into sense. It didn’t matter.
“If I hadn’t dropped when he threw that second knife, Jerdren would still be—” She swallowed hard, shook her head.
“Don’t think that.” Blorys’ voice.
She started, blotted her eyes and looked up, then away.
“Eddis…”
She shook her head again, and this time he dropped down next to her.
“Mead told me. I… gods, I should have come to see you before now. I didn’t know you thought…” His voice tightened. “It’s not your fault. How can you think that?”
“He’s dead, isn’t he?”
“He’s dead because he chose to let me live. If you’re placing blame, lay it on Hebold. Black hells, lay it on Jers for taking the man into that temple with us.” The man’s voice was suddenly tight. “You can’t just sit here, brooding on it. Jers would hate it.”
She frowned, puzzled.
“I saw how he looked at you, Eddis. I know how he felt, because I feel the—never mind.” He got to his feet, reached down and waited until she finally took his hand to let him pull her up. “I know my brother. Wherever he is now, he knows he died doing something heroic and tragic at the same time.” He managed a faint smile. His eyes shone with unshed tears. “I’d like him alive again, so I could strangle him just for that. But it won’t help anything, and it won’t change anything.”
“I—” She tried to smile at the awful joke, bit back a sob. “He was the most annoying, frustrating, crazy—! And I hate that he’s done this to you.”
“What?” Blorys asked quietly. “Left me? Left me in his debt? Stepped aside with a noble bow to leave the field to me? I’m angry with him right now, but that’s grief. He’d have been angry if our places had been changed that afternoon. There was no easy way out of this one, Eddis. No way out at all.”
She shook her head. “What do you mean, the field?”
“I know how he felt about you, Eddis. We both did. I still do. I know it’s hardly the time to talk about it. But, if you’ll listen to me for a little, an idea I had… Well, maybe we’ll have the time, later. To decide, anyway.”
He folded his arms, leaned against the wall.
“I’m done with the road and guarding caravans. Too many memories in that, and the gods know I don’t need the coin. I can’t go back to our home village. I’d be stifled in a fortnight. And you?”
He let the question hang. She shrugged.
“M’Baddah’s restless,” she said after a moment. “Wondering what’s happened to his homeland, thinking that if things are still bad for his people, he might be able to help shift the balance. M’Whan will go with his father, of course. And Flerys—”