They set off at midmorning, following the road south.
Despite Seregil's misgivings, it felt good to be riding with Micum again. Every so often the two of them would find themselves out ahead of the others, and for a while it was like old times: the two of them off on a mission for Nysander, or pursuing some harebrained quest of their own for the sheer hell of it.
But then the sun would strike silvery glints in his old friend's hair, or he'd catch sight of Micum's crippled leg, stiff in the stirrup, and Seregil's exhilaration evaporated again into a twinge of guilty sadness.
Micum's was not the first generation he'd outlive, but it didn't get any easier with experience. In Skala, among these Tir he loved, only the wizards endured, and even they could be killed.
Now and then he caught Micum watching him with a bemused expression that suggested he was having similar thoughts, but he seemed to accept the situation. It was Seregil who'd quietly drop back to find Alec, like a cold man seeking a fire.
The roads grew drier as they turned west the next day, and the rolling plains were already thick with crocus and yellowstar. Trusting the clear nights, they rode long and slept rough, letting the horses forage as they went.
Except for the number of troops they met, Seregil found it hard to imagine the terrible war that was being waged on land and sea. Talking with Beka's riders soon brought the reality of the situation home to him, however. He recognized only four of Rhylin's ten riders: Syra, Tealah, Tare, and Corporal Nikides, who'd aged into a man since they'd met, as well as acquiring a jagged white scar down his right cheek. The other six were new to the turma, replacements for those who'd fallen in battle.
"Well, Beka, I always knew you'd amount to something," Seregil said as the group sat around the fire their second night on the road. "Right hand to Commander Klia? That's a mark of real favor."
"It gets them out of harm's way for a bit, too," Micum added.
Beka shrugged noncommittally. "We've earned it."
"We've lost a lot of people since you last saw us, my lord," Sergeant Rhylin remarked, stretching the day's stiffness from his
legs. "You recall the two men who were planked? Gilly lost a hand and went home, but Mirn healed up fine; he and Steb are in Braknil's decuria now."
"We lost Jareel at Steerwide Ford a day after we got back," Nikides put in. "And remember Kaylah? She died scouting an enemy camp."
"She had a lover in the turma, didn't she?" asked Alec, and Seregil smiled to himself.
Alec had been more taken with the idea of soldiering than he'd ever let on and had formed quite a bond with Beka's riders in the short time they'd known one another in Rhiminee, and later during the dark days in Plenimar.
Nikides nodded. "Zir. He took it hard, but you have to go on, don't you? He's Mercalle's corporal now."
"Sergeant Mercalle?" Seregil looked up in surprise. Mercalle was an experienced old soldier, one of the sergeants who'd helped train Beka and then requested the honor of serving with her when she was given a command. "I thought you lost her in the first battle of the war?"
"So did we," replied Beka. "She went down under her horse and broke both arms and a leg, along with a few ribs. But she tracked us down again before the snow flew that fall, ready to fight."
"We were lucky to get her back," said Corporal Nikides, "She fought with Phoria herself in their younger days."
"She and Braknil have seen us through some dark days," Beka added. "By the Flame, their lessons have saved us a time or two!"
Never one to waste valuable time, Seregil spent much of the journey drilling Alec and anyone else who cared to listen on the clans of Aurenen: their emblems, customs, and most importantly, their affiliations. Alec took in the information with all his usual quickness.
"Only eleven principal clans?" he'd scoffed when someone else complained at the complexities of Aurenfaie politics. "Compared to dealing with Skalan nobility, that's no worse than your mother's market list."
"Don't be too certain," warned Seregil. "Sometimes those eleven feel more like eleven hundred."
Beka and the others also saw to it that Alec brushed up his swordplay. He was soon bruised but happy to be reclaiming his hard-won skills.
Seregil pointedly ignored the hopeful glances they cast in his direction during these sessions.
They met with columns of soldiers more frequently as they neared the coast and from them learned that Plenimaran ships now controlled much of the Inner Sea's northeastern waters, and that raids on eastern Skalan were increasing. Skala still held crucial control of the isthmus and canal, but the pressure was mounting.
