was weaker then.”
“And you were just a boy,” Carroway said quietly. “Your father never got around to finding a new court mage when your grandmother died. Maybe he didn’t know how. Maybe he didn’t want to share the power. When Jared took the initiative, I think your father was relieved. I always thought he hoped it was a sign Jared was growing out of his brawls and wenching.”
“What if grandmother trained me just for that reason?” Tris cried, the words tearing hoarsely 81
from his throat. “What if she foresaw something like this, and trained me in order to stop it? If I had studied more, practiced more, maybe the power would have come on me before this, maybe I was supposed to stop Arontala, and I failed.”
“Men go mad on maybes,” Harrtuck observed, watching compassionately as Tris dragged a sleeve across his eyes. “What’s done is done. And it seems to me, we need to put as much distance between you and Margolan as we can. Once we’re in Dhasson, we can figure out the best way to take the bastard down. But there’s naught to be done tonight, except live to see morning.”
Tris nodded, although sleep seemed far from likely. “I know,” he said, his voice raw. “But running away doesn’t seem like the most noble thing.”
Harrtuck regarded him cynically. “Dead is better?” When Tris turned away, back toward the fire, Harrtuck shrugged and began helping Soterius drag some pine boughs closer to the fire for them to bed down. Carroway watched Tris in silence for a few minutes as the latter paced at the edge of the forest, deep in silent argument with himself.
When Soterius and Harrtuck went to see to the horses, Carroway ventured closer. “There really hasn’t been a chance to tell you how sorry I am, about Kait and everything,” he said.
“Thanks,” Tris murmured in a strangled voice. “It seems like a nightmare that I’m going to wake up from any minute now, and I’ll find Kait, and tell her how much I love her.” He squeezed his eyes closed against the tears that came anyway, making further words impossible.
“The worst thing is, I know she’s out there,” Tris rasped when he could find his voice again. “I can feel it, but I can’t bring her to me. There’s something holding her back.” His eyes met Carroway’s, and Tris knew that his friend could clearly read his pain. “She’s trapped, she’s terrified, and I can’t help her,” he admitted, his voice raw. “What good is being able to talk to spirits if you can’t help the ones you love the most? I can’t fail her again, but I don’t know how to help her.”
82
Carroway laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know how, but I know you. And if you were of a mind to listen, I’d tell you that there was nothing you could have done differently back at Shekerishet, but I know you won’t hear a word I say.”
Tris shook his head. “No, I won’t, but thank you for saying so.”
“Get some sleep,” Carroway instructed. “Ban’s got the first watch.”
In Tris’s dreams, Bava K’aa still stood as straight and uncompromising as she had in life, a dark-haired woman for whom the years added little gray and few lines. Bava K’aa had an aura of power, even without the gray robes and charcoal mantle that marked her as a spirit sorceress or Summoner.
“Tris,” the dream figure summoned.
“Here, grandmother.”
“The time has come,” Bava K’aa said.
“For what, grandmother?”
“For you to remember my lessons,” Bava K’aa replied. She reached out to take his hand, and he felt her warm flesh close around his fingers. “You must remember what you have learned. Do 83
not be afraid. The power will come to you, Tris. I have prepared you.”
“For what?” he asked again. Bava K’aa’s image seemed so real and her touch so firm that it was hard to remind himself this was only a dream. He reached toward her on instinct, hungry for the comfort of her touch, and the spirit’s
“And you were just a boy,” Carroway said quietly. “Your father never got around to finding a new court mage when your grandmother died. Maybe he didn’t know how. Maybe he didn’t want to share the power. When Jared took the initiative, I think your father was relieved. I always thought he hoped it was a sign Jared was growing out of his brawls and wenching.”
“What if grandmother trained me just for that reason?” Tris cried, the words tearing hoarsely 81
from his throat. “What if she foresaw something like this, and trained me in order to stop it? If I had studied more, practiced more, maybe the power would have come on me before this, maybe I was supposed to stop Arontala, and I failed.”
“Men go mad on maybes,” Harrtuck observed, watching compassionately as Tris dragged a sleeve across his eyes. “What’s done is done. And it seems to me, we need to put as much distance between you and Margolan as we can. Once we’re in Dhasson, we can figure out the best way to take the bastard down. But there’s naught to be done tonight, except live to see morning.”
Tris nodded, although sleep seemed far from likely. “I know,” he said, his voice raw. “But running away doesn’t seem like the most noble thing.”
Harrtuck regarded him cynically. “Dead is better?” When Tris turned away, back toward the fire, Harrtuck shrugged and began helping Soterius drag some pine boughs closer to the fire for them to bed down. Carroway watched Tris in silence for a few minutes as the latter paced at the edge of the forest, deep in silent argument with himself.
When Soterius and Harrtuck went to see to the horses, Carroway ventured closer. “There really hasn’t been a chance to tell you how sorry I am, about Kait and everything,” he said.
“Thanks,” Tris murmured in a strangled voice. “It seems like a nightmare that I’m going to wake up from any minute now, and I’ll find Kait, and tell her how much I love her.” He squeezed his eyes closed against the tears that came anyway, making further words impossible.
“The worst thing is, I know she’s out there,” Tris rasped when he could find his voice again. “I can feel it, but I can’t bring her to me. There’s something holding her back.” His eyes met Carroway’s, and Tris knew that his friend could clearly read his pain. “She’s trapped, she’s terrified, and I can’t help her,” he admitted, his voice raw. “What good is being able to talk to spirits if you can’t help the ones you love the most? I can’t fail her again, but I don’t know how to help her.”
82
Carroway laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know how, but I know you. And if you were of a mind to listen, I’d tell you that there was nothing you could have done differently back at Shekerishet, but I know you won’t hear a word I say.”
Tris shook his head. “No, I won’t, but thank you for saying so.”
“Get some sleep,” Carroway instructed. “Ban’s got the first watch.”
In Tris’s dreams, Bava K’aa still stood as straight and uncompromising as she had in life, a dark-haired woman for whom the years added little gray and few lines. Bava K’aa had an aura of power, even without the gray robes and charcoal mantle that marked her as a spirit sorceress or Summoner.
“Tris,” the dream figure summoned.
“Here, grandmother.”
“The time has come,” Bava K’aa said.
“For what, grandmother?”
“For you to remember my lessons,” Bava K’aa replied. She reached out to take his hand, and he felt her warm flesh close around his fingers. “You must remember what you have learned. Do 83
not be afraid. The power will come to you, Tris. I have prepared you.”
“For what?” he asked again. Bava K’aa’s image seemed so real and her touch so firm that it was hard to remind himself this was only a dream. He reached toward her on instinct, hungry for the comfort of her touch, and the spirit’s
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