Halithe blinked.Of course.Hot food from an oven, cold wine and ale from a cellar, of course they were using a portal.
A snort from Ritathan broke her concentration and she found him giving her a look.“Took you long enough,” he muttered.
“The Ring of Xy is not magical,” Forterran said to Aramal.“It has no properties in and of itself.But it is…an influence.Part of a set, perhaps.It has been handed down from monarch to monarch since even before the Mage Wars.”He frowned at it, as if it was somehow the ring’s fault that it was sitting in front of him.“Xyrath has shrugged its loss off, but I know it grates at him.”
“My heart bleeds for them,” Ritathan said.He reached out with his spoon and tapped the ring.“Wouldn’t do to take that into the Wastes.”
“Agreed,” Aramal said.“The Wastes tolerates nothing forced by the hand of man, or so they say.”
Ritathan frowned.“Clearly, they couldn’t take the ring.But who separates a holder from their key?”
“Who takes a babe into the Wastes?”Obeda asked.“How can you raise a child in that dreadful place?”
“If any can, the marcusi can,” Aramal said.
“A marcus would know of your link to your key.”Forterran said.“Perhaps it was also done to prevent you from finding them.”
Ritathan scowled.“Who better to protect—”
“Not to the marcusi,” Aramal said.“They don’t trust mages.To them, mages are even worse than they are to the vore.”
“At any rate, best not to leave them out in the open,” Forterran gestured.
Ritathan shrugged.“The ring is your problem.I don’t want it.”
“Oh no, I don’t want it,” Forterran scoffed.“Safer to have Master Aramal take it back to Atheylbryght with him.”
“I am not going back to Athelbryght.”Aramal said quietly.He lifted his gaze to Ritathan.“I am staying with you, going where you go.”
Chapter Nineteen
On the road to the Black Hills
Halithe put her fork down slowly and held her breath as Ritathan and Aramal stared at one another for a long moment.
Forterran cleared his throat.“Master Aramal, I must ask you to excuse us.We’ve guild matters to discuss.You understand.”
“I trust him,” Ritathan blurted out.“He can stay—”
“No,” Aramal interrupted with a smile.“Every craft has its secrets.I’ll make myself useful with the horses.”He placed his napkin on the table and rose.“My thanks, Guildmaster, Mistress Obeda, for the meal and the welcome.”With that, he walked off to where the horses were being groomed and tended.
Forterran gestured and Halithe felt a tingle over her skin.An indistinct murmur of quiet voices rose around them.
“You trust this man you knew as a boy.That was how many years ago?”Forterran asked pointedly.
Ritathan’s lips narrowed to a thin line as he scooped up both key and ring and stuffed them away.
“Does he know you faked your own death?”Forterran pressed.
“Hasn’t really come up in conversation.”Ritathan lifted his chin and glared at Forterran.
“How did you do that?”Halithe leaned forward, letting her eagerness override itemsher manners.“I’ve wanted to know forever.”
“Later,” Ritathan said.
“And scrying?”Halithe looked at them all.“How does that work?”
“Later,” Ritathan snapped again.
