"I'm not certain I understand you, Lord Vahanian." The village elder stood. "We have lived in peace with our vayash moru neighbors for generations. Why should we fear now?" Jonmarc took a deep breath. "There's a small group of vayash moru-led by Malesh of Tremont, one of Lord Uri's brood-who have broken the Truce. They want to provoke a war. They've already destroyed Westormere and Crombey. Our best guess is that your village is next."
"How can we stand against vayash moru?" The speaker was a man a dozen years or so older than Jonmarc, a merchant by his clothing.
"The other two villages weren't prepared. They had no idea they'd be attacked. I have a force of vayash moru and vyrkin who want to defeat the rogues and preserve the Truce. They can't move until sundown-and neither can Malesh. We'll just need to defend ourselves until Lord Gabriel and the Dark Haven guard can arrive." "How is that possible?"
Laisren was right. This is crazy. I'm supposed to be the defender of vayash moru, not showing mortals how to destroy them. What choice is there? I'm also sworn to defend Dark Haven's mortals.
"You don't have to fight them. All we have to do is hold them off. At most, it will be a matter of minutes before Lord Gabriel and my guard can get here. But in those minutes, Malesh's brood could wipe out a village the size of yours-if you aren't prepared." Jonmarc paced as the council deliberated. Mead's Ferry was a tiny village, notable as a target only because it was the closest grouping of more than a few families. They were herders and farmers, with a few merchants who scratched out a living selling to the traders and travelers who passed by on the road. The sun was already low in the sky. There was barely enough time to prepare, even if the council ruled in his favor. Gabriel told me I was wasting my time. I should have slept longer, saved my strength for the battle tonight. But I had to try.
"Lord Vahanian." The village elder walked toward him. "We've reached a decision. We'll prepare as you advise."
"We don't have much time. Let's get started."
Jonmarc knew too well what kind of weapons the villagers might have. Mead's Ferry was
much like the village where he had grown up. Knives and slings, handy for hunting game, were plentiful, but of limited use against this enemy. Few men owned swords, and none were trained to use them. Bows, torches and bonfires were the only weapons sure to keep Malesh and his brood at bay, but fire posed as great a threat to the villagers as it offered protection.
The villagers set a ring of bonfires around the green in the center of the town. Inside the ring, Jonmarc and the villagers stacked as many torches and arrows as they could find. Women and children tipped the arrows with cloth or soaked new reed torches in oil. Jonmarc kept an eye on the sun. He carried a crossbow, and had a full quiver of quarrels on his back. On his left arm was a single arrow in a hand-made launcher, his close-range, last- chance weapon. "Light the fires," he ordered.
The winter evening quickly became warm as summer as the bonfires caught and blazed into light. The bonfires formed a burning fence around the perimeter of the green, quickly melting the snow. "That should keep Malesh's crew from getting in on the ground," Jonmarc said. He signaled the archers. "Watch the sky. We can't make the flames high enough to keep out the vayash moru without roasting ourselves."
From the woods came a distant cry, more chilling than a wolf and wilder than a loon. Outside the bonfires, shadows began to move. Every villager old enough to hold a bow was armed, arrows drawn, ready to shoot. In the center of the green, the children clustered, whimpering with fear. Clouds moved across the moon, but fleeting dark shapes moved more quickly, and Jonmarc brought down his arm to signal the archers. "Fire!"
Bows twanged as arrows flew. Most disappeared into the night, but one of the shadows fell, plummeting into the fire. A blazing figure stood among the flames, screaming. Flames burned away flesh and clothing like paper, and the rest seemed to melt as if made from wax. "Again!"
Another hail of arrows launched skyward. One of the shadows fell in the darkness beyond the ring of bonfires.
"C'mon Gabriel. Where are you?" Jonmarc muttered as he readied his crossbow. "What's that?" a woman screamed from the back of the green. Barely visible beyond the fires, the night seemed to have grown darker. Shadows blurred, and a wind rose, heaping snow onto the bonfires that sputtered and hissed. In the moment the archers were distracted, dark shapes dove from overhead, swooping into the crowd and snatching half a dozen villagers into the sky.
