Weavers of War (71 page)

Grinsa began to laugh.

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

He leaned toward her and kissed her lightly on the lips. “No, I’m not.”

“Fine,” she said airily. “I did my share of gleanings, you know. I just won’t tell you about them. I’ll only speak of them to Bryntelle.”

Grinsa suppressed a smile. “That’s fair.”

They rode in silence for a few moments.

“What possible difference would it make if you were to tell me?”

The gleaner laughed again. “It was a good Fating,” he said at last. “Tavis is going to be just fine.” He looked at her. “Truly.”

Cresenne nodded, looking relieved as she faced forward again. “I’m glad,” she murmured.

He reached out a hand and she took it briefly, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze.

Grinsa knew that he had spoken true. Tavis would be fine, and so would Kezi. Even without him. For so long he had carried the world’s cares in his heart, its burdens on his shoulders. Relinquishing them had proven harder than he had expected. But riding eastward toward the sea and an unknown future, he at last felt that great weight lifting, floating free, leaving him feeling that he might rise off his mount and fly with the swifts and swallows darting overhead.

“Grinsa, what is it?”

He glanced at her, smiling, and shook his head. “It’s nothing. I just…” She was so lovely, as was the girl she held in her arms. His family. How long had he wished for this, fearing even to believe in the possibility? “I’m ready to go home.”

Cresenne frowned. “Home? What do you mean?”

“I’m not certain yet. But we’ll know it when we find it.” And this he also knew to be true, for he was a Weaver.

Tor Books by David B. Coe

THE LONTOBYN CHRONICLE

Children of Amarid

The Outlanders

Eagle-Sage

WINDS OF THE FORELANDS

Rules of Ascension

Seeds of Betrayal

Bonds of Vengeance

Shapers of Darkness

Weavers of War

BLOOD OF THE SOUTHLANDS

The Sorcerers’ Plague

The Weaver turned to Uestem and his warriors. “Fire!”

Pillad felt something tugging at his mind. It took him only a moment to understand that it was the Weaver reaching for his magic and that of the others. He abruptly felt power flowing through his body like sunlight through glass.

A flame appeared in front of the Qirsi army, brilliant blue at its center, bright yellow above that, and orange at its top. For a single heartbeat it was suspended in midair. Then it moved toward the Eandi soldiers, slowly at first, but building speed quickly. As it rushed forward, it grew larger, until it towered over the battle plain like a huge fiery cloud. It lit the faces of Galdasten’s warriors, so that all the Qirsi could see their fear and despair.

Pillad saw Duke Renald then. The man’s mouth was open as if he were wailing, the killing blaze shining in his eyes. The minister almost hoped that Renald would look at him, so that he might know that Pillad had killed him, that he had contributed his magic to this spiraling storm of flame. But the duke seemed incapable of looking away from the fire. He was still staring up at it when the full force of the magic crashed down upon his army, swallowing him and the soldiers around him, blackening the ground, lighting the Moorlands as if a piece of Morna’s sun had fallen to the earth. Renald hadn’t even drawn his sword.

“Fans of Terry Goodkind’s brand of fantasy intrigue will be pleased.”

—
Publishers Weekly
on
Shapers of Darkness

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

WEAVERS OF WAR: BOOK FIVE OF WINDS OF THE FORELANDS

Edited by James Frenkel

Maps by Ellisa Mitchell

A Tor Book

Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC

175 Fifth Avenue

New York, NY 10010

www.tor.com

Tor
®
is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.

ISBN-13: 978-0-7653-5106-7

ISBN-10: 0-7653-5106-4

First Edition: February 2007