"I heard what you were talking about, too."
He closed his eyes for a moment, cursing himself for being so careless. "Jynna-"
"Just tell me we'll beat them," she said.
Almost since the moment she arrived in Lowna, Jynna had been closer to S'Doryn than to anyone else. She loved N'Tevva-he knew she did-but he was the one she trusted most. He'd been with her when she first told the a'laq and the clan council of the Mettai witch who brought the cursed baskets to her village. He'd been with her when they returned to her village and found her home destroyed, her family dead. And since she'd been living here they'd been nearly inseparable.
The only point of contention between them had been the Mettai. He had tried to make her understand that the woman who brought the plague to her village was insane, and that she couldn't hate all the Mettai for what this one madwoman had done to her.
But what could he tell her now? If the peddler was right, the Mettai really were their enemy, just as Jynna had been saying all this time. And he and his people would have little choice but to defeat the dark-eye sorcerers and the Eandi who marched with them.
S'Doryn brushed a strand of white hair from the girl's forehead and then bent to kiss her cheek.
"We will beat them," he said. "I swear it."
She nodded, her face so grim that she looked more like a seasoned warrior than a little girl. He saw no fear in her gaze, no hint of the terror that gripped his own heart. All he could see in those bright golden eyes was her resolve and her hatred of the Mettai and the confidence of a child who didn't know any better than to believe a parent's promise.
Chapter 23
THE HORN, JUST WEST OF S'VRALNA
Wake up, Forelander."
Grinsa felt himself being shaken and he tried to shrug off the hand gripping his bad shoulder.
"Forelander! Grinsa! Wake up! Now!"
He opened his eyes. The sky above him was still dark. A few bright stars shone through a thin layer of clouds, which glowed with a faint pink hue from the setting moons.
It took him a moment, but he recognized the shadowy figure beside him as Q'Daer.
"What is it?" he asked, blinking his eyes, trying to force himself awake. "What's happened?"
"I've just spoken with the a'laq," the young Weaver told him. "We have to turn back. We have to return to the sept."
"Why?" Abruptly he was very much awake. "Are Cresenne and Bryntelle all right?"
"They're fine. But an Eandi army is marching this way." He appeared to glance back over his shoulder. "And it seems there are Mettai with them. War is coming to the plain."
"Demons and fire," Grinsa muttered. "E'Menua is certain of this?"
"Yes. He was contacted by another a'laq, who had heard it directly from the a'laq in Lowna, a village to the east. We don't know if the dark-eyes have crossed the Silverwater yet, but it's only a matter of time. The a'laq wants us back in the sept before the invaders reach them. And I want to be there, too."
Grinsa nodded. He still didn't think of himself as Fal'Borna, but his family was living in E'Menua's sept, and he had every intention of protecting them. "All right." He sat up and rubbed a hand over his face.
"What should we do about the Mettai?" Q'Daer asked, looking back toward their cart again.
Grinsa hesitated. He trusted Besh and Sirj more than he did any of his other companions, including Q'Daer. But if there really was a war coming, and if the Mettai had allied themselves with the sovereignties, he might have to rethink that trust. Just as he was ready to fight alongside the Fal'Borna, Besh and Sirj would no doubt choose to fight with their people.
"Forelander?" the Fal'Borna said.
"I don't know, Q'Daer. Everything they've done so far tells me that we have nothing to fear from them. But if all this is true…"
"I… I didn't tell the a'laq that we were traveling with Mettai," Q'Daer told him, gazing off to the east, where the sky was beginning to lighten. "If I had, he would have insisted that I kill them, or at the very least take them as prisoners. But since I didn't…" He shrugged. "If you think it best to let them go, we can do that."
Grinsa stared at the man, not bothering to conceal his surprise. "Why did you do that?" he finally asked.
Q'Daer shrugged, clearly uncomfortable. "As you say, all that they've done to this point tells me that they're not our enemy. I thought it was… the right thing to do."
Grinsa nodded. "I believe it was."
He stood and together they woke the others. Torgan demanded to know why they had roused him so early, but Grinsa and Q'Daer refused to answer until the Mettai had joined them. Once all of them were together, the young Weaver repeated the tidings he had shared with Grinsa.
By now a faint grey light was touching their faces and brightening the sky above them, so Grinsa could see how Besh's face blanched at word that there were Mettai marching with the Eandi. Sirj merely stood beside the old man, staring at the ground, shaking his head slowly.
"So what does this mean?" Torgan demanded. "What are you going to do with us?"
"I told you," Q'Daer said. "We're going back to the sept, and you're coming with us. E'Menua wants all his Weavers with him before the dark-eye army reaches the plain."
Torgan looked at Grinsa, but the gleaner refused to meet his gaze. He knew what the merchant was thinking. He'd been begging Grinsa to let him escape almost since the moment they left the sept. Now he'd claim that with the Qirsi and Eandi going to war, E'Menua was sure to execute both him and Jasha. For his part, Grinsa thought it likely, too, at least in Torgan's case. But though he had sacrificed a good deal to keep the merchant alive all this time, he still wasn't willing to endanger his family or jeopardize his own effort to win their freedom from the Fal'Borna in order to save this man.
"It makes no sense to me," Besh finally said, his voice hardly loud enough for Grinsa to hear. He looked at Sirj. "Why would any Mettai agree to such a thing?"
"Your people are Eandi," Q'Daer said, as if that alone was enough to explain it.
Besh shook his head. "Not really. Our eyes may be dark, but in other ways we have more in common with your kind than we do with the people of Stelpana or Aelea. We wield magic, and for that reason alone we're feared, even hated."
"But you haven't been treated much better by the white-hairs," Jasha said. "Even I know that much."
"Exactly!" Besh answered, his voice rising. "Both races have wanted nothing to do with us, and so we've wanted nothing to do with you. We had nothing to do with the last of your wars and we hoped that the rest of you would just leave us alone. And now some among us have decided to fight in a new Blood War? It makes no sense! None at all!"
"The dark-eyes would have offered land, perhaps gold," Q'Daer said. "They'd pay handsomely to meet our magic with yours."
"I don't care what they offered," Besh said. "The cost is too high."
"I agree with you," Q'Daer said. "But the fact remains that your people and mine are going to war. We have to return to our sept, but you don't. You should leave here. You should return to your village. You'll be far safer there."
"Wait!" Torgan said, his one eye growing wide. "You're going to let them go, but not us?"
"They killed the woman who cursed those baskets," Q'Daer said. "And an a'laq has named them a friend of all Fal'Borna people. They've earned their freedom and then some."
"And I haven't. Is that what you're saying?"
Q'Daer regarded him briefly, his expression mild. "Yes, I suppose it is. Gather your belongings," he told both of the Eandi, "and eat something. We'll be leaving shortly."
The young Weaver walked back to his sleeping roll. After a moment Torgan and Jasha turned and walked away as well, leaving Grinsa with the two Mettai.
"It seems we'll be parting company," Grinsa said. "I'm sure you're eager to be returning to your home, but I'm sorry we won't have more time together. I've enjoyed our conversations."