Ryding-sword,"
said the Earthwitch, and put back the hood of her robe.
Her hair was still the color of sunlit
grain; her eyes the same clear, cold gray. Her face was more mature, but no
less beautiful. He stared, unbelieving, and reached out blindly in her
direction. "Mariel!" he whispered. "Oh, Mariel," and the
room spun about him and went dark.
Mariel stared down at the
unconscious man in dismay. Whatever she had expected from this confrontation,
it was not this. She shook herself and clapped her hands for her students.
"He has exhausted himself," she said when they appeared and exclaimed
in astonishment. "We will take him to the visitor's chamber. Then, Veryl,
you must make a broth, while Niza prepares the resting herbs."
The students nodded jerkily, eyes
wide. Working together, they got Evan onto the bed; then the two girls vanished
to follow Mariel's instructions, leaving her to watch over him.
In the clear, bright lamplight,
Mariel could see that her words were truer than she had realized. Evan's face
had a grayish cast beneath its tan, and the skin below his eyes was dark and
bruised looking. Close up, she could see that his mail hung more loosely than
it should have, and in several places the rings were broken or missing. He had
not come to such a state in a five-day journey to Firewell Mountain . How had she missed seeing
it before?
Almost without her willing it, her
hand reached out to stroke his hair. She pulled it back before she touched him
and shook her head. "Still you are a danger to me, Evan," she
whispered, folding her hands tightly in her lap.
It seemed a very long time before
Veryl and Niza returned.
Evan Rydingsword awoke lying on a
hard, narrow bed. He tried to sit up, and a firm hand pushed him back.
"Drink," a young female voice said, and he swallowed something warm.
He shook his head and blinked at the figure above him. "Mariel?" he
said doubtfully.
"I am here," said a voice
from the shadows. She moved forward and nodded at the girl standing by Evan's
bedside. "That is enough, Veryl; you may go."
The girl nodded and left. Evan
barely noticed; he was staring at Mariel. She returned his gaze steadily.
"Where did you go?" he
said at last. "Why did you leave?"
"Because I could not stay, and
live."
His hand groped for his sword hilt.
"Who threatened you? By the gods, if he still lives—"
For a moment, Mariel stared at him.
Then she gave a brittle laugh. "No one threatened me, Evan. No one except you."
"I never threatened you!"
She shook her head. "You were
swallowing me whole, you and your desire to be king. I tried to explain then,
but you would not listen. Then you became king, and it was worse."
"I don't understand."
"I don't expect you to."
"I looked for you," he
said bitterly. "I searched for months." He reached for her hands.
"Mariel—"
She drew away, her face remote.
"I am the Earth-witch now."
"And I am a king without a
throne," Evan said. "Can we never be simply Evan and Mariel?"
"What brings you here?"
Mariel asked, avoiding his eyes.
Evan closed his own for a moment,
then looked up at her again. "The Dhainin."
She folded her hands in her lap.
"Tell me."
"They came two years ago, from
the southwest, raiding and burning. We drove them off, but they only returned
in greater numbers. They have taken Saraset and burned Kerr Hollaran to the
ground. I have fought them and lost, and fought again and lost again, until I
have nothing left to fight with, and still they come. You are the only hope I
have left."
"The Dhainin—"
"If we fight them, they seem
to multiply until they overwhelm us with sheer numbers," Evan said
wearily. "If we do not fight, they burn and slaughter anyway."
Mariel sucked in her breath. When
he looked up she was staring into the air above the bed, as if she saw the same
scenes of death and blood and burning that haunted his own dreams.
"Perhaps," she said at last, reluctantly. "Perhaps something can
be done. But there will be a price. There is