The chanting leonin healer standing nearby had obviously not gotten to her abdominal wound yet. Glissa held her sister’s hand for a few seconds then gently pushed her away.
“Lyese,” Glissa said, clutching her temple in one clawed hand and unable to disguise the irritation she suddenly felt welling up. A brand new headache that had set up shop in her temple didn’t help matters. “You were supposed to come straight here. What were you thinking?”
Lyese looked as if she’d been slapped in the face.
“I can’t believe you. All right, next time, I’ll just let you die,” Lyese said. “Follow your example. Won’t even try to help somebody who’s shouting in my brain.”
Okay, maybe Glissa had misplayed this. She clenched her fists and rose from the cot, feeling her own temper rising as her health returned. “Do you really want to do this now?” Glissa asked, taking a slow step toward her sister, and before her brain thought better of it, added, “I thought we were past this. Just grow up, will you?”
“Way ahead of you,” Lyese said bitterly. She flipped up her eyepatch, revealing an empty red pit. Glissa involuntarily gasped. “Take a good long look, sister. I grew up fast.”
“The healer-maybe she can help,” Glissa said.
“She tried,” Lyese said. “Nothing works. Magic cauterization or something.”
“I spoke out of line. I’m sorry,” Glissa began. “Sorry for everything. Everything that’s happened, and my part in it. If that makes you hate me even more, fine. And I’m grateful you saved me. That was…incredibly brave. I was scared, and I had given up hope. Thank you.”
Lyese eyed Glissa incredulously. “I-you’re welcome,” she said at last.
“It was still dangerous,” Glissa added.
“That didn’t scare me,” Lyese said.
“No, but it should,” Glissa said. “We’re all we’ve got left, Lyese. You and me. And our friends,” she added, indicating the others in the tent. “But please, just promise me something.”
“What?”
“Don’t play games with your life again. Even to save me,” Glissa said.
“I can’t do that, Glissa,” Lyese said. “And I don’t … I don’t hate you.”
“I know,” Glissa said. “And I know you’re probably not going to listen to me. But I had to ask.”
Lyese’s look flashed to concern. “Slobad! What happened to him?”
“Slobad? What has become of our old friend?” Raksha interrupted, his ears pinned against his skull in a display of alarm that surprised Glissa, who had been under the impression the Kha thought of Slobad as little more than an ex-slave with keen mechanical talents. The leonin spun Lyese around by the shoulders none too gently. “Speak, elfling!”
“Easy, your Kha-ness,” Glissa said, placing a hand on the leonin’s chest and shoving him back. Raksha was so surprised he only looked from her hand to his chest and back. “Haven’t you been listening? Don’t jump to conclusions.”
“Strange things are indeed afoot, my Kha,” Bruenna said. “We must all remain more open-minded.”
“You shoved me,” Raksha said.
“She doesn’t know what happened to Slobad,” Glissa said, “So back down.”
“You shoved me,” the Kha repeated.
“Raksha, you can execute me later. When this is all over, you can bring me up in front of Great Dakan himself and have my entrails read for prophecies. But right now, just … lay off my sister. You’re asking the wrong elf.”
Raksha’s ears twitched, but he muttered, “Certainly.”
“Okay. One of the vedalken took Slobad,” Glissa said.
“Took him? Why not just kill him?” Raksha asked.
“Because as it turns out, I’m not the only one Memnarch was after,” Glissa said.
Battered, cut, and bruised, Glissa stalked the floor in the dim candlelight that glittered around the silver tent. She reminded Raksha of a skyhunter. Indeed, she’d taken to the pterons readily enough when he first met the Viridian elf, though she still needed work on landings. Perhaps there would be a place for her at Taj Nar, if what she wanted him to believe was true.
It didn’t take long for Glissa to get through the rest of her tale-how she and Slobad had fared after leaving Taj Nar. Raksha was stunned. An entire world beneath his feet; a madman at the center of it all. The Kha had always considered himself well-traveled. Indeed, the historians assured him he had ranged wider and farther in his conquests and exploration than any Kha for a thousand years. Yet it seemed there was much about Mirrodin that he had never reckoned. He wondered bitterly how much of this truth Glissa now related to him had been kept back by Ushanti over the years. He and his seer would be having a long talk when he returned to Taj Nar.
If he returned to Taj Nar. Glissa’s story of her travails with Memnarch, from the Guardian’s plan to ascend to godhood to the knowledge that nothing on Mirrodin was native to the metallic plane had dashed most of the beliefs Raksha had ever held sacred. For the first time in decades, the Golden Cub began to doubt that the nim were the worst things fate had to throw at him.
They were the only two still awake-the Kha had dispatched a battered but still confident Jethrar to retrieve Yshkar from the front lines and left Shonahn to treat another wave of wounded. Bruenna and Lyese were both asleep on the far side of his spacious quarters. The pair needed the rest, and with a full company of Raksha’s personal guard standing watch outside, they finally felt safe to do so. The Kha could still clearly hear fighting far off on the razor plains.
“Shonahn knows far more than we do on the subject,” Raksha said, “But my people also have legends of a world inside the world. Dakan called it Tav Rakshan.”
“Tav Rakshan?” Glissa asked, arching one slim green eyebrow.
“Rakshan means Hall of the Eternal Sun.”
“So your name is really ‘Eternal Sun Golden Cub?’ “Glissa asked.
“Raksha is a family name. It’s literally ‘Lord of the Eternal Sun Golden Cub,’ if you must know. That is beside the point, however.”
“I wonder what elves would remember if we could?” Glissa thought out loud.
“The generational memory cleansing. You told us of this. It strikes us as rather unwise,” Raksha said. “But these troll-creatures had actual written records?”
“No, I said they used to. Chunth erased them so I-so we, the elves, wouldn’t know the truth,” Glissa said.
“You described this Chunth as an ally who fell bravely in battle,” Raksha protested. “Why did he hide the truth from you?”
“I guess he never thought someone like me would come along,” Glissa said. “By the time Chunth figured out the role Memnarch wanted me to play in his scenario, all he had time to do was save me.”
They sat silently for a moment. Glissa idly twirled a strand of rope of her black-emerald hair at the end of a claw, and seemed to become intimately intrigued with the fine decorative patterns that ringed the lightweight folding table. Raksha smoothed his whiskers with one paw and coughed.
“This lacuna…it is still there? In the Tangle?” Raksha asked and rose from his chair.
“It’s there all right.” Glissa nodded.
“That explains the new sun-”
“Moon.”
“-the new sun,” Raksha continued with mild irritation, “It’s not an omen, or a sign.”
“No,” Glissa said, “It was an eruption. I suppose you could call it part of the natural process of things. The core just couldn’t stay out of balance like that.” Her eyes flashed with anger. “The lacuna, and the new moon-”
“Sun.”
“-the big green ball in the sky are just raw energy, like the core. It’s pure mana, and it doesn’t have a conscience. But that power, in the hands of Memnarch-that could have been the end, right there. That’s your bad omen … or a warning.”
Raksha returned with two mugs of steaming oil that smelled somewhat like well-aged nush and offered one to Glissa. “Thanks,” she said, and took the heavy iron container in both hands, balancing it on her knees.