"Hold your ground!" Jonmarc shouted above the chaos. Just beyond arrows' range, the shadows hovered, holding aloft their terrified prisoners. The sky became a stage, lit by the wind-whipped flames. The shadowed shapes held their screaming captives aloft, dropping and catching them to heighten the terror and gain the attention of the crowd below. Swiftly, the dark shapes drew their victims to them, and the cries halted abruptly. As the captives jerked and grew still, the attackers twisted the bodies in their grasp, ripping off limbs and severing heads, spattering the screaming villagers below with gore before letting the mangled bodies fall to ground.
A crash from behind them made Jonmarc turn, crossbow leveled. Three wagons, hurled with inhuman strength, barreled through the waning bonfires, scattering people and burning brands across the trampled green. "Look out!"
Jonmarc dove out of the way of the careening wagons, but not fast enough. One of the wagons rolled straight for him, taking him off his feet. He rolled across it, falling hard, bleeding from gashes along his left arm and leg. He scrambled up, weapon ready. "Weapons out! Charge!" Jonmarc shouted, anger silencing his fear. Half of the villagers surged forward with him, armed with torches, sickles and bows. The others fled in terror as the dark shapes dove and dodged through the crowd.
Abruptly, the attackers drew back. Jonmarc leapt across the scattered remains of the bonfire, and glimpsed Gabriel and Laisren across the broad village street, each battling two of the rogue vayash moru. His crossbow found its mark, picking off one of Laisren's opponents before Jonmarc had to dive beneath a wagon to avoid one of the black-clad attackers.
In the moonlight, Jonmarc made out a single figure near the edge of the fray. Malesh. Jonmarc scrambled from cover and ran toward his quarry, crossbow ready. Malesh disappeared from sight down a narrow path between two daub and wattle homes. Jonmarc ran after him, dodging the washtubs and laundry lines that littered the alleyway. Even in the cold, the dank passage smelled of chamber pots and spoiled meat. Jonmarc caught a glimpse of Malesh in the distance and doubled his speed, although the bitter cold made his lungs ache. He burst from the alley with his crossbow notched, only to find himself alone in a brick courtyard. By the smell, the building in front of him was a tannery. That explains why I haven't seen any rats, Jonmarc thought, forcing down the urge to retch. Three fetid clay pits sat beneath a slanted roof, filled with the tanners' vile liquid. He blinked, and Malesh stood in the shadows behind the pits, holding a small child in front of him.
Malesh sauntered forward. The child, a dark-haired young girl, whimpered in his grip. "Parley?"
Jonmarc kept his crossbow leveled. "Let the girl go."
Malesh smiled. "And lose my shield? I don't doubt that you're good with that bow. No, I think I'll keep her here where she can be useful." "I didn't come to talk." "I have an offer for you." "Your head on a stake?"
Malesh gave an exaggerated sigh. "Nothing quite so dramatic. But you can end the slaughter."
"How?"
"Your fighting skills are every bit as good as Uri said-better. Imagine what they'd be enhanced by the Dark Gift. I can give you that," Malesh said, meeting Jonmarc's eyes. "Speed. Agility. No more pain, no getting old. Forever strong, young, invincible. Let me bring you across and I'll end the attacks on the villages. You're a lord now-you could be a god." Would you be a slave again? Jonmarc remembered Gabriel's words when he had asked his friend to bring him across to join Carina.
"Your slave, until I grew strong enough to destroy you," Jonmarc countered.
"You'd be with your lady. That's why I brought her across-to offer you an, incentive. to join me."
Jonmarc's finger tightened on the trigger. The girl squirmed in Malesh's hold, and the vayash moru tightened his grip until she cried out. "Careful. By the time your arrow cuts through her, I'll be gone." "Carina can't be brought across. She's a healer."
"What was I thinking?" Malesh said, feigning surprise. "Oh yes. The incentive. Destroy me, and you destroy her. We have a bond, you know. Make me suffer, and so does she." "I'm not planning on taking my time."
"Gabriel won't offer you immortality. I will. There are ways to destroy the healing gift. Old books tell of it. Blood charms. Rule with me, with your lady beside you. We're both predators. You
mastered the Games in Nargi. You killed to survive, for their sport. Once we're established, the killing can stop. You've as much blood on your hands as I do. Why not rule like a god while you can? Eventually, the Crone comes for us all." "Because I'm not you."
