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“You killed Borys because you wanted to be immortal-now you are,” scoffed the Oba, signaling Sadira to come forward.

The rainstorm died as suddenly as it had arisen, and the sorceress carried the Dark Lens to the edge of the ridge. Without pause, she hurled the obsidian orb into the lava lake. She and the others watched it fall. When it hit, a long, steady rumble rolled up from deep within the Ring of Fire, and the entire hill began to shake. At last, there was a deafening crash, and a plume of black flame shot up from the lake. It rose high into the sky, piercing Tithian’s storm clouds like an arrow, and arced toward the sun.

When it finally disappeared, the Oba nodded. “It is done,” she said and began to walk away.

Nibenay cast a cold glance in Rikus’s direction then also started toward home.

Hamanu waited a few moments before following, pausing as he passed the mul’s side. “I once told you that there is a difference between daring and insolence,” he said. “I trust you will remember that difference in future dealings between Tyr and Urik.”

Rikus nodded. “As long as you keep in mind the difference between men and chattel-at least as far as Tyrians are concerned.”

“I always do,” replied the sorcerer-king. “It is my slaves who forget.”

Hamanu left, leaving Rikus and the others alone. They watched the three rulers for a short time, until the trio grew tired of walking, and each took flight in a different direction.

Once they were out of sight, Rikus let out a deep sigh of relief. “We made it this far,” he said. “We should start for home ourselves.”

Neeva’s mouth tightened with sadness, and tears began to well in her green eyes. “I guess we’d better.” She looked away and wiped her cheeks, then laid her hand on Rkard’s shoulder and began to limp down the hill. “Home is a long way off.”

Rikus felt Sadira’s hand pushing him after the warrior. When the mul looked back, he saw wisps of black shadow rising from the corners of her emberlike eyes.

She smiled with genuine joy. “Go,” she whispered.

The mul returned her smile, though with a little more sadness than hers, and kissed her on the cheek. “I love you.”

“And I love you,” she replied, giving him another gentle push. “But Neeva and Rkard need you.”

The mul nodded, then turned and caught up to Neeva and her son. “Have you given much thought to where home will be now?” he asked.

The warrior shrugged. “In Kled, I suppose,” she said. “It is Rkard’s home.”

“Maybe he’d like to live in Tyr,” Rikus suggested. “We could take him to Kemalok as often as he likes.”

The boy’s face lit up. “You mean we could live with you and Sadira?”

The mul frowned, not quite sure how to answer this question.

“No, you’d just live with Rikus, in his townhouse,” said Sadira, stepping to Neeva’s side. “When I return, I’ll stay at Agis’s estate-but you could come to visit.”

Neeva looked from Sadira to Rikus, her brow furrowed and her lips tightly pursed. “You two have this all worked out, don’t you?” she asked.

Rikus felt the heat rising to his face. “Yes,” he said. “I guess we do.”

Neeva shook her head in amazement then slipped her arm through Rikus’s. “Then it seems Rkard and I have no choice in the matter.” She grasped Sadira’s hand and squeezed it warmly. “We’ll go back to Tyr.”

“Good,” said Sadira. “I’m looking forward to seeing you there.”

Neeva frowned. “Seeing us there?” she asked.

Sadira nodded. “I’ll be staying here for a few weeks,” she said. “There are some wards that I must place around Rajaat’s new prison. Tithian is not the only mortal on Athas who lusts after immortality, and I intend to be certain that I know if anyone else attempts to achieve it by freeing Rajaat.”

Rikus and Neeva glanced at each other. “I guess that means we’ll be staying, too,” Rikus said. “We can’t cross the Sea of Silt without you.”

Sadira smiled. “Of course you can.”

The sorceress pursed her lips and began to blow. Black shadow billowed from her mouth, and she used her hands to form it into the shape of a boat. Soon, the wispy image of a dhow sat before them, although it had no sail or keel. Sadira tossed a jagged piece of black basalt into the bilge and spoke her incantation. The dhow turned as solid as stone, then rose off the ground and hovered in the air before them.

“Don’t try to fly too far in one day. You have to set down on a mudflat or island each day before dark.” The sorceress reached over the gunnel and pointed to the rock she had thrown into the bilge. “In the morning, hold the stone up to the sun, and the boat will form again.”

Rikus helped Neeva into the boat. As Rkard climbed in beside his mother, the mul faced Sadira. “Hurry back,” he said. “We’ll miss you until you return.”

Sadira took Rikus’s arm and guided him toward the boat’s tiller. “You have a long journey ahead,” she said. “And remember, you need to make landfall before dark.”

The mul climbed into the stern. Sadira kissed him on the cheek and gave the dhow a shove. The little craft streaked into the sky, climbing through a thin layer of clouds and into the full fury of the crimson sun.