Stonewiser (64 page)

“To gather not just the prism's power,” Kael said. “But all of the stone of creation's power.”

She had found and wised three out of the stone's four parts. How close had she come to doing Grimly's bidding?

Kael's touch was as soothing as his voice. “Don't fear, Sariah. She can't do it. We have three of the stone's four parts.”

Aye, but the close call didn't make her feel any better.

The stone of creation had been divided, like the Blood, but it was real. The largest part dwelt among the Hounds at the Dome of the Going, to be worshipped. The second part was lost, thank Meliahs, entrusted to Vargas precisely to avoid an ill-intended unification. The third part, recently reunited with the first, were the carved druses, cleverly disguised by scholarly Eneis as Leandro's game. The last part was the prism carved from the stone's center by Tirsis herself, the stone Sariah held in her hand. Sariah knew that Grimly had refashioned it to serve her own interests.

What's pure but stone?
Eneis had said.
What's more credible than proof, more credible than action and moment, but substance itself?”

At last, Sariah knew with certainty what she needed to do to furnish the tale.

Sariah stood up in too much of a hurry to mind her aching joints. “We've much to do.”

Belana clung to her leg. “Don't leave us, little sister.”

Meliahs grant her patience. “You won't be alone.”

Kael opened the door and beckoned Malord, who had been instructed on the subject of the white sister. Malord had seen his share of bloody deeds during his long life, but still, when he saw Belana picking at the piglet's remains, he blanched.

“This is Malord,” Sariah said. “He and some of my Hounds will stay here with you. Do you promise you'll be nice to him?”

Belana sniffed Malord and then tentatively reached out to probe his truncated limbs. “Did somebody eat your legs?” she asked. “Were they good?”

Forty-six

 

S
ARIAH FOUND
D
ELIS
drinking more than ale in the keep's old guardhouse. Several off-duty Hounds waited around for a trade of tastes.

“What do you think you are doing?” Sariah whispered, furious.

Delis had the gall to look completely unabashed, even as she wiped the blood off her mouth with the back of her sleeve. “Didn't you send me to find Mia for you? She is with the Hounds. They went to fetch her. So I'm making the most out of waiting.”

“Would you like some of my blood, saba?” One of the Hounds extended his arm with impeccable courtesy.

“No, thank you.” Sariah managed to smile.

She dragged Delis aside, away from the Hounds’ appraising looks. “For Meliahs’ sake. Why would you take up blood licking?”

“Isn't it obvious, my donnis?”

“Don't tell me. You think that when you offer your blood, your life's continuance is assured in those men's veins? You believe that when you take their blood, they live on in you?”

“I don't know about that.” Delis shuffled embarrassedly. “But you said we had to make allies, and the Hounds are restless creatures. There's no surer way of making friends with a Hound than blood licking. You should try it, my donnis. You need all the friends you can get.”

Sariah didn't know if she should scold or praise Delis, but by any account, she didn't have time to decide. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Of course, my donnis.”

Sariah told her.

“Now?” Delis asked. “My donnis, you're not well yet and the toad wisers—”

“The who?”

“Toad wisers.” Delis flashed a quick grin. “That's the Hound's nickname for the black-robed fools croaking in this crowded pond.”

Sariah fought the smile tickling her lips.

“In any case,” Delis said, “the toad wisers won't let you. They need you. I don't even know if the Hounds will have it either—”

“They don't need to know.”

“It might be too soon—”

“Or too late.”

Delis thought about that. “Do you think it can be done?”

“I think that if anyone can do it, it's you. Something without entailing toxic fumes would be nice.”

“Aren't we getting picky these days?” Delis said. “And the old wasp?”

“He knows.”

“Should I be pleased the man is back?”

“Very pleased.” Sariah squeezed Delis's hands. “I'm sorry if I hurt you before. What I said, about the oath, I didn't mean it like that—”

“I know.”

“You were the one who realized what—no,
who
I needed. You fetched him for me. The truth is that no one has been a better friend to me than you.”

Delis's blue and violet eyes considered her thoughtfully. “Still, he's the one you trust the most.”

Sariah didn't miss the chagrin in Delis's voice. “But I'm donnis only to you.”

“So if it wasn't him…?”

“Aye,” Sariah said, and she didn't think she was completely lying.

The simple sight of Kael warmed Sariah's heart. But it was the warrior in him who joined her hurried march across the bailey towards the Hall of Stones, in command of an escort of twenty Hounds who blended with her own escort seamlessly.

