The thought was sobering enough to bring him to a stop. Corfe bumped against his back.
“What is it, Telenar?”
Telenar looked at his young face. His shaved head was starting to grow bristles and his eyes were red from lack of sleep. Telenar wondered if he looked just as bad.
“Corfe,” he said, scarcely believing what he was saying, “I’m not sure I should leave. Not yet.”
Corfe shifted. He was no coward, but he wasn’t prepared to face the Chasmites, let alone Zyreio. “Telenar, if we don’t go, I don’t think we’re going to get another chance. Think of N’vonne.”
He looked so scared that Telenar forgot about his own troubles and laid a hand on his shoulder. “I believe I am thinking of her. Which is why I need you to go down and tell her that I’ve decided to stay with Vancien. Tell her I love her and. . .” Despite his best efforts, his eyes filled up with tears. “Just tell her I love her and I’ll see her soon,” he concluded gruffly.
Corfe nodded. “Maybe I should stay with you?” he asked without conviction.
“No. There’s no need for that. You had better get going. Remember to find N’vonne the first thing you do.”
“Of course.” Corfe tried not to show how grateful he was to have a mission that would justify his retreat.
There was an awkward pause, then Corfe nodded again and ran to catch up with the evacuees. Telenar took off at a jog toward the south-east gate, praying that he was not too late.
__________
Three men and a fennel stood on the East Wall and watched the last Risen One fall under a Chasmite blade. The second it happened, it seemed that the entire Obsidian army knew it. They stopped surging forward and began cavorting like fiends, dancing and shouting. Perhaps it was just a reflection of his own grief, but Vancien imagined that he could also hear wails of despair. It was the most horrible cacophony any of them had ever heard. Bedge curled up beside the battlement wall, quivering.
Amarian knelt down beside her. “Shh, Bedge,” he soothed, smoothing her brown and tan swirls until they shone. “Remember the light-god. He won’t abandon us.”
Bedge continued to shake, so he scooped her up in his arms. Vancien and Chiyo paid him no attention; their eyes were fixed on the grim celebration. But just as Amarian was about to suggest they take refuge somewhere, Vancien pointed.
“Look there.”
Chiyo pulled out his range glass. “Where?”
“There, about a hundred yards past the gate. Who is that?”
“It’s Kynell. What’s he doing?”
“No idea.”
By now, both Amarian and Bedge were looking. Bedge perched her furry paws on the stone wall, her eyes round. The Obsidian army continued its celebration, oblivious to the solitary figure in front of them.
“Is that the light-god?”
Chiyo nodded, passing the range glass to Amarian.
“Looks like he’s building something.”
It was true. Kynell was pulling together pieces of the useless traps, disarming them and arranging them in a line. Then he disappeared into the gate for a moment, only to reappear with a few planks of wood, which he balanced on the traps. They watched this procedure continue until he had produced a rough table. He had dug up his first chair by the time Vancien proposed that they go to him. The others agreed.
On the way, they saw Telenar huffing and puffing down a side street. When he caught sight of them, he looked mightily relieved. “Vancien! Thank Kynell you’re safe! N’vonne would never forgive me if. . .well, it’s good to see you all.”
Vancien had never been so happy to see him. “Telenar! You came back for us!” Before the priest knew it, he was swallowed in a great hug and receiving multiple pats on the back. Even Bedge purred and rubbed up against his legs.
“All right,” he said, attempting to pull himself free. “Now we can all go to glory together. Which I guess is where we’re going, because I haven’t seen a Risen One since I started back. Where are you all running to?”
They told him about Kynell building the table, which piqued his curiosity just as it had theirs. “And what about the Chasmites?”
“They’re just standing there celebrating. They haven’t moved toward the city since they defeated—” Chiyo cut himself off. “Anyway, we’d better hurry. They could start at any time.”
When they reached the gate, Kynell was still there. He had managed to assemble nine chairs around the table. To their amazement, he had also found some food—not dried meatsticks and bread but a feast of roast, vegetables, savory puddings, and pitchers of a delicate pink juice made near Vancien and Amarian’s hometown. All five of them, including Bedge, stopped, at the gate. Kynell was just putting the finishing touches on the table settings when he saw them. He polished a fork on his tunic, which was now quite clean, and set it to next to a plate before gesturing for them to come over.
Cautiously, they stepped outside beyond the wall. The invading army remained at a distance, persisting in its blind celebration. Bedge was the first to act with any eagerness; she trotted out in front of them, purring loudly. Amarian tried to keep up with her while keeping a careful distance. When she reached Kynell, she pressed herself up against his legs. Amarian himself arrived half a second later. Vancien came right after him, with Telenar and Chiyo behind.
“My Lord,” Vancien began, waving an arm toward the army. “What are you doing?”
“Hello, hello, hello,” was Kynell’s only response as they all gathered in an uncertain semicircle. “I’m glad you could come enjoy my feast. Some others should be arriving soon, I expect.”
No sooner had the words come out of his mouth than they saw four figures emerge from the trees to their right. As they drew nearer, Vancien recognized Sirin and two of the children he had rescued, plus another munkke-trophe. The newcomers looked just as confused as they were, but Kynell greeted them in the same way, asking them all if they would be willing to stand for a bit until the last two guests arrived.
Vancien stole a look at Telenar. Last two guests? What was he talking about? He had no idea how long Obsidian’s army would continue its absurd celebration but it could not be long. In fact, he thought he saw an ominous character pacing in front of the soldiers, vainly trying to bring them back to order. Kynell followed his gaze.
“Oh, yes. He’ll be trying that maneuver for a while. Isn’t it true how evil fails to control itself, let alone overcome the good?”
