She passed over her sword, and Ninnian took it with ceremonial care. Darya leaned against the desk while he made mystic gestures over the hilt, peered at it, whispered a few words, took another look, poured a fine blue powder over Gerant’s gem, studied it again, and finally shook his shaved head.
“I have no notion how you managed any of that. This blade, like those of the other Sentinels, seems as it was. I can sense—Ihavesensed—the spell on all of you, and it’s an unexpected creation for certain, but it shouldn’t have had the capacity for such a feat, not by any mechanism I can think of.”
The open window let in the smell of summer rain. Two days of it, not to mention active cleaning with the aid of Criwath’s forces—including two Blades, a Mourner, and a mage who’d specialized in fire spells—had cleared the stench of the battlefield. Darya suspected a weather mage might have pulled some strings, but she’d been either asleep or too busy to ask.
My supposition, Gerant said,is that it had to do with Olvir.
“Olvir,” said Amris, not sounding too surprised. To be fair, he wasn’t sounding too much of anything just then. The Mourners had done what they could, but they’d had their hands full with the more severely wounded, and fixing the hole in his chest had taken a fair amount of magical effort. The broken ribs that had caused it were still strapped, and his arm was in a cast and a sling.
“Me?” Olvir blinked, but he didn’t sound surprised either. His damage wasn’t as straightforward as Amris’s, but he’d passed out again shortly after Thyran disappeared, and the whites of his eyes were still entirely red. He moved more gingerly, and seemed not to be quite aware where objects or people—even the ground, half the time—truly were. The Mourners, he’d told Darya, had said that would heal.
You’ve heard of his reactions to Thyran’s presence,Gerant said.I was…not at my best when I shielded him and Amris, and there’s plenty I likely missed, but I did feel my spell anchor to him and grow stronger from it, and I believe it called to the others in the same manner. After that, I was…overtaken.
“I don’t remember much either,” said Olvir, when he’d been filled in. “The sigil, and being prepared for it, helped me go on when Thyran was close, so long as his attention was elsewhere. Maybe they saved me from a worse fate later, but once he started to focus on us…it felt like being torn apart.”
“Shame Thyran didn’t feel it,” Darya said.
“I suspect either the ornaments he wore—likely magical, after all, given their construction—or his followers helped him shunt off the worst of it.” Ninnian smoothed a hand over his scalp. “Itcouldbe Tinival, I suppose. In a metaphysical sense, Gizath’s power is to turn bonds against themselves, or their holders, and Tinival’s domain is largely the upholding and maintenance of those bonds freely entered into.”
“He stands as firmly against the Traitor God as his sister does,” Olvir agreed, “but with less hatred, or…less personal hatred. Loathing what Gizath became, not what he did. But none of my training ever spoke of”—he waved his hands—“any of this.”
“Nor has any theory I’ve ever read.”
Nor have I seen it, Gerant put in,and I’ve read a great deal. The Mourners or the Blades, or the Adeptas, might be able to shed more light on the matter.
“Many might hold the knowledge, or parts of it,” said Amris, “and we’d best begin to search. I know not what Thyran will do next, but if he hated us before this, what he feels now is likely beyond imagining.”
* * *
“Well,” said Darya, coming up behind Amris as he stood by the outer wall, sheltering from the rain under one of the walkways where they’d stood for so many hours of desperate battle. “Looks like we’re bound for Affiran.”
Amris turned from watching the first efforts at rebuilding, and smiled at her. “Oh?”
“Gerant and I, definitely. Probably Olvir. The Order has a chapter house there, and they’ve got plenty of mages to study us, not to mention being the closest army.” Darya shrugged diffidently. “I told them I couldn’t speak for you and I didn’t know if you were taking orders these days. Ninnian said I should let you know, if I encountered you.”
“Taking orders is no hardship,” Amris said, “and I’d be glad to go, but I thank you for the choice.” He reached out his good arm. Darya blinked, but came to his side with every evidence of gladness, though she kept most of her weight to herself, not leaning against him the way she’d done when they’d rested during the siege. Briefly, Amris wondered if peace, or the prospect of going with him to a civilized land, had given her second thoughts. Then she looked up at him with her brows furrowed and said, “Are you sure your ribs will hold up? I don’t know how this works for normal people.”
Gerant snickered, and Darya muttered an obscenity.
“My ribs,” said Amris, drawing her more firmly against his side, “will endure—though sadly, likely not for anything more energetic than this for a few days yet. And,” he added, glancing down at the gem that held Gerant, “any comments about my normality or lack thereof can go unsaid, thank you.”
They certainlycan…
“Oh, you save a few lives and suddenly you’re not worried about being made into saucepans,” said Darya.
You know I don’t live in the blade.
“All right, I’ll make you into a pendant and give you to some court lady in Criwath. One fond of sentimental poetry and badly trained dogs.”
I do,Gerant said thoughtfully,occasionally miss being able to stick out my tongue. Or to make other gestures.
“The feeling comes across, I assure you,” said Amris. Darya was warm and strong against him, her hair smelling of the rain, her scales shining with it. Gerant was laughing in his mind, cheerfully content. He deeply regretted his ribs.
Moving with care, she slid one of her own arms around his waist, and then laughed softly. “This is so much easier without armor.”
“I’d nearly forgotten how it feels not to wear it.”
The town was full of people once more, though not yet those who’d fled. Amris wasn’t certain how many would come back. Criwath’s troops were starting the rebuilding, with the priests of Sitha to help, and already wooden frames had gone up on most of the blackened squares where houses or shops had once stood.
