Free Banewreaker by Jacqueline Carey Page B

they passed. In Arduan, men and women gathered in knots to speak in the marketplace, full quivers slung over their shoulders. The streets of Pelmar City were filled with soldiers, and long trains of them wound through the woods. Along the eastern verge of the desert, the Rukhari whetted their curving swords. To the north, the stone fortresses of Staccia were shut and warded.
    "What do they dream, Dreamspinner?"
    "War, my Lord," Ushahin said briefly. "They dream of war. They dream of a red star arisen in the west, and the rumor of a wedding-to-come. They dream, in fear, of the rumor of Fjeltroll moving in the mountains, in such numbers as none have seen in living memory."
    "Do they dream of the Arrow of Fire?"
    Ushahin paused, then shook his head. "In Arduan, they do. All Arduans dream of Oronin's Bow and the Arrow of Fire. But they do not know where it is."
    Satoris Third-Born, whom the Ellylon named Banewreaker and Men called Sunderer, watched the swirling images, motionless as a mountain. "Haomane," he murmured, then again, "Haomane!" He sighed, gathering himself. "They will not strike, not yet. Not unless this wedding occurs, and fills them with the courage of my Elder Brother's Prophecy, such as they understand it." A glare lit his eyes. "Then they will bring war to my doorstep."
    "Not Staccia, my Lord," Vorax promised. "They guard their own, but they have pledged their loyalty on gold, and sent a company in earnest token. As long as we may ward the tunnels, our lines of supply shall remain open. And the desert Rukhari may be bought for swift horses, for they love fine steeds above all else, and despise the Pelmarans."
    "Loyal Vorax," the Shaper said gently. "Your heart is as vast as your appetite. What you have done, I know well, and I am grateful for it. It the unknown that I fear."
    When the unknown is made known…
    Tanaros shivered, brushed by the feather-touch of the Prophecy.
    "My Lord." Ushahin pointed at the Ravensmirror. "There is more."
    Around and around, the dark maelstrom whirled, fleeting visions forming against the black gloss of feathers, the gleam of round eyes pricking like stars. Around and around, inevitable as time, link upon link in the Chain of Being, circling like the ages.
    When the companies parted in Lindanen Dale, Blaise Caveros of the Borderguard—Aracus' second-in-command—went with the Ellylon. He spoke at length with a lieutenant in his company, a young man. who saluted him firmly, his jaw set. Aracus Altorus gripped his wrists, gazing into his eyes. And they parted. Blaise rode with the Rivenlost to Meronil, and did not look back, bound to a greater mission.
    Tanaros watched him hungrily.
    What need could be so great that it would part the second-in-command from his sworn lord? None, in his lifetime, in his mortal lifetime. And yet it was so. Blaise Caveros, who was his own kinsman many times removed, left his lord without glancing back, his grey-cloaked back upright.
    "What are you up to, Malthus?" Lord Satoris whispered.
    To that, there was no answer. The Ravensmirror swirled onward, giving only taunting glimpses. A contest, and bow-strings thrumming. Fletched arrows, a silent thud. Feathers, scattering. A lone Arduan, setting forth on a journey, coiled braids hidden beneath a leather cap.
    On the verges of his journey—hers, as it transpired—there was the Unknown Desert, glimpses assayed by fearful ravens, wary of the lack of water.
    Malthus the Counselor keeps his counsel well…
    "Enough!" The Shaper's fists clenched, and the Ravensmirror dispersed, trembling, breaking into a thousand bits of darkness. Roosts were found, bescaled and taloned bird-feet scrambling for perches, bright eyes winking as the Shaper paced, the Tower trembling beneath his footfalls. A single raven, with a tuft of feathers atop his head, croaked a tremulous query. In the air hung the copper-sweet smell of blood.
    "It shall not be," Lord Satoris said. "Though I have left my Elder Brother in peace, still he