“You should have left me, then,” Caliel snapped.
“Maybe we should have!”
“Please, don’t fight!” Tamír reached out and took Caliel’s hand. He was trembling with emotion. “You’re in no condition to go anywhere. Rest here until you’re stronger. Honor the laws of hospitality, and I’ll still call you friend.”
“Of course. I give you my oath.”
She turned to the witch, who’d been watching all this with evident interest. “And you. Will you swear by your great Mother to do no harm in my house, to any of my people?”
Mahti gripped his horn in both hands. “By the full moon of Mother Shek’met, and by the mari of Lhel, I come only to help you. I do no harm.”
“I accept your pledge. You’re under my protection. All of you are.” She looked sadly at her friends. “I won’t keep any of you here against your will, or expect you to serve me as you did Korin. As soon as you’re strong enough to ride, I’ll give you safe conduct anywhere you want to go.”
“I don’t think you’ve really changed at all, no matter what you’re calling yourself,” Lutha said, smiling. “If you’ll have me, Queen Tamír, I’ll serve you.”
“And you, Barieus?”
“Yes.” His fingers stole to the cropped hair at his temple as he added, “If you’ll have me.”
“Of course I will.”
“What about you, Cal?” Ki asked.
Caliel only shrugged and looked away.
Arkoniel came in, then stopped dead as he caught sight of Mahti.
The witch eyed him with equal interest. “Oreskiri?”
“Retha’noi?”
Mahti nodded and touched his heart, then replied at length in his own language.
The two of them conversed for several minutes. Tamír recognized the word for “child” and Lhel’s name but nothing else. Arkoniel nodded sadly at the mention of the dead woman, then continued with his questioning. He took Mahti’s hand but the witch quickly pulled away and shook an accusing finger at him.
“What’s he saying?” asked Tamír.
Arkoniel gave her a guilty nod. “My apologies. It was just something Lhel taught me, but it was rude.”
Mahti nodded, then handed Arkoniel his oo’lu horn to examine.
Satisfied, he turned back to Tamír and the others. “He claims Lhel’s spirit came to him in a vision, asking him to come and protect you. She’s been his guide and led him to your friends as they made their way here.”
“So he said. What do you think?”
“I can’t imagine a hill witch coming all this way without good reason. They’ve never been the sort to send assassins. I must warn you, though, that he can kill with his magic and has done so, but only in self-defense, or so he claims. You must either take him at his word or send him away. I’d like to keep him among the wizards for now if you have no objection?”
“Very well. I’ll come down when I’m done here.”
Arkoniel held out his hand to Mahti. “Come, my friend. You and I have much to talk about.”
“Lutha, you and Barieus are free to join the other Companions,” said Tamír when they were gone.
“Who’s left?” asked Lutha.
“Nikides—”
“Nik’s alive?” Lutha exclaimed. “Thank Sakor! I thought I’d left him to die. Who else?”
“Just Lynx and Tanil. We have some new members, though.”
“Tanil?” Caliel gasped.
“Can we see them now?” asked Barieus, brightening noticeably at the mention of Lynx.
“Of course. Ki, go fetch them, will you?”
“What about Tanil?” asked Ki.
“Him, too. I’ll explain while you’re gone.”
Ki nodded and strode out.
“What about Tanil?” Caliel demanded.
“The Plenimarans weren’t gentle with him.” She told them all of it, wishing she could spare them the details, but it would be plain enough when they saw him.
Caliel groaned and closed his eyes.
“Oh, hell,” Lutha muttered.
Ki soon returned with the other Companions. Nikides stopped just inside the doorway, staring at Lutha and Barieus.
“I—can you forgive me?” Lutha said at last, voice trembling with emotion.
Nikides burst into tears and embraced them both.
Lynx had his arm around Tanil and was speaking quietly to him. The moment the squire saw Caliel, however, he pulled away and ran to him.