Malesh shifted, just slightly, enough for Jonmarc to take his shot. The arrow struck Malesh in the chest, piercing through his waistcoat and emerging from the back. There was a blur of movement. Malesh threw the child aside and shot upward, dripping black ichor as he soared into the night. Jonmarc raced toward the girl, who lay in a heap on the snow. Her skin was cold to his touch, and two bloody punctures in her throat confirmed his fears. He gathered the girl into his arms. Her breathing was shallow and ragged. "Hold on," he whispered. "I'll find a healer for you." She stiffened and gasped, then fell silent. Jonmarc bowed his head.
How many people have to die because of me? When does it end? "Jonmarc!"
Jonmarc turned, still holding the girl's body. Gabriel and Laisren emerged from the alley. Judging from their torn and stained clothing, Jonmarc was sure the fighting had been vicious.
"What were you thinking, going after Malesh by yourself?" Laisren looked more angry than Jonmarc had ever seen him.
"We saw you, but we couldn't get free from the fight to follow." Gabriel looked from Jonmarc to the girl. "You confronted him?"
Jonmarc nodded. "He was waiting for me. He used the girl as a shield. I didn't know she was nearly dead." Laisren moved to take the body from him, but Jonmarc refused. "I got off a clean shot-it hit him in the chest. Then he flew away."
"If he could fly, he's not destroyed." Gabriel looked up into the empty night sky. "He's too young in the Gift. But a near miss ought to make him think twice." "How bad is it-out there?" Jonmarc asked with a nod toward the center of the village. "Malesh's brood didn't stay long once we showed up, although from the looks of it, he's recruited more vayash moru to his side. I don't think they meant to fight us tonight-they intended to destroy the village and provoke their war." Laisren's voice was tight. "As it is, about of a third of the villagers are dead, and the fire's spread to a few of the buildings. Your strategy to hold off Malesh was sound-not bad considering what you had to work with." "What now?" "We'll patrol here for the rest of the night, although I don't think Malesh would dare return. Laisren and I will make sure you get back to Wolvenskorn."
"How do we make sure Malesh doesn't come back tomorrow night and finish the job?" Jonmarc looked down at the dead girl in his arms. He rose and led them out of the tanner's courtyard, back through the winding alley to the center of the village. One of the townsmen spotted them and cried out, running to meet them. He took the girl's body from Jonmarc and looked darkly at the two vayash moru before hurrying off toward a group of women who huddled together down the street. When he reached them, the women keened in mourning. "I can offer to move the villagers to another town but there's no way to be sure where Malesh will strike." Gabriel's expression was grim.
"I'm not so sure." Jonmarc looked from Laisren to Gabriel. "Malesh kept talking about ruling 'as gods.' Isn't there a legend about the Lady taking her consorts on a certain day of the year?"
"Candles Night," Gabriel replied. "On the cross-quarters, between the solstice and the equinox. That's only a few days from now."
"The old stories say that the Lady's suitors wooed her with blood offerings to show their prowess," Laisren said. "It might be possible to see the villages Malesh has destroyed as an offering."
"Can we regroup, meet him at the temple with everything we've got? Would the vyrkin join us? Send a messenger to Rafe and Astasia-they have to see the danger." "Uri is missing." Gabriel shrugged at Jonmarc's surprise. "No one's seen him in two nights. He was due to make his report-he swore to us he'd bring Malesh to heel." "Obviously he didn't."
"Uri wasn't among the ones who fought tonight. If Malesh is using blood magic to shield his thoughts, he may be bold enough to try to free himself of Uri's control altogether." "Could he survive destroying Uri?"
"Malesh is at least a century old in the Dark Gift. Uri's not the strongest of the Council. Perhaps. He may have found other ways to defy Uri. Time will tell." Jonmarc glanced up at the sky. The night was passing quickly. "I know this isn't going to be a popular suggestion, but do you have any idea where Malesh might be going to ground? We're not close enough for him to get back to Scothnaran quickly, and if Uri really is opposing Malesh, Malesh might not be welcome there."
"You mean to go after Malesh by daylight?" Laisren asked.
Jonmarc spread his hands to indicate the ruined village around them. He knew that even in the light of the waning fires, Laisren and Gabriel could see his tattered cloak and fresh battle wounds. "By night, I'm at a disadvantage. I wouldn't have to go alone-I'm sure the men of the village would go with me. It might help to release their anger-against an appropriate target."
"The Lord of Dark Haven, leading mortals to a day crypt. Do I have to tell you what I think of it?" Laisren's expression made his distaste clear.
