Lord Barrial was pacing the room like a caged tairen. He halted abruptly when he saw Adrial come in and hurry to Talisa’s side. “What’s he doing here?”
“Talisa called him,” Rain said.
“Talisa—” Cann stared at his daughter. “I never knew she could do that.”
Rain saw Talisa’s eyes open, saw the relief on her face when Adrial knelt and clasped her hand in his. “Chances are, neither did she. Though I’ll wager that over the years you’ve had instances when you’ve known that she was hurt or in trouble.”
“Yes, but I’ve always had a sort of link to the ones I love,” Cann said.
Rain nodded, unsurprised. “We call it Spirit, one of the two mystics. All Fey have at least a rudimentary control of Spirit.”
“I’m Celierian, not Fey.”
“If Dural vel Serranis is your ancestor, you’re Fey enough. Serranis blood has always been strong. It’s even produced Tairen Souls in the past.”
Marissya sat back.
“Well?” Cann asked her. “What is wrong with my daughter?”
“What’s wrong with myshei’tani?” Adrial echoed.
“There is nothing wrong with her,” Marissya said. “The pain she feels belongs to another. As does mine. I should have known, but it’s been so long since I felt it.” Theshei’dalindrew a deep breath and met the dawning realization in Rain’s eyes. “Dahl’reisen. An incredibly strong one.”
“Gaelen?” Rain asked.
“I don’t know. I can’t bear to open myself enough to find out. I’ve built as strong a block as I can, and still I feel his soul tearing at me.”
“What possible reason would he have to come here?” Cann asked, frowning. “Surely he knows the Fey are here and that Marissya would sense him.”
Rain thought of the two Fey slain when he’d sent them northand the rumors ofdahl’reisenraids along the Eld-Celieria border. If Gaelen had joined forces with the Eld, there was one person in Celieria he could use to cause the Fey irreparable harm.
«Ellysetta.»Rain reached for her, then realized his block was still in place. He tore the weave down and tried again. His heart stopped. He could not sense her.
Bel groaned and picked himself up off the ground. His ears rang and his vision was blurry from the force of his head cracking against the stones that paved the narrow courtyard.
Let that be a lesson to you, Belliard vel Jelani. When the Feyreisa says leave her alone, listen to her.
Grimacing, he shook his head and leaned over for an instant until the dizziness passed. Ellysetta’s thrust of Air had been quick and brutal, plowing into him like the whip of a tairen’s tail, flinging him across the courtyard and slamming him into the wall on the far side.
It had been stupid of him to grab her. A boy who had yet to pass his first level in the Dance of Knives would know better.
«Bel?»Rain’s voice whipped at the insides of Bel’s aching skull.«What’s happening? I can no longer sense Ellysetta.»
«She’s here with me.»He glanced at the spot where she should have been, and froze.
Ellysetta was gone.
A mile from his prey’s house, when he was certain he was clear of detection by Fey sentries, Gaelen released the weave that hid his presence. He slumped against a wall, gasping as sweat rolled down his face. Thesel’dorshrapnel burned like live coals in his flesh. He was spent, with nothing left to keep him standing but sheer force of will.
He didn’t even have the strength to hold his torment in check. Though he wasn’t fully broadcasting his pain, too much of it was slipping though his mental barriers. The warriors wouldn’t senseit. Empathy was solely a Fey woman’s gift, or curse, as was more often the case.
Marissya, forgive me.
She would know he was here. She had to feel him by now, and the pain would grow worse the longer he remained. He had to get to the Velpin, restore what strength he had left, and kill the High Mage’s daughter before the Fey could find and slay him.
Pushing himself away from the wall, he started off again. He followed the Velpin’s sweet scent unerringly through a maze of narrow cobbled roads and alleys, each shambling step bringing him closer to the promise of relief until, at last, the street opened to a grassy park and a tree-lined embankment overlooking the river. Stone steps led down to a ledge where the local women could do their wash.
Clutching at the wall, he eased his battered body down the steps. But he was too tired, his strength sapped. His dragging feet tangled. He tripped on the last step and toppled forward, plunging into the river. His head struck the side of the ledge, and his ironic last thought as the water closed over him was that at least the stench would be gone when his body was brought to Marissya.
