"Stragglers have been arriving from Saerb throughout the day," Roen said.
"They got out before Forrin arrived," Regg said. "Our rout of his southern force made that possible, Abelar. Without us, they'd have been killed on the road as would everyone here with us now."
Abelar nodded.
"Are you all right?" Jiiris asked, and her green eyes showed concern.
"No."
His father was taking stock of the fighting men and women who had gathered for the muster, planning their next steps. Abelar did not disrupt him. He walked to the shore of the lake and sat down alone. He whispered farewell to his god as the sun set and darkness fell.
As the night bloomed, he made up his mind. He would not surrender his son to Forrin and the overmistress. Not until he had done absolutely everything he could. He could not look to the light to rescue Elden, so he would look to the darkness.
He stood, walked purposefully through the camp until he found Roen. The priest of Lathander sat with a dozen other men of Abelar's company around a fire. They had pulled a dozen silvergills from the lake. The fish cooked over the flames.
"Commander?" Roen asked, and stood.
"I need you to find Nayan."
Roen looked confused.
"The shadowwalker who rescued my father."
Roen's eyes flashed recognition. "Why?"
"Because he can find Erevis Cale. And if Erevis Cale can pull my father out of the Hole, he can pull my son out of Forrin's camp."
"Abelar…"
"Do it," Abelar said, and grabbed Roen roughly by the shoulders. He regretted the gesture immediately and released the priest. "Please do it, Roen. Any way you can. I need them here. Now."
Roen looked at the men around the fire, back at Abelar, nodded. "Of course, Abelar."
Corpses and rubble from the wall littered Selgaunt's streets. A floating Shadovar city cast its shadow over the battlefield. Shadovar and Selgauntan troops stood shoulder to shoulder amid the carnage. Coughs and the cries of the wounded sounded loud in the dusty air. Variance stood beside Tamlin, taking in the scene. Other priests and priestesses of the Lady of Loss stood among the victors.
Tamlin found the entire scene surreal. He had been certain his city would fall. Shar and the Shadovar had saved it. "It is quiet now," he said, and immediately thought the words stupid.
Variance nodded.
Rivalen and Brennus appeared over the walls, cloaked in shadows and power. The Shadovar troops hailed them with raised blades. The Selgauntans, too, raised their weapons and cheered.
The two Princes of Shade descended to stand before Tamlin and Variance. Shadows curled lazily around the brothers.
Rivalen's face, bruised around one eye and with a deep gash down one cheek, healed before Tamlin's eyes. The Prince seemed not to notice.
Brennus's homunculi emerged from his cloak, gazed about tentatively, and grinned when they saw the battle had ended.
"You are both well?" Tamlin asked.
Both nodded.
"And you?" Rivalen asked him, though he looked at Variance.
"Fine," Tamlin answered. "The rest of the Saerloonian army?"
Rivalen made a dismissive gesture. "Destroyed or fled. We will want to arrange a detail to dispose of their bodies. The dragon, too, has fled."
"Gods, man," Tamlin breathed. He was standing before two men of inordinate power. He envied them. "I scarcely know what to say, Prince. Or how to thank you and your men."
Rivalen inclined his head. "Thanks are unnecessary. I am a man of my word, Hulorn. We are… allies."
"You are that, and we are that."
"This war is not yet over," Brennus said.
"Agreed," Tamlin said. They had defeated part of Mirabeta's army, but much of it still remained.
"We should discuss next steps," Rivalen said.
"Next steps?" Tamlin asked.
Rivalen looked to Variance. "See to the wounded, Dark Sister."
"Yes, Nightseer," she said, nodded at Tamlin, and vanished into the shadows.
"There are provisions and accommodations on Sakkors," Brennus said. The homunculi rubbed their stomachs and licked their lips.
"So that is Sakkors," Tamlin said, eyeing the floating mountaintop hanging in the air above his city.
Brennus said, "Our troops will garrison there, of course, but there is ample space for more. The city was recently rebuilt. Selgaunt is overcrowded, some of its people could temporarily relocate…"
"This, too, you would share with us?" Tamlin asked.
Brennus's homunculi gave bows and Brennus said, "As my brother said, we are allies, Hulorn."
Tamlin was glad of it. He would not want to be an enemy of the Princes or Shade Enclave. He turned to face Rivalen. "Shar saved Selgaunt through you and your men. I will be candid and tell you that I wish to know more of her. Everything there is to know, Prince Rivalen."
Rivalen's eyes flashed and he regarded Tamlin for a moment. The shadows around him swirled. "I believe you, Hulorn."
Onthul appeared before them. Scratches covered his face. Rips marred his tabard and dents marked his breastplate. A piece of torn fabric bound a wound on his forearm. Dust caked his beard. Tamlin almost embraced the old war dog.
"My lords," he said to Tamlin and the Princes, and bowed. "We have more than three hundred Saerloonian prisoners, Hulorn."
"They can be imprisoned on Sakkors until you decide their fate," Rivalen said to Tamlin.
Tamlin nodded. "Very good. Gather them, Captain Onthul. The Shadovar will transport them."
Onthul nodded. "Shall I send for the priests held in the palace so that they may assist with the wounded?"
Tamlin looked out on the battlefield, at Variance and her fellow priests and priestesses moving among Selgaunt's wounded, healing them. "Are the Sharrans unable to do what needs to be done?"
Onthul looked at the battlefield, back at Tamlin. "The Sharrans appear to have matters in hand, Hulorn."
"Good. Then leave the priests where they are. Their disposition remains… under consideration."
Onthul saluted and started to walk away.
"Captain," Tamlin called.
Onthul turned, eyebrows raised in a question.
"You served Selgaunt well today, Captain."
Onthul smiled, nodded, and walked off, barking orders.
"Let us retire to discuss matters, Hulorn," Rivalen said.
"Yes," said Tamlin.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
1 Nightal, the Year of Lightning Storms
Tamlin paced the study in Stormweather Tower. He ran his fingertips over the spines of his father's books. He had read almost none of them.
"Vees Talendar a traitor?" he said to Rivalen. "That cannot be, Prince. I've known him for years. He has been indispensable to me."
Rivalen stood in the center of the study, near the chessboard, arms crossed. He advanced a black pawn. "You wished to know all, Hulorn. This is all. Will you hear the rest?"
Tamlin's stomach fluttered but he nodded.
"Recall my mention of renegade, heretical elements within the Sharran church. Vees Talendar is not a priest of Siamorphe, as he purports, but a priest of Shar."
Tamlin gave a start. "Shar? Like you?"
"Shar," Rivalen nodded. "But not like me. I learned of this months ago but kept it from you to earn Talendar's confidence and learn more of his plans. Talendar leads a group of like-minded worshipers. All of them are heretics, Hulorn. All of them are guilty of dark deeds in which innocents suffered."
Tamlin swallowed, looked out of the window onto Stormweather's night-shrouded grounds. He could not believe what he was hearing.
Rivalen continued. "The temple of Siamorphe is a carefully constructed disguise, long in planning. The true temple is below it. It is a temple to Shar, dedicated by heretics. I have seen it."