News of the land battles was more encouraging. According to an infantry captain they met just north of Cirna, Skalan troops held the Mycenian coastline as far west as Keston, and had pushed east to the Folcwine River. As Seregil had long ago predicted, however, the Plenimaran Overlord had extended his influence into the northlands and was gradually seizing control of the trade routes there.
"Have they taken Kerry?" Alec asked, thinking of his home village in the Ironheart Mountains.
"Don't know Kerry," the captain replied, "but I've heard rumors that Wolde's gone over to them."
"That's bad," Seregil muttered.
Wolde was an important link in the Gold Road, the caravan route between Skala and the north. If the Plenimarans captured the north's iron, wool, gold, and timber at their source, it wouldn't matter if Skala held the Folcwine; there'd be no more goods coming downriver.
They reached the isthmus on the third day and crossed the echoing chasm of the great Cirna Canal. Following the Queen's Highroad west, they came in sight of the little village of Ardinlee just before sunset.
Micum reined in to take his leave where the road branched and Seregil felt again that gulf of change and distance.
Beka leaned over to hug her father. "Give my love to Mother and the others."
"I will." Turning to Alec and Seregil, he grinned ruefully. "Since I can't come with you, I'll just have to trust you three to keep each other out of trouble down there. I hear the 'faie are persnickety about foreigners."
"I'll keep that in mind," Seregil replied dryly.
With a final wave, Micum turned his horse south and galloped away.
Seregil remained for a moment, watching his old companion disappear into the evening's dusty haze.
Klia was camped at a prosperous estate just south of the village. Riding through a vineyard, they found Sergeant Mercalle on guard at the front door of the house. She saluted Beka smartly as they rode up, then gave Alec a welcoming wink. Despite her injuries she stood as straight at fifty as the young soldiers on duty beside her.
"Well met, my lords," she greeted them as they dismounted. "I haven't seen you since that fancy send-off you gave us back in Rhiminee."
Seregil grinned. "I remember the early part of the evening, but not much later on."
"Ah, yes." She feigned disapproval. "Thanks to you, most of my riders were carrying sore heads the next morning. Tell me, Sir Alec, do you recall the blessing you gave us when we were all pissed as newts?"
"Now that you mention it, I do seem to remember standing on a table, saying something pretentious as I poured wine on people."
"I wish you'd gotten a few more drops of it on me. It might have saved me a few broken bones," Mercalle said, rubbing her left arm. "Of those you splashed, only one's been killed. The rest are all still with us. You're a luckbringer, and no mistake."
Seregil nodded. "I've always thought so."
They found Klia in a library on the first floor, poring over reports and charts with several uniformed aides.
"Tell him we can't wait for his shipment," she was saying when Seregil entered with Alec and Beka. "There'll be dispatch ships every few days. He can send it along with one of them."
Seregil studied her profile as he waited for her to finish. Klia had always looked more the commander than the princess, but war had left its mark on her all the same. Her uniform hung loosely on her slender frame, and faint w
orry lines bracketed her mouth when she frowned. A new sword scar cut across the tiny faded burn marks that peppered one cheek.
When she looked up at last and smiled, however, he saw that a little of the girl he'd known lived on in her bright blue eyes.
"So you talked them into it, Captain?" she said to Beka. "Well done. We sail the day after tomorrow. Any trouble on the road?"
Beka gave her a crisp salute. "Just a sore ear from traveling with Seregil, Commander."
Klia chuckled. "I don't doubt it. I expect you want to see your sergeants, eh? You're dismissed."
Saluting again, Beka and the aides withdrew.
Klia watched Beka go, then turned to Seregil. "I'm in your debt for wrangling that commission for her. She's saved my life more than once."
"I hear her turma spends more time behind the enemy than they do in front of them."
"That's what comes of growing up under your influence, and her father's." Klia came around the table to clasp hands with them. "I was afraid you wouldn't come."
