By the time she had returned to the others, the Speakman had come down from his cave to join them. Communicating only through Farshaun, he had signaled his readiness to proceed. Khyber let Farshaun act as interpreter, let him ask the Speakman the necessary questions and convey whatever answers were given. What she wanted was to make certain he concentrated his efforts on searching for the landmarks in Aphenglow’s Elfstone vision.
So now they were under way, and in truth, she felt as if they were already halfway to their goal. They had passed the rock formation she had come to think of as the three sentinels—the trio situated in an open stretch of flatland, towering over their surroundings like guards at watch.
Khyber assigned Farshaun and the Speakman the task of spying out the huge fissure that was the next recognizable landmark in their search. Then she decided to follow up on the promise Pleysia had made to her days ago: to reveal the reason why she had chosen the girl Oriantha to accompany them. Either it had slipped Pleysia’s mind or she had chosen to ignore it, but in either case it was time the promise be kept.
She found Pleysia and the young woman sitting alone amidships next to a pile of stores, once again deep in conversation. It was exactly how she had found them several days earlier, so deeply engaged it was as if no one else existed. She paused for a moment before approaching them, trying to imagine the nature of the relationship. On failing to do so, she walked over, whereupon, as before, all conversation came to an immediate halt.
“Pleysia,” she greeted the Druid, nodding wordlessly to Oriantha. “You promised you would explain to me the reason behind Oriantha’s selection for this expedition. Now is the time.”
Pleysia sighed heavily and nodded. “I don’t suppose I can put it off any longer. I hope you won’t be angry with me, Mistress. Oriantha is a powerful and accomplished shape-shifter. She was born of a shape-shifting father and a magic-wielding mother who fell in love just long enough to conceive her before parting. None of it was meant to happen, but happen it did. And while the father disappeared and has not been seen or heard from since, the mother stayed close and saw to it that Oriantha was raised as she should be—even though she wasn’t able to do this herself. Over time, Oriantha’s shape-shifting ability began to manifest itself, and it became clear that she was gifted with both shape-shifting skills and select uses of magic.”
She paused. “I had hoped to bring her to the order to apply for admission sometime in the next few years—even though I fully expected you and the others to refuse her. The order has never embraced the practice of allowing members of one family to serve the Druid Order at the same time.”
Khyber nodded slowly. “Because the presence of one puts too much strain on the other and endangers them both. You are her mother, aren’t you, Pleysia?”
Pleysia nodded. “Yes, Mistress.”
“How is it that I’ve never even known she existed?”
“I’ve never discussed her with anyone. I kept that part of my life private. When I came to the order, I left her with my mother. She was five years old then. My mother raised her. I barely saw her during that time. I didn’t know when I came to Paranor that Oriantha would inherit both her father’s talent and my own. I suspected she had some ability, but did not realize how gifted she was. I should have been there to train her, but by then I had committed myself to the order and could do little. Mostly, she trained herself.”
Khyber regarded her in silence for a moment. “You have broken the rules by bringing her on this expedition, Pleysia. Why did you do that? You knew it would be dangerous for her. Why did you choose to bring her to us now when you could have waited for a better time?”
The Elven Druid shook her head. “Mistress, please. I don’t want to tell you that.”
“If you don’t, I will send Oriantha home at once,” Khyber declared. She glanced over at the girl, who hadn’t said a single word, but simply sat there, listening. “Oriantha, have you nothing to say?”
The girl’s strong features tightened with resolve. “I came because I wanted to be with my mother. It was necessary for me to come.”
“Did you know it was a clear violation of our rules?”
“My mother needed me.”
“Is that what she told you? That she needed you? Did you come because you were asked or because you chose on your own to come?”
“Mistress,” Pleysia broke in. “Let her be. She came because of something I said.” She hesitated. “Because I told her I am dying.”
It stopped Khyber where she was. Oriantha, this strong young woman who seemed chiseled from stone, had begun crying. Pleysia wrapped her arms around her and whispered in her ear.
“Dying?” the Ard Rhys said softly.
“I found out months ago. A healer told me. I am diseased within and there is no cure, not even with healing magic. I thought to be dead and gone before you woke from the Druid Sleep. I believed I could bring Oriantha to the Keep and, because I was dying, the other Druids would keep her until you woke. Then you might agree to accept her into the order. But then the diary was found, and I ran out of time.”
She looked stricken, as if speaking the words gave power to the thing killing her. That she might be lying never entered Khyber’s mind; the truth was mirrored in the faces of mother and daughter.
Pleysia released Oriantha and faced the Ard Rhys. “I know this is a dangerous journey. I understood what that meant. I went to her and I told her I was dying and there was a good chance I would not be coming back from this expedition. I asked her to wait for me, but she insisted she was coming with me. She said it was probably our last chance to be together. She did not want to give that up. She is a more gifted magic user than I am, and she was quick to remind me of it. If she could not go, neither could I, she argued. So I agreed to bring her with me.”
Khyber sighed. Pleysia should have told her Oriantha was her daughter, but she understood why the Elven woman had kept it secret, fearful that her request to include Oriantha would be denied and the girl sent home. Knowing she was dying, she would be desperate to keep her daughter with her. Khyber questioned the wisdom of including her when she would be placed at such risk, but maybe Oriantha was more capable and experienced than her age would suggest.
She rose from where she was crouched beside them. “I am sorry this is happening to you, Pleysia. But I am worried for Oriantha.”
“I will watch over her,” Pleysia said at once.
“And I will watch over my mother,” Oriantha added quickly. She hesitated. “Mistress, I am much stronger and better trained than you know. I can take care of myself and will not be a burden on anyone.”
Pleysia nodded quickly. “I have witnessed this. She speaks the truth.”
The determination she heard in their voices was convincing. It was too late to send the girl back anyway. They were too far out in the wilderness, and it would be too disruptive at this point to try to separate them.
“Oriantha can stay,” she said.
Pleysia’s smile in response was both bitter and sweet. “Thank you, Mistress. Thank you so much.”
Oriantha murmured her thanks as well, leaning over to give her mother a kiss on her cheek.
Khyber nodded without saying anything further and walked away.
The day wore on and the Walker Boh continued its flight west. The weather was a strange mix of contradictions. Twice, sandstorms blew up from out of nowhere, huge windswept monsters that engulfed the airship in grit and dust and forced all aboard to hunker down with their eyes shielded, trusting that the vessel would find her way through. Three times it rained, each time hard and fierce, drenching everyone in spite of weatherproof gear, passing in minutes and moving on. Periods of haze enveloped the travelers and left them virtually blind as they flew with only a compass to point them in the right direction. Frequently, the Speakman had them change directions because of what he saw of the landscape below, and each time Khyber nodded her agreement, trusting that he would know what none of the others could.