"I would willingly do the same if the killers were mortal. Does that make me a traitor to my kind?" Jonmarc snapped. "I'm tired of the killing. The sooner we end it, the more likely it is that we can stop this war of Malesh's from happening. Look around. We can't keep what happened tonight quiet. We've got to bring Malesh down."
Gabriel met Jonmarc's eyes, and in that gaze, Jonmarc knew that Gabriel understood completely what the suggestion cost him. "You, of all mortals, would do that?" Jonmarc swallowed hard. Even now, eleven years later, the fires of Chauvrenne still haunted his dreams. "What choice is there? If we don't stop Malesh, these villagers won't be the only ones who want vengeance. And when that starts, they won't be choosy about who burns."
Laisren nodded reluctantly. "I'm sorry. I think I know where some of Malesh's brood have taken shelter. We don't usually share day crypts, so whoever's there belongs to him. But be careful-unless you can flood the room with daylight, you're at a disadvantage. You can't win in the dark."
By the time Laisren and Gabriel had given Jonmarc all they knew about Malesh's day crypts, funeral drums had begun a somber beat. "We'd best be on our way-dawn's not far off."
"I'm going to stay," Jonmarc said, following the funeral procession with his gaze. "I'll organize a hunting party-we'll go out when the sun is high. After what's happened here tonight, these men aren't going to frighten easily."
"Do what you must," Gabriel replied. "When you're finished, come by day to Wolvenskorn. My servants will watch for you. Laisren and I will organize the vayash moru and the vyrkin, and see if there's help to be had from Rafe and Astasia. If you aren't successful in finding Malesh, I think your hunch about the temple of the Lady may be correct. It would be nice to put Malesh on the defensive. And if you're there-odds are, he'll come." "That's exactly what I'm counting on," Jonmarc replied.
"I didn't expect to find you in here." Lisette's voice was mildly reproving. Carina stirred from where she slept, stretched across Jonmarc's bed. Dimly, she recalled returning from the chapel and letting herself into Jonmarc's room rather than her own. His swords and armor were missing, along with the collection of weapons he stored above the mantle. Carina took comfort in the lingering scent of leather and brandy that clung to the room. Hungry for any semblance of his touch, Carina had curled up on his bed until exhaustion won out over grief and she slept.
Her dreams had been dark. Images flashed in her mind of flame and blood. Distantly, she could hear the screaming of children and the battle shouts of men. She searched for Jonmarc, but did not find him. Sounds of fighting closed in around her against a night lit by bonfires. Shadows flitted along the edge of the fires, cold as the night itself. The images shifted. Darkness gave way to coruscating light. The light was distant, dim, as if seen from a long way off. A moment before, she had felt the dread of shadows. Now, she feared the light that searched for her. She recognized it from its place deep beneath Dark Haven, and even at a distance, she could feel its pain. It enveloped her as she ran from it, and a torrent of thoughts pressed into her mind. These images were far from Dark Haven, on a windswept plain. Most flashed by too quickly to grasp, but she saw the snap of teeth in the maw of a gray-skinned magicked beast and lumbering corpses dragging their mangled bodies across blood-tinged snow. The light took on the same red tint, bucking and writhing like a thing in pain. It made its entreaty without words, but Carina knew, as the light faded, that it sought her for a reason, for the healing magic that denied her sanctuary in the Dark Gift.
Carina startled awake to find Lisette bending over her worriedly. "Is it morning-I mean, sunset, already?"
Lisette nodded. She handed Carina a robe, which Carina gratefully accepted. "And although you don't care for the mixture, you need to eat to keep your strength up." She managed a smile. "It wouldn't do for Lady Riqua and the others to work so hard just for you to starve yourself." She paused. "You look sad, m'lady." "Jonmarc's made Istra's Bargain." Lisette gasped. "Surely you're mistaken!"
Carina shook her head. "I found ink and a stylus down in the chapel." She looked away. "At first, I thought that I was dreaming before you first awakened me, after Malesh attacked. Now, I
realize I was able to hear what was going on around me, but I couldn't respond. Jonmarc came to sit beside me. He said things. things that made sense if he was saying goodbye. And then he kissed me and told me to wait for him, that he'd come for me." She met Lisette's gaze. "I thought he meant Dark Haven, but he had already made up his mind. He meant the arms of the Lady."
