After a minute or two the Kyrinin rose and headed back the way they had come, vanishing from sight.
‘Gone to check for pursuit,’ muttered Inurian. He seemed less haggard and drained than he had in the early morning.
‘They’ll not find any,’ he continued, talking as much to himself as to Anyara. ‘We’ve come too far and fast. None but other Kyrinin could keep to this trail and match our pace.’ He chewed at his bottom lip. ‘Where are we going, though?’
An Inkallim swordsman loomed up before them. He gestured towards Anyara with a deerskin pouch of water. She resisted the urge to shake her head. She was thirsty, and would gain nothing by denying it. The warrior held the pouch as she took a few sips. He offered it to Inurian as well, but the na’kyrim ignored it.
‘Not to a White Owl vo’an, surely?’ Inurian mused as the Inkallim strode away. ‘And not all the way to Kan Dredar?’
‘We’ll find out sooner than I’d like,’ said Anyara glumly.
Inurian glanced at her, as if only reminded by her voice that she was there.
‘That is true,’ he said. ‘That is true.’
‘Do you know where we are?’ Anyara asked him.
Inurian frowned. ‘Not with any certainty. We have been heading deeper into Anlane all the while, north and east. We crossed the track from Kolglas to Drinan in the night. It makes little sense, unless they mean to spend the winter here and I think even the Inkallim, with Kyrinin aid, would not choose to do that.’
Anyara sighed. She caught the eye of one their guards, who was glowering at her, and lowered her gaze.
‘They must be mad to even attempt this,’ she muttered. ‘Whatever it is they’re attempting.’
‘Not mad,’ said Inurian. ‘It makes sense, if you believe what they do. They have nothing to lose, after all. Failure only means death, and they cannot reach the world they crave without dying first. This world is hateful to them.’
‘Why are the White Owls helping them?’
‘That, I would be interested to know,’ muttered Inurian, ‘but I think our unpleasant friend Aeglyss will be a part of the answer.’
They were quiet for a little time.
‘Inurian . . .’ Anyara said after a while, ‘my father...’
His arms tugged the bonds that held them, and she thought he wanted to reach out to her. The cords would not yield.
‘I am sorry, Anyara. We tried to guard him, but there were too many.’
‘Orisian?’
‘I don’t know. I would have given anything to prevent this, but I was too slow, too mistrusting of my own instincts. What gifts I have were not enough. I knew something was amiss, but. . . somehow Aeglyss blunted the edge of my perceptions. I’ve never before wished for a greater, or different, strength in the Shared, Anyara. Now I wish for nothing else.’
He hung his head. Anyara almost wanted to turn away, so clear an echo did his pain find in her.
‘And it is only days ago that I warned your brother against wishing for what is not,’ Inurian said quietly.
They sat together in silence, each of them longing in their own way for the world to be other than it was.
They slept that night in a narrow clearing, stopping long after dusk had fallen. Anyara and Inurian were kept apart. She huddled down, resting her head against a grassy tussock. Grief and despair were writhing in her and she felt close to tears. That she would lock in. They would not hear her cry. A coarse blanket was thrown over her, but it did little to obstruct the mounting cold. She thought that the numbing pain in her wrists and hands, the hard ground and damp grass, the creaking of the trees all around, would keep her from sleep. Instead, her exhaustion flooded up from within and carried her off in minutes.
Time and again she came partway awake, shifting to ease some building pain in her back or arms. Strange sounds, filtered through the veil of drowsiness, reached her: the plaintive call of an owl; the flap of wings above the trees, and once the lilt of soft, unintelligible voices whispering close by. When someone kicked her awake, before dawn had even begun to erode the darkness, the blanket had slid away from her and she could hardly move, so stiff and sore was her body. She felt as if she had closed her eyes mere moments ago.
They made Anyara and Inurian walk for a while that morning. A rider—one of the female Inkallim—went before them, leading them by ropes. Whenever they tried to talk to one another she would tug at their bonds. Anyara felt as weak as she had in the first days after the Fever had broken. They had been given nothing save water since being seized from the castle, and her head was light. She stumbled along, and fell now and again. Each time she was dragged along the trail a short distance and Inurian shouted at the rider ahead until she reined in her horse and allowed Anyara to struggle back to her feet.
Aeglyss came and rode behind them for a stretch.
‘Did you sleep well?’ he asked.
Inurian straightened his back and walked on. Anyara looked over her shoulder.
‘I’m hungry,’ she said.
‘No doubt,’ said Aeglyss, but his eyes were fixed upon Inurian. ‘Did you sleep well, I asked.’
Still Inurian paid him no heed.
‘I need some food,’ insisted Anyara.
‘Your hunger is not so bad,’ said the na’kyrim at length, in a voice now gentle, slow and deep. The sound of his words soothed Anyara in some strange way. ‘It is not as great as it was. A strong girl like you could go on without eating for hours yet, days even. Think instead of the fall of your feet. Let that rhythm be your only thought. Your legs are strong. Pay no heed to your hunger.’
Anyara felt her sense of herself shift a little. Aeglyss was right: there was an easing tempo in the rise and fall of her steps. They were steadier now. She did not stumble any more. She lost herself in the feeling of walking, and heard the rest of what was said distantly and without real understanding.
‘She should be quiet for a time,’ said Aeglyss. ‘My voice has always been one of my better features. I can be very . . . persuasive, but she is particularly easy.’
‘She is exhausted,’ snapped Inurian, ‘and weak from hunger, and shock. It is a childish trick, and one I doubt you could play upon someone wakeful and healthy.’
‘Ah, but I can, I can. I am stronger than you think. But at least now you have something to say. I thought I would have to continue talking to myself.’
‘I am sure you would not find that too great a burden.’
‘Come now, Inurian. We should not bicker, you and I. We are na’kyrim together. Our kind has enough enemies without fighting amongst ourselves.’
‘This is not a fight I started, and I would rather not be reminded that we are of the same kind.’
‘But we are,’ said Aeglyss urgently, ‘we are. I saved you, did I not? Kept the ravens from killing you? The girl they were content to take alive, but you they would have killed in a moment if not for me. Na’kyrim must stand by one another, for no one else will.’
‘Forgive me if I do not thank you for saving me from murderers you brought with you.’
Aeglyss gave an exasperated sigh. ‘I wish only your friendship, Inurian,’ he said. ‘You have seen what I can do. The Shared wakes strongly in me, you can see that. But I am still young; I have more to learn. I have heard there is no one with greater knowledge of the Shared than you. Some people speak highly of you. That is why I came to Kolglas, you know. The Inkallim came for the Thane’s family. I came for you.’