He glanced at Kaede, the only person in the whole camp who sided with him willingly, and jerked his head in the direction of the mountains. He galloped away, Khallayne hanging limply on his horse.
Kaede started to follow, then stopped and turned back for a moment, yanking on the reins of Jelindra’s horse to control the animal. The child sat astride, much more docile than the horse.
“Bakrell?”
Caught by surprise, Bakrell opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again.
“You’re not going to stay here? There’s no reason anymore. We have what we came for.”
She waited, but Bakrell refused to meet her gaze. “No,” he said at last.
“You’re staying?” Kaede was incredulous, but when he didn’t speak to her again, she yanked her horse around and galloped after Jyrbian, leading Khallayne’s riderless stallion and the horse on which Jelindra rode.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The sound of the four horses, galloping tbrough the dry grass, pounding the earth, sounded across the plain for a long time.
“We have to go after them!”
Tenaj was in favor of pursuit. Several others standing nearby rumbled agreement.
Lyrralt shook his head. “If you chase them in the darkness, they’ll kill their hostages for sure. Or you. It would be easy to set an ambush.”
Tenaj’s hand dropped from its customary set on the pommel of her sword. “Why did they take Khal-layne and Jelindra?”
“I don’t know.”
Igraine, shoulders drooping, turned slowly back toward camp, but Bakrell blocked his way.
“Lord, please.” Bakrell fell to his knees before the older Ogre, hung his head in shame. “I must confess what I’ve done. I must tell you all that I know.”
Those who had been drifting back toward camp stopped. Lyrralt and Tenaj moved in closer. Igraine put a hand on Bakrell’s shoulder and nodded.
Bakrell swallowed. He began with his gaze fastened on the ground at Igraine’s feet. “My sister and I are of the last of the Tallees Clan, the clan of the Keeper of the History of the Ogre.”
Lyrralt gasped.
“My sister and I joined you partly because she thought someone here knew about what happened to the History.”
“I don’t understand,” Igraine said solemnly. “I thought the Keeper died a natural death.”
“That is what the council allowed everyone to believe. But Kaede believes there was a conspiracy. And she believes the Song is still alive. For our family, the Song has its own special… music. She hears it, still.”
Bakrell paused, cocking his head as if he, too, were listening to something far off. “I haven’t her abilities, but I must say, I agree with her. I think, if the Song were truly gone, there would be a… silence.”
“Go on,” Igraine prompted when Bakrell lapsed into silence.
“The Song drew Kaede here, to someone among us. But she wasn’t sure who. Two nights ago, she told me she thought Jyrbian was the culprit.”
“So you came here to find the Song,” Tenaj said coldly. “Is that all?”
“No. We also came…” He mumbled something.
“What?”
Igraine put his hand on Bakrell’s chin, tipping it back so he could see his face. “Don’t be afraid. No one is going to hurt you now. What is the other reason you joined us?”
Bakrell squared his shoulders. “We came on behalf of the Ruling Council.”
A gasp went up from the crowd, and there was a surge forward, but Igraine controlled everybody with a wave of his hand. “Continue.”
“Things are very bad in Takar,” Bakrell said. “The humans. Escaped slaves are everywhere in the mountains. When we left, there had already been three supply trains attacked and destroyed.
“There were many who didn’t approve of how the Ruling Council handled Igraine. They were incensed that an Ogre was punished for consolidating his profits. And they have become even angrier that the council seems powerless to stop the human attacks.”
“The council sent out troops to find you. You met the first, and the second, and destroyed them. What you don’t know is that they have continued to send reinforcements. As far as I know, from the last communication from our contact, every one of them has been attacked and harried or destroyed. By humans. They thought that you were using humans for soldiers, because there were so many attacks by the escaped slaves, so many coordinated, planned attacks.”
“And that’s why they sent you?” Igraine asked.
Bakrell nodded. “They wanted information. Kaede volunteered to come.”
“But we haven’t been in communication with any groups of slaves,” Tenaj protested. “Surely you discovered that weeks ago.”
Bakrell started to tell them what Kaede had discovered about Everlyn, and the slaves who’d been guarding their flanks, since after the attacks in the mountains, but he couldn’t. Igraine looked old, immensely tired. His eyes were swollen with grief. Bakrell couldn’t add to his misery.
“Yes, we did. We realized that immediately. We stayed on, hoping to discover the truth of the lost History. And-” He hesitated. “There’s one other thing. Kaede’s-that is, we’ve-been relaying messages for a courier, messages to the council, with maps and information on your whereabouts.”
There was no response this time, no emotion at all from the broken and grieving refugees. They were stunned.
“We don’t know if the messages got through,” he said hurriedly. “We don’t even know if they were picked up as they were intended to be. We’d just leave them behind, marked in the prearranged way.”
Bakrell clutched Igraine’s hand. “Please, Lord, the reason I’ve told you all this is because I have made a decision. I want to stay. The longer we dwelt among you, the more convinced I became that yours is the right way to live. I know I’ve committed transgressions against you, but I want to stay.”
Wearily, Igraine patted his hands. “I can’t make that determination, Bakrell. Everyone will have to decide. But for myself, I welcome you. We have all committed crimes and atrocities. We have all suffered.”
As if suddenly reminded that Igraine’s only child lay cold and dead within the tent, the assembly broke up without any other words, forming into smaller groups. They silently drifted back to the tent at the center of the camp. There they built a pyre for Everlyn’s body and sang their songs of sorrow for Igraine.
Bakrell moved among them. Although none spoke to him, none turned away as he helped with the sad tasks.
Lyrralt took his blankets and slipped away, alone, to the edge of the camp, past the lines of horses and the watchful eyes of the sentries.
Tonight. He knew it had to be tonight. Igraine would be left alone with his grief. And Lyrralt would be able to slip into his tent.
The runes throbbed on his shoulder, itched down his arm. He sat alone in the darkness and wished for a moment’s numbness, that he might be free of the urging of the runes. He searched for the constellation of Hiddukel in the night sky, but clouds had covered Solinari and blotted out the stars.
In the blackest hours of the morning, he slipped back into camp and into Igraine’s tent. The interior was dark; only a single candle was guttering in its own wax, almost dead.
Igraine sat on a mat of thick carpet, his legs crossed, his hands lying on his knees. He didn’t look up as Lyrralt entered, but said, “So you’ve come at last to kill me.”
Lyrralt was so surprised, his hand halted in the act of drawing his dagger from inside his robe. “Kill you, Lord?”
Igraine slowly raised his head.
Lyrralt gaped when he saw that Igraine’s silver eyes had gone gray.
“Isn’t that why you’ve come? Isn’t this what you’ve planned for, watched for, for weeks?”