Denied tears by the Dark Gift, Lisette's face showed her turmoil. "Laisren went with him, and Lord Gabriel. If there's a way to stop Malesh from killing mortals and save Lord Jonmarc, I know they'll find it. But, m'lady, Lord Jonmarc will never forgive us if we don't save you."
"I saw the Flow again in my dreams," Carina said. "We have to make another attempt to reach it. The things I saw-I know it had to be the war in Margolan. Raen was right. The Flow wants to be healed. And maybe, by healing it, we can find an answer for me." Lisette looked skeptical. "Even Sister Taru couldn't control the Flow." Carina struggled to walk without leaning on Lisette as they made their way back to her rooms. It was taking all of her will to muster the energy to keep moving, spurred by the knowledge that time was growing short. Taru and Royster looked up as they crossed the parlor, and their expressions let Carina know that they guessed how much the effort cost her. Riqua emerged from Carina's room carrying a glass of the hated mixture. Carina was grateful that Riqua had at least chosen a tall pottery mug, sparing her the sight of the mingled blood and milk. She readied herself, and then drank it down as quickly as possibly, unable to avoid grimacing. Carina handed the mug back to Lisette and turned to face the others, gratefully accepting a chair which Royster pushed behind her. "I want to try to connect with the Flow again," Carina said. "But this time, I want to be the conduit-and let Taru's magic amplify mine."
"Too risky," Riqua replied with a dismissive gesture. "We were just lucky that neither of you were killed the last time."
"It reached out to me again last night," Carina said, wondering whether the others could hear the strain in her voice. "You don't understand-my dreams aren't my own anymore. I'm sure I glimpsed another battle through Malesh's eyes. I looked for Jonmarc, but all I saw was fire and shadow." She recounted the vision she had seen of the Flow, and the images of blood magic. "Please," she said, looking from one to another. "I have to try." Taru nodded. "I'm willing." Royster nodded his assent.
This time, Carina sat in a chair in the middle of the room. Taru stood behind her with her
hands on Carina's shoulders. Riqua stepped back, joining Lisette near the wall. Royster looked up from the old books that lay open in front of him. Raen glowed dimly in the shadows, watching somberly.
Carina closed her eyes and focused on slowing the rapid beating of her own heart. She grew calm, breathing deeply and rhythmically, clearing her mind of anything except her memory of the light. She could feel Taru's magic in the touch of her hands. As she did when drawing energy from a helper with a healing, Carina created a bond, enabling her to pull from Taru's power.
She stretched out her right hand in entreaty, mentally reaching out to the roiling energy beneath Dark Haven. Light flared around her, flaming red through her closed lids. Willing herself to remain calm, Carina opened herself to the light, seeking a way to connect so that she could begin the healing.
Power sparked, throwing Taru clear. Carina heard the others cry out and opened her eyes. She threw up her arm to shield her face. A white wind swirled violently around her, sparkling as if made of powdered glass. The wind rose from nowhere, cutting her off from the others, and Carina gasped as the Flow connected to her healing magic, drawing from her as it had done in the caves below the manor house. Carina slid from the chair onto her knees. She could hear voices shouting as if at a great distance, but within the wind, there was nothing except the howl of the Flow, hungering for the warmth of the magic she bore. A blinding flash of blue light flared, and powerful arms seized Carina, lifting her from the Flow. The blue light moved with them, straining against the buffeting crystal wind. They moved only a few feet before the blue light faded, replaced by an amber glow Carina knew to be Taru's warding. Behind them, the crystal wind vanished as quickly as it had come. Carina collapsed onto the Noorish rug, utterly spent. Thin lines like bloody lace traced across her hands and arms. Though a fire burned on the hearth, she shivered violently. The crystal wind had gone, but in her mind, Carina could feel its lingering touch, and the sense that for the moment, her magic blunted its pain.
Taru lowered her shielding and the others rushed to Carina's side. "You're just lucky Raen and Riqua could reach you," Taru fussed. She laid a hand over Carina's heart and Carina felt Taru's healing magic restoring the energy the Flow had stolen, healing the tracery of cuts.
"I made a difference," Carina whispered as Lisette lifted her gently and placed her on a couch. "I could feel the healing. But it wasn't enough."
"This is getting us nowhere," Riqua fretted. "If the Flow needs healing so badly, it's hardly going to have the power to heal you." "Not now. Not until it's healed." "That's too late if it's destroyed you."