"Beka made it clear that the queen had gone to some trouble to smooth my way with the Iia'sidra," Seregil replied. "Under the circumstances, it would've been most ungrateful of me to ignore your request."
"And for that I thank you," she replied with a knowing look. Loyal kinsman he might be, but as an Aurenfaie, exile or not, he was not hers to command. "By the Flame, it's good to see you both! I take it you mean to come with us, Alec?"
"If you'll have me."
"I will, and gladly." She waved them to seats near the window and poured wine. "Aside from my respect for your talents, it may prove favorable to have a second 'faie in my entourage."
Seregil noted Alec's quiet flicker of amusement; Klia had never mentioned his 'faie heritage before.
"Who else is going? Is Captain Myrhini with you?" he asked.
"She's Commander Myrhini now, promoted to take my place in the field," Klia replied with poorly concealed regret. "As for an entourage, it will be a small one. We've done our best to keep word of our journey from getting out, since we're still not sure what Plenimar's intentions are regarding Zengat. The last thing we need is them stirring up trouble for Aurenen just when we want the Iia'sidra's full attention.
"Lord Torsin is already there. Urgazhi Turma will be my honor guard and household; Beka will serve as aide-de-camp. I suppose she's told you that There's coming as my field wizard?"
Like Beka, she stole a quick glance at him as she said this; she'd spent enough of her girlhood underfoot at the Oreska House to know of the famous rivalry.
Seregil sighed inwardly. "A good choice. May I ask how you settled on him?"
"Ostensibly, because the more experienced wizards are needed in the field."
"And the real reason?"
Klia picked up an ornate map weight and tapped it absently against her palm. "You don't walk among swordsmen without a sword, but if your blade is too big, they're insulted and mistrust you. If it's too small, they scorn you. The trick is to find the right balance."
"And if you can make a large sword look smaller and less threatening, then so much the better? Nysander always claimed he was remarkable. A year with Magyana will only have enhanced his talents—perhaps even his personality."
Alec shot him a warning look, but Klia smiled.
"He's an odd duck, I admit, but I'll feel safer having him along. We're facing a great deal of opposition, not the least of which is the fact that there are plenty of Aurenfaie who don't want us going anywhere except Viresse."
"You mean that's not where we're going?" Seregil asked, surprised. No Tirfaie had been allowed to land anywhere except the eastern port since Aurenen had closed its borders.
"There's not much choice," Klia told him. "You can practically walk across the Strait of Bal on the decks of enemy ships these days. We're to land at Gedre. Do you know the place?"
"Very well." The name was tinged with bittersweet memories. "So we're to meet the Iia'sidra there?"
Klia's smile intensified. "No, over the mountains, at Sarikali."
"Sarikali?" Alec gaped. "I never thought I'd see Aurenen, much less Sarikali!"
"I could say the same," Seregil murmured, fighting to retain his composure as a wave of conflicting emotions raged through him.
"There is one more thing you ought to know," she warned. "Lord Torsin has opposed including you."
The words took a moment to register. "Why?"
"He believes your presence will complicate negotiations with some of the clans."
Seregil let out a derisive snort. "Of course it will! Which means
the queen must have some very pressing reason for sending me against the advice of her most experienced envoy."
"Yes." Klia turned the map weight over in her hands. "As envoy to Aurenen, Lord Torsin has served my family faithfully for three decades. There's never been any question as to his loyalty or wisdom. However, in all that time, outsiders have never been allowed beyond the city of Viresse, which means he's more familiar with that clan and their allies in the east. It would be—understandable if his long association with certain khirnari might unconsciously predispose him in their favor. The queen and I believe your westerner's point of view will prove a very valuable balance."
"Perhaps," Seregil said doubtfully. "But as an exile, I have no connections, no influence."
"Exile or not, you're still Aurenfaie, still the brother of a khirnari. As for influence—" She gave him a knowing look. "You know better than most in how many directions that can work. You'll certainly be seen as having my ear. I'm betting that some Aurenfaie will see you as a sympathetic conduit. Alec, too, for that matter."
