“And you’d be willing to do that?”
He smiled. “I’ll go anywhere, as long as I’m with the two of you.”
Her face brightened. “All right. Where?”
“The Southlands.”
Grinsa hadn’t been certain how she would respond to this. He feared that she might be reluctant to go so far.
But there was wonder in her eyes as she said, “It’s perfect.”
They had surprisingly little to do in preparation for their journey. Cresenne had few belongings and all that Grinsa had brought with him from Curgh was already packed and ready. Cresenne still had a bit of gold, as did Grinsa, and Tavis had given the gleaner a good deal more, insisting that it was the least he could do to repay Grinsa for all he had done.
“I have an entire treasury at my disposal now,” Tavis had said, insisting that the gleaner accept his gift. “Let me do this for you.”
“I’ve been living off your gold for too long,” Grinsa told him.
“Fine then, after this I won’t give you any more.”
At last, Grinsa relented. “Very well. Thank you, Tavis. I’m in your debt.”
“Just keep your promise, and I’ll consider us even.”
Only two days after Grinsa’s arrival in the City of Kings, he and Cresenne were ready to leave. They had agreed that they would seek passage on a ship and brave the highlands of the Border Range only as a last resort. Grinsa couldn’t remember ever being this excited.
They had an audience with the king in the morning at which Kearney formally gave them permission to leave the castle and the realm.
“Go in peace,” the king said. “Both of you. I hope you find happiness in the Southlands.”
Grinsa bowed to him. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I’ve called Eibithar my home all my life. Leaving it could never be easy. But I’m comforted knowing that I leave it under the authority of such a noble and fair-minded man.”
“I’ll do everything in my power to make certain that your roles in our victory are never forgotten. Perhaps with time, my people will be ready to embrace a Weaver as both ally and neighbor.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” But Grinsa doubted that he would see such a change in his lifetime.
Grinsa, Cresenne, and Bryntelle left the king, made their way out of the castle, and walked toward the city marketplace, where they were to meet Tavis.
“I can’t believe he’s making you do this,” Cresenne said, smiling slightly.
Grinsa grinned and shrugged. “I did promise. And really, it’s the least I can do for him.”
“You’re fortunate that the Revel’s still here. Normally you’d have to go all the way to Eardley this time of year.”
They made their way to the gleaning tent, where they found Tavis standing by the entrance with Trin. The old gleaner hadn’t changed much since Grinsa last saw him: he was still fat and bald, with round, pink cheeks and a sly smile.
“It’s good to see you, cousin,” he said, taking Grinsa’s hand in both of his. “I’m glad to know that all my efforts to get you and this lovely woman together weren’t for naught. It seems I know something about love after all.”
Cresenne laughed, but Grinsa remained serious.
“Cresenne tells me that you saved her life, and kept Bryntelle from being taken away. She also says that you did all this at no small cost to yourself.”
“Mere foolishness on my part,” Trin said. “I’ve spent a lifetime cultivating a reputation as a coward. I’d be most grateful if you didn’t speak of this again.”
Grinsa had to smile. “Very well. But you have my gratitude just the same.”
“And you mine.”
“What for?”
“I’ve heard a bit about your exploits since last we saw each other. I think all of us owe you a word of thanks. Don’t you?”
Grinsa gripped his shoulder. “You’re a good man, Trin.”
“Yes, well, I don’t want that getting around either.” He gestured toward Tavis. “I’ve been explaining to our young friend here that we don’t usually allow anyone-Eandi or Qirsi, noble or common-a second Fating. But he seems to feel that his previous encounter with the Qiran was not all it was supposed to be, and he told me that you would say much the same thing.”
“He’s right. I think he’s earned this second Fating. I’d be most grateful if you’d allow us a moment with the stone.”
“Very well.” Trin pushed the tent flap aside and motioned them inside. “The stone awaits.” He glanced at the duke. “May it prove kind.”
Grinsa cast a quick look at Cresenne. “This shouldn’t take long.”
“We’ll be fine,” she said.
Trin took her gently by the arm and began to lead her toward the marketplace. “I’ll take good care of them both,” he said over his shoulder.
Grinsa entered the tent, with Tavis following close behind. Inside, it was just as Grinsa remembered: overly warm and sparsely furnished. The Qiran, jagged and glowing, sat on a small table, the polished face of the stone turned toward a chair on the far side of the table where Tavis was to sit. Grinsa crossed to a second chair, nearer to the tent entrance.
It was strange being in the tent again. He felt like he had left this life behind centuries ago, yet the heat and the glow of the stone were all so very familiar.
“Are you certain you want to do this?” he asked.
Tavis had already taken his seat by the Qiran.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I just want you to be sure. Most people fear their Fatings. And your first one was rather unpleasant.”
“I’m not the same person I was then. And even if I was, how could this one possibly be worse?”
Grinsa tipped his head, conceding the point. But for several moments he merely sat, staring at the stone.
“Grinsa?”
“You’re right, Tavis. You’re not the same person. Since the day I met you, I’ve seen your promise, I’ve seen glimpses of the man you would become. There were times when that man seemed impossibly far away, but I never fully lost sight of him. Still, even sensing your potential, I never imagined that you could come so far in so short a time.”
“I suppose that’s testimony to how miserable a creature I was when first we met.”
“No, it’s not. I was-”
“I’m kidding, Grinsa. Thank you. If I’ve become the man you and Xaver and my father wanted me to be it’s only because the three of you never lost faith in that promise of which you speak. If it weren’t for you, I’d still be the brat whose future you gleaned the last time we were in this tent.”
“I’m not so sure of that.”
“I am. And I’m grateful to you.”
Grinsa smiled. “Whenever you’re ready, my lord.”
Tavis took a breath. “On this, the day of my Fating, I beseech you, Qirsar, lay your hands upon this stone. Let my life unfold before my eyes. Let the mysteries of time be revealed in the light of the Qiran. Show me my fate.”
Even as Grinsa began to blend his magic with the power of the stone, he watched Tavis’s face, the shifting light of the Qiran making his scars darken, then fade, then darken again. He didn’t have to look within the stone to know what the young duke was seeing, for he had dreamed Tavis’s fate the previous night. It appeared to be, for all that had come before, a rather ordinary life: a long reign as Curgh’s duke, marriage to an attractive dark-haired woman the gleaner didn’t recognize, several children, including two sons. He saw nothing to make him believe that Tavis would ever be king, but he sensed that Tavis had abandoned that dream long ago.
When it was over, and the bright glimmering of the stone had given way to a softer, plainer glow, Tavis sat back in his chair, looking profoundly relieved.
“You saw?”
Grinsa nodded. “Yes.”
“There was nothing bad, at least not that I could see.”
“I’ve told you before, Tavis, the stone shows us our fate at any particular moment. Just because you saw no tragedy today doesn’t mean that your life won’t be marked with some loss.”
“I know.”
“That said, I think you’ve earned a bit of happiness, don’t you?”
“I’m not sure it works that way. Look at Hagan.”