"That's right, but he never came right out and promised we were going to win it, or that he was going to do anything out of the ordinary to help us. What he did was let his own priest drop dead when he was through wearing him like a festival mask. I felt awe when he manifested among us-how could you not? But even so, I don't know that I trust him."
Bareris shook his head. "I wish I'd seen him. I'm sure it would have given me inspiration for a dozen songs. But if you don't trust the Black Hand, put your faith in Kossuth, or our own prowess."
"Because we're so mighty? That army marching down there is big, but not as big as it was last summer."
"If we're mightier than Szass Tam's legions, that's all that matters. And despite your grumbling, I guess we both believe the south can win, because otherwise, why stay and risk our necks? You've considered running, and I confess, now that I have Tammith back, I have, too."
"Since I recovered my sight, I've thought of many reasons to stay, but I'm not sure that any of them make sense, or is the real reason. Maybe I'm still here simply because it's my fate."
"Or perhaps those magical eyes of yours peeked into the future and saw Aoth the tharchion, lounging on a golden couch with concubines feeding him apricots."
Aoth's lips twitched into a smile. "Maybe." It seemed unlikely, but he appreciated his friend attempting to brighten his mood.
And he supposed Bareris truly was his friend. He'd agreed to allow him to remain in the Griffon Legion to stop everyone blathering at him, but he hadn't believed he could ever feel as easy with the bard as he had before. Yet it hadn't taken him long to slip back into old habits of camaraderie.
Perhaps it was because, since Tammith's return, Bareris truly seemed a changed man. Or maybe Aoth simply lacked the knack for clinging to old hatreds and grudges, because he hadn't come to resent serving under Nymia, either. He didn't actually trust her, but then, he never had.
He chuckled. "Maybe it's true, what folk have told me all my life. Maybe I'm really not much of a Mulan. I'm definitely not made of the same stuff as Nevron or Lallara."
Bareris cocked his head. "What are you talking about?"
"It's not important. Ready to go?"
They flew onward. A line of blue fire glimmered far to the east.
Bareris woke from the foulest of nightmares, the one in which, as he had in real life, he beheaded Tammith and hacked her skull to pieces.
For a moment, he was the man he'd been until recently, anguished and bereft. Then he remembered that Tammith was back. He stopped gasping, his heartbeat slowed, and he rolled over in bed to face her.
She was gone.
The army had reached Tyraturos at midday. Part of the city lay in ruins, its once-teeming barracoons, markets, and caravanserais largely empty. Hunger and disease marked the faces of the people in the streets. But even so, it had been a relief just to see that the place was still here. No tide of blue flame had melted it away, nor had any earthquake knocked it flat.
Bareris had secured lodging at an inn, where the proprietor's obsequious desire to please masked a dogged determination to sell travelers every conceivable amenity at inflated prices. Since that was just as it would have been in better times, Bareris found it heartening as well. As he drifted off to sleep, he decided he'd told Aoth the truth: Their homeland was wounded but still lived. They could still save it.
But no such comforting reflections came to him now. Rather, Tammith's absence filled him with foreboding.
He told himself his anxiety was absurd. Tammith was a nocturnal creature. It made sense that she'd grow restless simply lying next to him after he fell asleep.
Still, his instincts told him to find her. He pulled on his clothes, buckled on his weapons, and plucked a tuft of bloodhound fur from one of the pockets sewn into his sword belt. He swept it through an arcane pass, sang a charm, then turned in a circle.
The magic gave him a sort of painless twinge when he was facing southwest. If she was in that direction, it meant she'd left the inn. He did likewise, striding through the rows of legionnaires snoring in the common room.
Selыne had already forsaken the sky, clouds masked the stars, and the streets were all but lightless. Bareris crooned a second spell to give himself owl eyes. Yet even so, at first all he saw was a man in ragged clothing, a beggar, most likely, sprinting. Then a shadow pounced on the fellow from above, dashing him to the ground. When the dark figure lifted its head and its black tresses parted to reveal its alabaster face, Bareris saw that it was Tammith. At once she skittered back up the side of a building like a spider. The beggar peered wildly around, but failed to spot her, and, judging by appearances, he had only the vaguest idea of what was happening to him. Shaking, whimpering, he climbed to his feet and ran again. Tammith crawled above him, keeping pace.
"Stop!" Bareris shouted. "Leave him alone!"
Tammith leaped down on the beggar and grappled him from behind. He tried to tear himself free, and she dug her slim white fingers into him until the pain paralyzed him. She peered at Bareris over her captive's shoulder. "What's wrong?" she asked.
"You shouldn't hurt him," Bareris said. "He's a subject of the zulkirs, not one of Szass Tam's rebels."
"He's a Rashemi pauper, and I'm a captain in the council's legions. I can do anything I want to him, and no one will care."
He knew she was right, but it was ghastly to see her this way. "You started out as a Rashemi pauper, and you've endured mistreatment in your time."
She laughed, exposing her extended fangs. "All the more reason to make sure that from now on, I'm the snake and not the rabbit."
He gazed into her dark yet chatoyant eyes. "Please. As a kindness to me, let the poor man go."
She glared, then shoved the man away. He staggered, caught his balance, and bolted.
"Thank you." Bareris walked toward her. "If you need blood, you're welcome to more of mine." His throat tingled in anticipation.
"No. It wouldn't be safe. In fact, you shouldn't come any closer or touch me."
He kept walking. "You won't hurt me. But if you don't want to drink from me, use one of the prisoners."
She shook her head. "You don't understand. It's not that I'm thirsty. I want to hunt."
Apparently, he thought, that involved playing with her prey like a cat with a mouse, and murdering the unfortunate wretch at the end of it, but he kept the observation to himself. He didn't want to reproach her and feed the shame he sensed seething inside her. "We'll be fighting soon. Then you'll have plenty of people to kill."
"The problem is that I want to kill."
"It's not a problem for me. We acknowledged that we've both changed, but we also agreed we can still love one another."
"You believe that because you don't truly comprehend. You imagine that at bottom, I'm still the same girl you loved when we were young. The bloodthirst is like a fever that recurs from time to time, and can be managed when it does. But the vampire is my true self. Everything that reminds you of times past, everything human, is just a surface, like glaze on a pot. That's why, when Aoth was in danger, I couldn't find it in myself to care, even though he's your friend. I need to go away before I hurt you."
"No." He took her hand. She shuddered, but didn't jerk it away. "The fact that you don't want to harm me shows who you really are."
"What I really am is dead. We so-called undead feel the weight of that truth every moment of our existence, no matter how much blood we drink or how frantically we mimic the passions and ambitions of the living to convince ourselves otherwise."
"Not dead-merely changed, and after the war, we'll scour all Faerыn to find a way to change you back. For all we know, the answer is waiting for us in one of Szass Tam's grimoires. Anyway, no matter how long it takes, I'll stay with you and help you govern your urges, and you won't ever turn on me. We'll be together and we'll be happy."