“I shan’t be able to wait that long, Ireheart,” said Sirka, her voice choked with emotion. “If he comes back and asks you about me, then…” She wept.
Ireheart stood ramrod stiff at first, then he relented and took her in his arms. Her tears mixed with his own: undergroundling and dwarf united in grief.
“Tell him,” she said quietly, “that I never chose another after him. Even if this is not the way of my people. I know I can never have another companion like him at my side.” She freed herself from his brotherly embrace and dried her tears on her sleeve.
“I shall tell him,” he promised gruffly.
In silence they made their way to the mess tent, where Lot-Ionan, Goda and Rodario were waiting, together with the city-king’s consort.
Opposite them sat the acront, dressed in strange raiment, his head hidden under a light veil. The garment he wore was like the apparel of an ubariu rune master.
The monarch’s wife looked at Sirka and said something to her. “They have been waiting for me,” she translated. “The acront wishes to speak to Goda about the future.”
Ireheart regarded the mountain of fabric with more than a degree of suspicion. “What is there to discuss?” A rush of heat overwhelmed him: he was perspiring from every pore. His body was sweating out the poison. That had to be good.
The acront raised his voice and his consort translated the uncanny sounds; in turn, Sirka rendered the words into the language spoken in Girdlegard.
“He says the ubariu have not yet got a new rune master. He says that you, Goda, should remain in Letefora to guard the artifact until the ubariu have appointed and trained a rune master from among their ranks. He has noted minute cracks in the sphere containing the Black Abyss, because something had affected the diamond’s purity.” She waited until the acront’s partner had interpreted some more words. “Thus it is essential that someone watches and if necessary steps in to strengthen it. It would only be for…” Sirka did some calculations. “… four cycles. After that she could return to her own country.”
“And what if she doesn’t want to?” Ireheart wanted to know.
“You can of course leave. But consider well. A fracture in the protection would mean disaster for Girdlegard,” Sirka translated. “It would only be for a transitional period. All requests will be met; Goda shall have everything she needs. And she will be rewarded for her services.”
Goda sat next to her master, feeling very unsure of herself. “I am not a maga,” she said.
“Yes, you are,” contradicted Lot-Ionan, who had his injured arm in a sling. “You have not received the training but deep inside you are indeed a maga.”
“You honor me to speak so, venerable sire. But at the moment I am not even a famula.” Goda was unhappy. “What could I achieve without Lot-Ionan’s knowledge store?”
The acront spoke once more.
“He says you are the only one allowed to touch the diamond and the artifact. You are connected to both and you are vital. If anything were to happen to the artifact to make the protection sphere collapse, nobody but you would be capable of erecting it again.” Sirka lent the acront her voice. “He asks you to give him four cycles.”
Goda looked up at Ireheart, but he shook his head so vehemently that his short black braid flipped back and forth. “No, it’s absolutely your decision. But if you want to stay I shall not leave your side,” he vowed. “I shall never leave you alone again. And who knows. Perhaps the scholar will return. Then it’s fitting there should be two familiar faces to greet him,” he grinned.
“Then it is agreed,” Goda confirmed. It was obvious that the decision was not an easy one for her. “I shall stay until the ubariu have a new rune master.”
The acront inclined his head and his eyes glowed purple under the veil. Then he got to his feet and left the tent with his royal consort. He had said all there was to be said.
Rodario watched him depart. “So that means that he is not innocent and pure in spirit, either,” he concluded. He adjusted the bandage on his leg. “As for me, dear friends, don’t be offended, but I’m for heading back to Girdlegard in a few orbits’ time. Someone’s got to report what has been happening here, and that we’re safe now. Safe until the next adventure,” he added, stroking his beard. He was looking forward to taking Tassia in his arms again and to relating his own heroic story. “I tell you, the theater tents will be overflowing with people wanting to see these events on stage.”
Ireheart lifted his eyebrow quizzically. “ Tents, impresario? Since when have you owned more than one?”
“ Not yet, Boindil, my friend, not yet. But it’s time I started to expand my little troupe into a theater empire known throughout the lands.” He nodded to Goda. “I shall come back at intervals to get your news, you’ll see.”
“You’ll get lost and end up with the monsters,” the warrior teased, wiping the sweat from his brow.
The hint was enough to unsettle Rodario. “Mm, I’ll have to think of how to get home in one piece. Maybe I should try out that secret path, the invisible mysterious pass that leads to Girdlegard.” He got up. “They’ll be striking camp tomorrow to return to Letefora, I understand. And I hope very much that there might be the odd conquest on the way. There are pretty women on the streets.” He raised his hand in farewell and left the mess tent.
“I, too, shall be leaving the Outer Lands,” said the magus to the three dwarves. “I have the feeling that I am needed back home. It is time to find new famuli and to spread the high art of magic in Girdlegard.” When he moved, his back gave him a sharp twinge again. He thought he had spied Nudin’s silhouette at the doorway, but the dark shape had disappeared quickly. “It won’t be easy to use the magic wellspring at the bottom of the lake, but it will be possible. Tungdil had some brilliant idea about a metal diving bell.”
Goda smiled. “Girdlegard will be glad to have your support. Will you take me on as your famula when the four cycles have passed?”
He stroked her blond hair. “Who knows what you will have learned in that time?” he hinted. “Perhaps you will discover a style of magic all your own. I know nothing about ubariu magic. You will be way ahead of me in that. Even for one such as myself the ways of magic are unfathomable. It likes to keep something up its sleeve. I can only warn you not to be prodigal with your powers.” He stood up and shook hands with each in turn. “We shall surely meet again. And we shall see Tungdil again. I feel it in the depths of my soul, and so my spirits are high.” He turned his bright blue gaze on Sirka. “You will live to see him again. Don’t despair. Look forward to the dawn when he returns to you from the Abyss.” He nodded and left.
Sirka also bade her friends farewell. Boindil let her depart, even though he still had not told her the punchline. It was not the right time for jokes at the moment.
The two dwarves were alone.
“Do you know what’s bothering me?” said Ireheart thoughtfully, after the last steps had died away. “Why did the artifact reject Lot-Ionan?”
“Well, if anyone is pure in spirit then it has to be Lot-Ionan,” said Goda springing to the defense of the magus. “And who expects a magus to sacrifice his life to chastity? I’m sure he doesn’t get up to anything like that now, but I’m sure he remembers what he did when he was younger…” She took his hand. “He is good.”
Ireheart was thinking. “Yes, you’re right.” He let himself be persuaded. Then his face took on a worried expression. “You know what this means for our iron band?”
“We shall have to wait another four cycles.”
He sighed. “That will be hard. As hard as any diamond.”
Goda laughed. “In the meantime you can train me up to be the very best warrior maiden there’s ever been in Girdlegard or the Outer Lands. Your efforts and your noble restraint will receive their reward after four cycles.” She gave him a long kiss. “And we’re not forbidden to kiss.” She smiled. For a second it crossed her mind that they still had to fight the duel she had vowed to her dead grandmother. That could wait.