"We have to stop relying on Mettai magic," she said. "And that means that we have to head home."
"But we've come so far!" Fayonne said. "We're on the Horn. Sivralna is already defeated. All that remains is Deraqor!"
Gries stepped forward, so that he stood just in front of Tirnya's father. "I have to agree with the eldest, Marshal," he said quietly. "One city remains. And if we use Torgan's basket, we can take it without risking the lives of any more of our men."
"You haven't been listening!" Mander said. "The only way that basket can help you defeat all of Deraqor is if you use our magic to spread it over the city. And with this curse, we have no guarantee that it won't lead to another disaster."
"And I've already told you, Captain," Jenoe said, and this time there could be no doubt as to his thoughts, or his mood. "More than once as I remember it. I will not be using the merchant's basket. I want nothing to do with the man, and I don't want him anywhere near my army."
Gries's face colored. "Yes, Marshal."
Jenoe held the man's gaze for another moment before facing Hendrid.
Waterstone's marshal, though usually a formidable man, looked broken. His shoulders were hunched and there was a dusting of snow on his uniform. His face was ashen.
"Marshal, your soldiers have suffered greatly today," Jenoe said, his voice softening. "What is it you'd have me do?"
Hendrid shook his head. "I don't have the stomach for another battle, Jenoe. It's time I took the few men I have left and returned to Waterstone." Jenoe nodded and turned to Stri, Enly, and his other captains. "What do the rest of you say?"
"Without the magic of the Mettai, we can't win," Stri answered. He hesitated, his glance flicking toward Fayonne. "And I no longer trust the magic of the Mettai."
"I agree," Enly said. "I believe continuing this war would be too dangerous."
"And you're all right with this decision?" Jenoe asked, facing Tirnya again. "I know how much you wanted to take back Deraqor."
"Yes, I did," Tirnya said. "But the cost of this magic is too high. And His Lordship made it clear that we weren't to go on without the Mettai."
Jenoe smiled, looking as proud of her in that moment as he had the day she almost bloodied Enly in the Harvest Tournament a few turns before.
"All right then," he said, raising his voice so that all could hear. "We start back now. Muster your men into their companies. I want our march back toward the Silverwater to be orderly and disciplined. We're still in Fal'Borna land, and we may still face more battles before we reach the wash. I want to be on our way within the hour."
"What about us, Marshal?" Fayonne asked.
Tirnya's father regarded the woman soberly. "I hope you and your people will march with us, Eldest. You may need our protection along the way. And though I may regret this before all is done, we might well need yours."
Chapter 21
The freedoms E'Menua granted Besh and Sirj just before he led his warriors out of the sept did much to improve the spirits of both Mettai men. It bothered Besh that the a'laq had not actually spoken to them again before leaving and that the man had said nothing about their future beyond the end of this war. But Besh had faith in Grinsa, and that faith had been bolstered by the fact that he and Sirj were no longer prisoners in their shelter.
The two Mettai had spent the first several evenings after the warriors' departure with Grinsa's wife and their beautiful daughter. She spent her days working with the Fal'Borna women in their tanning circle. But late on that first day, when her work was through, she retrieved her child from the girls who cared for the sept's young children, and walked to Besh and Sirj's shelter.
"I understand you're free to leave your z'kal now," she said, after they had greeted her.
"Yes," Besh said, exchanging glances with Sirj. "I believe we have your husband to thank."
"Probably," she said. "I was wondering if you'd like to eat your meals with Bryntelle and me. The Fal'Borna give us food now, because Grinsa's a Weaver. And I'd enjoy the company."
"We'd enjoy that as well," Besh said.
He and Sirj followed her to the shelter she usually shared with Grinsa, where they ate a small meal and chatted deep into the evening.
Cresenne appeared to enjoy their company, and being around the woman and her child was a balm for Besh's heart. He'd been away from Elica, his daughter, for too long, and he missed his grandchildren, Mihas, Annze, and Cam, terribly.
In many ways, Cresenne reminded him of Elica. She was strong, with a sharp wit and a keen mind. Even her laugh was similar to Elica's, low and strong, as if it came from her heart.
He and Sirj ate with her again the following night. Sirj was quiet during their evenings with the woman, though he, too, seemed to enjoy himself.
Still, Besh could only imagine how much the man missed Elica and their children, and he wondered if being with Cresenne and the baby brought him some comfort or made him feel even worse.
On this third day, as the sun started its slow descent in the west and they waited for Cresenne to come to their shelter again, Besh asked Sirj if the two of them should have their supper alone that night.
"Why?" Sirj asked, clearly puzzled by the suggestion.
Besh shrugged. "I thought that maybe…" He stopped, frowning slightly. "I don't know if it's hard for you to be with Cresenne and Bryntelle. If it makes being apart from Elica and the children even worse."
"Nothing could make that worse than it already is," Sirj said in a low voice, staring off across the sept.
Besh put his hand on the man's shoulder. "No," he said. "I don't suppose it could."
"I like going," Sirj said. "She's a good woman. She and Grinsa… they belong together."
For a moment Besh thought that Sirj would say more. But he didn't and Besh didn't see any need to belabor the point. When Cresenne appeared in the distance a short time later, he raised a hand in greeting and when she neared, he and Sirj stood to greet her.
They didn't talk about much as they walked back to her z'kal. Besh asked her about what work she had done that day, but she didn't have much to say. She seemed quieter than usual, though her daughter was chattering enough for all of them. Since the first night they had supped together, the girl had taken a special interest in Sirj. Cresenne said that she thought that it was Sirj's dark, wild hair and beard, which were so different from the white hair of the Qirsi and even from Besh's grey. She didn't think that the babe had ever seen anyone who looked like the young Mettai.
Whatever the reason, the girl peered at Sirj as they walked, her pale eyes as wide as they could be, a faint smile on her perfect little mouth.
After a few moments of this, Cresenne said, "Would you like to hold her?"
Sirj looked at the woman, a slightly panicked expression on his face. "Hold her?"
"You have children, right?" she said. "You've held babies before." Besh fought hard to keep from laughing.
Cresenne stopped walking and held out her daughter for Sirj to take. He hesitated a moment and then took the child in his arms. She let out a delighted squeal and immediately grabbed hold of his beard with both hands.
"Bryntelle!" Cresenne said, laughing.
"It's all right," Sirj said, looking up from Bryntelle's face. "It doesn't hurt. At least not much." He grinned, but there were tears in his eyes.
"All right," Cresenne said. She glanced at Besh, her expression pained.
They walked on, and had nearly reached Cresenne's shelter when the woman abruptly halted.
"Damn," she said under her breath.
Looking in the same direction she was, Besh saw the n'qlae standing in front of the shelter, her arms crossed over her chest.
"What do you think she wants?" Besh asked in a whisper.
Cresenne shook her head, her lips in a tight line. "I don't know. But she and her husband don't seem to like any of us very much. Better let me do the talking."