Eventually she sat up, fairly certain that any lingering Decians would have given up, if they had indeed stayed to spy. The farmhouse was burning merrily, sending up a black gout of smoke. It would be an admirable beacon for anyone Cor-Ibis might have sent to investigate Avahn’s wend-whisper.
She examined Avahn more closely, wondering what the drug had been. He was looking a little battered, his face scraped some time during the escape. She brushed a wandering ant from his cheek and analysed her emotions warily. A friend who was an Ibisian. She couldn’t imagine using the Horn of Farak to kill him, or Ileaha. Or Cor-Ibis, no matter who he reminded her of.
On the slope of the hill opposite she saw Avahn’s horse peacefully cropping grass. Catching horses seemed a better pursuit than her current thoughts, so she shifted Avahn onto his side so his face was out of the sun and set off to round up their mounts. With the help of the silver ring, she had collected them both and even brought Avahn down off the hill by the time the rescue party finally showed up.
The farmhouse was still blazing merrily, though parts of it had begun to collapse into embers and char. Medair was out back investigating some strange thumping noises, audible over the crackle of flames and the hysterics of a coop of chickens, when approaching hoof-beats took precedence.
She headed back to Avahn, and found him surrounded by horses. Cor-Ibis, worlds better for five days' rest, had already dismounted. He bent to check his heir for signs of life.
"Just drugged," she informed him. "He said he would have known if it was enchanted. Though it did take hold very quickly."
The Keridahl ignored her words, satisfying himself over Avahn’s condition before rising. He gestured for two of the arms-men he had brought with him to attend to the youth. Then he turned his attention fully on to Medair, studying her almost as if he hadn’t seen her before. She noted that he was as perfectly groomed as if he had just stepped away from the mirror, his muted finery pristine, his hair unruffled by the ride. Truly a far cry from the mud and ash-grimed man she had first seen. Keridahl Avec.
"What of those who dwell here?" he asked, turning his attention to the fire without immediately delving into the how and why.
She shrugged. "I haven’t seen anyone, but I suspect that a search among the buildings out back might prove fruitful. Someone’s certainly banging on something around there."
Another pair of guards were dispatched and then Cor-Ibis turned to the fire. Speaking softly beneath his breath, he watched impassively as the flames flickered and died away. Medair suspected that he was annoyed, whether with her or over the fact that his demesne had been invaded she was not certain. The remains of the roof caved in, as if the fire had been the only thing holding it up, and Medair winced at the cloud of ash and tiny cinders which billowed out.
"Tell me what happened here, Kel ar Corleaux."
They walked around to the back of the house as Medair, carefully choosing her words, told him of the well-played trap. It was difficult to decide exactly what line to take.
"Avahn drank first," she said. "It only took, oh, not very long for it to effect him." She paused, because the two guards sent to investigate the thumping had opened the doors of what looked to be a root cellar and several distressed and angry women tumbled into the light. "Melani or her mother must have signalled from an upstairs window, because the rest arrived at just the right moment, moving in ready to fight if we hadn’t helpfully drugged ourselves into unconsciousness." She considered his fine-boned profile. He was following her story without any change of expression, watching the women.
"It seemed that their plan, at the outset, was to take us alive, but I barricaded us out of their reach and their solution was to set the building on fire." She paused again. "I suppose I shouldn’t have told them that Avahn had sent a wend-whisper, or they’d still be here, trying to get us out of the barricade. With time a pressing factor, they chose to cut their losses."
Working on the theory that it was safest to say as little as possible, Medair stopped speaking, and listened in silence as Kerin las Lorednor skilfully extracted the tales of the angry women. The Decians had descended on them at midday, as they sat down for a meal. One woman held her arm to her chest, having made an attempt to fight against their attackers. Her name was Melani.
Cor-Ibis spoke briefly to the elderly woman who seemed to be their leader. Arrangements would be made for temporary shelter until the farmhouse was rebuilt. He did not speak again until they were on the outskirts of Finrathlar.
"Tell me, Kel ar Corleaux," he said. "Was it Avahn or yourself who was the target of this raid?"
Medair lifted one shoulder. "Both, I should think."
"You have a trace fixed upon you."
"I know."
His face was a mask, neither cold nor forthcoming. "The trace could not have been set after you obtained that charm."
"No, it was before," she agreed. "It’s been very inconvenient. I was hoping it had worn off, by now."
Cor-Ibis gazed at her. "I owe you life-debt, Kel ar Corleaux. And the rahlstones weigh the scales further. To continue to question where you choose not to answer is difficult, but I cannot ignore this attack. Vorclase is not fool enough to have failed to ascertain that the rahlstones have been sent on with Jedda. To make such an elaborate attempt in the heart of my Dahlein speaks of a strong motivation beyond the stones." He turned his head slightly to consider the cluster of guards to whom he had entrusted his heir. "Avahn has not such intrinsic value."
"Does a trace dissipate when the subject dies?" Medair asked.
Pale grey eyes were briefly veiled. "No," he replied. "Since the link is to the shell rather than what dwells within." He raised one long hand in a languid gesture. "In a fire, with the complete destruction of the traced…object, then yes, it would be possible."
"But not guaranteed," Medair verified, pleased. She gave Cor-Ibis an apologetic glance. "I do think they came for me, for reasons other than the rahlstones. I didn’t expect them to follow into Palladium, and certainly don’t suppose they will continue this chase, especially if they leave Finrathlar before learning that Avahn and I still live."
"Your escape surprises me," he remarked.
"Luck." She was certainly not going to go into detail. She could only hope his debt would outweigh his no doubt strong wish to compel a few straight answers out of her. "I was close to joining Avahn and then they would have only been faced with the task of smuggling us out. You seem fully recovered Keridahl. Can we hope to resume our journey tomorrow?"
The grey eyes searched her face dispassionately, then Cor-Ibis inclined his head.
"Presuming Avahn is unharmed, we will travel on, Kel ar Corleaux."
Chapter Twelve
"How did the rahlstones come to be stolen in the first place?" Medair asked, resisting the temptation to look self-consciously away at green, sprawling Pelamath, their journey’s halfway point. They were resting a day in the city, a major trade junction sitting squarely on the border of the massive Cor-Ibis Dahlein. Only a week’s ride from Athere, it had once been a herding town called Pelladon.
Cor-Ibis' eyelids dropped a fraction, a mannerism she still suspected betrayed otherwise hidden amusement. Conversation with the man was like walking through a forest full of snares, with the trapper following behind to study her fumbles. She kept falling over questions like the one he had just asked – what she thought of the Simonacy – and having to abruptly change the subject to hide her complete ignorance of who or what he was talking about.