“I’ve lost Korin!” he whispered, tears welling in his eyes as he knelt by the bed. “I don’t know what to do, Cal. I can’t find him!”
Caliel reached for his hand and touched the red, raised scars on his wrist. “You didn’t lose him. We lost you. Korin’s been very sad, thinking you were dead.”
“Really?” He stood up at once, looking around the room. “Where is he?”
“He’s at Cirna.”
“I’ll go saddle our horses!”
“No, not yet.” Caliel drew him back.
“It’s all right. I’m sure Korin won’t mind,” said Lynx. “He’ll want you to look after Cal, won’t he?”
“But—Mylirin?”
“He’s dead,” Caliel told him.
“Dead?” Tanil looked at him blankly for a moment, then buried his face in his hands and began to weep softly.
“He fell honorably.” Caliel drew him down on the bed and held him. “Will you take his place as my squire until we go back to Korin?”
“I—I’m not worthy to be a Companion anymore.”
“Of course you are. And you’ll earn those braids back, as soon as we’re both well again. Won’t he, Tamír?”
“Yes. The healers did a fine job. For now, your duty is to Caliel.”
Tanil wiped at his eyes. “I’m sorry about Mylirin, but I’m glad to see you again, Caliel. Korin will be so pleased that you weren’t lost, too!”
Caliel shared a sad look with Tamír. For now, they would let Tanil cling to his hopes.
They talked for a while, catching up on both sides, then left Tanil with Caliel and went back to Nikides’ room.
“Cal isn’t going to change his mind, you know,” Lutha told her as they made their way to the Companions’ chamber. “If he hadn’t been so badly hurt, he really would have gone back.”
“He’ll do what he must. I won’t stop him.”
Tharin was there with the young squires and clasped hands happily with Lutha and Barieus. Tamír stayed with them a little while longer, then rose to go. Ki rose to follow, but she smiled and motioned for him to stay.
She paused in the doorway, gladdened beyond words to see her friends together again. Even if Caliel couldn’t join them, at least he was alive.
Chapter 41
Arkoniel took the hill witch down to his chamber by back passages and servants’ stairs. The few people they met paid the stranger little mind, accustomed to Arkoniel bringing strays of all sorts into the castle.
His room was by far the most luxurious he’d ever had, with finely carved old furnishings and bright hangings. The rest of the wizards were housed in similar chambers on this small courtyard. Tamír, in keeping with her promise, had granted them a generous allowance from her treasury and given them space in the castle to train and teach.
Wythnir was where Arkoniel had left him, curled up in the deep embrasure of a window, watching the other children play outside in the twilight. He hopped down at once as Arkoniel and Mahti entered, staring up at Mahti with apparent interest and none of his usual shyness, much to Arkoniel’s surprise.
“You’re a witch, aren’t you, just like Mistress Lhel? She told me that men could be witches, too.”
Mahti smiled down at the boy. “Yes, keesa.”
“She was very nice to us. She showed us how to find food in the forest and kept people from finding us.”
“You be oreskiri, little one? I feel magic in you.” Mahti squinted his eyes a little. “Ah, yes. Little piece Retha’noi magic here, too.”
r /> “Lhel taught the children and some of the older wizards a few small spells. I think you’ll find most of my people more welcoming toward you, thanks to her.”
“I make magic by this.” He held the oo’lu out to Wythnir, encouraging the boy to hold it. Wythnir glanced at Arkoniel for reassurance, then accepted it, stooping a little under its weight.
“This little one does not fear me,” Mahti remarked in his own language, watching Wythnir fit his small hand into the burned palm print near the oo’lu’s end. “Maybe you and he can teach others not to fear my people and to share magic with us, as Lhel did.”
“That would be a good thing for all. Tell me, where do you come from?”
“The western mountains. I would not have found my way here if not for Lhel and my visions.”
“Very strange, indeed.”
“You speak my language very well, Orëska. It’s easier for me, and I can make myself clear.”