“Metelaus?” she asked, without missing a step.

“He knows what to do,” Kael said.

“So you talked to him? You know about the changes in the Domain?”

“Briefly. He showed me the reports. The rot is acting in strange ways. The weather is crazy everywhere, including here.” He surveyed the darkening skies and inhaled the cold air. “Can you smell it? A storm is coming. It smells like a whiff of the belch.”

“That would be a first. The belch has never reached beyond the wall to the Goodlands.”

“Whatever is happening is affecting the entire land.”

“Great.” Sariah grimaced. “We're all going down. Together.”

“I wish I had the time to study the changes,” Kael said. “All that time wasted dodging foes and friends alike—”

“So the Domainer delegation did find you?”

“Find me they did, although not for long.”

“You got away from them. Didn't you?”

“Not that I don't want to help them, you know, but we have so little time.”

Sariah could see that the land-healer in him was fascinated, curious and eager. But he knew they had to live through today to gain a right to tomorrow.

“What are the odds your plan will work?” he asked.

“Half and half.”

“Not very good.”

“Yesterday, I had no chance at all.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“To secure the tale and to find my son, I would bet on worse odds. So yes, I'm sure.”

They had almost crossed the bailey when a group of Hounds trotted in through the gates carrying an oxen-skin-wrapped bundle. At the head of the group, Sariah recognized Torkel, the keeper's brother. A wail echoed in the bailey, and it wasn't just the wind screeching.

Kael frowned, then slowed down. “The patrol is back early.”

Sariah halted.

Torkel's eyes went wide when he saw her. “Saba, really, I didn't think much of it. It was just a patrol around the walls. He wanted it so much. It's all my fault. I wanted to please her.”

Sariah was faintly aware of Kael's hold on her arm. The Hounds parted to allow her to pass. She came to a dead stop and knelt before the bundle laid on the ground. She took a deep breath before she uncovered the face.

R
ig.
His young face was partially gone and his eye had sunk into his crushed skull, but his irrepressible black curls stirred in the cold breeze as if he were still alive. The wind cut through Sariah like a set of the Hounds’ claws. She didn't have to ask how. Mia and Rig had eroded Torkel's resistance and persuaded him to let Rig go on patrol.

Sariah's heart ached with angry grief. The war. The destruction. They seemed worthless compared to the young life lost. A small crowd was assembling around them. Metelaus had just arrived. The keeper was glaring at his brother with both fury and concern.

Her mind suddenly registered the familiarity of the heart-wrenching wail. She looked up to see Mia restrained in Metelaus's strong arms. Her curls were crusted in blood. Her face was covered with tears. Black flow leaked from her fisted hands. She was screaming like a bolt-stricken fiend. Her wailing haunted the sunset and became the sound of Sariah's most perturbing nightmares.

Sariah walked with the weight of a thousand boulders on her back. She couldn't delay her meeting with the executioners and there was nothing she could do to console Mia. She felt like the coldest wench in the world. She felt selfish too. She would have wanted the child with her for what was to come. But Mia was in no condition to help. Sariah left her in the care of Celia and Pru and marched on to meet her fate without delay. The night had arrived with the storm. When the sun rose tomorrow, atonement would be over.

But Torkel was not easily appeased. He planted himself in her path and offered her one of his claws.
“He who errs shall be maimed from his sorrows.”

“Stand aside,” Sariah said. “I'm not going to maim you because you made a mistake.”

“But saba,” the keeper said, “it's the law.”

“For my honor,” Torkel pleaded.
“What's respect but trust in the blood?”

“I think your anguish is enough punishment.” Sariah sidestepped Torkel and strode on toward the Hall of Stones.

“I'll speak to her later,” she overheard the keeper muttering to his brother, before he fell in with the rest of her escort.

“Perhaps you should have punished Torkel,” Kael offered quietly.

“So you too think that everything we do should be tainted by blood?”

“Sometimes people can only be comforted in their own strange ways.”

“I can't even afford the time to console poor Mia and you want me to stop and punish Torkel? I should have stayed with Mia. Torkel, he is a grown man. Sooner or later, grown men need to learn to comfort themselves.”

Kael's silence diffused Sariah's fury. A slushy drizzle crunched beneath her quick steps. The stink of ashes scented the courtyard. Poor Rig. Poor Mia. Poor Torkel. Maybe Kael had a point after all.

Lexia was waiting for them at the Hall of Stones’ entrance. “What's this I hear? You're meeting with the executioners?”