Shesmelledlike the horse now. Sweat had matted her hair to her head and her breeches to her legs. It stung the cuts on her chest, which were aching of themselves. Amris was limping slightly, though Darya suspected that wasn’t the cause of his set face.
There was nothing she could do about any of it. If she turned her own mind away from injuries and weariness, from the immediate need to put one foot in front of the other, the new direction it took would be worse.
Up two flights of polished granite stairs they went, passing servants who stared at them nervously and backed up, soldiers who tried to disguise their nerves, and Katrine, a tall, rangy blond Sentinel who gave Darya a sympathetic look but was too wise to try and stop her for conversation.
After the landing, Hallis’s office was at least not very far: second door on the left, past a tapestry of an elven hunting party. She’d admired it the first time she’d been stationed at Oakford, and noticed it with some appreciation after that. Now the colors blurred in her vision.
Lifting her hand to knock was a matter of intense focus. Thank the gods, she only had to do it once.
The door opened nearly under her hand, and then Hallis was staring up at her.Hehadn’t changed: still short and blocky, still dark-skinned and gray-haired, still wearing rumpled clothing beneath his green sash of office. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Many things,” Darya said. “I can explain a couple.”
“Both of you, come in. Sit.”
Darya was glad to, as soon as Hallis opened the door, and she suspected Amris was as well, though he kept up a facade of blank good discipline. The office was no fancier than became a bachelor commander of a remote outpost—dark shutters at the window, no carpets, a few candles, Hallis’s own wood carvings for the only ornaments—but it was comfortable, with a low leather couch rather than chairs in front of the desk. She sank down with a murmur of relief and closed her hands around a flask Hallis pressed into them.
Drinking was blind reflex. The drink itself was cool, and tasted of mint and orange, with a powerful hint of spice behind it: fuiroig, a liquor the Criwathani used for energy. Two swallows and Darya no longer felt in danger of falling asleep, or like it was going to be too much effort just to move her mouth to talk. She passed the flask over to Amris.
He was as good a place to start as any. “Sir,” she said, “this is General Amris var Faina.”
There was more, but Hallis broke in, frowning, “I’m calling the Mourner, Sentinel. You’ve been out there too long. You, sir, whatisyour name?”
“The lady has it right,” Amris said, “incredible as I realize it is. I’ll swear it so, under whatever oath you’d like or in front of a dozen priests of Tinival, but we have no time to explain in detail.”
It was good that Hallis was also sitting down. His mouth opened and his hands clenched tightly on the arms of his chair. “You died a hundred years ago.”
“No. I’m no ghost, Commander. A hundred years ago, I faced Thyran and, with the help of an enchanted object, cast us both outside of time. Then came storm and ruin, and I stayed as I was while the world moved, until Darya came seeking her prey and found me.”
Despite the couch, Amris sat straight-backed, his hands folded before him. In profile, his nose was sharp, his jaw clean; he could have been the face on an old coin, shining through tarnish. He didn’t even slur his speech as Darya knew she’d done from weariness.
A more worthy and high-minded person might have sighed with admiration. Darya felt the urge, and partly as a result also wanted both to kick him in the shin and to drag him off to bed. Thank the gods, neither was an option.
Hallis sat back in his chair, staring at Amris. The office was warm and smelled of woodsmoke. A carving of an owl watched everyone from the mantel. Darya swallowed, tasted the last traces of mint and orange, and waited.
“Foundyou, you say?” Hallis asked eventually, and Darya could see him approaching the question as she’d approached the horse-things, ready for the sudden kick or bite. There was no avoiding it this time, though, and she could see by Hallis’s face that he knew as much, only hoped in this last moment to be wrong. “Youstayed in place? And you faced”—his voice dropped, veteran that he was, and Darya thought he wanted to look over his shoulder—“Thyran.”
“Yes,” said Amris. “For just this reason, we demanded your presence so urgently. Thyran is active once more, Commander. I know no reason that he wouldn’t have all his old strength and malice. I know that hedoeshave an army, and that already they move this way.”
Outside, the sky was turning purple with evening and the smell of cooking meat was heavy in the air. People called to one another from elsewhere in the fort. The couch was soft under Darya’s thighs, the floor smooth beneath her boots.
All of it felt like the mirror in her pack: pretty, unreal, and very easily broken.
Part III
Nature is change, and change is nature. Even the rocks shift, given time. Mortals and gods have the gift of directing their own transformations, and the perilous task of influencing the way others change.
—The Lessons of Poram, Part II
You yourself, Your Grace, have met with those who pursued fleshcrafting as a magic and those who sought its results. It has the dangers of any new craft, particularly one so tied to the body. What Thyran did to his forces—and to himself—was a different matter. Whether he worked with the help of the demons from outside the world or the power of Gizath alone, he stripped away the best parts of those who came to join him. They became mockeries of those they once were, and their spawn mocked all life. Worse, most of his closest servants chose that path.
—The Letters of Farathen
Chapter 25
Hallis raised one of his hands. For a moment he seemed about to make a point, or reach for something on his desk. Then he stared at his own hand and put it back down, clutching the chair harder.
It had been bad enough when she found out, Darya thought, and she’d gotten to do it in stages. She wouldn’t have saidgotten to, like it was a privilege, until she saw Hallis get it all dumped on him at once.