“As you wish. Wythnir, go out and play with your friends while there’s still some daylight. I’m sure they missed you while we were gone.”
The child hesitated, then dropped his gaze and started for the door.
“He is frightened to be parted from you,” Mahti observed. “Why not let him stay? He doesn’t understand my language, does he? Even if he did, I have nothing to say that a child may not hear.”
“Wythnir, you may stay if you like.” Arkoniel seated himself by the hearth and Wythnir sat down at once by his feet, hands folded in his lap.
“He is obedient and intelligent, that child,” Mahti said approvingly. “He will be a strong oreskiri, if you can heal the fear in him. He has been hurt deeply.”
“It often happens to children born into poverty or ignorance with the power. He won’t speak of his past, though, and the wizard who had him before doesn’t seem to know much about him.”
“You are good to him. He loves you as a father.”
Arkoniel smiled. “It’s best so, between master and apprentice. He’s a very good boy.”
Mahti settled on the floor facing them, his oo’lu across his knees. “I saw you in my vision, Arkoniel. Lhel loved you in life, and loves you still. She shared much of her magic with you, so she must have trusted you, too.”
“I’d like to think so.”
“That is not against the ways of your people, to use our magic?”
“There are many who say so, but my teacher and I disagreed. Iya sought her out specifically because she could make the kind of binding spell that would protect Tamír. I remember that when we found her, she was not surprised to see us. She said she’d seen us in a vision, too.”
“Yes. Her manner of hiding the girl was a harsh one, though. Your mistress, she understood that it would require the death of the boy child?”
“Those were desperate times, and she saw no other way. Lhel was good to Tamír, watching over her without our knowledge for some time.”
“She was lonely, until you came to her bed. But you could not fill her belly.”
“If it had been possible, I’d have gladly done that for her. It’s different with your people, isn’t it?”
Mahti chuckled. “I have many children, and all of them will be witches. It’s how we keep our people strong in their mountains. We must be very strong, to still be alive after the southlanders drove us away.”
“They fear your kind, and your magic. Neither our wizards nor our priests can kill so easily as you.”
“Or heal as well,” Mahti pointed out.
“So, why are you here? To finish Lhel’s work?”
“The Mother marked me for long traveling.” He stroked a hand down the length of his oo’lu to the black, hand-shaped mark near the end. “My first vision of my traveling time was of Lhel, standing with that girl, and you. That was in the quarter of melting snows, and all this time since, I’ve been coming to find you.”
“I see. But why does your goddess want her witches to help us?”
Mahti gave him a wry smile. “For many years your people have treated my people like animals, hunting us down and chasing us away from our sacred places by the sea. I, too, have said often to the Mother, ‘Why help our oppressors?’ Her answer is this girl, and perhaps you yourself. You both honored Lhel, and were her friends. Tamír-Who-Was-A-Boy greeted me with an open hand, and made me welcome, even as I saw others in this great house make signs and spit on the floor. This queen of yours, she might make her people treat the Retha’noi better.”
“I believe she will, if she can. She has a kind heart and yearns for peace.”
“And you? You take our magic and do not call it necromancy. That boy upstairs was wrong. I know what necromancy is: an unclean magic. The Retha’noi are not an unclean people.”
“Lhel taught me that.” It still shamed him, how they’d underestimated the woman at first. “But it’s difficult for most Skalans to perceive the difference, because you also use blood and control the dead.”
“You can teach others the truth. I will help you if you will keep them from killing me first.”
“I’ll try. Now, about what you said to Tamír; can you make her demon twin go away?”
Mahti shrugged. “It wasn’t my magic that made him, and he is more than just a ghost. Demon souls like those are difficult to make magic on. Sometimes it’s better just to let them alone.”
“Tamír is haunted by another ghost, that of her mother, who took her own life. She’s very strong and very angry. She’s one who can touch the living, and seeks to hurt them.”
