“I promise you, I will do no magic here,” Ritathan’s voice was thick.“I swear it.”
“Such a good lad.”The Chosen smiled and patted his cheek.“And who is this?”she asked, looking again at Halithe.
Halithe stepped forward, and curtsied.“Halithe, Chosen.”she said.“I am Ritathan’s student.”
The Chosen clapped.“Another scribe.We are always in need of scribes, aren’t we, Latarie?”
“We are,” Latarie said, her voice heavy with grief.
“Come.”The Chosen rose and took Halithe’s hand.“I feel the cold these days, deep in the bone.I want my fire.Come, we will have kavage and cookies.”She leaned forward and her nose crinkled with delight as she shared a great secret.“Ritathan loves my molasses cookies.”
Halithe hesitated, looking at Latarie and the vore beside her.
The ruff of the biggest vore shivered.Latarie looked resigned.“Chosen, let’s get you back to your fire,” she said gently.“Ritathan is mistaken.He still has chores to do.”
The Chosen nodded and rose, tiny and graceful.She shivered and rubbed her arms.“Don’t be long, children,” she said as the other two women helped her away.
Everyone stood silent as she went through the door at the back.
“How long?”Ritathan asked softly, all arrogance gone from his voice.
“Gradually,” Latarie said, her voice drained of anger.“It’s grown worse in the last year.Her overall health is good, but she is…fading.”
“No new Chosen found yet?”he asked.
“No,” Latarie pursed her lips.“Why have you come?”
Ritathan sighed.To Halithe’s surprise he spoke the truth.“I was the chained mage to King Xywellan and Queen Kara.I escaped an assassination attempt from the new regime.I came here, because I am seeking my key.I thought to find it here, but—” He paused.“It’s gone beyond.It’s north of here,” he said.
Latarie looked at the vore beside her.The vore shrugged.“Tell him,” its interpreter said.
“A marcus passed through here some time ago,” Latarie said.“He’d been traveling with the vore, Dust.He was intent on reaching the Wastes as quickly as possible.Dust was to accompany him and return.They took the path north, the old goat track through the hills up to the mountain pass.We have had no word of them since.”
“A marcus,” Ritathan said, rubbing his chin.“That explains much, and yet very little.”Latarie took a deep breath.“We will shelter you this night,” she said.“I will consult with the Packmoot.”
“I could speak with them, explain—” Ritathan offered, but Latarie cut him off.
“It is for them to decide if they will listen,” she said.“The others will see to you and your mounts.For now, your apprentice will come with me.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Ritathan said stiffly.
The vore growled.
“We do,” Latarie said.
She turned to leave, then hesitated, her hand on the back of the High Seat.“Is there anything your magic could do for her?”Her voice mingled fear and pain and a dreadful hope as she looked back over her shoulder.
The vore raised its head and stared at her.
“No,” Ritathan said gently.“Even if I had a power that would aid her, which I don’t, I gave my word.”
“You broke it before,” Latarie said.
“I did.But that was then,” Ritathan said.“This is now.”
Latarie gave a sharp nod and started to walk away.“Come, girl.”
Halithe glanced at her mentor.Ritathan hesitated, then gave her a curt nod.She followed the woman through the door, down a long hall, through another door, and into a kitchen.
