top of his fingers. “We, the Roterralar, swear to protect and defend the Rahuli people. Defense, in part and in whole, from all enemies, from the enemy, and from all that threatens their existence. To this end, should our lives be required in this defense, then they are lain down. Hope is a solitary flame standing alone against a gale. What is the test of honor? To uphold the flame, or to snuff it out? This is our oath. We are always there, but never where you can see us.”
Lhaurel frowned. What?
“Stop and think for a moment, Lhaurel. What would the clans do if they realized there were people who would be there to protect them? What would they demand of us then?”
“They’d demand that you do your jobs,” she responded instantly. “Protect them.”
“All of them? Every time?” The look he gave her was sharp, penetrating.
“Yes! Every single one of them, every single time.” Even as she said it, though, her thoughts returned to the memories of the Sidena Warren, broken and destroyed. How could anything stand against that? And that had been a small sailfin pack, according to Kaiden.
“Is that all they’d do? Demand that we protect them?”
Lhaurel paused, pushing aside her frustration, emotion, and memories to consider the question. No, they wouldn’t just do that. “They’d probably fight you. They might even band together to take this place from you, or at least the aevians.”
Makin inclined his head toward Lhaurel in acknowledgement. “The genesauri often attack in many places at once and in massive numbers. You’ve never seen a true sailfin pack. What makes it to the warrens is what remains after we get done with them. But we are not infallible. We barely have enough warriors to face one pack, let alone many. You saw what a small pack did to your warren. Imagine what a larger one is capable of. Imagine what all of them can do. And that’s just the sailfins. The marsaisi are worse, the karundin hell incarnate.”
“Why don’t you get more warriors? There are over a hundred aevians. I’ve only ever seen a handful go out at one time.”
Makin Qays smiled ruefully, shaking his head. The wrinkles on his face deepened, making him appear even older.
“It is not so simple as that. There are other factors involved. We have neither the resources nor the capacity to support more than the few hundred we have here. Less than a quarter are warriors, though they have all upheld the flame. Suffice it to say that we must remain hidden because we do not have the numbers to protect everyone, everywhere—including ourselves—from the rest of the Rahuli. We do what we can so that the race can survive. We get new warriors, but only a few at time by means where they will not be missed. Finding you was enough work on its own, an endeavor that took several years.”
Lhaurel swallowed hard and clenched her fists to keep them from shaking. “You are all cowards,” she whispered. She didn’t really mean it, but it slipped out before she could stop herself.
Makin Qays rose to his feet slowly, keeping his gaze locked onto hers. His face didn’t change expression, but his eyes smoldered with a deep blue flame. He raised one of his arms, brandishing the tattooed bands. There were over thirty banded rings on that arm alone.
“These rings represent each time someone dies because we couldn’t protect them. We find each body we can and give them the honors that they deserve, no matter how grisly the remains. When you understand what it’s like to have to choose which clan to protect and which to let flounder on its own, when you feel the guilt of each death as it is inked into your flesh as a reminder, when you kneel in the sand clutching a little girl’s hand as her guts leak out of her stomach and her eyes slowly fade and there’s nothing you can do but hold her, when you know what that’s like, then you can call us cowards. Then you can presume to understand why it is that the clans do not know us.”
He
Lhaurel frowned. What?
“Stop and think for a moment, Lhaurel. What would the clans do if they realized there were people who would be there to protect them? What would they demand of us then?”
“They’d demand that you do your jobs,” she responded instantly. “Protect them.”
“All of them? Every time?” The look he gave her was sharp, penetrating.
“Yes! Every single one of them, every single time.” Even as she said it, though, her thoughts returned to the memories of the Sidena Warren, broken and destroyed. How could anything stand against that? And that had been a small sailfin pack, according to Kaiden.
“Is that all they’d do? Demand that we protect them?”
Lhaurel paused, pushing aside her frustration, emotion, and memories to consider the question. No, they wouldn’t just do that. “They’d probably fight you. They might even band together to take this place from you, or at least the aevians.”
Makin inclined his head toward Lhaurel in acknowledgement. “The genesauri often attack in many places at once and in massive numbers. You’ve never seen a true sailfin pack. What makes it to the warrens is what remains after we get done with them. But we are not infallible. We barely have enough warriors to face one pack, let alone many. You saw what a small pack did to your warren. Imagine what a larger one is capable of. Imagine what all of them can do. And that’s just the sailfins. The marsaisi are worse, the karundin hell incarnate.”
“Why don’t you get more warriors? There are over a hundred aevians. I’ve only ever seen a handful go out at one time.”
Makin Qays smiled ruefully, shaking his head. The wrinkles on his face deepened, making him appear even older.
“It is not so simple as that. There are other factors involved. We have neither the resources nor the capacity to support more than the few hundred we have here. Less than a quarter are warriors, though they have all upheld the flame. Suffice it to say that we must remain hidden because we do not have the numbers to protect everyone, everywhere—including ourselves—from the rest of the Rahuli. We do what we can so that the race can survive. We get new warriors, but only a few at time by means where they will not be missed. Finding you was enough work on its own, an endeavor that took several years.”
Lhaurel swallowed hard and clenched her fists to keep them from shaking. “You are all cowards,” she whispered. She didn’t really mean it, but it slipped out before she could stop herself.
Makin Qays rose to his feet slowly, keeping his gaze locked onto hers. His face didn’t change expression, but his eyes smoldered with a deep blue flame. He raised one of his arms, brandishing the tattooed bands. There were over thirty banded rings on that arm alone.
“These rings represent each time someone dies because we couldn’t protect them. We find each body we can and give them the honors that they deserve, no matter how grisly the remains. When you understand what it’s like to have to choose which clan to protect and which to let flounder on its own, when you feel the guilt of each death as it is inked into your flesh as a reminder, when you kneel in the sand clutching a little girl’s hand as her guts leak out of her stomach and her eyes slowly fade and there’s nothing you can do but hold her, when you know what that’s like, then you can call us cowards. Then you can presume to understand why it is that the clans do not know us.”
He
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