Jenoe set an easy pace, no doubt concerned for Enly and the other wounded, but any movement at all was too much. His men had fashioned a litter for him, and he lay on it stiffly, gasping at every bump, every jolt. His lead riders took turns checking on him. Aldir even rode beside him for a while, trying to make conversation, until Enly gently but firmly informed the man that he didn't wish to speak with anyone.
"0' course, Capt'n," Aldir said. "Let us know if'n ya need anythin'." With that he rode ahead, joining the other riders.
Immediately Enly felt badly for sending the man away. But he couldn't bring himself to call Aldir back. He remained alone, staring back at foot soldiers who steadfastly avoided his gaze, and watching the day slip by. He assumed that Gries and Tirnya were together, but the one advantage of not being on his horse was that he couldn't look for them.
Tirnya had saved him. He was certain of it. And even at the time, barely alive, in more agony than he had ever thought possible, he had noticed how she wept for him, how she begged the eldest and then Mander to save him. Fool that he was, he allowed himself to believe that she did this because she loved him.
He knew better now. He had been dying; she didn't want him dead. Even in the midst of their worst moments, she had never wanted him dead. Probably the thought of his death frightened her.
The first time they stopped to rest, Enly stayed on his litter. As uncomfortable as he was, he thought it would be infinitely worse to have to climb off of it and then back on. He sipped a bit of water and chewed gingerly on a piece of cheese. Even his face hurt.
When they halted again later in the day, he did get up, not because he felt any better, but because he could no longer resist the urge to look for Tirnya. He spotted Gries first, and much to his surprise, Tirnya wasn't with the man. She was with her father and Stri. He refused to believe that this meant anything, but it did lift his spirits.
Soon they were moving again and, perhaps mercifully, the pain made Enly forget about anything else.
Late in the day, Barjen joined him and asked him how he felt. When Enly told him, the Mettai nodded as if he had expected this.
"That will pass eventually," the man said. "But it could take half a turn or more. Your injuries were severe." He faltered briefly, but then went on. "With injuries like yours, there's only so much our magic can do."
Enly felt as if someone had poured cold water down his back. "What do you mean?" But he knew. Actually he'd been expecting this. He'd come too close to dying for there to be no lasting effect.
"You might not be able to… to do things that you used to. I've heard soldiers speaking of your skill with a sword. You might not be the swordsman you once were. You might not be able to move as nimbly or as fast."
He swallowed, nodded. "Thank you for telling me."
"Of course. Should I leave you?"
Enly shook his head, but didn't say anything at first. Something had been gnawing at him for the past day, and he didn't know quite how to put into words what was on his mind.
"I didn't mean for the eldest's son to do what he did," he finally said, knowing that this didn't sound right. "Neither did Captain Onjaef. We didn't know what the curse would do."
"We know that," Barjen said. "None of us knew, except perhaps Mander. He seemed to understand."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Barjen said. "Live well. Make his sacrifice mean something. That's all any of us can ask of you."
"How is the eldest?"
The Mettai shook his head. "Not well."
He started to walk away, but Enly called him back.
"Forgive me for asking," he said, "but yesterday, when you healed the others, did anything… did anything go wrong?"
"No," Barjen said. "Not a thing. It probably means nothing. But there are a few among us who wonder if by embracing the curse as he did, Mander finally broke it."
"Is that possible?"
"I don't know," the man told him. "I suppose we'll find out."
"I hope those of you who believe this are right," Enly said.
"Thank you." The man smiled and walked away.
Enly took a long, slow breath. With injuries like yours, there's only so much our magic can do. He'd be lame for the rest of his life. That's what the man was telling him.
"Damn," Enly said quietly. He felt tears welling and he willed them away. He could still be a soldier, and someday he'd still be lord governor. He refused to give in to self-pity. He stared back at the foot soldiers with his head held high. But inside, his heart ached. Tirnya would never settle for a broken man.
A short time later, they halted for the night. Enly's men built him a fire and laid out his sleeping roll and blankets. He ate a small supper and then lay down, grateful to be still and warm.
He had almost dozed off when he heard footsteps nearby. Opening his eves, he saw Tirnya standing over him.
"Hello," he said guardedly.
"Hello." She stood there for a moment, clearly feeling awkward. At last she sat down on the grass beside his fire, a few fourspans from where he lay. "How are you feeling?" she asked.
"Lousy."
She frowned.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you wanted an honest answer." He forced a smile. "I feel great, never better."
Her frown deepened and she stood again. "I'm sorry you're not well. I'll leave you alone." She turned to leave.
He cursed under his breath. "Tirnya, wait!" He tried to sit up, winced, and collapsed onto his back.
She had stopped and faced him again, and now she looked down at him, her brow furrowed with concern.
"Do you want me to get a healer?"
"No," Enly said. "I want you to sit and talk to me."
"You're sure?"
"Yes."
She sat again, closer to him this time.
"It's been a long day," he said.
"You're still in a lot of pain."
He nodded. "But Barjen says that's to be expected." He turned his head toward the fire so that he wouldn't have to see her face. Best just to get it over with. "He also said that I might not heal entirely. I'll be… I'll be lame."
She said nothing. After a few moments of silence he chanced a look at her. She was chewing her lip, staring at the fire as well.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"Don't be. I shouldn't even be alive. I wouldn't be if it wasn't for you." He made himself grin. "I suppose this means you'll have a clear shot at the crystal dagger next year."
A sly smile crept over her face. "I was thinking along similar lines," she said. "This makes things easier in a way."
He stared at her, stung by her words. "That's quite a thing to say!"
"Oh, hush!" Tirnya said. "I didn't mean it that way. I was simply pointing out the obvious. Only one person from any family is allowed in the tournament, and you and I would have fought day and night over which one of us would enter."
"What are you-?" Realization crashed over him like an ocean wave. "What are you saying?" he asked, his grin genuine this time.
"Figure it out for yourself." She leaned over and kissed him gently on the lips. "Sleep," she whispered. "You need rest."
He nodded, unable to speak.
She stood and started to walk away. Then she stopped and walked back to him. "Was there anything else Barjen said you wouldn't be able to do?" she asked coyly, a hand on her hip.
He felt his cheeks redden. "No," he said. "Nothing else."
"Good," she said, turning and starting away again. "Because that would have been a problem."