This was familiar ground. "We'll do what we can, of course."
"Besides which," Klia continued earnestly, "there's no one else in all Skala I'd rather have at my back than the pair of you if things get complicated. I'm not asking you to spy on them, but you do have a talent for ferreting out information."
"Why do you think they're letting you come there, after all these years?" asked Alec.
"Self-interest, I suppose. The prospect of Plenimar controlling Mycena and perhaps striking a bargain with Zengat to the west has made at least some of them reexamine their alliegences."
"Has there been more news of the Zengat situation?" asked Seregil.
"Nothing certain, but there are enough rumors flying around to make the Iia'sidra nervous."
"It should. The world's a smaller place than it once was; it's time they realized that. So, what is it that Idrilain wants? "
"Ideally? Wizards, fresh troops, horses, and open trade. The northlands and Viresse are already all but lost to us and it's likely to get worse. At the very least, we need Gedre as an open port. The establishment of an armorers' colony at the outer Ashek iron mines would be even better."
Seregil ran a hand back through his hair. "By the Light, unless things have changed significantly from what I remember, we've got
a hard task ahead of us. The Viresse will oppose anything that threatens their monopoly on Skalan trade, and everyone else will be horrified at the thought of a Skalan colony on Aurenfaie soil."
Flexing her shoulders wearily, Klia returned to the paper-strewn table. "Diplomacy is a lot like horse trading, my friends. You have to set your price high so they can beat you down to what you really want and still believe they got the best of the bargain.
"But I've kept you long enough and Thero is anxious to see you. A room's been made ready for you upstairs. By the way, I took the liberty of asking your manservant in Wheel Street to send down some necessities. Beka said you two had been living rough up there in your hideaway." She took in their plain, mud-spattered clothing with a comic grimace. "I see now she rather understated the situation."
Sarikali. The Heart of the Jewel.
Alec repeated the magical name silently as he and Seregil climbed the stairs. He'd listened carefully to all Klia had said, but that one detail, and Seregil's shocked reaction, had captured his imagination.
>
They'd spoken of Sarikali only once that Alec could recall. "It's magical ground, Alec, the most sacred of all," Seregil had told him in the depths of a long winter night. "An empty city older than the 'faie themselves; the living heart of Aurenen. Legend says that the sun pierced the heart of the first dragon with a golden spear, and that the eleven drops of blood which fell from its breast as it flew over Aurenen created the 'faie. Some of the stories say that Aura took pity on the dying dragon and placed it in a deep sleep beneath the city until it heals and wakens again."
Alec had all but forgotten the tale, but now a hundred images sprang up before his mind's eye, like the first 'faie from the blood in the legend.
They found Thero at work at a small desk in the first bedchamber at the top of the stairs. Of all of them, the wizard had changed the most. The scruffy black beard was gone, and his curly hair was pulled back in a short queue. His thin face had filled out a bit, and he'd lost his bookish pallor. His customary reserve was still in place, but a hint of warmth in his pale green eyes made his gaunt features somewhat less imposing. He'd even shed his immaculate robes in favor of the simple traveling garb Nysander had always favored.
It suits him, Alec thought. He'd seen glimpses of this side of the man during the dark days of their captivity in Plenimar and was glad that Magyana had found a way to cultivate it. Perhaps the sense of compassion Nysander had always hoped would balance There's great potential was finally emerging.
Seregil was the first to clasp hands with him. The two stood a moment, regarding each other without speaking. The rivalry that divided them for so many years had died with Nysander; what would fill that void remained to be seen.
"You've prospered," Seregil said at last.
"Magyana's a remarkable mentor. And the war—" There shrugged expressively. "Well, it's been a harsh but efficient training ground." Turning to Alec, he smiled. "I ride like a soldier now, if you can imagine that. I've even lost my seasickness."
"That's a lucky thing, crossing the Osiat this time of year."
"Klia said you've brought more information regarding my return?" asked Seregil.
"Yes." There's smile faltered. "The Iia'sidra has laid down certain conditions."