"He was closest to L'Norr, the new a'laq," the woman said. "I think you'd be best off staying away from him. He won't be interested in your sympathy."
Besh nodded, thinking that it had been a mistake to come speak with the woman. "Very well. Thank you, N'Qlae."
The two Mettai left her shelter and returned to their own. Neither of them said a word.
They ate their evening meal with Grinsa, Cresenne, and Bryntelle, and for once their conversation with the Forelanders didn't linger on matters of war or their captivity or even the Fal'Borna. They exchanged stories about their homelands and their families. They talked about magic. And they tried to ignore the fact that come the morning they would say good-bye and never see one another again. They stayed with Grinsa and Cresenne late into the night, lowering their voices after Bryntelle fell asleep. But still, the evening ended too soon.
The following morning Besh and Sirj awoke with first light and, upon emerging from their shelter, found a young Fal'Borna warrior waiting for them in the cold morning air. Two horses stood beside the man, each laden with a pair of leather sacks filled with dried rilda meat, smoked cheese, and hard bread. Besh thanked the man, who just nodded and left them.
As the warrior strode away, Grinsa and Cresenne arrived from a different direction.
"Is everything all right?" Grinsa asked, staring after the Fal'Borna. "Yes," Besh said. "Horses, food-this is all that we were hoping for." Grinsa frowned, glancing around the sept. "The a'laq hasn't come." Besh smiled ruefully. "No, but I didn't expect him."
"You saved the life of every man and woman here. You deserve more."
"We're Mettai," Besh said, as if that should have explained everything. Grinsa shook his head, looking like he might say more. But Cresenne placed a slender hand on his shoulder, and that seemed to calm him.
He stepped forward and gathered Sirj in a warm embrace. "You're a good man," the Forelander said. "May the gods grant you and your family a long, happy life together."
Sirj thumped him on the back. "Thank you, Grinsa. May they help you and yours find a home where you can be safe and live out your years in peace."
Grinsa stepped back, and Cresenne gave Sirj a light kiss on the cheek. "Thank you for saving my husband," she said.
Sirj laughed. "I think he returned the favor more than once."
Grinsa faced Besh, smiling sadly. "You still have F'Ghara's necklace?" he asked. "You might need it if you encounter any Fal'Borna on the way back." Besh patted his pocket. "I have it. But we'll try to avoid any septs just the same."
"Probably wise," Grinsa said. He regarded Besh for several moments. "I wish we'd had more time," he said. "I think I could have learned much from you."
"Thank you," Besh said. "I wonder if you would do me the honor of exchanging blades with me."
The Forelander looked puzzled.
"It's an old Mettai tradition," Besh told him. "A gesture of friendship and respect."
He pulled out his knife and offered it to Grinsa. After a moment, Grinsa took it. Then he pulled out his own blade and handed it to Besh.
"You honor me," Grinsa said.
Besh smiled. "That was my intention."
They embraced like brothers, and to Besh's surprise he found himself blinking back tears.
"Be well, Besh," Grinsa whispered. "May the rest of your days be filled with joy."
"And yours, Grinsa."
Besh released the man and turned to Cresenne. "Take care of him," he said. "He seems to spend much of his time taking care of others."
She smiled. "You've noticed that, have you?" She kissed Besh as she had Sirj. "I'll do my best. And who will take care of you?"
Besh smiled in turn. "Sirj will. And his wife, my daughter. And their children. I go home to a good life. You needn't worry about me."
"Good," Cresenne said. "Then I won't. I'll just thank you for all you did for us-and for the Southlands-and leave it at that."
Besh nodded, his eyes stinging again. He turned quickly to Sirj. "Let's be on our way," he said. "We've a long journey." He paused, looking at the Forelanders one last time. Then he climbed onto his horse and led Sirj out of the sept and onto the plain.
For a long time the two Mettai rode in silence, as a cold wind swirled around them. Besh had expected to feel cold and miserable throughout this ride back to Kirayde, and he thought it likely that there would be times when he would. But for this morning at least, his relief at being away from the Fal'Borna and on his way home was enough to keep him warm.
"Do you think they're all right?" Sirj asked suddenly. "Who?"
"Elica and the children."
Besh could picture them all in his mind-Elica, strong and long-limbed, her dark hair framing her face; Mihas, Annze, and Cam laughing at some joke one of them had told, their dark eyes dancing. And beside them all, he saw his beloved Ema, dead these many years, but still a presence in his heart and his memories. She looked at him now and smiled, as if to reassure him. To reassure them both.
"Yes," he said. "They're fine."
Sirj cast a look his way. Clearly he wanted to believe what Besh had said, but was afraid to. "How can you be so sure?" he asked.
Besh grinned. "Call it the intuition of an old man. They're well, and they can't wait to welcome us home."
Chapter 27
U'Selle had never thought that she would ride to war as the leader of her people. She could hardly think of men like S'Doryn, T'Noth, and T'Kaar as warriors, and she didn't think of herself as an a'laq who could lead men into battle. But with an Eandi army on the march in Fal'Borna lands, and with so many septs ravaged by the Mettai plague, even people in villages as remote as Lowna had been called to arms.
She was old and frail, but she was a Weaver, and she could still ride. She had spoken with other a'laqs, who had told her that a large Fal'Borna army was on its way to face the Eandi, and a second was forming in case that one failed. She and her people were to ride south, along the Silverwater, to make certain that no Eandi reinforcements entered the clan lands from Stelpana.
They rode to N'Kiel's Span, a short journey of four days, and they made camp by the wash. There they waited, watching for any sign of Eandi soldiers. U'Selle had expected that the journey would be a hardship, but she found it exhilarating instead. The cough that would eventually kill her seemed to subside, leaving her feeling stronger and more alive than she had in some time.
S'Doryn rode with her, as did the brothers, T'Noth and T'Kaar. Despite their grim task they spoke of many things and spent a good deal of their time laughing. U'Selle never would have thought that riding to war could be such fun. Perhaps this was why men of the Southlands did it so often. So long as there were no battles to be fought, she thought she could continue to enjoy herself.
And so she was deeply relieved when, just three nights after their arrival at the span, an a'laq named O'Tal entered her dreams to tell her that the fighting had ended, and that she and her people could return home.
"The Eandi army is marching your way," he said. "But we've given them leave to cross the plain back to their home. If you see them, you should allow them to cross the wash."
"We will, A'Laq," she said. "Thank you for letting me know. How did the battles go? Were we victorious?"
"There were losses on both sides," he told her. "This was a war of magic. We should be grateful that it didn't last long."
He told her no more than that, and she found his reticence unsettling.
U'Selle informed her people the following morning that they would be heading back to Lowna. Most of the men seemed pleased, though confused. As they began to break camp and prepare for the short ride home, S'Doryn approached her.
"So we've won?" he asked. "Just like that?"
She regarded him briefly, then started walking back to where she'd tethered her horse, knowing that he would follow. "I don't know exactly what happened," she said quietly. "It sounds as though the battle was… inconclusive. The Eandi are leaving, so clearly they didn't win. But when I gave O'Tal a chance to say that we had won, he refused. When was the last time a Fal'Borna warrior did that?"