Carina shook her head stubbornly. "We have to try. It's not about healing me. Maybe that's not possible. But if we can heal the Flow, then the blood magic loses its power. I can feel what it's doing to the Flow. It showed me. what Curane's mages have done. I don't think
Tris can win his war like this-with the magic broken and out of reach. There's too much at stake. I need to try again-at the source of the Flow."
"No mage has ever survived that," Taru warned. "Many have tried."
Royster looked up sharply, as if he had only just begun to listen. "But never a Summoner."
Taru frowned. "Carina isn't a Summoner. Tris Drayke's the only Summoner of power-and he's down on the Southern Plains."
Royster's face was alight with inspiration. "Do you remember how Tris kept Jonmarc alive after the assassin's attack at Staden's palace? How he anchored Jonmarc's soul with his power? If Tris and Carina worked together-Carina could open herself completely to the healing, and Tris could tether her soul, replenishing her energy. No one's ever tried it. The magic hadn't gotten so badly out of balance when Bava K'aa was still alive-and since she's died, there's been no Summoner for things like this. Yes," he said, rubbing his hands together. "It just might work."
"It would take weeks for Tris to come to Dark Haven-assuming he could ride away from the front lines of a war!" Riqua protested. "Carina doesn't have weeks to wait." "Maybe he doesn't have to," Taru said quietly. They turned to her expectantly. "We know that this particular branch of the Flow runs from below the Northern Sea down through southern Margolan and beyond. The Sisterhood warned Tris that the Flow runs right beneath Curane's holdings, that it would make the blood mages more powerful because of that." She turned suddenly to Riqua. "How fast could your people reach the Margolan plains?"
Riqua frowned. "At top speed-which we can't sustain forever-three nights." Taru looked to Carina. "I'll help you write a letter. We'll explain what's happened, and what you mean to do. From the visions you've seen, it doesn't sound as if the war is going well for Tris. He may be as desperate for options as we are. We'll set a time on the fourth night-seventh bells-and ask him to link his magic to the Flow and search for you. He knows your soul's imprint;
he must, you've healed together so often. You'll know if he touches you across the Flow. If he can anchor you and hold on before you step into the Flow, we just might have a chance." "This is madness." Riqua began to pace. "Three nights is a guess. We don't generally move so far so fast. I'd have to use vayash moru in relays. The vayash moru who reaches Tris won't be anyone he knows. Why should Tris believe him?"
"Trefor is one of your brood, isn't he? And there were others-both from your family and from Gabriel's. Would they recognize one of their own?" Slowly, Riqua nodded. "Of course."
"Then Trefor and the others could vouch for the messenger-and he'll have Carina's letter, with your seal. I can add the mark of my power, for good measure."
Riqua's gaze was troubled. "I don't like it. But I can't think of anything else and we're all running out of time." She looked to Carina. "If we're wrong about Tris's magic being able to reach across the distance through the Flow, there won't be a way to rescue you. I've seen mages die in that power. It consumes them." She shuddered. "I don't wish to witness that again."
Taru helped Carina to take Royster's place at the desk. Carina thought for a few moments, and then began to write. The others waited as she told the story of Malesh's betrayal and the end of the Truce, of the slaughter of the villagers and her own encounter with Malesh. She wrote of the war that Jonmarc and Gabriel were trying to prevent and the way the Flow reached out to her for healing.
The words seemed almost too fantastic for her to believe as the ink streamed behind her pen. He'll think I've gone mad, Carina thought as she finished her plea, folding the letter closed. Riqua held wax to the candle flame, dripping a red pool to seal the parchment pages together, and pressed her ornate signet ring into the warm wax. Carina added her signet imprint as well. Taru touched the parchment with her fingers, adding the signature of her own magic, warding the note against any reader except Tris. Riqua looked to Lisette. "Call for Temis. He must leave tonight. Bring him to me." Lisette left, to return moments later with a tall man whose lank, dark hair was drawn back in a queue. Temis listened intently as Riqua shared his mission, glancing frequently to Carina as they talked. Riqua slipped the sealed parchment into a leather pouch and handed it to Temis. "Nothing is more important than that this letter reaches King Martris by the third night," she said, folding her hands around Temis's. "We know that Malesh is using blood magic to elude Uri and
Gabriel. Break that power, and we may save the Truce. Curane is using blood magic to defeat the Margolan army. If Jared's bastard takes the throne, he's sure to resume hunting our kind, as his father did. This may be the salvation of our people as well as the Winter Kingdoms. May the Dark Lady guide you."