“Spirits like that are for women’s magic to deal with. That’s why your mistress sought out a woman witch rather than a man. We deal mostly with the living. Is the ghost in this house?”
“No. She haunts the place where she died.”
Mahti shrugged. “That is her choice. I am here for the girl.”
There was a knock at the door, and Tamír came in. “Pardon me for interrupting, Arkoniel, but Melissandra said you two were in here.”
“Please, come in,” said Arkoniel.
She sat down by Arkoniel and gazed at the witch a moment in silence. “Lhel came to you, as a ghost.”
“Yes.”
“She sent you specially to find me?”
Arkoniel translated that, and Mahti nodded.
“Why?”
Mahti glanced at Arkoniel, then shrugged. “To help you, so you not hurt Retha’noi.”
“I have no intention of hurting your people, as long as they remain peaceful toward mine.” She paused and her eyes grew sad. “Do you know how Lhel died?”
“She not tell me. But she is not angry spirit. Peaceful.”
Tamír smiled a little at that. “I’m glad.”
“We were just discussing what brought Mahti here,” said Arkoniel. “He’s from somewhere in the western mountains.”
“West? How far west?”
“Almost to the Osiat, apparently.”
She went to the witch and knelt in front of him. “I have visions, too, and dreams of the west. Can you help me with those?”
“I try. What you see?”
“Arkoniel, do you have anything to draw with?”
The wizard went to a table covered in magical paraphernalia and fished around in the mess until he found a lump of chalk. He guessed what she was thinking, but it seemed rather improbable.
Tamír cleared away some of the rushes strewn over the floor and began drawing on the stone paving beneath. “I see a place, and I know it’s on the western coast below Cirna. There’s a deep harbor guarded by two islands, like this.” She drew them. “And a very high cliff above it. That’s where I’m standing in the dream. And if I look back, I can see open country and mountains in the distance.”
“How far away mountains?” asked Mahti.
“I’m not sure. Maybe a day’s ride?”
“And this?” He pointed to the blank floor beyond the little ovals she’d drawn for islands. “This is western sea?” Mahti stared down at the map, chewing at a hangnail. ??
?I know this place.”
“You can tell, just from this?” asked Arkoniel.
“I not lie. I have been to this place. I show.”
He brought his fist up in front of his face, closed his eyes, and began to mutter to himself. Arkoniel felt the prickle of magic gathering even before the pattern of intricate black lines appeared on the witch’s hands and face. He recognized the spell.
Mahti blew into his fist and made a ring with his thumb and forefinger. A disk of light took shape, and then grew as he framed it with his other hand and drew it larger, to the size of a platter. They could hear the call of seabirds through it and hear the wash of the tide.
“Master, he knows your window spell!” Wythnir exclaimed softly.
Through the window lay a view from atop a high cliff overlooking the sea just as Tamír had described. It was dark already here in Atyion, but there the setting sun still cast a coppery trail across the waves under a cloudy sky. The ground at the top of the cliff was broken and overgrown with long grass. Huge flocks of gulls sailed against the orange sky. Their cries filled Arkoniel’s room. He half expected to smell the sea breeze and feel it against his face.
Mahti moved slightly and the view changed with dizzying swiftness, so that they were looking over the edge to a deep harbor far below.
“That’s it!” Tamír exclaimed softly, and Arkoniel had to catch her by the arm to keep her from leaning too close to the aperture. “Maybe this is why Lhel brought you to me, rather than someone else.”
“Remoni, we call it,” Mahti told her. “Mean ‘good water.’ Good to drink, out of the ground.”
“Springs?”
Arkoniel interpreted and Mahti nodded. “Many springs. Much good water.”
“Look, see how there’s enough land at the base of the cliffs for a town?” said Tamír. “A citadel on the cliffs above would be impossible to attack the way Ero was. Where is this place, Mahti? Is it near Cirna?”
“I don’t know your seer-na.”
Arkoniel cast a window spell of his own, showing him the fortress at Cirna, on its narrow strip of ground.