Amris translated, and added, “But he can only choose one target at a time, or could in my day. That doesn’t mean he’ll be completely vulnerable at such times, mind you. He always had other protections established before he ever rode into a battle.”
“No disrespect intended,” Olvir said, “but are you sure he’ll follow our lead?”
“Anger was ever his undoing, and we’ve thwarted his purposes a few times now,” said Amris. “He’ll have been vexed that we were prepared at all, and his wrath tonight will be great. Few have ever thwarted him when he brought that much might to bear.”
“You have,” said Katrine, “or so all the histories say.”
“In different forms. I wouldn’t take all the glory of it, but I suppose—” He stopped. Gods knew how many of the histories Thyran had heard, but Amris had been the last face he’d seen before they’d been trapped, and Amris the one to trigger the spell. Before that, Amris’s army had evacuated most of the targets Thyran had wanted in Klaishil, had taken back other cities, and had held Thyran and his forces off the longest of any general.
Whether Amris deserved the credit or not, Thyran had likely given him the blame.
“I have faith in Thyran’s anger overwhelming his judgment,” he said to his waiting companions. “But a wise woman once told me that it’s a shame to waste a big shiny target.”
* * *
“You’ve got to be joking,” Darya said, almost immediately.
“Why?” Amris wasn’t testing her, and he wasn’t being smart. His face showed only worry that he’d missed a detail. There was nothing about him just then that showed they even knew each other, other than as two people on the same line in the battle.
That was the way it should be. Darya tried to respond in kind. “What if he kills you”—she thought she did a decent job of sounding neutral there, though she didn’t look at either him or Emeth before she went on—“and you don’t take him out? You’re the only one who’s fought him before.”
“So I was. After this, any of you knows as much as I do of meeting him or his forces in battle—particularly now, when we’ve seen the twistedmen in their current forms. I’ve told Hallis and a few others all I remembered of the war, and though, yes, it’s possible that I forgot to mention a detail, I don’t believe there’s enough risk there to balance what I might achieve by focusing Thyran’s attention on me now.”
None of the others spoke to support or challenge him. Tebengri carried on painting a sigil on Emeth’s forehead. Olvir stood with his hands clasped behind him, waiting to hear more, and Katrine watched Darya with a sympathetic twist of her mouth.
“I know myself to be an excellent warrior and commander,” Amris went on, “but not magically so, or blessed by the gods. Even if I were, none of us is irreplaceable, not now. Each of you would have told me that yourself, in my place.”
He’s right, said Gerant, sounding more tired than he had when he’d said Thyran would likely be able to bring the abattoir back.I hate it, but I can’t deny it.
“Neither can I,” said Darya. “All right.”
Tebengri moved on to Katrine, and Emeth stood. “You don’t survive this and we get our hands on Thyran, the bastard’s dying by inches,” she said. “But in all honesty, I’d want to see that regardless.”
“I’d advise otherwise, Sentinel, tempting as it is. Better to make his death quick and certain.” They faced each other in the dim room, two people who’d met only days before, two people of the four who understood love and valor best among all Darya knew. Amris heard the real sentiment behind Emeth’s flippant, angry speech, and nobody could have doubted his sincerity when he added, “But I thank you.”
None of the others spoke. The room was full of breathing: the snores of those wounded lightly enough to sleep normally, the shallow breaths of those hanging on by will and Letar’s grace. Darya stared into the darkness, blinking hard.
Amris stepped in front of her and took both of her hands in his. “Darya. Sentinel.”
For a second, Darya was conscious of the others around them, but then decided that if Amris didn’t give a damn, neither did she. She looked up into his face, as she’d done before she’d said his name back in Klaishil, and tried to smile. “Not like any of us couldn’t have died an hour ago,” she said.
“Or at many other points in our lives,” he replied quietly.
“I wish you hadn’t woken up just to get thrown back into it, is all.”
“The world is as it is.” Amris’s breath stirred her hair. “You told me that. I could wish to have more time in it—with both of you—even in war, but here and now is more than fate affords to many, in the end.”
“Yeah,” said Darya, and cleared her throat. “There’s that.”
I saw you again. That has to be worth something. We did the best we could in the time that we had, and I’m glad that it was the three of us, in the end.
“All three of us,” said Darya, through the thickness in her throat.
On the cots some distance away, the wounded breathed steadily. A few stirred in their sleep, or moaned with nightmares, and the young woman on duty did what she could. Perspective, Darya told herself, was good.
I’ll recast the spell on you both now,said Gerant, pulling himself together.That should strengthen it, and combined with the sigils, it may keep the worst of Thyran’s attacks from you. Your resignation does you credit, but thereis, after all, a chance you might both survive.
* * *