Temis gave a deep bow in respect and slipped from the room. Riqua stared after him before turning to the others. "Now, we wait."
The night was far spent by the time they were finished. Carina was exhausted, but the fear of sleeping and the terror of her dreams forced her awake. Riqua and Lisette had already sought their day crypts. Royster dozed in a chair by the fire in the parlor. Carina stood near the window, protected from the first light of dawn by heavy curtains.
If I believed Jonmarc would return, I'd have a reason to care more whether or not I survived.
But he's sworn the Bargain. We'll be together. One way or another.
Taru stepped up behind her, laying a hand on her shoulder. Carina knew that Taru could feel the tightness in her neck and that Taru's healing magic could easily read her tension. "I don't think healing is what you're after, is it?"
Carina swallowed hard and shook her head. Tears refused to come. "Too many people have died, Taru. We thought that if we took back Margolan's throne from Jared that it would stop, but it didn't. From what I've glimpsed in the Flow, the war's not going well for Tris. How could it, when magic won't work properly? Now Malesh, breaking the Truce. He wants a war because he thinks the vayash moru will win. And Jonmarc-"
"I've never believed that mortals can bargain with the Lady," Taru said.
"But I've seen men make the Bargain, when Cam and I were with the mercs. They never came back." Carina's voice was just above a whisper.
"Men can accomplish the impossible when they no longer care about their own safety," Taru observed. "Many efforts fail because our desire to survive makes us falter at the last moment. If we no longer want to live, and desire only death with meaning, the unthinkable becomes possible."
"Are you talking to me, or about Jonmarc?" "What do you think?"
Carina sighed. "I don't know anymore. Maybe you're right. Maybe it wasn't the Lady who gave those soldiers their victory. Maybe they were able to kill their enemies because they weren't afraid of death anymore, and they didn't come back because they didn't want to. But Jonmarc knows that destroying Malesh destroys me. He's lost so much. If it comes to that- will he choose to come back?
"I can feel myself dying, Taru. I can feel the magics at war inside me, burning each other out-like this damned war in Margolan, or the war over the Truce. No one wins if everyone is dead."
"Did you tell Jonmarc about the bond?"
Carina was silent for a moment. Far beyond the mountains, a faint pink haze lit the winter sky. "After a fashion." "After a fashion?"
"Did I tell him that over time, healers become bonded to our mates? That we weaken and die when we lose a lifemate? Not in so many words. I think he suspects. It was his idea for us to make a ritual wedding. He knows what happened with Ric. Does he know the bond is one-sided? That it only affects the healer? No." She shook her head. "It's too much in his nature to put himself where the danger is. I didn't want him to be afraid of risking me. It would cost him his edge, and he needs that." She paused. "I didn't tell him because I wanted him, Taru. I've never loved anyone the way I love him, Lady forgive me, not even Ric."
She turned away. "Goddess, we've made a mess of things! Even if you're right, even if Istra's Bargain is just a soldiers' legend, I'm afraid Jonmarc doesn't care about living through this fight. He's got a score to settle, and no reason to believe that I'll survive." She faced Taru, knowing that the mage could see the struggle in her face. "There's one chance of something good coming out of this. If I can heal the Flow, that gives Tris a fighting chance in Margolan, and it might make Malesh vulnerable. If Jared's bastard gains the throne, the kingdoms could be at war for a generation. And if Malesh destroys the Truce, the mortals and the vayash moru will keep on fighting until they destroy each other." Carina met her eyes. "If I can't survive this war, then at least I can play my part." "We don't know what will happen if Tris can anchor you. No one's ever done that before. The Flow is the source for all our power. Even healers. It needs your healing, but it may be able to offer you something in return. There is a chance it could help you heal." Carina looked away. The Flow might heal the damage Malesh did to me. But unless we figure this out before Jonmarc kills Malesh, it doesn't matter. Malesh's death will kill me anyhow. I don't know whether Jonmarc and I have been together long enough for the bond between us to affect me. But if it does, and he dies destroying Malesh, then I'll die, too. Worse was the alternative, that she might survive without Jonmarc. "That's what I'm afraid of."