"Even if he is a Weaver."
He faced Cresenne again. "What does that mean?"
"It means, this isn't you."
He frowned. "I don't understand."
"Oh, come now, Grinsa. 'They're strangers to us'? 'Innocent people die every day'? You've never thought such things in your entire life. You've just convinced yourself that you can't leave us here, and you're trying to make peace with that."
"And you'd have me do different?"
"I don't want you to leave. You have to know that." She ran a hand through her long white hair. "But I also know that you'll never be able to live with yourself if these men are killed while you have a chance to save them."
"Who says I have that chance?"
She smiled, though the look in her pale eyes made his chest ache. "This is you we're talking about. If you decide to try, you have a chance."
He gave her hand a squeeze. "It's not that easy. In fact, I'm not sure it can be done. E'Menua wants to prove a point."
"Another test?"
"In a way. Only this time he wants me to fail. He's tired of me challenging him. I think he wants me to try this, and to return to him humbled, chastened. And Q'Daer and L'Norr just want me to go. I think they'd be happiest if I didn't come back at all." Grinsa shook his head. "I'm not sure I should give them the satisfaction."
"But E'Menua must want this Mettai woman stopped."
"I have the sense that he's not worried about her, or maybe he just expects that another sept will find her. No, I really think this is about him and me." He rubbed his cheek where the a'laq had struck him. "Did I mention that he hit me?"
"I saw the mark. I assumed you'd tell me about it eventually."
He grinned. The bruise felt tight and sore. "There's not much to tell. I argued with him in front of the other Weavers, the two Eandi, and a large number of warriors. He ordered me into his shelter and hit me."
Grinsa was still smiling, but Cresenne looked deadly serious. "You're lucky he didn't do worse."
He shrugged and looked away. "I suppose."
She bent lower, searching for his eyes, forcing him to meet her gaze. "I mean it, Grinsa."
"I don't think he's any more powerful than I am."
"That's not the point," she said. "And you know it. In any test of magic you'll stand alone against four of them. Strong as you are, you won't survive that."
"I know. You're right." He twisted his mouth. "While we're on the subject, I should also tell you that I hit Q'Daer. He challenged me after
I left the a'laq's z'kal, said he was going to teach me to respect Fal'Borna ways."
"And you hit him?" she asked, her voice rising.
He rubbed his hand. It was sore, too. He felt as though he'd come through a street brawl. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."
She shook her head, looking frustrated. "Why are you trying to antagonize them? Is there some purpose to it, or is it just some Weaver thing?"
He had to laugh. "Some Weaver thing?"
She smiled reluctantly and shrugged. "You know, 'My magic's bigger than yours.' "
"No," he said, still laughing. "It's not some Weaver thing." He shook his head, his mirth fading. "Really, I'm not certain what it is. I can't help myself. Q'Daer is dangerous, I know. But I think I can handle him. When all is said and done, this is about E'Menua. And I honestly don't know why I keep defying him. The others are so quick to defer to him, even when he's wrong. I can't bring myself to do the same. So I fight him. I don't know; maybe I'm hoping that he'll get so angry with me that he'll just let us go."
"I'd say he's more likely to get so angry that he'll have you killed. That's more in keeping with Fal'Borna custom, if you ask me."
She had a good point.
"But maybe you're on to something," she went on a moment later, sounding thoughtful.
"What do you mean?"
"What did he say he'd do if you found the Mettai woman?"
"Nothing really. He said he'd allow the merchants to live until she's found, but I think that if we can prove their innocence, and bring glory to the sept by finding the Mettai woman, he'll spare their lives."
"But he said nothing about you?"
"No," Grinsa said, understanding coming to him at last. "Nothing, at least not along the lines you're suggesting."
She grinned, her eyes dancing in the candlelight. "I haven't suggested anything. A concubine would never be so presumptuous."
"If we propose a bargain like this, and he agrees, I have to go with the merchants and find this woman. There would be no way for me to back out."
Cresenne nodded, her expression sobering. "I know. But if he agrees it might be worth it."
Grinsa leaned forward and kissed her on the lips, a kiss she returned passionately.
"I don't want to leave you," he whispered, resting his forehead against hers.
"I don't want you to go. But I don't want to spend the rest of my life among the Fal'Borna, and I certainly don't want Bryntelle to grow up knowing only these people. In the last few days, I'd actually started to consider that we might stay here, that we might not have a choice in the matter. But now, with this, I don't know anymore. You'll never be happy here; that much is clear. And I'm not sure I can be, either."
"Bryntelle is happy," Grinsa said. "You told me so yourself."
She smiled. "Yes, Bryntelle is happy. But this isn't the life I want for her, and I know you feel the same way."
"And what about you? You have a friend now. F'Solya, is it?"
"F'Solya is a friend, but even she doesn't know what to make of us, of what she's hearing about our past. We're not like these people, Grinsa. We both know that. So let's do what's necessary to get away, and be done with this a'laq and his sept."
They kissed again, and then Cresenne took his hand and led him to the small pallet, where they undressed and quietly, tenderly made love. After, as they lay together in the soft light of the single candle, Cresenne said, "I don't want you dying for these people."
"I don't want that either."
Her smile this time was fleeting, brittle. "I'm serious, Grinsa. I know you. You'll do anything to find justice for these men. You'll think nothing of risking your life to save theirs. And I'm telling you-I'm asking you-don't do it. If you fail, you fail. They'll be put to death, and we might not get away. But at least you'll be all right. At least you'll come back to me."
"VVhat you're saying is I should remember that I'm doing this for us, and not for them."
She took a breath, then nodded.
"I'll try."
Cresenne smiled again, and this time it lingered. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked it of you."
"It's all right."
"No, it's not. That's not the kind of person you are. You can't do what I just asked of you any more than you can simply let these men be killed. I just…" She shook her head.
He touched her cheek, making her meet his gaze. "I was serious a moment ago. I don't want to die for these merchants. I'll come back to you-to both of you. You have my word."
"And what if E'Menua doesn't agree to these terms? He doesn't care whether these men live or die, but he seems to care a good deal about keeping us here. If you insist that he agree to this, he might just say that you can't go at all."
"Yes, he might. Or he might be so certain that we can't find the woman that he'll take the bargain a step further."
Cresenne winced. "If you fail, we stay with the Fal'Borna for the rest of our lives."
"Right."
She stared at the candle briefly, slowly shaking her head. At last she shrugged and faced him again. "Then that's the risk we take. There are worse fates."
"You're certain?"
"What choice do we have, Grinsa? It all comes back to this: You can't stand by and let those men be killed. So we'll make this demon's bargain, and hope for the best." She rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes. "I hope these men are worth all we're risking for them."
Grinsa wanted to assure her that they were, but the truth was he knew precious little about either of them. In the end, "So do I" was all he could offer her.