Corson paced restlessly about the chamber where Nyctasia had lain all that day, motionless, never waking, hardly seeming to draw breath. To Corson she looked paler and more fragile than ever.
The mirror, cracked and blood-stained, gave back to her a crazed reflection of herself each time she passed by. She found herself trying to avoid the sight of it. Shiastred’s cloak still lay at the foot of the table and she kicked it aside, then, puzzled, picked it up. The material was all of a piece-there was not a seam or stitch to show that it had ever been torn. With a shudder, she dropped it over the broken mirror.
Nyctasia opened her eyes and sat up, looking around her in bewilderment. She smiled when she saw Corson. “You’re still here, then, my Corson? I’d have thought you’d be on your way to the coast by now.”
Corson crossed over to her. “It was only this morning you knocked yourself senseless.”
“So it was… it seems a long time ago.”
“But I would be on my way if you could stay out of trouble for half a day.”
“You needn’t worry about me,” Nyctasia said, taking Corson’s hand. “I’m all right now. There’s nothing to keep you here.”
Corson hesitated. “Well, and what’s to keep you here? Why don’t you come with me?”
“You know I dare not show my face near Rhostshyl.”
“But I’ve a long way to go before I even reach Mehomne-I don’t mean to cross that rutting forest again! And you ought to see something of the world before you wall yourself up in some wizard’s den. Besides, you could profit from lessons in sword fighting,” Corson reminded her.
Nyctasia toyed absently with one silver earring. “There’s something in what you say,” she mused.
“We could go south to the Edonaris vineyards and visit your relatives on the way, if you like.” She saw a flicker of interest light Nyctasia’s wan features.
“That is tempting,” she admitted.
“Well, we shouldn’t lose any time-I want to reach Lhestreq before the turn of the season. Ships are scarce once the rough weather sets in.”
“Will tomorrow suit you?”
“We can’t get away from here too soon to suit me. But are you fit to travel?”
Nyctasia lay back against the pillows. “I will be.”
Corson bowed low. “With your permission, then, my lady, I shall leave you to your repose.”
“Corson… I had reason to act the lady with you as I did. The Influences at work here could have destroyed you. Don’t you see, I had to drive you away for your own sake, and what better way to do it than to offend your pride? And it worked, but then you came back… I warned you not to interfere… when you attacked me. ’Ben knew you for Kastenid’s pawn. He had to deal with you quickly, before Kastenid could recover.”
Corson was unconvinced, but she knew it was useless to argue with Nyctasia.
“What does it matter now? He’s dead, Nyc, forget him.”
Nyctasia hesitated. “Well… he’s gone.”
“But isn’t he dead?” cried Corson, not concealing her dismay.
Nyctasia looked up at her with a ghost of her old mischievous manner. “I can explain-” she offered.
“Not if I know it!” Corson protested, and hurried from the chamber.
“I cannot stay here.” Nyctasia finished looking through the books she’d brought from Rhostshyl. She chose only one, and put it back in her satchel, “I’m no longer as sure as I was, what sacrifices I’m willing to make. I must decide that alone, Kastenid-away from the Yth and its temptations.”
And how to find ’Ben unless she took up her travels again? But she kept her own counsel as to that.
“Don’t you see that together we could hold this place without making the compromises Shiastred was driven to?” he urged.
“If I’d been with him he’d not have been forced to pay that price! But the city was in chaos-I hoped I could prevent a civil war if I stayed. But I only made more enemies for myself, and I failed ’Ben when I knew that he needed me here.
You’re well rid of me, I tell you-I’m poison to those who trust me!”
“You do not know yourself, Nyctasia, but I have tested you, and I know your true worth. There’s no need for you to run away again-you’re making a mistake.”
“I’ve made many,” Nyctasia said bitterly. “I’m sorry.” She turned away from him abruptly. “Will you keep these books for me? I daresay you can make use of them.”
“Done.”
Nyctasia wrapped Shiastred’s long cloak about her, then took up the black harp and hung it at her back. “I may need this,” she said tightly. “Perhaps I’ll have to make my way as a minstrel.”
“Nyc!” Carson shouted from below, “I’m waiting for you! I told you I want to get an early start.”
“Yes, I’m coming,” Nyctasia called to her. “I’m ready now.”