Vancien and the others nodded absently as they watched yet two more figures appear from the midst of the Chasmite crowd. They were not too surprised to see Gair, but there was a collective gasp as Verial came into view. She was holding Gair’s hand.
Kynell clapped his hands. “Wonderful! We’ll just give them a moment to reach us. . .There!” he proclaimed, as Gair and Verial arrived, looking around for an explanation. None of them had a clue what was going on, except perhaps for Bedge.
“If you please,” Kynell was saying, having rolled up his worn sleeves. “Would all the men and women find a seat?” He tilted his head to Sirin, the other munkke-trophe, and Bedge, who had gathered into a knowing little group. “You three have done remarkably. Your reward will come later.”
Sirin nodded and to Vancien’s surprise, made no move to take a seat. Vancien would have asked about this, except that the munkke-trophe did not appear to take offense and Kynell was already motioning for them to get started.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Kynell went on. “You are probably all wondering why we’re gathered here in this, ah, open setting.”
They stared at him.
“If you will allow me,” he continued, taking up Amarian’s plate and beginning to heap it with food. “You must be starving. Here, try some of the beans.”
Amarian was so unnerved that he could not object, nor could the others as Kynell went around the table, filling their plates.
In the end, it was Chiyo who found his voice. “My Lord, what are we doing here?”
Chiyo’s words had a profound effect on Gair, Verial, Teehma, and Lucio. None of them had known of Kynell’s arrival, and certainly none of them expected to see their god in person. Even now, the title “my Lord” could not bring them to the conclusion that they were actually seeing him. It was too far-fetched an idea to occur to them. But they did begin to look on him as if he were a messenger from the realm of the Prysm, which was awe-inspiring enough.
Kynell finished the last plate and sat down, not bothering to fill his own. In the midst of his hosting activities, he had appeared very calm and efficient. Now that he was seated, he exhibited great authority. He was in command of the situation, strange though the situation was.
“You’ve always been one to get straight to the point, General Chiyo. It is one of your great strengths, though occasionally it blinds you.”
Chiyo frowned, but Telenar took a tentative bite of his pudding. “You set a fine table, my Lord. Although I admit that I’m amazed we can eat like this with Obsidian’s army breathing down our necks.” Then he choked at a sudden thought: Zyreio would not be above deceiving their eyes and ears. “This isn’t. . .”
Kynell’s face darkened. If Telenar had wanted to imply the wrong thing, he had succeeded. “I am disappointed, Telenar. After all these cycles together, and these past few days in the streets of Lascombe, you think I would be part of an Obsidian trick?”
“You are from Kynell,” Gair whispered.
Kynell nodded.
“But you can’t be one of them Risen Ones!” Lucio interrupted. It was the first he had spoken since they had left the trees. The tantalizing food had shut down his awareness of anything else for a time. Now, he spoke with sudden urgency, gravy dripping down his chin. “We saw all of ‘em get cut down by the Chasmites!”
Kynell nodded again. “I am sorry you had to see that. It will help you to know that the ones you call Risen have returned to me. Their mission has been accomplished, though it may not seem like it.”
Gair had started muttering to himself. He had watched the Risen Ones ride out to battle—they had been glorious. But was there some sort of chief Risen One he didn’t know about? And why would they return to him? As he tried to reason it out, he could feel his heart slowing down beat by beat until it stopped at the only solution. “You’re not
from
Kynell, are you?”
Kynell watched him, waiting.
Then, slowly, like an old man, Gair pushed back his chair and dropped painfully to his knees. Lucio, catching on, did the same and before long, they were all—even the ones who had known him in the city—kneeling before him. Their questions were momentarily forgotten; now, even in the shadow of Obsidian’s celebration, it felt right to give him homage.
Only Teehma had not moved. She sat there, spoon in hand, watching him.
“What are they doing?” she asked, although she was intelligent enough to suspect what was going on.
He turned to her. “Why are you confused, child?”
She flushed a deep red and set down her spoon. “They seem to know you, sir. But I don’t think we’ve met.”
“Haven’t we?”
“How could I want to meet you if I don’t know who you are?”
He did not answer her question. Instead, he told the others to get up and resume their seats. “There is much to discuss,” he said, picking up the pudding to help them to a second round.
Vancien had turned frightfully pale as the immensity of Kynell’s coming pulled again at him. “Lord, what are you doing? We should be serving you!”
“Sit down, Vance,” Kynell responded. “I’m going to serve you today—trust me, you will soon be serving others.”
Gair was grinning ear to ear and eating heartily with his left hand. For the first time that he could remember, he felt whole. With his right, he squeezed Verial’s hand. She leaned over and whispered to him.
“I should not be here,” she said. “We’ve just come from Zyreio!”
“My dear, none of us should be here! Look at him!” He nodded in Kynell’s direction. “He’s here—actually here with us! Do you think any of us deserve that? But I can’t think of a better place to be after being so close to Obsidian.”
Verial did not respond. Instead, she stewed the food around her plate.
Kynell arrived to deliver more pudding. He raised an eyebrow at her full plate.
“Come with me.”
She followed. She was accustomed to obeying divine commands, and though she was beginning to prefer him, she was not convinced that Kynell was much different than Zyreio. He led her several paces away from the table. Only then did she notice that Teehma had followed them.
Kynell asked her and Teehma to sit down on the grass before taking his place next to them. “My girls,” he began, “I would love to have you sit at my table with me. But there is something that prevents it.”
Verial hung her head. The moment had finally come. She could feel her past overtaking her. The sea of her selfish choices seemed endless and now Kynell was going to call her on it, as he had every right to do. Still, it would be hard to be sent away from him, and from Gair. Where else could she go but back to Zyreio?
“Verial,” his voice cut through her thoughts. “Look at me.”
She dared not. Of course he already knew all that she had done, yet to look at him seemed like an open confession.